So this Audrey was enjoying the fruits of his dad’s labors without paying him. That wasn’t exactly a point in her favor.

He only half listened as his dad kept talking about Audrey’s plans for the place, all of which seemed expensive and quite possibly ill-conceived. Yes, Willow Glen got a bit of tourist traffic because of the surrounding mountains, but an out-of-the-way café seemed a risky proposition. He just hoped that a bit of carpentry help was all she’d talked his dad into. He’d hate to be put in the position of questioning his dad’s financial decisions. That would go over like firecrackers during a church sermon.

The sound of a car coming up the lane drew their attention at the same time.

“That sounds like Audrey now,” his dad said. “Come on. I think you’re going to like her.”

That remained to be seen.

When they stepped outside, the mysterious Audrey was hidden by the open trunk lid on her car. He followed his dad as he headed toward the vehicle, a nice blue Jetta not more than a couple of years old. It wasn’t what he’d expected.

“We’ve got some more company we can put to work,” his dad called to her.

“That right?” came the muffled voice from the back just before she closed the trunk.

The world seemed to slip into slow motion as each detail in front of him came into supersharp focus, none of them what he’d expected. Brady stared, at a loss for words and vaguely aware that his mouth might be hanging open. Instead of a woman more his father’s age, a tall, leggy blonde stared back at him, surprise written across her lovely face.

Looked like today was going to be full of surprises.

The buckets of paint nearly slipped from Audrey’s hands, but her brain reengaged in time for her to adjust her grip.

“Audrey York, this is my son, Brady.”

Good heavens, if Brady Witt did indeed look like his father had at the same age, the recently departed Betty had been a very lucky woman. Tall, nicely toned, natural tan, angular features. His sandy-brown hair was a touch long and a bit messy, like he didn’t have the time for a haircut or just didn’t care.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Let me take those,” Brady said as he reached for the paint cans.

“I’ve got them, thanks. But there are a couple of bags in the backseat with dinner in them.” Thankfully, she had extra.

As she turned away and started toward the mill, she exhaled slowly, trying to get her hammering pulse under control. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a good-looking man, far from it. So why did this one in particular cause her pulse rate to go supersonic?

Long days and little sleep, that’s why. Not to mention the stress of wanting to get the café up and running and lots of work standing between her and opening day. Of course, the fact that Brady Witt was drop-dead gorgeous could have something to do with the fact that her brain synapses were misfiring.

She told herself not to care how she looked in her sweaty tank top, cargo shorts and work boots, but she couldn’t help smoothing her hair once she’d placed the paint cans inside. Then she shook her head at her silliness. She didn’t have to look polished and professional anymore, and that’s the way she’d wanted it. Willow Glen was the antidote to all the disappointments in her old life.

“You can just set those over there.” She indicated the table as Brady and Nelson came in with the bags.

“Dad’s been telling me all about your plans for the place,” Brady said. “Seems like quite a job for one woman.”

“Well, your dad has been a big help.”

“So I hear.”

She glanced up at Brady as she pulled the sub sandwiches and chips from the bags. Was that suspicion in his voice?

No, it couldn’t be. He had no reason to suspect her of anything. She’d be glad when she stopped hearing and seeing accusations and suspicion everywhere she looked.

But even after they all sat down to eat, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her for some misstep, some clue that would shine a bright spotlight on everything she wanted to leave behind.

“So, what gave you the idea for this little venture?” Brady asked.

It didn’t take a top investigator to figure out that he didn’t think it would work. But that was okay. She had enough belief in the project to counter any naysayers.

“I came up here last year, did some hiking along the Willow Trail, canoed along the creek. That’s when I saw this old mill, and my imagination just started leaping with ideas.”

She didn’t much believe in fate or destiny anymore, except what you made for yourself, but something about the sight of this old mill when she’d floated by that day had spoken to her, called her name, begged her to save it. At the time, she’d taken photos of it to preserve the piece of history. Only later did actual preservation of the building occur to her as a way of guiding her life in a new direction.

“How do you plan to get people out here?”

“Advertise in tourist publications, build a spur trail from here to the Willow Trail, construct a take-in/takeout point for canoeists on the creek here, maybe even rent canoes at some point. Trust me, I thought about this a long time and didn’t jump into it lightly.”

She detected surprise in the widening of Brady’s greenish-gold eyes, and satisfaction bloomed inside her.

“Dad said you had a business plan. Looks like he was right. Well, good luck with everything.” He broke eye contact and glanced down at the crumbs of his meal.

He might mean it, but it sounded more like a throw-away comment, something you say to someone you don’t know and don’t plan on getting to know. The detachment irritated her.

“Thank you.” She stood and gathered all the sandwich wrappers, chip bags, napkins and paper plates from the table then deposited them in the trash can. “Well, I need to get to some paperwork.”

The chairs scraped the rough wooden floor behind her.

“We’ll see you bright and early in the morning,” Nelson said, as he did every afternoon when he left for the day.

“Actually, Dad, I thought we might go fishing tomorrow.”

“Fishing?” Nelson looked at his son as if the suggestion made no sense. “I’m in the middle of a job here.”

“I’m sure Ms. York can spare you for a few days,” Brady said.

“Certainly,” she said with forced brightness as she turned to face them. “Spend some time with Brady.”

“I can spend time with Brady here,” Nelson said. “I’ve got to get that window area finished then start work on the tables. And with one more set of experienced hands, the work will go faster.”

Brady shifted his stance like he wanted to argue, but he kept quiet. She’d give just about anything to peek inside his brain for two minutes.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” she said to Nelson. “You’ve been a dear so far, but—”

Nelson shook his head and waved off her objection. “No. Once I start something, I finish it. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he patted her on the shoulder and headed outside, leaving her and Brady to stare after him.

She didn’t meet Brady’s eyes, but she felt his gaze on her.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

She uttered a “good night” and watched as he disappeared out the door, too.

So he was coming back with his dad. Fantastic, an entire day, maybe days, of him watching, suspecting. Oh, yeah, this was going to be all kinds of fun.

WHEN BRADY WALKED into the house, his dad wandered out of the kitchen holding a glass of milk.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” his dad asked.

“What?”

“How you acted with Audrey. You were nearly rude.”

“I wasn’t rude.”

“You know I’ve been helping her out, and right in front of her you say you want me to go fishing instead.”