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Andy patted her shoulder, but he was privately thinking,Me too.

Andy’s cell rang as he was climbing into his Audi sportback.

It gave him a funny feeling to see that anonymous gray icon with Quinn’s contact info. QUINN R. Right there in black-and-white. All those years he’d believed Quinn was dead, and now Quinn was ringing him on his cell phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He answered as cautiously as if he were indeed talking to the Great Beyond, “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

That voice. Quinn’s voice. Definitely deeper, but still, Andy would have recognized it anywhere, anytime. It was justsostrange to be talking to Quinn again.

“I’m just heading back to the village.”

“Backto the village? Where did you go?”

Andy’s nerves tightened at the note of surprise in Quinn’s voice. Marcus had also not reacted well to any alteration in Andy’s schedule—or his understanding (frequently incorrect) of Andy’s schedule. “I made some deliveries for Uncle C.” As much as he appreciated Quinn’s offer of help, Andy wasn’t about to start reporting to him like a junior petty offi—

“Oh, right,” Quinn said easily. “How’d it go?” And just like that, Andy’s defensiveness melted away like the snow from his windshield.

“I think I know what Uncle C.’s assailant was looking for.”

“What?”

“Snow globes.”

Quinn repeated blankly, “Snow…globes?”

“Or rather something—I don’t know what—hidden in a snow globe.”

A moment of silence while Quinn perhaps digested this information? “Interesting. You want to fill me in over dinner?”

“Dinner?” A quick glance at the clock in the Audi’s dashboard informed him it was just after four thirty.

“It’s a local custom.” Quinn’s tone was solemn. “It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but you get used to it. Eventually, you even look forward to it.”

Andy huffed a laugh. He wasn’t sure dinner with Quinn was such a great idea, but it would make a nice change from reheated zucchini casserole. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was starving. He’d had nothing to eat that day but Christmas cookies, coffee, and a shot of whisky.

“Sure. Where?”

“Francesca’s?”

“Francesca’s?No. Definitely not. This isn’t a date.”

Francesca’s restaurant and bar was Safehaven’s fanciest eatery. With its luxurious decor, head-turning views of the harbor, and world-class mixologists, it was one of the most popular date-night locations in the entire county. Andy had been there once, when Uncle C. had treated him to a twenty-first birthday dinner.

Quinn gave another of those funny half-laughs. “Uh, clearly not. Okay. You pick. Where should we meet?”

Clearly not?What did that mean? Quinn, surely, with everything going on right now—not to mention everything that had gone before—hadn’t seriously been asking Andy out? That would be ridiculous. And even more ridiculous was the unsettled feeling the very idea gave Andy.

It wasn’t possible that he could still have feelings for Quinn.

Not that Quinn wasn’t attractive. He was. Disturbingly attractive, frankly. To someone interested in such things.

Which Andy was not.

And, after Marcus, might never be again.

“How about the Jack Tar pub?”