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Gramps’s old radio played the oldies station from the kitchen, just like it did every day that the shop was open. She’d convinced Gran to turn the utilities back on so prospective buyers could have a better look at the interior.

A mellow tenor with perfect pitch sang along with music.

Sadie’s hand loosened on the water bottle as she lowered it to the counter. Slowly, she moved to the swinging door and peered through the circular window.

Asher lay on his back under the deep sink, replacing a leaky pipe that left a slimy green puddle on the tile floor. His foot tapped in time to the beat of the music.

She pushed the door open. “You should enter the talent show.”

A metal tool clattered to the floor, followed by a softthunkand an “Ow!”

Sadie winced. “Sorry.”

“What did you say?” Asher pushed himself out from under the sink, scowling as he rubbed a reddening spot on his forehead.

Folding her arms over her chest, Sadie leaned against a dusty table and forced a lightness in her tone. “You should enter the talent show. You have a really nice voice.”

The lines around Asher’s mouth deepened. “I’m not much for the spotlight. Reclusive, remember?” He reached for the wrench. “Almost done with this drain.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” She pushed away from the table and moved to the sink. She tapped her flip-flop against the side of his work boot. “I think you’re being modest. With your voice, you’re sure to win.”

Asher paused. “I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. I’d rather muck out stalls and fix leaky drains than stand in front of a microphone.” He slid out from under the sink, stood, and turned on the water. Then he shut it off and dipped below the sink. “Good, no more leaks.”

“One thing to check off the growing list.”

“Growing?”

“Um, yeah. The toilet is running in the women’s restroom.”

“It doesn’t end, does it?” Asher gripped the sink, straightened his arms, and blew out a breath. “How old is the plumbing?”

Sadie shrugged. “I don’t know. I could ask Gran. If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone else…”

He held up a hand and smiled. A real one that reached his eyes…and tripped her pulse. “No need to do that. I’m not complaining. Just making a comment.”

“If you’re sure?—”

“I am. I want to be here, to help Hetty any way I can.”

“You’re very sweet to her.”

“She makes it easy. One of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” He crouched and dropped his tools in his beat-up canvas bag.

“How long have you known her?”

“Just since I came to the island about eighteen months ago.”

“Where’d you live before that?”

He looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together. “Why all the questions?”

“All the questions? I asked two.” She studied him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She was so over men keeping secrets.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to remain cool. “You always manage to steer the conversation away from yourself. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Asher’s mouth tightened. “What’s next on your list?”