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“You aren’t Aurelie, are you?” he asked. Her face changed instantly. He recognized the smile that looked like it would laugh right out of the only photo Paige had hanging in her room, a photo of herself and the woman now standing before him. It was the single oddest experience of his life when she walked over to him and threw her arms around his neck. She squeezed him tight.

“So that hussy didn’t believe me,” she said, standing back again. Her hands rested on her hips, her gaze appraising him from head to toe. A slight smile played over perfectly white teeth that resembled seashells against the tan sand. “It looks like she brought me a present as well, that sly girl.”

Her wink and second glance at his biceps turned Owen’s cheeks a fiery red.

“Oh, no, I mean, uh, no. She didn’t send me.”

Aurelie’s smile faded as quickly as it had arrived.

“That scamp. I knew you were too good to be true. How do you know me, then?”

“Your picture’s up at her apartment. The only picture up actually. I’m Owen.” He reached to shake her hand but Aurelie didn’t move. Her eyebrows tightened, and a single finger tapped her arm.

“You’re Owen,” Aurelie repeated, her cadence slower than his. He nodded, gulped. What had Page said about him that made this woman so nervous she wouldn’t even shake his hand?

“Was she supposed to pick you up?” he asked, desperate to change the topic off him.

“No. A mix-up,” Aurelie said, waving her hand in the air. “Not a problem.”

“I can give you a ride to her house if you’d like,” he offered. If she didn’t take it, that was her problem. He wished Paige hadn’t painted him in a bad light, but it seemed with each passing second that Aurelie stood there, arms crossed, brow furrowed, that wasn’t the case.

“Why isn’t she with you? Did you two have a spat?” Her accent spread over him like butter on warm bread, soft and sweet. He couldn’t help but smile, even as he pictured the very real “spat” he and Paige’d had. There wasn’t a chance he was getting into that on the side of the road with a perfect stranger, though.

“Well, her dad’s in the hospital, and if she’s not there with him now, I’m sure he’s on her mind. She’s missed you a lot, I know that much.”

“Hmm.” Aurelie’s gaze fell on his truck. “You can take me, but you’ll need to handle my bag. There is no way I am hoisting it up there.” She nodded to the bed of the truck which was nearly over her head.

He laughed.

“I can handle that, ma’am.” With a tip of his cap and a swing of his arm, her bag sat in the bed of the truck next to the lumber and Owen helped Aurelie up into the cab. This close, he inhaled the scent of coconuts, the same that had wafted off Paige when he’d first met her.

It was intoxicating.

They drove in silence for a bit, Aurelie’s face plastered to the window as they left the streets of the small town for the hills and dirt roads of the farmland.

“She was right, there isn’t much here, is there?”

Owen frowned.

“No, I guess there isn’t,” he said after a pause.

Aurelie turned to look at him, her pale blue eyes the color of the sea behind her in the photo he’d seen a hundred times. “There’s enough, though. I can see that.”

At that, Owen smiled. He liked this woman, her candidness. A compliment from her would be genuine, he could sense that much.

“How is her father?” Aurelie asked.

Owen sighed. “I guess he’ll be okay. It’s just a rough time of year to be out of commission with his harvest and shoring up for winter and all that.”

“What will he do, then? I don’t imagine Paige could be much help to him, can she? She’s tiny, yes? And healing still?”

Owen chuckled. All truths from this woman.

“No, she’s got her own recovery, that’s for sure. Plus, it doesn’t look like she’ll be here for long anyway. Brad, her brother, and I will help where we can. We’re gonna start with the barn this afternoon, actually.” Owen jerked his head back, gesturing to the bed of his truck filled with enough carpentry stuff to build half a shed.

“You’re a good man, Owen. I can see it.” Owen’s cheeks flushed again and he nodded a silent thanks.

“Owen, thank you for the ride. I don’t trust those giant buses that weave in and out of small streets. But can I trouble you for a rather large favor?”