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“So what do you do besides rescue concussed women in parks? And wash dirty coffee cups?” I asked over my shoulder.

He considered the question for a moment, folding a dishtowel into precise thirds. “A wee bit of this and that.”

I spun around, my hands dripping with soapy water. “Evasive again? Really?” I placed the last clean mug on the draining board, balancing it precariously. “Whoareyou, Cole? There must be more to you than a half-smile and a sexy accent?”

Cole’s eyes crinkled as he smirked, catching the mug before it could topple over. “Sexy, is it? Good to know.” His voice dropped slightly. “But I ken your meanin’. Only I dinnae kenyou, lass. Do I no deserve to learn about my interrogator?”

I sighed and dried my hands. “Sure. Ask away.”

“You own this place?” He picked up another mug.

“I do. Co-owner with a friend of mine, Tom.” I watched his long fingers work the cloth over the ceramic with hypnotic precision.

“And when you’re no falling through ceilings and serving coffee? You read?” He indicated the bookshelves with a nod of his head, a dark lock of hair falling into his eyes before he shook it away.

I reached up to tuck a strand of my own hair behind my ear, abruptly aware of how dishevelled I must look. His eyesfollowed my hand. “When I have the time for it, yeah. Time seems to be in short supply though.”

“Aye, I can imagine so.” He nodded. “You draw?”

I froze. “How did you know?”

“Your name’s below the sketch on the wall back there.” He gestured toward the door with the tea towel. “Seemed too much to assume there was more than one Erin workin’ here.”

He was observant, I’d give him that much. Hopefully not so observant that he’d force me to lie to him. I busied myself with re-organising the clean cups, avoiding his gaze.

“No, no other Erins. Reading, painting, music, coffee. That about sums me up.”

His face lit up, eyebrows raised. “Music?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his sudden enthusiasm. “You’re into your music, huh?”

“Aye, ye might say that.” He leaned back on the counter, animated in a way I hadn’t yet seen him.

Well at least Jon would approve of this guy.

“Listening or playing?” I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it slightly mussed in a way that was unfairly attractive. “Both. I havnae played an instrument for many a year, but that doesnae mean I’m done doin’ so.”

“What sort of music?” I folded my arms across my chest and watched him as he thought it through.

“Ach, what a question.” He stretched an arm up to rub the back of his neck. “A wee bit o’ everythin’, mostly. Anything with a melody. Wi’ aheart.”

“Favourite song?” I pressed.

“I couldnae say. Tis different every day.”

I unfolded my arms and stepped a little closer, feigning nonchalance as I glanced up at him. He was so bloody tall. “And today?”

He met my eyes, his own gold-flecked ones intense. “‘Lover, You Should've Come Over.’”

I swallowed. I knew it. I loved it. And I couldn’t help but feel a slow warmth spreading in my lower belly at the way he looked at me as said it. Something in his expression made me feel like I was missing something important.

He raised a quick eyebrow and threw me that crooked smile again. I cleared my throat and turned back to the glasses on the counter, putting some distance between us.

“It’s a good song.” I managed eventually.

“Aye.” He paused for a moment, tapping his long fingers on the counter. “This Tom you mentioned… he’s just a friend?”