For the rest of the day, Theo avoids me, and he makes it obvious. If I step into a room, he steps out. If I glance in his direction, he looks away. Whatever was about to happen between us in the garage, it’s rattled him even more than it has me. He’s gone back to scowls and thunderclouds, and once again, I’m at a loss.

Before the guys finish at five o’clock, Coop gives me an update on their progress. Then they leave, Theo first. I watch from the front window as he throws himself into his Mustang and roars off down the road at top speed as if he’s competing in the Indy 500.

I’ve never had patience with mysteries. I loved math at school because of the concreteness of it, the absolute confidence you had that every single time, two plus two would equal four. There’s beauty in that kind of unchanging, provable perfection.

So the pure inconsistency of this man and situation is driving me crazy.

Which is why I decide I’ve had enough of it. Things between us from now on will be strictly business. His problems aren’t my concern, and my problems aren’t his concern. It’s not healthy for me to get caught up in whatever this is.

No matter how tempting this “whatever” is.

The next day, I ignore Theo completely. I go about my chores without glancing in his direction even once. By the time five o’clock rolls around, my shoulders are so tense from how hard I’m trying not to notice him that I’ve given myself a headache. When my cell phone rings, I answer distractedly, rubbing my forehead with my free hand.

“Hello?”

“Hey, there, Megan. It’s Craig.”

Shit. It’s Wednesday. He’s calling about the date. I haven’t spent a moment considering what my answer would be since we talked on the phone on Monday.

“Hi, Craig. How are you?”

“I’ll be better when you tell me what time I’m picking you up on Friday night.”

I have to smile at that. “You sure do cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

“I haven’t thought about anything else since we talked. Say yes.”

Now I laugh out loud, because he couldn’t be more different from Theo if he tried. It’s a relief not to have to break my brain wondering what a man is thinking. “Well, I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “Yes, you have, you’re just being a woman.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought I knew myself better than that. I guess my silly female brain has fooled me.”

I was trying to be flirtatious, but because I’m utter crap at anything requiring feminine wiles, it comes out like an accusation. He backtracks so fast, I can almost hear tires squealing on pavement.

“Sorry, I wasn’t saying you’re silly. I was trying to be cute. It obviously didn’t go over well.”

Now I have to sigh, because at this rate, this phone call is doomed to leave both our egos in ruins. “No, don’t apologize, I was trying to be cute and it didn’t go over well. I need to stop pretending I’m good at witty repartee. Inevitably, it ends with me crawling under a table to hide because I’ve made a fool of myself.”

The relief in Craig’s voice is obvious. “So I haven’t botched it.”

“Not yet,” I say warmly, which makes him laugh again.

“Oh, good. That makes me feel so much better.”

Smiling, I walk from the kitchen to the front parlor, where I look out into the yard. The sound of hammering, footsteps, and the murmur of male voices drifts down from upstairs, where Coop and the guys are working on installing a new circuit box in a utility closet. I have no idea where Theo is, but I’m not paying attention to him anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

“I visited your building the other day.” The instant it leaves my mouth, I know how it sounds. Judging by the pleasure in Craig’s response, he’s thinking the same thing.

“You drove all the way to Portland to see my burned-out building?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, mentally kicking myself. “I, um, had some shopping to do, and…I found myself in that neighborhood.”

Now Craig’s laugh is delighted. He says teasingly, “You ‘found’ yourself in an industrial park? Hmm. You must need a new battery in your GPS.”

I groan. “God, I sound like some kind of stalker. I promise it wasn’t as creepy as it sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound creepy at all to me. I think it’s sweet. In fact, I think you should just admit that you think I’m devastatingly handsome and charming so we can go on our first date.”

I was wrong. There’s no way his ego is going to be affected no matter how lame my repartee might be. You could drive a tank over this guy’s ego and it would pop right back up without a scratch.

“Our first date?” I shoot back. “You’re assuming we’ll have more than one?”

“Oh yeah,” he says, all confidence. “You’re gonna fall in love with me over dinner and insist I take you out again. By this time next year, we’ll be picking out our wedding invitations.”

My mouth falls open. Then, struck by the sheer size of his nerve, I break into laughter.

Craig pounces on my amusement like a lion on his dinner. “Or maybe you’re in love with me already!”

“You’re nuts,” I say between gasps. “Seriously nuts!”

“And you’re completely infatuated with me. It’s the hair, isn’t it? It’s my thick, glorious head of hair. Go on, admit it. I’ll wait.”

I’m laughing so hard, my sides hurt. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard, but Craig and his supersized ego are reminding me how.

“Yes, Craig. Obviously I’m infatuated with you because of your magnificent hair. No woman alive could resist.”

“Aha!” he crows, victorious. “You said magnificent!”

“I was just repeating what you said.”

“No, I said glorious. You came up with a completely different adjective that had an entire additional syllable. Case closed. You’re madly in love with me. What time should I pick you up Friday?”

“Wow. Are you always like this?”

“Funny, charming, and dazzlingly sexy? Yes. Yes, I am.”

My eye roll is so extravagant, I might’ve popped something in my brain. Still chuckling, I relent. “Okay, Craig, you’re on. Dinner on Friday. Pick me up at six. And don’t make me regret this, I haven’t been on a date in a hundred years.”

His voice drops a notch. “I promise I won’t ever make you regret anything where I’m concerned, Megan. See you at six.”

He disconnects before I can say anything else.

I shake my head in disbelief, muttering, “Well, this should be interesting.”

When I turn around, Theo is standing still in the hallway, staring at the floor.

“Oh,” I say, startled to see him standing there. “Um…did you need me for something?”

Without looking at me, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and types something into the keyboard. It comes through on my phone with a chime.

“Oh, great. Okay. Anything I need to know?”

Theo lifts his head and looks at me. Really looks at me, his eyes searching my face. Slowly, he shakes his head no.

Something in his gaze elicits a powerful urge in me to run to him and throw my arms around his shoulders. The feeling is so strong, I have to physically restrain myself from moving my feet.

I know he overheard my call with Craig. How much he heard, I’m not sure, but judging by the expression on his face, he’s feeling some kind of way about it. Some major kind of way.

I whisper, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He doesn’t acknowledge I’ve spoken. He simply stares at me for a beat, then turns abruptly and disappears down the hallway, his boots thumping loudly against the wood floor.

I blow out a breath and press my hand over my heart. That does nothing to stop its frantic fluttering.

* * *

My insomnia that night is worse than usual. Despite my decision to keep things pure business between Theo and me, my mind runs on a hamster wheel, going over and over every look, text, and email that has passed between us, furiously trying to read between the lines of all that he doesn’t say.

Considering he’s mute, that’s a lot.

At midnight, I give up and rise from bed. I go stand at the patio windows and stare out at the ocean, which is as black as the sky. Neither has any answers for the questions swirling in my head. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the cold glass.

Cass. I wish you were here. I miss you. I love you. I still love you so goddamn much.

When I open my eyes, a figure has appeared out on the beach, standing in the darkness.

My heart hammering, I jerk back a step from the window. I can barely see the person because it’s so dark, but moonlight sifts between the clouds overhead, casting a ghostly glow on him, crowning his dark head in a halo of white. Whoever it is stands unmoving, hands by his sides, legs spread apart, staring up at the house. I move back to the window and flatten my hand against the glass.

I whisper, “Theo?”

The figure takes a single step forward.

All the tiny hairs on my body stand on end. My hands tremble, and I start to panic.

There’s no way on earth he could’ve heard me speak, yet, irrationally, I’m convinced he somehow knew his name left my lips, the way you sometimes feel a tug of recognition when you pass someone you’ve never met on the street. You know you’ve never seen them before, yet something tells you they’re not a total stranger. Something in their eyes sparks a sense of déjà vu.

Like maybe you met in another life.

“You don’t believe in kismet, Megan. You don’t believe in ghosts or fate or the tarot or any of that other nonsense. You’re a rational, intelligent person. You know he didn’t feel you call his name.”

Really? Try it again and see what happens.

I mutter, “Keep pestering me, you idiotic little voice, and I’ll take a drill to my skull to shut you up.”

Sounds like something a crazy person would do. Might as well test my theory if you’re already nuts anyway.

I curse and turn away from the window. Groaning in exasperation, I start to pace the length of the room, my hands clasped together on top of my head so they don’t pick up the nearest object and throw it at the wall.

“I won’t say his name again. I won’t.”

Chicken.

“Fuck you, voice. Just fuck you. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. This is real life, not fantasyland.”

So prove it and say his name again. Prove he took a step at the exact moment you said his name due purely to chance. Let’s see how that theory tests out for you.

“I’m talking to myself!” I shout at nothing in particular. “It’s finally happened! I’ve lost my mind! Might as well go adopt a few dozen cats and start wearing my underwear over my clothes!”

Or you could just go to the window, say his name, and deal with whatever happens next.

“No.”

Maybe he was being literal when he wrote “I’ll always be here?” Maybe he’s done with wandering all through the town at night and has decided to camp out on the beach in front of the Buttercup? And by the way, wasn’t it interesting how when you called Craters and Freighters to find out why Cass’s paintings were delivered so early, they claimed their paperwork had yesterday’s delivery date on it all along? That YOU gave them that date when you signed the contract?

Are you seriously telling me you think THAT was another random coinkydink?

I grab fistfuls of my hair and make a noise like I’ve been punched in the stomach. “Coincidences don’t mean anything! They’re just coincidental!”

Go to the window and prove it.

I let loose a string of expletives that would have my mother’s hair curling. Then I stalk over to the window and glare out the glass.

He’s still standing right where he was.

“Theo,” I say flatly.

He takes another step forward.

I scream like I’ve seen a ghost and stumble back, almost falling in my haste.

Rationalize that, Megan. No amount of logic in the world can explain your connection with Theo Valentine.

“We don’t have a connection,” I whisper, hyperventilating and starting to sweat. “We’re complete strangers. He’s just a guy I hired to work on my house.”

Who’s standing outside at midnight, taking one step toward you every time you say his name. Denial isn’t a good color on you. Stop being such a coward and deal with it.

Racked with tremors, I walk slowly back to the glass. He waits, motionless, staring up at the window, his features obscured in the shadows. I open the glass door, step out onto the patio, and grip the wood railing. The night wind catches my hair and swirls it all around my face. With my heart throbbing and my legs shaking, I stare right at him, focusing all my attention on the word I form in my mind.

Theo.

He bows his head. He starts to shake it back and forth, covering his ears with his hands. Then he turns and runs off down the beach. In a few moments, he’s swallowed by darkness.

My legs like rubber, I sink to my knees on the balcony and stare down the beach at the place he disappeared until my vision is so blurred, I can no longer see.