Nothing shocked him more than the sheriff’s comment. The woman owned the house. Dalton didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried. He’d accused his new neighbor of being an arsonist. Not too neighborly.

He stood at the threshold of the door with two cups of steaming coffee. “It looks like I owe you an apology.” He eyed the mess in the fireplace. “I’m told a lesson in lighting a fire is in order.”

She wrapped her arms around her body and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. If their positions were reversed, he would have slammed the door and walked away, leaving her on the porch, but she didn’t. She looked longingly at the steaming coffee mugs and glanced at the mess in her fireplace.

In a small voice, she said, “I could use the coffee and a fire.”

He gave her a half smile. “I’m sorry.” He stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his foot. “A house on the other side of the lake burned to the ground last week. It’s under investigation for arson. When I saw the smoke …” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“Nice to know you pay attention.” She reached for a cup and held it cradled in her hands. Raising it to her mouth, she didn’t take a drink. She breathed in the steam to warm her.

His chest tightened when he saw her fingertips were blue. “Lord, let’s get you warm.” He led her to the couch and tore open the plastic covering. He yanked and tugged until it came loose. “I’m assuming you wanted that gone.”

She climbed into the far corner and leaned against the soft leather of the armrest. “You assume a lot of things, but yes, it needed to go.”

He hated that her first impression of him would be that of an unreasonable man. He’d never been so quick to judge, but he’d learned from example. He hated how going to prison had changed him. He wanted to see the best in people, but he was a realist. Most people weren’t that good.

Her body shook from the chill, but it was no wonder. She was as thin as a piece of dental floss. If not for that blue hair, she’d be easy to miss. Turn her sideways, and she’d all but disappear.

Funny how only minutes before he wanted to throttle her, and now his instinct to care and protect kicked in. He wanted to feed her, and fast, but first things were first. She needed to get warm. He unzipped his jacket and wrapped it around her. “This should keep you warm until I get the fire going.”

She set the coffee down and snugged his jacket beneath her chin. “The fireplace won’t work. Something’s wrong with it. I had a nice blaze going until the whole room filled with smoke.” She looked toward the muddy mess on her floor. “It’s a miracle I didn’t burn the place down.”

Dalton laughed. “Good thing you didn’t burn it down because then you would have proven me right. You would have been an arsonist.”

“A homeless arsonist.”

“I’ll be right back.” He dashed out the door and returned minutes later with a broom, a metal dustpan and an old metal trash bin. He made quick work of cleaning up the sodden mess that had been her fire. The wilted flowers lay on top of the debris.

“You have something against flowers?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “No. I love them. I have something against burning my place down. The vase was filled with water, the flowers were a sacrifice.”

Minutes later, he’d stacked new wood, shoved in bits of kindling and paper, and pointed to a metal handle inside the opening.

“The flue was closed. You need to make sure it’s open, and the air is circulating, otherwise, you get a back draft and a lot of smoke.”

He loved the way her cheeks blushed. “I’ve heard of a flue.” She leaned forward and picked up the coffee. One sip had her face twisting.

“Too strong?”

“Elixir of the gods. Super hot, but I appreciate it.”

“You could cool it down with cream, sweeten it with sugar.” He looked past her to the kitchen. “Do you have any?”

She shook her head and took another sip. This time, she smiled and her expression turned soft.

“I have little in the way of provisions.” She tucked her legs close to her body. She nearly disappeared under his jacket.

“You got furniture.” He found the matches sitting on the coffee table and pulled a single stick out. “How did you sneak that past me?”

She shrugged. “My ass—, I mean, my friend took care of it.”

“I’ve got a few friends I’d call asses too. Nice that he or she could get things moved in here for you.”

There was that smile again. “It’s a she, and her name is Deanna.”

Something about that pleased him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been a he. On closer inspection, Samantha was a pretty woman. Pretty women didn’t stay single for long.

He struck the match and started the kindling on fire. He watched as the heated air moved upward and out through the now open flue. One look at her wood supply, and he knew she’d be out soon. “This isn’t going to last long. I’ll bring over enough wood to get through a day or so. You’ll want to call Zachariah Thomas. He can hook you up with wood and moonshine. Both of which will get you warm.”

She laughed. “I’ll stick with the wood. I can pay you for what you give me.”

“Unnecessary, but call Zachariah soon. The days may be warming up, but the nights are always cold.”

“Is that the same old man that lives up in the mountains?” She leaned forward to put her cup on the table. “He’s still making shine?”

“You’ve heard of him?” Dalton took another good look at her. He didn’t recognize her. He’d never known a person with blue hair, but even if he mentally ignored her colored head, she didn’t seem familiar. “How is it you came to Aspen Cove?”

She pulled her upper lip between her teeth. She looked at him as if testing to see how trustworthy he was. As if she would divulge a big secret. When her lip popped free, she said, “I lived here seventeen years ago.”

“No way. I would know you.”

“You know everyone who’s lived here?” She giggled. It was a sound that vibrated through his rigid walls and settled inside his chest.

Except for the time he spent in prison, he could say yes without a second thought. He knew everyone. If she were here seventeen years ago, he would have been seventeen. He should know her.

Now that the fire was burning well, he placed the metal screen in front and came to join her on the couch. He sat at the opposite end and stared in her direction.

He expected something to come to him, some glimmer of recognition, but nothing did. “You don’t look familiar, but then again, I’m pretty sure you didn’t have blue hair back then. How old were you seventeen years ago?” An hour ago he wouldn’t have given her over sixteen, but now he could see she held herself like an adult. She was well-spoken and reserved. When she smiled, faint creases showed in the corners of her eyes. A sign of maturity, his mom told him when he asked her what crow’s feet were.

“I was invisible. I was twelve, and I rode the school bus to Copper Creek with you.”

He envisioned the forty-five minute bus ride and pressed his memory for familiar faces. He’d hated that bus, but it was the most economical way to get to school. Economics were important when being raised by a single parent. Money was tight.

His dad had recently passed away. Although the town was supportive, not one person would miss the bastard. The logging company said it was a freak accident, but Dalton was certain someone got tired of his father’s bullying and felled him and a tree at the same time. Thankfully, the small life insurance policy buried the asshole and left a little extra to get Maisey’s Diner open.

He searched his memory again and came up with a little girl with brown hair and eyes the color of a starless sky. “I remember you. You sat in the second row on the right and stared toward the back of the bus every day.”

“That was me,” she said, sounding pleased that he’d remembered. “I stared at you and wondered how long it would take for me to become one of the cool kids.”

That was a lifetime ago. “I was never one of the cool kids.”

She peeled his jacket from her body and rose to stand in front of the fire. “You were to me.”

“So that makes you what?” He calculated the years. “Wow, you’re like twenty-nine now.” Time had been kind to her.

She nodded slowly. “Yep. That’s a far cry from the sixteen you gave me earlier.” She turned toward the fire and rubbed her hands close to the flames.

Her sweatshirt lifted to her hips when she bent over. Dalton laughed inside. Had he seen her ass the first time, he would have never confused her with a boy. She was definitely thin, but every muscle of her lean body was solid. He was certain he could bounce a quarter off that ass. It was round and firm and would fill his palms nicely.

He shook that thought from his mind. Generally, women were nothing but trouble for him. He had too much going on in his life. He didn’t need other distractions. He’d be neighborly, but he wasn’t getting involved with Samantha White.

“What are your plans?” The longer she was here, the harder it would be for him to keep his distance. He couldn’t take his eyes off her backside and how those jeans hugged every tiny curve she had.

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t have a solid plan. Eventually, I’ll have to go back to work, but I’m here now.”

“Cannon said a broker made the purchase of this property. He thought it was an investor waiting to scoop up a piece of land here and there until they had enough to put a resort on the lake.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Lord no, that would be a shame. It was purchased under my company’s name, but it’s for personal use.”

Her company? That meant the little quiet girl from Aspen Cove did all right for herself. Dalton loved it when he heard stories of rags to riches. Not that buying a house in Aspen Cove made her rich by any means, but if she could afford a vacation home, she was doing better than most. “What do you do?”

She turned toward him. Her lower lip sank between her teeth. When it popped free, she said, “I’m in public relations. A small company called Ignite.”

One look at the fire had him laughing. “I sure hope you do a better job igniting your clients’ businesses than you do a fire.”

She moved directly in front of the fire and backed herself against the screen. “We do okay. What about you?”

Dalton expected her to erupt into flames at any minute. He wasn’t sure how much to tell her. It wasn’t like she’d be a long-term resident. He believed in honesty. He had integrity. He wouldn’t lie to her, but he wouldn’t provide more truth than she asked for or needed.

“I studied culinary arts.” That was true. He’d attended Escoffier in Denver before he went to prison.

“So, you’re a chef. Lucky me—you cook food, and I eat it!” She came back to the couch and sat in the corner.

Now that he knew she wasn’t an arsonist, he liked her. She was easy to be around. He’d accosted her in her own home, and here he sat on her couch, drinking coffee and talking about careers.

“I’ll make you something before you leave to go back to where it is you live full-time.”

“That sounds great. Who knows, I could live here full-time if the food is good.”

He let his eyes travel over her body. “I have a feeling you don’t eat much.” He rose from the couch. “Is there anything else you need? Any other crimes I can accuse you of? Any more insults I can toss your way before I leave?”

She rolled to her feet and walked to the front door to open it. Shivering when the cold wind whipped inside, she said, “I think I’ve been sufficiently humbled for the day. Thank you.”

“Perfect. Glad I could help.” He stepped outside and rubbed his arms. The T-shirt was poor protection from the biting cold.

“Oh my God, I almost stole your coat. I can’t imagine the sheriff wanting to make another trip for a petty crime.” She rushed to the couch where his coat lay and picked it up. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. “You smell nice.”

He didn’t think he’d ever been told that before. Some said he was handsome. He was strong. He was an ass. Good in bed. A great hugger. Compassionate. He never had a woman tell him he smelled nice. He liked it.

“Thanks.” He pulled on his jacket. “I’ll set some wood by the door.”

“I appreciate that.” She slowly closed it behind him.

He walked away smiling and turned his head to smell his collar. It didn’t smell like anything to him. Scratch that. It smelled like her. Sweet and fruity and all woman. Something told him his status quo had changed.