The following morning, John found himself looking forward to Betsy’s visit.

A lot.

So much that he started to wonder about himself.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who was used to taking it easy, so he found the forced relaxation rather frustrating and boring, and maybe he’d be happy to see anyone known and familiar. But still…

He couldn’t remember ever being so excited to see someone else before. He kept thinking about her all morning, imagining what she would look like, what she would say, whether she would feel as strangely distant as she did yesterday, whether she would wear her hair in a ponytail.

It was honestly a little unsettling.

He ate breakfast alone and ran on the beach the way he’d done the day before. Then he showered and read on the patio. He still hadn’t finished his theology book, but instead he read one of the paperback novels Betsy had brought him.

It was a spy novel. Predictable but entertaining. Not bad at all.

He still found himself glancing at his watch every few minutes to check the time and wonder when Betsy would arrive.

She better come. He wouldn’t vouch for the state of his mood if she didn’t.

He’d made himself focus on his book and was getting into it again when he became aware of a presence beside him.

He looked up and saw Betsy.

She was smiling and shockingly pretty in a pale blue sundress. Her hair was loose today but brushed out so it was soft, and the sun burnished the light brown to gold.

He stared up at her speechlessly, both his heart and his body tightening at the unexpected sight of her standing next to him.

She lowered herself to sit sideways on the chaise next to his. “You’re reading a novel!”

He blinked a few times and tried to make his mind work. What the hell had gotten into him, that he was reacting to her this way? “You’re early.”

That wasn’t at all what he’d intended to say. In fact, it had come out rather gruff, like he wasn’t happy to see her.

Her smile faltered slightly. “Is it not a good time?”

He shook himself off and closed his book. “Sure. It’s fine. I’m just reading.”

Her eyes scanned his face closely. “I’ve got something else planned for this afternoon, so I thought I’d come see you earlier than normal, if that’s all right.”

His immediate thought was that she better not have plans with some other guy—not looking as pretty as she was. What he said was, “You’re all dressed up. Did you decide to try something new at last?”

“Kind of. I mean, obviously, I’m wearing a dress and my hair is down. But it’s not just to try it out. My mom wants me to go to this garden party this afternoon, so I thought I’d drive straight there after visiting you.”

John relaxed at hearing this. A garden party with a bunch of old people shouldn’t be any problem. “Sounds exciting.”

Betsy laughed softly. “Oh, it should be. She’s trying to fix me up with the son of one of her friends.”

John stiffened in indignation again. “What?’

“She’s trying to fix me up.” Betsy looked a little surprised by his tone. “The nephew of her friend is going to be at this party, so I’m required to meet him.”

“Just tell her you’re not interested.”

“I haven’t even met the guy yet. I don’t know if I’m interested or not.”

John glowered, liking the sound of this less and less. “Who is this loser?”

Now Betsy was frowning at him. “Why do you assume he’d be a loser?”

“His aunt is trying to set him up, isn’t she?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. My mom is trying to set me up. Am I a loser too?”

John realized he’d made a mistake. A number of them. Betsy was upset and offended. “That’s different,” he muttered.

“How exactly is it different?”

The only answer he had was that she was Betsy, and she was obviously not a loser, but that didn’t feel like something that could be said. He just sat and scowled at the thought of her meeting some guy, looking like that.

The man would fall in love with her in an instant.

Maybe she’d fall in love with him too.

Then she’d quit her job, and John would never see her again.

He couldn’t stand the thought of it.

“Why are you in such a bad mood today?” she asked after a minute.

“I’m not in a bad mood.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you?” She was peering at him again, and it made him uncomfortable. She definitely couldn’t be reading his mind at the moment. He was thinking a number of inappropriate thoughts.

“Yes. I am.”

They frowned at each other for a few moments, and then she relaxed with a little smile. “No wonder you never relax, if it makes you this grumpy. No one could stand to be around you.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

She laughed again, looking so bright and amused that he couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s almost time for lunch,” he said, telling himself to get a grip on himself and not act like a complete fool. “You want to eat with me?”

“Sure. I haven’t had anything.”

They walked to the dining room, and he was hit with a very unusual feeling of self-consciousness as they entered. It felt like everyone was staring at him, speculating about his relationship with Betsy.

It was no one’s business what his relationship with Betsy was.

He wasn’t even sure what it was himself.

He’d always considered them co-workers, but he was obviously feeling more than that.

He wasn’t even sure where the feelings had come from.

This was the problem with taking a vacation. Without work to occupy his thoughts, they drifted off in unexpected and inappropriate directions.

After they got their food from the buffet, he headed directly to his normal table for two next to the window. Betsy was looking around as she sat across from him.

“You don’t want to join the big group?” she asked.

“I haven’t really been in the mood to socialize.” When he realized he sounded grumpy and Betsy’s brows were pulling together, he added quickly, “With anyone except you.”

She gave him a little smile. “That sounds reasonable to me. You’re supposed to be resting, after all.”

He wished he weren’t in the position of being so needy and pathetic. He much preferred Betsy to think he was strong, in control.

He wasn’t sure what he could do about it, though, so he let the comment go without a response.

Betsy must have read something into his silence. “Are you still mad about it?”

“Mad about what?”

“About us kind of tricking you into coming here.”

“There was no kind of about it.”

Damn it. That was the wrong thing to say too. What was wrong with him lately? He was usually good with people. Opinionated, sure. But they usually liked him.

“I’m not mad,” he added quickly.

“You sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not. It’s okay. I understand.”

She was eyeing him closely. “We were worried about you.”

“I know.”

“It’s not an indictment, you know. It doesn’t mean you’re somehow not up to the job. It just means… we were worried.”

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I know.”

“It just means we care about you.”

He liked the sound of her saying those words. He almost wished she’d said I instead of we. “I know,” he said again, rather gruffly this time.

“And we were also worried the whole team would quit and we couldn’t find anyone else willing to work with you,” Betsy added, in a different, teasing tone.

Despite himself, John chuckled at the quick change in mood. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Betsy just arched her eyebrows in an adorably wry expression.

“Okay. Maybe I was.”

“You do seem better,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve really heard you laugh.”

He was sure that wasn’t true. He must have laughed recently. But, searching his memory, he couldn’t really remember.

Because he didn’t really know what to say, he asked, “You want me to say grace?”

Betsy nodded, and he gave quick thanks for the food before they started eating.

They’d only taken a few bites when John was distracted by a raised voice on the other side of the room.

At the table was a woman he’d met briefly as they’d been painting this morning. Marie. A middle-aged woman who was going through a divorce.

The man at the table with her must be her ex-husband. The look on their faces and the tension evident between them testified to this fact.

As he watched, the man shouted at Marie something about how he was going to make sure she came back to him. John only vaguely registered the words. What he noticed was the loud, harsh sound and the way Marie shrank into her seat, looking frightened, almost paralyzed. She had become the center of attention in the room, and that seemed to bother her as much as her ex-husband’s shouting.

John immediately rose to his feet. He wasn’t thinking—just reacting. A man didn’t get to speak to a woman that way. Not in his presence. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

He’d only taken two steps toward them, however, when another man intervened.

Zeke had appeared out of nowhere, wearing bright orange shorts and a faded brown T-shirt, and had grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

Marie’s ex-husband wasn’t a small man, so it was a notable feat of strength.

“Let go of me!” he demanded, struggling in Zeke’s grip.

Zeke didn’t reply in any way. He just pushed the other man toward the door.

“Zeke,” an authoritative female voice broke into the shocked silence of the dining room.

Cecily was standing near the doorway, looking just as polished and feminine as ever.

Zeke glanced back at his boss.

John noticed she didn’t look worried or upset about the outburst. Mostly she looked just slightly impatient.

“Use your words, please,” she added, clearly still speaking to Zeke.

Zeke scowled at the man who was struggling in his grip. “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled.

John had to smother an instinctive laugh at the way Zeke chose to “use his words.” He glanced over to Betsy, who had moved to stand beside him, and they shared a smile that was strangely warm, strangely intimate.

When he looked back over at Cecily, he could see quickly suppressed amusement on her face too, but her voice was cool as she arched her eyebrows at Zeke. “Use better words, please.”

Zeke was walking Marie’s ex-husband to the door, so his words were rather redundant as he said roughly, “Get out of here, and don’t come back.”

Marie herself was red with what looked like mortification, but she thanked Zeke and apologized to Cecily, both of whom just brushed off her taking responsibility for her ass of an ex-husband.

Gradually, the feeling in the room returned to normal, and John and Betsy went back to their table.

John was eating his sandwich and salad—enjoying the sandwich a lot more than the salad—when Betsy asked, “Have you learned anything more about Zeke?”

John paused, his fork in the air. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I asked. Have you talked to Zeke in the last couple of days? Have you learned anything more about him?”

“Why do you want to know?”

She was obviously surprised by his question. “I was just wondering. He’s an interesting man.”

“He’s not that interesting.” He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive, but he didn’t like Betsy’s obvious interest in someone as rude and anti-social as Zeke.

“Yes, he is. Why doesn’t he like to talk? And why does he dress so strange. Did you see those shorts?”

“Some people just have bad taste.”

“I guess, but still… There’s a story there, and I’m interested in it.”

“I don’t think he’s in the market for a wife,” John muttered.

Betsy’s eyes went very round. “I wasn’t wanting to date him! I was just curious.”

The tension in his chest relaxed at her obvious surprise. “I haven’t talked to him,” he replied, in a more natural tone. “What we heard from him just now seems to be the extent of his ability to converse.”

“Do you not like him for some reason?”

Honestly, the only reason John felt negative vibes toward the other man was because Betsy had wanted to know more about him. Since this was obviously irrational and inappropriate, he wasn’t going to admit to it. “I don’t know anything about him.”

She still looked confused, vaguely questioning, but fortunately she didn’t pursue the topic. “Okay.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and John’s mind returned quite frustratingly to how pretty Betsy looked across from him. Her hair kept falling in front of her shoulders, and she would push it back impatiently.

He found himself wanting to touch it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

“So why isn’t this guy at work in the afternoon?” he demanded, out of the blue.

She blinked. “What? Zeke is at work. He works here.”

John cleared his throat, realizing he’d very stupidly spoken his thoughts out loud. “Not him. This guy they’re trying to fix you up with. Why is he at a garden party on a weekday afternoon and not at work? He does have a job, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he has a job. He’s a dentist. He doesn’t have office hours on Wednesday afternoons.”

Naturally, he would be a dentist. He probably had a very successful practice. Why else would her mother be trying to fix Betsy up with him? “Of course he doesn’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t need to be snide about it. I haven’t met him yet, but evidently he’s really nice and smart. He’s a good Christian, and everyone likes him a lot.”

John already resented this nice, smart, good Christian dentist whom everyone liked a lot.

“Why didn’t you tell your mother you’re not interested in meeting him?” he asked.

Betsy’s forehead was wrinkled with a baffled frown. “Why do you assume I’m not interested in meeting him?”

Damn it. He was making a mess of this conversation too. Maybe he did need a rest. He just couldn’t pull it together. “I just mean it’s kind of awkward to be fixed up that way. You could have just told her you weren’t interested. We’ll be going back in the field next month anyway, so it’s not like there’s much future for a relationship.”

Betsy seemed to grow very still, and she didn’t answer his question.

Her silence, her stillness, frightened him more than anything else would have.

He suddenly knew she was rethinking her job.

Maybe she didn’t want to stay on the team with him.

Maybe she wanted to get married to some nice, smart dentist and have a passel of kids.

Maybe she didn’t want to work with him—to be with him—anymore.

He couldn’t stand the thought of it. It prompted a flare of panic in his mind that he couldn’t quite control.

Both of them were silent for a long time. He had no idea what Betsy was thinking, but he was struggling to gain control of the twisting in his heart, in his gut, at the thought of Betsy leaving him for a very different life.

Nothing would be the same again.

Finally, he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, so he tried to speak in a natural, casual tone. He wasn’t successful. “I thought you were happy in the job.”

“I am,” she said, her own voice breaking slightly as if her reflections had made her emotional too. “I am happy. But I have to think in… in the long-term.”

Of course she did. Anyone in her position would. Their jobs were hard and exhausting and draining and sometimes dangerous. Most people didn’t do this work forever.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get married,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as upset by this idea as he felt.

She gave a little shrug and stared at her plate. “I… I’m happy the way I am, but I don’t want to completely close down the possibility. I mean, I’d be content if it never happens, but if…” She cleared her throat. “I just want to be open to possibilities.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not husband hunting or anything,” she added.

He’d been staring out the window, but at this his eyes shot back over to her face. “I never thought you were.”

“I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Betsy. I’m sorry I sounded so… so discouraging. If you want to meet this guy, then you should.”

He didn’t mean the words, but they were the ones he needed to say. They were the right ones.

“I’m not expecting a gallant knight on a white horse,” Betsy said, with something closer to her normal smile.

“I never thought you were. That doesn’t really seem to be your thing.”

He’d just been feeling better, more himself, ready to move on to their usual comfortable interaction. But evidently he’d said the wrong thing again.

Her shoulders stiffened slightly. “Why wouldn’t it be my thing? I can be romantic.”

“I didn’t mean you couldn’t. I’m sorry. It was supposed to be a compliment. I just meant you don’t seem prone to silly daydreams.”

She was smiling again, but it didn’t reach her eyes—like something was still bothering her. “I guess I’m not anymore.”

“Did you used to be?” This was something he’d never known about her, and he wanted to know more.

“Yes. I suppose. I mean, when I was a girl, I had all the normal romantic daydreams.”

“A knight on a white horse?”

“Don’t laugh. He wasn’t really a knight in my daydreams, and the horse wasn’t white. It was a gray horse. But he did ride up on the horse and give me a big bunch of flowers.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t laugh.” She was relaxing now, and her eyes were fond and amused. “I was a little girl. It seemed the most romantic thing in the world to me back then.” She sighed deeply. “I guess we all grow up.”

John was suddenly hit with a feeling of intense injustice—on her behalf. It wasn’t right—it was simply wrong—that Betsy hadn’t had that kind of daydream romance.

He hadn’t realized she’d wanted it.

It had never even crossed his mind.

Betsy’s cheeks were delicately flushed and her eyelids lowered, and John was momentarily mesmerized by how lovely she looked.

He sure hoped the good, smart dentist didn’t get to see her looking like this.

“Anyway,” she said, in more of her normal tone. “I don’t daydream much anymore. I’m a pretty practical person, you know.”

“I know. I like that about you.”

She seemed pleased by the compliment, but the softness was gone from her eyes.

He wanted it back.

“What did you do this morning?” she asked, clearly wanting to get back to normal conversation.

“Ran. Painted. Read.”

“What did you paint today?”

He gave a little shrug. He was actually enjoying painting more than he would have expected, but it seemed like a silly thing to enjoy. Not really like him.

“Let me see it,” she demanded.

They’d both finished their lunches by now, and Betsy was standing up, clearly intent on seeing the product of his creativity this morning.

There wasn’t really any sense in arguing. With a sigh, he got up too. They picked up their dishes, dropped them off at the window to the kitchen, and then walked down the hall to the studio.

She glanced around and evidently picked out his painting immediately. She walked over to it unerringly.

“How did you know this one was mine?” he asked, feeling a little self-conscious, as if she knew his heart better than he’d realized.

“It just looks like you. I like it.” She was smiling as she stared at the painting, which was of two sets of legs hanging down from a fishing pier and two rods cast into the water.

“Thanks. It’s not that great.”

“It’s good. I like it.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, pleased and embarrassed both.

“You should go fishing this afternoon,” she said. “It’s obviously on your mind, so you should do it.”

“I’ll do it if you come with me.” He spoke the words spontaneously, just liking the idea of fishing with her.

“I can’t. I have that garden party.”

Shit. The good, smart dentist. “Right. Oh well.”

She gave him a little smile.

“You could always skip it,” he said, responding to the surprisingly strong urge to spend the whole afternoon with her. “The dentist can wait.”

For a moment, she looked tempted. He really thought she might agree.

But then her features twisted, like she’d come to some sort of internal conclusion, and she shook her head. “I better not. I promised my mom I’d be there.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t going to keep arguing. That would reveal far too much about the ways in which he was thinking about her. “Just an idea.”

“You should still fish, though. Do it for me.”

“Okay. Sure.”

He said the words mostly so she wouldn’t keep pushing for it, but because he’d said he would do it, he felt obliged to do so.

After he walked Betsy out to her car and watched her drive away, he went to find Zeke and ask about fishing rods.

Then he walked out on the pier, sat down, and threw out his line.

He didn’t catch anything, but it wasn’t a bad afternoon.

It would have been a lot better, however, if he hadn’t kept thinking about Betsy meeting that dentist.

What if she came to visit him tomorrow with her eyes full of stars and hearts for the loser? What if she’d decided this dentist was her silly knight on the gray horse?

John wouldn’t like that at all.