“Yeah,” Joe said, although his gaze didn’t leave Kylie’s. “I’m getting that.”

Suddenly there was an odd and unfamiliar beat of tension in the air, one Kylie wasn’t equipped to translate. Because her parents were teens when she was born, she’d been primarily raised by her grandpa. She’d learned unusual skills for a little girl, like how to operate a planer and joiner without losing any fingers, and how to place bets at the horse races. She’d also grown up into a quiet introvert, an old soul. She didn’t open up easily and as a result, not once in her entire life had two guys been interested in her at the same time. In fact, for long stretches of time, there’d been zero guys interested.

So to have that bone-melting kiss with Joe still messing with her head and now Gib suddenly showing interest after . . . well, years, she felt like a panicked teenager. A sweaty, panicked teenager. She jabbed a finger toward the back. “I’ve, um . . . gotta get to work,” she said and bailed like she was twelve years old instead of twenty-eight.

Chapter 2

#IfYouBuildItHeWillCome

Out of sight of both Joe and Gib, Kylie leaned back against the workshop door and put her hands to her hot face. Good going. Way to be cool.

“What’s wrong?” asked Morgan, a new hire and a part-time apprentice to Gib. After a few missteps with the law, Morgan had recently turned her life around, and though she had no woodworking experience, she seemed eager enough to learn.

“Nothing,” Kylie muttered. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you moaned a little.”

Kylie sighed and poured herself a huge mug of coffee from a sideboard against one wall where they kept caffeine and, if they were very, very lucky, sometimes snacks. “You want to know what’s wrong? Men. Men are what’s wrong with life.”

Morgan’s laugh said she agreed as she went back to hand-sanding some teak for a project of Gib’s. Other than that, the shop was quiet. There were two other woodworkers who were employed here as well, but neither was in today, leaving the big, cavernous workshop feeling peaceful and calm.

Typically, Kylie spent long stretches of hours at a time in here. For her, it represented home and comfort in more ways than one. But even standing at her workbench in front of several ongoing projects and her tools, with Vinnie asleep clutching his ball at her feet, she was short on comfort today. Shaking it off, she started up her joiner and went to work on the mahogany slab she was making into a tabletop.

Gib stepped through the doorway, looking big and brawny from all the physical labor of his work. He had a handsome face that made women sigh and Kylie had never been immune, not even when they’d been young. He gestured for her to turn off the machine. “What was that about?” he asked.

“What was what about?”

“That vibe out there,” he said with a jerk of his chin to the front room. “Something going on between you and Joe?”

“No. No, of course not,” she said. Flustered and needing something to do with her hands, she poured herself yet another mug of coffee while Gib studied her.

Having known him since she was in middle school, she could interpret his every expression. He was male, which meant he had only a few. Happy-mode, hungry-mode, sports-mode, work-mode, and pissed-off-mode. That was it, his entire repertoire. She knew he had a lust-mode as well, although she’d never seen it aimed at her. But at the moment, his expression was new and completely unreadable to her.

“I’m barbecuing after work,” he finally said. “You should come.”

She stared at him in shock. “You want me to come over to your house for dinner?”

“Why not?”

Yeah, why not? She’d waited so long for him to ask her out, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She glanced at Morgan, who sent her a surreptitious thumbs-up.

“So?” Gib asked. “You’ll be there?”

“Sure,” she said, trying for his same casual tone. “Sounds nice, thanks.”

He nodded and moved off to his workstation, where he was making a shelving unit that looked like an actual oak tree. His creations were gorgeous and becoming more and more sought after. He was living his dream, just as Kylie’s grandpa had taught him when Gib had apprenticed under him.

Trying to do the same thing, she turned away and busied herself with her tabletop. She was making it for one of Gib’s clients, since he’d been kind enough to refer the customer to her. Hours later, she resurfaced and realized it was six o’clock and she was the last one in the shop. She vaguely recalled Gib and Morgan leaving an hour earlier and waving them off.

Alone, she went through the end-of-the-day routine, locking up, tucking Vinnie and his toys back into his carrier to lug everything up front. Her last stop on the way out the door was the shelf beneath the front counter to grab her purse, which had somehow tipped over and spilled onto the floor. Crouching low, she scooped everything back into the bag, freezing when she realized something was missing.

Her penguin. It was a three-inch-high wood carving that had been beautifully and lovingly handmade by her grandpa years ago, and was in fact the only thing she had of him. She kept it with her at all times because, silly as it felt to admit, it was her good luck charm. As long as she had the penguin, the last tie to her grandpa, everything would be okay.

But it was gone. Even just thinking it had her breath hitching as she searched the entire shop, top to bottom. Nothing. With an odd sense of panic clogging her throat, she called Gib. He hadn’t seen it. She called Morgan. She called Greg and Ramon, the other two artists who worked at the shop. No one had seen her penguin. She called Gib again. “It’s nowhere.”

“Maybe you just set it down somewhere and forgot,” he said in a rational tone.

“No. I know where I left it,” she insisted. “I had it in my purse, but now it’s gone.”

“It’ll show up tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe with that slide ruler of mine you lost last week.”

Frustration choked her. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“I am,” he insisted. “I’m just in the middle of getting things ready for the barbecue, making my world-famous kabobs. For you. So get your cute ass over here.”

Okay, now this should have made her day. He thought her ass was cute????? But she’d have to obsess over that later. Much later. “Gib, I think someone stole the penguin.”

“I’ll help you look in the morning, okay? We’ll find it. Now move it.”

“But—”

But nothing, as he’d disconnected. Kylie looked down at Vinnie. “He’s not taking me seriously.”

Vinnie, as comfortable in the shop as he was at home—or anywhere, really—just yawned.

Sighing, she carried him out the shop and through the courtyard. Here, she felt herself relax a little bit. She loved this building. The cobblestones were worn beneath her feet, as was the glorious old architecture of the structure around her: the corbeled brick and exposed iron trusses, the big windows.

It was a wet evening. Not raining exactly, but the moisture hung in the air. Night was falling, so the strings of lights wrapped around the wrought-iron benches lining the fountain were shining and sparkling with raindrops.

Kylie walked past The Canvas Shop and then the coffee shop, which was closed. Most of the other places were too, including the newest one—Pinot’s Palette, a wine and painting shop.