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“Morning.” She settled in and tried not to notice how good he smelled—some intoxicating combination of soap and sea air.

Annie herself bustled over, coffee pot in hand. “Well, well. Mac MacCormack dining in instead of grabbing coffee to go? Must be special company.” She winked at Kelsey while filling their mugs. “What can I get you two?”

“What’s good?” Kelsey asked, scanning the menu.

“Everything’s good,” Mac said. “But Annie’s blueberry pancakes are legendary.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mac.” Annie beamed. “Those pancakes kept this one alive through high school. He’d come in looking half-starved after morning practice.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “I was a growing boy.”

“You were a bottomless pit. Still are, I’d bet.” Annie turned to Kelsey. “How about it, honey?”

“The pancakes sound perfect, actually.”

“Make that two,” Mac added.

As Annie walked away, Kelsey noticed at least three tables pretending not to stare at them. Mrs. Peterson, she recognized from the clinic, was practically falling out of her booth to eavesdrop.

“So,” Mac said, leaning back in his seat. “Get everything done on your spring cleaning list?”

“Most.” She smiled at him. “How’s the party planning going?”

Before he could answer, a man Kelsey recognized from the hardware store approached, his nametag on his chamois shirt displaying “Joe.” “Mac! Just the man I wanted to see. Heard what you’re doing for that grandfather of yours. Sorry to hear he isn’t doing well—did I ever tell you about the time he helped me save the store?”

“No.” Mac said. It wasn’t rude though, it was more like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hear the story at the risk of inviting Joe to stay.

“I’d love to hear it,” Kelsey said for him, her tone warm. “Pull up a chair.”

Joe launched into the story of how Truman had co-signed a loan during the recession of ’08, saving the hardware store from foreclosure. Kelsey watched Mac listen, noticed how he kept his body angled toward her even as he gave Joe his attention.

Their pancakes arrived, and with it came more visitors. Sarah from the post office had a story about Truman helping her son get into college. Bill from the marina remembered when Truman had quietly paid for his wife’s cancer treatments.

“Your grandfather’s quite something,” Kelsey said when they finally had a moment alone. “I didn’t realize any of this about him.”

Mac’s expression softened. “Yeah, he is. Always had an interest making sure the island and the people stayed vibrant. This island helped him and my grandmother before he built his business, so he wanted to give back. He did what he could and never took any credit for it. He’d kill me if I told him I knew about half these stories.”

His eyes met hers over the rim of his coffee cup, and that current of awareness crackled between them again. Kelsey focused on her pancakes, trying to ignore how her skin tingled where his knee brushed hers under the table.

“These really are amazing,” she said, gesturing with her fork.

“Told you.” He was watching her with that intense look again, the one that made her forget to breathe. “We’ll have to make this a regular thing.”

She reminded herself he was leaving soon before saying, “I’d like that.”

Then, checking her watch, she sighed. “I should head in. Staff meeting at eight.” She gathered her things, warmth spreading through her chest when Mac stood as she did. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Kelsey?” His voice stopped her at the door. When she turned, he was still standing by their table, hands in his pockets. “Do you have dinner plans?”

“No.”

His answering smile stayed with her all the way to the office, along with the memory of how he’d looked in that damn quarter-zip. The whole town would be talking by lunch, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The conference room smelled like coffee and sugar from the pile of donuts sitting untouched in the center of the table. Kelsey slid into her usual seat just as a vendor was setting up a presentation, her mind still half-stuck on breakfast and Mac’s smile.

“Alright everyone,” William, the clinic’s physician announced as the vendor clicked to the first slide. “I know it’s early, but this is important.” He held up a small black device, about the size of a car key fob. “After what happened in Connecticut…”

One of the newer nurses shifted uncomfortably in her chair. They’d all heard about it—the home health nurse who never made it back to her car. Murdered by her patient.