Condensation dripped from the iced tea pitcher down her arm. It was getting heavier by the minute. She boldly put the pitcher down, then dried her hands on her apron.

“I’ve always wanted to learn to kiteboard,” she said, warming to the topic. “But I don’t see a lot of girls out there doing it. I know they do, of course, but it looks like it takes a lot of upper-body strength to handle the kite.”

“Not especially. The arms are used for control of the kite, but you’re connected to the kite by a line that’s attached to a harness you wear like a belt. There’s a lot of core strength involved. A lot of girls are giving it a try. If you surf, you shouldn’t have any trouble.” He paused, then said, “I could give you a lesson . . .”

There it was. The invitation, as she’d expected. And yet, not at all what she’d expected. Going to the beach to learn how to kiteboard wouldn’t really be a date—no drinks, no candles, no awkward small talk. It was a lesson, outdoors, in the daylight. If she didn’t like him, they’d say good-bye and that would be it.

She smiled. “That’d be great. Where do you kite?”

“Around Station Twenty-Eight.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the kites out there. Okay, maybe I can—”

Her response was interrupted by someone shouting out her name.

“Caaaaaaarson Muir! Is that really you?”

She turned her head and followed the voice to the door to see a broad-shouldered, deeply tanned man with shaggy blond hair and wearing a raggedy blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. He held out his arms and stampeded her way to lift her clear off the ground.

“Damn, it really is you!” he exclaimed as he set her down, grinning from ear to ear.

Carson pushed her hair from her face, laughing, flustered by both the welcome and his staggeringly beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey, Dev!” she replied breathlessly. “Well, aren’t you a blast from the past!”

Devlin Cassell had been a summer crush when she was in her teens. He had dated Dora for a summer, but there had been one hot and heavy kissing session between them on the beach one lazy summer evening after Dora had left for college and that’s where it had ended.

“When did you get back?” he asked her, his eyes devouring her.

“A few weeks ago.”

“You staying with Mamaw?”

“No, I’m renting a villa at Wild Dunes.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Would I be working here if I was? Of course I’m at Mamaw’s.”

“Good ol’ Mamaw. There’s no one like her. How is she? What’s she up to? She still hosting those big parties?”

“No big soirées these days. But the family’s celebrating her birthday this weekend. She’s eighty years old.”

“No kidding.” Devlin shook his head as though in disbelief. “I’ll bet she doesn’t look a day over sixty.”

Carson laughed. “Mamaw always said you could charm the skin off a snake.”

He laughed at that, murmuring, “Yep, that sounds about right.”

She enjoyed the cadence of a Southern man’s chatter and realized how much she’d missed it.

“You remember Brady and Zack?” Devlin asked, stepping back and extending his arm toward his two friends, both of similar age and attire. They’d removed their baseball caps, revealing sunburned faces and salt-dried hair. She didn’t know the men but smiled, lifting her hand in a casual wave. “Come on, pretty girl, walk with me,” Devlin said, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her to the bar. “I’m so dry my throat feels like a desert.”

He smelled like he’d been drinking for hours.

“I’m working,” she told him.

“And I’m a paying customer.” Devlin reached the bar and slid onto a bar stool. “How’re you doing, Brian?” he called out. “Got a Guinness for me?”

“With your name on it,” Brian replied. Devlin was a regular and welcome in the pub.

“And one for the lady.”

The other two men called out their beer orders and slid onto nearby stools. Carson caught Brian’s eye and lifted her brows in a nonverbal request for permission to speak to her friend. Brian discreetly nodded, then turned to work the tap.

“So, Carson,” Devlin said, turning his head and searching Carson’s face. “You are still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. How long are you here for?”

Carson shrugged and sidestepped the compliment. “I don’t know. Till it’s time to leave, I suppose.”

“No man waitin’ on you? No ring on the finger?”

Carson shook her head. “God forbid,” she replied, then realized she’d offered the same answer as Blake Legare.

Devlin’s eyes gleamed. “I always thought you were one fish no one was going to catch.”

“What about you?”

Devlin screwed up his face. “Caught and set free. Divorced last year.”

Brian delivered the beers to the men and moved on, though she knew he wouldn’t miss a word.

“Yeah, it was tough,” Devlin admitted, then took a long sip. “But I got my Leigh Ann out of the deal, so I guess it was worth it.”

“You have a child, too? I’m having a hard enough time picturing you married, much less a father.”

He shook his head ruefully. “So did my wife, apparently. In all fairness, it was my fault. I screwed up.” His face fell and he picked up his glass for a long drink.

So he cheated, she figured. Too bad, but not entirely a surprise. Devlin wasn’t a playboy, but he was a perpetual boy who liked to play. When they’d been young, he’d been popular with everyone. He was the guy with the available boat, the surfboard to share, the cold beer—the guy who always knew which beach house on Capers Island would be empty for the weekend. Most of her friends from that time still lived in the area but had settled down into jobs, marriage, children. Even Devlin had given it a shot.

She’d heard that Devlin was an extremely successful real estate maven on the islands. But seeing him here at midday, obviously just back from a fishing trip with his buddies, confirmed her suspicion that as a husband and father, he clearly hadn’t been able to set aside his toys and freedom in order to step up and be responsible.