Page 22 of Hibiscus Heights

“We’ll see.”

When Matteo excused himself, Happi appeared at Deb’s elbow with practiced timing. “Everything okay over here? He seems charming enough, but you know how I watch out for women.”

“He’s harmless,” Deb assured her. “Good manners, interesting conversation. Nothing complicated. This visit is just business for him.”

“Not the way he’s looking at you.” Happi refilled their water glasses. “Still, he has nice manners. I always notice that. So does Didier. We think Matteo passes the test.”

Deb smiled at their attentiveness. “There are other tests, too.”

When Matteo returned, he glanced at his watch. “You have an early morning. I don’t want to keep you too late.”

He had already paid the bill, so he walked with her outside. When she approached her bicycle, his reaction was immediate.

Concern etched his face. “You cannot ride home in the dark. How far do you have to go?”

“This is Crown Island. Nothing is very far, and I’ve been riding my bike around here since I was a child. It’s quite safe, and it’s good exercise.”

Without another word, Matteo lifted her bike and deposited it in the backseat of his convertible with surprising ease.

He opened the passenger door with a slight bow. “I cannot in good conscience let you ride home alone. And I promise to leave you at your front door like a proper gentleman.”

The gesture was so unexpected and genuinely courteous that Deb slid into the passenger seat without protesting.

“I live on Hibiscus Heights. Take the first right, then follow my directions.”

The short drive passed in comfortable conversation about the island’s history and her family’s long ties to the community. True to his word, Matteo retrieved her bicycle when they reached her house and walked her to the front door.

“I won’t ask to come in.” He took her hand and feathered his lips across her knuckles in a charming gesture. “May I call you again soon?”

His tone was hopeful but not presumptuous, interesting yet transparent in his business desire. That made her reconsider her usual deflection tactics and agree.

He waited until she’d unlocked her front door. As his taillights disappeared down the street, Deb stood in her doorway wrestling with familiar doubts. Should she invest time into someone she knew had no intention of staying? This was a well-defined pattern in her romantic life. She’d had plenty of temporary connections with men whose lives inevitably pulled them elsewhere.

Maybe temporary didn’t have to be meaningless. Perhaps she was overthinking what had been a pleasant evening with an interesting man who understood the situation as well as she did.

No one would fool the other.

The house was quiet except for the flap of the doggie door. Duke sniffed her hands while she greeted him, sensing Matteo.

“Don’t worry, he’s no match for you.”

As if relieved, Duke happily licked her face.

She drew fresh water for him from the faucet. As the water ran, she watched the distant lighthouse on the far, dark cliffside of the island flashing its distinctive light characteristics, warning mariners of the rocky point.

Her internal warning system was just as well-honed and modulated.

Whether anything would come of her meeting with Matteo remained to be seen, but for the first time in months, Deb had enjoyed a man’s company without calculating exit strategies or managing expectations.

That was progress enough for one evening. Tomorrow would be another day and another challenge, according to her brother.

Lunch with the Hunts. She wondered why David had warned her.

Just then, her phone vibrated, and she glanced down. A text message from Rachel floated across the screen.

It read, So, how did it go? Will you be the next Mrs. Matteo?

Deb laughed to herself as she tapped out a reply. You know me…we might elope this weekend!

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