LITMIR.BIZ

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down a chance for pizza. Just let me know when and I’ll be there. In the meantime, I really do need to ask you a few questions about tonight.”

      And just like that she was all business again, her smile giving way to lines of concentration.

      “You said Jason called you a little before five. Were you here at the center when you got the call?”

      “No, I left work early today, so I was driving home by then.”

      She raised an eyebrow at that. No doubt Ms. All-Work-and-No-Play never left early. “I had been working on the roof all day, in the rain. I was filthy and soaking wet. I thought I’d run home and shower, and then do some work on my laptop later.” He was being defensive, but darn it, he didn’t want her to think he was a slacker. He got that enough from people. Usually it didn’t bother him, but with her it rankled.

      “Okay, so when you spoke with him, what did he say?”

      Dylan repeated what he remembered of the short conversation.

      “And what was your advice to Jason?”

      “I told him to stay put and call the Fish and Wildlife hotline.”

      “Thank you for that. Not everyone would have known whom to contact. For that matter, a lot of people wouldn’t have wanted to get involved at all.”

      Dylan deflected the praise. “Jason’s a good kid. He wanted to do the right thing.”

      “I could tell. Of course, that doesn’t explain why you drove over there yourself, rather than just letting the authorities handle it.”

      He shrugged. “He asked me to come and try to find the deer. He was worried about it. I was, too, once he told me. Given how thin the FWC is spread, I wasn’t sure how long he’d have to wait for an officer to get there. And if I hadn’t come, he might have tried to go after it himself. I didn’t want him wandering around in the woods at dusk—not with poachers in the area.”

      She rolled her eyes. “And yet you had no problem doing exactly that yourself.”

      “I’m not some teenager. And it all turned out good in the end. The deer is safe, Jason’s safe and I got to have dinner with a beautiful woman.”

      * * *

      Sam adjusted the rearview mirror in her truck and took a hard look at herself. Staring back at her was the same pale skin, brown eyes and oversize mouth she’d always seen. Beautiful? He probably just meant it in some casual, meaningless way. The kind of compliment he gave to everyone.

      But it was a first for her.

      She stuck her tongue out at herself and moved the mirror back in position before starting the car. No one, other than her father, had ever called her beautiful. She’d spent her teen years hidden behind thick glasses that only amplified the bushy eyebrows she’d inherited. Before college she’d switched to contacts and set up a standing appointment for an eyebrow wax. But she never quite managed the art of makeup, or fashion, for that matter. The few dates she’d gone on had been with boys as nerdy and driven scholastically as she was.

      In comparison to them, Dylan was in a whole different league. One she couldn’t hope to play in.

      Except he’d specifically invited her to see him again, socially. Which was terrifying. Not because he was scary in and of himself—after her initial bout of nerves had worn off, he’d been surprisingly easy to be around. Maybe that was why the animals liked him so much. But he’d be bringing other people, strangers, and this time she wouldn’t have work to talk about. She’d have to make actual conversation. Small talk. With people she didn’t know.

      Why had she agreed to this?

      Oh, yeah, because she didn’t have a choice. She certainly hadn’t made any inroads on her own. Having someone like Dylan along to smooth the way was her best chance. It was pretty ironic, really. She was the one who had grown up here. She should be the one helping him get to know people, not the other way around. But maybe it was best this way. Having him along would mean she could ease past that “Don’t I know you?” stage that she kept getting stuck in. It seemed she was always on the edges of people’s memories, enough to look familiar but not enough for them to actually remember who she was. And once they were reminded that she was actually an island native they invariably felt bad for not remembering her. Not exactly the best way to start a new friendship.

      But Dylan’s plan was going to work. It had to. She couldn’t risk losing her job over it. She’d be humiliated, and her father would be so disappointed. How many times had he told her that she’d have to work extra hard to prove herself? Aside from fighting any suggestions of nepotism, she was a woman in what had traditionally been a man’s job. The old-boy network hadn’t died out yet and he’d warned her she’d have to prove herself every step of the way. And she had. No way was she going to let a little shyness keep her from doing what she’d always wanted to do. The woods and waterways of Florida were home to her, and she’d sworn to protect them. She just hadn’t realized that the hardest part of the job wouldn’t be the long hours, dangerous animals or ravenous insects. Somehow, in her rush to be the best, she’d missed the memo about the importance of community relations. At least she had someone on her side now.

      And as crazy as it was, she was kind of looking forward to having dinner with him. Not that she expected anything from him other than moral support and some social introductions. But it would be nice if they could form a kind of friendship, as unlikely as that seemed, given how different their personalities were. But they both were dedicated to the wildlife of the area—maybe that would be enough?

      More intimidating was the thought of the friends he was bringing. If this was any other kind of challenge, she’d know how to prepare, but she couldn’t exactly study up on small talk. Could she? There probably wasn’t an official guidebook, but the internet was a big place, and there might be something there that would help. Heck, if she could learn how to change her own oil from a YouTube video, anything was possible.

      The driveway of her apartment building came into view, and she parked in front of her tiny unit. Grabbing her gear, she purposely avoided looking at the wilting plant in front of her door. An impulse buy, it was now a testament to her lack of a green thumb. Half the time she forgot to feed herself; a plant didn’t stand a chance. Her cat, on the other hand, was in no danger of neglect, thanks to his in-your-face style of negotiation. She could hear him now, meowing impatiently as she unlocked and opened the door.

      The angry meows became rumbling purrs as the fat orange feline wound his round body through her legs, greeting her the same way he did every evening. Careful not to trip over him, she made her way to the kitchen to boot up her laptop and feed her hungry pet. “Don’t worry, Cheesy, I’m getting it. It’s not like you couldn’t stand to miss a meal.”

      He meowed in protest, no doubt offended at the suggestion he could stand to lose a pound or ten. She really should put him on a diet. But not tonight. She’d add feline obesity to her list of things to look up online. For now she gave him fresh water and a small can of wet food, his nightly treat.

      Cat duties finished, she slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar and pulled up a web browser. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard—was she really going to do this?

      Yes.

      Refusing to hesitate anymore, she typed “how to make a good first impression” into the search box and hit Enter.

Chapter Four

      Dylan checked the dashboard clock as he pulled his truck into one of the few vacant spots in front of Pete’s Crab Shack. He was early and would have been earlier if he hadn’t changed shirts three times before leaving the house. Since moving to Paradise, he’d happily let his wardrobe drift from business button-downs to beach casual, the laid-back dress code being one of the better perks of his job. But tonight his ingrained preference for comfort had been overridden by his desire to make a good impression, costing him both time and a good chunk of his masculine pride. The

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