Sheila was a nice woman and all, but he didn’t ache for her at night, didn’t think about where she might be at any given time. In truth, it was as if the past eight years of his life had been an uninteresting interlude punctuated with a coma, painful PT and mediocre sex. He had no one but himself to blame.

She’d filed for divorce when he came out of the coma, but had hung around to be sure he was all right. He’d give her that much. Not six months after that she’d gotten married to someone else, and last he’d heard she was pregnant with the child she’d wanted but that he’d been too busy to give her.

He’d had a lot of time to examine his life, his mistakes. He’d looked at himself pretty unflinchingly and he’d admitted he lived half a life out of fear of expressing just exactly who he was. So he’d accepted it, and during his physical recovery he’d had the time to make plans for a future doing what he wanted to do. A future being who he was instead of who he thought he should be.

Once he’d gotten the green light to go back to work, he’d handed in his resignation and begun to figure out a business plan with some old friends of his in Seattle.

So here he was, opening the front door to his new house and ready to take on his new life.

The house was typical of the Greenlake neighborhood: big bay windows, hardwood floors, small bedrooms but large common rooms and a good-sized kitchen. The basement had been converted into a mother-in-law flat, so he would use that as his office.

The furniture and boxes had been delivered the week before, and he smiled when he noted that his mother had not only put linens on the beds but had taken the time to leave a note telling him she’d left him dinner in the freezer.

He turned in a big circle. This was his. His life, his future, loomed ahead of him, and for the first time in a very long time, he couldn’t wait to see what was next.

Erin finished stirring the soup for that day’s lunch special and turned around to check the progress of the pasta for the salad. Another two minutes should do it.

She checked the readerboard above the coffee counter and made sure it had been updated with the specials before returning to drain the pasta, cool it and toss it with the dressing and veggies. The work was a ritual; it soothed and connected her to her life when at times she felt like just floating away.

Running the café gave her tangible goals. She started and finished tasks every day. It marked time in a positive way. She needed it.

Brody, her older brother and the owner of the other half of the building—his tattoo shop—ambled in, and she turned to get him something to drink.

“Hit me with some caffeine, sister,” he said as he slid onto a high stool.

She made him the latte he preferred, very hot with extra foam. She even made a foam design in the shape of a leaf for him and popped in a curl of shaved chocolate.

He sighed happily as he drank it. “Awesome. Thanks.”

“Late night?” She grinned at him.

“You know what it’s like when Raven’s in town. We went out late, saw a show. She doesn’t have to be up and at work, so it wasn’t a thing for her to roll in at four.”

“You didn’t have to be at work until eleven! Admit it, you’re too old. I know I am.”

Absently, she made an Americano with room for a customer, followed by a mocha. Her staff consisted of herself and two part-timers, which suited Erin just fine. They handled the early coffee rush during the week, and she took the weekends. The café closed by two p.m. and she had the rest of her day free. Not a bad deal.

She liked her employees enough to consider them friends. Especially Ella. The other woman was young, vibrant and funny. She was working to try to finish a degree at the University of Washington, so she worked at the café to pay for books. Erin admired that, especially in light of some of the personal problems Ella had been going through.

“You’re thirty-four years old, Erin. That’s not exactly an old-timer.”

“But you’re thirty-seven. Tell me you can go on two hours’ sleep like you could at twenty-seven, huh?”

He laughed. “No shit. What’s for lunch today?”

“Pasta salad, three-bean soup, tuna or veggie panini sandwiches. It’s Thursday.”

“Tomorrow is clam chowder day, my favorite.” He grinned as he sipped his latte.

“You’re lucky you got the good genes from Mom, because all that cream would kill you otherwise.”

She heard the chimes over the door sound and finished her greeting to a customer at the counter before looking up.

And into the sleepy brown eyes belonging to Todd Keenan. She froze a moment at the unexpected emotions welling within her, but they wisped away. That Erin had been another person, in what had been an entire lifetime ago.

Still, she took a quick look to the left, where a large mirror hung. Not bad. Thank goodness she’d put on earrings and some makeup before she’d left the house!

She realized, as he moved toward her in what felt like slow motion, that he hadn’t recognized her yet, and a horrifying thought that he wouldn’t remember her assaulted her gut with a cramp.

His eyes slid down her body and back up again. The way his expression went half-lidded and sexy made something low tug and spark after being dead a long time.

Her ni**les beaded against the thin shirt she wore, and he stopped there for several moments of appreciation before meeting her eyes again. He hesitated a moment and then smiled.

It was then that recognition hit his gaze. “Erin?”