He glanced up at me standing in the open doorway. “You’re up early after bein’ out so late last night.”

So he’d heard me come in.

I wrapped my arms around my chest to ward off the cold. “We were busy last night. Max kept us open until two, and even then, he had to kick everyone out.”

“Are you goin’ to work at noon?”

“No,” I said, watching the birds. “What are those?”

“Pine siskin. They’re like goldfinches. They were Mary’s favorite.”

His wife had died several years ago, and it was obvious he still missed her. Just like he missed his daughter, who’d died last year, and his grandson, Seth.

The appearance of the bird feeder had surprised me, if only because Hank hadn’t struck me as the bird-watching type, but I often found him watching it. It occurred to me that Hank might like a bird-watching book so he could identify the species he didn’t recognize. If I asked him, he’d tell me not to bother, but I knew he’d accept it if it just appeared.

Was that another sign of me butting into someone else’s business?

Max’s accusation was making me question everything.

“Marco is picking me up at nine, so would you rather have me change your bandage before or after I dye my hair?”

There was no hiding what I was up to when I dyed it. The smell filled the house. I’d expected Hank to ask questions the first time, especially since the color hadn’t really changed much. The upkeep was intended to mask my roots, not change my look.

His mouth turned down into a scowl. “Neither.”

“I’m not leavin’ until we change your bandage,” I said in a no-nonsense tone. “But I’ll let you stay out here to watch the birds while I start on my hair.”

“Where are you goin’ with that deputy?”

“We’re going out to breakfast.” I’d gotten plenty of information from Greta the night before, however, and it occurred to me that our trip to Watson’s was no longer needed. I’d ask Marco what he wanted to do once he showed up.

I waited a second to see if Hank had more questions before I went back inside. I poured a cup of coffee, then carried it to the bathroom and examined the roots of my hair.

My hair was naturally blonde, but I dyed it auburn to help disguise my appearance. My hair grew fast, and I really didn’t want people asking questions, so I’d decided to dye it every few weeks. Last time I’d just touched up the roots, but the original color had begun to fade, so I’d do an all-over color this time. After I changed into a dark T-shirt that I’d bought at the Dollar General for this purpose, I mixed up the dye and applied it to my roots, then covered the rest of my hair.

I had forty-five minutes to kill, so I made Hank some protein pancakes. (Which I was sure he only liked because he didn’t know they were a healthier option.) He said he wanted to eat on the porch since the entire house stank of hair dye, so I handed him his plate and refreshed his coffee. I headed back inside and started changing the sheets—which was when I remembered Wyatt’s arrangement with Ginger. When was that supposed to start?

Since I was going to be gone all day, I chopped up some vegetables and covered them with olive oil, then seasoned some chicken breasts and put them all on a foil-lined cookie sheet. I realized that I’d made enough for Wyatt too, and my heart hurt again. If I kept living with Hank, I’d have to keep seeing Wyatt, but I didn’t want to move out. I genuinely liked living with Hank. Sure, the house was kind of a dump, and he could be a cranky old coot, but I cared about him. He made me feel needed. Necessary. Maybe it was selfish, but after feeling invisible and replaceable most of my life, I liked being indispensable.

By the time I got the food into the oven, it was past time to rinse out my hair, so I washed it off in the tub and showered. When I blow-dried my hair, it was a lot darker than before, but it didn’t look bad. Just different and with less undertones. It looked like a home dye job. I swallowed my disappointment. I didn’t have the time or money to pay someone to professionally dye it. I’d have to suck it up. It was only hair.

I was getting dressed in my room when I heard an engine outside. A quick glance at my phone read 8:46, which meant Marco was early. I still hadn’t changed Hank’s compression bandage and massaged his stump. I hurriedly stuffed my work shirt, a thermal tee, and a pair of athletic shoes into a bag, then headed out to the living room. I was hoping I still had a job.

To my surprise, Wyatt was standing next to the sofa, holding a box of donuts.

His gaze shifted to me and the longing in his eyes made my knees weak. “Carly, I said some things last night that were totally out of line.”

My gaze dropped to the box of donuts. I’d mentioned in passing a week ago that I’d kill for a box of donuts, and here he was with some.

“You were right,” he said, contrition covering his face. “It’s not fair to tell you absolutely nothing about my past when you’ve been so upfront with me about yours.” He took a step forward. “I don’t want to lose you, Carly. You’re too important to me.”

“But you also said I’d never be happy with how little you can tell me.” I glanced around. “Is Hank still outside? I need to change his compression bandage.”

“He’s watchin’ the birds. Which means we have time to discuss this now.” His gaze landed on my bag and his body went rigid. “Where are you goin’?”

“This is for work tonight.” I sighed. “If I still have a job.”

“Why wouldn’t you? Did Lula come back?”

I made a face. Me and my big mouth.

The oven timer went off, so I dropped the bag on the sofa as I walked past him into the kitchen. “I made something for Hank’s lunch and dinner. Also, there’s still some vegetable lasagna from the other night if he’d rather have something else.”

“Where are you goin’? Why do you think you might be out of a job?”

I grabbed the potholders and opened the oven door. “Max and I got into an argument.”

“Over what?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

Pushing out a breath, I said, “It’s not important. I’m probably overreacting.”

“Did he tell you that you were fired?”

“No, but we were cleaning up the bar, and he told me in no uncertain terms to drop what I was doin’ and leave.”

He set the box of donuts down on the table and rubbed his jaw. “What were you arguin’ about?”

“Max thinks I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You mean askin’ him to walk Greta to her car?”

“Among other things,” I said, setting the cookie sheet on the stove top. “I need to leave before this cools down. If you’re sticking around, can you portion it out into these containers?” I asked, pointing to four plastic bowls with lids that I’d already set out on the counter. “There’s enough for you too.”

“Yeah,” he said with a frown. “Of course. But where are you goin’ that has you in such a hurry?”

“Carly!” Hank called out from the front porch. “Your date’s here.”

Well, crap.