“We have to keep them picked up and in their box,” Grant informed him. “Or else Mom takes them and puts them up high where we can’t reach.”
Dawson nodded solemnly. “My mom did that, too. But it’s a good idea. You’d hate for somebody to trip over one of your cars and get hurt, right?”
Hunter asked, “Do you have a dog?”
“No, I don’t.”
“But you like them, right?”
“Oh yeah. Dogs are great. But I’m away from home a lot with my work. A dog would get lonesome.”
Hunter shot Amelia an accusatory look. “We don’t have one, either. Mom says maybe we can get one when things settle down. But I don’t know when that is.”
Amelia came to her feet so quickly, she painfully caught her hipbone on the edge of the table, rattling glasses and silverware. “Boys, it’s past your bedtime. Say good-bye. Nice to meet you, Mr. Dawson.”
“Scott.”
“What?”
“Dawson Scott.”
“Oh, sorry, well, enjoy your stay on the island.”
While the boys were reluctantly telling him good-bye, she slipped the strap of her purse off the back of her chair, then shepherded her sons around tables and out of the café. Stef and Bernie followed.
Her little group had almost reached the parking lot at the rear of the building when she was hailed from behind. Dawson was jogging toward them. Amelia asked Stef to go on ahead. “Get the boys buckled in. I’ll see what he wants.”
For the first time of the summer, Stef looked a little put out by Amelia’s request, but she did as asked and shooed the boys around the corner of the building. Bernie went along, too, but not before giving Amelia a knowing grin and an exaggerated wink.
To his credit, Dawson Scott cleaned up well. He still had the scruff, but it worked for him. As did the long hair. Somehow. He’d changed into a more presentable pair of khaki shorts and a black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. And he smelled good.
But none of that made her feel any more kindly toward him. “I told you to stay away from us.”
“Your nanny invited me over to your table to meet you. If I had refused, it would have looked like obvious avoidance, wouldn’t it? To say nothing of being rude.”
She didn’t address that logic, because he was right. “What do you want?”
“An interview.”
“Have a nice life.” She started to turn away.
“Wait, that was a joke. That’s not why I came after you.”
“Well?”
“Do you always carry the pepper spray?”
“No. I have two curious children who could come across it when they’re looking for something else in my purse.”
“So where do you keep it?”
“Where it would be handy if I had an intruder.”
“It wasn’t handy when Willard Strong surprised you in your kitchen that afternoon?”
“No. But even if it had been, he had a loaded shotgun and his finger was on the trigger.”
“If you don’t keep the pepper spray with you at all times, then what good is it?”