Maggie jolted to an upright position.
“Andrew!”
But as Maggie’s vision cleared, she recognized the heavy brogans and crumpled laborer’s trousers. Disappointment sank in. She raised her eyes as far as the creased and callused hands, and the ragged fingernails embedded with grime.
“I just got off the night shift. I was on my way home.”
“Jake.”
“I saw you here.”
“I thought you were—”
“I know who you thought I was,” Jake said in a low voice. He looked toward the street, although there was nothing there to see but the early morning daylight filtering through a morning mist. He glanced at Maggie with steely intensity.
“Maggie, what are you doing here?” He spoke in a quiet voice.
She could hear his concern—or was it judgment? It hurt to look at him, framed as he was with the harsh and un
