This had to be a sign.

Donna didn’t believe in signs, but how else could she explain the second flat tire, Gram having an episode with a capital E late in the afternoon, and now her hot water heater going kaput. Donna was a sweaty, stinky mess, and she couldn’t take a shower.

She was not dating material right now.

She should never have said yes to Jacob.

They’d been texting off and on since that night at the bar and grill.

He was surprisingly funny. He sent her memes that made her smile. He was thoughtful and asked about her current deadlines and her Gram.

She liked him more than she probably should. More than was reasonable considering they hadn’t even had a first date yet.

Worse, she was starting to trust him.

She stared at the rumpled woman in the mirror. Her hair was sticking out in multiple directions, and those dark circles under her eyes were getting ridiculous.

Even if she had hot water, a shower wasn’t going to fix this.

She picked up her cell phone from the counter but had barely unlocked the screen when it flashed an incoming call.

Jacob.

“Hey!” She tried to make her voice sound casual and upbeat when she felt anything but.

“Hey, writer-girl.”

Hearing his voice, she had to close her eyes against the emotion that rose up in her. She’d wanted to see him tonight. But not like this.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it tonight.”

There was an audible pause before his voice came back over the line. “Everything all right?”

No. No, things were not all right. Gram was slipping away, day after day. And combined with everything else that had happened, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t in a dark place. Not even for an hour.

“Gram had a bad day. And my water heater just went out.” She couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice. She could only hope he didn’t notice.

“And your tire is flat again.”

What? “How’d you know?”

He sighed softly into the phone. “I know it’s bad manners, but I was so looking forward to seeing you that I’m early. I’m outside now.”

He was? Crudoodles. “I can’t…I’m not—”

“Donna. Take a breath, honey.”

She did, but it didn’t change what she saw in the mirror or the jittery, unstable feeling running rampant inside her.

“Is your Gram okay?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes. I think so. She’s sleeping now, but I’m not sure I can leave her tonight. Even with Molly.”

“All right. How’s your grocery situation?”

“Um. Fine, I guess.” Why did he want to know about the status of her pantry?

“What if I come in and make some dinner while you take a little while to yourself? Then we can eat and visit a little. Or if you need me to leave, at least you didn’t have to cook supper for yourself.”

It was the last thing she expected.

“Why?” she whispered because her throat was clogged with sudden tears.

Gram had been declining for years. Which meant it had been years since Donna had had someone to look after her. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“I want to see you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if we go out or stay in.”

How sweet.

“Can you actually cook?”

He laughed a little. “Let me in and you can find out.”

She shouldn’t, but… “The back door is unlocked. It leads right into the kitchen.”

As long as she stayed hidden in the bathroom, he wouldn’t see how terrible she looked. And he’d said he would leave if she didn’t want to see him.

Take a little while to yourself.

The bathroom was tiny, but she contorted herself into a pretzel on the commode to paint her toenails. They were ragged and in desperate need of attention—something she hadn’t made time for in too long.

She’d planned on spending twenty minutes decompressing, but in reality it was more like an hour before the scent of garlic and roasting tomatoes filtered beneath the door. Was he making pasta? Had he guessed that she had a love affair with Italian food?

She stood up, balancing on her heels as her nails were still drying, and took another look in the mirror.

Her hair was too far gone. Running a brush through it didn’t help, so she threw it into a ponytail. She thought about putting a scarf over the top, but it wasn’t that bad.

She grimaced at herself in the mirror. She would never pass for one of the romantic heroines she wrote about, women who were confident and beautiful and wore stylish clothes.

Her jeans had a rip on one knee, and her T-shirt had a small stain on the hem.

But the yummy scents of his food had her padding down the hallway and into the kitchen anyway.

He wasn’t there.

She followed a clanging noise through the living room and then out the garage door.

And stopped short.

The overhead door had been rolled up. Gram’s old water heater had been disconnected and was now sitting out on the drive. A brand-spanking-new heater was in place, and Jacob was halfway hidden behind it, wielding a wrench as if he meant it.

“What did you do?” She couldn’t hold in the words.

He leaned out from behind the water heater to see her. “Hey.” His smile should be registered as a weapon. The sheriff’s deputy wouldn’t even need a taser to stun anyone of the female persuasion.

“How did you do this?”

He finished with the wrench and stepped out into the open. “Done.” He dropped the wrench into an open toolbox that she knew didn’t belong in Gram’s garage. “I had Hank bring out a new heater and my toolbox. I had to replace my mom’s about a year ago. It isn’t that hard.”

Not that hard. Beyond thoughtful. And he’d cooked supper to boot.

It was something her hero Will Jacobs would’ve done.