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I had seen plenty of women bare before. Yet, she rendered me breathless in a way none of them ever had.

It was infuriating.

I needed to be rid of it. Of her. Of whatever hold she was trying to have on me.

Garrick clapped me on the back, dragging me from my thoughts as we made our way toward the bar. “You look like a man who’s thinking too hard. That’s never a good sign.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

He snorted. “Sure. That’s why you look like you’re ready to fight someone.” He flagged down the bartender, ordering for both of us before turning back to me with an amused smirk.

The bartender slid two drinks toward us. I took mine without a word, downing a slow sip and letting the burn settle deep in my chest.

One drink became two. Then three. Garrick talked—about the hunt, about nothing, about everything—while I let the whiskey do its work. But it wasn't working. If anything, the burn only made me think of her more.

By the time I was on my fourth glass, the tavern hummed around us—low voices, clinking glasses, the occasional burst of laughter from the card players in the corner. The kind of place where men came to forget. Every man except me. The whiskey hadn’t dulled the growing ache. If anything, it had made it worse.

“You're going to drink yourself sick,” Garrick observed from across the table, his own glass dangling lazily from his fingers. I didn't answer. Just signaled the barkeep for another.

“Shut up, Garrick.”

Before he could say more, the tavern door opened. A gust of cool evening air swept in, along with—Lily and Adeline. My entire body went rigid.

Lily's eyes swept the room, found me immediately. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then her chin lifted, that defiant gesture I'd come to recognize, and she walked straight toward our table.

“Well, well,” Garrick murmured. “This should be interesting.”

Adeline reached us first, her expression carefully neutral. “Gentlemen.”

“Ladies,” Garrick said smoothly, standing and pulling out chairs. “Join us?”

“We shouldn’t—” Adeline started.

“We'd love to,” Lily interrupted, sliding into the chair next to mine before I could object.

Immediately, the scent of pine and woodsmoke enveloped me—sharper than the tavern's stale smoke, mixed with something else. Something uniquely her. My entire body went taut. Her hair had bits of forest debris in it—small leaves, and was that a daisy petal? The hem of her skirt was damp and muddy. She'd been in the woods.

“Interesting attire for an evening stroll,” I said.

She didn't even glance at me. Just signaled the barkeep. “Whiskey. Neat.”

Garrick let out a low whistle. “A woman after my own heart. Though I have to say, Miss Whitmore, I didn't take you for a tavern type.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me, Mr. Wolfe. In my time I quite enjoy a good bar.” She accepted the glass when it arrived, took a long drink without flinching.

“Clearly.” I kept my voice even, though my eyes traced the debris in her hair, the mud on her hem. “Where have you been?”

“Out.” She took another sip. “Adeline has chaperoned me on my outing. I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

I looked at Adeline and she just shrugged.

“You don't. But when you come back looking like you've been crawling through the woods⁠—”

“Maybe I was.” She leaned closer. “Maybe I needed to get away from overbearing men who think they own everything they see.”

Heat crawled up my spine. “Careful, Lily.”

“Or what?” Her eyes glittered with challenge. “You'll interrogate me? Lock me up? Add me to your list of threats?”