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“I will put you in the ocean and make you fish food,” I interrupt with a growl.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

“The girl,” I say. “Kayla.”

He looks at me as if he is getting bored with me being here.

“She came to you?”

“She didn’t come to me,” he says. “She came with Vero. Then she sat in my museum for two hours, while he went on about capturing her tattoos right, and she looked at everything. She didn’t ask questions or touch anything. The woman is fascinating—I can see why he likes her.”

I snap my head around to glare at him, and he laughs at the look on my face. Even with my conflicted feelings, I find myself protective of her.

“Whatever she came from, it was not great,” he adds. “You can see it in her whole demeanor. She moves with caution, maps exits in every room, and I don’t think she even knows she is doing it. For Vero to call to her, she has some demons of her own.”

I don’t respond, just start running again. He has given me a lot to think about.

“Perhaps reconsider the face cream!” Banks calls after me.

I merely shake my head, having already turned back the way I came.

When I get back to the house, there is now yarn on the porch.

I step inside to find more in the hallway, and some hanging from a framed painting on the wall. I follow the trail upstairs, where the door to our room is cracked open, and I locate the source of the yarn. On the bed, Kayla is straddling Vero’s lap, looking flushed, and Vero has his hands on her hips. He glances over her shoulder at me and smiles. “Finally, come join the party.”

I lean against the doorframe and look at the state of the room, and then at the two of them. I pull my tank top over my head and drop it on the floor.

“How did crocheting turn into this?”

“There is a simple explanation,” Vero says, and Kayla laughs.

“You have no patience,” she chides, then turns to look at me. “He lasted about seven minutes after you left, then announced he was bored and started trying to make a noose.”

“In my defense,” Vero says, “it’s just a big knot, and that was all I seemed to be doing, so I figured, when in Rome . . .”

“You tried to put it around your neck.”

“Then there is no defense,” I say.

“Then he knocked the basket over, tripped on it, and kicked it, all while trying to remove the knot from his neck. And, well, this seemed like the easiest way to get him to stop.”

“It worked,” Vero confirms with a grin.

Kayla’s eyes don’t leave mine as I cross the room and put my hand on the back of her neck, the same way I do to Vero. Her whole body relaxes, and she exhales.

“Seven minutes,” I say.

“Give or take.”

“Next time give him something he can’t tangle.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Vero insists. “Crocheting is not for me, though I could be bribed if this is how it ends.”

I move around the bed, removing my shorts. Vero watches me the entire way, his gaze drinking in my body, and I love the way that feels. He always makes me feel like I am the most important person in the room, just by the way he looks at me.

“Lift,” I tell him.

He grabs Kayla and lifts enough I can shift beneath him. I settle back against the headboard and pull Vero to my chest. Kayla fixes herself on his lap, and I reach out to push her hair back from her face, letting my fingers drag through the strands until I have a loose grip on her neck. She whimpers, and I realize this is something she really likes, just like Vero.