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“While you were here waiting for him?”

“No. I was working on my career.”

“Ah. You wanted him to wait onyou,” Vic said.

Harlow abruptly stopped. “It got complicated. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. Always yours. Listen, it’s none of my business, except when you decide you want to avoid the man at all costs and convince me to haul your butt over a fence.”

“We’ve been through worse. We’re home,” she announced.

Vic held the door and waited for Harlow to cruise inside.

They found Aunt Birdie in the kitchen, buzzing back and forth.

“Hey, Aunt Birdie.” Harlow looked around. “Where’s Eryn?”

“She had to go to work.” Her aunt wiped her hands on her apron, curiously eyeing Vic. “Hello.”

“Aunt Birdie, meet Vic.”

Her aunt beamed. “It’s nice to meet you. David mentioned Harlow’s friend was here. You’re the one who keeps my niece out of trouble.”

“Yes, or at least I try to, when she’s not insisting that I drag her over a fence.”

“Drag her over a fence?”

“It’s a long story,” Harlow said. “Where’s Dad?”

“Picking berries for dessert,” her aunt said. “Before Eryn left, your father filled us in on Robert’s call.”

“He’s ticked.”

“I bet. I would’ve loved to have seen the look on his face when he found out we helped ourselves to his bottle of champagne.”

“And took his girlfriend’s skincare products.”

David appeared in the doorway. “I thought I heard voices.” He held up a bowl of raspberries. “You made it back in time for lunch.”

“I’m not eating lunch with your guests,” Harlow said.

“You’re seriously not sticking around?” Aunt Birdie asked. “Your dad made another chicken bacon ranch casserole, and I whipped up a grilled vegetable medley.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Harlow said. “I’m going to make myself scarce.”

“You sure you don’t want to have lunch?” Vic hungrily eyed the counter filled with casserole and the vegetables along with a loaf of crusty bread.

“You can stay. I’m not.” Harlow, determined not to run into Caleb, literally or figuratively, a second time, sped straight through the living room and out the front door.

Mort started to follow her but changed his mind. The thought of missing out on a snack was too big a risk, and he plopped back down.

“You can stay, Vic,” David said.

“I appreciate the offer but my job is to keep an eye on Harlow. Although I wouldn’t mind eating leftovers,” he hinted.

“We’ll have plenty left.”

By the time Vic left the house, Harlow was long gone. He finally tracked her down, hiding out under Aunt Birdie’s awning. “This is a cool camping spot.”