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And maybe—just maybe—this thing I keep calling “irritation” isn’t that at all.

Mia spins on her heel without a word, sloshing back toward the house, shoulders stiff and righteous. The door swings open and slams behind her with a satisfying finality.

I stand there, soaked in guilt and maybe something else, watching the ripples in the water I spilled and wondering what I’ve just done.

And why I kind of want to do it again.

It’s when I hear a small crash inside the house that I spring into action, dropping the hose and racing toward the back door. When I get into the house, Mia is almost at the front door, her steps quick and sure. She’s running.

“Mia,” I call out, “You should change out of those wet clothes. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

She doesn’t stop and doesn’t turn around. “I’m fine.”

I quicken my steps, reaching the front door before she does and blocking her path. Her eyes instinctively narrow.

“Hey.” I hold out my hand to show I don’t mean trouble because she seems to think I’m a truckload of it. “You really should change out of your shirt. We don’t want you catching a cold.”

She folds her arms across her chest, and it takes all my willpower not to glance down at her chest. She hasn’t noticed, but the wet shirt is clinging to her skin, and the transparent fabric is doing nothing to ease my tension. Where’s Brody when you need him? A few minutes ago, he was everywhere; now, he seems to have disappeared.

“I’ll give you a spare shirt,” I say when Mia attempts to leave again.

“No, thanks. I’m good. Why would I want to wear your things?”

“You sure?” I let my eyes trail down to her chest, deliberately and slowly. Mia follows my gaze and gasps when she sees the outline of her body peering through the fabric.

“The offer is still on.” I bite back a smile at her obvious embarrassment. “I have lots of shirts you can borrow.”

A deep blush blossoms on her cheek, and she takes a deep breath. “Thank you. I’ll take the shirt.”

“Great.”

Mia turns away from the door, and I follow, trying to act like this whole situation is no big deal. But it is. Mia’s been getting under my skin more than anyone in a long time, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Still, I keep my face neutral as she heads straight toward the bathroom, her wet clothes clinging to her, a quiet storm of irritation around her. I can’t let my mind dwell on her right now. I need to stay focused. I’m in Bardstown for business.

While she goes quietly into the bathroom, I walk over to my room, rummaging through my drawers until I find a shirt. I hold it in my hands for a moment, staring at it as though it’s some foreign object. It’s just a shirt, right? But it’s not just a shirt. It’s a piece of me being offered to her, and I don’t know what to make of that.

I walk back to the bathroom and stop in front of the door. My heart pounds a little faster as I knock on the door, passing the shirt through without looking up when she opens it slightly.

“Here.” The words come out rougher than I intend.

“Thanks.” She slams the door shut again.

Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I drift into the kitchen, only to find Brody rummaging around the drawers, a frown on his face. I feel an instant burst of irritation.

“Where have you been?” I snap before I even think about it.

Brody looks up, mildly surprised. “I’ve been setting up my room, Jack. Is there a problem?”

I quickly catch another retort before it bursts out of my mouth. None of my emotions are his fault. I only have myself to blame.

Brody finally finds the items he’ll need to make his coffee and powers on the machine, then slants me a look. “Seems like you and Mia are getting along,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m on edge again, and I don’t like it.

A hint of a smile plays on Brody’s lips before he turns away completely. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

I glare at his back but choose to stay quiet before it becomes really obvious that I’m losing it. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No.”