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“The first. I feel it in my bones. You had a tough week, Son. It’s time for some silly fun.”

She couldn’t deny the tough week, but she’d handled it. And she’d handled the uneasy nights, waking at three to the sound of the clock, the music, the weeping, and waiting for the pull of the mirror to take her… somewhere.

Worse, waiting for Dobbs to strike out yet again.

“Friend of mine, you’re stressed. Maxed-out stressed. Today, we break that. I’m excited.” Cleo gave her a light punch on the shoulder. “Be excited! I haven’t seen a peep of my boat except on paper. And today? We’re going to sail the bay! All four of us.”

She’d sailed with Cleo before, Sonya reminded herself. And considered herself a more than adequate first mate. But she’d never sailed with a cat or a dog, much less both at once.

Rather than breaking her stress, the idea just piled more on.

“Trust me,” Cleo insisted as she pulled in beside Owen’s workshop and parked next to the pair of trucks already there.

“Famous words.”

But Sonya got out and, though Yoda sent her a sad look when he saw it, hooked the leash to his collar. Cleo gathered up the cat and an enormous bag.

“You know, the man’s workshop’s bigger than his house. I wonder what that says about him.”

“That he loves his work?” Sonya suggested.

“Could be that. Could be he isn’t as invested in his home, yet, as he is in his work.”

“Your workspace in your apartment in Boston took up more room than your living space.”

Cleo smiled, tossed her hair. “It did, didn’t it?” She gave Sonya a one-armed hug. “I predict you’re going to thank me after we sail.”

“I may. I sure as hell plan to thank the gods of sailors, dogs, cats, and loyal best friends upon our safe return.”

“You can do both, but Owen built it for two adults, and we’re sticking to the bay. We all have PFDs, but we won’t need them.”

Hope not, Sonya thought as they walked around the workshop to the dock where Trey stood with Owen and two more dogs.

The Sirensat trim and glossy in the water, the mermaid at its bow with her head lifted, her hair flowing. Her companions swam port and starboard.

The boat gleamed in the sun, its red sail rolled and ready to hoist. Cleo let out a squeal and shoved Pye into Sonya’s hands, dropped the bag.

She ran forward, and nearly toppled Owen off the dock when she leaped up, hooked her legs around his waist, and locked her mouth to his.

“I helped,” Trey said. Then he sent Pye and Yoda as dubious a look as Sonya’s thoughts. “Really?”

“Apparently. Wow. It really is beautiful. Owen, the carving.”

“Busy here.” He went in for another kiss, but Cleo jumped down, pushed him back. And moved closer to the boat.

“Oh, she’s just gorgeous. She’s… she’s so me!” Kneeling, she reached down to run her fingers over the carved figures.

“It’s beautiful work, Owen. Seriously beautiful work.”

“She turned out pretty good. And she’s stable, built for up to three hundred and fifty pounds, so she’ll hold both of you, no problem. Plus, she’s got the hiking strap you wanted.”

Now he looked at Pye and Yoda. “Looks like you were serious about them. That cat’s wearing a hot pink PFD.”

“Naturally. It matches mine. I got Yoda the more masculine but still stylish purple.”

She went back for the bag she’d dropped, then handed Sonya her PFD—also purple—before putting on her own. She took out two water bottles, handed them to Owen.

“Toss those to us, will you?”