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“You’re actively investigating Mags and Celia’s business?”He stopped right before taking a drink. His hand and the bottle hung there. “We didn’t discuss that.”

“It was more coincidental than active. I was in the kitchen and... well, you get it.”

“Okay, look.” He sighed. “It turns out the heart attack wasn’t a huge surprise. This guy, Delilah’s husband, had a heart condition. High blood pressure and tachycardia.”

Sounded familiar but I hated chemistry and biology as much as law, so my knowledge on health stuff was limited to what I knew about Gram’s previous issue. “Which is?”

“A fast heartbeat. It’s not fatal but it has to be handled or it could lead to huge problems. His medication wasn’t working. He had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for early the next week.”

Now who was investigating? Not bad for a lawyer. “How do you know all of this?”

“I asked around.” He eyes narrowed as he watched me, suggesting he wasn’t impressed with my nonreaction. “What? I told you I would.”

“I left you fourteen hours ago.” When did he have time to look into anything?

“Does that mean something?”

“My point is we talked about the star issue last night. It’s Saturday morning. You were obviously exercising, not slithering around searching for clues.”

He stood in front of the counter, facing me. “I went for a run.”

“Why?” A legitimate question.

We stood a few feet apart. Not too close but not at a safe, non-gawking distance either. He didn’t smell as good as he usually did, but I wasn’t complaining.

“Why do I run? Is that what you’re asking?”

This conversation seemed to be stuck. I blamed his near-nakedness and my wandering thoughts about his near-nakedness. It wouldn’t be hard to strip off that tee and... damn. I had to leave this town and fast.

“I can’t understand why anyone would willingly run. If you’re being chased by a bear or a crazed killer, sure. Otherwise, I’m stumped.”

He relaxed against the counter. “I enjoy running.”

Oh, come on. “No, you don’t. No one does.”

“I think I’d know if I didn’t.”

Apparently not. “Running is like kale and quinoa. You’ve all convinced yourselves you like these things because someone told you that you should, but there’s no way any sane person would partake in any of those choices absent undue pressure or the threat of bodily harm.”

I’d thought about running a lot over the years and felt comfortable with my assessment. No one could convince me otherwise. I ran exactly one time in my life outside of a high school gym class. Peer pressure motivated me. I worked at that awful bank and wanted to fit in.

The couch-to-5K challenge. The way my calves seized. The uncontrollable wheezing. That stabbing pain in my right side. Basically, I felt like I was going to die after running three blocks. That was the beginning and the end of my running career.

Another reason to hate that job.

“I run to clear my head,” he said.

Looked like he had all kinds of reasons for the self-torture. “Why is your head so cloudy?”

He snorted. “I wonder.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m not going to ask how or why you went back to the ledger but—”

“Celia left her laptop open.” I screwed and unscrewed the top of my water bottle. Did it again and then one more time. “The computer was mostly open. I needed more evidence to convince you, so I had no choice.”

He reached over and put his hand over mine. The move made my heart rate spike. I didn’t have tachycardia, so I blamed the unexpected touch of his fingers.