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“To not to.”

“Go out back with your sister. Careful not to drip on the floor as you go.”

The boy walks away, leaving Sam standing in the doorway.

“Sorry about that.” He offers me a friendly smile. “I was upstairs, and he beat me to the door.”

“It’s all right. He said his dad wasn’t home, though.”

“Oh, I’m not his dad. I’m his uncle. I watch my nephew and niece a few times a week while my sister’s at work.” He presses his tattooed forearm against the doorframe and smiles.

“That’s nice of you.”

He shrugs good-naturedly. “Summer break can be tricky, and she didn’t want to put them in daycare. My work is flexible, so I was able to move around my schedule to help out.”

“What do you do?”

Sam looks startled by the question, but then he smiles. “Computer stuff. Coding. Things like that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say lamely, because I’m not technical in the slightest, and I have no idea how else to respond.

He nods to the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Oh, yes,” I say, suddenly remembering the bouquet and offering it to him, relieved that he seems pleased with the pink roses and pale lime hydrangeas. Right now, my perennial bushes are keeping my business afloat. The spring planting season really was a nasty time to get sick.

“These are great.” He gives me another dimpled smile, the picture of rugged, boyish charm. “Thanks, Piper.”

“You’re welcome. See you next week.”

Curious who the flowers are for, but not nosy enough to ask, I wave as I leave the porch.

My thoughts turn to my limited stock once I’m in my truck. I’ve reached a point in my business where I almost can’t handle everything on my own, at least not everything I want to do. I wish I had the money to expand, maybe hire someone. Olivia is great in a pinch, but I can’t afford to take her on full-time, and I don’t think she’d be interested in the growing side of things anyway.

I ponder it until I reach my house, and then my thoughts are stolen by a deep burgundy car out front. Noah must have gone into the office because his SUV is missing, and I haven’t heard from Cassian today.

A sudden burst of anxiety makes me a little lightheaded. Maybe having a stalker has made me skittish.

As I pass the car to head to the back where I usually park my truck, a woman steps out of the driver’s side door.

She’s professional and polished, dressed in a silky white sleeveless blouse and short black trouser shorts. Her hair is dark, and she’s wearing sunglasses and carrying a scarlet purse that probably cost more than my truck.

I think about going in through the back and pretending I’m not here, but it’s not like I can hide when she saw me pull in.

But something about her is unsettling.

Wishing I wasn’t alone, I walk to the front to greet her.

“Hi there,” I say, pretending people drop by all the time. “Can I help you?”

“I was just at NIHA’s administration office,” she says. “They told me I would find Montgomery York here.”

The first thing that catches my attention is her use of Noah’s first name. His friends use his middle.

The second is that she parked under the shade of the cottonwood tree and seems reluctant to leave it.

The third is that she has an accent, but like Cassian’s, it’s difficult to pin down.

Everything about her is long—long legs, long arms, long hair. She looks like a French model, down to her red lips.