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“ Y ou’re dating again?”

Laura didn’t think she could take another brother’s disapproval. She swallowed, watching Joshua’s expression as he took in the news.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I was being cautious,” Laura tried to tell him. “Can you blame me?”

Joshua squinted off in Noah’s direction. The pair had come to the stable so she could familiarize Noah with the grounds and introduce him to other members of staff. She hadn’t expected Joshua to be there at this hour. His shock was palpable.

“Laura.” Joshua’s face broke out in a grin. “This is great!”

She blinked. “It is?”

“Of course it is,” he said. “I didn’t think after the Quentin situation you’d put yourself out there again. But look at you.”

A relieved laugh tumbled out of her as Joshua gathered her in for a hug. “You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“After everything with Quentin... You were so angry.”

“He hurt you,” Joshua told her. “He broke trust with all of us. Tell me you trust this guy, and I’m here for you.”

“I do trust him,” she breathed.

“That’s fantastic,” he said, pulling away. “Do I know him from somewhere? He looks familiar.”

“You must’ve seen his band,” she blurted. “Fast Lane.”

“Maybe.”

Before he could think more of it, she asked, “Did you speak with Erica?”

His smile tapered off. “Yeah, I did. She said nothing to make me think her and CJ Knight are more than they should be. Apparently, his manager—that Doug guy—isn’t answering her calls.”

Laura thought about that. “That’s not good.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?” Joshua asked. “What we should be worried about is Dad causing trouble for us.”

“You think he will?” she asked.

Joshua nodded. “He’s going to get that money somehow. And we know he plays dirty when he has to. Roland’s been informed not to let him on the property without notifying one of us first.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Laura conceded. She watched Noah pet one filly who had come to the corral fence. The horse nickered as she nudged her muzzle against his chest. Noah’s hands roamed into her mane before teasing her forelock and stroking her ears.

“Does he make you happy, ace?” Joshua asked.

Laura watched Noah and the horse, and something somewhere softened. It was difficult to associate the gentle horseman with the bullheaded one she knew. “Yes.”

“Then I don’t care who he is,” Joshua explained. “I don’t care where he comes from or what he does for a living. You deserve to be happy.”

She looked back at her brother. “Thank you.”

She would have hugged him again, but Knox hailed him. Joshua tossed her a wink and roamed back into the stable.

Laura crossed to the fence where Noah stood. “Penny has a taste for rebels.”

“She’s got spunk,” he said, patting the horse’s flank when she sidestepped for him to do so. “I like that in a filly.”

She tried not to watch his hands. She couldn’t miss how Penny nodded her head, as if agreeing with his every touch. “Do you ride?”

“I used to take Allison horseback riding on her birthday,” he said.

“That’s sweet,” she said, trying to align him with Allison’s indulgent brother. The pieces wouldn’t have fit together so well if he wasn’t giving Penny everything she wanted, including a treat he’d nabbed from the feed room.

Noah’s head turned her way. “Do you ride?”

“I did,” she replied. “My horse, Bingley, died last fall. I bought him when I moved to Arizona. He colicked overnight and...that was it.”

“And you haven’t ridden since?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t had the heart to.”

“You know what they say,” he suggested.

“What?” she asked when he left the words hanging.

“To get back on the horse.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “Allison said the same thing.”

He stilled. “Did she?”

“Yes.”

He looked away quickly. “If I’m going to stay on-site, I need to go back to my place to pack some clothes. I also need to go by Allison’s.”

“Why?”

“To look for anything that may point to her killer,” he said. “She might have written something down. She could have received a note or a gift from someone. Since I don’t have CCTV footage to fall back on, I thought that would be the best place to start.”

“Let me come with you,” she blurted.

He lifted his shoulders. “What good would that do?”

“Her killer is linked to the resort, and apart from my brothers, no one knows the resort like I do,” she explained. “You could miss something I won’t.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know...”

“I won’t get in your way,” she pledged. “If you need to take a minute when we get there, I can walk outside.” She wrapped her hand around the spider etched on his forearm. “Please, Noah. This is something I need to do as much as you do.”

He rocked back on his heels, pulling a breath in through his teeth. “You talked Adam into letting me stay and investigate,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is,” he admitted.

“We can take my car.”

“At what time does it turn into a pumpkin?”

“Ha.” She gave his shoulder a light pinch. There was no give in the tight-roped muscle underneath his sleeve. He didn’t even flinch.

Rowing , she thought in wonder. Turning away from him and Penny, she looked across the corral. “Oh,” she said as Knox and Joshua looked away quickly. She dropped her voice. “Maybe you should kiss me.”

“Now?”

“We have an audience,” she whispered.

He stopped himself from looking around. Just barely, she sensed, as the muscles of his throat and jaw jumped warily. Somewhere far away, she thought she heard her heart pounding. Or was that his? She didn’t see his chest rise. Was he even breathing?

The chain around her navel heated again. She still held his arm. Of its own accord, her thumb stroked the spider’s spinnerets, soothing the cords of sinew underneath.

He took a half step closer.

Her pulse skittered. Every inch of her was aware of him, tuned to him.

He seemed to hesitate, uncertain. Then his head lowered, angled slowly.

He dropped a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. His hand skimmed the outside of her lace sleeve, and he lingered, head low over hers.

She wished he’d take off his sunglasses. Would the storms reach for her as they had on the sofa this morning? Would his eyes be tender? Were they capable of that?

She wondered what that would look like.

“We should go,” he said.

The words skimmed across her cheek. Then he moved away, and she drew in a stuttering breath.

“This isn’t a car.”

Laura kept her eyes on the road and her hands at ten and two. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s a car. It’s got an engine and tires—”

Noah held up a hand to stop her. “This is a Mercedes G63 AMG. Calling this bad boy a car is like calling Cinderella’s glass slipper a flip-flop.”

Her lips curved. “You should see how she handles off-roading.”

“You off-road?” When she lifted a coy shoulder, he tipped his head back to the headrest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Colton. But that is sexy .”

“I’ve opened her up a couple of times on the interstate.” She bit her bottom lip. “She goes really, really fast.”

Reaching up, he gripped the distress bar. He shifted in his seat. Was she trying to turn him on? “You’re killing me.”

She snuck a glance at him over the lowered, fur-trimmed hood of her puffer jacket, her smile climbing. She wore large sunglasses that hid her eyes, but the smile may have been the first full, genuine one he’d seen from her. “Maybe we should take this time to keep getting to know each other.”

“We’re only a few minutes from my condo,” he claimed. Their morning session of Twenty Questions had nearly been his undoing. It had exposed more than he’d intended.

His walls were already down, he reminded himself. He may not have completely come to terms with Allison’s death. But he was an open wound, one Laura’s questions had gone poking at without mercy.

“One quick question, then.”

He tried not to squirm. “Fine. One question.” Damn it, he could handle one question .

She took a minute to consider. Then she asked, “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Something about you no one else knows,” she added.

He shook his head. “I don’t have any.”

“None?”

“No,” he said.

She looked pointedly at his tattoos. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Sure.” He glanced at her. “How about you? What’re your secrets?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she offered.

“This match is a draw,” he concluded. He pointed to the end of the street. “Turn left there. My condo’s on the right.”

She made the turn, then swung into the inclined drive. She leaned over the wheel to get a look at the white two-story. “This is you?”

He popped the handle and pushed the passenger door open. Dropping to the ground, he dug his keys from his pocket. “You don’t have to come in.”

Laura was already out of the vehicle. She walked around the hood, zipping the silver puffer to ward off the dropping temperature. “You don’t want me to come in?”

He’d been in her place, he thought. What did it matter if she saw the inside of his? “It won’t take but a moment.”

“I think I can handle that,” she said, on his heels as he followed the path to the front door. He’d dumped rocks into the garden beds so that only the heartiest of desert plants jutted up through them.

There were two dead bolts on the door. He unlocked them both and the knob before pushing it open. After scooping up the mail on the welcome mat, he tossed the keys on the entry table. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, eyeing the return addresses. He set aside the bills for later and tossed the junk mail into the kitchen trash on the way to the bedroom.

He took down his old duffel from the top of the closet. Then he opened and closed the dresser drawers, selecting what he would need for a few days at the resort. He tossed his toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and beard trimmer into a toiletry bag. It fit inside the duffel.

On his bedside table, he exchanged his everyday watch for his good one, flipping his wrist to fasten it. In a small ceramic dish, he saw the leather bracelet Allison had given him when he’d left for the navy to match her own.

The evil eye in the center of the braided cord stared at him, wide-eyed. It was blue—like Laura’s eyes.

He frowned as he scooped it up. Shoving it in his pocket, he knelt on the floor and opened the door on the front of the nightstand. His gun safe was built in. He spun the lock once to the left, then the right, left again. It released and he turned the handle to open the lead-lined door.

Inside, he palmed his off-duty pistol. It was smaller than his service weapon. Since his work at Mariposa was off the books, he couldn’t carry his city-issue.

He tucked the pistol in its holster before strapping it in place underneath his leather jacket. He picked the duffel up by the handle. Through the open closet door, he could see the black bag that held his suit.

Steinbeck hadn’t released Allison’s body. But that time would come. There would be a funeral.

Noah had to bury her. He drew his shoulders up tight, already hating the moment he would have to unzip that bag, don the godforsaken suit she’d helped him pick out for a fellow cop’s funeral years ago and stand over her coffin.

He pushed his fist against the closet door, closing it with a hard rap. Then he switched off the overhead light and walked out of the bedroom.

Laura stood in the center of the living room.

He followed her gaze to the large painting above the couch. Looking back at her, he raised his brow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She lifted her hand to the painting. “It’s Georgia O’Keeffe.”

“Is it?”

She squinted at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Allison bought it shortly after I moved in,” he said. “She said it was a replica. But she thought it’d look good in the space. She teased me for never putting anything on the walls. I waited a long time to own a home, and I didn’t want to put holes in the plaster. I put the damn thing up to make her happy.” And it had, he thought, remembering how she’d beamed and clapped her hands when she’d seen it on the wall for the first time. His chest ached at the memory. “What about it?” he asked, wanting to be away from it. There was nothing of his sister here. And yet there was too much.

“The painting’s called Mariposa Lilies and Indian Paintbrush, 1941 ,” Laura stated. “It...was a favorite of my mother’s.”

Noah made himself study the painting again. This time he shifted so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Mariposas were her favorite flower,” Laura breathed.

“Hence the name of the resort,” he guessed.

She nodded silently. Abruptly, she turned away from him. “I need some air.”

He veered around her quickly. If she cried...here, of all places...he didn’t know how he’d handle that. Opening the door to the back patio, he held it wide.

She didn’t thank him. Head low, she stalked out on long legs.

He gritted his teeth, wondering whether to follow or hang back. Watching, he tried to gauge how unsteady her emotions were.

She crossed the terra-cotta tiles to the railing. Clutching it with both hands, she viewed the sheer drop to the crevasse below. In the distance, the sun slanted low over white-tipped mountains. The clouds feathered overhead, wild with color. Her shoulders didn’t slope. Her posture didn’t cave. She stood tall, another exquisite fixture on the canvas he saw outside his back door.

After a while, she said in a voice that wasn’t at all brittle, “I can see why you picked the place.”

Noah tried to choose a point on the horizon just as fascinating as she was. His attention veered back to her, magnetized. “It was this,” he admitted. “And the quiet. It’s far enough outside the city, I don’t hear the traffic.”

She folded her arms on the railing and didn’t speak. It was as if she was measuring the quiet. Absorbing it.

Quiet strength , he thought. It came off her in waves. He opened himself to it, wishing he could make room in his grief for it. How had she learned to do that—move past it? Or was he supposed to move through it?

Was that why he felt like he was losing this race? He had to stop trying to go over the grief and go through it?

Somehow, that seemed harder.

He jangled the keys he’d picked up from the counter. “We should get to Allison’s.”

She waited a beat. Then she turned and crossed the tiles to him, placing one boot in front of the other. She gathered her jacket close around her, her breath clouding the air.

As she breezed past, her scent overcame him. He felt his eyes close. Even as he wondered what he was doing, he caught it, pulled it in deep and held it.

It was a classy fragrance, something no doubt with a designer price tag.

He swore it was made to chase his demons.

That was his secret. And he’d take it to his grave.

He shut the door and locked it, promising himself he’d come back to the view when Laura no longer needed him. When she was gone. When he’d found Allison’s killer, put him or her in a cell...if he didn’t kill the person first.

He’d come back here and learn, somehow, to wade through the fallout.

Allison’s one-story house was a little Spanish-style residence across town. Noah had a key to the door on the same ring as his. Silently, he worked it into the lock before pushing the door open.

The lights were out. He switched them on as the door squeaked, echoing across hard floors.

It was the opposite of his place, Laura observed. It smelled faintly of incense. The walls were bright yellow and cluttered with artwork. There were little eight-by-ten paintings, woven dream catchers, and a whole quilt draped on the wall of the dining room. The plush rugs sank under Laura’s boots. As Noah flipped on more lights, Laura caught herself clasping her elbows. There was a hammock hanging in the dining room where a table should have been.

A pair of UGGs sat by the back door.

Noah bent over a table where books were stacked. He went through them one by one.

She circled the space once before she saw the little notebook on the edge of the bar. She opened it and was confronted with Allison’s pretty, sprawling handwriting. “I might have something,” she whispered.

Noah looked up. He saw the notebook splayed across her palms and rose.

As he crossed to her, she turned so he could see what Allison had written. “It’s not really a journal. It’s mostly Zen proverbs.” She flipped a few pages and shook her head fondly. “She dotted her i ’s with hearts.”

He said nothing as he pried the notebook gently from her hands. Lowering to a stool at the bar, he journeyed through the pages, one after the other.

She turned away. His expression might be inscrutable, but she could feel the sadness coming off him.

The photo on the fridge caught her attention. It was a stunning snapshot of Allison in dancer’s pose on top of Merry Go Round Rock. Underneath, a flyer was pinned with Allison’s yoga class and guided meditation schedule for the New Year. She’d made small notes next to each time to help keep track of repeat students with their initials and Vinyāsa sequences.

Laura took down the flyer and folded it in two, wondering if Noah would find something useful on it.

The photograph behind it slipped to the floor. Laura crouched to pick it up and was shocked to recognize a young Allison next to a fresh-faced Noah.

In the photograph, Noah was clean-shaven. The wide, uninhibited smile underneath squinty green eyes and the brim of a navy dress-blue cap struck Laura dumb. His smile made him ridiculously handsome, not altogether innocent, but happy.

She stood to pin the photo back to the fridge with a Buddha magnet. A glass of water had been left on the counter. There was an empty breakfast bowl in the sink, unwashed. Alstroemerias in a vase next to the sink drooped.

She couldn’t stand to think of them being left to die. Laura picked the vase up by the base and lowered it to the bottom of the sink. She turned on the tap and filled it halfway.

Noah stood. He tucked the notebook into the back of his jeans under his jacket before wandering toward what could only be Allison’s bedroom.

Laura didn’t want to follow. But she couldn’t imagine him facing everything in there, in his sister’s most private space, on his own. She tailed him.

The bed was half-made. Dirty clothes were still in the hamper. Noah had switched on the bedside lamp and was dragging the tip of a pen through the little ring bowl on her dresser. He opened a drawer, then another.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Bracelet,” he said, riffling through a jewelry box.

“I can help,” she told him. “What does it look like?”

He shut the box, then thrust his hand deep into his pocket. He opened his fist to reveal an evil-eye pendant on braided leather strings.

“That’s Allison’s,” she realized.

“This one’s mine,” he argued. “I picked it up at the condo just now. She wore hers, always.”

Laura frowned. She couldn’t remember Allison without the bracelet either. “Wasn’t it on her when she...?”

He shook his head. “I viewed the personal items found on her person. The bracelet wasn’t among them.”

Laura looked around. “If it’s not here...”

“Then it’s lost,” Noah finished, “or her killer has it.”

“I’ll look over here,” she said, pointing to the bathroom.

They searched for another twenty minutes, combing each drawer, cabinet and closet space. The bracelet was nowhere to be found. Laura gathered the scarf she’d bought Allison for Christmas. She’d seen the warm, cozy wrap with its bright rainbow pattern and fun fringe at a local arts and crafts festival and had instantly thought of her friend.

She ran her hands over it and felt tears burn behind her eyes.

“Did you find it?” Noah asked from the door.

She lifted her gaze to his.

He froze, wary, and turned his stare elsewhere. “You need to come out of there.”

Relinquishing the scarf, she stepped to the door. He let her pass under his arm before he closed it. Once more, she hadn’t let tears fall, but she rubbed her hands over her cheeks anyway, to be sure. “I didn’t find the bracelet,” she told him. “I take it you didn’t either.”

“No dice,” he replied.

There was violence in him, she saw in his taut jaw, his electrode eyes. He barely had it restrained. She saw him as she had the first night. Only this time, the readiness and anger weren’t gunning for her.

She wasn’t sure why she did it or what compelled her. She simply thought of the way he’d kissed her at the paddock. Just that brush of his mouth at the corner of hers and the softening she felt inside herself...

Fitting her hand to the bulge of his shoulder under the jacket, she held him.

His brows came together. “What are you doing, Colton?” he asked, hoarse.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to lift herself all the way to her tiptoes to stand chin to chin with him.

Just enough , she thought, touching the hard line of his jaw. She brushed her thumb over the center of his chin. The hair there was thick and soft. Up close, he didn’t smell nearly as dangerous as he looked. He smelled like worn leather and clean sweat.

She leaned in. Even as he tensed, she closed her eyes and touched her mouth to the corner of his.

She felt his hands gather in the material of her jacket over her ribs, but he didn’t wrest her away. Nor did his body soften, even as she pulled away, lowering to her heels.

His eyes searched hers, scrambling from one to the other and back in escalating questions. “What was that for?” he asked.

She considered what was inside her—what he was fighting. “You’re not alone.”

His brows bunched closer. The skin between them wrinkled in confusion.

She licked her lips, tasting him there. “I have something to tell you.”

“What?” he asked, the line of his mouth forbidding.

“Adam’s setting up a fund in Allison’s name,” she informed him. “It’s to help pay for funeral costs.”

He shook his head automatically. “I don’t need your money.”

“Noah, please. We just want to help. Let us. You must be overwhelmed by all this—”

“I’m fine.” He moved away.

“She told me once that for the longest time you were the only person she had in this life,” she blurted. “It’s the same for you, isn’t it? She was the only person you had. And now she’s gone and a big part of you is lost. Even if you don’t want anyone to see it.”

“I think we’re done here,” he said.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. She might as well bang her head against the wall.

In the living room, he’d switched off all the lights. As he went to the front door to leave, she caught sight of the alstroemerias. The petals were so delicate, she could see the light from the window through them.

She’d take them home. She’d care for them, as Allison would have. Then she’d return the pretty crystal vase to Noah when they wilted.

As he locked up, she cradled the vase against her chest and frowned at the stiff line of his back. “What was Allison’s favorite flower?”

“How should I know?” he grumbled, checking the handle to make sure it was locked. Shoving his keys in his pocket, he stalked back to her Mercedes.

“You can’t expect me to believe that you never bought your sister flowers,” she retorted.

It wasn’t until she’d fit the base of the vase in the cup holder between the driver and passenger seats that he spoke again.

“Orchids.”

She fastened her seat belt and paused, then started the car. “What?”

“Allison liked orchids,” he said again, his expression flat as he stared out the windshield. “Not that I know why. They’re fussy. She was the opposite of fussy. I got her these blue and purple ones once. She cried when she had to throw them out.”

Laura was happy she’d taken the flowers from Allison’s. She couldn’t think about them falling to the countertop one petal at a time. Methodically, she shifted the Mercedes into Reverse. “Let me know when you decide the funeral should be.”

“Why?” he asked.

She set her jaw, watching the backup camera and turning the wheel as the Mercedes reversed onto the street. She could be stubborn, too. “If you won’t accept my family’s help with the service, you can expect several dozen orchids to grace the proceedings.”

Noah thought about it. Then he bit off a laugh. “Before this is all over,” he contemplated as she pointed the vehicle toward Mariposa, “you’re going to drive me crazy.”

She mashed the accelerator to the floor and watched the needle on the speedometer climb. “The feeling’s mutual.”