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“ T he first two units have it, but not this one or the one next door,” she added.

Stone drew back enough to look her in the eye. Her wide and slightly wild gaze met his. He saw fear and panic there, but not surprise. He’d get to the bottom of that, but first, he needed to take care of the “gas inspector.”

“Stay,” he said again, aware that the barked order wasn’t the best version of himself. Still, her safety came first. He’d deal with the fallout later.

She hesitated. He cocked his head and gave her a hard look. A beat passed before she rolled her eyes and nodded.

He didn’t fight the tiny smile playing on his lips as he took two steps down, then turned toward the foyer. The situation wasn’t a laughing matter, but she was damn cute when annoyed.

Jotting off another text to Viper, he hit Send as he opened the door to find a nondescript man standing on the other side. Brown hair, brown eyes, white, about five foot ten. He wore black pants and a pale yellow polo shirt (no logo) and carried a clipboard.

“Yeah,” Stone said, sweeping his gaze over the “inspector” one more time and spotting the outline of an ankle holster under his left pant leg.

“I’m Kevin Lawrence with the gas company. I’d like to speak to the occupant of this unit,” he said.

“She’s unavailable. What can I do for you?”

The man—whose name definitely wasn’t Kevin —narrowed his eyes. When the scrutiny didn’t have the impact Kevin hoped, he tried a different tactic. “We’ve had two reports over the past two days of a possible leak and are inspecting all units. I need to check the stove and heating units. I’ll also want to check the main valve located in the garage.”

Stone cocked his head. “Doesn’t the fire department usually respond when there’s a report of a gas leak?”

Kevin smiled. “Both reports said the smell was intermittent. The fire department asked us to come.” He started to step in, but Stone blocked his way.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I left it in my truck on the road, but I doubt the occupant”—he glanced down at his clipboard—“Ms. Juliana Morganstern, would be pleased if we didn’t inspect her unit. Gas leaks can be fatal, as I’m sure you know.”

Stone inclined his head. “Lots of things are fatal, Kevin. This unit doesn’t have gas.” He paused, letting that information settle before continuing. “You should check your records better,” he said before stepping back and shutting the door in the man’s face.

After ensuring both the deadbolt and lock on the handle were engaged, he shot a final text to Viper as he strode back to the stairwell. Signaling for Juliana to keep quiet, he lifted her into his arms—this time without the yelp of surprise—and carried her up the stairs and into the room at the front of the house. It appeared to be a guest room, and he set her down on the corner of a queen bed before moving to the bay window and pulling out his phone again.

Peering through a gap in the curtain, he watched Kevin walk away, occasionally casting glances back toward Juliana’s condo.

“He’s walking out now,” he said when the call connected with Viper.

“Black pants, yellow shirt, aggro walk?” Viper asked.

“Yep, that’s the guy,” Stone confirmed.

“I got him. I’ll let you know. Keep an eye on Juls,” he said. The only other member of Falcon’s Rest who’d met Juliana was Mantis, but Stone’s interest in her wasn’t a secret. Somewhere in the past few months, they’d all taken to calling her Juls, as if she were a longtime friend. He didn’t mind.

“Plan on it,” he said before hanging up.

Kevin crossed the street at the end of the drive and climbed into a white truck. A few seconds later, he pulled away. Shortly after that, Viper’s SUV passed by.

Knowing they had someone watching their back, Simon eased away from the window, then turned to find Juliana staring at him. Perched on the bed, she had her heel resting on the floor, the damp paper towel still encasing her toe.

“Let’s finish cleaning that up, and then you can tell me what’s going on. Or what you know about it,” he said, moving toward her. Her eyes tracked him, but she didn’t respond.

Kneeling before her, he gently removed the damp towel. The bleeding had stopped, and it needed ointment and a good Band-Aid.

“You believe me,” she all but whispered. He looked up, then frowned. “I haven’t even told you anything or said anything, but that guy scared me, and you…you didn’t question me.”

He rocked back on his haunches. “He scared you, that was enough for me.”

“You don’t think I’m being dramatic? Or making things up?”

He kept his expression as neutral as possible, but her words gave him a glimpse into the type of people she’d had in her life, and he didn’t like it. “I think you’re fully capable of being dramatic and making things up. But if you did, it would be stories about gnomes, or shape-shifters, or pioneer women, or time travel. It wouldn’t be something that scared you. I saw the fear in your eyes, Juliana. It was genuine.”

She studied him, her expression telling him she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

“I’ll go grab the first aid kit and we’ll get this wrapped up. Then can you tell me what that was all about?” he suggested. The best way to show her that he meant what he said was through actions, not words.

She hesitated, then nodded. He rose and jogged down the stairs, everything he’d learned about Juliana in the past few minutes percolating in his head. Their coffee dates had been filled mostly with talk of their lives now . Of their jobs, their friends, what they liked about Mystery Lake, their favorite places—and things—to eat. They hadn’t had a chance to work backward yet. Backward to the days before they were on their own—before she went to college and he to the military. Backward to the days of high school and younger—to their families and their lives long before Mystery Lake.

Those years weren’t something he thought about often anymore, and he tended not to talk about them. Until today, he hadn’t noticed that Juliana had done the same. Despite her easy smile, quick laughter, and genuine joy in her current life, he now understood that it had not always been this way for her.

Filing those revelations away, he grabbed the kit and headed back upstairs. For the moment, they had more immediate concerns.

“I can take care of it. It’s not as though it’s the first stubbed toe I’ve had,” Juliana said as he entered the room.

“You can, but this is easier,” he said, taking a knee in front of her and setting her foot on his thigh. He examined her toe again. What caught his attention, though, wasn’t the injury but the design on her toenail.

“Cute butterfly,” he said. Her nail, painted in a deep blue, sported a tiny red, orange, and yellow butterfly.

Juliana smiled. “The woman I go to for pedicures, Marcela, sometimes brings her daughter, Luz, into work with her on Saturdays. About a year ago, I noticed Luz drawing an adorable little ladybug and asked if her mom could draw the same design on my toe. It’s become our thing now.”

He half smiled. “Yeah? What other things has she drawn?”

“Tinker Bell, SpongeBob, a horse, a sunset, a daisy. Too many to remember.”

“What’s been your favorite?” he asked as he finished with the ointment and applied the first Band-Aid. Given the placement of the injury, she’d need two.

Juliana flashed him one of those smiles that lit her entire body—not just her lips or her eyes or her face, but it emanated from every inch of her, like the glow of a warm fire. “A box set of books.”

Of course. He should have known. Not all librarians read obsessively, but Juliana did. She’d talked about her favorites during their coffees, and he hadn’t been surprised to find the bookshelves surrounding her fireplace stuffed with both paper- and hardbacks.

“Any particular box set?” He had the second Band-Aid on, but he liked her bare foot resting on his thigh, so he remained on one knee, casually wrapping his hand around her ankle.

“One of my first favorites, Nancy Drew,” she replied, her nose wrinkling a tiny bit as she grinned with obvious love for the childhood series.

He chuckled as he absently rubbed the arch of her foot. Silence fell between them, and his mind returned to the man at her door. The fact that he scared Juliana was unacceptable, but today was only their third date. He had no right to demand answers. Or wrap her in Bubble Wrap and be the one who protected her from the world. Despite how much he wanted to do both.

“So,” he said on an exhale.

“You want to know what that was about,” Juliana said.

“Only if you want to tell me,” he replied.

Her eyes searched his, then she huffed a laugh. “Liar,” she said, sliding her foot from his thigh and rising. “You want to know regardless of whether I want to tell you. You just won’t bully me into it if I don’t want to.” She paused as he stood.

He exhaled. After only two dates, she knew him well. Thankfully, the knowing went both ways. She might be teasing him, but she had no intention of withholding anything.

“Having fun?” he asked, brushing one of her long curls over her shoulder.

She grinned. “You’re practically vibrating with a need for all the details. It’s a little intense.”

Again, he reminded himself this was only their third date. “I don’t like the idea of you being scared, but is it too intense?”

She cocked her head. “ Could you dial it back?”

An odd question, but one he sensed meant something more to her than idle conversation. Because of that, he gave his answer some thought before speaking.

“I could try,” he replied. “I don’t know if I actually could, though.” The first time he’d met Juliana it felt like stepping into a tornado—a brilliant, joyful whirlwind-of-a-woman tornado. She’d rushed around the library helping him and Mantis find what they sought, delighted to be assisting, intrigued by their requests, and insightful beyond measure. She hadn’t been all sunshine and smiles, though. By the time they left, they understood the brutal realities of the early days of California’s statehood, had copies of the critical documents they needed, and knew more about the darker side of Mystery Lake’s first few decades than most of the longtime residents.

The combination of her keen intelligence, the joy she took in her work, and her ability to be fascinated by both the wonder and horror of history had sunk him.

He’d tried to tell himself that what he felt for her could mean anything. But after their first coffee date—an interminable month after their first meeting—he’d stopped lying to himself.

He knew exactly where he wanted this relationship to go. Still, the surety felt a little uncomfortable, and he very intentionally hadn’t—wouldn’t—burden her with it. No need to scare away the woman he hoped to have in his life for a good long while.

He wouldn’t lie to her, though. If she was scared, or in danger, he’d do everything in his power to neutralize the cause.

“Does it bother you?” he managed to ask when she didn’t respond right away.

“You mean it, don’t you?” she countered. He tilted his head. “That man coming to the door really bothers you,” she clarified.

“ He doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is that he scared you.”

She studied him again, then much to his surprise, lifted up onto her toes—which had to hurt—and kissed his cheek. When she was back on her feet, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the stairs. “I’m glad you’re here to help, because I need it.”