* * *

Eve had learned many things since arriving at Castell Cottage, but it seemed her education was far from complete. Case in point: she had no idea of the grave threat posed by certain waterfowl until Jacob dragged her outside and told her sternly, “Ducks are little shits. Geese are worse. Swans are worst.”

“Ah,” she said, “right.” She was still faintly dizzy from all the semipublic kissing—and of course, Jacob’s We’re a couple moment, which she had found adorable.

Being this happy should be illegal. Even the goose couldn’t dampen her mood.

But it was certainly dampening the mood of Castell Cottage, if the scene on the gravel driveway was anything to go by. A big, gray goose waddled toward Mr. Packard, who’d checked into the Daisy Room with his wife just that morning. At the time, Mr. Packard had been a calm but friendly man in a nice check shirt. At present, he was a pink and nervous man climbing on top of his own car.

“Get it!” he shouted. Then he pointed at the goose, as if anyone could mistake his meaning.

“Are geese dangerous?” Eve asked no one in particular. It wasn’t a question she’d thought much on before, but Mr. Packard looked liable to lose control of his bladder, so she was forced to wonder.

“Sometimes,” Mont smiled, just as Jacob said grimly, “They are a great danger to the peace and dignity of my establishment, yes.”

“A goose can break an arm if it really gets going,” Mont went on, “but Jacob’s arm is already broken, so he’ll be fine.”

Eve was horrified. “He has another arm to break!”

“Yeah, but that’d be really bad luck.”

“Stop winding her up,” Jacob scowled. “It’s not going to break my arm. It’s just a goose. This isn’t its territory. It has no reason to resort to arm-breaking, and I’m sure even geese can be reasonable.” That said, he stormed off toward said goose with steel in his spine.

“If you’re sure,” Eve called after him. “Good luck, darling. Godspeed, et cetera.”

He waved.

“So,” Mont said as they watched Jacob approach the creature. “You and Jacob, huh?”

She felt herself flush. “I suppose so.”

“I’m pleased, to be honest with you.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“Go on,” Jacob was shouting, waving his cast around like a battering ram. “Be off with you!”

“Just go steady with him,” Mont said quietly.

Eve dragged her gaze away from the sight of a goose all but fleeing Jacob’s broken arm. “Hm?”

“He’s not as tough as he seems.” Mont’s voice was quiet, his own eyes on the goose, his focus clearly elsewhere. “That’s all. He’s not as tough as he seems.”

The goose exited the gate and waddled right. Eve opened her mouth to tell Mont that she knew, that she’d be awfully careful, that Jacob’s fragile brilliance was quite safe in her hands.

Then she heard a familiar voice floating through the air. Familiar, but impossible, of course.