“A sex cult?” Eve squeaked. “At a bed-and-breakfast?”

“Well,” Gigi piped up, “clearly their worries were unfounded, because it looks as though there’s only you and Jacob, and sex cults typically require multiple members. Unless that strapping young man from outside is also involved, in which case, bravo.”

“Mother,” sighed Eve’s dad in weary tones.

“What, Martin? I’m not taking this lightly, you understand. I’m simply examining the facts.”

Joy spoke sharply over everyone. “The point is, we had no idea what was going on, so we’re here to check on your well-being. That’s all. We had intended to give you space, wait for you to come home next week—”

“Next week?” Jacob interjected. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but—well, that was wrong. Pretty much everything said in the last ten minutes had been wrong, but also understandable. This statement, however, stuck out like a sore thumb. Eve couldn’t have been planning to visit home next week, because next weekend was the Gingerbread Festival.

“Or was it the week after?” Joy waved her hand. “I don’t know. Whenever you were coming back to begin the event-planning job. But you know you have a tendency to pick up, erm, less than suitable men, darling, so we thought we’d better nip up here just to check nothing was getting out of hand.”

Event-planning job. Jacob supposed he should be focusing more on the fact that Eve’s mother had just called him less than suitable—or had she simply insulted Eve’s general life choices? One of those. And usually, he’d be incredibly pissed by either option. But his brain was a little stuck on the phrase event-planning job, trying and failing to absorb it, to move past it, to make it make sense.

He looked at Eve, waiting for her to clear things up. Instead, she avoided his gaze and told her mother, “Jacob isn’t unsuitable, Mum. He’s exceedingly—good. And very—accomplished. And far cleverer than—” She spluttered awkwardly. “Oh, never mind. The event planning begins after next weekend.”

“The what?” Jacob asked, his voice harder than he intended. Couldn’t help it. He felt suddenly twisted and prickly, and—awkward and foolish and caught unawares. All the things he most hated to be.

Because apparently, Eve was leaving, and he was the only person in this room who didn’t know about it.

Eve’s dad, Martin, glared at Jacob with surprising force. “Do you know, son, I’m not sure how this conversation is any of your business.”

Jacob stood up straighter, feeling himself ice over. “I’m Eve’s employer. Her whereabouts during our busiest season are certainly my business.”

“Well,” Martin shot back, “our Eve has a lucrative opportunity in event planning beginning in September, so perhaps you won’t be her employer for much longer.”

Those words plunged Jacob into ice water. He ground his teeth practically to dust, trying to hold on to the leftovers of the day’s happiness—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Because all of a sudden, he was uncertain, he was an outsider in his own safe haven, and the woman who should be with him—the woman who should always be with him—was planning to leave. Had been planning to leave all along, he realized. When he turned to look at her, the guilt was written all over her face. Her brows were drawn tight together, her eyes huge and shimmering, her teeth sinking into her lip. He wanted to go over there and put his arms around her, to comfort her.