And then Neil’s light—jerking, swiveling . . .

Landing square on her motionless form just as Captain jumped at her.

If not for Captain’s interference, Neil might’ve let Sydney follow him all the way to the copse at the edge of the far field. Might’ve risked letting her in on his secret for the sole purpose of seeing just how dedicated she was to this nonsensical pursuit of hers.

Really, did she honestly think he hadn’t heard her traipsing after him? And what in heaven’s name was she wearing?

He pitched toward her, marching across the sparse field.

“I—I can explain.” Captain gave another jump, bumping his nose against her knee, a plea for attention. But she remained immobile.

“Explain what? Why on earth you’re following me? Or why the heck you’re wearing a bathrobe?” Over pajamas, judging by the baggy pants tucked into . . . were those Lilian’s rain boots?

She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as he reached her. “It’s just . . . you looked . . . suspicious.”

“I looked suspicious. Me. The man who lives here on this property. Not the girl in Greta Turner’s bathrobe.” Now that he got a better look at the thing, he’d recognize it anywhere. Guess the woman had left it here when she’d hightailed it out of town.

“Who’s Greta?”

He ignored her question. “Out with it. Why were you following me? What about a late-night walk looks so suspicious?”

She hugged her arms to herself over her front, but even in the dark, he could see the defiant gleam in her eyes. “It’s the way you darted across the yard. Looked behind you. Like you were making sure no one was watching.”

“I don’t remember looking behind me.”

“Not tonight. Last night.” She clamped her lips together.

But she’d already given herself away. “Ah, so this isn’t the first time you’ve spied on me.”

“I wasn’t spying.”

“And tonight you added stalking to the list.” Despite all the frustrations of this day—the dead generator, Tatum Carter, the still-broken air blower, and oh yeah, that hole in the barn loft he really needed to fix one of these days—he couldn’t help the tease in his tone. He crossed his arms and lifted one eyebrow.

Bit his cheeks to keep from laughing when her eyes narrowed.

“Just go ahead and laugh. Laugh all you want. I’m glad of it. Because you might be the grumpiest man I’ve ever met. So I’m glad I can provide some entertainment. I’m glad I could look ridiculous in your coat this morning. And in this getup tonight. And last night, barging into your bathroom.”

“Don’t forget falling through the haymow. Or being scared of Melba.”

“I’m not scared of that old cow.”

“Did you just stomp your foot?”

Her eyes were mere slits now and she mimicked his crossed arms. Then, with a huff, she spun and marched toward the trees. “Goodnight, Neil.”