He’s back to being intimidating and distant, and as I hand him back the sparkly tri-corn horse helmet, I’m weighing whether I should try to be gabby, like Mom, or serious, and tell him about all the things I realized in his garage.

But before I can speak up, a bright blue sports car with an obnoxious, thundering racing engine screeches its brakes in front of the shop. Hypnotic music thumps from the interior, and three pale, male faces look out at us. I don’t know the two in the front, but the boy with his arm hanging out the back window is more than recognizable.

“What do we have here?” Adrian Summers drunkenly says. His face is still bandaged from the wreck with Evie, and he’s got terrible bruises under both eyes. Two crutches are propped on the seat next to him. “It’s the littlest Saint-Martin and Beauty’s only one-man motorcycle gang. I smell collusion.”

“And I smell vodka,” Lucky says with feigned cheerfulness. “Do you have a liquor license for your bar-on-wheels? Gonna have to report you to town hall if you don’t.”

Adrian makes a sloppy shooing gesture to Lucky and points a water bottle at me, the contents of which aren’t quite clear. “You. Is Wild Winona home?”

All my muscles tense. “Go away, Adrian.”

“I need you to do me a favor. Go upstairs and tell Evelyn to come down here. She’s not answering my texts, and I need to see her.”

No way in hell am I doing that. The two guys in the front seat are staring out at us, chuckling, and they look as inebriated as Adrian. Not sure if they’re Goldens or some of his Harvard buds, home for the summer.

“She’s probably in class,” I say.

“On Sunday?” Adrian says.

“She has a test,” I tell him. Ugh, Lucky’s right. I’m a terrible liar. She’s only taking one class this summer, and Adrian probably knows it.

“It’ll only take a minute. Tell her to come down now,” he says, slapping the car door with his open palm twice. “Chop-chop.”

“No one’s telling Evie anything,” Lucky says.

“Stay out of this,” Adrian warns. “Not your fight.”

“Not anyone’s fight,” I say. “I’ll tell her you came by.”

“But I’m here right now, and I came all this way. Come on,” he says, “Go fetch Evie.”

“I’m asking you nicely to please leave.”

“What if I say no?”

Lucky swings off his bike. “Get the hell out of here, Summers.”

“Or what? You’ll punch me? Call the cops and get thrown in jail again? And why are the two of you always together? Methinks you got a little something going on.”

“Not your business, is it?” Lucky says.

Adrian grins. “I mean, sure, she looks nice with her clothes off, but we’ve all seen it. Not worth it, man.”