Her hands fisted by her sides, and I braced myself to catch one if she swung at me. But she didn’t. No, she stood there, unmoving, with water dripping off her in a steady pat, pat, pat on the polished concrete floor.

“And you haven’t changed at all,” she shot with her smart little mouth. “Still the same degenerate you always were. I’ll have to update the sign. We’ve gone eighteen hundred twenty-five days without anyone getting groped in the greenhouse. Should have erased it the second I heard you were coming back.”

I laughed. “Admit it. I give an excellent grope.”

She made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a growl, her jaw bolted shut as she stormed past. But I hooked her arm, chuckling.

“Hang on, Tess. I’m sorry—I really am. I thought you were Ivy,” I admitted.

Instead of looking forgiving like I’d hoped, she seethed. “Well, sorry to disappoint,” she ground out.

“Who said I was disappointed?”

I stepped into her before she could speak, and she froze when I cupped her face. The first taste of her skin against my palm was cool, warming immediately as her cheeks flamed with a brilliant flush. I couldn’t tell if it was an angry flush or not.

But I didn’t hesitate to consider it as I inspected her, turning her head so I could check it for bangs or cuts.

“You hit your head pretty good,” I said gently. “I wouldn’t have grabbed you like that if I’d realized it was you. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, removing herself from my grip.

She turned on her heel, blowing past the table and to the back where we kept the cleaning supplies.

I followed her like an asshole. “I’m looking for Mom. Have you seen her?”

Tess swiped a scratchy white towel off a stack and blotted her face. “She’s at home, waiting for you. You should go. Now.”

“Oh, you’re not getting off so easy.” One of my brows rose with one corner of my mouth.

She rolled her eyes so hard, I was pretty sure she saw Bleeker Street. “Go away, Luke.”

My smile slipped, and I glanced back at the coolers. “I mean it. At least let me clean up the mess.”

“I’ve got it,” she fired because surely her mouth was a weapon.

“I insist,” I said with velvety persistence, reaching around her for a couple of towels. “Let me try to make it right.”

She froze but for her eyes, which tracked my hand like it was a goddamn cobra.

“You know,” I started with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Her eyes cut to me with a flash. “I don’t bite.”

“That’s not what Ivy said,” she countered.

That bought her a full-blown laugh. “Fair enough. But I haven’t nibbled on Ivy in half a decade.” I turned for the coolers. “Where’s she at?”

“She’s off,” Tess said, toweling off her hair. When she thought I was out of earshot, she let out a heavy sigh.