If she’d stepped back, he’d have done nothing to stop her. But her absolute stillness was its own defense. It was he who stepped back, and kept it light despite a gnawing in the gut that was more than a stir of desire for her—it was a cold fury for whoever had hurt her.

“Seems I have a soft spot for more than your muffins.” He tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. “See you later.”

He strolled out, hoping the kiss and the ease of his leaving would give her something to think about.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep. Resigned to it, he thrilled Lucy by taking her for an early-morning swim in the inlet. The romp, and her sheer foolishness, worked off a good portion of his stiffness, and his frustration.

He watched Ripley finish her run on the beach and dive into the surf. Dependable as sunrise, he thought as she cut through the waves. Maybe he didn’t always know what went on in her head, or how it got there, but he rarely had to worry about Ripley Todd.

She could handle herself.

Lucy ran out to meet her as she started back, and the two wet females had a wrestle and a race. They both joined him on the upper porch, Lucy to flop down in delighted exhaustion, and Ripley sucking on a bottle of water.

“Mom called last night.” Ripley flopped down herself, on one of the deck chairs. “They made it to the Grand Canyon. They’re sending us six million pictures that Dad took with his digital. I’m afraid to start the download.”

“Sorry I missed the call.”

“I told them you were on a stakeout,” she said with her tongue in her cheek. “They got a kick out of the lobster caper. Any updates?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He sat on the arm of the Adirondack chair, and filled her in.

She turned her face up to the sky and hooted. “I knew I should’ve gone with you. Idiot drunk putz. Lobster Boy, not you.”

“I figured. He wasn’t that drunk, Rip.”

She lifted a hand, waved it at him. “Don’t start that. I’m in too good a mood for you to spoil it by mentioning Mia and her double, double, toil and trouble routine.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I usually do. I’m going to get a shower. I’ll take the first shift. You must be wiped.”

“I’m okay. Listen . . .” But he trailed off, trying to think how to put what he wanted to say.

“Listening.”

“I went by the yellow cottage on the way home. Nell’s lights were on, so I stopped in.”

“Aha,” Ripley teased.

“Gutter-face. I had a cup of coffee and a muffin.”

“Gee, Zack, I’m sorry to hear that.”