All at once, the room exploded in chaos. First of all, the spider wasn’t little at all. In fact, Brady was surprised she hadn’t felt the weight of it on her back. They were lousy with wolf spiders in Arbor Bay, thanks to all the trees, but it had been a hot minute since Brady had seen a giant like this. He wasn’t scared of them, but when they were almost the size of his palm? Well, he was going to try and use the paintbrush in lieu of touching the thing.

Or, at least, that had been his makeshift plan, until Sloane blew that straight to hell.

A screech unlike any he’d ever heard came from the woman’s mouth and echoed through the room. She added movement to the sound with a violent, flailing dance. One second, she was next to him; the next, she was in the middle of the garage wide-eyed, terrified, and ready to rumble.

Then she did something Brady had only ever seen in movies.

With wild abandon, Sloane De Carlo lifted up and then threw her shirt off like she was at Mardi Gras and had a burning desire to get a new beaded-necklace collection.

“Is it still on me?” she yelled, dancing a few steps away from where her shirt had fallen. She slapped at her body and spun around so he could see her back.

It, like the strap of her bra, was clear.

“You’re good.”

“Are you sure? Check my hair!”

Like he was magnetic, Sloane flew toward him. He didn’t mean to, but he laughed.

“Brady, I’m serious,” she screeched. “Is it in my hair?”

Brady put the paintbrush down again and took the dark waves of hair in his hands. It was soft, as he’d guessed it would be, and also spider-free.

“You’re good,” he repeated. “It’s not on you or in your—”

“Ahhhhh!”

Sloane did another move he’d never seen outside of the TV screen: she levitated off the ground and at Brady with one high jump. From a petite woman or not, Brady hadn’t expected that. On reflex alone, he caught her, wrapping his arms under and around her until he was holding her like a bride.

“What the—?”

“Look!” She pointed at her discarded shirt.

Even Brady got the willies as he watched the wolf spider scurry to the other side of the garage.

Sloane made a distressed sound caught somewhere between fear and exhaustion.

“Get me out of here,” she commanded, eyes not leaving the spot where the spider had gone.

Brady wasn’t about to argue. Not when her arm was like a vise around his neck. A hold that tightened when he tried to bend down and grab her shirt first.

“Leave it! I have others.”

“Yes, ma’am.”