The icy voice froze her insides. She jumped and whirled for the second time that afternoon, landing her gaze on a pair of immaculate running shoes.

“Surprised to see me?” Richard mounted the top step and stared. “From the look on your face, I’d say very surprised indeed.” He shifted his gaze to Jonas. “I believe we’ve met. Dr. Richard Bruce.”

“I believe we have.” Jonas stood. “Jonas Rishel.”

“This is a fine piece of work, Jonas Rishel.” Richard yanked one of the hefty support posts.

The gazebo barely shuddered.

Jonas retrieved his hat from the bench. “Excuse me.”

Richard kept hold of the post, blocking the entrance. “No need to leave. We’re all friends.”

He flashed a wolflike smile, and Tessa winced.

Jonas stepped toward Richard. Face to face, he towered over the young doctor.

Richard cleared his throat and stiffened.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as if at any second lightning would strike. For a sickening moment, she feared one of them might do something stupid.

“Excuse me,” Jonas said again.

His tone was firm but without malice.

“But of course.” Richard stepped aside.

Jonas loped down the steps and disappeared into the pines.

Richard barreled into the gazebo.

He paced the octagon like a caged animal. Stomach tightening, she shrank against the railing.

“I texted. I called. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

A twiggy spindle gouged her spine. “I had nothing to tell.”

He let out a snort. “Apparently, you did.”

How dare he cast her as the cheating girlfriend when she was unequivocal that night at the Lincoln log house? Cheeks ablaze, she leapt to her feet. “Not until yesterday.” She scanned the pines. Where was Jonas? She hoped he couldn’t hear Richard, but at the same time, she longed for his return.

“Right. So, two things are happening now. Number one: in all the excitement, you might have forgotten we have a major hospital event on August first—one you and I have been planning for nearly six weeks. I’d like all the relevant files.”

So, now he claimed ownership of the ball? As if he made one phone call or sent a single email. “I’m not finished with the arrangements. I need to confirm the band—”

“You’ve clearly got a lot on your plate. Claire and I will handle it.”

The sarcasm was mean-spirited but effective. Tears stung in her eyes. “I’ve put my whole heart into this ball—”

“Your heart, huh?” He barked a laugh. “Spare me.” He took the phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “And there’s the small matter of a house key.”

She caught her breath and pressed her palms to her cheeks. The ball was hers but the key? The key belonged to him.

“I’ll take that back, too,” he said without looking up.