“They might have been over anyway. I found an earring near the barn today that may have belonged to Stephanie.” She explained the rationale behind her conclusion.

His eyebrows rose. “How did you manage to find an earring in the midst of all the dead leaves and underbrush?”

“I’m thorough.”

“And I’m impressed.”

She smothered the glow his praise engendered and waved a dismissive hand. “Some of it was luck.”

“Whatever the basis for your find, I’m glad you’re done with the woodland hikes for now. You should try to lay low for a few days, let your injuries heal.”

“Already in the plan, as it happens. Before I started this assignment, I told my boss I wanted the Martin Luther King holiday weekend off. Our story is that my dad planned to come to town to spend it with me and see how I’m doing at school. The hotel room is already reserved. I’m out of here tomorrow after classes.”

“That timing worked out nicely. Where are you staying?”

She told him, and his eyebrows rose.

“Nice.”

“My dad’s rich, remember? He wouldn’t stay in a run-of-the-mill place.”

“Holing up alone in a hotel room with room service for a long weekend ought to give you a chance to rest and recuperate. Especially there.”

“I’m not going to be alone.”

The wave of shock that passed across his face was gratifying at a deep, elemental level.

“Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, still hope you get some rest.”

If she wanted to discourage any intentions he was harboring about discussing their history down the road—and perhaps rekindling the flame—she ought to keep her mouth shut and let him jump to the wrong conclusion. That would put a stop to any further conversations of a personal nature.

“It’s Grace’s thirtieth birthday, and I promised her I’d be there. She and Eve and I are having a girls’ weekend out.”

As the explanation hung in the air between them, she smothered a groan. What on earth was wrong with her? She should have let him stew about her weekend plans.

Yet the relief that chased away his shock and relaxed the taut line of his jaw was gratifying on a different level.

One she refused to acknowledge.

“That should be fun.”

“It always is.” Through the cracked door, Cate caught sight of her roommate rounding a corner. “Kayla is coming back.”

He retreated a few steps, propped one shoulder against the wall, and folded his arms.

The girl knocked. “Can I come back in?”

“Sure.”

She entered, two sodas in hand, and held out the Diet Sprite. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thank you.” Cate rewarded her kindness with a smile as she popped the tab. “This is my favorite.”