“Shit,” Olivia yelped. She untangled herself from Harlan’s arms, grabbed the comforter and pulled it up to her chin. “Could we do this later, Harmony?”

Beside her, Harlan stirred and stretched. “Is it morning?”

“Yes,” Olivia hissed.

“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

“How nice for you,” Olivia said. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got an audience.”

Harlan saw Harmony and waved.

“Stop that,” Olivia said. She raised her voice. “Go away, Harmony. I’ll come find you as soon as I get showered and dressed.”

“Okay,” Harmony said. “I’ll get the tea going.”

Someone else knocked on the opposite side of the vehicle. Olivia turned her head and saw Dexter Rose.

“Lucas Pine just phoned with an update,” he called through the glass.

“On my way,” Harlan said. He sat up and started to push the comforter aside.

“Do. Not. Move,” Olivia ordered. “You’re in your underwear, in case you hadn’t noticed, and you don’t even have all of it on.”

“But Pine phoned—”

“Stop.”

“We can’t stay here all morning.”

“I am aware of that,” she said through her teeth.

Several more curious faces appeared.

Euclid Oaks, the big, burly owner of the general store and the town mayor for as long as Olivia could remember, surveyed the scene through the rear window. His eyes sparked with amusement.

“None of my business,” he said, “but wasn’t it a little chilly out here last night?”

More faces appeared.

“Go away,” Olivia shouted. “Everyone, go away. I mean it.”

There was a lot of chuckling and several grins but, mercifully, the faces disappeared.

Olivia rounded on Harlan. “Get your pants on and get into the house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harlan said.

He tugged on his pants, picked up his shirt and grabbed the wrist brace. Except now, in the morning light, she could see it was not a wrist brace. It was a knife sheath. She decided she would inquire about it some other time.

“Go,” she ordered.

Harlan maneuvered himself into the front seat and cracked open the passenger side door. “What about you?”

She ran through her options. There was no knowing when someone else would decide to peek through a window. The prospect of trying to struggle into her clothes in front of an audience did not appeal.

She wrapped the comforter around herself, gathered up her things and got ready to throw open the rear door.

“Get the front door of the house open,” she said. “I’ll make a run for it.”

“Sure.” Harlan got out of the vehicle and went up the walk to the house. He opened the door and raised a hand to signal he was ready.