Dani seemed to be eying the shower skeptically. “Okay.”

“Are you heading over to the boil my maman’s hosting tonight, cher? It’ll be the best food you’ve ever had for the low, low price of small talk and being reviewed as possible dating material by all the matchmaking grannies in town.”

Dani pulled a reluctant face. “I was thinking about just staying in for the night. I’ve got some work I need to catch up on.”

“Is it anything that you absolutely couldn’t put off until another night? Because most of your coworkers are going to be there. It’s a big welcome for all the personnel working in the bayou, a good chance for you to get to know your coworkers, put your best foot forward, and all that.”

She chewed on her soft lip. “Normally, I would be all about it, but I just got to a critical point I’m trying to make.”

“There will be pie. Lots of pie. Magical pie.”

She grinned. “Isn’t all pie magical?”

“This pie has something extra. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Dani sighed, then laughed. “This better be some amazing pie.”

Zed changed into the fresh shirt he’d saved in his saddlebag while Dani freshened up. She emerged from the house, wearing form-fitting jeans and a purple t-shirt that said, “Como se llama?” next to a dancing alpaca. Her long dark hair wound around her head in a shining coil. She’d accentuated her full lips with gloss the color of ripe strawberries. He loved strawberries.

“Any chance you’ll let me drive this baby sometime?” she asked as he handed her the spare helmet.

“Probably not, but if you hop on, I will fulfill all of my pie promises.”

Dani’s smile grew even wider as she whipped her leg over the seat. “Fair enough.”

As impressive as it might have been to speed out of the driveway, he took the long winding gravel path at a reasonable rate that wouldn’t risk tossing gravel. And it gave Zed a chance to savor the way Dani’s arms wound around his waist, while he shouted over the grind of the engine, “What have you been typing away on in there? I thought your work was more physical.”

“Just a bit of academic writing. The urge to publish is hereditary, you might say.”

“Are you working on your PhD, too?” he asked.

“No, there’s no such thing as a degree program in my field.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“I’m writing what I’m hoping will be the end-all-be-all work on energy rifts. Or at least I hope I am. There aren’t a lot of books written on the subject, and I thought, with the League’s resources, they might get the book into the hands of people who need it. People like me, who are just trying to help.”