“I don’t know. It depends on the strength of his feelings and how committed he is to whatever purpose is motivating him. Whether he would resort to actual physical violence is a huge question mark.”

“In that case, until this is resolved, I guess I should keep my pepper gel close at hand.” She offered him a shaky smile and picked up her coffee.

“You could also reconsider personal protection—or take a hiatus from your show.”

Her nostrils flared, and she lifted her chin. “I’m not spending a fortune on a bodyguard—and I’m not going to slink away and let this guy win. This is America. People have a right to express their opinions. What kind of message would it send if I let this guy bully me into silence?” She set her cup on the table with more force than necessary. “This is as bad as the Antifa zealots who show up at rallies and protests hiding behind black hoods and masks and beat up people whose opinions they don’t like. That’s not how this country works.”

Man, she was a sight to behold when she got worked up, with her green eyes flashing and energy sparking off her like a transformer gone haywire.

“You don’t have to convince me, Eve. I’m on your side. And I admire your convictions. But you also have to take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be careful.”

That might not be enough.

Yet what else could he suggest? The PD didn’t have the resources to offer protection to citizens, and he couldn’t dispute the expense of private security.

Much as he disliked the thought of this woman being exposed to the risks that holding her ground entailed, he had to admire her willingness to stare this threat in the eye without backing down.

“The advice I gave you on Friday stands.”

“Duly noted.”

There was nothing else to say. This meeting was over.

But he didn’t want to leave.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “How did the painting go over the weekend?”

Eve seemed as surprised as he was by the off-topic question that spilled out of his mouth, but she recovered quickly—as if she too was happy to have an excuse to continue the conversation.

“Very well. Other than spinning class and church, I never ventured out the door. My neighbor, Olivia, came over for a few minutes with homemade pumpkin bread—and a question about her cellphone. She’s a sweetheart, but she’s lost in our wired world. Anyway, I focused on making progress in the house. I’m happy to report that the hall and living room ceiling and walls are finished. Next up is the hardwood floor.”

“How did you learn to do all that?”

“YouTube.” She grinned.

“Seriously?”