“Cool. I never want to see them again.” Lillian shuddered.

“Storage room. Third floor,” Angie said without prompting.

“There’s a third floor?”

“Sort of. Here, I’ll show you.”

She followed Lillian up a staircase worn in the center tread by two centuries of feet, then down a long hallway to a second flight of stairs.

“Most of us keep our doors shut to keep James out,” Lillian explained as they walked. “Morgan and I are on this end, and Stevie and Angie are on the other.”

The stairs led to a large room filled with dust motes, boxes, and a few rolled carpets. Lillian rummaged through a corner until she pulled a crate out from a rusting collection of old bedframes. Paintbrush handles and trays poked out of it, along with a mound of what looked like drop cloths.

“This is a huge help.”

“It’s yours.”

Emilia accepted the box and they descended the stairs, leaving the dusty room shut behind them.

“Lil, have you seen the first aid kit?”

Emilia stumbled when she heard Morgan’s voice and barely caught herself against the wall. The support, it turned out, was more than necessary. Morgan waited at the base of the staircase, still damp from her shower and wearing only a sports bra and sweatpants. She didn’t seem to have noticed Emilia yet, which gave her a moment to compose herself. Unfortunately, it also gave her more time to stare. The black sports bra accented Morgan’s fair skin, and the dip of cleavage drew Emilia’s eyes down to the line of muscle beneath. She bit her lip. Abs like that just weren’t fair. Especially abs that ended at those hips, attached to that ass. What was it Anna Maria had said? Fuckable?

She raised her eyes slowly, alerted by the pause in the conversation. Morgan stared at her in shock.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” Lillian said with poorly concealed amusement.

“Um. Hi. I had no idea you were here.” Morgan rubbed the back of her neck in a gesture Emilia was beginning to recognize as her go-to move when she was nervous. It also accentuated the attributes Emilia had just categorized as decidedly fuckable, along with her biceps.

“Your truck isn’t in the driveway.”

“Stevie dropped me off and went to get gas. I got stepped on by a cow.” She pulled up the hem of her pants to reveal a bruised and swollen ankle.

“Shit. Should you be walking on that?”

“It looks worse than it is. Ace bandage, ice . . .” She trailed off. “I should put a shirt on.”

“No.” Emilia felt herself blush. “I mean, it’s your house. I’m the intruder. I can take off.”

“Fuck.” Morgan swore under her breath and sagged against the wall. Nell chose that moment to bound up the stairs in search of her person and paused to give Morgan an exuberant greeting.

“She met James.”

“And you’re still alive?” Morgan asked Nell.

“It was a near thing.”

“I bet it was.” Morgan stroked Nell’s narrow head.