“We’re debating Khan.”

“Genghis Khan?”

“No. Khan Noonien Singh.”

“I don’t know who that was—is.”

“Star Trek.”

“Oh. I saw the movie.”

“The, as in singular? Which one?” Riley demanded.

“I’m not sure. It was on cable.”

On a sigh, Riley patted the space beside her. “Girl needs an education.”

“Want a beer?” Sawyer gestured toward a wide stone table Sasha saw held a barbecue pit. “There’s a fridge back there. We stocked it from the kitchen.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s wonderful out here, but it feels too cool yet for swimming.”

“Not for hardy souls, right, Sawyer? Plus it’s solar heated.” She angled her head to look at the sketch. “Prickly pear.”

“Is that what it is?”

“Yeah. It should fruit in a couple months.”

“What do they taste like?”

“Mmm. Watermelon, sort of.”

Sasha let out a quick laugh. “Watermelon on a cactus. As strange as mythical stars. I saw a dolphin—I think—in the water. In what Bran said they call Canal d’Amour.”

“Going for a swim to look for your one true love?” With a quick smirk, Riley lifted her beer.

“I don’t think so, but I may paint it.”

“Might be fun to try it—the swim,” Sawyer explained. “We mate for life in my family, so maybe I’d run into her.”

“Huh. Same with mine. They mate for life. Which is why,” Riley said definitely, “I wouldn’t risk the swim. I find my mate, that’s it. No more playing around.”

She rose, stretched. “What about you, Sash? The field or the goalposts?”

“What?”

“Playing the field or the touchdown with love?” Sawyer interpreted.

“I . . .” She saw Bran, in black trunks and white unbuttoned shirt, crossing the lawn. Hearts did skip beats, she thought. It wasn’t just a cliché. “I don’t really think about it.”

“Everybody thinks about it,” Riley claimed. “I’m going back in.” She dove off the side, surfaced sleek as a seal, then rolled to float. “Hey, Irish, water’s good. Take advantage. We’ll be hunting and scouting and digging before much longer.”

“You’re right about that.”

“And not much time for a beer by the pool.” Sawyer set his down. “I’m on pool maintenance, unless you want it.”

“It’s all yours.” As Sawyer jumped in with Riley, Bran shrugged out of his shirt. “Can’t swim?”

“Of course I can swim.”

“Good.”

He plucked her right up.

Her utterly shocked “Don’t!” had Apollo bellying out to dance and bark.

“Do!” Riley shouted as Sasha tried to wiggle free. “Dare you.”

“Oh, well then, she dared me.”

“This isn’t funny. Just—”

Whatever she’d started to say ended on a scream as he got a running start and jumped in with her.

She surfaced, sputtered.

“It’s pretty funny,” Sawyer said.

With no choice, Sasha tread water. “It’s cold!”

“You’re just not used to it yet.” To help her along with that, Bran went under, and pulled her with him.

“Better?” he asked when she came up again.

“What are you, twelve?”

“The man who loses the boy is a sad and serious man.”