He lifted a shoulder. She stilled, her hands on a decorative pillow.

Coming over to her, he eased the pillow from her hands. Tossed it on the bed. “I’ll watch our six. You just figure out the next move.”

He smelled good. Fresh. The impulse to put her hands on his chest, or around his neck, and simply hold on shook through her.

And just like that, she was back on the deck of her boat, impulsively kissing him. Not a real kiss. Just a decoy to throw off Pip, but . . . wow. He’d put his arm around her neck as if to hold her there, had nudged her lips open, as if hoping to deepen the kiss, and for a second, she nearly believed it. Believed that he wanted her as much as . . .

Nope. She wasn’t going to be that stupid again, thank you.

Colt was simply good at adapting, improvising, and doing what he had to in order to get the job done.

Which was why, probably, he put his hands on her arms, met her eyes. “Coffee is perking. You shower, then we’ll get breakfast and head to Shelly.” Letting her go, he left the room, drawing the door closed behind him.

She let out her breath, doing an inner fist pump that she hadn’t jumped into his arms, and headed to the bathroom.

Except, wait.

When she opened the bedroom door, he was standing at the window, staring out at the terrace that overlooked the lake. “How about clothes? I only have pajamas.”

“This will be fun,” he said and winked.

“Be kind.”

He laughed and left the room.

Oh boy. But an hour later, with Tae clean, dressed in a new pair of leggings, a blue T-shirt, and an oversized pink flannel cardigan that she could probably sleep in forever, they headed through a coffee shop drive-through. He’d also picked up a pair of pink Vans, which she sorta liked. More than sorta.

“Here’s your bagel,” he said, handing her the toasted salmon, eggs, and chive bagel and coffee. He’d opted for a breakfast burrito, his coffee black.

It felt like a road trip as they left the city on US-97, east through the mountains, Colt at the wheel. He’d asked if she wanted to drive, but really, she wasn’t a great driver, and frankly, she just wanted to think. So, no. He took the keys and helmed her cute Subaru like he was born behind the wheel.

“Radio?” she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. “Talk radio. Or maybe country?”

“No classical?”

He looked at her. “Really?”

“Beethoven for Bio Chem. Mozart for Immunology. Vivaldi for Microbiology and Virology.”

“What about at the gym?”

“Benny Goodman.”

“He wasn’t classical.”

“But he can get you moving. I was in the swing dance club.”

“I’ll bet,” he said. “Between your residency shifts.”

“And volunteering at our local clinic.”

“Saving lives from the start.”