She nodded. “Thank you, Colt.” But her voice emerged soft. And the look in her eyes, cloudy.

“You got it, Flo.” He winked at her. “And tonight, stay on land, okay? You start screaming and I’m liable to shoot someone.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Nodded. “Good night, Colt.”

His throat thickened. “Good night.”

Her feet swished through the grass, onto the deck.

The door closed.

He leaned his head back against the chair, then banged it a couple times.

What. A. Jerk.

But he sighed because, well, maybe he’d needed that little slap of reality.

Because his gut told him that something was out there, in the night, gunning for them.

And he wasn’t going to miss it, no matter the cost.

This was why Tae really shouldn’t be in a relationship—a romantic one, at least. She had absolutely no idea what just happened.

Just that, wow, somehow, she’d really hurt Colt, and she hadn’t the faintest idea how.

She headed down the stairs of the cabin to the lower level. A cozy area with deep well windows and two bedrooms—one with the door closed, clearly Zoey’s, and the other hers. With the cedar-lined walls and carpeted floor, the place was snug and safe and exactly what she needed after yesterday’s crazy events.

Oh, who was she kidding? The last three months had been generally off the hook, which was why, maybe, she’d been a little defensive.

“Don’t look at me like that. You started it.”

The conversation replayed in her head as she entered the bedroom, flicked on the light, and shut the door.

“The kiss? On your boat?”

He’d looked at her then with such—accusation? She’d dove right into the first thing that came to mind.

No big deal.

“Sorry. That was for show.”

She flopped on the bed and grabbed a pillow, putting it over her head, wanting to blot out the rest of the conversation, especially, “I clearly was headed in the wrong direction. We’re all good here.”

No, they weren’t. Not headed in the wrong direction, and definitely not good.

Sure, relationships weren’t her strong suit, but she’d have to be blind not to see the change in body language, hear the chill in his voice.

Only moments before, he’d said he wanted to kiss her.

She should have rushed him, thrown her arms around him, held on. Because that was exactly the direction she wanted to run.

Coward.

A knock tapped on her door, and she removed the pillow—probably shouldn’t self-suffocate anyway—and looked over to see Zoey pop her head into her room. “I thought you’d be by the fire.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She looked at the ceiling. “Apparently we’re just friends.”

“The way Colt looks at you doesn’t seem like just friends.”

“He’s just concerned. It’s in his blood.”