Temple gave a long-suffering sigh from her perch on top of the kitchen step stool where she was eating half a thinly sliced apple. She’d slicked her hair into its customary long ponytail, a style that put her almond-shaped eyes and increasingly sharp cheekbones on full display. She’d been on the island a little over six weeks. The fleshy cushion beneath her chin had disappeared, and her long, toned legs testified to her hard work. But instead of being happy, she’d grown tenser, more short-tempered, sadder.

“Your directions,” Lucy said to him.

“Which work a hell of a lot better than whatever it is you’re doing,” he retorted.

“In your opinion.”

“Children!” Temple exclaimed. “Do not make me spank.”

“Let me,” Panda drawled.

Lucy curled her lip at him and left the kitchen to take the kayak out. She resented the tension between them. She wanted the fun back. Without fun, what was the point of this affair?

She was glad when the water got so choppy she had to focus all her attention on paddling.

TEMPLE APPEARED FOR DINNER THAT night in a clean version of the workout clothes she wore all day. Her body was muscular perfection. Her black racer-back top exposed arms with every tendon defined, and her matching Spandex shorts rode low enough to showcase a hollowed-out, muscle-rippled abdomen. She and Panda together were a matched set—both of them overexercised, restless, and surly.

Lucy muttered something about two nutcases on human growth hormones. Temple glanced at Lucy’s waist and made a reference to an aimless loser with middle-aged spread. Panda growled at them both to shut up so he could eat tonight’s crap in peace.

Unlike Panda, Lucy had no complaints about the underseasoned frozen beef stew—thanks to the sweet potato fries and giant sugar cookie she’d downed in town. Temple began a halfhearted lecture about the link between childhood illnesses and adult immunity, and when she asked Panda if he’d ever had chicken pox. Lucy couldn’t resist butting in. “Privacy intrusion. Panda doesn’t talk about his past.”

“And that galls you,” Panda retorted. “You won’t be satisfied until you know everybody’s business.”

But he wasn’t everybody. He was her lover.

“He’s right, Lucy,” Temple said. “You do like to poke around in other people’s heads.”

Panda flipped sides by pointing a fork at his employer. “Somebody needs to poke around in yours. The longer you’re here, the bitchier you get.”

“That’s a lie,” Temple retorted. “I’ve always been bitchy.”

“Not this bitchy,” Lucy said. “You’ve lost twenty pounds, and—”

“Twenty-four,” Temple said defiantly. “No thanks to either of you. Do you have any idea how depressing it is listening to you snarl at each other?”

“Our snarling doesn’t have anything to do with your problem,” Lucy said. “You have a textbook case of body dysmorphia.”

“Ewww … ,” Temple scoffed. “Big words.”