“What type of work did you do while in prison?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about my time in prison. Or any other part of my history.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because I don’t like thinking about it.”

Ah! Proof that Luke needed a great deal of number four—conditioning. “Refusing to think about difficult experiences isn’t the best approach, psychologically.”

“I’ve never pretended to be a poster child for psychological health.”

She eyed the play of muscles in his sudsy forearms. “Sometimes it’s therapeutic to confront the hard parts of our past.”

“Are you a psychologist?” He spoke the words without any heat, yet his meaning was clear. He was questioning her right to lecture him on this topic.

“No, but I’ve been through some stuff. One brutal thing in particular that resulted in years of therapy.”

He paused to give her a skeptical look that said, Oh? What brutal thing? You weren’t elected homecoming queen?

“I’ve spent a lot of time soul-searching with psychologists,” she said, “and discussing matters of the heart with friends. I could talk through the ins-and-outs of personality and behavior for hours.”

“Not with me.”

“Well. If you ever do want to talk about anything, including your time in prison, I’m here. I visited my dad a lot while he was incarcerated. I’ve read books and watched documentaries about life inside. I follow a blog that elevates prisoners’ voices.”

He grunted as if unimpressed.

“For those reasons,” she continued, “I might be able to listen with more informed ears than some people. Also, I’m not easily scandalized.” She adjusted Hazel. “Time to wash the dogs’ hind legs.”

When Luke moved to do so, Arthur’s soggy tail caught him in the shoulder, spraying him in the face with droplets and leaving a dark wet stain. He froze, his aristocratic profile iron hard.

She bit her lip again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said without looking at her.

“If I say that I am, will you take it out on innocent Arthur?”

“I’m not in the habit of taking out anything on innocents.”

“In that case, yes. I’m enjoying this.”

“My irritation?”

“Mostly your company.”

She worked soap into Hazel’s paws. “What time would you like to come over for dinner on Sunday night?”

“Dinner’s unnecessary. I’ll just stop by, take a look at the clue, and go.”

“I’d like for you to stay and eat. It’s important to me to get to know the person who’ll be joining me on the treasure hunt.” It was true. Also, feeding him fulfilled step one and would give her an opportunity to dig around in his psyche. “Will seven o’clock work?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any food intolerances, allergies, or preferences that I should know about?”

“No.”

“Just so you’re aware, I’m vegan.”

“Of course you are.”