Shay drew his lips tight, but he gave me a slight nod, like he understood what I couldn’t say.

The black horse nudged me, demanding attention, and I turned to him, stroking his face.

Shay shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, appearing only mildly less threatening as he moved closer to me. “You like that one, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s friendly.”

Shay’s lips quirked at my jab. It might’ve even been a smile.

I ran my hand down the horse’s neck, thankful for the change of subject. While I wasn’t as ready to talk about Kori as I’d thought, I still needed to find out more about him, figure out what Kori had needed to work out with him. Was it business? Personal? And why had she never mentioned him to me?

First I wanted to find out what exactly he was doing here and why he was playing sergeant for the Sugar Police. “I didn’t get the impression you lived around here.”

“Don’t.” After a few awkward beats: “You shouldn’t have let me think you were her online. I might’ve said something I shouldn’t have.”

So much for changing the subject.

“Kori and I don’t … didn’t have secrets.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing.

I glanced in the direction he’d come from undeterred in my effort to find out more about him. I spotted a half-built pyramid of hay bales by the barn. “So you work here now? I didn’t know Mr. Miller was hiring on.”

He pinned me with his eyes and stiffly spoke. “Sudden need, I guess.”

“Oh.” Despite his efforts to end my line of questioning, I asked, “So, do you like working here? With the horses, I mean?”

“They crap a lot.”

I laughed. “They’re amazing creatures. I could spend all day with them.”

His gaze held mine a little too long and he shifted his stance.

I dropped my eyes to his lips and my breath hitched. “But I’ve got to go,” I said quickly.

He didn’t stop me. But he did call after me, “Hey, Dynamite Hacker, I didn’t catch your real name.”

I turned back, looked him up and down in a sarcastic challenge. “Are you going to write it down on some sort of security log? You know, to prove that I’ve been warned once before you haul me in?”

He held his hands out in surrender. “No, I promise, no citations.” He laughed at his previous bad cop routine, probably realizing it was really idiotic and he deserved to be called on it. “Just no sugar cubes.”

“Then it’s Serena, Serena Moore.”

“Serena. I’m Shay, Shay Miller.” Miller, of course. Now it made sense.

I repeated the name aloud, enjoying the way the syllables surfed across my tongue. Shay Miller. Then: “I didn’t know Mr. Miller had a son.”