Brady wasn’t as tall as Michael—he and Lena could probably stand eye to eye. His hair was as close-cropped as if he’d been shorn on an army base, and his biceps strained the sleeves of a Sugar Land Skeeters T-shirt. “Do you like baseball?” he’d asked when he saw me noticing it, and when I faltered, not wanting to offend him with the truth, he laughed. “No worries. This isn’t a team you support for its stats.”

Now he and Michael came over to me, their strides in sync despite the difference in their heights. Brady caught my eye and winked, like we were in on some kind of joke. Maybe I frowned a little, and he smirked, saying only, “Let me see what’s taking Lena so long with those ’ritas.”

As he disappeared into the house, Michael slid out of his canvas shoes and sat down, dangling his own hairy legs into the pool. I kicked him gently and he bumped me with his shoulder.

“What were you talking about over there?” I asked.

“The way the sprinklers go, there’s a space they don’t hit, by the fence, so you either have to water by hand or it just dries out. We were thinking about putting a tiered garden there and rigging up a kind of irrigation thing, old-school like the Egyptians used.”

“You were talking about the Egyptians?” Oh, it felt so sweet to be amused, to be having a good time. I’d missed this feeling.

“They had this reservoir drip irrigation system that would keep the beds moist without rotting out the fence like a spray of water would. But you’d need to do both sides.”

“So you’re having fun?” I knew he was, but saying it would mean I’d found us quality friends.

“Sure. He’s an interesting guy.” Michael leaned over and drew something on the surface of the water, a sketch absorbed even as his finger moved.

Brady came back onto the patio with a fresh pitcher of drinks. “She’ll be out in a sec. Hey, Michael, I think I’ve got some lumber and stuff in the garage. Let’s see what all we’ll need.” He set the margaritas down on the wrought-iron patio table. “Think this’ll keep you busy while we’re gone, Kacy?”

Before I could do more than grin, Michael was on his feet, water rolling down his calves. He slipped his wet feet into his shoes and followed Brady through the front gate.