As Chris and Vega chat in the kitchen, Haven and I amble past the Hidcote, me carrying the picnic basket and her carting a blanket. The fairy lights welcome us at the entrance to the maze, and we go inside.

  “Can you imagine what it’ll be like with school kids here? Trying to find their way out? Laughing, having a blast when they reach dead ends?”

  “Like we did when we first explored it.”

  “So many years ago.” We were the original lavender maze wanderers. We’ve known its paths for decades, so we head to our favorite spot. Once we settle on the picnic blanket and spread out the food, I’ll ask what she thinks about me talking to Banks and whether maybe I should return with her tonight to her hotel and find him there.

  But before we can turn the corner, a voice calls out.

  “Haven! Got a second?”

  It’s Chris, and when we turn around, he’s jogging into the maze to meet up with us, that warm smile matching his equally warm voice. When he reaches us, he first turns to me. “Thank you again for all your hospitality. I couldn’t have done this without you. It was as profound as I’d expected.”

  “My pleasure,” I say.

  Then he focuses his attention squarely on Haven. “I was just talking to Vega, as you know, about some of her future projects,” he says. “And I told her I’d love it if she could keep me in mind for the TV show she might be doing with you.”

  Haven’s smile is slow and surprised. “Of course. I’d love to work with you again.”

  “It would be an honor. Truly.” He shifts again toward me. “Permission to hug?”

  “Absolutely,” I say. As he brings me in for a hug, a twig snaps beneath his foot, breaking the silence of the otherwise still night.

  He asks the same of Haven, they exchange a hug, and then Chris takes off. As we head deeper into the maze toward our favorite picnic spot, I whisper, “Did he just ask to be on a project with you?”—even though, of course, that’s what he did.

  “Yes,” she says, then holds out her arm, the hair on it standing on end. “Pinch me.”

  “How the tables have turned,” I say.

  A twig snaps again.

  That’s when it hits me. That first twig wasn’t under Chris’s foot. It was a few rows of lavender hedge away.

  A feeling of unease creeps up my spine. “Haven, we should go,” I say.

  I reach into my pocket for mace but come up empty. Right. I’m at home, on the farm, where I’m safe.

  Except, I don’t feel safe.

  Time to turn around. But when I do, I walk right into a slab of a man instead. He’s holding a camera. His hair is blond and slicked back, and he looks terribly familiar.

  He’s the guy who hit on me the night I met Banks. And in a heartbeat, he grabs me and yanks me into a chokehold.

  51

  MY NEW PARTNER

  BANKS

  A few minutes ago…

  I check the text as Hudson lifts his snout, his ears pricking.

  Tyler: Hey. Good thing you checked. There’s some new hotshot photographer who’s working for News Site Ink and anyone he can sell to. His name is Ian Joseph. Used to be a news photographer but lost his job when a lot of pubs went under. He’s upside-down in credit card debt. Now he’s making a living as a studio photographer, but evidently, he supplements his income from time to time with celeb shots. What do you need to know?

  That’s a damn good question. With my project nearly finished, I head to the door. I’m honestly not sure I need to know anything more right this second. Because the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my gut is telling me something right now.

  But so is Hudson.

  Out of nowhere, he’s up and racing to the door, barking at it. “What’s going on, Hudson?” I ask as I swiftly join him, while googling Ian Joseph.

  The second his picture pops up, I nearly crush my phone in my hand.

  Are you fucking kidding me? That’s the sleazeball who hit on my woman the night I met her. He must have been the one who took the picture of us the other night, not her ex. That smug smile from her ex was just a smug smile. I burn, lava flowing through my veins. As I throw open the door, Hudson tilts his head, his ears pointing up. I track him and spot a shadow slipping into the maze on the far side.

  Not on my watch.

  Adrenaline rushes through me, bulldozing any remnants of fear right out of the way. I run like hell across the front of the lawn, past the shop, to the fairy lights illuminating the lavender maze. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Daveed hanging back by my car, then straightening up when I pass like a shot. But I’ve got no time to assess whether he moves or not.

  Haven took Ripley into the maze for a midnight picnic to keep her busy. To get her safely out of the way so I could be in the cottage. And some scum sneaked in on the other side. The shoot’s over, so we no longer have round-the-clock guards. Even if we did, the property is huge, and a picket fence is nothing to penetrate despite the floodlights.

  When I reach the mouth of the maze, I hurtle in with Hudson, powered only by the need to get to the women right this second. And I nearly run into Chris Carlisle. “What’s going on?” he asks, alarmed.

  Me fucking too.

  But I’ve got no time to talk. “Someone’s here,” I mutter, then sidestep around him, following the dog.

  Briefly, my mind jumps back in time to the other night when Hudson chased a ball into the maze. Holy shit. He knows the maze perfectly. Knows the dead ends and the pass-throughs. He barks at me urgently.

  I follow him, racing around one coil, avoiding paths that go nowhere as the sound of a struggle grows louder.

  52

  TWIN TRICKS

  RIPLEY

  The douchebag locks his arm around my neck, my back to his chest as he breathes on me. He smells like patchouli and sandalwood, like he did that night at the hotel bar.

  Then, he was just a jerk, not taking no for an answer. Now, he’s a threat.

  My pulse is surging, and my brain is racing quickly through escape plans, the ones my grandma taught us. But first…his arm. He’s not cutting off my airway, but he’s coming far too close.

  Before I can knock him down or kick him in the balls, I need to turn my head so he doesn’t cut off my air.

  “I’ll make this real easy for you two,” he hisses as he sneers at my sister, and in the distance, I hear the scrabble of paws against grass, then footsteps, moving fast.

  I don’t know how close they are, and Haven’s eyes are wide, etched with terror—and fury too. “Let her go, you jackass,” she bites out.

  “I will. If you do something for me.” As he tries to negotiate whatever the hell he’s doing, I’m focused on one thing—getting enough oxygen that I don’t pass out. Carefully, I turn into his body to relieve the pressure on my airway. “How about you call Chris over here right now?” he says. “So I can get something this time. Now I want my fucking picture.”

  Jesus. This guy is desperate.

  “No,” I spit out.

  “I’d be happy to hurt your sister so you can help me,” he offers to Haven in a faux sweet voice.

  Fear charges through me, but so does rage, and I lift a foot to kick him in the shins, but I only clip the edge of his leg.

  He dodges the blow, feinting a bit to the side but still keeping that arm around my neck.

  “Let her go,” Haven demands as she reaches her hand into her front pocket. Please let that be her mace.

  As I work out a better angle to kick the guy, I hear Hudson barking somewhere nearby. I don’t know what my dog will do if he reaches us. He’s a tracker and a lover, but he’s not a fighter.

  I don’t let it distract me. I have to focus on fighting.

  “One picture, then I’ll let you go,” he says. “Because guess what? I’m not missing the chance this time.”

  This guy is pissed because he didn’t get something from me that night? So now he’s determined to get what he thinks he deserves?

  Fuck him.

  Haven jerks her arm out of her pocket right as I lift my right foot and put everything I’ve got into a kick aimed straight at his crotch. Hudson’s barks grow louder. As I connect, Banks flies around the corner of the hedge past the dog, lunging for the guy while I kick the bastard in the balls.

  Banks grabs the guy’s arm right as he tries to reach for his bruised crotch with it. “Fuck, that hurt,” the guy whines.

  “Good,” Banks seethes, then rips him the rest of the way off me. In no time, Banks slams him to the grass, jerks both arms behind him, and pins his wrists.

  Oh.

  Ohhh.

  Banks sinks a knee onto the guy’s back.

  “Get the fuck off me,” the asshole mutters in between gasping breaths.

  With anger pouring off his body in waves, Banks fumes at him, “Like I told you before, get away from my girlfriend. And her sister.” Hudson jumps in front of the guy, barking right at his face.

  “Fucking dogs,” the guy grumbles.

  Banks jerks the guy’s wrists harder, handling him in a whole different way than he handles me. “And don’t even think about touching her dog.”

  The helpless photographer kicks his feet as if he can escape that way. But it’s like watching a cartoon character try to free himself from under an anvil. Banks is impassable as Hudson barks angrily at the guy who’s trespassed in his maze.

  And the man who swore he’d protect me turns to me with passion and fire and love in his deep-brown eyes.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks with such worry that my heart breaks beautifully.

  “I’m okay. I kicked him in the balls!” I bounce on my feet, a surge of post-ball-kick adrenaline coursing through me.

  “And I was about to mace him if you hadn’t,” Haven says, waving a small pink tube.

  “Twin tricks,” I say, then, flooded with relief, I hug my sister, and I’d really like to fall into Banks’s arms too, but he’s busy restraining the guy who’s clearly so pissed at me for turning him down, at Banks for saving the day, and at himself for failing to take a picture of me in the wild back then, that he followed us into a maze tonight.

  Only it’s my maze, my farm, my home. As Banks jerks him up from the ground, keeping a firm grip on his hands, I stare at the guy who does indeed look like the douchey boss in a movie. He’s got a fancy dress shirt on tonight too. I guess he thinks he doesn’t look like a scumbag photographer, but he does look like a scum.

  “Guess you missed the shot a second time, asshole,” I say, then smile at the jerk.

  And we leave the maze.

  53

  ORIGAMI SEA

  RIPLEY

  Sheriff Simmon flips her notebook closed, then pushes her beige hat farther on her head. “Thanks for all the info, Ripley. That’ll be real useful,” she says, standing on the farmhouse porch.

  “No problem,” I say.

  “And you too, Haven,” she says, nodding to my sister.

  “Happy to help,” Haven says.

  Sheriff Simmon knows us both because she goes way back. She’s been the sheriff in Darling Springs for about fifteen years.

  “You’re taking him in on trespassing?” Banks confirms, his arm locked protectively around my waist. He hasn’t let go of me since he handed off that asshole to the authorities. Chris contacted them while we were in the maze, and they arrived quickly.

  “Yes, we are. Assault too,” the sheriff adds.

  “Good. Thanks for coming so quickly,” he says.

  She nods, then says to me, “We’ll be in touch. And thanks again for sending Chloe my way. She’s great with Baxter.”

  “Glad to hear. Spicy Chihuahuas are her specialty.”

  “He’s the spiciest.” She and her deputy return to their vehicle, where Ian Joseph stews in the backseat, handcuffed.

  While Sheriff Simmon was taking Haven’s statement, Banks told me Ian Joseph has been freelancing recently for some online celeb sites, trying to make a fast buck or two to get out of debt. He’s the one who snapped the picture of Banks and me outside Prohibition Spirit the other night and set it loose online—not my ex. Guess Ian remembered, too, that Banks had called me his girlfriend once upon a time, and he had a bone to pick.

  Ian’s also the one who took the shot of Haven and me inside that night. And based on what Banks told the sheriff—a bunch of people had taken Chris and Haven’s picture when they left the wrap party—it seems Ian was among them and followed the car unseen to the farm, then parked far away and entered on the other side of my property. Haven was right when she said some photographers are really good at staying hidden to get the shot they want. He must have stayed out of sight earlier this week at the bar, and again tonight.

  But that guy is off my property now, cruising into custody.

  There are still too many people here though—Chris and Daveed, Haven and Wanda, Grandma and Vega—when I only want to be with the man holding me.

  So I can tell him how I feel.

  I’ve hardly had a chance to think about what it means that he’s still here. But he called me his girlfriend, and I can’t help but love that. Even so, I’m going to say my piece as soon as I get a second alone with him.

  Grandma hugs me one more time, making sure I’m okay, then Haven clears her throat and says, “Everyone leave.”

  I blink. Whoa. “Someone’s bossy.”

  “Yes, that was the whole point of my coming here. Go and enjoy your midnight picnic,” she tells me.

  Right, the picnic. I’d forgotten about that, but Chris and Daveed picked up the food in the maze that Hudson didn’t eat. I’m not hungry, though, so Haven thrusts the picnic basket at Grandma, and Banks says to me, “Your sister makes a good point. We should enjoy this.”

  And I do want to be alone with him desperately, but still, I ask Haven, “What did you mean—why you’re here?”

  But she waves me off and heads to Wanda’s car. Another switcheroo.

  I don’t bother with the hostess thing and say good night. I just wave and head to the cottage with the man and the dog.

  Banks keeps his arm around me the whole time, his fingers running along my arm like he can’t bear not to touch me.

  When we reach the cottage, I say, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  “There’s something I want to tell you too,” he says, reaching for the doorknob.

  “You go first,” we say in unison, then laugh.

  He opens the door, holding it for my dog and me. I’m about to say I’m in love with you when my gaze lands on a sea of origami on the bed.

  My hand flies to my mouth. “What is that?” I ask, breathless, full of wonder.

  “It’s for you.” He sounds nervous but hopeful—the opposite of how he was thirty minutes ago in the maze when he was tough and terrifying.

  I love all sides of him, including this tender, romantic one.

  “I enlisted your sister’s help to keep you busy so I could do this,” he explains.

  So that’s what Haven meant.

  I walk slowly to the bed, in awe of the gorgeous array of pink, red, and white folded letters of the alphabet.

  I pick up the first one. It’s the letter I. Then I read the others, neatly arranged on the bed.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  Let’s try again.

  So simple. So…everything.

  I can’t believe he professed his love to me in origami. Emotions swim up my chest, filling me with joy and happiness, with possibility and soul-deep love. I spin around, my throat tight as I say, “I love you too. So much.”

  Banks crosses the room in a flash, lifts me in his arms, and holds me close. “I’m so glad you’re okay. When I saw that guy with his hands on you, all I could think was I can’t let him hurt the love of my life.”

  The intensity of those words echoes like a loud, bright bell. “The love of your life?” I ask, looking back at him.

  He sets me down, cups my cheeks, and nods earnestly. “When you know, you know.”

  My smile is so wide, it can’t be contained. “I know too. I feel the same.”

  He ropes his arms tighter around me and peppers me with kisses. “I can’t let you go. You’re worth it. You’re worth everything. I can’t put work in front of you. You’re what I want most in the world.”

  My eyes shine with tears. “You’ve got me then.”

  He pulls back and holds my face, his chocolate eyes filled with promise. “We’ll make this work. You’re worth it,” he repeats as if making sure I’ve heard him.

  But I did. “We’re worth it, Banks. We are.”

  He kisses me again, with an intensity that says he fears he almost lost me tonight. With a passion that says he doesn’t want to let go.

  I don’t either.

  I melt into his kisses. I glow under his touch. And I want all of him.

  I pull him to the bed, the back of my knees hitting the edge of the mattress.

  “Hold on,” he says, then sweeps the origami onto the floor.

  “It’s a mess,” I shriek playfully.

  “And I don’t care,” he says, then he peels off my clothes and lays me down. His clothes vanish next, and soon, he’s sinking inside me.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders, and I pull him close, deep inside me.

  It’s different this time. It’s somehow even better. Once more, we come together in the cottage.

  Only this time, we won’t be a secret in the morning.

  After we wake the next day and shower, we get on our bikes and ride into town. We grab coffee together and hold hands as we walk along Main Street, a road so familiar I could close my eyes and still find every shop.

  As we near the crosswalk, Banks peers ahead with curious eyes. I follow his gaze to the end of the block where a man’s popping out of a real estate office.