“Alex, go put a shirt on.”

“In a second, Mom.”

Before she could say anything else, she threw her hands in the air. “My pork loin!” She rushed into the kitchen, leaving Alex alone with the most perfect woman in the world. He took a few steps toward her. “I’m really glad you came, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She bit her lip. “Me, too. We have a lot to talk about.”

He nodded. “I’m all answers. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Not over dinner. Not in front of your mom.”

“Understood. Thank you for coming.”

She shrugged. “Your mother’s pretty hard to say no to.”

He smiled. “Welcome to my life.”

The little half-smile he got in response was perfect. “You really should go put a shirt on. It’s very distracting looking at all…” She waved her hands at him. “This.”

“In a second.” The thread of hope unwound a little more, buoyed by her presence. Things weren’t back to normal by any means, but at least he and Roxy were speaking again. He took another step toward her. She smelled like flowers and soap. It was a good smell. He lowered his voice. “But first, I have to tell you that you’re one of the strongest people I know. You made your own success and you left a man who didn’t treat you right. That takes guts. I will never underestimate you again. And I don’t blame you for being mad at me. I was an idiot.

She sighed and nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He lifted a finger. “Shirt.”

He raced to his room, grabbed the first clean T-shirt he saw and dragged it over his head. Then he returned to her, so wishing he could touch her cheek or take her hand or make contact with her somehow, but that was too much to ask of her in this moment. “Do you think we could talk now? At least enough to make you comfortable? We could go sit on the back porch. Have a drink. My mother brought sangria.”

She glanced toward the rear sliders, then nodded. “Okay.”

That single word sent a new burst of happiness through him. “Great. C’mon.” He headed for the porch, opening the slider to let her through. Then he went to the fridge, pulled out the sangria and a fresh beer for himself, and poured Roxy a glass of the fruity wine his mother loved so much. “Mom, we’ll be outside. Call us when dinner’s ready.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and smiled at him. “You take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.” He hesitated. “For everything.”

She lifted her chin proudly. “No one can resist my tres leches.”

He winked at her. “I’m sure that’s what it was.” He slipped outside and closed the slider with his elbow, minding the drinks in his hands.

Roxy was sitting on the love seat that faced the yard. She seemed pensive. A mood he well understood.

He took the chair next to the love seat, handing her the glass of sangria as he sat. “This is my mother’s version. Fair warning, she spikes it with more brandy than is actually called for.”

“Good to know.” Roxy just stared at the glass but didn’t drink. “I don’t know where to start.”

He sipped his beer, then nodded. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to find out that everything you’ve ever thought was make-believe is suddenly real.”

She stared out at the yard. “It’s overwhelming. And a little scary. And it makes me feel like…a fool.”

He jerked back. “How so?”

She laughed sadly. “I don’t know if I can really put it into words. It’s sort of like I’ve been caught imitating something I have no right imitating. What do I really know about the supernatural world? Nothing. Nothing beyond what I’ve made up in my books. And who knows how much of that is completely wrong or utterly ridiculous or if the supernatural creatures of the world think I’m making fun of them or—”

“I don’t think you should feel that way at all. My mother and her friends love your books. So do half the women in this town. I don’t think that would be true if you were writing stories that didn’t do…our kind justice. From what I read, you did a great job with the supernatural stuff.”

She smiled a little, like she’d forgotten he’d read one of her books. “Are all your mother’s friends panther shifters too?”

“No. Two of them are witches, one’s a nymph and Mrs. Irving is a ghost.”

Roxy turned her head to blink at him, open-mouthed. She stayed that way for a few long seconds. “I have no idea if you’re joking or not.”

“In light of recent events, I don’t think joking about any of this is a good idea. At least not for a while.”

She took an extended sip of her sangria, then held her glass in her lap and took a deep breath. “So ghosts are real. Are there ghosts in this town too?”

“We have a few.”

“What else? How many vampires?”

“A good number. I don’t know for sure. That’s something you should probably talk to Delaney about.”

Roxy put her hand to her forehead and sighed. “I really need to talk to her. In fact, I should text her right now. See if we can get together tomorrow, maybe, if she’s free.”

“That’s a great idea.” He waited a moment while she put her wine on the small center table, then pulled her phone from her pocket. “This is all going to be okay, you know.”