“Amelia Winters, you put that down right now,” I hissed.

“Put what down?” she asked, sounding so innocent I almost wanted to believe her despite the straw she held in her hand and the spitball she was carefully plugging into one end.

“What? Are you in second grade? This is a low point, even for you,” I said, exasperated. What was I supposed to do with a seventy-eight-year-old woman who thought spitballs were funny?

“You've vetoed everything I've come up with in the past week,” Amelia said, annoyed. She turned the straw in her fingers making sure the spitball filled the end, not leaving any gaps for air to escape.

“You know why I vetoed them,” I whispered. I didn't want Gage to hear our conversation since he'd been the reason I shot down Amelia's pranks. Remembering what he'd said the night we met, I refused to let her tape an airhorn to Aiden's desk chair. Ditto for attaching one to the back of the door. Random air horns going off in the house were the last thing Gage needed.

I'd also refused to sprinkle sprout seeds in Aiden's keyboard, on the grounds it would likely get me fired, and had said I absolutely would not put a square of bullion in Mrs. W’s shower head so she'd end up bathing in chicken soup. That was just mean. And gross.

“You're no fun,” Amelia said, lifting the straw.

“I know,” I said. I wasn't fun. I'd never been the fun type. If you wanted someone to help you with your homework or show up on time to get you at the airport, that was me. I was reliable and loyal, and honest, and I worked hard. But I'd never been particularly fun.

I wasn't sure I knew how to be fun. As that depressing thought drifted through my mind, Amelia put the straw to her mouth and blew. Her spitball struck directly between my eyes. Of course, Amelia would have excellent aim with spitballs.

The spitball fell to my lap where I retrieved it and dropped it on the coffee table. I didn't bother to pretend to be annoyed. I wasn't mad; I was resigned. Anyway, I adored Amelia, spitballs and all.

“If you apologize for that, I'll tear more pieces of paper for you. But only if you promise not to aim them at me.”

“Deal. And I'm sorry,” Amelia said, sounding genuinely contrite. I knew her too well.

“No you're not, but I appreciate the effort.”

I set aside my birdseed project and quickly tore a sheet of notepaper into a stack of one-inch squares. Handing them to Amelia, I scooted toward the other end of the couch, picking up my box of birdseed supplies and placing it between us.

When she got caught, I wanted plausible deniability.

Of all the things Amelia had proposed in the last week, spitballs were the most harmless. If I didn’t let her get this out of her system, she’d stop asking for my help, and then who knew what she’d get up to? I couldn’t forget the story I’d heard about a prank involving a candle, a set of curtains, and a fire in the living room.

I was just going to sit on the other side of the couch, work on my wedding project, and pretend I didn't see anything else in the room.

I had to stifle a giggle when a spitball hit Gage's shoulder, and he looked up, his gaze flicking around the room to spot whatever had interrupted his focus. Amelia was the picture of innocence, pretending to read a magazine, using the pages to hide her straw and squares of paper.

Watching her from the corner of my eye, I had to admire her methods. Amelia was sneaky. If I hadn’t already known what she was doing, I never would've noticed her hand going so often to her mouth and would've thought she was straightening her glasses, or tucking her hair behind her ear.

She was a master of deception, which was a little scary. But I already knew that. After six months she was still finding new places in her room to hide cookies.

A wet paper missile winged Gage's ear, and he looked up again, his eyes going from me to Amelia, then back to me. One dark brow lifted in question. I gave a quick shake of my head and forced my attention back to my lap and the bundle of birdseed I was tying closed.

I did my best to look innocent, but I already knew Gage didn't buy it. I was a terrible liar, and he'd been trained to read people.

Amelia waited a few minutes before her next attack, probably hoping Gage's attention would be drawn back into his work. She should have known better. Her next spitball was aimed right at his face, but it never reached its target.

So fast I thought I'd imagined it, Gage's hand whipped up and plucked the spitball from the air. Picking it out of his palm, he held it between his thumb and forefinger, examining it, before looking at Amelia and saying, “What are you eight? A spitball?”

“I think I should try that on Aiden,” Amelia said. “You two have no sense of humor.”

“And Aiden does?” Gage asked, incredulous. I had to agree with his question. I'd never seen any evidence Aiden had a sense of humor.

“Aiden has a magnificent sense of humor,” Amelia said, “and you know it. Besides, he lets me get away with anything.”

“Seventy-eight and still a brat,” Gage said, shaking his head.

“You know you love me,” Amelia said, smiling fondly at her great-nephew.

“I do,” Gage agreed, “but I'm trying to get some work done here.”

“If you want to work, use the office,” Amelia said. “The library is for relaxing.”

“The office is Aiden's. I can go work at my desk upstairs,” he offered.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Amelia asked.

Finally. I wanted to know, but I wasn't going to ask. Not only was it none of my business, asking Gage what he was doing might make Amelia wonder why I cared.

“I'm trying to get up to speed on the company,” he said. “I've been gone a long time. If I want to go back to work, I have a lot to learn.”

“Aiden's coming around then?” Amelia asked, sounding satisfied.

Gage's eyes darkened, and he shook his head. “No. Aiden's being an ass. Charlie agreed to help me.”

Amelia worried her lower lip in her teeth. “I'll talk to him. You children have lost too much to be at odds with each other, and he's held a grudge long enough.”

“No,” Gage interrupted. “We'll work it out in our own time. I don't want you to talk to him. That'll just make it worse.”

“Stubborn,” Amelia said. I agreed.

Aiden and Gage were both stubborn, though I had to admit I didn't really understand what was wrong between them in the first place. Not my business, I reminded myself.

Amelia spoke up again, “I won’t talk to Aiden if you put that work away for a little while and play cards with us.”

Gage closed his laptop. “Fine,” he said.

Amelia popped up from her spot on the couch, saying, “I'll go get us a snack tray.”

“We just had breakfast,” I protested. At least Mrs. W or Abel would make sure whatever was on the snack tray was allowed on Amelia's diet.

Gage arranged his papers, stacked them on the laptop and set his work on a table near the door. Turning around, he gave me a long look, his eyes scanning me from head to toe, bringing the blush back to my cheeks.

Amelia would be back any second. It was bad enough that there was something going on between Gage and myself. If Amelia found out—I didn’t want to think about it.

Gage crossed his arms over his chest and said laughingly, “Spitballs? You can't control her at all, can you?”

Relief speared through me. Eventually, we would have to face what had happened the night before, and two days before that in the kitchen. But not now. Not in the middle of the day when Amelia would come strolling through the door any second.

I shrugged. “It's not my job to control her,” I clarified. “My job is to keep her healthy and keep her company. And sometimes keeping her company involves spitballs. At least today, it did. Believe me, if you knew some of the ideas I managed to stop…” I shook my head.

Amelia strode in, interrupting me. “Sophie is no fun,” she said, sending me an affectionate smile to soften her criticism.

Gage raised one eyebrow at her. “Sophie is an angel for putting up with you,” he said.

“That's true,” Amelia agreed. “Aside from just being with my family again, Sophie has been the best part of moving home.”

My heart ached at her words. Amelia was a handful, no question, but I loved her. Knowing she felt the same way warmed my heart.

This was why I hadn't moved on to a job more suited to my skills. Amelia was the closest thing to family I'd had in a long time. I wanted to savor it for as long as it lasted. My heart brimming with affection, I watched as Amelia crossed the room and made herself comfortable in an armchair, neatly arranging things so Gage and I would have to sit together on the couch.

Affection turned to exasperation. At the twinkle in her light blue eyes as she observed Gage and I standing awkwardly beside the coffee table, I realized Amelia hadn’t missed a thing.

“I'll get the cards,” I said, resigned. I couldn’t make a fuss about sitting next to Gage or Amelia would call me on it. I retrieved a pack of cards from a drawer in one of the end tables and turned back to the couch to find Gage sitting almost in the middle. If we were going to play cards on the coffee table, I'd have to sit right next to him.

Both of them had expressions of innocence, which was enough to tell me that they were up to something. I had the unmistakable sense of being maneuvered by masters.

I still hadn't figured out what I wanted to do about Gage, so I resolved to ignore the situation for the rest of the day. That proved both easy and impossible.

Easy because Gage and Amelia made it so, picking a card game and dealing the cards, keeping everything lighthearted and friendly. We had fun until lunch, laughing and joking, and trying to catch Amelia cheating. Gage almost always spotted it.

I never did, mostly because I was impossibly distracted by Gage sitting beside me. Every time his hand grazed my arm, I had to fight a shiver. When he tangled his right foot with my left, I started in surprise, only to see the glint in his eye and realize that he was teasing me. I tried to pretend I was unaffected by his presence, but I don't think I pulled it off.

After lunch, Gage disappeared into his suite with his papers and laptop. It was still too cold and drizzly to go outside, so I drove Amelia to Phipps Plaza where we window shopped for a few hours. Well, I window shopped. Amelia actually bought things.

It would've been a completely normal day, if it hadn't been for the presence of Gage, woven through the hours like bright spots. The flash of his smile, a touch of the back of my hand. It was a little scary how much I wanted to see him, the way my heart jumped in my chest when his eyes met mine.

My protests to myself were growing weaker. Getting involved with Gage Winters was inappropriate and foolish.

Every time I looked in his eyes, I was less sure I cared. Something was happening between us, and I wanted to see where it would go.

Yet again, I fell asleep with relative ease and woke gasping for breath, tangled in my sheets, my heart racing as if I were being chased. Which I had been, in my dreams.

Lost in the dark and running from Anthony. That had never happened in real life. In real life, I'd been too scared to run. His anger was explosive when I did nothing to earn it. The few times I’d tried to leave him… I'd learned my lesson.

The thought of actually running in Anthony's presence brought a sense of dread. He's dead, I reminded myself. He's dead, and it was just another bad dream.

I got out of bed and straightened the covers, erasing the evidence of my troubled sleep. My hair had come loose from its braid, and I ran my fingers through it, thought about putting it back up, and then decided I needed tea more than anything.

The house was dark and silent when I left my room. No light flickered from the library fire. I was alone. I tried not to be disappointed. If Gage was in his room, it might mean he was sleeping, and that was good. I didn't want him to be up all night, even if it meant I'd be with him. Neither of us had gotten much rest the night before.

There was no reason to feel let down. We hadn't made any arrangement to meet. That was a step I wasn't ready to take.

My mind on Gage, and on a cup of tea, and whether I wanted a snack to go with the tea, I didn't see the shadow move in the hall between Aiden's office and the library until I was almost on top of it.

I turned in greeting, a smile curving my lips, only to see the shadowy figure stop short in shock. I barely had time to register that whoever it was, they were too short to be Gage or Aiden and not broad enough to be Abel.

The intruder lunged across the space separating us. I opened my mouth to scream, and everything went dark.