Page 76 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

I know how her body opens beneath patient touch, how her scent turns rich when she comes, and how quickly she reaches for humor afterward to keep tenderness from seeing too much. There is an ache beneath Scarlet’s sharp tongue, a grief pretending to be humor because softness is too dangerous. I want to teach her that softness doesn’t have to come at a cost.

Loose hair whips across her cheek as she looks toward the docks, her green eyes sharpening with a familiarity I don’t share. She belongs out here with the water, and wild green corridors missing from official maps. She stands in the sun like a woman this town can wound but never uproot.

My instincts want her close enough to touch, want me wrapped around her and her kept safe. But I keep my hands to myself because wild beauty isn’t meant to be caged.

A man steps out of the office wearing board shorts, a faded Crane Water Tours shirt, and the effortless grin of someone who has never been properly afraid of anything in his life. Blond curls fall across his forehead. His skin is sun-browned, his expression is open, and his attention moves straight to Scarlet.

“Scarlet Sage,” he says, delighted. “Alive, armed with a badass attitude, and finally accepting my superior transportation services.”

Scarlet folds her arms. “Ollie Crane.”

“That sounded almost fond.”

“It wasn’t.”

He presses a hand to his chest. “Devastating.” Ollie looks at me. “You must be the scary investigator.”

“I’m the one paying attention.”

“Nice. The swamp punishes daydreamers.”

Scarlet gestures toward him. “He owns the boats. Don’t encourage his personality.”

Ollie’s grin widens. “Too late. I came preassembled.”

I don’t need to like him to use his boat. I also don’t need to turn a local man’s harmless attention into a territorial performance Scarlet wouldn’t stand for. That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy his face.

He leads us toward the larger airboat, boots thudding against the sun-warmed boards. “Pepper said east marsh in the old flood channel, looking for possible contamination. She also said if I flirted too much, you’d throw me overboard.”

“She was being generous,” Scarlet says.

I step onto the boat first and offer her my hand.

She places her palm in mine. Warm skin slides against my grip, and her honeyed-sage scent rises through the gasoline and muddy water. My alpha settles the instant I close my hand around hers.

Scarlet steps aboard but doesn’t release me.

Ollie clears his throat from the pilot seat. “I provide life jackets, but apparently hand-holding is also available.”

Scarlet looks at him. “Start the boat, Crane.”

“Bossy looks good on you.”

She squeezes my hand before letting go.

The engine coughs, roars, and settles into a vibrating growl that travels up through the deck and into my legs.

Scarlet sits beside me on the narrow bench, close enough that her skirt brushes my thigh when the boat pulls away from the dock.

Water sprays over the bow as we leave Crane’s weathered dock behind. The shell-road businesses disappear first, then the last edges of town, giving way to black-water channels, tangled roots, and sunlight broken into gold pieces across the surface. The air changes out here. It’s full of things that have been growing without permission for a long time.

Scarlet leans forward. “Take the left cut after the leaning cypress.”

Ollie tilts his head. “That route’s shallow.”

“Not after last night’s storm.”

He glances back. “You been sneaking out here without me?”