One of Boone’s friends I recognize from The Devil's Brew, Axel, steps inside with a foil-covered casserole dish in his hands, snow dusting his jacket. He stops dead.
His eyes flick from Boone to me.
Then down.
Then back up again.
Paint streaks Boone’s forearm. Paint streaks my collarbone. My shirt is smudged with pastel blue and gold. Boone’s T-shirt has a smear of red across the chest like evidence.
We look like we lost a fight with a sexy Jackson Pollock.
“Oh,” Axel says slowly.
I feel my face go nuclear.
Boone clears his throat. “Ramirez.”
Axel’s mouth twitches. “Did I interrupt… something?”
“No,” I say too fast.
“Yes,” Boone says at the same time.
We glare at each other.
Axel raises a brow. “Cool. Love that energy.”
I scramble for dignity, wiping my hands on my already ruined jeans. “Hi, Axel. I—uh—Boone was helping with the wiring.”
“And the painting?” Axel asks dryly.
Boone shrugs. “Art inspection.”
Axel snorts. “Saxon sent me with Savannah’s casserole. Figured Boone was hiding in his cave.”
He looks around the bright studio, the windows, the canvases, the half-finished renovations. Then back at Boone.
“Guess not.”
Boone shifts, clearly torn between irritation and something like pride. “Didn’t hear you knock.”
“I did,” Axel says. “You were… busy.”
I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Axel sets the casserole on the counter, eyes dancing. “Savannah says hi. Also says if this turns into another firehouse scandal, she wants front-row seats.”
Boone groans. “Get out.”
Axel grins wider. “Just checking in. Renovation looks good. You look…” He gestures vaguely. “Colorful.”
“Out,” Boone repeats.
Axel lifts his hands in surrender. “I’ll leave you two… uh… artists to it.”
As he turns for the door, he glances back at me. “Nice to finally meet you properly, Ember.”
I nod, mortified. “Likewise.”
