A late-night jogger. A couple walking their dog.
For a moment, Crystal Cove feels like home.Ourhome.
I let my gaze drift to Knox, watching him in the sweep of passing light, committing the sharp, perfect lines of his face to memory.
As we turn onto our street, he slows, brows pinching. “Whose car is that?”
My eyes follow his, landing on a silver sedan parked in Ms. Palmer’s driveway.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “And I definitely didn’t leave any lights on when we left.”
Knox eases into his driveway and cuts the engine, the moment suddenly still.
We both stare at Ms. Palmer’s house, its windows glowing like a welcome—or a warning.
“When is Millie—Ms. Palmer—supposed to come back?” he asks, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.
“End of August. Or at least that’s how long I’m supposed to be house-sitting.”
“She can’t be back already,” he says, brows drawing together. “Can she?”
I shake my head, throat suddenly too tight to answer.
“Come on. Let’s check it out.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Burglars don’t turn lights on.”
Fingers tightening around his, I glance toward the kitten carrier in the backseat, two tiny shapes curled in sleep, safe and unaware.
Knox follows my gaze. “They’ll be out for at least a couple of hours.”
I nod once. “Okay.”
Gravel crunches beneath our steps as we cross the driveway, the night air thick with jasmine and sea salt.
My pulse quickens with each step, uncertainty prickling across my skin like static.
A burst of laughter, high-pitched and playful, drifts from the house as we reach the porch steps.
“Doesn’t sound like burglars.” Knox winks.
“No,” I whisper. “Must be pirates.”
We climb the porch steps slowly, each creak of wood echoing louder than the last. Before we reach the door, it swings open with a cheerful groan.
A woman steps out, tanned, silver hair twisted into a loose knot, a wineglass dangling from her fingers.
Her eyes land on me first, warm and curious.
“You must be Paxton,” she says with a smile. “I’m Millie Palmer.”
“Oh—hi! I’m actually Cami. I–I was stepping in for my friend Paxton?I’vebeen watching your house while you were away. Just got back from Art in the Park.”
Her brows lift. “Well, no wonder we couldn’t find you when we got here. Been wandering around thinking you’d vanished.”
Her gaze shifts. Then softens. “Knox?”
He straightens. “Hello, Millie. It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” she says, clearly pleased. “You and that jawline are still as handsome as ever, I see.”
