“Good. Because Jada and Asia miss their Aunty Robbie, and I … well, I just miss my friend.”

“I’m here,” I promised.

She smiled and then true to Jaz form, forgave by continuing on, “Did I tell you I’m up for promotion? Deputy managing editor for local news.”

Jaz worked at the Boston Sun. She’d worked her way up to assistant managing editor of Projects, and now this. It didn’t surprise me. “One day, editor in chief,” I predicted.

She nodded. “Baby, you know it.”

“I don’t know how you do it—juggle the kids, Autry, the house, and a career.”

“Not easily,” she assured me. “Some things fall by the wayside, but I have to be an example to my girls of what is possible. Even if I only sleep three hours a night.”

“I hope you’re kidding and that you’re sleeping more than that.”

Jaz shrugged. “Gotta do what you gotta do, right? Tell me more about this club. You said in your texts that you’re hanging out with Lucy Wainwright. That was a joke, right?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of a car kicking up gravel next to the trailer stopped me. “Wait a sec, Jaz.” I pushed up off the floral couch she hated so much that turned into a guest bed and peered out the tiny kitchen window. The sight of a black Range Rover furrowed my brows. Lucy had left this morning after our run on the beach—

Lachlan Adair got out of the driver’s side, scowling at the trailer.

“What on earth?” I muttered.

“What is it?”

I stared, dazed at my phone. “Jaz, I have to go. Someone is here.”

“Yeah, okay. I better enjoy the Saturday quiet before the babies wake up.”

“You do that. We’ll talk soon.” I hung up, irritated that I’d been forced to end our conversation.

What was Adair doing here?

A hard knock rattled the trailer door and I spun around, making sure I didn’t have underwear or anything embarrassing lying around. Running my hands through my hair, I checked my body. It had been raining all week, adding to my depression, but the sun came out today, so I’d switched out my damp yoga pants and T-shirt from my run this morning for a fresh pair.

“Penhaligon, open up!” Adair yelled.

I yanked open the door. “What are—hey!” I cried out in annoyance as Lachlan pushed past me into the trailer. His huge form dwarfed the small living space, and he had to hunch his shoulders to stand up. He glanced around, eyes catching on my evidence board, before coming to rest on me.

Crossing my arms, I glared. “Come on in, why don’tcha.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “Where the hell have you been?”

My spine tensed at his tone. “Wherever the hell I’ve wanted to be.”

“Mac is recovering from knife wounds, and he hasn’t seen you in a week.”

The censure in his voice ignited that now-familiar anger where he was concerned. “Point?”

Adair’s azure eyes flashed with emotion that mirrored my own. “My point is, go see your father.”

Well, shit!

After my talk with Autry and Jaz, I had every intention of sucking it up and going to see Mac. But now it was going to look like I was only doing it because of this fiend!

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I seethed.

“Mac is my business,” he growled, leaning into me.

Heat flushed the back of my neck. “Mac and me, however, is our business. Not yours. Does he know you’re here?”

“No. But he does know Stone tried to assault you this week, he’s restless as fuck, and he’s worried about his daughter.”

Dismay filled me. “Why would you tell him about Stone?”

“Because you’re his daughter and he deserved to know.”

“You are an interfering bell-end, do you know that?” Lucy had taught me British insults she’d learned from a fellow actor. Who better to practice them on than Lachlan?

His chest heaved as the air in the trailer turned thick and hot with his palpable anger. “Do you even know what that means?”

“I can guess.”

“It’s better than being an immature, selfish brat.”

His words hurt. But I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing it. “Says the overbearing, egotistical man-child who has been gunning to get rid of me since I showed up. Now you’re here, trying to bully me into visiting Mac. What is it you want, Adair? Me gone, or me here … because your mixed signals are giving me a non-vehicular version of road rage!” I rarely yelled, even when I was mad, and he was making me yell! “I had every intention of going to see Mac on my time. Not yours! Mine! You can’t manage me like you manage—”

Adair’s mouth crushing down on mine abruptly cut me off.

I made a noise of shock in the back of my throat as I tried to process what was happening.

Strong, firm lips pressed to mine.