“Are you”—she glances around and then whispers, “writing?”

I nod and gratefully accept the coffee she hands me. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You look like you’ve been here awhile.”

I check the time on my phone and am surprised to see it’s already early in the afternoon. “I guess I have. Time flies when the story is hot.”

Jill laughs. “And your stories are hot.”

“Thank you.” I blush as I take a sip of my coffee, still surprised that I confided in Jill and Cara last week. “What are you up to?”

“I have a few hours between house showings, so I thought I’d pop in for some coffee. Just tell me if I’m interrupting.”

“You’re fine. I really needed a break. I got quite a lot done since I’ve been here.”

“Why are you here?” She sips her coffee.

“The construction crew is at my place repairing the pool house, and they’re noisy and distracting. I couldn’t concentrate.”

“But you can concentrate here?” Jill raises a brow and looks about the café at the waitresses clinking cups and working the loud espresso machine.

“I used to come here all the time to write when I was with Jack. I had to hide it from him, so this worked. The espresso machine is much better than hammering and buzz saws.”

Jill laughs and nods. “I can see that.”

“So we’re all going to the pumpkin patch tonight?”

“Yes! I’m excited. But don’t make me go through the haunted house. I’ll pee myself.”

“Oh, don’t be a wimp. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m happy with my wimp status. I don’t think Cara will go for it either.”

“What about the corn maze?” I ask.

“I have a horrible sense of direction, but I’m up for that.” Jill sips her coffee, finishing it, then leans back in her chair and watches me for a long moment. “So, you’re in love with my brother.”

“Huh?” Did she just say that?

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know that I’m in love with him.” I slowly shake my head back and forth.

“Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him.” I laugh, knowing that there is no way to win this conversation. “We’re still learning each other.”

“Ty’s a good guy.” Jill traces the sleeve on her coffee cup. “He’s had some tough breaks, but haven’t we all?”

“We have.”

“Have you seen him in the courtroom?”

“No.”

“Oh, girl, you should see him when he gets riled up. He’s all stern and hard and quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“Really?” I’m surprised. “He’s only ever been sweet and kind to me.”

“He’s ruthless in the courtroom. People don’t fuck with him there.”

This is a new side to Ty that I don’t yet know. He’s always so gentle, loving even, with me. But at some moments he’s been pretty controlling and take-charge, so it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s a hard-ass in his job.

“I’ll have to check it out sometime.”

“I think you’d enjoy it,” Jill agrees.

“You two look a lot alike.” I blush when I realize I’ve said it aloud. But it’s true: they both have black hair, blue-gray eyes, and olive skin. Their biggest difference is their height. Ty is tall and broad, while Jill is petite.

“We look like our mom,” she responds softly.

“Does she enjoy Florida?”

“I think so. We don’t talk often.”

“Ty told me about your dad. I’m sorry, Jill. I had no idea.”

Jill’s wide eyes meet mine. “He did?”

I nod yes.

“Wow.”

“Why are you surprised?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Ty just doesn’t talk about him.” Her tone is soft, but matter-of-fact.

“Ever?”

She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed as though she’s deep in thought. “He trusts you.”

I blink rapidly. “I trust him too.”

A slow smile spreads across Jill’s pretty face. A smug, happy smile. “I hope so, because I have a feeling you’re gonna be stuck with him for a long time.” She checks her watch and then jumps up. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight!”

With that, she’s off, waving at the barista behind the counter on her way out.

He trusts me.

* * *

The drive home is quick. I wrote two chapters today, putting me back on track for my deadline. I’m excited to see Ty and the others in a few hours and spend some time at the pumpkin patch.

The vans and trucks that littered my driveway earlier have gone. I park and insert the key to unlock the door, but it’s already unlocked.

The door opens easily.

The alarm is also not set, but that doesn’t surprise me because I left it off for the workers.

But I know that I locked this door, and Dave nor any of his crew had no need to walk through the house.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something is just . . . off.

I set my purse and keys on the table by the door and walk inside the quiet house. From what I can see, nothing has been moved or touched, everything is as it was when I left this morning.