“Nothing.”
“Noah.”
“You’re cute when you’re possessive.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Cute.”
“Not when you make decisions for me.”
“I didn’t.”
“No. You made a decision for the yard because he was an idiot.”
“Yes.”
“But the face was for me.”
Reid looked toward Caleb and Owen.
“Leave.”
They did not.
The third candidate saved him.
Marian Holt entered the workshop wearing dark pants, weatherproof boots, and a red wool coat. She was in her early fifties, with cropped brown hair and the calm gaze of someone who had spent decades dealing with difficult customers.
Before introducing herself, she looked at the charging unit on the near bench.
“Victron?”
Owen nodded.
“Older model.”
“Reliable until someone installs it where seawater can reach the ventilation slots.”
Owen smiled.
Reid stood.
“Marian Holt?”
“Yes.”
They shook hands.
She looked at me.
“Noah Bennett.”
“Yes.”
“I read the profile.”
My shoulders tensed.
