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I stare at him.

He looks completely serious.

“You know, I'm beginning to understand where Anya gets the attitude.”

His expression softens almost imperceptibly when I say her name. “She wants to see you tomorrow.”

“I'd like that.”

The answer comes before I consider it. Strangely, I mean it. I like Anya. Far more than is sensible after one afternoon.

“She also wants you to come back to the house.”

I look at him. “For what?”

“She was unclear. Her plans appear extensive.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“She mentioned breakfast, showing you her room, introducing you to a horse, and something involving a television program I didn’t understand.”

I smile. “She has a horse?”

“Two.”

“Of course she has two.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. It just fits.”

“Fits what?”

I gesture vaguely toward him. “This.”

“That has clarified very little.”

“Your entire situation.”

He watches me for a moment. Then his expression changes. Not colder exactly. More purposeful.

I notice immediately. Here comes something.

“Elara, I would like to discuss another matter.”

I lean back against the pillow. “That sounds threateningly formal.”

“It’s not a threat.”

“Comforting that you felt the need to establish that.”

His gaze stays on mine. “I know that you are currently between jobs.”

I stare at him. A beat passes. Then another. “Kind of,” I say, scowling. “Although I personally prefer the phrase strategically underemployed because it sounds less like my life has fallen down a staircase.”

He says nothing.

My scowl deepens. “Wait. How do you know that?”