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“Are you kidding? His writing is incredible! I love that he doesn’t give a damn who he pisses off. He wrote that exposé on foreign election interference last year… wow. The man is insanely brave.”

“He has zero self-preservation.”

“Of course he doesn’t. He’s Australian, and those legends don’t need weak things like self-preservation.”

Knox arches an eyebrow. “And how does being Australian make him a legend?”

“Ahh, have you ever watched National Geographic? Their spiders are the size of a toddler, and nine out of ten of the deadliest things on Earth live in Australia. Anyone who survives that environment is a legend by default; therefore, all Australians are legends.”

“I’ve survived worse,” Knox says, looking at me expectantly.

No way…

Is Knox waiting for me to praise him?

“Then you’re an epic legend,” I smile, shaking my head at how ridiculously cute he’s been acting lately. “Though, to be fair, I feel like anyone connected to the Harknetts has a baseline lack of self-preservation.”

“True that.”

I step closer to his easel to inspect his progress, and the second I see what he’s painted, I burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe, clutching my stomach as tears prick my eyes. “Knox… what is that?”

“It’s a canoe on a mountain lake!”

“It looks like a drowning sausage!” I wheeze, pointing at the bloated, reddish-brown smear floating in the middle of a blue blob.

“You said no one can ruin art.”

“I was wrong! Apparently, you can destroy art. Oh, man… this is hilarious—aahhh!” I gasp as Knox lunges forward, scooping me up and throwing me over his broad shoulder. “Wait! Where are you taking me?!”

“To throw you in the lake.”

“The lake is five minutes away!” I wiggle, but my body barely moves against his grip.

“Then you have five minutes to escape or change my mind,” he laughs.

And spoiler alert… I failed.

— ¤ —

I’m lying on the living room couch with an open book in my hands, but I haven’t read a single line.

It’s been nearly thirty minutes since we walked back from the lake, and I could’ve sworn everything was perfect.

It was perfect… right up until we set foot inside the cabin.

The second we got through the door, Knox walked into the guest bedroom, closed the door, and hasn’t come out since.

Now I’m in full panic mode.

Did I cross a line?

Is he putting his walls back up?

What the hell shifted?

I reexamine every detail from the afternoon… how he threw me into the water only to dive in right after me, the amazing kisses, the constant touching, how he opened up and talked about his time in Delta Force… his laughter.