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“If you grab the dessert plates from the pantry, I’ll tell you all my secrets.” Jaz winks.

“A job from the godmother. I’m on it!” I salute.

I follow Jaz’s pointed finger down the hall. In another room, oldies play on the radio. Kids giggle like they’re up to no good. I make a note to check on them after I drop off the plates.

In the hall, I stop at a door illuminated from behind. I poke my head inside to confirm it’s the pantry but find Gio. He’s rifling through shelves and only glances my way when the floorboards creak beneath my shifting weight as I step inside.

“You coming to off me?” he asks.

“If I get it over with now, I can sleep better tonight,” I deadpan.

With crossed arms, I study the curious scene. Gio’s not on the hunt for just anything, though, he’s on a frantic mission. I tilt my head.

“Should I ask why you’re assaulting the dried goods?” I say with disinterest, even though I’m very interested. What in the world could make him this barbarous with a bag of butter beans?

“I’m looking for Tina’s coconut-cookie stash. They’re in here somewhere; I can smell them.” Gio tips a large tin forward, checks behind it, and then pops off the top. He sniffs inside, shakes his head, and closes it again.

I sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything. Do you have some kind of evil-person super-smelling power or something?”

He stops to consider and then asks, “Are you one of those people who’s never cried happy tears from eating something utterly perfect?”

“I’m an emotional eater. Does that count?” I ask.

“Everyone eats emotionally.” He waves me off, unimpressed.

“I’ve never tasted cry-worthy food.” I shake my head.

“For a heartless, unladylike person like yourself, maybe it’s impossible, but for a sentimental gentleman, it’s very possible.” He places his hand over his chest, suggesting he is the sentimental gentleman.

I point a finger in my mouth and pretend to gag.

He chuckles.

And I’m not heartless. I’m learning to lock down the heart I give to everyone else. I’m reeling in my heart gifts and creating boundaries I should have set long ago.

Outside the door, kids race past. The pantry door slams closed with a crash, making me jump. Then something even worse happens. It sounds suspiciously like a dead bolt sliding shut from the outside.

My eyes fly open wide. My horrified expression swings to Gio.

“Did they just . . .” The words die on my lips as I point at the door.

My greatest fear is playing out—being stuck anywhere with this man. It’s bad enough we’re on the same island, at the same hotel, and then the same backyard party.

Now this!? Why are the walls closing in around us? I tug at my neckline. It’s too tight on my skin.

Gio grips the door handle and shakes it, but it doesn’t budge. He chuckles nervously and faces me. He halfheartedly shoots me the whoopsie shrug, then says, “Kids.”

Stone-faced, I muscle past to bang on the door. “Let us out! We’re locked inside!”

I grab the handle with both hands and tug, but it doesn’t budge. I whine and smack the door.

Why did I leave my phone in the car?

Gio’s chuckle turns into a drawn-out sigh. Then he does the opposite of what he should. He lowers himself to the floor, legs stretched out like he’s settling in for the long haul.

“What are you doing?” I jeer. “Call Tina. Tell her to let us out.”

“Won’t work.” He resumes his cookie-finding expedition on the lower shelves.