Lucas laughed them off. “Not much to tell,” he said. “Midwest kid. Nothing exotic.” But Kiara didn’t laugh. She simply nodded, eyes flicking from his face to the back of his neck, like she was trying to peel something back and see beneath it.
The next morning, Lucas caught her in his guest room. She claimed she was bringing fresh towels, but she was standing by his open duffel, her hand inches from his hairbrush. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Oh—I was just—” she stammered. Lucas said nothing. Just closed the door.