Noah was back in the afternoon.

He was still dressed sharply, but his hair was tousled and his deep-blue shirt, which he wore underneath a gray coat, was stained with a few drops of dried blood. It took her one glance to know that he had been in a fight.

It felt as warm as spring in the bedroom.

Gwynn took his coat off for him and used her lean fingers to scratch the stains on his shirt. Raising her eyes, she looked at him. “Did you pick a fight with someone? Come on, Noah. You’re forty-one years old, for Heaven’s sake. Did you really take a flight to Hucksburgh just to beat someone up?”

He towered over her and stared at her profoundly.

After a brief moment, he hugged her and rubbed her shoulder with his chin, like a golden retriever acting cute with its mistress. “Yeah! I flew to Hucksburgh just to beat Charles to a pulp. Believe me when I tell you I took it easy on him. He’s lucky that I’ve had a better handle on my temper, or I would’ve poked his eyes out.”

She wasn’t sure