Navy Seal Promise. Amber Williams Leigh

in the coming weeks. For now, it was roped off until furnishings were set and décor had been given the final nod.

      The ropes hadn’t stopped Bea from sneaking in. Neither Briar nor Cole would’ve stopped her anyway. Her companion hadn’t thought twice about skirting the red velvet cordon or its Please Keep Out sign, either.

      The pair had set up a tea service on the black lacquered coffee table in the center of the room. Bea sat on one of the pristine new sofa cushions. She wore a plastic tiara. She held her teacup in one hand, pinkie out for good measure, and a magic wand in the other. As Harmony watched from the doorway, her daughter slurped the remains of her imaginary tea and set it down. “Bibbity bobbity boo!” she chirped, tapping the wand on the end of the cup. As she picked it up again, she addressed her companion. “Would you care for more tea, dear prince?”

      “Sure thing, princess.” Kyle held out his teacup. In his hands, it looked like something Alice might drink from at the bottom of the rabbit hole. Through his two-fingered hold, there was a teensy, visible fault line along its rounded edge, likely from his handling.

      Bea repeated the incantation, flicking her wand over the rim. “Here are your magic sprinkles,” she chimed, picking up a glitter-filled salt shaker her Mammy had loaned her. She tipped it over Kyle’s cup.

      “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Kyle said. He tapped his cup lightly against hers and the two drank, Bea slurping again. “Ah,” Kyle said with a nod. “That’s the stuff.”

      “Unicorn biscuit?” she asked, offering him a pink plastic crumpet on a plate. “I had Gar-song make them special.”

      Harmony hid a snort of laughter behind her hand. Under the shaded brim of his battered cap, Kyle’s gaze lifted over Bea’s waxen hair and zeroed in on Harmony’s hiding place. The amusement that had woven warm filaments around his eyes and mouth staggered. His smile tapered slightly. The glitch bothered her, but the frisson of worry it brought was singed away by the zing of intensity he threw at her.

      “My compliments to the chef,” he said instead of giving her away. “It’s been a while since I had a decent unicorn biscuit.”

      “Unicorns don’t like when Gar-song gives their biscuits to strangers,” Bea expounded, nibbling a purple crumpet.

      “I imagine not.”

      “They poke him,” Bea divulged. She emitted a conspiratorial giggle. “Right in the—”

      The words ended on a shriek as Harmony’s arms wrapped around Bea’s middle and she turned the point of her nose into the sensitive place beneath her daughter’s jaw. The shriek merged into laughter, sweet clangors of it. “Right in the what?” Harmony asked.

      “Nothing!” Bea claimed.

      “Ah, now I’ll never know,” Kyle groaned, setting his teacup down with a clack.

      Harmony hugged Bea, tugging her on to her lap. She noticed the lace-trimmed handkerchief with the Hanna’s Inn crest Kyle had unfolded over one muscled thigh in lieu of a napkin. He was sitting cross-legged with knees raised several inches, thanks to the confines of the sofa at his back. As a result, his jeans, worn soft but still a good shade of blue like his eyes, stretched taut underneath the hem of his gray T-shirt. Harmony cleared her throat, making some effort not to stare at his inseam. She lowered her head to Bea’s again. “Did you tell Prince Charming about your new pet unicorn?”

      “Mmm-hmm,” Bea said with a pert nod. “We’re going riding together when the storm’s gone.”

      “Oh,” Harmony said. “Playdate for two.”

      “He said you could come, too,” Bea added almost as an afterthought after slurping from her teacup once more.

      Harmony darted a glance over the table. Kyle’s bronze arms, the pronounced black-inked SEAL trident tattooed on his bicep peeking out from underneath his left sleeve, rested on his knees. His hands were linked. Watching. Demurring again from his laser focus, she still couldn’t miss the introspection that muffled the relaxed affection she was so used to seeing. He hadn’t moved but an inch or two since he saw her standing at the door. Yet she sensed that nothing about him was relaxed anymore. Even with the ottoman between them, she could feel the strains of tension. The type a watchful panther might coil inside itself while waiting for its prey.

      She didn’t feel like the hunted. Her heart palpitated, out of sync. The frown. The wariness. It was almost as if he saw the hunter in her. She was the threat.

      She didn’t like that one bit.

      “Ooo, I forgot,” Bea chirped. She reached into the picnic basket, rooting around. “The rainbow cake!”

      It was a loaf of apple bread wrapped in cellophane. Several slices were gone from it so the pattern on the inside could be seen: rainbow swirls. It was Briar’s work, today’s special treat for the granddaughter she so loved to indulge. Before Bea could even think about cutting it, Harmony took the plastic knife from her hand. She unwrapped the cellophane on the tray so no crumbs would scatter on the coffee table.