“Sawyer, don’t pick on Tristan like that.”

“He’s a big boy, Bec, and you don’t know what he’s like with women.”

Tristan’s good humor was fading fast. “And you’re so sure you know?” he asked Sawyer. “I thought you were a big believer in the innocent-’til-proven theory.”

“You haven’t been innocent since you were fifteen,” Sawyer replied dryly. “You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do no matter what anyone says. Just…remember where you are.”

Rebecca was making a face. “Sawyer’s a fine one to talk.” She stretched up and kissed Tristan’s cheek. “Maybe we’ll see you later,” she said calmly, then looked at her husband. “Ryan is going home with Eric for a while,” she said softly.

Despite his annoyance, Tris felt a smile tug at him as Sawyer cast his wife a long look, then smiled slowly as they walked away. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and started toward the small, still-congested lot. Most of the cars belonged to people who’d driven in from the outlying areas, since the town itself was small enough to walk pretty well anywhere.

But, as he approached his car, he realized that a van parked crookedly in the lot was responsible for the holdup. He shook his head faintly and cut between two pickups. He wanted to go by Hope’s place. Maybe he could talk her into going for a drive. They could invite Drew and his wife if it would put Hope more at ease. He knew she and Jolie were friends—

“Mr. Clay, is it true that you and Ms. Leoni are living together?”

He jerked around, gravel grinding under his boot and came face-to-face with a microphone and an enormous camera. “What the hell?” The microphone shoved closer and he pushed it away. “Get out of my face.”

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