Camry spit her mouthful of beer all over the gift, the table, and Luke. “Oh God, don’t tell me you believe in the magic!” she cried, her horrified gaze locked on his.

Luke wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “What in hell are you talking about? I was kidding, Camry. Fiona—if that’s even her real name—obviously found out you had a niece named Fiona Gregor, and decided to mess with your head. She’s a teenager; it’s her job to drive adults crazy. Believe in the magic,” he muttered. “What is it with you MacKeages, anyway? I don’t believe in magic, serendipitous coincidences, mother’s intuition, or miracles. I’m a scientist, and I only believe in what I can back up with cold, hard facts.”

Camry absently toyed with the ribbon on the gift as she watched him out the corner of her eye. “So you don’t believe it’s astronomically impossible that my mother’s satellite crashed near her home, or that you arrived at Gù Brath at about the same time Fiona was mailing her card to my parents? And it doesn’t seem like a strange coincidence to you that you ran into me within minutes of arriving in Go Back Cove? Or that we ended up in bed together your very first night here, or—”

He held his hand up to stop her. “The odds of all those things happening are huge, I’ll admit, but not impossible.”

“Okay. Then how about calculating the odds of Podly’s crashing into Springy Mountain at the exact time of the summer solstice? Which also happens to be the exact moment—right down to the second, I feel compelled to point out—that Fiona Gregor was born.”

He frowned. “That’s pushing things a bit much, I think.”

She slipped the ribbon off the box, carefully unwrapped the gift, then lifted the cardboard lid just enough to look inside. At first she frowned, then her eyes suddenly widened. She looked up at Luke, spun the box around, and pushed it across the table. “Okay, then explain that to me using cold, hard facts.”

Luke lifted the flap on the box and also frowned, not quite sure what he was looking at. But then his eyes widened just as Camry’s had. He reached in and, as carefully as if he were handling the Holy Grail, he lifted out the slightly charred, fist-sized instrument . . . that actually had the words STARSHIP SPACELINE etched in tiny letters on its side.

“Come on,” Camry said smugly, “explain what that piece of Podly is doing in my kitchen, or how a five-month-old teenager got her hands on it in the first place, when it should be buried under three feet of snow somewhere on Springy Mountain.”

His hands trembling because he was afraid to drop it, Luke carefully set what appeared to be the satellite’s transmitter down on the table. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

“I’m sorry, Luke, I wish I could,” she said just as softly. She reached over and picked up the transmitter, which caused him to flinch. She chuckled. “It’s already survived a rather long fall,” she drawled. “I think it can survive my handling.”

She turned it over to study it, and the tiny instrument suddenly chirped.

Camry threw it down as they both jumped in surprise.

The transmitter rolled off the table, and Luke made a lunge for it at the same time she did. But they fell into each other trying to catch it, and the precious instrument clattered to the floor. It rolled across the linoleum, smacked up against the stove, and softly chirped.

Sprawled on their bellies, they both stared at it, utterly speechless.

The damn thing chirped again.

“It’s still functioning?” Luke whispered. He looked at her. “Do you suppose there’s . . . could more of the satellite have survived, do you think?”

She didn’t respond right away, apparently unable to tear her gaze from the transmitter. She finally looked at him, her eyes shining intensely—quite like they did when she was about to rip off his clothes. “I think we’re going to have to go to Springy Mountain to answer that question.”

“Excuse me?” he whispered, not daring to hope—but hoping anyway.

She straightened to her knees, grabbed their bottles of beer off the table, and handed one to Luke once he sat up to lean against the cupboards. She settled down on the floor beside him and took a long chug of her beer—swallowing this time—then suddenly grinned. “The way I see it, we have three choices. We can break into my family’s ski-resort maintenance garage and steal one of the snowcats; we can steal some horses from my cousin Robbie; or we can snowshoe the forty miles to Springy Mountain. Your choice, Dr. Renoir.”

She was going home!

And she was taking him with her!

“I have a fourth choice,” he carefully offered, not wanting to dampen her spirit—or get himself thrown off her team. “You can go home and tell your parents how much you love them, then ask them if we could borrow a snowcat. I’m sure they’ll be so happy to see you, they will gladly lend us one.”

She glared at him.

“What?” he asked, his hopes waning.

“I thought you said you’d do anything to help me.”

“I will. I am.” He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if his lower brain wasn’t going to be the death of him. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure you and I have both deceived your parents quite enough already. Stealing from them is more or less adding insult to injury, don’t you think?”

“Okay then, we’ll steal from Robbie,” she said, rolling onto her hands and knees and crawling toward the transmitter. “Riding horses into Springy will be colder, but it beats the hell out of snowshoeing.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her, then urged her to turn to face him. “Camry, you’re going to have to deal with your parents eventually.”

“I will, just as soon as we find Podly.”

He tightened his grip. “You think you can’t go home unless you’re bearing gifts?” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Take it from a world-class ass of a son and stepson—parents don’t want anything from their children but love. And the lesson it took me six stubborn years to learn is that loving them means trusting them.”

She blinked at him, then suddenly threw herself at his chest, knocking him back against the cupboards. Luke quickly set down his beer to wrap his arms around her just as she buried her face in his shirt.

He cupped her head to his chest. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“They’re never going to forgive me.”

“Of course they will. They already have.” He lifted her chin. “They’re just waiting for you to forgive yourself.”

“But you don’t understand,” she whispered, burying her face again.

“Then explain it to me,” he petitioned, holding her tightly against him.

She quietly sighed, saying nothing.

Luke contented himself with just holding her as he stared at the tiny transmitter sitting next to the stove . . . and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to add stealing a snowcat to his growing list of crimes.

Chapter Ten

It had taken Luke less than twenty minutes to throw his belongings in his suitcase, so he’d spent the rest of the afternoon studying Podly’s transmitter—which for some reason had stopped chirping. Camry had stayed in her bedroom, supposedly packing, but Luke suspected she’d taken a nap. It was early evening, and they were sitting across the table from each other, eating the only thing he knew how to cook: scrambled eggs and toast.

Or rather, Camry was eating. He was getting one hell of a lesson on letting his lower brain call the shots. “What do you mean, I have to go stay at the hotel?” he repeated. “I thought we were leaving for Pine Creek in the morning?”