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Caine would set a ridiculous price that Noah would have to fight over. Eventually, they’d come to a workable solution.
    He should have just gone to Caine in the first place. Noah had to be honest, though. He tried to avoid Caine, all because of episodes like last night. The man had a way of seeing right through you. That, combined with how disagreeable the man could be, made him frustrating to work with.
    But he’d get the job done. At this point, that was all Noah cared about.
    Hearing the creak of wood behind him, he glanced up.
    Trinity stood in the doorway, looking sleek and sexy in a pair of denim capris and black tank top. Noah tried not to focus on those endless legs as she lifted a hand to the doorway, looking around distractedly. Her gaze finally landed on him and she asked, “Micah didn’t come in here, did he?”
    Frowning, Noah pushed back onto his heels and shook his head. “No.”
    She sighed and brushed her hair back. “He’s too quiet. He’s never this quiet.”
    Putting his tools down, Noah rose to his feet. “He knows to stay out of the areas that are being worked on, right?”
    “Yes. Those are the off-limits spots.” She worried her lower lip, and despite himself, he felt something warm and heavy shift inside him. He wanted to be the one taking that soft, full curve in his mouth. Judging by the way she’d looked at him earlier, she probably wouldn’t even mind. It was a knowledge he really didn’t need to have, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
    How would she feel? How would she taste?
    Focus, Noah. Focus.
    “Of course, with Micah, that just means I have to watch him twice as closely,” she said, a grimace twisting her face. “But he’s not in any of the rooms that are being worked on right now. I already checked … oh, no.”
    She spun around.
    Noah was already behind her.
    “He wouldn’t go into the pantry, would he?” Noah asked, all thoughts of tasting her dying as fear started to work a cold, nasty thread through his heart. “You told him to stay out of there, right?”
    “Only at least two or three times a day,” she said. “I’ve got the bench in front of it. The lock’s busted, or I’d just lock—oh, no.” She paused in the doorway to the kitchen and then lunged forward. Two seconds later, Noah saw why and he tried to grab her, but she was already halfway across the floor.
    The bench had been pulled away from the pantry door and it was partially open.
    *   *   *
    Terror slammed into her as she closed her hand around the doorknob. Then her heart jumped into her throat as she saw Micah under one of the low-lying shelves, studiously coloring in one of his workbooks. The single bare bulb overhead cast a dim, urine-colored light across the room.
    Darting a glance to the sagging area in the middle of the floor, Trinity gingerly edged inside. The boards groaned ominously.
    “Micah, don’t you remember what I said about coming in here?” she asked when he lifted his head, staring at her wide-eyed and startled.
    “Um.”
    “Don’t um me, big guy,” she snapped. Keeping to the very edge of the floor, she knelt down by him and held out a hand. “You need to get out of here. It’s not safe until Mr. Noah gets the floor fixed. That’s why we keep the bench in front of the door.”
    How had he moved it? Was he part ox?
    “But I like it in here,” Micah whispered.
    “It doesn’t matter. It’s not safe.” She waited until he rolled out from under the shelf and stood up, putting his smaller hand into hers.
    “Stay off the middle of that floor, Trinity.”
    Looking up, she saw the grim look on Noah’s face, and she darted a look toward the space, nodding. Oh, she’d definitely stay out of the middle; he didn’t have to worry about that. Not at all. “We will. Micah, walk along the wall and take Mr. Noah’s hand, okay?”
    She waited there until Micah had done that, and the relief was almost painful once he was off that floor. He tugged his hand