Before you could even decide if you wanted to answer, he launched into a rambling complaint about his generators frying out during the storm, his hands moving as he talked.

Topper grabbed for Rafe's arm but caught air. Rafe stalked up the path with his jaw locked, golf club dangling from one hand.

The smile didn't reach his eyes. He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, fingers digging in just enough to turn him around.

The boy practically jogged back toward his golfing buddies, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing around a sand trap.