Josh kept the beard. He even trimmed it. He also showered every day and allowed the staff to clean up the casita. And whenever he sat on his deck like he did then, he took care not to end up with funny tan lines on his legs.

Just under 450 square feet, it was small but the right size for a single guy like him. The groundskeeper used to live here before his mother inherited the property, and Josh fixed it up when he began building the stone labyrinth. It was his way to calm himself after working undercover for days on end, barely sleeping and always on edge. Besides, he didn't want to occupy any of the inn's rooms, not when they could make more money having it available for guests.

Josh made his way back into the house. He'd been performing his leg strengthening exercises for the past hour on the deck and now he needed a beer. But as he opened the refrigerator door, he discovered that he had run out and he grabbed a bottle of spring water instead. Probably best, since he'd been out in the sun all that time. He took a sip and surveyed his casita, marveling at the good job the staff did in tidying everything up. It was actually presentable. Even the kitchen counter was spotless.

Though it was small, it was perfect for a man who barely cooked, and it had everything one needed to prepare a decent meal for two. If Olivia ever showed up now, there'd be no sign that just a few days ago, it was a mess. But what did one expect from a bachelor pad?

The bedroom was spacious enough with its king-sized bed and bedside tables, even a small balcony overlooking the ravine below. The bathroom was in the bedroom, and it had a stain glass window that overlooked the valley. He often wondered if he'd manage to flash anyone whenever he got in and out of the oversized claw-foot tub. Not that he cared. Let them stare, he thought. All he wanted was for his body to stop hurting, his knee to stop playing barometer whenever it felt like it, or his heart to stop racing at the sound of a twig snapping outside. That's why he'd sit in the tub, letting the water warm up his joints and calm his mind. He could easily go over to the inn and sit in the jacuzzi, but he hated being around people these days.

Sometimes, he'd head to the side of the house and take a shower outdoors, especially on hot days. He didn't care if any of the inn guests saw him naked either. Even after the shooting, he'd never let himself go. Though he no longer worked out as much as he did, he still watched what he ate – or the staff at the inn did for they delivered his meals whether he wanted them to or not – and did all the exercises he was supposed to do. The effects of his depression hadn't extended to letting his health go. Maybe his hygiene, but not his health.

Located at the back of the main house and away from the rest of the casitas that they rented out, Casa Joshua gave him the privacy he needed. It allowed him to be a hermit, though that was impossible now that Erik was sending his sister over.

The thought of what happened when Olivia last came to visit him made Josh anxious. He walked back out to the deck and sat down, resting his injured leg on a padded stool. Man, he'd gotten old overnight, he thought as he rubbed his leg. He could feel the knots around the length of the scar on the inside of his thigh though he could never allow himself to touch it. It gave him the shivers to feel it, even if the surgeon did an excellent job in cleaning up the bullet wound, fix what needed to be fixed, and save his leg. After almost a week spent in a coma, he had awoken to learn that he could have lost his leg, but it could have been worse. That bullet could have taken out his dick.

The sound of leaves crunching underfoot suddenly made him stiffen and he reached for his hip, an automatic reaction that made him laugh out loud as his father stepped through the little gate. His parents preferred no firearms on site, and he couldn't blame them. But once a cop, always a cop.

"Welcome to Casa Joshua," Josh said, gesturing to a chair. "What can I do you for, dad?"

"Good! You're up," Craig Morin said as he pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. "Thanks for fixing up the busted pipe yesterday. Saved us a few hundred dollars in repairs."

Josh shrugged. "It's the least I could do to help out around here."

"You've always helped out, Josh. You were just a lot more easygoing then, not a grouch like you are now," Craig said. "Oh, and we're going to need help in case your mom has to do more treatments down in L.A."

"When do you think?"

"The next one in a week or so," Craig replied. "That means you'll need to be working the front office for a bit until we get back."

"I'll do it, no problem. But you know I hate it when people stare at me, especially when they recognize that I'm the detective they heard about in the news."

"So what? They don't mean any harm. All they care about is getting away from wherever they come from and us taking care of them. Who cares what they think?"

Josh scowled. He hated it whenever his father was right.

"Actually I'm here to invite you to lunch," Craig said, heading back to the gate. "Your mom's up there with Livvy right now."

Josh sat up. "She's here?"

"Yup. She's joining us for lunch," Craig said, pushing open the gate and hearing it creak. "She and your mom have been enjoying some stories about you and those sugar cookies she used to make in her Easy-Bake oven. About how you were the only one who loved them."

"They were button cookies. Did she just get here?" He was glad that his casita was as clean as a whistle. She'd never let him hear the end of it if it was the pig sty it had been a few days ago. Damn, he thought. He sounded like he was scared of a tiny woman.

"She got in last night," Craig replied.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know we were supposed to," Craig said, his eyes twinkling. "But since you're busy, I'll tell them we'll catch you another time. See you later!"

"Wait!" Josh pulled himself up from the chair and grabbed his cane.

"So you're coming? Good!" Craig laughed. "Do you need to pretty yourself up or what?"

"Shut up, Dad." Josh brushed his hair back with his fingers. He looked down at his clothes. They were presentable enough, he thought, remembering Erik's words about needing to clean up. Grateful Dead t-shirt over cargo shorts and flip flops. Typical Casa Joshua wear.

"Oh, you look pretty enough. C'mon, before lunch gets cold."

"Did she say why she's here?" Josh asked, staring at his cane and debating if he wanted her to see him with it.

"She and Julie came here for a few nights. Girls' weekend. Massages, jacuzzis, hikes and everything," Craig replied, a curious expression on his face. "Why? Is she supposed to be here for something else... or someone?"

"No, she can come here anytime she wants."

Craig studied him for a few minutes. "That's good to know. But you know what? Maybe you should just tell her."

"If you mean my apology, yes, I aim to do that today." He'd faced worse things than a fiery redhead. He wasn't afraid of Olivia. No, sir.

"No, not your apology, son," Craig said, chuckling. "You should just ask her out and be done with it. Heck, kiss her! No point in dragging out what everyone else already knows much longer than necessary."