Lemmon Jessica - Shut Up and Kiss Me (Lost Boys #2) -

Shut Up and Kiss Me is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept Ebook Original Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Lemmon Excerpt from Max by Sawyer Bennett copyright © 2016 by Sawyer Bennett All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New Y ork. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. Ebook ISBN 9781101884713 Cover design: Diane Luger Cover photograph: Nina Buday/Shutterstock randomhousebooks.com v4.1 ep

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Dedication Acknowledgments By Jessica Lemmon About the Author Excerpt from Max

Prologue Cade When I woke up in the hospital room, fuzzy from pain meds and disoriented, you’d think the first thing on my mind would be my memory of the accident. The exploding glass and the sound of my car, Blue, crumpling around me. Eerie silence and the feeling of blood oozing down my face. You’d be wrong. My first thought was on the blonde hovering over me. Her big blue eyes, her full mouth, and the look of concern on her face. At first sight, Tasha Montgomery drowned out the pain cranking up inside me like too much bass on a speaker. I never wanted her to see me as weak, or some fragile being who needed taking care of. Hell, once upon a time I approached her with cocky confidence, hoping she’d say yes to my idiotic advances. Nothing like a knock on the head to bring your former stupidity into focus. Where once she’d avoided me because I was an asshole, now she doted because of the accident that had robbed me of my voice. I couldn’t say I liked this any better.

Chapter 1 Tasha I parked my BMW in the Wilson driveway, cutting the engine and sighing in resignation at the vision in front of me. The garage door was open and two tennis shoes poked out from beneath a pale blue vintage car. The shoes belonged to my “patient,” Caden Wilson. Cade, as he was known to his friends. I called him Cade too, though I’m not exactly sure he considered me his friend. I wasn’t sure what we were. I stepped out of my own vehicle, tugging down my short jean skirt as my sparkly flats hit the concrete driveway. The moment the snow had thawed, I was filled with gratitude that winter was over. Much as I love my boots, I’m a spring girl. New beginnings and fresh starts and all that. I debated for a second before leaning back into the driver’s side and grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat. Cade hated this pack because it represented the work he had to do to regain his speech. I was here to help. I had a job to do. If he didn’t see it that way, it wasn’t my problem. After his accident, I filled in as his physical therapist when he’d fired every other therapist who came his way. He hadn’t let me do much before and allowed me to do almost nothing now. His physical injuries were no longer an issue. Cade’s problem was with his tongue. I wasn’t a speech therapist, but Cade’s father didn’t care about titles. As long as Cade was willing to work with me, Paul Wilson wanted me around. Paul and I spent a lot of hours next to Cade’s hospital bed those first few days. I’d witnessed the accident that night, and every instinct told me that Cade needed a friend to wake up to. When most of his friends bailed, since street racing was illegal and an ambulance plus cops had been on the way, that left me as his only friend. Paul was grateful I stuck around. He’d been my father’s accountant for years, so I’d seen him around even before our rendezvous at the hospital. Mine and Cade’s past wasn’t peachy, but knowing he was hurting, I couldn’t walk away. So I didn’t. I was also pulling an internship over at Ridgeway Rehabilitation Institute. I’d been there a few months and I enjoyed it. I was good at it according to my instructor, and I was working with patients who didn’t hate me, so that was a plus. By summer, I planned to start my career and obtain a PTA position. Working with Cade was a blip on that otherwise wide-spanning radar. Soon I’d be on to bigger and better things. Or so I told myself. I took a deep breath, about to announce my arrival, but then someone else did it for me.

“Hey, Tasha.” My best friend’s boyfriend, in all his tall, dark, suited beauty, appeared in the garage, bag on his shoulder. Devlin Calvary. He was also Cade’s half brother, an unforeseen twist that had surprised them both. Devlin adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder. He was dressed for work in a suit, a blue tie arrowing down to an expensive leather belt. He was the owner of a high-end restaurant, which was why he dressed to impress. He might be wily, but since he’d fallen for my best friend, he’d become…well, not tamed. But there was a light air around him that hadn’t existed before they met. Since this past winter they’ve been inseparable, and Devlin had changed for the better. Rena was finally getting the happiness she deserved. They brought out the best in each other like couples were supposed to do. Devlin kicked his brother’s shoe. “Therapist is here.” Cade didn’t respond. That wasn’t unusual. “You are a glutton for punishment, Montgomery,” Devlin said when he was standing in front of me. His mouth twisted into a smirk—the one my best friend Rena favored. “Yeah, yeah.” His comment wasn’t venomous. He used to be a jerk. Now he was…different. Less intense. Getting used to him being cordial was an adjustment. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Devlin had lived here with Cade and Paul when he was younger, and then he’d returned to help after Cade’s accident. Recently Devlin moved into Rena’s apartment. Their relationship had moved fast, I thought maybe too fast, but part of me conceded that a thick band of envy had clouded my judgment. I wasn’t proud of that ping of jealousy, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. At one point I’d held out hope that my ex, Tony, might pursue our future together. Boy, was I wrong. “This is the last of my stuff,” Dev said, thumb hooked under the strap on the bag hanging from his shoulder. “So…” We glanced into the garage. Cade hadn’t moved from under the car, one leg straight out, the other foot on the ground where he’d crooked a knee. “Enjoy your session with Mr. Sunshine.” Devlin’s full lips pulled into a smile. Okay, he was a looker, I’d give him that. Rena and Devlin suited each other. She wasn’t anything like me. She was a bad girl who played good. I was the last of the good girls, a type A, perfectionist only child who knew her place—who measured her value by how much she could achieve. “Gee, thanks,” I answered, casting another look at Cade. The sound of a wrench cranking came from beneath the rust bucket he was under. “Well.” Devlin pushed a hand through his medium-length black hair and flicked a glance at the upstairs window where Cade had spent nearly every waking and sleeping hour since his accident. “He’s outside, so there’s that.” True. I wouldn’t have to climb the stairs to his dimly lit bedroom today. “Good luck.” Devlin climbed into his SUV. I waved my thanks and watched as he backed out of the driveway. Devlin and Cade had discovered last year that they were half brothers who shared a

mother. I’d had to sit down and draw a flowchart to understand how that had happened. A lot of lies, as it turned out. That development had intensified what Cade was going through. He’d learned his parentage was half fiction, and then he’d added in a car accident, injuring himself and taking him out of college. He hadn’t been the most pleasant person before the injuries. Now, even less, though at least he wasn’t slicing me with that sharp tongue of his. Some days I was surprised I was trying to help him regain his speech. Maybe this time around he’d use his powers for good rather than evil. Remember when I mentioned I was a type A perfectionist? My drive to be praised and in general do my best was a fire I started, and one happily stoked by my father. Nothing pleased him, but that was another story. I went into my field because I genuinely wanted to help people. Cade had given up on himself and his future, and my walking away from him would almost guarantee his future would be one in his bedroom playing video games and grunting every so often. Not that I’d actually been “helping” him lately. We’d pretty much retreated into our neutral corners over the last month. But he was outside. Major progress. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Good afternoon!” I chirped. The wrench sound ceased for a few seconds before starting up again. “Are we doing your session in the garage today?” I spotted an open toolbox and a few grease-covered rags on the ground. “The change of scenery is nice.” No comment from my captive audience. I sighed. Most of the time I felt like I was failing miserably, but I continued to show up and try, try again. At first I’d told myself it was a favor for Paul, and then later I told myself it was my own never-say-die attitude, but now I knew why I continued showing up and pushing him. I did it for Cade. We were running out of time. Soon I wouldn’t have a choice of “should I or shouldn’t I.” Graduation would lead to a state board exam, which in turn would lead to a licensed full-time position. I’d be too busy to come over here and listen to myself talk. I lifted one flat and kicked the sole of Cade’s shoe like Devlin had, backing up quickly when Cade pushed out from under the car on one of those low, wheeled carts mechanics use. The second his light brown eyes locked on mine, I froze. He might be a royal pain in the ass, but it didn’t keep him from being the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. I’d thought so since I first laid eyes on him at Ridgeway University. Despite our mutual dislike for each other, my appreciation of his fine-tuned biceps, tattoos cascading down one arm, and firm, wide shoulders hadn’t gone anywhere. His lips compressed into a line as he stood, snatching up a rag and wiping his hands. He continued scowling at me. I think. My eyes had ventured away from his face to his biceps as they clenched beneath a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. “This is new,” I said. Meaning the car and the fact that he was standing outside. In the sunshine. “I thought you’d turned vampire. I’m surprised to find you out in the daylight.” He grunted as he bent and put his tools away. That was his typical response. I tried not to admire the way his faded jeans clutched his backside, but failed. Cade had a nice ass. When he stood, I averted my eyes from his well-built physique to his short, shaggy mass of

sandy brown hair, and my heart stuttered in my chest. Every inch of him was hot. From a pair of midlength sideburns to the holes in his ears where the piercings had closed because he no longer wore the studs. Tattoos snaked up his left arm, intricate designs, some colored, some not. An array of animals and symbols, metaphors for what I had never found out. Not that I had asked. There were lines we didn’t cross, and his tattoos were one of them. When he smiled, a dimple dented one cheek, and if he really smiled, you could see rows of white teeth—not too white—he wasn’t battling a coffee addiction with Crest Whitestrips like me. In the case of my wayward attraction to Cade, the culprit was my ex-boyfriend, Tony. If Tony hadn’t been such a dickhead, we could be looking for an apartment together and planning our engagement. He was going into sports medicine, I into physical therapy. We had similar upbringings. Similar goals. Similar interests. Well, save one. Tony Fry was most interested in seeing how many women he could date without the others finding out, and I was more of a one-guy type of girl. That was where our paths had ultimately veered. Cade crooked a finger, motioning for me to come closer. I took one cautious step. Then another. He smelled of motor oil, which wasn’t bad. Not on him. It mingled with the scent of his soap and gave him an earthy yet dangerous quality. Plus, Cade looked damn good with oil smeared on his shirt and across one cheek. His eyes dashed to my lips, and back up, and then… I was looking at his back as he walked away from me. Not into the entrance to the house on the right of the garage, but through a door on the left. Curious, I followed. The door opened to a flight of stairs. Okay. One foot after the next, I followed him to the top, then peeked around the doorway. I blinked, stunned. “Whoa.” I had no idea this room existed. The Wilson house was large, and I’d always assumed the windows over the garage were some sort of attic or storage space. Maybe they used to be, but now the space resembled an apartment. Not as big as mine, but much bigger than the bedroom Cade formerly occupied. His bed stood in one corner, the mattress bare. A kitchenette was on the far wall, outfitted with a small sink, microwave, and refrigerator. Open boxes were stacked in the room, along every wall, and flanking an attached bathroom. “Nice place,” I commented, meaning it. An improvement from sleeping across the hall from his father. Cade brushed by me and walked into the kitchenette, then stood with the refrigerator door open and took a few slugs out of an orange juice carton. My eyes flickered over one rounded muscular shoulder and down the curve of thick biceps, then got lost in the maze of ink swirling over his flesh. His hair was damp with sweat, one droplet trickling down the side of his neck. I watched it slide down his throat and disappear into his T-shirt, all the while reminding myself that

sweaty guys dashed with motor oil were not attractive. Parts of me listened. Other parts of me did not. Cade Wilson looked like no other law major I had ever seen. I liked boys and khakis. Oxford shirts did it for me. Well groomed, well spoken. Those were qualities I didn’t only admire, I required. But with Cade my response was off the grid. Carnal. Basal. Against my better judgment over the last few months, I had become inexplicably attracted to his shaggy, messy, never-styled hair. I liked the dangerous quality of the ink on his body. I liked the way he eyed me through that light brown stare of his, with a combination of spite and curiosity. I understood because I’d been looking at him the same way for a long time. We had a history. It wasn’t a good one. “You’ve gained muscle,” I commented. It wasn’t a flirty comment, more a professional observation. Improving bodies was my passion. Noticing his went with the territory. His broken arm had hampered his weightlifting until it healed, but he had more than regained the muscle he’d lost. He licked a droplet of juice off his lips and I tossed my backpack on the couch, unfazed by his tongue or his attitude. Mostly, anyway. “This is a great space,” I began. “Now that I’m here and you’re here, I think we could do actual work today instead of you ignoring me and me doing my homework.” His bland gaze said what he didn’t: He didn’t like my suggestion. Part of me fantasized that he’d give in and cooperate. That I’d have my own moment of personal triumph by helping him progress from a stoic, silent statue into a proper chatterbox. His face scrunched. Maybe not. “The kind of therapy I’m proposing would be more like a workout.” I folded my arms and gave him a smile. “You like to work out, right?” No response. Just the same bland stare. “Only we’ll be working out your face instead of your arms. Think of it as bench presses for your lips. Curls for your tongue.” One brown eyebrow arched in suspicion. Then the side of his mouth flinched. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but interest stirred in the depths of his eyes. I thought about what I’d just said and scowled. “That wasn’t a sexual comment. So don’t take it that way.” What I didn’t need was Cade thinking I was flirting with him. I knew he was bad news—that any attraction we felt was due to proximity and the fact that he was a guy and I was a girl. The hint of a smile vanished from his face. I wish I could say it satisfied me to see it go, but Cade had an amazing smile. He used to smile often. Before the accident, he’d been a grinning idiot most of the time. The problem with this godlike, grinning specimen was that he’d had a big mouth and a sharp tongue. He’d flayed me once with it, and I hadn’t forgotten. “We may as well do something while I’m here,” I snapped. He returned the juice carton and slammed the fridge.

“Cade.” “What!” He spun on me. Stunned, I blinked at him. He lifted that same eyebrow in challenge. He spoke. One syllable—one very frustrated syllable—but still, Cade parted those lips and spoke. He’d said a few words to me when I first started coming around, but lately he’d clammed up. Now, evidently, his patterns were back. Poke him and, like an angry bear, he growled. I couldn’t cheer him on or he’d shut down completely. That left only one option. Me taking charge. “Couch,” I instructed, pointing at a brown leather love seat sitting in front of a TV on the floor. The wires were curled into a circle and I was momentarily surprised he hadn’t hooked it up yet. “We can do your exercises there.” Caramel-colored eyes leveled me as he prowled my way in a few long-legged steps. Then he stalked past me…into the bathroom. I heard the shower start and, with a sigh, I extracted my homework from my backpack and plopped down onto the couch where I’d told him to sit.

Chapter 2 Cade The space above the garage was meant to be an apartment, but for a renter, not me. My dad had envisioned making some extra income by finishing the room before he was swept up in gambling instead. In the years while I focused on becoming a lawyer, he’d lost interest in the idea of renting, or maybe he’d forgotten about it. This section of the house had been used as storage. I hadn’t slept much lately, so on those nights when I lay awake, I came up here and cleared it out. Half the shit went into the garbage—stuff no one needed, like extra garden hoses and malfunctioning holiday lights—and the other half went into storage in the garage. Some of those boxes were filled with my mom’s stuff. I doubted she’d want it back, but I kept it anyway. I unpacked a box, pulling open another dresser drawer to dump in my T-shirts and sweatshirts. That was the last of my clothes. I kicked the box off to one side. I’d carry it back into my old bedroom and pack up my closet next. Moving from the house to the space above the garage wasn’t my idea of living the high life, but my current job as a busser at Oak & Sage didn’t afford me much in way of a place of my own. That would change, and soon, but in the meantime this place gave me the privacy I needed. I made the bed next, stretching a set of navy blue sheets over the mattress and surreptitiously checking out my therapist as she sat on my couch. Tasha Montgomery. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, great ass. She wasn’t easy to overlook. She was tallish, but not too tall, which I liked. A lot. I’d first noticed her on campus at Ridgeway University on the arm of Tony Fry. That jackhole walked all over his women—and yeah, he had more than one. I figured Tasha knew. I wished I could remember myself as a bumbling, nervous idiot who simply blurted the wrong words in the presence of a hot girl, but that hadn’t been the case. I’d made a move on her at a frat party before the accident. My intention was to flatten Tasha with a grin, disarm her with my charm, and get her into my bed shortly thereafter. Tasha hadn’t been charmed, or flattened. She’d been pissed. Snapping her head around to face me, she’d told me point-blank to leave her alone. She didn’t think my offer of riding the “Cade train” was sincere, and—here’s the part I’m not proud of—it wasn’t. I’d pegged her as a rich girl who would go for the grin no matter what I said. I told my buddies as much before leaving them behind to approach Tasha. I was showing off. I wasn’t proud of that either. I’d since learned that I was right—Tasha was a rich girl—but also wrong. She never went for the grin. She’d truly believed that she and Tony were going to ride off into the sunset when it

had been clear to me—and anyone else watching—that Tony was biding his time with her while biding his time with a few someone elses at the same time. Being cheated on sucked. I knew firsthand. Since my ex-girlfriend, Brooke, left me, I’d seen a lot of girls, but never, ever did I date more than one at a time. I wished that made me sound like more of a nice guy, but hey, at least I wasn’t a cheater. For a while I blamed my promiscuity on heartache. Now I blamed myself for being shortsighted while chanting “YOLO” like some frat douchebag who didn’t know the future could change in the blink of one of Tasha’s blue, blue eyes. She’d followed me up here, which didn’t surprise me. Though her suggestion to work did surprise me. We had a routine, and the harebrained “workout for your mouth” idea she’d cooked up was not happening. I liked our routine. I’d sit on a beanbag chair on the floor of my room and play my game while she perched on my bed, papers spread on the unmade covers. Today she was on the love seat I’d dragged in here with Devlin’s help, and I hadn’t bothered plugging in my game system. I was busy packing, cleaning out my space, and, lately, working on my new/old car. Tasha was doing a good job of ignoring me at the moment, which I thought I preferred. Most of the time our interactions reminded me of an old married couple who’d grown sick of each other and no longer spoke. Only in my case, I no longer spoke because rare was the occasion I benefited from it. In the past it had gone something like this: I stuttered. Tasha morphed into teacher mode. I stopped speaking. Nothing like the girl I liked way, way too much looking at me like I was needy and pitiful. Have I mentioned that I liked her liked her? There was no way to act on it, but having her near hadn’t cured me of my fascination. I was hot for teacher. On second thought, maybe Tasha and I were a typical couple. Most couples I knew didn’t exactly have it together. My dad, Paul, and the woman I’d thought was my mother, Joyce, had split up years after Joyce had accepted my father’s affair and me as the by-product. She and I had been distant since the divorce but were more so now. She was humiliated that she’d lied to me all these years and I was pissed that she’d lied to me all these years. Her attempts to reach out to me after my accident were not met with much enthusiasm on my part. I went into the kitchenette and opened the one cabinet over the sink, only to remember I hadn’t bought snacks of my own yet. I’d have to raid Dad’s fridge instead. Tasha hummed some pop-music beat in the back of her throat while she wrote in her notebook. A pair of white earbuds dangled from her ears, the other end attached to her phone. I had been so wrong about her last year. She wasn’t shallow. She wasn’t full of herself. And she cared. Legitimately cared. After the accident I cared about almost nothing. I still didn’t care. Although that couldn’t be true, could it? I was standing in my new “apartment” and I’d invited Tasha up. Wonder why that was? I pretended to unpack another box while I watched her without her knowing. Watched the way she pursed her lips in thought, pushed a few stray strands of blond hair behind her ear. Watched her eyebrows close in over her nose as she skimmed the textbook on her knee. She

sat, her legs folded beneath her, in a short skirt, low-cut red shirt, and sparkly shoes she didn’t bother kicking off. Tasha was gorgeous. She represented everything in life I thought I’d have by now. She lived the definition of “the good life.” She would graduate this year, probably with honors. When Tasha shot me down at that party, I’d been at the top of my game. Now she wouldn’t leave me alone and I was at rock bottom. What was it about broken me she liked so damn much? She came here once a week and fulfilled her obligatory hour with me. She did it for my dad, I assumed. He’d asked for her help when the other therapists quit, though I assumed she’d been put on suicide watch, since it felt like she was being paid to babysit me. I wasn’t suicidal, but being perceived as needy and pathetic wasn’t the best cure for what ailed me. Tasha bit the end of her pen, rolling the barrel over those soft-looking pink lips and making me regret, not for the first time, that I’d never found out how they tasted. Thinking of college reminded me of Brooke, and thinking of Brooke reminded me that I wasn’t worth holding on to. Like Brooke, Tasha had expensive clothes, jewelry that looked real, and her college was paid for. Unlike Brooke, Tasha had a sweet face, cared enough about my voice to argue with me about it on occasion, and her perfume…Seriously. The girl smelled incredible. Tasha lifted her chin and caught me staring. My eyes went to the delicate gold chain at her throat, the tiny turtle pendant sitting there. I wondered what it meant. “Is our time up?” Her watch was gold like her necklace, with a big face and diamonds. Real ones, I’d bet. “Yeah, work.” No stumbling. Nice. It was a rare treat when words came out like they were supposed to. “Oh, okay.” She shoved her book into her backpack and unfolded those delicious-looking legs. Then she stood and tugged her skirt down, though it was too short to come close to her knees. I resisted staring, but only by biting down hard enough on my cheek to make my eyes water. When she stood from the couch, we were close. “Have a good shift.” She shouldered her bag. My eyes returned to her lips. She lifted her chin and shifted from foot to foot. I shrugged, not trusting my voice. Not moving or breathing. “Okay, well, bye.” She twisted her lips. I nodded, but she’d already turned to leave. Instead of changing for work, I lingered at the window, watching the driveway as Tasha strolled out, all that honey-blond hair bouncing on her shoulders. She climbed into her car: A brand new BMW Z4, white, gleaming in the sunshine. Damn. Gorgeous girl. Gorgeous car. There was a time I could’ve had both.

— Bus tub on my hip, I swept through the dining room of Oak & Sage Restaurant. It was late, the only diners taking up space and taking their sweet-ass time a table of six well into their third bottle of wine. A few servers milled around, one of them a tall blonde who stared at everyone like she might take a bite out of them. I’d rather be home underneath my car, or even under Tasha’s scrutiny than this she-wolf’s. Back in school, my buddies labeled me the silver-tongued fox because I was able to get whatever I wanted from whomever I wanted. They may have found the nickname amusing, but to me it was a simple fact. I could be convincing. I could get people to like me. I could also swindle thousands of dollars out of bettors back when I street raced. My Audi, Blue, had brought in more money than she’d cost—and ten times the money I’d made legally over a lifetime. Until she kissed a fire hydrant. I totaled Blue and simultaneously did a good job of totaling myself. Busted up some ribs, my wrist. Broke my foot. I favored it now. Anytime I worked a double shift it throbbed like a bitch by night’s end. Laughter rang out from the bar as I swiped crumbs from the table I’d bussed. I cast a glance to where my brother’s girlfriend, Rena, bartended. I liked her. She was nice, super cute. Not my brother’s typical type with her long, dark hair and ability to spot bullshitters from a mile away. She was also a great friend to Tasha and had a pure bad-girl streak. That was the part that had lured Dev. She wiped the bar top with a towel, giving me a quick smile before turning back to the guys finishing their scotches in front of her. My returning smile faded when I got a better look at the “guys” at the bar. They were my friends. Former friends. We used to share a future, but now they represented dreams lost. Brian and Miller Dermont were brothers, Carey Grainger a friend. The Law Offices of Derby, Grainger, and Wilson was our destiny before I banged up my brain and lost the silver tongue that used to be my calling card. Hard to deliver a compelling closing argument to a jury when you can barely stutter out your own name. Law school was in their future, but not mine. Not anymore. I gritted my teeth and ducked my head, carrying the bus tub to the kitchen. The man I could have become was laid to rest on an icy night on Alley Road. He’d been buried alongside my beloved Blue, now a flattened pancake of metal in a junkyard. My brother swung around the corner, his confident and long-legged stride bringing him closer. Think of the devil, and Devlin appears. He was dressed in a dark suit, blue tie, button-down shirt. A lot like lawyer Cade would have been dressed. Except cooler. An idea bordering on laughable now, since I wore a foodstained apron, work boots, and a black polo shirt with the words “Oak & Sage” embroidered over my heart. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. “Empty the trash in the kitchen and you’re good to go. I’ll have Larry run the bus tubs through the dishwasher.” Devlin clapped my shoulder. “Not bad for your first week. You’ll be

running this place in no time.” I flipped him off. He laughed. “Aspirations, Cade. Aspirations,” he said as he walked away from me. We hadn’t always gotten along. There was a time we’d nearly beat the shit out of each other, and it wasn’t all that long ago. I strolled to the kitchen, gave Larry my full bus tub so he could sort it out, and went to three heaping garbage cans full of discarded food and buzzing with flies. I closed the first trash bag, holding my breath at the stench. Hauling it out of the can and muscling it to the back door, I sent a scowl to that asshole Hamilton who worked behind the line. He was one of those big, dumb types who I could already tell was trouble. And when his eyes narrowed on me, I guessed he was the type dumb enough to bring trouble my way. He’d regret it. I may not be able to string a sentence together without faltering, but I could beat his ass without breaking a sweat. I flipped the lid on the bin outside, tossing in the garbage and wishing I were anywhere but here. Tasha came to mind again. Her, on my couch, but this time I was next to her. She smiled, looking at me with both admiration and desire. The image was one I wanted to be real.

Tasha My father’s voice echoed in the wide marble foyer the moment I stepped into the house. Sounded like he was on the phone with a client. The house was cold, its size and materials doing a great job keeping out the heat. It was the perfect home for my father. He was equally cool and hard. Since his office was at home, he was usually here. Except for when he was flying off to a meeting at one end of the country or the other. “Natasha,” he repeated, greeting me with my full name. His cellphone was in one palm, his graying eyebrows pressed over cold, dark eyes. “Your package.” He handed me a small cardboard box. “Feels light for textbooks.” He was displeased with me. He was normally displeased with me. It was getting hard to tell why. “They’re not textbooks.” We had a minor stare-down that ended with him blinking first. “Are you still having therapy sessions with Caden?” “Once a week,” I answered, wishing I were the kind of person who could lie and make it believable. I didn’t want to talk about Cade with Daddy. I didn’t want to admit that I had pretty much failed Cade since I started. My father’s mouth compressed. “And how is it going?” Unproductive.

“We’re making progress,” I said, cradling the box. I opened my mouth to tell him I’d be on my merry way, but then he spoke. “My office.” He turned and stepped into the formal room. There were globes and models of ships, an anchor hanging on one wall. The mahogany desk and shelves were oversized and highly polished. Though my father worked at home and saw no one, he dressed in a suit every day. He wore one now. I sat primly in a red leather guest chair across from the desk, resting my box at my feet and wishing I’d remembered to change my Amazon address when I moved away. “What’s going on between the two of you?” “Sorry?” I asked, legitimately confused. “You’ve been going over there for four months. I called Paul Wilson today and he told me Caden isn’t saying any more than he used to.” “I’m not sure what you’re implying,” I lied, knowing exactly what he was implying. “How about the truth?” My father’s eyes were the same shade of blue as mine, only they were icy. And they froze me where I sat. I wondered if he’d ever been lovable. Why my mother had tied herself to him at age eighteen. Why I’d chosen to stay with him instead of leaving with her when they divorced…but I knew. At the time, I’d been in high school and hadn’t wanted to leave my friends. Seemed like a good idea at the time. “I’m not a speech therapist.” My voice was a little desperate, so I cleared my throat and tried not to sound like I was defending myself. “I help people with torn ligaments. Rotator cuff issues. People who—” “It seems you and Cade aren’t doing therapy at all.” “Excuse me?” My face flushed. My father may as well have called me a failure. “I don’t want you seeing him any longer. Paul Wilson is a former gambler. Caden Wilson is a criminal.” “Cade is not a criminal.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I didn’t like my father’s tone. “Street racing is illegal.” He had me there. But there was no way I was letting him mandate what I did or didn’t do, who I saw or didn’t see. I was out of “his house” and that made me immune to “his rules.” “Cade doesn’t race any longer and Paul is your accountant. If you don’t trust him, then why would you let him crunch your company numbers?” “Let me explain something to you, Natasha.” His mouth turned down. He was unhappy I’d challenged him. Morton Montgomery leaned back in his chair and put a finger to his temple, elbow on the desk. It was a casual position, but I could never relax under his scrutiny. “Paul Wilson pulled us out of a tax issue two years ago.” “I know.” I should have let him finish his monologue, but I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “We owe him,” he said resolutely, his calm voice echoing off the high ceiling as if he’d shouted.

“You owe him?” I asked, purposely rephrasing his statement. “We owe him. Everything we have—this house, your clothing, tuition, your car—is in part thanks to Paul. The IRS could have seized my records, fined me until I was forced to retire my business. Paul stopped that from happening.” I still wasn’t sure how Super Paul had stopped the government from fining my father until he was penniless. I knew none of this was my fault or fell on my shoulders. But my father always framed it that way. Heaven forbid he bear that weight alone. Even when my parents divorced, he’d included me in the blame game he played nightly. Your mother left us and we’re both at fault. You took up much of her time, and I was forced to work to give my girls what they needed. I guess deep down I knew this wasn’t true, that this was my father’s skewed view of life— the story he had to tell himself so he could sleep at night—but it didn’t stop the oppressive guilt from quashing me. “Wouldn’t you agree we have a good life? Nice things? Privilege, Natasha, doesn’t come cheap.” I didn’t answer. I knew what I had. I could see what others didn’t. “You would agree that if I cut you off—stopped paying for your schooling months before you graduate, sold your car—that would be detrimental to your future, wouldn’t you?” I gaped, stunned. This was the first time I’d heard this speech end with such a blatant threat. “Wouldn’t you.” His voice was low and cold, his two words a command and not a question. “It would be detrimental,” I admitted. This close to graduation, I needed his help with tuition. I couldn’t afford it now that I was living on my own. Briefly I thought of my mother, how I could run to her. When she and Dad divorced, I made my choice. I had been angry with my mother, and my father stoked those flames. At the time, I’d blamed her, which drove a wedge between us. We met for coffee and lunch every once in a while—we weren’t strangers —but I knew she was living without my father’s money as well. She couldn’t afford my education. “I agree,” he said. “You know I couldn’t in good conscience continue to pay for the nice things you have if you were hanging out with a criminal every week, don’t you?” My face grew red as my anger spiked. “We’re not hanging out. We’re working.” “Work happens at the rehabilitation center, not in Caden Wilson’s bedroom.” I shot out of my chair. “I’m not sleeping with Cade!” Snatching up the box, I marched into the foyer, steam billowing from my ears. First off, I hated that I’d just blurted that, because it made me sound guilty. Secondly, I wished I’d remained silent and let my father think what he wanted. Thirdly— “Natasha.” That was at full volume. I stopped in the foyer and turned, nostrils flaring. “I expect very little from you.” He plunged his hands into his pants pockets and said nothing more. “Should I write the check for your tuition and your car payment, or are you dropping out and leaving the BMW here?” The car I could live without. Though I was told it was a birthday gift, not something he

could use to control me. The tuition, however, I needed. College was expensive, and the money Paul gave me to work with Cade wasn’t enough to live on. My job at the rehab center paid, but not well. The only other option would be to move back here. If my options were swallow my pride or endure my dad, well…there wasn’t a choice at all. “I know.” “You won’t see him anymore.” Not a question, so I didn’t answer. I waited for him to demand I concede, but oddly, he didn’t. “You’re dismissed.” I didn’t linger. At my apartment, a five-minute drive from my dad’s house and seven minutes from school, I went in carrying my mail and the shipping box. Number one item on my to-do list was to quadruple-check I had changed my address everywhere. I dumped the envelopes on the counter in my kitchen and, box in hand, walked through my clean, tidy third-floor place and into the bedroom of my dreams. A dove-gray comforter, pale pink throw pillows, and an antique vanity in cream. Even though this was the very furniture from my bedroom when I lived in my father’s oppressive home, here it felt relaxing and soothing. Sitting on my bed, I reached over and snatched a sharp metal nail file from a pen cup on my nightstand and sliced through the packing tape on the box. Inside I found the three books I’d ordered: Self-Help Plus: Stutter Therapy, A Therapist’s Guide to Better Speech, and Bad Boy Bodyguard. I smiled down at the shirtless, tattooed, faceless man on the cover of the novel I’d purchased on a whim. Given that my mind was on Cade so often, the cover model’s sculpted muscles and tattoos decorating his arms reminded me of my grouchy patient. And since the image was cut off at the model’s firm, unsmiling mouth, it was easy to picture Cade there as well. I stroked the cover, thinking of my father’s threats, his demand that I not see Cade any longer, lest Morton Montgomery pull the rug from beneath me. I could stop going to Cade’s. I could stop helping him and focus on school and homework and my job. But as my eyes made their way to the other books I’d ordered, I felt a surge of determination at how much closer Cade seemed to real change. The kind of change that could produce a miracle—him speaking and going back to college, then law school so he could fulfill his dream of being an attorney. If I walked away from him, then what would he do? Giving up on him felt like giving up on myself—like giving my father his way. Well. My father didn’t have to know. It wasn’t any of his business what I did. I didn’t live under his roof. As long as Paul didn’t rat me out, there was no way my father would know if I saw Cade again. I tossed the romance novel onto my bed and picked up one of the other books instead. Then I kicked off my shoes, propped my head up with a pillow, and started learning how, exactly, to make Cade open his mouth and speak to me.

Chapter 3 Cade “How’s she coming along?” I was bent over Devlin’s SUV when he asked. Rather than answer, I held out a palm, then snapped my fingers and pointed at the toolbox. “Socket?” I nodded. He slapped the metal into my hand and I ducked back under the hood. “She looks about the same is why I was asking,” he said. Like his car would look any different on the outside after I fixed it? I was proof that the outside could look the same whether or not the insides were in working order. I finished up, came out from under the hood, and dropped it with a bang. Then my eyes went to where Devlin’s rested. On my girl. My 1969 powder blue Chevrolet Camaro. She was not my new Blue; no car could replace Blue. But she was a classic. And by “classic” I mean she was full of rust holes and needed a new alternator and a whole lot of love and money. Don’t we all. “Do you have her running yet?” Dev asked, hands in his pockets as he strolled over to the Camaro. “Yeah.” I liked that word. It came out clean most of the time. No tricky consonant at the end or the beginning. “You work tonight?” I nodded as I cleaned my hands with an orange rag. “See you there.” He rounded his car and climbed behind the wheel. Through the open window he said, “Thanks for the assist. I’ll buy your dinner tonight.” I tipped my chin in the affirmative and watched him leave. My eyes went back to my newslash-old car Paul bought for my birthday a few months back. (It was a peace offering. He’d been attending Gamblers Anonymous since my accident, and we were trying to get back to the point where I didn’t hate him for stealing money out of my bank account and he didn’t feel guilty for doing it.) She ran. Didn’t sound pretty, but she ran. I’d have to think of a name for her. I decided since I didn’t have to work for a few more hours, and there was no Tasha coming over to bother and/or sexually frustrate me, I might as well work on my nameless car. I cranked up the radio in the garage to drown out the neighbor’s lawn mower buzzing across the street. Then I got to work underneath the Chevy, my mind on that night on Alley Road. Street racing wasn’t legal. So I guess my giving my dad crap for doing something illegal was a bit of the pot/kettle routine. But street racing was what I was good at, plus, it gave me some extra spending cash. I liked everything about it. The rush as I revved the engine, the squeal of

the tires as I peeled out, the adventure and risk. Cars were a big part of what made me who I was. Before I met Brooke, I was planning to become a mechanic, but she decided she didn’t want to marry a blue-collar guy and I decided to appease her. Girls. Anyway. A bookie, Sonny Lawrence, took my bet that night. I bet on myself to lose. The guy who’d challenged me had nitro, so throwing the race was a no-brainer. Blue could’ve taken him, but not everyone knew that. I had it all under control. Until the black ice. When I popped the wheel to the right, I lost control, wheels sliding, lights outside spinning. My precious Audi slid sideways into a fire hydrant and sent me on one fucked-up ride. One that took me out of college, landed me back at home living with my dad, and killed my backup plan of becoming a rap artist. I pushed out from under the Camaro now, lungs seizing and mind spinning. I was suddenly claustrophobic. I didn’t remember much about the accident. The ambulance came, I was taken to the hospital. They performed surgery and bandaged me up. The things I remembered most were the pain and Tasha. She’d been at the hospital when I opened my eyes the next morning. Second person I saw, after my father. Her blond head hovering there in front of me reminded me of an angel. And the way she was looking at me… blue eyes filled with sympathy and concern stole my breath. Or maybe my breath had been stolen by two cracked ribs. Hard to say. I turned the wrench over in my hand a few times, considering that Tasha had shown up for me when all my other “friends” had run for the hills. That might be a bit of the pot/kettle routine as well, considering I would’ve bolted from the scene of the accident too. Maybe. I narrowed my eyes as if seeing the picture from outside of myself. No. I wouldn’t have bolted. If I’d seen a guy slumped over the steering wheel, I’d have made sure he was okay. Tasha and I had that in common. She’d hung out in my hospital room with my dad before I was conscious. Dad said she’d been able to explain things in a way he understood. Which made me like her more than I should. Life was simpler when she hated me. When I knew there was no chance of getting her by my side or in my bed. Now I figured I had a chance, but it was because she saw me as a bird with a broken wing. Never one to harbor a fantasy of being taken care of, I was still trying to act like I didn’t care about her at all. The problem was, I had begun to admire things about her beyond the physical. Her bright blue eyes held pain and secrets I wanted to unearth. Which was dangerous to the nth degree. What could I possibly offer a rich girl? Like Tasha Montgomery would dare to be seen dating a mechanic…admittedly a step up from my regal employment as busboy at Oak & Sage. Hell, I cleaned up after people like her. I’d run off my three other therapists, basically by being my own charming self. After the large, middle-aged German woman stomped out our front door, guess who showed? Yep. Tasha. I wasn’t welcoming, my pride still smarting from her definitive “no” at that frat party, but Tasha didn’t balk. She dug her heels in and kept showing up even though I never did as she asked. I tried once to practice a few speech exercises when she’d left. Stood in front of the

mirror like a dope and tried to work through the words. It didn’t help and made me feel stupid, and there was a zero percent chance I’d do that in front of a girl I liked. Used to like. Fine. Still liked but put the idea of landing her to rest. Happy now? Granted we hadn’t done much in the way of therapy, which could be why it wasn’t working. My fault. I also noticed (begrudgingly) that I was calmer in her presence. More confident when she was around. She’d shot me down at the party way back when, but it took a lot more to shake me than a “Leave me alone.” And maybe that was the thing…My relationship with Tasha started because I thought I’d get her into bed and take out my frustrations on a girl like Brooke—a girl for whom all things came easy. A dick move, I know. Instead I found some sort of solace in Tasha I didn’t fully understand. It was messed up. Rather than use her for sex, I was using her to feel more like my old self. While my body healed, my voice stayed broken. When I did talk, I sounded like a skipping vinyl record. Not what I’d had in mind neck deep into pre-law classes, you know? I’d spent my time since the accident healing and lying around the house. But I was tired of being here all the time. When Dev came over a few weeks back and told me he needed help at the restaurant, I offered. And by “offered” I mean I nodded and gave him a halfhearted grunt. Doing something was far less depressing than doing nothing, and at least I made my own money now. I slid back under the car, content to work on a machine that, if it did ask a question, my tools could answer. — I had no idea how long I’d been under the car. A few hours, I figured. I was in a zone. It had been a while since I’d been immersed in a project. Long-term or otherwise. Now that my days weren’t filled with homework, studying legal cases, and my evenings were devoid of drinking beer with my friends, I had a lot of time on my hands. One more small adjustment, then I could scoot out, take my shower, and head to work. Or at least I thought I had enough time, until I heard my dad’s raised voice. “Cade!” “W-wait,” I said, trying to finish up. “Cade!” he repeated frantically, but I wasn’t answering him again. When he palmed my tennis shoe, I pushed myself out from under the chassis and glared at him. “You left your phone in the house. Devlin called twice. Do you work tonight?” Shit. Shitshitshit. “Do you need me to take you? What were you doing under there anyway? The car ran fine until you started messing with it.” But I wasn’t listening, tossing my tools into the red toolbox, slamming it on the counter, and yanking my T-shirt off as I ran for my new bedroom.

“Let me know if you need a ride!” he called after me. Dammit. I did. Which was unfortunate. The new guy with the new job his brother got him was going to have to get his dad to give him a ride there. Shit! I took the stairs two at a time, stripped off the rest of my clothes, and climbed into the shower. I had thirty seconds, maybe. I was making every one of them count.

Tasha My last patient for the day was taking his sweet time. And flirting with me. His hands gripped the poles on either side of his body as he took another shaky step. “You’re sure, beautiful?” he asked. I gave him a grin. “I am flattered, Mr. Newman. But I don’t date my patients.” My instructor Veronica shot me a good-natured eye roll and a smile. She knew exactly what Mr. Newman was like—incorrigible and charming in equal measures. Nor did I date men who were forty-five years older than me, but I suspected he already knew that part. He had taken a nasty spill thanks to a testy knee—“from the army,” he told me—and had broken his hip. His recovery was slow going, but he’d offered the flattering compliment that his time was well spent because he was with me. I felt the same way. Greg Newman was positive, funny, and the most respectful man in my life. I liked spending time with him. He didn’t let little things stop him. He didn’t even let big things stop him. Unlike a certain other someone who had been fighting me every step of the way. I told myself I was being unfair. Cade had only been in recovery for a few months. Healing took time. “Is there someone else?” Mr. Newman asked with mock concern. “There’s no one else.” I encouraged him to take another step. “I can tell,” he said, regripping the bar and committing to his next step, “that you have a man on your mind.” He harrumphed. “A younger man, I’ll bet. I guess I can’t blame you. Everything on me is falling apart, and I don’t think I could keep up with someone as young and active as you are.” “You’re doing fine,” I said. “You’re doing better than most of the younger men I know.” One in particular. “These days, the younger guys can’t hold their own the way you mature men can.” “ ‘Mature’ is a nice way to say ‘geriatric.’ ” He lifted gray eyebrows. I gave him a wink that seemed to satisfy him for the remainder of the session. Once we were through, Veronica called me into her office. I went, half worried I’d committed some infraction of which I was not aware. As a perfectionist, I was always fearing I was doing something wrong. Even when I was sure I wasn’t. “Close the door.” Veronica wore a bland expression on her caramel-colored face. Until I was a licensed PTA, she was my shadow. I didn’t mind. She was friendly, encouraging, and patient.

She was also one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen in my life. Like Beyoncé, but slimmer, her face more placid than fierce. “Have a seat.” Uh-oh. This really was starting to sound bad. I eased down into the chair across from her desk and admired a small cactus with a bright orange bloom. “Tasha.” My eyes widened and met hers. “I’d like to offer you a permanent position here upon graduation. If you’d like to accept it.” Stunned, I processed this information slowly. I was speechless. Veronica’s face broke into a smile. “Full-time employment comes with a raise, but I talked to my supervisor and we agreed to make it retroactive on today’s date.” “But…I have a few more months?” The statement came out like a question, because I couldn’t believe my luck. A raise and a full-time position would mean I could relax about finding work. I could stay here, in a facility I loved. It would mean less dependence on my father. I could start paying for my own everything and he could no longer lord his money over me. I grinned, the possibilities stretching out in front of me into the infinite skyline. “I take it that is a ‘yes,’ ” Veronica said with a soft chuckle. “Yes. I’m sorry. Yes, yes.” Unable to sit any longer, I shot from the chair and held out a hand. She shook it as I thanked her, and I appreciated her taking my profuse use of the words “so much” in stride. At my locker, I packed my things, still grinning at the turn of good fortune. Spring really was the best—and now she was bringing me change in the form of freedom. Or the first step of it, anyway. I should get a bottle of wine. No! Sparkling wine. Something with a cork I could shoot off my balcony. But the idea of going home to my apartment to celebrate alone did not appeal. I could go to Oak & Sage. The moment I had the thought, my smile returned. I could tell Rena my good news and have sparkling, bubbly wine with her. Well, since she was working, I’d likely only have it with myself, but still. I could toast to my new job. My new permanent job. And going there had nothing to do with the fact that Cade might work this evening. Or the fact that I hadn’t seen him in almost a week. Nope. Nothing to do with him at all. Mr. Newman occupied my mind on the short drive to Oak & Sage. He might have a worndown body, but at least he could hold up his end of a conversation. At least he smiled. At least he tried. If Cade would only try, I knew he would surprise himself. I’d worked with guys who were missing limbs, people with permanent injuries who couldn’t physically move. Some of them suffered setbacks, but at least they tried. I parked in the lot at Oak & Sage and walked in feeling fluttery and excited, and not only because of my news. I’d already pictured Cade inside, whisking by with a plastic tub, a scowl on his staggeringly handsome face. It wasn’t like I had a crush on Cade, but it felt like I was coming here to see him. And I

wasn’t. I took a deep breath and pulled the front door open, nodding at the hostess and then passing her by on my way to the bar. Totally not here to see Cade. Rena spotted me and waved. She finished pulling a beer and set the glass in front of a man at the bar. Then she crossed to the side where I was pulling out a stool for myself. “Hey! This is a nice surprise.” “I have news.” Rena’s eyes rounded in interest. She rested a hand on the bar and waited for me to continue. “The rehabilitation center offered to hire me on permanently and I accepted!” I couldn’t help it. Rena and I let out a pair of happy shrieks. Best friends were the best, weren’t they? “That’s amazing!” she said. Then she turned and showcased the wall of liquor behind her with a sweep of her arm. “Pick your poison. Your drink’s on me.” “Would it be weird to ask for sparkling wine?” “Not weird at all.” Rena moved to the wine cooler. She pulled out a tiny, single-serving bottle of champagne and made quick work of cracking the plastic. “No cork, then?” “Sorry.” She screwed her lips to the side and read the label. “Not on the individual serving size. I promise when we can properly celebrate, I’ll buy you a bottle with a cork.” She served my sparkly wine in a tall flute, then filled one with Sprite for herself and held her glass aloft. “To your new permanent gig as a therapist.” “It kicks in after I graduate.” I worried my lip. “You don’t think I’m jinxing it, do you?” “Absolutely not. You’re graduating, Tasha. And you’re going to pass your boards. And you’re going to be the best PTA in the state.” I loved her. “Thanks, Reen.” We tapped glasses and drank, and I made a face. “Ugh.” “I know. It looks so much yummier than it tastes, doesn’t it?” I nodded my agreement but took another sip anyway. I was celebrating. I was drinking the damn champagne no matter what it tasted like. “You came in at a good time. Things are pretty slow for the moment. So tell me. How excited are you?” “I’m so excited. Relieved, actually. I never dreamed they’d offer me a position. No one ever hinted they’d need more than temporary help. I enjoy the work too. I have a lot of fantastic patients.” Rena raised one eyebrow. “And one really uncooperative one?” We both knew she meant Cade. “Oh, well”—I hesitated, staring at the bubbles sticking to the side of my glass—“you know. Some things take a while to change.” Since a man with a tall beer was her only guest, Rena leaned on the bar in front of me and made herself comfortable. “Yeah, Devlin said he’s being less of a pain in the ass than before, that he’s trying. I hear he moved into a room over the garage?”

I nodded, remembering how it felt up there. Like Cade was a different guy than the one sulking in his former bedroom. “He is trying. He has a car he’s fixing up as well.” And he smells good even dirty. “That’s good. I’ve been pulling for him since his life was flipped—along with his car. I can’t imagine having to relearn how to talk. Getting back to normal must preoccupy his every thought.” “Maybe, but he isn’t willing to work on it. Not with me, anyway.” “Give him time, Tash. I know you. You aren’t one to give up on someone who needs you. You’ve given lots of chances to people who didn’t deserve it.” I knew her raised eyebrow meant Tony, and she wasn’t wrong. I’d given him second, third, and fourth chances. “Plus, I have the added bonus of my father threatening me if I continue seeing Cade,” I said in a stage whisper. “What? Why?” I shrugged rather than tell her my dad thought Cade and Paul would influence me to become a criminal. Devlin hadn’t walked the straight and narrow either, and I didn’t want to accidentally insult Rena. “But you are right about Cade,” I said, masterfully steering the conversation. “He’s been through a lot and I’m tenacious. I’ll get him to crack. Then speak.” In the last handful of months, Cade had learned the secret of his parentage, wrecked his car, and lost his plans for a future as an attorney. His hesitation was understandable. “It’s all coming together,” I told her. “I was able to avoid moving back in with my dad—I mean, with his help.” I winced. My father gave me an allowance for living on campus and I went to the mat pretty hard, arguing my apartment was safer. It wasn’t a lie, but my new place was definitely more costly than a dorm room. “Your father has plenty of money, Tasha,” Rena told me. “Don’t feel guilty that he wants to fund your education and make sure you have a place to live. You’re independent. You’ll cut those strings as soon as you’re able. I know you will.” I appreciated her being on my side. I knew I could be dismissed as spoiled, but Rena never saw me that way. “And now the job!” Rena lifted her Sprite and tapped my glass with hers before swallowing it down and bending over the sink to wash the flute. After a demure burp, she said, “You’re getting there, Tash. Don’t give up now. These things going on with your dad are about to be history.” She moved to a couple who sat down, and I used the moment to take a look around the restaurant. Oak & Sage wasn’t overly busy, but there were quite a few suits and nice dresses in here. A few men in the corner leaned on the table toward one another, having a heated discussion if their body language was anything to go by. Several martini glasses dotted the table. I settled into my chair and enjoyed people watching, lifting my bubbly and taking another sip, glad I decided to come here to celebrate. I scanned the room for Cade in case he was here. Just because it would be polite to say hello.

Not for any other reason.

Chapter 4 Cade Work was riveting, if your idea of riveting was cleaning up after people like livestock. Seriously, it floored me how much food people wasted. Equally alarming was how much money they paid to throw out half the food. That could be me being grouchy. I’d shown up late, but lucky for me it hadn’t mattered too much. I mean, other than the fact that Devlin had steam coming out of his ears. I didn’t let him rile me. I’d been through more difficult struggles in my past than Devlin being pissy. It was pretty slow tonight, likely because this was the first really nice day in a while. Nice weather in Ridgeway reminded everyone it was time to leave the house. That was probably the origination of my grouchiness. All I’d been able to think about was how I’d rather be under my car in the open-air garage than here in this dimly lit building. I dumped a bus tub of dirty dishes off at the dish tank and turned the corner to walk to the back. As I did, the degenerate criminal line cook I was coming to hate with every fiber of my being called out, “Hey! Chatterbox!” Fuck. Here we go. My shoulders tightened along with my jaw. I couldn’t stand that guy. He thought he was funny, as evidenced by his braying like a jackass at his own quip. I’d ignored his shouts all day. He’d taken to calling me Dopey and Mute, then devolved to Chatty and now Chatterbox. I was trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble, but he wasn’t making it easy for me. Back out in the dining room, I occupied myself by collecting empty wineglasses and a bottle when someone called, “Cade?” I turned to find one of my buddies, Miller, who’d been frequenting Oak & Sage lately. He was having dinner with a petite brunette. Girlfriend, maybe? I didn’t realize he was seeing anyone, which shows how out of touch we’d fallen. She gave me a demure smile. I straightened, moving the wineglasses and bottle to the same hand so I could shake Miller’s. “Hey, man.” He stood from the table and we faced each other awkwardly. I’d left school abruptly. Busy with physical therapy and relearning how to chew food made college a trying task. Since I didn’t go back, I hadn’t seen much of anyone. My friends didn’t exactly ditch me. We just didn’t have much in common any longer, since we weren’t studying and crashing campus parties together. “I’ve been wondering how you were, man. Spotted you the other day, but you ducked into the back.” Miller was a nice guy. My height, with short hair and glasses, he looked the part of an attorney-at-law already. I had seen him that day too, but I ran like a pussy when I saw him and our friends here. To avoid this very conversation.

“How are things?” he asked. I nodded, then figured he’d think I was an asshole if I didn’t speak. “G-good.” I tried to smile to cover the glitch but it was a grimace instead. “You?” “We, uh, we’re doing well.” He palmed the back of his neck like he was nervous. Which made the hair on the back of my own neck stand on end. Miller wasn’t the most direct one of our friends, and I could tell something weighed on his conscience. We always said of our future firm that Miller would be the pro bono guy. He’d be good with charity cases. “We’ve, uh”—he cleared his throat—“we’ve decided to go ahead with our plans for the building downtown.” I felt the color drain from my face and the room seemed to cant to one side. He wasn’t looking at me when he started speaking again. “Brian secured a lease. We had to. Rumor had it another business was about to snatch it. I know we’re a ways off from starting the firm, but we couldn’t let it be leased by another lawyer or something worse. Like an accountant.” He was poking fun at my dad, and made a horrified face that was supposed to make me laugh. I didn’t feel like laughing. Puking, maybe. Our building. The one next to a boutique with jewelry in the window and on the other side, a sushi restaurant. Claire Street. I’d found that location. I felt my ears turn red as a mix of anger and shock washed through my bloodstream. Miller hazarded a gaze up at me, and despite his being the messenger, I shot darts out of my eyes. They’d moved on. Without me. All of them. “Sorry, man. We didn’t think you were coming back to school. We’re graduating in June. Brian’s application into law school was already accepted.” He shrugged like he didn’t know what else to say. I could relate. I didn’t know what to say, even if I could have fucking said it. “Cade. Table fifteen!” Chet, the floor manager, called to me. Having a dorky guy put me to task—especially when the task was collecting dirty dishes—was the perfect topper to this shitty conversation. Miller, standing in his dress pants and button-down, was having a twohundred-dollar dinner with his girlfriend, while I was wore a dirty apron, my fingers looped around the evidence of another couple’s evening of fine dining. “Cade!” I turned and lifted my chin at Chet to let him know I heard him. He tapped his wrist like he was wearing a watch to let me know I wasn’t allowed to stand here and socialize. The prick. “I’ll let you work,” Miller said. I would have felt bad for him if I wasn’t so busy feeling bad for myself. “Nice to meet you,” his girlfriend chimed. I gave her a tight smile and a nod before I turned and stalked to the kitchen. I dumped the bottle and gingerly placed the wineglasses in the dish rack. I was about to go out to table fifteen and clear it when the line cook—who had no idea how awful his timing was—decided to run me down again. “Hey, old Dopey’s back, guys.” Laughter rippled down the line. “Stop talking so much. We’re tired of hearing it!” he called out, earning another few chuckles interspersed with clanging utensils.

“Seriously, Dopey,” called the guy putting together a salad at cold side. “Hamilton’s right. You’re yapping our ears off.” I turned and faced Hamilton—the degenerate line cook. He was taller than me and had a protruding gut, red beard, and no hair on top of his head. “Aww. I hurt his feelings.” Hamilton sneered, the word “feelings” coming out in baby talk like “fee-wings.” That’s it. My lip curled. I reached around my back, untied my apron, and slipped it over my head. Devlin wasn’t going to like this. “Where you going, Chatty?” Hamilton goaded. “Don’t go away mad. Just go—” I stepped behind the line, balled my fist, and popped him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and onto the steak sizzling away on the flattop grill. The salad guy backed into the counter when I turned on him. I lifted my eyebrows, asking him silently if he had anything to add. He didn’t. A swearing, bleeding Hamilton made a lot of noise, but he wasn’t interested in challenging me further. Instead, he held his palm over his gushing nose and yelled at a few other guys to put a new steak on the grill and get back to work. I shook out my hand. Son of a bitch, that hurt. As I was flexing my fingers, I saw someone approach behind me. I turned and raised my fist, ready to take out whoever was barreling at me and stopping short when I saw it was Dev. It spoke to how far we’d come that I didn’t take a swing at him. Hamilton tattled, shouting about how I’d hit him. Shouting about how it was unprovoked. The salad guy backed him, saying that I’d walked up and punched Hamilton in the face for no reason whatsoever. Then he slid me a side eye like he was daring me to say something. Asshole. I spoke only when absolutely necessary. And even right now, with my ass on the line, it was not necessary. “Everybody calm down. Get back to work.” Devlin looked the authority in his suit, but Hamilton was aware Dev was ten years his junior. “You know what, Calvary? I don’t think I will.” Hamilton yanked his apron off and wiped it across his bloody face. “I need you back there tonight, man,” Devlin said, holding out a palm to stop him. “I’m injured. I’m heading to the ER.” Hamilton’s voice was flat, a smile cresting his stupid mouth. “I may have to sue. Or get workers’ comp.” “And I may have to call the cops, since I know you have weed in your locker.” Hamilton froze. “But go ahead. Take the rest of the night off.” Devlin’s voice was steel, and the look he gave Hamilton said he would deal with him later. Dev turned to me next. “Out. Get out of my kitchen.” I didn’t argue, not that I would have anyway, simply shrugged past him, ignoring the cheers

of my coworkers. Mocking voices rose behind me. Comments like “Chatterbox” and “Dopey’s going to cry” nipped at my heels as I exited the kitchen. Through my very red vision blurred by rage, I barely noticed when I ran into the blonde right outside the doorway. Soft curves met my chest, and my hands instinctively came up and curled around small shoulders. I was eye to eye with the bluest blue eyes and the softest, pinkest lips I’d ever seen. I blinked as if she were a mirage.

Tasha I had just come out of the ladies’ room when I smacked into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. It was Cade. And he was…seething. His fists were balled at his sides, his eyes unseeing as he looked down at me. The moment he recognized me, those hands rose to steady me and his features softened. The transformation was astounding. The way his eyebrows returned to their neutral stations and his mouth softened and his thumbs brushed over my shoulders in silent apology. “Cade. What happened?” I scanned his clothes—polo, work pants, boots. No apron. I didn’t see anything out of place, but instinctively I knew something was wrong. Then I spotted it. His knuckles were bleeding. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.” I lifted his hand in mine, wincing as a dart of sympathy pain shot through me. I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the restroom. Much to my surprise, he didn’t stop me. Until I put a palm on the women’s restroom door. “No.” Once he resisted me, moving him became impossible. There was simply no way I could budge him when he dug in. He was like that physically. And he was like that mentally. Go figure. I tried another tactic. “There’s no one in there. I just came out. You look like you need a minute, so why don’t you let me clean you up?” He considered my offer, his eyes zooming in on a table with a couple our age sitting there. I went for the kill shot. “Come on, people are staring at you.” They weren’t, not really. But that couple did a neck-crane glance-over. I hoped it wasn’t because they’d overheard me. Cade caught sight of them and the next thing I knew, he was dragging me into the ladies’ room. It was a onesie. When we were both in, I locked the door. Cade was standing, hands at his sides, eyes unfocused like he was reliving whatever had happened. Given that Oak & Sage was a super-fancy restaurant, there was no paper towel dispenser. Instead, there was a basket filled with plush cotton towels. White. Which would be unfortunate for the person who was responsible for the restaurant’s laundry. I cranked the cold water on and wet the towel under the stream. “What happened?” I repeated. I didn’t think he would answer me, and I was right. “Did you hit something?” I inspected his knuckles. Likely the blood wasn’t his. Upon closer

examination in better light, I saw abrasions, but no deep cuts. I hazarded a glance up at him. He shook his head. Dabbing the wet towel against his knuckles gently, I muttered under my breath, “Well, I hope you didn’t hit someone.” I heard a sniff and looked up again. The side of Cade’s mouth lifted into a smirk and then dropped. “You hit someone?” I stopped cleaning him up. “Are you serious?” He shrugged. “What were you thinking? You can’t hit people because…” I stopped midsentence when he snatched the towel out of my hand and finished cleaning his knuckles with twice the force and half the patience I had used. “Cade, if you’re upset or if you get angry, you need to take it out in a more healthy way than punching somebody.” He tossed the towel into the basket in the corner of the bathroom. Then turned on me and crossed his arms. My eyes accidentally skated over his ample biceps. Even in that unflattering black polo shirt, he was achingly attractive. “Wuh-what do you suggest, T-Tasha?” I didn’t react to his stutter. I was too focused on his tone. “Try counting down from ten,” I said, as if his question hadn’t been rhetorical. He advanced toward me. “Slowing your breathing helps.” Another step. “Have you tried meditation?” The word “meditation” left my lips on a whisper, because now Cade was standing directly in front of me. I backed up to give myself breathing space, but there was nowhere to go. My butt hit the door. “Or?” His voice was a soft rumble, and in an instant I remembered the way he used to be. The way he was at the frat party, when he wandered over to hit on me. But this version of Cade was completely different from that version. He used to ooze confidence. Now there was a dangerous quality to him, and it completely towed me in. His lips lowered to mine and before I thought about why I was doing it, my eyelids closed. His scent swirled around me, piney and earthy, though I doubted it was cologne. Soap, I guessed. My chin tipped up and his warm breath cascaded over my lips, sending droves of tingles down both arms. I swore I felt his lips touch mine in the briefest brush, but then the handle on the door jiggled, followed by a sharp knock. I reeled off the wood like I’d been shocked, sliding along his torso in my effort to escape. Escape what, I didn’t know. Cade didn’t panic, but he did look more cautious than he had a moment ago. “We should get out of here,” I told him in a harsh whisper. “Are you okay to go out?” “Are you?” He spoke clear as a bell, those two words enunciated perfectly. If I wasn’t so busy being turned on by our almost kiss, I might be impressed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I answered. Turning my back on him, I unlocked the handle and exited the bathroom, noting that the well-dressed older woman at the threshold appeared slightly inconvenienced. Then Cade exited behind me and her expression shifted to positively scandalized.

“We thought this was the kitchen,” I said with a smile, but my excuse made zero sense. When she latched the bathroom door, I turned to see Cade smiling. Dimple and all. Not gonna lie, my knees went a little gooey. “K-kitchen,” he repeated. “Shut up,” I murmured, then I beelined for the bar, where I collected my purse from Rena, said a quick goodbye, and drove straight home. But on the way, I noticed I was smiling too. All because of the almost kiss in Oak & Sage’s ladies’ room.

Cade I should probably be grateful that Devlin drove me home from work so my father didn’t have to pick me up. It wasn’t like I could ask Tasha for a ride. By the time I meandered to the bar, she was out the door, her hair swishing behind her. Not sure exactly what happened in there. She’d dragged me into the bathroom and peppered me with sexual innuendo like buckshot. Then there was the matter of the locked door, and the fact that we had a few minutes to ourselves that had nothing to do with therapy. By the time she’d made suggestions on how I could relax, the only option I could think of was Kissing you. So close. I could still taste the shared air between us. Still smell the slightly fruity fragrance of her bubblegum pink lip gloss. “I get it,” Dev interrupted, jerking me out of my thoughts. “Hamilton is a dick.” After Tasha left, I pulled out my phone and sent Devlin a text telling him exactly what had happened in the kitchen. Then I’d ventured back into the kitchen to help, despite the cold stares coming from the line. Devlin had changed into his kitchen clothes and ran the grill in Hamilton’s absence, and it wasn’t like any of the guys would dare challenge me in front of him. The worst part about it was that my biggest and best defense, that formerly silver tongue of mine, was at present my worst enemy. I couldn’t stand up for myself or make a case for myself. Instead, I stayed silent and relied on looking mean. At least they knew I wasn’t afraid to throw a punch. “That said, he’s my only grill guy,” Devlin said now. “If he quits…I’m screwed, man. Unless you want to be trained on grill.” His eyes flicked to mine before returning to the road again. I didn’t have to speak for him to know my answer. I wasn’t looking to build a career at Oak & Sage. It started to rain and I watched the drops hit the windshield while I groused. “I’m not giving you special treatment,” Dev continued. I didn’t want special treatment, but telling him so would involve a lot of complicated words, so instead I pressed out two I was capable of. “Got it.” In my driveway, Devlin waved a hand without looking over at me. “I’ll talk to the guys.” “D-don’t.” I leveled him with my most severe glare. The last thing I needed was my brother telling everybody not to pick on me.

He nodded as if he understood. Maybe he did. “Fine. But find a better way to communicate with them that does not involve you throwing your fists. Do it again, Cade, and I swear, you’re fired. I don’t care whose fault it is. I’m running a restaurant, and it’s a lot harder than it looks.” Pissed at being treated like a child, I climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Which admittedly was a childish reaction. Of the two of us, I understood how Devlin saw himself as the consummate adult. He was living with his girlfriend, running the restaurant, raking in money. But I refused to be pitied or treated like I was less-than because I’d been forced to start over. Directly after the accident, I had pretty much hated life and everything that went with it. That included my father, that included Devlin, and that included the unfairness of life in general. Now I was torn between anger and something else…I don’t know what it was, but it felt a lot like motivation to be better. That was some shit. Headlights swept out of the driveway as I punched in the code for the garage door. The rain was light, but I found myself wishing it would storm. That might be enough to dampen my temper. My interaction with Hamilton was an hour-plus in the past, but I still vibrated with anger. After the garage door rose to the top, I closed it again and went upstairs to my home away from home, grateful I didn’t run into my dad when I walked in, since I wanted to be alone. But once I stepped into the kitchenette and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, I realized that I didn’t want to be alone. My gaze moved from the rain-spattered window to the empty love seat. I didn’t want to be alone at all.

Chapter 5 Tasha God, I loved Taylor Swift. I loved her music and the rhythm of it, and the fact that it was really easy to dance around to in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt with the speakers cranked all the way up. The novelty of having a home to myself had not worn off. Even in my dorm, I had a roommate. Still in celebration mode a few days later, I was content to bop in the kitchen while tossing a pizza in the oven. Not the frozen grocery-store kind. This was one you take and bake from the local pizzeria. The kind of homemade dough that bakes up crisp on the edges and chewy in the middle. Oh, sweet carbs, take me home. I had just uncorked a bottle of white wine, completing my plans. A delightful evening of kitchen dancing, wine, and way too many calories in the company of myself. That’s right, anything to get me to stop thinking about Cade almost kissing me. Only I hadn’t stopped thinking about it, because there wasn’t anywhere to pack that information. And so it floated around untethered in my head. The way his eyes heated, the way his lips parted, the tickle of his breath over my skin… I touched my lips now, realizing that the moment taught me a lot more than I expected. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it more than I dared to admit aloud. So I wouldn’t. Not ever. To anyone. The song ended and my iPod switched to Ed Sheeran. Much as I loved Ed, the last song I needed right now was one dripping with regrets about love lost. No, thanks. I punched a button and skipped it. Sipping my wine, I stared at my reflection in the glass of the eye-level black oven. School had been extra sucky today. I was pretty sure I’d failed my test in Critical Analysis, and I’d experienced the unpleasantness of seeing Tony with his new girlfriend. My ex-boyfriend was bad enough on his own and became infinitely worse when he was with his petite, perfect new girlfriend with big green anime eyes and a skirt so short I could see tan lines. I wrinkled my nose and finished my wine in one gulp. I used to have Tony over to my dad’s house whenever my dad went out of town. We would spend the weekend lounging on the couch, making food, or making love in my bedroom. And if he wasn’t available (although I learned much later he wasn’t available because he was a dirty cheater), I would invite my girlfriends instead. We’d order pizza and watch movies, impromptu dance parties an inevitable eventuality. Now I lived on my own, had the place to myself each and every day. Having friends over

had stopped when I left Tony. Last year I lived on campus, had a roommate, had a boyfriend, had a bunch of friends. Rarely was there a weekend where I didn’t have a party to go to or a friend’s house to hang out in. Until… Tony was caught kissing an acquaintance named Jamie. Next I found out that not only was Tony kissing Jamie, he was sleeping with her. To top that off, I found out he had also slept with two of my other friends. While he and I were dating. When my roommate moved off campus to save money this year, that left me with a bunch of slutty friends who avoided me like the proverbial plague. So. Here I was. Alone, because hanging around a bunch of bitches who would just as soon sleep with my boyfriend as look at me was worse. I refilled my wine. The direction of my thoughts made me consider drinking the entire bottle. Just as I lifted the glass to take a sip, the buzzer rang. Given my friendless state, and the fact that I’d seen Rena only yesterday, I couldn’t imagine who would be here. I went to the box next to my front door and pressed a button. “Hello?” I greeted. No response. I punched the button again and repeated, “Hellooo?” Nothing. I gave up, but as soon as I turned my back the buzzer announced itself again in a succession of three quick zzzts. “What!” I said into the speaker. “It’s m-me.” My face went warm. “Cade? What are you doing here?” I couldn’t think of one single reason he’d come to see me. Moreover, what the hell was he doing at my apartment at ten o’clock at night? How the heck did he even know where I lived? The buzzer buzzed again and I punched the button. “Don’t do that!” I hissed. Again he remained silent. I imagined talking into a speaker was his least favorite pastime. I could also imagine him out there, furious expression, refusing to open his mouth and speak to me. I thought of his face yesterday. The way his fists were curled, anger vibrating through him. Then I thought of his blood-covered knuckles and wondered if there had been another incident at work. Surely he hadn’t punched someone else… After a long, long pause, I punched the speaker and said, “Are you still out there?” “Y-yes,” came the growled response. I held down the button so he could get in and then opened my front door to stand on the landing. I heard his shoes on the stairs before I saw him. I leaned over the railing, catching a glimpse of his brown hair. My eyes slipped down to my bare legs, my bare feet. My nearly bare everything.

Thinking I had the evening to myself, I’d pulled on a pair of plaid boxers and a threadbare gray T-shirt with the number seventeen on the front. This was my standard sleepwear, and until ten seconds ago, my dress code had been perfect for the party of two in my apartment: me and a pizza. I couldn’t do much about my ponytail or the fact I’d already scrubbed my makeup off, but at the very least I could change my clothes and make myself presentable. I started to run for my apartment, but then Cade appeared on the stairs, chin lifted, hand wrapped around the railing, scowl on his face. He was angry. I wasn’t sure what to do with angry Cade. The safest route would be to send him away. But when I thought about that, I wondered who he’d talk to if not me. Did he have anyone to talk to? I didn’t. It was the first time I’d considered what we had in common. Instead of fleeing to my apartment, I waited, arms crossed, while he completed the final trek up the stairs. On the landing he greeted me with silence and an infuriated expression. His sandy-colored eyebrows were so low his eyes were in shadow. I felt them as they grazed me from head to toe. Tingles chased down my arms and legs, but before I could become inappropriately transfixed on his mouth, those lips pursed and Cade Wilson said the last two words I thought I’d ever hear him say. He stumbled over the F, dragging it out a few beats, but the message was crystal clear. “Fffix me.”

Cade Tonight at Oak & Sage I did exactly what Devlin had asked of me. I kept to myself, kept my fists to myself, and ignored both the knucklehead on the salad bar and Hamilton’s prodding. I understood. In the hierarchy of the restaurant, I was the lame one of the herd. To establish dominance and keep the pecking order intact, they needed to treat me like a lesser member of society. It didn’t make my life easier. Especially when Hamilton put one meaty paw on my shoulder and blew me a kiss. I doubted Hamilton was gay. More likely he was trying to get a rise out of me. Tempting, but I needed my job, and I was taking Devlin at his word. He’d fire me if I overreacted. Hamilton had to know that. And he was trying to get me fired as quickly as possible. So I didn’t react. I tamped it down and gritted through the shift, the name-calling, and when I was done, all that anger resurfaced as I turned over the things I could’ve said. I wished I could’ve said. I drove to Tasha’s apartment like a bat out of hell, running on bottled anger. I had no idea what to do with the emotions running through me like lava. Such were the circumstances that ended with me standing in her apartment building’s hallway. Her prim brows rose while I tried my level best to keep my eyes above her neck. She was wearing…almost nothing. I was lucky I managed the two words I did when she opened the door. Now my tongue was spot-welded to the roof of my mouth.

“Hi.” Her blue eyes swam over me, probably looking for any sign of injury, or maybe someone else’s blood. I must have looked and sounded as pissed off as I felt. “Are you all right?” I was, now that I was looking at a pair of smooth, tanned thighs curving out of a short pair of boxers. I’d seen Tasha in dresses before, but she wore knee-high boots with them. And her skirts were never as short as those boxers. I caught a flash of hot pink as she backed toward her open apartment door. I glanced down to her bare toes and hot pink nail polish. It was the second sexiest part of her. Don’t even get me started on the super-thin shirt. “Cade?” After a few false starts at trying to say the word “fine,” I went with “yeah” instead. She lifted her ponytail, revealing the length of her neck. I tried, honest to God, I tried, but I couldn’t resist dipping my eyes down to her chest. Two of the most perfect nipples were tickling the threadbare fabric of her T-shirt. I wanted to know what color they were. My mouth watered. She dropped her arms and crossed them over her breasts. A second later I heard a peeved “Excuse me.” Realizing I was staring, I jerked my eyes away from her breasts. Because nipples. Seriously. Help me. “I guess I should invite you in to talk.” She threw a dismissive hand in the air and the movement jiggled parts of her I was desperately trying not to focusing on. “Or mime. Whatever.” She turned and walked inside. A stir of interest came from my pants at the sight of her round ass in those shorts. I sent a gaze toward the open staircase, figuring it would be best if I turned around and left. But my alternative was going home by myself. Playing video games or fucking around online. Unless Paul was awake and wanted to talk about everything or, worse, nothing. A heart-to-heart with my dad was not my idea of a fun night. So I followed her inside. Her place was freaking nice. When Dev had given me the address, courtesy of Rena, who recited it without argument, he’d never mentioned Tasha lived in a swanky apartment. Made my makeshift bungalow above my dad’s garage look like I’d carved two squares into the side of a box. The living room and kitchen were both gray, with black flat-front cabinets in the kitchen and an island with a stainless steel sink in the center. I turned my head to take in her thirdfloor view, impressed by the spacious balcony and her furniture. There was no hand-medown anything in here. Her L-shaped couch was deep charcoal, the pillows a soft pink color that reminded me of her skin tone. I was out of place here. Especially in my uniform for Oak & Sage. I stepped up to the kitchen counter and tried to look more relaxed than I felt. “Pizza in ten minutes. Interested?” She turned on the oven light and peeked in. I was starving. I’d come straight from work. After bottling my anger rather than taking it

out on Hamilton’s face, my mood had been thoroughly soured. As I watched Tasha sip wine, her breasts flirting with the cotton shirt, I considered my mood had now gone the same direction as my dick. Up. Way up. “Wine?” she offered. I grimaced. “No, I guess you aren’t a wine guy, are you?” she said to herself. She pulled open the fridge —a fancy stainless steel double-doored monster—and murmured, “Let’s see…What do former prelaw frat boys drink?” I swallowed a smile, my first of the evening, and rested my hands on the kitchen island. This room was huge for an apartment. My entire living space would fit in the front room. Much as I wanted to dislike her for giving me hell about my college past, I sort of liked her ribbing me for it. “Hmm,” she hummed, her head hidden behind the refrigerator door. “I don’t seem to have a keg in here. And I’m fresh out of Mad Dog.” She pulled her head out and shot over a smile that disarmed me…save the sword in my pants. That fucker was fully armed. I adjusted myself when she turned around and tried to think of anything but my physical needs. Or that I was ridiculously attracted to Tasha Montgomery. It was much more convenient when I’d foolishly believed I could get her into my bed for one night. Now getting in her pants would require us seeing each other afterward. I tried to make that sound bad in my head, but couldn’t. “Fancy beer is all I have.” She came out with a bottle and handed it to me. “I don’t even drink it, but I thought if someone came over, it’d be polite to have options.” She shrugged, looking sad for a moment. My heart lurched. I didn’t like when Tasha looked sad. “Anyway. Hope you like IPAs.” One eyebrow tilted. “Extra bitter. Kind of like you.” And she was back. I felt another smile take my mouth, which shocked the hell out of me after the night—the last two nights—I’d had. I reached for the corkscrew, flipped it around to the bottle opener on the end, and cracked the lid off the beer. I took a generous sip as Tasha watched me curiously. Maybe hopefully. Little did she know, I wasn’t all PBR all the time. I could drink a beverage not served out of a red Solo cup. “You’re welcome.” She lifted her wineglass, then added, “You have a dimple.” She’d noticed. Interesting. She pointed at her own cheek and smiled. No dimples for her. “Yours made a rare appearance just now.” That’s when the air charged between us. There was sexual tension hovering in the room, and it wasn’t only coming from me. It was in the way she darted her eyes from mine, in the soft pink hue that stole her cheeks. No matter what, I was going to convince her to let me have a taste of that mouth before I left. “So, what needs fixing?” she asked.

My shoulders deflated at the reminder of my shortcoming. I took another generous drink of my beer, then pointed at my mouth and made a few circular motions. This. All of this. She nodded, no judgment in her expression. “Okay.” She wasn’t surprised. “You’re finally ready to work?” Even without makeup, she was gorgeous. No jewelry. Hell, practically no clothes. I couldn’t get over how relaxed and open she looked. It was nice to see her not fretting over her appearance. “Lucky for you,” she said with a sigh as she dug hot pads from a drawer, “I read a few books on speech therapy over the last week.” She canceled the timer that was ten seconds from beeping, opened the oven door, and jolted when I sidled up next to her and put my palm on her hip. I loved hearing her surprised gasp, mostly because it made me wonder if that intake of breath was only out of surprise, or if she would sound that way if I kissed her neck. What sound would she make if I licked a trail from her neck to her earlobe, then suckled? I slid my hand from her hip to her arm and took the hot pads from her. She backed away and I pulled out the pizza stone, holding a giant pizza, cheese browned and bubbled to perfection. The spicy scent of sausage, onions, and green peppers hit my nostrils and my stomach growled. I slid the pizza onto the stovetop as Tasha retrieved a round slicer from one of two million drawers in the kitchen. I didn’t know how the hell she found anything in here. As she went to work gliding the cutter over the pizza in even triangles, she asked, “When did you want to start? After dinner?” “N-no.” My eyelids sank closed in frustration. I was exhausted as it was. And being forced to communicate when it was already taxing was futile. The pizza and beer and hanging with Tasha sounded better than tripping over my tongue for the next hour. The thought made me think of her tongue. Hers was a tongue I’d like to trip over, repeatedly. Earn a few more of those gasps or a moan or two. I wondered what she liked and if I could deliver. That was a challenge I was up for. She didn’t acknowledge my stutter or press me about what had happened at the restaurant tonight. I was glad. A moment later she handed me a plate and a cloth napkin and offered a fork that I waved off. I thought of my own kitchenette, my elf-sized sink and the one cabinet, and my fridge that looked like a mini-me of hers. I didn’t think I had more than one fork, and that one I’d stolen out of the main kitchen. Tasha corralled me in the living room. We ate and drank and didn’t talk. She flipped through a magazine while chatting about the test she thought she’d failed, as the music on her iPod alternated between slow rock and bouncy pop. I finished my pizza and went back for a third slice, listening and liking the sound of her voice. The anger saturating me on the way here evaporated by the time I uncapped my second beer. I knew it wasn’t courtesy of the alcohol that I had come down about seventy notches.

It was Tasha.

Chapter 6 Tasha I climbed in my Beamer and pointed it toward the Wilson residence, Nurse Tunstill’s words echoing in my head. Moira couldn’t have been less enthusiastic if I’d asked her to eat a bowl of live earthworms. I’d gone to her home, address courtesy of Veronica, to ask her for her insight on Cade. Or what little she’d gleaned before she’d stormed out of the Wilson house and left me to take over. Moira Tunstill was a large German woman whose scowl appeared permanently etched on her aging brow. I wasn’t surprised that Cade hadn’t liked her—she was probably like looking into a mirror for him. What I didn’t fully comprehend was how he’d scared her off. The woman was thoroughly unshakable. I mentioned Cade and “fixing him,” and to my surprise, Moira listened. Much like her former patient, her words were few. Finally she let me in on this gem: “Mental,” she’d said in her thick accent. “Wilson’s problems, mental.” I thanked her and scuttled out of her house, teeth still aching from the hard-as-a-rock cookies she’d served. The word “mental” had been clattering around in my head as I drove on autopilot. What if she was right? What if Cade’s being tongue-tied was in his head? An emotional state rather than a physical one? The doctors at the hospital had been quick to point out a brain injury, and while I was far from a doctor, I hadn’t seen Cade have any motor skill issues. He’d physically recovered at warp speed, and given the progress he’d made on the car and his video game prowess in the previous months, I hazarded a guess his hand-eye coordination wasn’t lacking. The only issue existing now was the gap between the words he wanted to say and the words he attempted to say. I had a feeling there was more going on in his head than the one- to three-word responses he managed. When he showed up at my house the other night he’d said the word “fix” with a hesitant F. We ate pizza and listened to music, and I talked about school. He slid me a smile every once in a while, or interjected with the occasional “yeah” of agreement. It’d been a while since I spent time with a guy doing anything nonsexual. My ex wasn’t much for conversation. Maybe that was why when I saw Cade out, walking him to the front door, my eyes had zoomed to his lips. Vixen that I was, my mind on the almost kiss at the restaurant, my hand had curled around the doorknob, wishing he’d lean close again, because this time, there would be no interruption. Instead, he’d spoken three words: “See you, Tasha,” and each syllable was as

plain as day. No kiss. No more conversation. He’d left after that. I turned onto his street and parked in the driveway. Cade and I had decided to do our usual session today, but on the drive over I’d been admiring the sunshine and warm breeze, and decided to experiment with environment. Yes, our session would happen outside of his room today. Maybe the disconnect was his house. Was living at home holding him back? Only one way to find out.

Cade Tasha entered the main kitchen, her smile bright, a big, dark pair of sunglasses hiding her eyes. “I wondered where you were when I didn’t find you in your new room.” Because there was no food in my new room, I’d wandered in here. I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ll need a jacket,” she said. What is she talking about? She flipped her keys into her palm and continued grinning. She might not have dimples, but she was damn cute when she grinned. I’d just climbed out of the shower and was wearing my typical wardrobe of sweats and a sleeveless tee. She’d caught me eating a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies I’d found in the freezer. Sorry, Dad. Finders, keepers. Her eyes went to my sock-covered feet. “But you will need shoes.” Before I could ask where we were going, or wait for an answer, she snatched the cookie out of my hand and ate it in one bite. With her cheeks filled to chipmunk capacity, she pointed to the front door. I fought a smile and lost. Tasha tipped her head, sending her honey-blond hair over her shoulder. Then she followed that head tip behind her to the garage, leaving me alone and so curious I couldn’t stand it. Sleeve of cookies in hand, I blinked at the now-empty space on the other side of the counter where she’d stood a second ago. I woke up in a shitty mood today, regretting my stammered request of “Fix me” from last night. I was hoping she’d forget I said that and we could go back to our former routine of her doing homework and me watching her. I could likely get away with never speaking again. I mean, who cared if I did? There wasn’t much talking required in the field of “head busboy” or car mechanic, so I figured I’d be good. No such luck, apparently. I polished off the last cookie, crumpled the plastic wrapper, and dropped it into the trash can. I exited into the garage and spotted Tasha at the steering wheel of her shiny silver Z4. Waiting for me. I liked that as much as I liked her gleaming car. I wondered if I played her little game whether she’d let me take it for a spin today. I watched her head bob to music I couldn’t hear, just knowing it was some stupid pop bubblegum crap. In spite of myself, the corner of my mouth curved. She was cute when she was rocking out to pop bubblegum crap.

Last night I’d chuckled at her for listening to a One Direction song. Good thing I couldn’t talk, or else she would have been curious about how I knew it was One Direction. See? Not speaking wasn’t so bad. Except when I had questions about her life. School. What turned her on—and not sexually, though, yeah, also sexually—but I wanted to know what she was into. What made her eyes go bright and her smile beam? There was a huge communication gap between us. Between me and everyone I knew, actually, but the one between Tasha and me bothered me most. The sun was out, the spring day beckoning. Even guys like me were beckoned on occasion. Not so much by chirping birds as the shine glinting off that Beamer. Damn, but she drove a nice-ass car. A minute and a half later, I had pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and slipped my feet into running shoes. I shut the garage door and climbed into the Z4’s passenger seat, adjusting it since my knees were currently under my chin. A soft giggle came from my driver. Tasha smiled prettily, her pink glossed lips parting ever so slightly. She threw the car into gear, and as she backed down the driveway said, “You smell good.” So did she. The whole car, actually. New-car smell intermingled with Tasha’s strawberriesand-flowers scent. The seats were buttery leather, the dash smooth wood dotted with black buttons with orange lights. I fiddled with the radio while she hung a left, then a right, before navigating onto the highway. It was frustrating not knowing where we were headed. More frustrating watching her underutilize the fine automobile she drove. I mean, seriously. A hundred questions entered my head about everything from the alloy wheels to the suspension. Whether or not this baby had turbo. My skin itched from how badly I wanted to know. Another pro of speaking, I thought as I chalked up an invisible hash mark. “Yours?” I managed after she switched lanes. I knew the Z4 was new, but I had no idea if it was hers or if her father let her borrow it. “The car?” she asked. I pressed a button and an interior light came on. I clicked it off. “My father bought it for me a month ago. I was scared to drive it at first, but I’m getting the hang of it.” No she wasn’t. I winced as she ground a gear. I shook my head and popped open the glove compartment. In it I found a brochure describing the seat color as “champagne.” There was also a steering wheel warmer. I leaned forward and flipped it on, then off. I saw a button for voice command on the wheel, but that was more of a hindrance than a feature for me. “Help yourself,” she said as I poked more buttons. I continued familiarizing myself with her unbelievably expensive vehicle while she drove. “I don’t know everything this car does yet. But I did preset my radio stations.” Of course she had. I put the brochure away and slid my eyes to the speedometer. She was going sixty miles per hour. It was criminal to drive this car below eighty-five. I licked my lips, preparing to speak. Moved my tongue around my palate once, twice.

“Wuh-where are we going?” Damn. “I’m so glad you asked,” she said without looking over. She changed lanes, not as smoothly as I would’ve, and as a result the car jerked and wobbled. My heart thrummed. I couldn’t picture the accident exactly, but some part of my physiology remembered it. The wiggle of her car’s wheels on the road was enough to make my teeth hurt from a phantom impact. Made me want to ask her pull over and let me drive instead. Sitting in the driver’s seat would make me feel better, more in control. “I’m super excited to try a few new things today with your therapy,” she said over the music. She smiled over at me and I rolled my eyes. Yippee. “Outdoor therapy,” she said. Therapy. I hated that word. Made the vision of the bird with a broken wing persist. It had been bad enough when I was literally broken, but my bones had healed. To have her see me as mentally deficient was emasculating and frustrating to no end. I huffed and glared out the window. “I’m so glad you agree.” She’d handily ignored my grunt of dissatisfaction. She pulled into the parking lot of the Ridgeway Art Museum a few minutes later and unbuckled her seatbelt. I followed suit. “How’s your hand?” she asked. I flexed my fingers. Shrugged. I wasn’t interested in talking more today. My heart was pounding extra hard against my ribs. Sounded like a damn drum in my ears. She grasped my hand, her slender fingers cool. I flicked my eyes to her face. To her blond hair, which looked as if it’d absorbed the sun, to her fair brows pinched over her nose. Then to the bow of her lips, pursed in thought. I had a full-blown crush on my therapist. “Today I’m going to do as you asked last night. We’re going to work on fixing you,” she announced cheerfully. Fixing me. Her soothing tone, the sympathy in her eyes, and my own creeping anxiety sent me out of the car like it had caught fire. A shake rattled my arms as I imagined her asking me to try to speak and my failing miserably. Suddenly I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to try, and fail, at doing whatever “therapy” she had in mind. I liked it better when we were having pizza. When there was music in the background. When she wasn’t looking at me like a project. Or a science experiment. I had no idea I’d slammed the car door until she shouted something about would I mind not “breaking” her car. I spun around, intending to show her I was calm, but I came face-toface with her blue-eyed fury. “You are the one who came over uninvited and asked for my help!” she shouted, poking me in the chest. “You’re acting like a child.” “You’re t-treating me l-like one!” I pulled my hands through my hair in frustration and dropped my arms, stalking off to who knew where. Not like I hung out at the art museum often. I debated going inside, but since I felt like punching something, walls covered in

priceless paintings might not be the best backdrop for my rage. “Cade,” Tasha repeated for the fourth or fourteenth time as she chased after me across the lawn. I came to a stop in front of the fountain, a huge merman, his stone beard frozen in midbillow. I heard her approach, the scuff of her steps on the cobblestones. “It’s not going to happen overnight.” Her tone was gentle. I didn’t respond. “Well. This place is as good as any,” she said. She left me standing there. Me and the merman. I mentally asked him if he’d mind helping me out of this predicament, but his face remained stone. I was on my own. I blew out a breath and followed, meeting Tasha at her car as she emerged with a bag and a blanket. She thrust the blanket into my arms. What were we doing? Having a picnic? “Sun or tree?” she asked. When I didn’t answer, she pointed at a wide oak tree to her left, my right, then to the ground where we stood. “Pick one.” I shook out the blanket and dropped it on the ground without moving an inch, choosing the sun by default. She straightened the corners and tugged to remove the wrinkles. We were really doing this. She plopped down and began unpacking books and papers. After watching her for a solid thirty seconds, I determined that beyond stealing her car and stranding her, I was out of options. So I sat. Knees up, arms linked around them, I watched her with deep suspicion. I felt another rattle in my arms, but this one, I couldn’t identify. Like fear, but different. Hope. I’d been afraid to hope for a while. “Mouth exercises,” she said. “Think of it as working out.” Not this again. She shuffled the papers. “We’ll start with warming up your palate.” Her full lips rounded, fair eyebrows lifting over comically wide blue eyes. “Ooo,” she sounded out. I flinched. No. I sure as fuck wasn’t doing that. “Then after you do the ooo, I’m going to have you do a few puh sounds.” She demonstrated by popping her lips and saying puh, puh, puh, which was ridiculous. I was not doing that. I continued scowling at her, but my chipper therapist remained unfazed. “Come on. Do it with me.” She did the ooo thing again. I shook my head. But my eyes slid to her pursed lips and stayed there. I thought of her in the bathroom at Oak & Sage, thought about the way I’d had her pressed against the door, my lips very close to being on hers. The moment when we’d shared air and the lightning-like static between us buzzed… “At least do the puh sound with me.” She popped her lips and mine smiled. She smiled back at me but shook her head. “You are impossible.” You are beautiful, I wanted to tell her, but I also didn’t want to sound like that stuttering

guy, Ken, from A Fish Called Wanda. Really old movie. Michael Palin was one of Dad’s favorite actors. She checked the paper in her hand. “Okay, how about doing the kissing exercise instead?” Now we were talking. That sounded a hell of a lot better than making fish faces at each other. “Pucker,” she instructed, “then slide the pucker to the left, then the right. Like this.” Watching her mouth form a kiss was cute, and the Charlie Chaplin twitch she added, adorable. When her lips moved left, then right again, I smirked. Yeah, I wasn’t doing that either, but I could watch her do it all damn day. “From there we will move on to whistling”—she regarded the paper again and read from the text—“and drinking from a straw.” Drinking from a straw? What the hell was that about? She pulled a few paper-wrapped straws and a bottle of water from her bag, and I started fidgeting. I was feeling inexplicably nervous. I knew how to drink from a straw. Why did I have to demonstrate it? “Why?” I asked as she arranged them like torture implements on the blanket between us. Every once in a while, if I was sure I could get a word or two out without tripping up, I liked to stun her. T’s were not easy. Helpful, since my therapist’s name was Tasha. A hard T. Thanks, fate. Appreciate the backup. “Why…the straw?” she asked, clarifying. I nodded. “Oh. Well, it’s a great activity for the tongue and cheeks. Drinking from a straw requires flexing the cheeks and”—she pushed her thumb and forefinger into her round cheeks and pinched lightly—“pursing of the lips. And you have to tighten your tongue to suck.” Parts of me were responding to her suggestions. Coming from her supple lips, this session sounded less like therapy and a whole hell of a lot like phone sex. “Think of it as an oral workout,” she said with a genuine smile. My scowl deepened. If she kept this up, I’d sport a boner she could hang her purse from. Watching the blush dust her cheekbones was so enjoyable, I wished I could rewind her reaction and watch it again in slow motion. “Cade!” She shook her head, reprimanding me. “If that’s what you’re turning this into, I’m…Listen. You came to me. I’m doing what you asked.” Flustered. I liked that she was flustered. “I know,” I managed, and took a deep breath of relief. Nice when the words rolled off my uncooperative tongue without too much fight. “Also, smiling helps. Smile really big, then relax.” She demonstrated. Then she puffed up her cheeks and let them go. This was the most ridiculous display I’d ever seen. So why did she look so freaking cute doing it? “Don’t be nervous. Just do it.” “I’m n-…I’m n-…” I gave up. She sat on her knees, hands resting on her denim-covered legs. “Cade.” I hated the sympathy in her eyes, so I looked away. I wasn’t doing her stupid “therapy.”

Snatching up the water bottle, I twisted off the lid and took a slug. “Not all of it!” She tried to stop me. I swatted her hand away and drained every last drop down my throat. “Thanks a lot. Now what are we supposed to do with the straws?” I had a few suggestions, but as usual, I couldn’t fucking say them. I crushed the bottle and tossed it onto the blanket like a gauntlet. There. That takes care of the straws. Tasha’s eyes narrowed, coloring her features in a look of determination. I guessed she wasn’t done with me yet.

Chapter 7 Tasha What Cade didn’t realize was that I rose to meet my challenger in the face of challenge. I narrowed one eye at him, which he didn’t see, because he’d pretty much stopped looking at me completely. He was visibly nervous, his fingers twitching a frustrated rhythm on his leg. I thought of Moira’s claim that his problem was in his head, which I could concede in part. The change of scenery had done nothing to improve our odds, but when he was angry, or when his nerves got the best of him, his anxiety crept in. Then he couldn’t say anything correctly. I thought back to the time we spent together at my apartment. He had arrived angry that night too. But shortly after he’d calmed down, he was like a different person. Easygoing and— dare I say it?—relaxed. Acting like I changed my mind, I packed the straws, then the books, then the papers. He watched my movements carefully, a look of suspicion on his face. He didn’t know what I was up to. Good. Neither did I. After I cleaned up my small mess I knew what to do. I had to prove that it was not just a fluke that he could speak when he was close to me. It was the other theory I’d been harboring about his messy speech. Did I put him at ease when I was near? I scooted closer to him, all but erasing the space between us on the blanket. My heartbeat thrummed in my throat instead of my chest, where it was supposed to be. What I was about to attempt was risky. Exciting. Necessary, the type A perfectionist inside me argued. Cade was frowning, watching me warily. I gathered my courage and scootched the slightest bit closer, leaving virtually no space between us save the breath I had just taken. “I need your help,” I whispered. I expected his eyes to shutter, but he looked more curious than guarded. “We won’t use the straws. I won’t make you do silly face exercises.” I dropped my voice to what I hoped was a sensual purr, though there was no hiding the slight waver there. “I want to try something else.” His light brown eyes dashed to my lips and his pupils widened. I wondered if it was because the sun had ducked behind the clouds or because his mind had gone where mine had. “It’s purely scientific,” I said, my voice feathery. His lips flinched, and there was no doubting the hum of attraction. It practically vibrated the ground where we sat. My heart rate kicked up another notch. It wasn’t like this was going to be a hardship. He was ridiculously hot. From the arch of his top lip to his full bottom lip over an angled jaw. The front of his hair had blown over his forehead, dusting his thick brown

eyebrows. “Close your eyes,” I instructed. “And purse your lips.” His expression went from confused to bland. He shook his head. “Come on. I’ll even count to three.” Did I have him all wrong? Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me? Briefly, I considered I was using my position of power to manipulate him before dismissing that ridiculous thought. Cade couldn’t be made to do anything he didn’t want to do. Desperate, I added, “Please?” He shook his head again, but this time his lips quirked as if he were thoroughly amused. He liked to tell me no. “Fine. Keep your eyes open. On three.” “Wuh-one.” The sun came out and he squinted his eyes in challenge. I leaned in the slightest bit closer and licked my lips. “Two.” He lifted his hand, sifted my hair between his fingers, and rested one broad palm on my neck. I warmed like sparks were glinting off my skin. “Thr—” He cut the word off with his lips. Delicious, firm lips that took me under his control. What was supposed to be a light peck yielding an answer to my hypothesis was instead a solid lip-lock sending tingles over my lips and zinging across my jaw. My fingers curled, clutching uselessly at my jeans as I resisted the urge to thrust my fingertips into his hair and see if it felt as soft as it looked. He disconnected, tugging his chin away, his eyes opening and landing on mine. I was… speechless. But he wasn’t. “Three,” he said.

Cade Tasha was stunned, and to be honest, so was I. I liked stunning her. Her “kissing” exercise worked just fine. The feel of her lips imprinted in my brain, fusing every cell as if they’d melted under the heat we created from that simple closed-mouth kiss. I wondered what would happen if we added tongue. I tightened my grip on the back of her neck, giving her the opportunity to back away if she changed her mind. Then she showed the first sign of resistance, and I changed mine. I’m going in anyway. Tugging her close, I slanted my mouth over hers. A small, feminine sound squeaked in her throat and my chest unfurled like a banner. I took advantage of her reaction and deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue along hers. She tasted amazing. Sweet and perfect. Hot and wet. Not to mention that she fell into me, one hand braced on my thigh, the other on my chest— sitting there like a brand. Our tongues touched tentatively at first, then more aggressively.

Now we were moving in slow, smooth slides. She made a fist, clutching my T-shirt and tugging me closer. I liked that she pulled me closer. I liked her eagerness about as much as I liked everything else about her. I closed my eyes, the warmth of the sun on my face, the soft tickle of her hair brushing my cheek as she slanted her lips over mine. I started this kiss, but it was Tasha who had taken over. The air around us was choked with her shortened breaths, our sipping lips, and the rustle of clothing as my shirt rubbed against hers. As my jeans chafed against hers. There were way too many articles of clothes between us, and I was feeling acute regret that we hadn’t climbed the stairs to my over-the-garage bedroom instead of coming here to do some very public groping. She pulled away first this time, and really she had to be the one to pull away first, because I sure as hell wasn’t doing it. Her lips left mine with a suctioning smooch, and the best part was when her big, blue eyes hit mine. They were filled to the brim with lust. My therapist was no longer viewing me as an ill-behaved student. “Oral therapy,” I said, and slipped my palm away from her neck, letting my fingers graze her collarbone. Her skin was soft. I wondered if she was that soft everywhere. She straightened her clothes like she needed to occupy her hands now that they weren’t pawing me. Hiding. Covering. I knew the tactic well, but I didn’t want her to hide or cover. I just wanted to do it again. She cleared her throat and reached for her bag, digging out a pen and a pad of paper. I frowned. “What’re you doing?” I asked. It was her turn not to answer me. She scribbled for a while and I sat back on the blanket, my hands behind me. I looked up at the sun, watched the leaves of the trees wave in the soft breeze. A couple walked by with a dog. By the time Tasha stopped frantically jotting, I decided I wanted to know what she had to stop kissing me to write down. I snatched the journal from her hands. “Hey!” I held it out of reach when she came for me. “It probably won’t make any sense to you,” she said, making a swipe for the notebook again. I climbed to my feet and held out an arm, blocking her when she followed. Her loopy handwriting was easy to read. I understood just fine. Slight hesitation before the kiss. Able to speak a few clear words after the kiss. Enunciated TH sound in “three” without a problem. Asked a full question without any stammer or hesitation. I slapped the journal shut and turned to face her. That’s what had been going through her head while I had my lips pressed to hers? She was serious about this being an experiment. I assumed she was reacting to what was happening between us. Knowing the perceived attraction was nothing more than a tested theorem took a huge chunk out of the wobbly confidence I’d grabbed onto. Looking chagrined, Tasha stopped reaching for the journal and took to toying with a ring on one finger instead.

“Don’t be mad. I wanted to write down what I learned so I didn’t forget.” Don’t be mad? When she’d sterilized the kiss that had shaken me to the core? She’d turned me into a goddamn science experiment. I glared at her, hoping she could read the words on my face so I wouldn’t have to attempt to say them. I hadn’t been thinking about speaking earlier, and because I wasn’t thinking about it, the words had come out fine. Without stammer or hesitation. Now I was thinking about it. Hard. And she was watching and waiting. Knowing I was under her scrutiny made me even less inclined to participate in her outdoor laboratory. I handed over the journal and then opened my palm. Cradling the book, she regarded my hand. “What?” “K-keys.” Fuck. Of course. “I’m not giving you my car keys.” Her eyebrows turned down. Oh yes she was. I snapped my fingers. She folded her arms. Instead of arguing, I bent, grabbed her bag and the blanket, and started for the car. She followed, rounding to the trunk. When I heard the telltale jingle, I did what any responsible, mature adult would do…and snatched the keys out of her hand. “Hey! Give those back!” I held them out of reach, keeping hold of the blanket and her bag in my other hand. Again, not super mature, but at this point I was feeling used and irked and distractedly turned on. So, okay, yeah, I was keeping the damn keys. “Do you want me to report you for…grand theft auto?” She was cute when she was yelling at me. I used the fob to unlock her car and tossed the blanket and her bag into the trunk. She argued that I wasn’t allowed to drive her car, spouting off about how this was unfair and she was only trying to help. I could give her points for the unfair bit, and a part of me conceded that Tasha probably was only trying to help. But I wasn’t missing out on my chance to drive this baby, and she owed me one for using me. “G-get in,” I said. I don’t know if it was my fixed expression of impatience or my steely tone, but she didn’t argue. She climbed in as I was adjusting the seat and easing back into the best-smelling leather I’d ever sat my ass on. I stroked the steering wheel, flexing my fingers and taking hold of it as gently as I had Tasha’s neck during our kiss. Our fake kiss. Taking in a lungful of new-car smell, I flipped through her preset radio stations. Pop. Pop. Country. Jazz? I made a face and punched another button. Ahh, there we go. Rock. I cranked the radio—the Black Keys—and lifted an eyebrow at Tasha. She buckled her seatbelt and with delicate fingers stroked the nylon crossing her breasts. Retesting her theory, this time on my terms, I leaned across the seat and pressed my lips to

hers. One soft kiss that made me want more and caused her to let out a soft whimper of approval. Instead of giving us both what we wanted, I forced myself to pull away and focused my eyes on hers. “Let me show you what this baby can do,” I told her.

Tasha Wow. Capital W. Capital O. Capital W. My lips still hummed from the gentle kiss of reprimand Cade had given me. The throb of the drums on the radio matched my stuttering heartbeat. Was it bad that I’d noticed Cade hadn’t stuttered? I couldn’t help it. His mouth, tongue, and lips were part of my job and, as of a few minutes ago when they’d claimed me for the first time, now were part of the reason I was distracted. Focus. Right. At the museum, Cade’s amazing mouth working over mine, I was given a very big clue as to how to “fix him” as requested. Moira was half right, but I was also half right. Cade’s tongue was tense. He needed the oral exercises I’d suggested—needed to physically practice to limber the muscle that would help him create words. But underlying, dormant anxiety was also an issue. He had a mental and a physical problem. Not bad for a student who was not a speech therapist, I thought smugly as he navigated my Z4 away from the museum. The moment he let his frustration get the best of him, he lost control over his tongue and he was back to stuttering. But after that incredible kiss, one that shut my brain off and powered on my lady bits, one that had my hands grasping him as he cupped the back of my neck, he’d spoken two words perfectly. Oral therapy. I was so proud I could have kissed him. Again. Cade had adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate his longer legs. He was both tall and broad, making my powerful Z4 look delicate. Especially the grip he had on the steering wheel. Blunt, squared fingertips, nice knuckles. I’d never really looked at a guy’s hands before, but Cade had really nice ones. I let my eyes wander to the flexing of his biceps—equally nice— when he put the car into reverse, then to the tattoos on his arm—super sexy—as he punched the button for the driver’s-side window. And yes, I knew my car was ridiculous. I looked it up online and learned I was driving a sixty-thousand-dollar vehicle. Actually, with the additional satellite radio and voice command function, it was probably closer to seventy. My father had gifted it to me, and I know partly because he liked to give me expensive things, but a small, slightly paranoid part of me thought it was his way of further entrenching me in his world. He had mentioned pulling my car payments if I continued seeing Cade. I smirked over at Cade driving the car, feeling

naughty and rebellious. And, damn, that felt good. Watching him drive my Beamer smoothly out of the parking lot was fascinating, and a feat I hadn’t yet achieved. But experiencing the way my back pressed into the seat when he gunned the engine, roaring down the highway and slipping around other cars smoothly, was exhilarating. I didn’t know I was the kind of girl who found speed sexy, but with Cade at the helm—in control—all I could think of while those nice hands toyed with the Z4’s controls and kept her in check was my own body. I imagined his handling of me would be equally deft. I’d already sampled his tongue and lips, and there was no doubt in my mind that he could work them on other parts of me just as skillfully. As I imagined which parts he could be teasing with the flick of his tongue, I sighed aloud. Thankfully the radio was on, so he didn’t hear me literally moaning with pleasure at the thought of him doing wicked things to me. It wasn’t like me to need sex. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it. I liked the closeness of it. The way time had passed easily between Tony and me when we were in the zone. But since we’d broken up—and since I’d learned he was a womanizing bastard—I began to wonder if I liked having sex with him more because it pleased him and less because it pleased me. Now that I thought about it, Tony had been pretty distracted during sex. He was always admiring his own body. Flexing his biceps, showing me his abs, which were washboard, and very attractive. Every inch of his brown skin was attractive. I learned later that my ex was ugly on the inside. Cade…He was different. But he didn’t used to be, I argued with myself as I studied his healing knuckles. He used to be cocky. I’d never forget when he’d come up to me, all pomp and swagger, and addressed me as “kitten.” I mean, seriously. How sexist was that? Though when I thought back to his “oral therapy” quip, part of me wondered if my “kitten” nickname was a compliment, not the insult I’d taken it as. Tony had done a number on me by then, so I wasn’t exactly receptive when Cade approached. Maybe that “Cade train” thing was a joke…or a messed-up attempt at being charming? I watched him now, considering I hadn’t seen him as clearly before we’d spent so much time together. Not knowing him, it had been easier to plunk him into the column of “jerk” than it was now. Now that he’d kissed me and I’d kissed him, I was noticing more details about him. Cade wasn’t in 2-D any longer. “Badass,” I heard him say under the radio. A song by Disturbed came on. I loved this one. I tried not to appear surprised or excited by his sudden aptness at speaking. Was it because we had kissed…or because he was utterly blissed out driving my car? He really was in his element behind the wheel. Watching him cruise down the highway, handling my car like he’d driven it a thousand times, further reinforced that the accident on Alley Road had been just that: an accident. Black ice was the cause of that tragic event, not Cade’s lack of control.

Control. Omigod. That was it. When Cade was in control, he was able to speak. If I could get him on track mentally, and he was willing to do speaking exercises, I’d bet he’d be back to himself in no time. The ride was over too fast and he looked as disappointed as I felt when he pulled into his driveway. Two very manly hands slid over the steering wheel. I liked the way he stroked my car like she was a powerful animal he respected. I imagined being handled by Cade in the same manner. Purr. His eyes found mine as he turned off the car. I wanted more of his mouth. I wanted to explore the tension that hummed between us. Things had just gotten hella complicated. “Through?” he asked. I blinked out of the fantasy forming, sad to leave it behind. Was he asking if I was through with him? Because the answer was: not even close. “With…the session?” I asked. “We didn’t do anything.” “We did ssssomething.” He pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring with anger. The “something” he meant was the kiss, and even the elongated S didn’t kill the moment for me, not even a little. It could have been one of those cute, flirty moments—like in the movies, where he would look chagrined and I would smile—but he didn’t let it go. His hands went tight, strangling the wheel, and the muscles in his arms bunched. He was so hard on himself—beating himself up over a few misspoken letters. “I like when you talk. Whether you stammer or not,” I told him, thinking he’d appreciate my honesty. He didn’t. “Y-you like me w-weak,” he growled, then got out of the car. The entire vehicle shook when he slammed the door. I sat, flabbergasted, staring blindly at the dashboard in front of me, trying to rein in my temper. I climbed out as he tapped in the code on the garage, sending the door up. “Are you saying I get some sort of satisfaction from watching you flail?” I shouted across the driveway. “Do you think I get off on your verbal hesitations?” He sent me a scathing glare, but instead of disappearing inside, he bared his teeth and took one step closer to me as he said, “Yes.” “Well, I don’t!” I stomped over to him, my hands balled into fists as I considered pummeling him where he stood. I wasn’t an evil person. I was his friend—the only one who’d stuck around and waited on the ambulance when he was crumpled over his steering wheel bleeding all over the interior of his Audi. “Know what I like?” I asked, hurt by his accusations but also wanting him to know. I blatantly looked at his mouth. His mouth softened from that hard line and in an instant I remembered the firm yet gentle

force when he kissed me. His eyes went to my lips and I knew he was thinking about the same moment. He came the slightest bit closer, his hand wrapping around my wrist. “Yeah. I do.” I wanted the kiss his eyes promised, but then the front door opened, and the tension between us shattered. Cade dropped my wrist and took a purposeful step away from me as his dad appeared on the porch. Paul offered us an innocuous smile. “Oh, hey, guys.” Paul walked toward us, leather briefcase in hand. “Sorry. Didn’t meant to interrupt.” Cade shot him a glare before turning and leaving me behind. I watched him vanish into the murkiness of the garage and listened as the door leading to his room opened and shut. “Still nothing?” Paul asked me, sounding tired and sad. He cared about Cade. He’d screwed up, and I knew that his and Cade’s relationship was strained, but at least he was trying. Though, to be fair, now Cade was trying too. A moment ago he’d accused me of liking him weak. I hoped Paul wasn’t accidentally holding his son down for that same reason. “He’s doing much better.” So that I didn’t sound defensive, I added, “The exercises were effective, and getting out of the house helped.” I couldn’t stop the slight blush from coloring my cheeks because now I was thinking about the kiss. “Good. That’s good.” Paul pulled a set of keys from his pants pocket. “Nice car, Tasha.” “Thank you.” Cade had parked my Z4 squarely in the center of the two-car garage. “I’m in your way.” “You can move back after I leave,” he offered. “No, that’s okay. Cade and I are done for the day.” Apparently, I thought with a sigh of defeat. “I appreciate what you’re doing for him,” Paul said. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his bag and brought out a skinny envelope. “For this week.” Paul had been paying me, so the offer of a paycheck was nothing new. But now that the dynamic had shifted between Cade and me, taking money felt…wrong. “I didn’t tell you,” I said as I took a step away from the proffered payment. “The rehab center offered me full-time work.” I pasted on a grin and hoped Paul didn’t think I was being unforgivably rude. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t earn this for your services.” “I wouldn’t feel right about it.” Another step back. “Cade is my friend. And I’m not an actual speech therapist. Keep your money, Paul.” “It’s not gambling money.” His smile wavered. “Sober for sixty-five days now,” he said of his Gamblers Anonymous meetings. He’d had one setback right after the new year. Devlin told Rena and Rena told me. “No, I didn’t think that at all.” Shit. I was making this worse. “Honestly, Paul. I want to help Cade because…” Kissing him is its own reward. “Because.” I gestured to my car and offered a dab of humor I hoped would clear the awkwardness from the air. “Besides, it’s not like I’m wanting for anything.” He finally lowered the envelope. “Okay. I just don’t want your dad to assume—”

“No!” I shouted almost desperately. “He, um, you know, he doesn’t need to know about any of this. He worries about my homework even though I’m getting straight A’s.” I tacked that last part on with a sweet smile. I’m not quite in “straight A” territory, but one C-minus isn’t going to prevent me from graduating. “I told him Cade was cured and I’d done my job.” Also a lie. I clasped my hands in front of me. “So you can imagine what he’d say if this got back to him.” Paul sucked in a breath of his own, and I could tell his newly sprouted conscience was eating at him. “Fair enough.” Paul tucked the envelope back into his briefcase. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.” That was nice to hear. Paul walked into the garage and I headed back to my car. But as I ducked to slide into the driver’s seat, I noticed Cade standing at his window, his eyes on me, his expression unreadable. Shit. He’d seen me decline the money for his therapy. Which left me open and exposed. Unless he thought I was doing this out of charity and not because my morals had been recently turned upside down. I simply couldn’t allow Paul to pay me when I would spend time with Cade for free.

Chapter 8 Tasha “Do you think I should have accepted it?” I had just told Rena about the awkwardish interaction between Paul Wilson and me. Oak & Sage hadn’t opened yet. I had texted Rena ahead of time and found out Cade wasn’t there. I hadn’t spoken to him all week. She was currently looking at me like I’d lost my mind. Rena lifted an eyebrow. “I’m probably the wrong person to ask if you should have accepted an envelope full of cash, given that I accepted one not too long ago for that one.” She hoisted a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in the general direction of Devlin, who was bustling around the restaurant preparing to open. “It wasn’t cash.” I rolled my eyes. “No one gambles anymore. It’s gauche.” We shared a smile. “Well, why didn’t you take it?” Rena didn’t know about the kiss yet. “It’s not as if you haven’t earned it. Not as if you haven’t been fitting in Cade’s therapy between a full class load and another job.” “I know. But Cade and I have become…friends.” I scrunched up my face. That word still felt like the wrong definition for whatever it was we had between us. Because we weren’t really “friendly,” but that kiss had been far more than friendly. “No, but it makes me uncomfortable. Especially after…” Since I hadn’t told her about the kiss at the museum yet or my hypothesis, I decided now was the time. I looked over my shoulder. A hostess rolled silverware at a nearby table, but I didn’t see anyone else. When I turned back to Rena, she was leaning over the bar, her fingers laced together. My rapt audience. “Especially after what?” she asked, her voice lilting. Since she’d recently harbored her own sexy secret, it was right of her to suspect me. “Especially after he kissed me.” I said the last three words in a whisper. Rena’s jaw dropped. Then she grinned. “I knew it. Tell me everything.” “Well, I took him to the museum, thinking we would try the straw thing. Thanks, by the way, for those.” It was Rena who’d given me a handful of wrapped straws when I told her my idea. “Let me guess. He skipped the straw and sucked on your tongue instead?” “Rena!” She erupted into giggles. Rena wasn’t a giggler, so the sound made me smile. “I honestly tried to get him to do the exercises. But he drank all my water.” I demonstrated the ooo and puh exercises he’d refused to do next. Rena made an unpleasant face. “You really expected him to do that?”

“If he ever wants to speak clearly again,” I said defensively. “This is standard stuff.” “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Rena straightened and held out a hand in surrender. “So when that didn’t go over, you decided to do a different kind of exercise.” She waggled her eyebrows. Geez. Sex on the brain. “At first it was purely scientific.” Could I have sounded any more full of crap? She smiled confirming that, no, I couldn’t. “I visited one of his former speech therapists. She believes a lot of his problems are in his head.” Rena considered this. “I guess that makes sense. He and Devlin were pretty stunned when they found out they were related last year. Add to that Paul’s addiction, the car accident. Sonny getting busted,” she said of Devlin’s former bookie employer. “I believe the exercises will help him, if I can get him to do them. I told him I wanted to try an experiment, but he didn’t let me initiate.” Despite myself, I was grinning broadly when I said, “He started counting, then didn’t let me get to three before he pulled me in.” “How was it?” “It worked,” I announced proudly. “He was able to speak without a stutter after the kiss. Which tells me—” “No, Tasha.” She gripped my arm and tipped her head, sending her dark ponytail over one shoulder. “How was it?” I knew that’s what she was asking. I was trying to deflect. “Electric,” I answered on a breath. In a dreamy voice she said, “Oh, I love those. Especially when you don’t know what’s coming next.” I blushed as I thought about what had come next. More kissing. Tongues sliding. My fist gripping his shirt as I tugged his body closer to mine… If I hadn’t had a complete nerdgasm and whipped out my journal to jot down my findings, we could’ve made out on that blanket for the rest of the afternoon. That would’ve been nice, I thought with a pinch of regret. And then I wouldn’t have had to turn down Paul’s envelope, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that Cade had seen me refuse it. “Don’t tell Devlin.” A futile request, given the fact that she probably told him everything. “Don’t tell me what?” “Nothing,” I said when Devlin materialized seemingly out of nowhere. “Cade and Tasha made out at the art museum today, and now she won’t let Paul pay her for her therapy since her sessions will soon include sex,” Rena said. “Rena!” Devlin blinked at his girlfriend, then at me. “Well. This has trouble written all over it.” “It’s no one’s business but ours.” I sent a glare at Rena that she returned with a smile. “Thanks a lot, friend.” “Devlin finds out everything.” She hoisted an eyebrow and sent him a saucy glance. “He has a way of making me talk.” Devlin’s smile was somewhere between sinister and dopey. My heart swelled in spite of

being made fun of. Their being together was really growing on me. “I should get going.” I slid off the barstool and shouldered my purse. “Devlin, promise me you won’t say anything to Cade or Paul.” He pursed his lips in thought. “You owe me.” I didn’t usually call in favors, but Devlin did owe me. He never would have pulled his head from his ass and gone back to Rena if it hadn’t been for my poking him with a stick. He owed me his happiness, dammit. And so did my best friend. “Rena?” “We promise.” When Devlin opened his mouth, probably to argue with her, she held up a hand to stop him. “It’s none of our business that those two are about to get it on like monkeys, Dev.” A smile twitched on his lips and I growled in the back of my throat, leaving in my wake a ripple of laughter from my so-called friends. But once I stepped outside into the sun, I realized their laughter was contagious. I was smiling too. Because getting it on with Cade wasn’t a bad visual to start my day with. — There were not enough capital letters on the planet to express the ire I felt after my stupid pathophysiology class. Two of my former friends shared that class with me, but since Tony had kissed one and slept with the other, we no longer confided in one another. I pecked a text into my cell, my thumbs blurring over the touch screen. Hell hath a name and it is Dr. Shonram’s class! 50 min of my life I’ll never get back!! I added a row of angry orange emojis, sent the text to Rena, and then waited. Nothing. I figured she was neck deep in beer bottles, given it was a Friday night. Great for her tip jar, but terrible for me. It left me with no one to bitch to. And yeah, we sort of snapped at each other earlier, but we had texted since. It didn’t take long to reclaim our rightful BFF status. We liked and respected each other too much to let Cade Wilson or Devlin Calvary come between us. I hesitated over my phone for a moment, cleaning the fingerprints from the screen with the edge of my shirt. Before I overthought it, I typed a text to Cade and sent it. I’d only typed one word—Hey—and now it sat on my screen, looking back at me lamely. My heart pounded. Rain pelted my windshield, just a few drops. I watched the water gather and blot out the scenery beyond, and decided to go to my apartment and tell my worries to a glass of wine and a bubble bath rather than sit here in the parking lot and rehash my miserable day to myself via unreturned text messages. Before I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, it beeped. Cade had texted me back. Hey. Sup? Sup? Was he serious? Heading home from class, I texted back. I waited and wondered if he’d respond. Then I swallowed every ounce of my pride and typed in, Want to go out for a drink? I watched for the bubble signifying he was typing a response. It didn’t come. Then it did. I

chewed on my lower lip and waited for his answer to pop up. Why did I feel so desperate for him to say yes? Maybe it was because things were unresolved between us. I hated when things were unresolved. Can’t, came Cade’s reply. My chest deflated. There was my answer. The kiss had been one-sided. My refusal of Paul’s payment an act of desperation. I should have known— Stranded. I stared at that one word and considered what he meant by that. Car probs? I typed. A guess. Come here. Anticipation zinged through my bloodstream and echoed through my bones at those two commanding words. I could go to him. Unload the stress about my stupid class on him. If we were friends— having thought about that again, it was the best descriptor for what we were—then I should be able to sit and have a conversation with him. Plus, the benefit to Cade’s not being much of a talker was that he was a really good listener. Going over to his house for an impromptu visit wouldn’t be that much different from any other session. Except I’d be tempted to kiss him again. I scrunched my eyes closed and decided I would absolutely not overthink. Nope. I’d go with the flow. Channel my inner Rena and do it because it was fun. Of course, on the way I’d drive safely and obey traffic laws. I was still me, after all. Who knew what would happen when I arrived? Maybe he’d be moody and I’d vent about my class, and no one would kiss anyone. Maybe he’d work on his exercises without complaint. Maybe he’ll work on me. Oh, boy. This was such a bad idea. But it couldn’t be all bad, given that I was smiling and excitedly anticipating my evening, right? I sent one final text to Cade—Be there in 10—then put my car in gear and left campus. I didn’t want to give him too much credit, but the knowledge that I was going to get to see him did introduce a zing of exhilaration. I noticed I was speeding and eased my foot off the gas pedal. It was raining and the roads were slick. Hey, only one risk at a time.

Cade The skies had opened up since Tasha texted me. In my room above the garage, part of the roof had sprung a leak. Well, more of a drip. I slid the bucket under it, listening to the pat pat pat sound as I sent Tasha a quick text letting her know to meet me in the main house. Then I jogged across the dim garage, past my car—the only vehicle in it—and into the kitchen.

Rain slid down the windows and blew the trees. I stood at the front door, worriedly watching the weather and picturing Tasha’s fancy BMW getting whipped around. I regretted suggesting she come over. Her safety was the only reason for my regrets, though. Every other part of me itched to see her. Even after I watched her refuse to take my dad’s payment for our “therapy.” I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d given up on me, or what. Then when I hadn’t heard from her this week, I decided that, yeah, she’d given up on me. Her text was surprising, and my text back was a test. Would she come to me if I asked? After the way she’d run cold—and arguably I’d deserved it for my attitude—I had to know if she was still interested. If maybe, just maybe, she’d refused my dad’s money because she wanted to kiss me a few more times. My 1969 Camaro worked fine, by the way. A white lie to see if she’d accept my invitation. When I won that round, I’d punched the air in triumph. Now I wished I’d gone to her instead. No way should she be out in this mess. I was a skilled driver—more skilled than her—and I handled shitty weather better than she did. That wasn’t a sexist accusation, just the truth. Driving was a skill I’d honed. She merely climbed into a car to get her from points A to B. A branch from the tall ash tree in our front yard thwacked the porch and snapped in half. It might as well have smacked me in the back of the head for the crap I’d pulled to get Tasha here. Dammit. I should have told her to go home. She’d be safer there. Out of the rain? Or away from you? I lifted my phone to call her to ask if she was okay, stutter be damned, when headlights slashed across my wet street through the deluge. I yanked open the front door, ran to her, and pressed my lips to hers as the pounding rain soaked us… In my head. In reality I stood gripping the doorknob, swearing under my breath that I lacked the balls to do that whole Nicholas Sparks scene in my head. Yes, I knew who Nicholas Sparks was. I wasn’t a total dick. Tasha parked and darted across the driveway, her bag held over her head. She stepped around me and into the threshold as lightning split the sky. The day had been warm, still was warm, the rain creating more humidity rather than cooling it down. I shut the door and took her dripping bag out of her hand as Tasha pushed her hair over her shoulders, splattering my shirt with rainwater. “Wow. So, it’s raining.” She gave me a nervous smile as she swiped the hollows of her eyes. Was she nervous because I knew she was no longer on the clock? Or maybe she was nervous because she knew I wanted to attack her and have her pliant and moaning against me. “Is your dad at work?” she asked, her eyes darting around the house. I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice. And now that I thought about it, maybe I should have warmed up with a couple of vocal exercises before she got here. I should’ve practiced a few of those sounds while looking in the mirror to see if I looked as stupid as I thought I might. “I hope he doesn’t get caught in the storm.” She sent a worried look out the window and I

realized I’d have to tell her sometime. “Ow—” I started, then closed my eyes and pulled in a breath. “Out of town.” Paul had gone to see a client in Michigan. Or so he said. He’d been sneaky lately, spending more time out of the house than here. I couldn’t help wondering if there was an underlying reason for his absence other than Veri-tech’s quarterly taxes. Once she’d inventoried what she could see of the empty house, those blues landed on mine. Then a specific brand of calm curled inside my chest. I didn’t trust that sensation, but it only happened with Tasha, and only happened recently. I liked the way it felt far too much to question it. “Drink?” I asked. No stutter. Nice. Maybe if I viewed this as a game, it’d be fun. I mentally chalked one point into the “Me” column. “No, thanks. I mean, I don’t know. I’m not sure how long I’m staying. I’m not sure why I texted you.” She frowned and so did I. I didn’t like that she didn’t know why she’d texted me. Not that I expected her to say she missed me, but it would’ve been nice to hear. “I had a crappy day at school. I guess I needed someone to talk to.” Her shoulders drooped in defeat. A laugh shook my chest. I couldn’t help myself. She wanted to talk so she came to the guy who didn’t? Not much struck me as funny, but that irony did. Catching on that I was laughing with, not at, her, she grinned up at me. She was dripping wet and damn beautiful. Watching the water pool at her feet made my imagination go wild. I pictured her in the shower, those rivulets running down her bare breasts instead of into the neck of her shirt. I dropped her bag on the rug by the door, took her hand, and led her to a half bath bisecting the foyer. Inside, I pulled a towel out of the closet and unfolded it. She held out a hand that I ignored. Dropping the terry cloth on top of her head, I began to scrub. “No,” came her muffled voice from under the towel. Her hands came out to stop mine. “I have fine hair and you’re tangling it.” I removed the towel and she carefully tried to arrange her hair. Rather than scrub vigorously, she ran her fingers through the strands and squeezed the water out with the towel. Watching her move had me in a trance. The way her fingers gingerly separated the knots. The way she bent to slide the towel down her bare legs and arms. I was transfixed. “Since I’m here, I guess we could have our session tonight instead of next week.” Her pragmatism and her work-as-usual attitude snapped me out of the sensual fantasy of her in my shower. I willed my thoughts back to the kiss at the museum, the way she clung to me as I slid my tongue along hers. With my dad out for the weekend, we had the house to ourselves. I figured we could do another kind of therapy while we were at it. The lyrics to Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” tumbled through my brain and I shook my head, having no idea where or when I had heard that song. Then I remembered. And frowned. Brooke played it once.

“I have my speech books with me,” Tasha said. “And the straws. If I can talk you into trying things my way.” “We d-did them yuh-your way.” Crap. Two points for the stutter demon. She either didn’t care or didn’t notice. Okay, she probably noticed, and probably cared only from the standpoint of wanting to help me. The interesting thing was that whenever I tried to be a silver-tongued fox again, she missed the attempt. It would be nice if I could get a positive response from a girl the way I was now. Getting a response from this girl would be the best. “What do you think?” She propped her hands on her hips, and that’s when I noticed she was chilled in the cooler air of my house. I tried to keep from it, but my gaze trekked to her nipples pressing against her RU T-shirt. “Do you mind?” She thrust the towel at me and I accepted it, following her out of the bathroom. “Not at a-all,” I mumbled. In the kitchen I opened the fridge and made an executive decision. I pulled out two beers instead of one. To my surprise, she accepted the other bottle when I offered. “Sure, why not? After my day, I need it.” She slid onto one of the stools at the island and drank as I took a few deep gulps from mine. Watching her delicately sip from a longneck could be the highlight of my evening…but I hoped not. If I had my way—and I would as soon as I took her mind off treating me—I’d be making out long and slow with her. I could use another bite of that bottom lip. “Oh, hey, I know what we could try.” She smiled and I became instantly worried. “Singing.” “Ssssinging.” Shit. Three to one. I was losing. “Not really singing, but one of the warm-ups involves a tongue exercise and you do this: la la la la la la.” “That’s singing,” I forced out, then gave myself two points. Tied. Her smile was pretty, almost flirty. She pulled in a breath to speak, but I didn’t feel like being a patient. So I palmed her hand, and when she met my eyes, I tipped my head toward the big gray sofa in the living room. She slid from the stool but dropped my hand to snag her pack and bring it with her. Not what I wanted, but at least she followed. We sat on the couch, and when she put the pack between us, I moved it to the floor and patted the cushion between us. “What are you—?” “You c-came to tuh-talk.” I swallowed and pushed out my request. “Talk.”

Chapter 9 Cade She let me have it. I listened, content to sit back into the arm of the couch and watch her talk with her hands, gesturing at nothing. Her frustrations about her teacher and friends were all things I could relate to. I’d had some a-hole teachers, and I’d also been involved with mutinous friends who turned on me. Though, if I were being fair, they probably saw me as the mutineer, and technically that was accurate. The part I didn’t like, the part that made anger climb my spine like a knotted rope, was that her friends had ditched her because of her ex. I hated that guy. I hated more the way she talked about him with a forlorn look in her eyes. I hoped it wasn’t because she was still in love with him. She definitely had been hurt by him. The sting of it showed in her slumped posture when she brought him up. “Every time I see him, I’m reminded I wasn’t good enough to keep him, you know?” She asked that question to her lap, shoulders curled. Then she snapped her gaze to mine, eyes going wide. Pretty sure she hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go into the Tony stuff. I guess I was on a roll.” Spunky Tasha looked uncharacteristically fragile, and I was so unused to that look on her, I lifted my hand and brushed her jaw with the backs of my fingers. Her eyes closed and she blew a soft breath into my face. She smelled like peppermint candy and beer. I leaned in for a taste, and she had to have felt the cushion between us depress, but Tasha kept her eyes closed. Mine were open and watching as the beautiful girl on my couch leaned closer to me. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. It was a heady realization. Our lips touched, and just as my hand came up to cradle her head—just before I slid my tongue along hers—a high-pitched wail pierced the air. Siren. She jerked away and I blinked, dazed, as my brain chugged into gear. Eyes wide, she gripped my arm. “Is that the tornado siren?” Yup. It was. Outside the kitchen window, the wind whipped leaves and rain against the glass. Tasha shook, her hand around my arm tightening as a small, helpless sound left her throat. Another instinct flooded me. This one, to protect her. I snatched her pack, knowing she’d worry about it if I didn’t, and clasped her hand as I led her out of the room. She held on to me while I navigated the basement stairs. The house was a newer build, and since my father wasn’t much of a handyman, the room down here was not finished. The previous owners never bothered, and despite my mom’s—er, Joyce’s—insistence

that she wanted a rec room, it hadn’t happened. A sound like rocks pinging the siding made Tasha cling closer to me as we took the stairs down to the chillier air of the basement. In the midst of studs and shiny silver insulation, there was one furnished corner my dad had carved out for himself. After Joyce left. I walked Tasha over to the television setup, the recliner in front of it. There was a rug, a table, and a mini fridge stocked with beer and water bottles. It was as good a setup as we could ask for in this situation. I turned on the television to find a somber weatherman pointing to a very blotchy map. The words “tornado warning” scrolled along the bottom of the screen with a list of the affected areas. In the distance the siren continued to wail. Tasha hadn’t left my side, the shake in her arm having worked itself down her torso. I knew because her entire body was plastered to my side. “Is that hail? Is it a tornado? Oh my God, what do we do?” Her voice was a desperate, dry chafe as her hands twisted my shirt. I curled her against me, my hand rubbing up and down her arm. She rattled, not unlike the house was doing right now. “Shh,” I said, hoping I was soothing her. I read the scrolling information on TV. I’d heard similar warnings from this same weather guy in the past, except the warnings rarely affected our area specifically. The only reason I’d recognized the siren at all was because they tested it the first Monday of every month, which set off the neighborhood dogs—a series of howling alarms themselves. TV guy wasn’t saying anything new. Stay away from windows, take cover in a bathroom or lower level. There wasn’t a bathroom down here, but it was plumbed for one. Figuring huddling there would be safer than standing in front of the television with basement windows behind us, I walked Tasha over to the tangle of pipes and sat, my back against the wall. She sat down next to me, knees to her chin, arms wrapped protectively around her while her shoes tapped the floor nervously. She was still shaking like a leaf. The wind blew louder than the sirens warning Ridgeway to take cover, and a shock of alarm ran through me. This could be the real deal. The rock-pelting sound grew louder as hail ticked the windows. That last one sounded like it cracked a pane upstairs. Tasha shrieked when an even louder thwack! shook the house, and buried her face in my T-shirt. I held her close and rubbed her arm some more. Fuck if I knew what to do if we were Auntie Em’d to Oz, but that she trusted me to protect her gave me my first real sense of purpose in a long, long time. I was unused to the sensation of my chest filling with pride. It’d been a while since I’d done anything heroic. Scratch that. I didn’t think I’d ever done anything heroic. I put my lips on her hair and inhaled. She smelled great. She felt great. She felt right. I hadn’t been good to her in our recent or far-reaching past, yet here she was, in my house, relying on me to save her from the big, bad act of God raging outside. She could be the key to saving me from the one raging within. I had no idea how to tame it, but if this moment held clues, I was less filled with fear and doubt with Tasha in my grasp. How about that?

“H-how long will it last?” Tasha stuttered into my shirt. Half my mouth lifted into a gentle smile, then faded. Her stutter was cute, but I didn’t want her to be afraid. I wasn’t. Not really. I had to be strong for her. Which made me wonder…if my stutter might have something to do with fear. If now, with my instincts focused on protecting her, my mind not thinking about whether or not I could talk in a life-or-death situation, I might be freed of it entirely. I licked my lips and closed my eyes, focusing on the smell of her hair rather than the words I was about to say. “Talk to me about something, Tasha.” Just as clean as you please. My heart mule-kicked my chest. My voice sounded like the old me, the words rolling off the tip of my tongue. Damn, but that felt good. To be able to express an idea without stammering or stuttering or pausing to say “um” or “uh.” But the girl holding me didn’t point out my mini breakthrough. “I don’t want to talk. I’m terrified.” “You’re safe,” I assured her, knowing she was. Tornados rarely hit anywhere around Ridgeway. We were in a valley. Other than high winds and blustering threats that didn’t pan out, we rarely suffered wrath worse than a few downed branches. “I can’t even think.” She lifted her head and I felt her lips graze my jaw. “I just want to sit here with you.” My skin erupted like a volcano, heat threading down my limbs. Her next words were whispered in a shredded breath. “I don’t want to talk.” Did she mean—? I turned my head, my lips almost touching hers. Want echoed in her gaze and in the way her fingers clutched onto me. I kissed her. In spite of the howling wind and pinging hail and the television announcing we were doomed if we didn’t take cover, I lost myself in the feel of Tasha’s mouth. In the soft pull of her lips and the taste of peppermint her breath had promised. She tilted her head and came closer, her hand gliding over my chest as she tasted me back. I was suddenly glad I’d worked hard to maintain my muscle mass—to keep my body strong. She enjoyed touching me, and I was enjoying it a hell of a lot myself. I had no idea how long we sat there making out, but before long, my breaths had shortened to pants, and hers had disintegrated to tiny, tantalizing mewls. She was practically on my lap anyway so, my hands on her ass, I hauled her the rest of the way and settled her over my now-raging erection. My fingers speared her hair, pushing it away from her face so I could gain access to more of her mouth. That was my favorite part of her. So far. My dick throbbed. “Cade,” she panted. I deepened our kiss, stopping her words. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want her to talk. I

wanted my hands under her shirt, her nipples peaking under the pinch of my fingertips. I wanted to snick down the zipper of her shorts and find her slick and ready and… “Cade,” she repeated, pulling her lips away from mine. My hand tightened at the back of her neck as my chest rose and fell in a hectic rhythm. “What?” I growled, out of breath and blind with lust. She smiled, which only made my heart rate escalate. “The siren is off.” Don’t care. I kissed her again. “This is unethical.” She giggled. “You’re my patient.” “I’m, um, impatient,” I corrected, my voice low. Welcome back, speech problem. I huffed a frustrated breath through my nose, one that blew her rain-dampened hair against her cheek. She pushed the stray lock behind her ear and her smile vanished. “I should probably go?” She said it like a question. I didn’t have a chance to answer before she was moving away from me.

Tasha I maneuvered off Cade’s lap, bumping the part of him that had grown atomically larger since he’d pressed his lips to mine. Not only larger, but substantially harder. Lord have mercy. What was he hiding behind his jeans? I wanted to find out. Which was exactly why I should grab my backpack and hightail it home. “You have a little problem,” I couldn’t help teasing as I moved to stand. I had a little problem too. My inner bad girl had the controls and she was steering me toward Cade even as I willed my feet to take another backward step away from him. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to strip Cade naked and lick every inch of his fantastic body. The house was ours. The storm was over…and those kisses. Gah. Those kisses had turned me hot and horny on contact. “Little?” His eyebrows pulled into a frown. “M-more like huge. Huge problem,” he corrected, holding his hands apart as if showing me the size of a bass he’d caught on a fishing trip. “I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. Sexual frustration had crept in, and with it his stutter. I was trying not to point it out. Before, I thought maybe his tongue needed a workout. But now…I started questioning my theory. I was hooked on the control thing again. Did he feel out of control right now? What if I gave in? Let him take charge? Of me. My neck heated. I could feel the pink hue climbing my cheeks. The idea of him in control made me very happy. But it shouldn’t. Not after I had given Tony too much room to wander. And boy, had he wandered. Nevertheless… Sex therapy! the seductress within chanted.

That was a thing. I bet Cade would have plenty to say when we were naked and he was thrusting… I fanned my face. I opened my mouth to tell him I was going to leave, again, but before I could, his hand looped around my wrist. “W-we have work to d-do.” But his suggestion made me nervous. When he said the word “work,” I immediately thought of him working me into a frenzy. I thought of his lips, tongue, and teeth on my neck. My nipples. My— He stood but kept hold of my wrist and then, as if an answer to my silent prayer, lowered his lips to kiss my neck. As he tongued the sensitive flesh behind my ear, his fingers wandered to the gold chain around my neck. He studied the small turtle hanging there a moment before his eyes went to mine, a question in their depths. “My mom bought it for me,” I said. “T-tell me.” He closed his eyes like he was pained he hadn’t spoken smoothly. “It’s a good story,” I said. He opened his eyes and studied my lips again. “Come on. Let’s get our beers and I’ll tell you.” Upstairs we walked outside for a brief inventory of the damage. A few branches—some large—were in the yard, chairs from the patio set on the back deck were knocked over, but nothing major. What a relief. I sent a text message to my dad telling him I was okay. He didn’t respond. I’d like to think he was busy, but a small, insecure part of me whispered that he didn’t care. I ignored it as best I could as Cade and I walked to the garage and then up to his room. Cade carried our open beer bottles with him and handed mine over as he sat next to me on his couch. I took a sip and winced. It was warm. Full, other than the introductory sip I’d taken before we ran for cover. I bit my lip and studied the bottle, wondering how long we’d been in that basement. Then I wondered what would happen now that we were up here. Alone. Cade leaned in and pressed his lips to my neck. Just one light, openmouthed kiss against my now-speeding pulse. I tilted my head to accept more of those kisses, but he pulled away. “T-talk.” “Sure, like I can think with you kissing my neck.” I slid him a gaze and found his eyes filled with male pride, which was a look I’d seen on him before. I thought I didn’t like that look, but…I did. It was a testament to his self-control that he hadn’t ravished me. It was a testament to mine that I hadn’t asked him to. “My family, when my parents were still married, used to vacation in the Bahamas,” I said, steering the topic back to the necklace he’d asked me about in the basement. That seemed safer than any of the other ideas rampaging through my head.

“The last vacation we went on as a family, my mom and dad took me swimming with the sea turtles. It was my favorite thing ever.” He shrugged his mouth, his eyes going to half-mast like he was saying oh la la. Not that Cade would ever say oh la la, though if he did, we’d have the beginnings of a productive therapy session. Anyway. “They have these big eyes, massive shells,” I continued. “They’re gentle giants. Ridiculously graceful. On land they are painfully slow, but get them in their element and they glide.” I wondered if he thought what I was saying was stupid, but he didn’t look bored. His lips were curved into an almost smile. “My mom bought me this necklace after the divorce. It was my Christmas present. She said she always wanted me to remember the happy times we had together. And she promised times would be happy again—maybe not for the three of us together, but for me.” Cade’s eyebrows closed in and his smile vanished. Sympathy flitted across his face so briefly that if I’d blinked I’d have missed it. He knew intimately what it was like for a family to be ripped apart. He understood wanting things to be good again. Better than I did, I imagined. “Things will get better. It just takes time.” I stroked his temple and brushed the hair away from his forehead. He looked at me for a long time, and I didn’t stop touching him. I ran my fingers down his cheek, across his chin, and then over his full bottom lip. I leaned in and pressed a kiss onto his waiting mouth…and decided I didn’t want to come up for air. He must have agreed, because next he slipped his fingers into my hair, his tongue into my mouth, and we were at it again. Touching, moaning, moving to an invisible beat we had set. Over my shirt and bra, he cupped my breast, lips leaving mine to suction, warm and wet, on my neck and drive me out of my mind. When his hand lifted my shirt, I stopped him and our eyes met. I don’t know why I stopped him. I was afraid, kind of. Not of him but of myself. Of what I wanted to do. Part of me thought I was suffering some sort of posttraumatic stress from the storm, but then that sounded stupid in my head. Cade pulled in a steadying breath before sitting up on the couch. Then he took my hand and helped me sit upright as well. For the next twenty minutes we kissed instead of talking or doing speech therapy. His hands didn’t wander again. I lied and told myself I respected him for having self-control.

Chapter 10 Cade Blue 2 was running like a dream. Now that I had everything the way I wanted under the hood, I could start fixing her on the outside. Repair those rust spots, give her a new paint job, then…the fun part. The chrome and leather interior. Fuzzy dice and a linked-chain steering wheel if I was so inclined. My mouth damn near watered at the vision. I gunned the engine, tooling around town with Blue 2’s top down until Tasha was done with school and came over for our session. I wondered if we’d do more kissing today and decided if she’d let me, I’d start there. She was irresistible when she was having trouble resisting me. I probably shouldn’t, but I had time to kill, so I turned left at a traffic light and drove into a familiar part of town—the business district. I hung a right at the four-way stop on Poplar and then turned left on Claire, pulling to a stop in front of the building I once believed would be mine. Not strictly mine. Ours. In our freshman year, Miller, Brian, Carey, and I had sat in the empty bank parking lot across the street drinking whiskey directly from a bottle wrapped in the liquor-store paper bag. We’d discussed living upstairs as soon as we attained our bachelor’s degrees, then setting up shop after completing law school. “Work your life and live your work” had been our motto. I parked along the curb, resting my wrist on the steering wheel and imagining my name on one of the office doors inside. I wanted that. Or the idea of that, anyway. Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Guess it didn’t matter. I was stuck with what I didn’t want. Except that’s bullshit. Yeah, I guessed it was. If I had something I didn’t want, changing it was as simple and as difficult as, well…changing it. I never believed I’d speak a clear syllable again, yet I’d uttered several in the last few weeks with Tasha, hadn’t I? I sank down in my seat, even though the top was up, when the front door swung open from the inside. Hand partially covering my face, I watched Carey step out, Miller behind him. They propped open the door and Brian came out, and then the three of them went to a large moving truck and unloaded a wide, flat cardboard box. Like one big, happy family. Envy, or maybe jealousy, or maybe good old-fashioned bitterness leaked into my bloodstream. Judging by the shape and size of the box, it was a desk. Some assembly required. Miller couldn’t put together a LEGO set. Which was why he needed me. I could have put that thing together with one hand tied behind my back. Maybe you could get a maintenance job with them, then. I ground my teeth at the thought. I was beginning to hate that voice. Lately I’d felt like I had both hands tied behind my back. I was no longer going to be a part of what we’d sat and

dreamed up that night long ago, and the sooner I accepted it, the better. I eased Blue 2 down the street and raced home with one person on my mind. Tasha. The second I saw her, I was going to get a healthy dose of “oral therapy” from her. She was the only person who could take away the constricting feeling in my chest. And I was going to let her.

Tasha Cade’s tongue, warm and wet in the best way, stroked mine. Everything in my body heated on contact. I’d rapped on the door in the garage that led to his bedroom, but instead of calling for me to come up, he met me in the garage. Then he pushed my back against the wall, pressed my arms overhead, and kissed me for all he was worth. I didn’t argue. Instead, I looped my arms around his neck once he let me go and accepted his assault. After a few minutes of hot and heavy, his pelvis and mine rubbing and gyrating, he’d chased me up the stairs to his room, swatting my butt on the way. I’d been in Cade’s childhood bedroom a hundred times but in this one only a few times. It was technically an extension of the house, but it felt and acted like an apartment, private and contained. Being here with him now that we’d crossed so many lines felt significant, but also safe. I knew he wouldn’t go further than I wanted. But that wasn’t the problem, was it? The problem was how far I wanted to go. Weirdly enough, I felt like we’d been dating since our eyes first met in his hospital room after his accident. Or maybe sooner: the moment I’d left my friends on Alley Road and chased the ambulance with Cade in it. Since that fateful night, Cade and I had become fixtures in each other’s lives. I thought he was an asshole back then but I couldn’t escape the need to help when I worried he had no one who cared. He kissed me now, but he was less frantic than before. More careful. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled me onto his lap, his feet firmly on the floor. His hands hadn’t strayed into tingly territory but were getting closer. My heart stuttered when one palm grazed my skin beneath the cotton of my shirt. I sucked in a breath and pulled my lips from his. “Let me touch you,” he whispered against my lips. Inside I cheered, not only because I wanted him to touch me but because he’d spoken so clearly. He was calm. He was in control. Those were the two best factors for his speech. Mentioning it would be a major faux pas, so I didn’t. His fingertips danced over my stomach and my abdominal muscles clenched. I immediately forgot about speech lessons. He flattened his hand on the small of my back, his tongue moving along mine. Boundaries had been tested on the couch last week, and now he wanted to know what I was okay with. I answered by sliding my tongue along his and grabbing the side of his neck to pull his mouth

closer. His kisses were drugging. When he was kissing me, I forgot who I was, what we were supposed to be doing, and that we’d ever not liked each other. Fingers tickled along the front of my stomach, and I tensed when he drew circles on my rib cage. He was testing how far I’d let him go, and to be honest, I hadn’t figured that out yet. At the edge of my bra, he moved his mouth from mine and tracked those firm lips down the column of my neck, then behind my ear. I wiggled in his lap, encountering that same rigid length against my hip. He grunted when I moved against him and brushed his hand over my bra. My breath caught, loving the teasing heat that built between us. He rolled my shirt over my stomach, but I moved it back down and grasped his hand. He clamped onto the back of my neck and leveled a questioning glare at me, his brow furrowing. He was intense tonight. I wondered why. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He continued glaring. “Are you mad because I won’t let you take my bra off?” His eyebrows drew further down. He snaked his hand beneath my shirt, shaking off my grip. I fought him. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to have to tell me what happened,” I told him as I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t read your caveman facial expressions.” He swallowed, then darted a glance to his left. “Talk to me, Cade,” I said. Using his tactics against him, I pushed his head to the side and kissed his neck. His hands wound into fists, pawing at my T-shirt almost desperately. He liked this. Which made me feel in control. I dragged my tongue along his throat, tasting his salty, pine-scented, warm skin. I skated up to his ear and nipped his earlobe. “Tell me.” I pulled my head back to meet his darker, lust-filled eyes. “Tell me and I’ll let you take my shirt off. And trust me when I say that is a very big deal for me.” It was. I had…issues. Tony issues. Issues I needed to get over. Issues I will get over, I decided. “I…” He hesitated, but I didn’t think it was because he needed to. He was choosing his words. Carefully. “Saw old friends,” he said, his tone flat. “Friends…who aren’t friends any longer?” I guessed. “Yeah.” He pushed a hand through his hair, the word chasing some of the heat from his eyes. “I have friends who are no longer friends. It’s hard.” His fingers went to my shirt, but I wasn’t done. “What else?” I asked, clasping his hands in mine. “The law firm we were going to start,” he said, slowly and concisely. “They’re buying the building.” “Without you,” I finished, my heart lurching. They’d moved on. Left Cade behind. It was even shittier than what my friends had done to me. “Do you regret dropping out?” “No.” His face pinched, then he shrugged. “I don’t nuh-know.” I understood the feeling.

“It falls under the ‘Be careful what you wish for’ column,” I said. “Like when Tony and I would talk about moving in together and getting married after graduation. I was going through the motions. Just doing the next thing on the checklist, you know?” Cade’s hands wandered up my bare back beneath my shirt, but not in a sexual way, just touching me while I talked. I liked this. His attention. Sharing with him. “Sometimes I think I go with the flow too much,” I admitted. He rolled my shirt up another few inches. “Uh”—I stopped his hand again—“turn off the light.” His expression went from casual to confused. “Why?” Because Tony, in addition to being a jerk, was also a perfectionist. There was never a time I took my clothes off in his presence when he didn’t point out one flaw or another. And then he would suggest how I might improve it. He used the sports medicine thing as his reasoning, which at the time I’d understood. Athletic bodies were his thing. Now that I thought about it, it just seemed petty. I chewed on my lip as I frowned. I couldn’t tell Cade any of that. “T-Tash.” Instead of speaking, Cade tapped my forehead with his index finger. He rarely said my name. I think it was the T, which sometimes gave him trouble. But I liked hearing him try. “Yes?” I decided to play dumb. I guessed he’d given me that head tap because my thoughts had wandered out of this bedroom and into Tony’s. Well, Cade might not know where my thoughts had wandered to, but he knew they weren’t here with him. “L-leaving the light on.” “Then I’m leaving my shirt on,” I said sweetly. Darkness swept into his eyes, telling me he wasn’t going to let me talk him out of what he wanted. My heart fluttered with anticipation and fear. I wanted him in control, but I didn’t want him to see my imperfections. “Take it off.” He brushed my lips with the pad of his thumb. Chills sprang to my arms and the back of my neck at the command. His mouth came closer and my nipples tightened. “Why no light?” he asked, his eyes trained on mine. I licked my lips, nervous now. “You won’t like what you see.” He stayed silent, but I wasn’t giving in. Flattening both palms against his solid chest, I met his scowl with one of my own. I needed to get him to forget this whole lamp thing. Distract him… I knew what to do. “How about I kiss you again?” I purred against his mouth. Then I whispered, “This time below the waist.”

Cade I hauled her closer to my mouth, my lips owning hers as I silently answered yes, yes, yes. Her

mouth moved to my throat and her hands went to my shirt. Some rational, cock-blocking part of my brain pushed a single coherent thought to the front that I didn’t like at all. She’s distracting you. I gathered the three brain cells I had left, now that the idea of Tasha’s lips wrapped around my dick had introduced itself, and tried to fucking focus. Grabbing her shoulders, I pulled away from her fantastic mouth. She was trying to deter me with the promise of going down on me, and I have to say, I was fighting damn hard to keep from letting her. The last girl I slept with was a freshman studying to be a criminal defense lawyer. She was…not good in bed. After the accident had taken my speech, my confidence, and my mobility for a short time, I’d had thoughts about how much I regretted making her my last lay. As a result, it’d been several months since I’d had a girl in my bed, a hell of a lot longer since I’d had one willing to suck my dick. Six months…maybe eight. God. Had it been eight? And now Tasha, who had the most magical mouth to ever touch mine, was offering… I’d be crazy to turn her down. Certifiable. “Say yes.” She licked my bottom lip and then whispered, “I want to taste you.” Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, I kissed her hard, still wrangling those brain cells and attempting to override my hormones. Her fingertips grazed the stud of my jeans and some superhuman part of me reacted. I pulled her hands away, locked them behind her back, and turned her so she faced forward. In the full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door, across from the bed where we sat, a very sexy Tasha sat on my lap, blond hair mussed from the paths of my fingers, amazing breasts lifting and dropping, pushed out further since I held her wrists behind her. Against her ear I whispered every word slowly so I didn’t stumble. “What don’t you want me to see?” Her lips parted as she pulled in a breath. I flattened my free hand over her stomach, felt smooth muscle beneath baby-soft skin. Then I tracked my palm up to her breast. Her heart pounded against my hand. I swept my thumb over her bra. She backed her ass against my cock. My hips thrust forward and I mentally bore down. I would not be distracted from getting what I wanted. And what I wanted was to know why she refused to let me see her with the lights on. “Show me.” I let go of her wrists and she stood, turning to face me. “I’m not perfect,” she said. Yes you are. “I have no idea who you’re going to compare me to when you see my body.” I reached for her jeans and unbuttoned them. She didn’t stop me. “I have no idea if the last girl you had in bed was a supermodel”—she gasped as I slid the zipper down, one tooth at a time—“or…or someone less than perfect, but I’m not, Cade. I have an affinity for carbs and some days I skip the gym…”

She stopped to gasp again, and I was guessing that was because I’d dragged one fingertip along the edge of her red lace panties. “Go on.” I smiled and marked another point in my column for not stammering. Hell, yes. “I’m just warning you in case…” I pressed a kiss just under her belly button. Her hands went to my hair. “Cade.” Ah, there we go. She’d said my name on a fluttery moan. A very good sign. I turned her so she was facing the mirror and stripped her jeans off her hips while she watched my reflection. No way would I let her think she was flawed in some way or that I’d be comparing her to anyone. Stupidest thing I’d ever heard. I kissed the flare of one hip bone as she kicked off her flats and stepped out of the jeans. I liked that she was participating. “Take your shirt off,” I instructed as I ran my tongue along the small of her back. She obeyed and I took my lips off her body to watch as she crossed her arms over her waist, grasped the hem of her red shirt, and lifted. When the shirt was tossed aside, I was left staring at a red lace bra and her blond hair falling over her shoulders in long waves. My dick pounded mercilessly against my fly. Tasha didn’t cover herself as my eyes feasted on her pink nipples, visible through the lace of her bra. Eyes on her reflection, I slipped my palms from her hips to her stomach and then north, and she winced. “Is it bad?” she whispered and I saw real concern in her eyes. “Fuck, no,” came my gravelly response. She faced me, looking down at me. I sat on the edge of my bed, entranced by her body. By her. “Tell me the truth, Cade. Am I disgusting?” Definitely not, but I was beginning to think she was insane. I shook my head, seeing nothing but gorgeous skin tempting me in every imaginable way. I was frustrated at the words she used to describe herself. I glided a fingertip over one of her nipples through the lace of her bra. When I moved for the other, she closed her hands over my wrists. “Please turn the lights off. I don’t want you to see.” “Who t-told you that?” I asked. Someone. She hadn’t looked in the mirror and come up with the crazy idea that she was less than supermodel gorgeous on her own. Even as I asked, I knew. Anger vibrated my limbs. She shook her head in answer. I gripped her hips and speared her with a glare. “Who?” She looked away and mumbled, “Who do you think?” Tony. That motherfucker. I pulled in a shaky breath, ground my teeth together, then decided that I wouldn’t let him come between Tasha and me. Between this moment.

There was another way to prove to her she was beautiful, and it only involved the two of us. “C-come here.” I slapped my hands on my thighs and she lowered her perfect, round ass onto my lap. I turned her so she was once again looking in the mirror, pushed her hair over one shoulder, and kissed her neck. “I’m gonna show you”—I flicked the clasp of her bra and slid the straps down her arms, baring her breasts for both of us to see—“w-what I think of you.”

Chapter 11 Tasha Eyes on his in the mirror, I watched while Cade revealed my breasts. I saw areolas that were too big. One breast slightly larger than the other. I saw every imperfection, no matter how slight. Tony had made a habit of pointing out where I fell short. But Cade wasn’t looking at me like he was checking for flaws. Quite the opposite. His expression bordered on reverent. I didn’t see myself through his eyes. I moved my arms to cover my breasts, but he drew my wrists behind my back and secured them with one hand. With his other hand, he took a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and rolled. I watched my flesh pucker, felt a flash of warmth pool low in my belly. He nipped my earlobe and shudders racked my spine. I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. I squirmed, but his hold on me only tightened. “Cade,” I pled. He ignored me, moving his fingers down my stomach, past the edge of my panties. He stroked the warm, wet flesh between my legs as my eyes sank closed. “Look,” he commanded in my ear. I squeezed my eyes tighter and shook my head, basking in the blessed darkness provided by my eyelids. There were things I didn’t like about myself, but in the dark I could pretend they weren’t there. His fingers moved along my center, causing me to squirm and my breath to hitch. “L-look.” I don’t know why, but this time I opened my eyes. My gaze clashed with his in the mirror for one beat, then two as his hand made a circular motion beneath the red lace. He let go of my wrists and slipped my panties down my legs, then off one foot. I was naked now, and too turned on to think twice about it. With two broad hands he opened my legs, hooking my knee over his. I was open to his exploration, to the mirror, and to my own inner critic. I started to close my legs. He didn’t let me. He slipped a finger inside me and spread the wetness over my sensitized skin. Then he dipped back in. My mouth dropped open as heat engulfed me. His slick touch was exquisite. I anchored myself by bracing my palms on his thighs. A small smile curved his mouth as he continued teasing me. His other hand went to my nipple and pinched lightly. My cheeks flushed as he put another finger inside me and pumped in rhythm with the tweaking of my nipple. My breathing grew hectic, my mind blanked. He was turning me on while I watched. I’d never experienced anything like it. It was deliciously wicked and oh-so good.

Surrendering to his stroking fingers, I closed my eyes and reveled in his touch. “Open.” I shook my head. “Tasha.” Perfect enunciation. I opened my eyes as he’d asked and met his gaze in the mirror. He smiled, the dimple sinking into one side of his face. With a shake of his head he said, “Open your legs.” Oh. I spread my legs wide, my throat convulsing as I swallowed around a golf-ball sized lump of anticipation at his dirty command. He continued watching my reaction in the mirror, his eyes going dark again. He moved his hand to my nipple, slowing his pistoning fingers to long, leisurely strokes. He tilted his hand so that he slipped over my clit every time he slid out. I moaned, my hips gyrating in rhythm with his fingers. “This could be my cock.” His voice was seductive against the shell of my ear. This time my eyes slid shut not from shame but because I lacked the strength to keep them open as my orgasm barreled closer. Cade let me have the dark. He wrung high, tight breaths from my lungs and my moans punctuated the air as my release built. My mind melted into a hazy swirl of sensation and color. His arm tightened around my waist, holding me captive while he worked me. A desperate cry stuttered from my lips as I dug my nails into his jeans, seeking purchase while he sent me out of control. Never halting, he moved the hand from my waist to cup my jaw and put his index finger against my lips. “Suck,” he said into my ear, pressing against my lips. I did as he said, sucking his finger into my mouth as he continued moving the fingers of his other hand mercilessly. When he found the spot that made me squirm the most, he increased both pressure and speed and dropped his lips to behind my ear, where he licked and kissed. My release came much like the tornado last week. Out of nowhere, and with a sudden onslaught. I bucked on his lap, grinding against his talented fingers as my orgasm crashed over me like a tide. The dark behind my eyelids burst with lights and my entire body shuddered as I came. Heavily breathing, my mind numb, I gradually floated down. Cade’s voice in my ear grounded me once again. “Open,” he whispered, then kissed my neck sweetly. I opened my eyes. The me in the mirror lounged against him, sated and relaxed. I exhaled, my back pressing against his chest. “Look at you,” he said. I looked. My cheeks were stained pink, my eyes bright, my body limp, lacking strength. Cade moved the hand resting on my thigh and circled my nipple with the tip of his damp finger. “Perfect,” he said, his smile meeting mine in the mirror.

He thought I was perfect. As perfect as that two-syllable word he’d uttered with zero hesitation. — I spent the entire hour in class zoning out. My thoughts returned over and over again to the moments in front of the mirror, to the way Cade had insisted on giving me pleasure while taking none for himself. I mean, what guy turned down a blowjob? The mind boggled. Then again, he didn’t exactly appear inconvenienced when he’d fingered me with a giant smile on his face. He liked my body issues under his control. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think I was hot shit all of a sudden, but this morning after my shower, I had paused in front of the mirror and appreciated my naked body in a way I never had before. I slid my palms over my breasts, down my waist, and over the round fullness of my hips. Then I touched myself there. Just for a second. Just to remember what it felt like to have Cade’s fingers on me. Not the same at all, as it turned out. His touch had been so much better. Upcoming pathophysiology class be damned, I was in an amazing mood today. Nothing could kill my buzz. After that last class, my day was done. No more class, no work. I wondered if Cade worked tonight. If he did, maybe I could go over to Oak & Sage and just…loiter. That sounded nice. Anything sounded nice if it meant I was close to him. Maybe he’d let me thank him for giving me such a nice gift. Maybe I could give him a gift. Tasting Caden Wilson would be fun. I’d like to see him naked. Out of control. Maybe we could sit in front of the mirror again. I hummed, smiling at my wicked thoughts as I clopped down the sidewalk to the parking lot in my favorite pair of cork wedge sandals, so lost in my thoughts that it took me a second to realize someone had called my name. It took no longer than a second for me to realize it was Tony, and that he was alone rather than with his cling-on anime-eyed girlfriend. My shoes stuttered to a stop in front of him and I shot a glance at my car, a few rows over and not near enough to make a run for it without him knowing I was running from him. “Natasha.” He used my full name, like my father, to piss me off. His eyes skimmed me from head to toe, like he was trying to decide whether or not he missed me. After being his plaything for nearly two years, it infuriated me that he had to take time to decide. “Antonio,” I ground out. My using his full name didn’t upset him in the least. He grinned. “I hear you’ve been hanging around with Cade Wilson.” He was carrying a backpack over one shoulder. He wore a striped Lacoste shirt and khakis. That outfit used to be my favorite of his. The way the yellow stripes complemented his dark eyes. Now, though, I thought he looked dull. I had a new appreciation for cut T-shirts, jeans, and tattoos. Tony’s wide mouth had nothing on Cade’s dimple. His short, neat haircut, boring compared to Cade’s messy bedhead. Tony’s smug smile filled me with nothing but regret that he’d ever seen me naked, whereas Cade’s smile filled me with intense longing. Rather than take the bait, I offered, “And who have you been hanging around with lately?” Tony’s eyes were nothing like the golden brown of Cade’s. Tony’s eyes were flat brown. Ugly brown. Shit brown, I mentally added with no small amount of animosity.

His white grin flashed against beautiful tawny skin. Tony was attractive, or would have been if he were on a magazine page and I wasn’t aware of any of the things he’d done with my friends while we were dating. Cheating bastard. He never would have sat me in front of his bedroom mirror, stripped me, and then demanded I watch as I came under his drugging touch. Tony’s touch wasn’t drugging. It was scathing. Like his personality. “Dianna, you mean,” he answered. “Just the one this time around?” Tony shrugged. “Maybe she’s all I need.” “Ha!” I couldn’t believe I laughed at that, but I had. Because it was funny. And even better, my comment made Tony’s smile disappear from his face like I was a freaking magician. “What do you and Cade talk about, Tasha?” Meanness flashed in his eyes. I took the opening rather than defend Cade to this asshole. “We don’t talk much.” I resisted the urge to punch the air when one of Tony’s eyes twitched. Wasn’t that like a cheater? He didn’t want me to have anyone else, even though he’d banged half the girls I knew while we were dating. “I prefer to spend our time on oral therapy.” Immature, but I said those last two words slowly. On that zinger I strutted away from my ex-boyfriend, knowing that the idea of me with another man bothered him all the way down to his Italian loafers. My strut continued out of the school, across the lawn, and into my final class for the day. Nothing like standing up to the person who’d wronged you in the first place. Until you run into his current girlfriend. Dianna lingered by the fountain, taking advantage of a bright, sunshine-filled day by doing her homework outside. I guessed that’s what she was doing. She was bent over papers, the wind blowing them and kicking her dark hair over her face. I picked up the pace and darted by, not wanting her to see me. I had mentally cut her down as a dwarfish petite girl with giant googly eyes, but the inner, less confident me inventoried her body and compared it to my own and found her inching ahead. One “session” with Cade in front of his mirror hadn’t been enough to completely vanquish that demon. I shook it off and went to class. Things went well considering I hated my teacher, there was a pop quiz, and Carrie (former friend) was in class as well. I had no idea why we weren’t friends. She hadn’t slept with Tony and wasn’t close with my other friends who had. But after the breakup, she and I quit speaking. Sort of mutually. Or whatever. I liked to think I didn’t care, but sometimes I did in spite of myself. On the way to my car, I received a text. I was halfway down the sidewalk again and foolishly feared that Tony was now texting me instead of merely accosting me on campus. Instead, the two words on my screen, and the guy they were from, made my heart soar. I’m here. I lifted my head to look around when a honk drew my attention to the right. There Cade sat, in his car. The top was off, and his elbow was leaning on the open window, his sunglasses

perched on his nose. His arm tattoos and a wicked, delicious grin drew me closer. He got out of the car and ambled over. I met him halfway, looking over his shoulder to admire his car. “So she runs now?” “Blue 2,” he introduced, with only the slightest hesitation over the B. “Well, she suits you.” He slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans in an adorably self-conscious way. My heart fluttered. “T-take you out?” he asked. “On a…um…On a date?” My chest tightened at the sweet offer. He nodded. “Oh, um…” Somehow the idea of hanging out at his house seemed safer. The idea of not dating seemed safer. His eyebrows lowered to the edge of his sunglasses. I took that to mean he was frustrated. And really, what did I care if we went on a date? Soon I’d be graduating and helping Cade speak would be behind me. I assumed…Well. I didn’t assume anything, to be totally honest. I was trying not to think beyond our next therapy session. Or our next kiss. “All right,” I said. “I have to swing by my dad’s house first. Where can I meet you?” I’d received a check to refund an overage my father had paid, and since he had written that check, I needed to get it to him. I might as well make a quick stop. Especially since I knew he wouldn’t be home. He’d mentioned his meeting ended after a dinner tonight, so stopping by without him there held extra incentive. Hands stuffed in his pockets, Cade continued giving me an impish smile. “What?” I asked through a laugh. He licked his lips, and I found myself wanting his kiss. I didn’t get one, though, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that we were on campus. “Aren’t you going to tell me where to meet you?” I asked. He shook his head, a definite no. “F-follow you,” he said, and climbed behind the wheel.

Chapter 12 Cade The wind blew through my hair and over my bare arms as the bright sun warmed my skin. I pushed the sunglasses up on my nose and enjoyed the rarity of a cloudless day. A set of topof-the-line Bose speakers inside my yet-to-be-renamed ride pumped sweet bass through the seat and rattled my balls. Today was a good day. Blue 2 wasn’t perfect, but she was drivable, and much like my favorite kind of girl, she was also topless. The thought made me think of Tasha and the way she’d let me strip her. The way she’d trusted herself in my hands and came apart under my touch. I tried not to use my imaginary X-ray vision on her when I saw her stepping out onto the sidewalk, but my only thought when I saw that short plaid dress and tall shoes had been getting her out of them. This morning I woke with a single, penetrating thought. I was tired of being alone. At home or at work, I itched to interact with someone, anyone. I’d always been an extrovert until the accident, and now I felt the old me returning. Whenever Tasha was around, my mood improved. I wanted to talk. With the day off from Oak & Sage, I was at loose ends. I knew Tasha had a long day of classes, and I’d found myself actually counting down to when I could see her next. It felt good to look forward to something. Blue 2 rattled and I mentally noted to tighten her axle. By winter she’d need a new soft top, and the heater was busted, so that would require a repair as well. I let those issues fall away and refocused on the gorgeous spring day. I couldn’t wait to show Tash what Blue 2 could do. At the gate in front of Tasha’s father’s house, my mouth dropped. Two stone pillars guarded the entrance, a black iron gate with a touch pad outside. She keyed in a code, taking a brief moment to look back at me, slide her sunglasses down her nose, and wink. My heart kicked my ribs. The second I had an opening, I was kissing her senseless. I followed her through the gate and up to a house, which was, no shit, three times the size of my dad’s house. And my dad’s house wasn’t small. I swung Blue 2 in behind her gleaming Beamer, considering how out of place both my car and I looked in this setting. Money virtually emanated from every inch of Tasha’s family home. The pale brick driveway was empty save for a very shiny, red Lexus F-sport. Nice ride, Morton Montgomery. I stepped out and shut my car door and noticed Tasha transfixed on the Lexus, her mouth pulled into a frown.

“Not a Lexus girl?” I joked, wondering what she found so offensive about the car. “Changed my mind. Let’s go.” She turned for her car and I wrapped a hand around her elbow to stop her. Her eyes trailed up to mine, sadness in their depths. “That’s Tony’s car,” she told me. My fist curled. Punching Fry’s lights out would be an honor. I started for the front door but Tasha’s hand caught mine. “What are you doing? Don’t go in there. If he’s in there, then my father’s in there, and if my father’s in there…” I turned and caught her jaw in my palm, lowering my face to hers and watching as her blue eyes darkened. I brushed my lips along hers for a soft and over-way-too-soon kiss. “Let’s find out.” She nodded. Once. I wove her fingers with mine and pulled her to my side, but when I started for the door again, she tugged me. “Before you go in there, there’s something you should know.” She was whispering. I didn’t like seeing her timid. She licked her lips before continuing. “He won’t like that you’re with me.” “Tony?” I couldn’t help laughing. “G-good.” Subtly, she shook her head. “My father.” I frowned. “He asked me to stop seeing you…for treatment. He thought we were fooling around.” At my skeptical raised eyebrow, she added, “We weren’t…at the time.” But she’d kept seeing me anyway. I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my face. Even in the midst of her father, who hated me, and her ex-boyfriend, who I hated, I felt flattered and damn lucky that she hadn’t let her father scare her off. The next kiss I gave her was longer, wetter, and hotter. “I could leave the check in the mailbox,” she breathed. Over her shoulder I saw a shadow pass the window in a front room. “C-company,” I said, stroking my fingers down her neck and along her shoulder. Her father or Tony had seen us, and I liked that one of them knew and was telling the other. A look over her shoulder, then she huffed. “May as well go in now. But you don’t have to. You shouldn’t.” I tightened my grip on her hand, letting my touch say what I didn’t. I’m not going anywhere. Not for a while. Her small smile of acceptance was enough for me. “Tony used to come to my dad for investing advice when we were together,” she said, voice low as she checked out the window. Whoever had been standing there wasn’t any longer. “Maybe that’s why he’s here.” Worry bisected her brow as she chewed on the corner of her lip. She didn’t have to worry with me around. I pulled her close, wrapping her in my arms. She felt good there. I felt better with her there. Her eyes turned up to mine, making her look

innocent and sweet. Like a girl who wouldn’t dream of letting a tatted street racer in her pants. “What are you smiling about?” she asked. No way was I telling her. I gave her a quick kiss. “I missed you,” she said when I backed away. My heart thudded. I’d missed her too. Our next kiss went on longer than I’d planned when she clutched my shirt and held me to her. Time stopped as we made out for long minutes, our tongues stroking, hands gripping the PG parts of each other’s bodies. “We shouldn’t do this here,” she said, breathless. I liked that I’d taken her breath. She’d taken mine. “Later, then,” I said with a grin, moving my hands away from her body and wanting her with an intensity I hadn’t felt in…maybe ever. Hand in hand again, we walked inside, Tasha tensing as we crossed the threshold. “I saw Tony earlier today,” she said, her voice low once we were inside. “I wasn’t very nice.” I chuffed a dry laugh, amused by her concern that she “wasn’t very nice” to a guy who was the epitome of “not very nice.” After a false start on the word “nice,” I gave up and nodded. Maybe I’d keep my mouth shut and try to look intimidating instead. The real reason I wanted to see Tony wasn’t to confront him but to show him Tasha had moved on. She was with me, and a guy like me didn’t adhere to frat-boy laws. Hell, I hadn’t adhered to a few actual laws in the past. We crossed the foyer, and that’s when I spotted Morton Montgomery stepping from his office. A glass of liquor in hand, he frowned at me. I liked that I’d pissed him off. He didn’t like that I was with Tasha—that she’d chosen me. I liked that as well. I hadn’t been chosen in a long, long, long time. Her hand squeezed mine and my chest eased as I took a deep breath. Though it sounded sappy in my head, I thought that together, Tasha and I could do anything. Tony rose from a guest chair in the office and stood behind Morton. I returned Tony’s glare, then fixed my focus on Tasha’s father. I refused to be intimidated. I wrapped my arm around Tasha’s waist, pulling her flush against my side, sending a silent message. Mine. But Tony was a rich, privileged kid. I should’ve known he wouldn’t have the sense to back down. He leaned in the doorway next to Mort and crossed his arms over his dorky shirt. “What the hell is he doing here?” her father asked. Here we go. She didn’t balk. “I brought your check.” She walked the envelope over to her dad and he took it. I watched Tony, who watched her, eyes narrowed. I worked my jaw, but there was no reason to act out. Especially when Tasha returned to my side and tucked her arm through mine. I gave Tony a smug smile. It was involuntary. “So. You two are a thing,” Tony snarled. “She’s quite the talker. How’s that work for you? Do you endure her chattering or occupy her mouth in other ways?” Both Tasha and I looked to her dad, who should have been yanking Tony by his stupid

collar and throwing him out on his ass. When he didn’t, I took a big step forward, because someone should stand up for her. Tony ducked behind Tasha’s dad at the same time she wrapped her hands around my arm. “Caden, behave,” Morton told me. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.” “Really?” I said, anger shaking my arms. “T-taking his side?” “Get out of my house,” Morton said, his calm making me angrier. “And you, young lady, seem to have made a decision to deliberately defy me.” He held out a hand. “Car keys.” “What?” Tasha dropped my hand. “Daddy, wait. I’ll buy a different car, but for now, I need it.” “Caden’s presence here shows you didn’t think your predicament through, and that’s not my problem.” “How will I get to school? To work?” she asked, real worry entering her tone. “M-me.” I had a car. I could take her wherever she needed to go. “Cade,” she said, and I knew her worry wasn’t over losing her rich-girl mobile. Her worry was finishing school, getting to the job that had just promised her full-time employment upon graduation. She couldn’t be in the situation of not showing up and risk getting fired. Not after how hard she’d worked. “You have m-m-me,” I said, my voice low, my mouth still wrestling with that pesky M. She watched me for the space of three heartbeats, then twisted the car key off her key chain and pressed it into my palm. I was proud of her. Eyes on her father’s, I tossed the key and heard it plink on the marble floor at his feet. His lip curled but my cool smile remained. Then Tasha and I walked to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” her father asked, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. “On a date,” she called, slamming the front door behind her. I couldn’t get her out of there fast enough. When I’d first met Tasha at that party, I’d assumed that, like Brooke, she was a daddy’s girl who would do anything to please him because she was weak. Now I saw the truth. She had been trying to win the approval of a man who showed her no support. Morton had bought her loyalty with school, with her apartment, with a BMW, but he failed to see that her loyalty could be won if he simply treated her with respect. I knew because it was a lesson I’d recently learned. I opened Blue 2’s passenger door while mentally mapping my journey back into the house to knock Tony’s head off his skinny neck. She must have noticed the tension stringing my arms, because before she sat in the seat, she rested a hand on my chest. “Breathe.” I took one deep breath. “One more.” Her fingers on my chest did a lot to calm me. “That’s better,” she said after I took another breath, which admittedly took me down several notches. “Where are you taking me?” “Surprise,” I said, not trusting myself with a complete sentence. “Let me grab one thing.” She ducked into the Z4 and came out with her ever-present pack

containing straws and books and the therapy she’d risked doing with me, knowing her father would take away everything he’d given her. I took it from her, not minding for a change that she carried it everywhere. It was because she cared. About me. About my voice. And she cared above herself. Only one woman in my past had ever cared about me more than herself, and that was Joyce. I winced as I thought of the way I’d been ignoring her and promised myself I’d remedy that soon. But for now, only Tasha mattered. I’d won this round—because I was getting her out of this hellhole disguised as luxury. She was coming with me.

Tasha As the miles sped by, my hair whipping in the wind, I considered what Cade had done for me. He’d walked right into my father’s house and backed me up. He’d shown no regard for his own embarrassment when he spoke in front of both Tony and my dad. I was so proud of him. I was also worried that Cade’s promise to be my personal Uber might fall through of no fault of his own. What if his car broke down again? Another part of me worried that my dad would cut me off completely. Then I’d be homeless as well as carless, and I didn’t know how I’d live. What I did know was that I felt personal triumph when the car key landed at my father’s feet. Talk about a mic drop. I didn’t need a Beamer to have a good life. My father and Tony could have each other. The sun was setting, the sky fading into beautiful purple, orange, and yellow the way it did this time of year. Cade was in his element behind the wheel—either in my smooth-as-butter BMW or now in the Camaro with the blubbering motor. It didn’t seem to matter what car he was driving; Cade should be driving. He navigated out of the pretty part of town and into the more run-down part, until we arrived at a destination familiar to both of us. Alley Road. The site of his accident. An accident I’d witnessed from far away, my blood turning as ice cold as the freezing winter wind. The second the accident happened, everyone had scattered. They knew the ambulance would arrive shortly. That cop cars would swarm. Nearly everyone had been drinking alcohol or had weed in their pockets, and most had placed bets. It wasn’t somewhere a college student wanted to be when the authorities arrived. And everyone had assumed Cade was either dead or headed to jail. Miraculously, Cade hadn’t died or gone to jail. My chest swelled with gratitude so acute, I reached over and squeezed his arm. In spite of twilight fast approaching, Cade wore his sunglasses. He pulled to a stop and parked not far from the fire hydrant that had damaged his voice. I waited for him to speak, threading my fingers through his. We sat in silence for so long that when he spoke, it surprised me.

“I was try-trying to save him,” he said softly. Tightness pulled his mouth into a flat line. “Who?” My eyes followed his gaze to the fire hydrant. He took off his sunglasses and threw them onto the dashboard. His light brown eyes flicked to mine. “Dad.” “By street racing?” He nodded. I figured Paul had needed the money, since he’d been gambling at the time. “Well. He’s not gambling anymore.” I didn’t know that for sure, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?” “Y-you tell me.” Cade rubbed his fingers together, the universal symbol for money, and I knew he was talking about the envelope Paul had offered that I had refused. Embarrassed, my cheeks warmed. “I didn’t take it.” Cade’s mouth pulled into a small smile. “An-and your dad?” I smiled back at him. “I didn’t let him scare me off either. I liked doing things with you, so I wasn’t about to stop.” “I l-like doing things with y-you.” He spoke carefully, working through each syllable. “TTasha.” My name came out on a whisper as he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles along my cheek. My life was better since I’d started spending time with Cade. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d even enjoyed the moments when he wasn’t talking to me and we’d sat in silence in his bedroom. Who would’ve thought, back when I was visiting the hospital room and sitting at his bedside, that the guy I hated would become someone I…liked. Liked a lot. You never hated him. I hadn’t, I realized now. “Did you t-talk to him about me?” “Paul?” I asked, confused. Cade corrected with a shake of his head. “Dumbass.” “Oh, you mean Tony.” A low laugh came from Cade’s chest and gooseflesh cropped up on my arms. I loved his laugh. Loved the way his mouth smiled and his dimple appeared. Loved the way the sound eased the tension in the air between us. Well. Not all the tension. There was a lot of sexy tension in the car. I looked at my hands. “I didn’t correct his assumption that you and I were…you know.” Cade lifted my chin. His smile faded as his gaze burned into mine. “I’d like to,” I whispered. Alley Road was abandoned. Old factory buildings, and no, not the nicest part of town, but not the worst. We were alone save for a homeless woman standing near a shopping cart at the end of the adjacent block.

I only had to lean in a tiny bit before Cade slanted his mouth over mine. He kissed like a dream. No dream I’d ever had for myself, though. My dreams had been about my future. A budding, successful career. Homework and passing tests. And for some ungodly reason, I’d spun Tony into the web of my future. But not anymore. My future wasn’t clear, or maybe it had been an illusion all along. A story I used to tell myself so that I could sleep at night. The thin soap bubble that used to hold all my plans had since popped. Not knowing what came next was exciting. Cade pulled his lips from mine. Frowning, he murmured (stutter free, I might add), “Where do you go when I kiss you?” I blinked up at him. “I—nowhere.” Like he wanted to hear my rambling thoughts about my future and my past and how confused I was about where I would end up. Like he wanted to hear how every time I thought about my future I thought of him with a big question mark following and didn’t know how to fill in the blank. “Stay with me,” he murmured. He pulled me close, one hand threaded into my hair as he forced our faces closer, the light scruff on his jaw scratching my chin. I stayed with him. I focused on the feel of his warm, wet tongue. The way his strong fingers gripped my waist, then traveled to my shirt, where he thumbed my breast over my bra. The taste of him, the smell of him. Clean, like soap and fresh air. No, my mind didn’t wander this time. I was one hundred percent focused on him. Soon I forgot we were on Alley Road. Until he pulled away from me, his chest lifting and dropping, his eyes molten. I guessed pulling away from me took a lot of self-control. “This…isn’t our date,” he said, his tone suggesting he hadn’t meant to let our kiss spin out of control. But here, on Alley Road, where he’d spun out of control, it felt right. Night was beginning to fall and a breeze swept chilly air into the car and around our bodies. “I guess I lost track of time,” I said. “Me too.” One short peck of a kiss later, he put the car into gear, sending me a heated gaze that held the promise of more. I liked that I had the power turn him on, to make him forget where he was. I liked the way he liked me. As much, I hoped, as I liked him.

Chapter 13 Cade The plan was to take Tasha to Ridgeway State Park, lie under the blanket of stars, seats leaned back in the Camaro, and just…be. The park closed at sunset, which meant we’d have no company for our stargazing. When I arrived, I was nervous, and not because I had to get out and unhook a metal sign warning: VIOLATORS WILL BE PERSECUTED. Ahh, Ridgeway. Leave it to my town to misuse a word in a warning. After I pulled the car past the gate, I let her idle while I put the chain back. The reason for my attack of nerves was because I had packed a picnic and a blanket, and I wasn’t sure if I’d done it right. Dates in the past had consisted of bar food and shots, so I was a little out of my element. Tasha was nervous for a different reason. When I climbed back inside the car, her hands were clenched together in her lap. I eased along the road into the dark, abandoned park, resting my hand over her interlaced fingers. “Never broke into anywh-where before?” “No.” She licked her lips before turning to eye me in the grainy darkness. “It’s kinda fun.” “Stick with me, kitten. I’ll sh-show you fun.” “Kitten.” I sneaked a look at her and saw her lips twist. “That’s what you called me the night you hit on me with that horrible ‘Cade train’ line.” There was a time I would’ve laughed that off, but instead, I winced. “It was pretty bad.” She was laughing, which hadn’t been her reaction at the time, so I guessed she’d forgiven me. Even so, I said, “Sorry,” the S dragging out a few humiliating beats. Her hand over mine, she said, “It’s okay now.” Yeah, I supposed it was. I navigated past the parking lot, bumping along the grass. We were well out of sight of the road, but I couldn’t trust the trees to hide the car completely. If someone was in the park, he’d spot us, but when’s the last time you saw a park ranger on duty? Tasha was shivering—I doubted it was from the exhilaration of breaking into the park. I reached behind me for the blanket. “I’m fine.” Said her chattering teeth. “Haven’t fixed the heater y-yet,” I told her. I killed the engine and spread the blanket over

her bare legs. She tugged the blanket over her whole body, and much as I hated her covering up, I liked her better wearing a warm smile. The curve of her lips and the way she closed her eyes and snuggled down in the blanket made her look very kittenlike. I was tuning in a radio station, the volume low, when she asked, “Is that a cooler?” I met her raised eyebrow with one of my own. “Maybe.” “Do you always come prepared for a spontaneous make-out session?” “I was pr-preparing to do this anyway. The m-making out is a bonus.” I grinned and she grinned back. “Eat, then therapy.” “Therapy?” She looked excited, which was damn cute. I’d just agreed to let her work on my lips and tongue, and if I wasn’t mistaking her expression, the prospect of helping me speak clearly made her more excited than us making out. I lifted the blanket and slapped a sandwich in her hand, then pulled out a bottle of water and waggled it at her. “Have y-your straws?” “It just so happens I do.” She grinned. She had no complaints about her ham and cheese sandwich, so I took that to mean it was at least edible. I wasn’t much of a gourmet. Afterward we went to work. I did her puckering exercises. I sounded out the ooos and I popped my puhs. She must’ve caught me grimacing at the straws. She pulled one out, unwrapped it, and stuck it into the water bottle, then said, “You know…this is simply a warm-up for your tongue.” She had my full attention when her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “If you’d like to try an alternate workout…” Arm on the back of her seat, I leaned in close. “Yes.” The word came out without thought. I hadn’t even tried. Her laugh was a signal of her approval. I liked that a hell of a lot. “Are you surprised?” she asked. “That therapy actually works?” “Kinda.” And a clear K. I’ll be damned. “Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” She came closer and I stopped caring about the words coming out of my mouth and focused on hers. I closed the gap and kissed her. She wasted no time slipping her hand under my T-shirt and scraping my abs with her fingernails. “This is my favorite kind of therapy.” Her voice was husky, feathering at the edges. I loved when she sounded like that. “Mine too,” I muttered against her neck as I kissed my way south. Hand under her shirt, I unclasped her bra, freeing her gorgeous, creamy breasts. I took one on my tongue a moment later, and it peaked, begging for more. Her back arched, her hips thrusting as my hand wandered in that direction. I didn’t get far before she was lifting my head and kissing me mercilessly. She rubbed her palm on my cock over my jeans as my breath whooshed from my lips. This girl. “Tasha.” I didn’t have to say more. Delicate fingers undid the stud of my jeans and lowered

the zipper on my pants. The throb in my dick was supersonic. If she did what I thought she was about to do…God. I’d have to pull it together to last longer than a few minutes. Just thinking of her mouth on me made my heart rate triple and my palms sweat. She tossed the blanket over my lap and disappeared under it. Holy shit. I leaned back on the headrest, staring at the star-studded sky. I mused that my stargazing idea had taken a turn for the better, but the moment her wet, warm mouth closed over me, my brain cells incinerated. Not seeing what she was doing amplified every sensation. She kissed the tip sweetly before swirling the head with her tongue. I groaned as she took my cock into her mouth inch by inch. Then she was sucking me deeply, laving me with her talented tongue as my hips gave a helpless jerk. My hand had rested on her head over the blanket. I was conscious of not forcing her mouth down, but there was no need. She was getting me off without my help and needed no guidance. Her perfect rhythm sent fire licking up my spine. The buzz in my cock shot through my limbs, then numbed my face. I knifed up and threw the blanket off my lap to warn her I was close to coming. Damn. If I’d known she was going to do this, I’d have cleaned the pipes this morning before I came to get her. I swept her hair off her face. “Tash,” I breathed, my voice ragged. She peeked up at me but determinedly continued her work. She didn’t want to stop. I kept my eyes locked on hers, unable to get my tongue to work for a totally different reason than usual. The best I managed were a few meager groans. Tasha never came up for air. Seconds later, my legs were tensed straight, my feet pushing into the floorboard. My ass clenched, and my eyes were shut when my release slammed into me. I pumped into her mouth, coming, moaning, writhing, and she let me. Then my muscles relaxed, my mind nothing but a fuzzy veil as my head fell back on the headrest. Her mouth left my cock and she kissed my belly button, then my chest, hauling my shirt up as she explored me with her mouth. “I love your body.” She placed an openmouthed kiss on one of my nipples. “I love yours.” I shuddered, then lazily opened my eyes. Tasha, with her rumpled hair and flushed cheeks. God. I was beginning to think I could love a whole lot more than her body if pressed. I tossed the blanket into the backseat and kissed her. She tasted like sex and I wanted to lick every inch of her. “Say something else,” she whispered against my mouth. “I want inside you.” I didn’t know if she was testing my speech abilities, but I didn’t care, either. An answering heat flared in her blue eyes. I kissed her deeply and she kissed me back, and I let my hands wander from the neck of her shirt to her breasts.

“Here?” she asked. I nodded. It was about time to christen this car. I wanted Tasha like that. In the car. Bucket seats would make this a challenge, but I was up for it. “Don’t you need a minute to…recover?” she gasped when I yanked her shirt over her head. She took a cautious look around, but there was nothing in the surrounding woods save trees and crickets and stars. And her. Even in the gathering darkness, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on. “Don’t worry about me.” I had other plans and they didn’t involve sex. Not yet. I had plans to go down on Tasha, and I was sure the rest of me would get back in the game eventually. I shoved her floral skirt over her thighs and leaned across the seats, suffering the wrath of a stick shift to the ribs. Second thought… I climbed out of the car, walked around, and opened her door. “Where are you going?” she asked. I turned her body and pulled her legs out of the car. She said my name on a sigh when I coasted my hands up her thighs. The sound of Tasha Montgomery sighing my name was unparalleled. I wound eager hands around her panties, my mouth watering in anticipation. “No. You don’t have to do that.” She put her hands over my hands beneath her skirt. “I know.” I wanted to. I wanted her on my tongue more than I wanted my next breath. “Therapy.” I sent her a grin and she grinned back. Tasha said I needed tongue exercises, and this qualified. She relaxed her hands and settled back as best she could in the bucket seat. I threw her legs over my shoulders. And there, in the park, hidden behind a hill in a patch of trees, I started exercising.

Tasha I was sure there would be no way I could relax with Cade between my legs in a public place, but I realized shortly after he tugged my panties off and threw them at me that I was about to be proven very wrong. I was fully prepared to fake it the way I had with Tony. To be completely honest, this wasn’t my favorite activity in bed. “In the car,” however, it was quickly zooming into my top five. Even though my lower back was pressed against something uncomfortable and my knee was wedged against the car’s frame. Gradually, every worry and discomfort fell away as Cade licked and sucked. I grabbed his hair while his mouth moved over me. And then I realized I was going to come like this with hardly any effort at all. My heart was racing, and the tingling of my nipples signaled my building orgasm. Cade knew. He picked up the pace, his focus narrowing on my clit as I tipped my hips upward, my fingers in his hair pulling harder. Oh God. Oh, yes, this was working.

On the good-girl-doing-very-bad-things scale—letting a boy with tattoos take me in his convertible—I was about to earn a gold star. “Cade,” I breathed. He didn’t answer. It was just as well. What followed was a series of unintelligible moans. He hummed low in his throat, and the sound vibrated against my sensitive flesh. I threw my head back. Close, so very close. He was settled in for good, but I came two seconds later, writhing against his face while whispering my praise. My body clenched and released and my fingers continued their pulling even as I sagged lower in the seat. Damn. Cade really knew how to use his tongue. He placed a tender kiss on the inside of each of my thighs and gave me a smile. I would never forget what he looked like shadowed by the dim interior light of the car. His messy hair, the dimple punctuating his cheek, and the look of pride in his eyes, all framed by my loose summer skirt. He climbed off his knees and adjusted himself, and my eyes went to his jeans. He wasn’t kidding. He was ready. I could make out the outline of his erection through the denim. I wanted him so badly I couldn’t think straight. I held out my arms. “Come here.” I was ready to accept his luscious weight against me. I was ready to strip him and have him inside me. I was ready for whatever came next, even if our first time was going to be in his car. We were making our own rules. Cade’s eyes shifted from hooded to wide as a red glow covered his face. His grin wiped away when the red glow changed to blue, then red again. Shit. Cops. “Get dressed.” He didn’t have to tell me twice. My heart pounded double time, my postorgasmic buzz lost with my next blink. I shoved my skirt down, pulled my shirt on, and tucked my legs into the car as Cade walked around to the driver’s side. He glanced over and I nodded, grateful we hadn’t pulled any alcohol out of the cooler with our dinner. Grateful the cop hadn’t pulled up thirty seconds earlier to find me writhing against Cade’s face. It was amazing I could be grateful about any of it, as scared as I was. I’d never been busted by the cops before. The sound of heavy boots crunching through grass came closer as a flashlight beam blinded me. I squinted. “Care to explain what you’re doing here?” the voice of authority asked. When the flashlight moved from me to Cade, I blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness and took a good look at the officer in blue. Hand on his hip, reddish hair. I knew him. Well, not knew him, but I recognized him. Rena had been set up on a date with him last year by her well-meaning mother. Needless to say, things hadn’t worked out. “No,” Cade answered, hip resting on the door. Clearly, he wasn’t going to cooperate. But I wasn’t interested in this escalating into jail time.

“Baron, right?” I blurted. The officer swept the flashlight to me but kept it aimed at my body rather than shining it in my eyes. “You’re Roy’s nephew. I remember you from the hospital.” I couldn’t see his reaction behind the light. “I’m Tasha Montgomery. Rena’s best friend.” At the mention of Rena, Baron lowered the flashlight before sweeping it over to Cade. If I kept talking, I might be able to get us out of this. Baron liked Rena. As in liked liked. Or he used to, anyway. I hoped he wasn’t bitter because Rena had chosen Devlin over him. I hoped I could count on Baron being lovesick enough to let us go. “This is Cade. I was visiting him in the hospital when you were there.” No response. “Anyway,” I continued, “we’re working on his therapy tonight. Speech therapy.” This was not going well, and it sounded like a lie, even though it was the truth. Partially. “Whatever you’re ‘working on,’ there’s no reason for you to be in a park after hours,” he said. “You’re trespassing.” “Give me a ticket and we’ll go,” Cade said, folding his arms over his chest. Baron swept his angry gaze to Cade. “Or you could let us go? It’s totally my fault. See, he does better when we practice outside of the house. I figured the dark would…help him relax more. Speech is a funny thing…” I prayed this was working. Cade sent me a dark look and I bit my lip. “Sounds like he’s speaking okay to me,” Baron said in challenge. “See, it works!” I chirped, hyperaware that my underpants were wedged behind me in the seat. I hoped Baron didn’t ask me to get out of the car. I hoped I didn’t get arrested. It would be embarrassing to go to jail without anything under my skirt, and more embarrassing to call my dad and confirm his suspicions about Cade Wilson getting me into trouble. “Just write the damn ticket,” Cade grumbled. I wanted to throttle him at that point. He wasn’t assisting in my efforts to appease Baron. “Please don’t.” I pushed the door open. Baron held out a hand. “Stay in the vehicle. And you,” he said to Cade, “get back in it.” For a few seconds I thought Cade was going to argue, but he didn’t. He opened the driver’s-side door, climbed in, and closed the door. Phew. “I’m going to let you off with a warning, but only because I’m a nice guy.” Baron rested a hand on the open window as Cade turned the key. Headlights permeated the darkness. I wondered if Baron was giving us a warning because word would get back to Rena. “If I catch you out here again, doing therapy”—I could hear the doubt curling around the word—“you’ll both get tickets for trespassing, or worse.” “Thank you,” I said before I thought about it. Baron patted the edge of the car and directed us by motioning toward the park exit. He walked back to his vehicle and we rolled out of the grass, into the parking lot, and then onto

the road. I let out a huge breath of relief. “Did you have to mention therapy?” Cade growled as he drove through the now-open gate. “What did you expect me to say? You were begging for a ticket.” He clenched his teeth. I saw a muscle in his cheek tic. “Cade.” “Maybe I don’t want everyone to know that I can’t talk.” “Well, you’re talking now.” “It comes and goes. You know that,” he shouted over the wind cutting through the car. It was chilly now that the sun had gone down. We should have put the top up, but that hadn’t exactly been the priority. I held my whipping hair with one hand and watched the headlights passing us on the other side of the street. Cade was right; his ability to speak could come or go at any moment. But we had been successful at widening the gap between coming and going. With a combination of exercises and his own returning confidence, which had come from him believing in himself, I had no doubt his speech would make a full return. “Are you taking me home?” I asked when he stopped at a red light. One more block and he’d have to choose left—toward my apartment—or right—to his place. “No.” He turned to me, and under the overhead streetlamps, I saw warmth flash in his eyes. “You’re coming home with me.”

Chapter 14 Tasha I remained quiet on the rest of the drive to his house. Until Cade parked in the garage, lifted the cooler and my backpack out of the backseat, and gestured for me to go ahead of him to his room. “Your dad’s here,” I whispered, my eyes on Paul’s car. Cade shrugged. “Yeah.” “Your dad could tell my dad that I spent the night.” Cade was unruffled by this information. “And?” I tipped my head and put my hand on my hip. “And he will tell my dad that I spent the night here,” I repeated, hoping my wide eyes gave him insight into how much deeper the shit pile could get if I continued to defy my father. “We should go to my place.” I hadn’t been thinking before when he told me I was coming home with him. I’d been too busy giving thanks that we weren’t in the back of a police cruiser. “I’ll talk to him.” “My dad?” I asked, my voice climbing an alarmed octave. Cade smiled. “Mine. Go in.” I stepped into the darkness of the staircase, finding the switch for the light and flicking it. Cade abandoned the cooler by the kitchenette’s sink, and then he kissed me and told me he’d be right back. I watched as he disappeared down the stairs once again, my heart hammering a warning. Another activity good girls didn’t participate in was defying parents, and I couldn’t help worrying staying here with Cade tonight would be too bold of a step, even after I’d stood up to my dad. I spent the next few minutes digging through my pack, pleased to find a change of clothes in the bottom for the gym at work. Even a change of panties and a sports bra. Score. As long as Paul didn’t march up here and demand I go home lest he call my father, I could stay here and not have to do the walk of shame in the same clothes I’d arrived in. The win was a small one, but a win nonetheless. Cade returned as I was checking my phone for messages—none, text or otherwise. “Done,” he said. “What’d he say?” I asked. But I didn’t give him time to answer. “What did you say?” “I said don’t tell Morton, and he said okay.” I blinked. I think I was in shock. I didn’t move for a few seconds.

“I told him Morton told you to stay away from me but you couldn’t.” His smile turned cocky and my mouth compressed as I gave him a good-natured eye roll. Yes, I enjoyed seeing his confidence return full force, but he didn’t need to know that. Cade took my hand and tugged me from his love seat, then walked with me to his bed. In a rush, everything we’d done at the park came to mind. Cade’s head must have taken the same route. A second later his mouth hit mine, and he was working my shirt over my head. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, the lusty quality of my voice letting him know I had no complaints about what he was doing. He grinned. “Trust me.” He kissed me again. I let him remove my bra, then my skirt, and when I noticed there were no panties to remove, I realized it was because I’d left them in his car. Alarm shot through me. “Cade,” I whispered harshly as he backed me toward his bed. “My panties are in your front seat.” “Lucky me,” he said before closing his lips over mine. I was in Cade Wilson’s bedroom, his father on the other side of the house, and my underpants were in the front seat of Cade’s car. “I am not this girl,” I said when he cupped my breasts. “You’re my girl.” He ran his tongue over my bottom lip and then nipped me lightly before kissing his way down my throat. I’ll be damned if that statement didn’t shut down my worries as well as my defenses. By the time his lips closed over my breast, my mind took a vacation. Cade lifted me and laid me on the bed. Leaning on my elbows, I watched as he undressed. He grabbed his T-shirt from one side and peeled it over his head, revealing his hard-muscled torso and the tattoos tracking up one arm. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then stripped off his jeans. Him getting naked might’ve been the sexiest sight of my life. Him exposing inch after inch of his body. The dark shadows of the ink on his arm that I couldn’t make out in the dim light peeking through the blinds. He climbed into bed, his hot skin on mine, our hearts pounding the same hectic beat. He kissed his way down my collarbone and to my breasts, flicking the tip of each nipple with his tongue. I moaned his name, or thought I did. Maybe it just echoed in my mind. He moved to my thighs, slicking his tongue between my legs. I gasped, a high-pitched, surprised sound. I was still sensitive from his earlier assault, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if I came on contact. He didn’t linger. Instead, he climbed my body and pressed a kiss to my lips. “You have to be quiet, Tasha. I’ve heard you come, and even though we’re on the other side of the house, I know you’re loud enough to wake my dad.” He smirked and I blushed, having no idea if he was teasing me or if I was really that loud. I hadn’t thought about it in the park. “Can you do that?” he asked, a glimmer in his eyes. This was his game. I was a willing participant.

“I’ll be quiet,” I promised, biting down on my lip and batting my eyelashes for show. “Good girl, kitten.” Lord help me. I nearly came then. Cade left me briefly to pull a box of condoms from his nightstand. This was really happening. We were really doing this. I know, we’d done almost everything else, but this—sex —was a big deal. A huge deal. Even knowing the way things might change, I couldn’t argue. I wanted him. He gave his erection a couple of strokes, and I stared openly. Anticipation was a wriggling beast in my belly as he rolled the condom over his length. This is it, this is it, this is it, I silently cheered. He planted his fists on either side of the pillow where my head rested, positioned over me like some dark, hungry predator. “Remember your promise,” he murmured, then kissed me. I grasped his shoulders, loving the hard, hot feel of him under my hands. Sliding my hands down his biceps, over his forearms, I tried to slow my racing heart. It was no use. By the time the tip of his cock glided along my slick entrance, I worried I could have a heart attack before it ever happened. He pushed his hips forward and slipped inside, filling me. My mouth dropped open, and the sharp sound that would have split the air between us died when Cade covered my mouth with his. Then he lifted his face and winked. I pressed my lips together and willed my vocal cords to be still. He moved slowly, his deep, intentional thrusts stretching me. I held on to him as he glided in and out, tracing the lines of his strong back with my fingertips and cradling his hips with my crossed legs. His eyes were closed, his lashes brushing his cheeks. I leaned up and kissed his full mouth, savoring his flavor. Watching him, feeling him, being here with him. Totally with him. My mind was only on us, on every subtle shift and sound and movement. Cade was everything I never knew I wanted. There was only him. There was only me. Only our rapidly approaching releases. “Tasha,” he said, his voice broken, desperate. “I’m ready.” I knew what he wanted. It was what I wanted. He slid one hand down my body, cupped my bottom, and tilted my hips. Then he drove down to meet me, deeper and harder than before. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming his name. He did it again, and I scrunched my eyes closed, my body buzzing. Cade was grunting in my ear, and the bed was creaking, and I was making desperate, needy noises despite my effort to remain quiet. “Let go, Tash. Say my name.” “Cade,” I whispered, hurtling toward my release. “Louder,” he grunted, slamming into me again. “Cade!” I came, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as a sob tore from my throat. Cade followed, his thrusts matching the pounding of my heart as my cries of release wound into murmurs of wordless appreciation.

His body came to rest between my legs, his lips against my neck. We lay there in the silence, the sweat cooling our bodies as labored breaths sawed from our lungs. He pressed a kiss to my lips and, eyes on mine, pulled out. I missed him instantly. He strutted, bare-assed, to the bathroom across the room and shut the door. I threw an arm over my forehead and blew out a breath, tingles traveling the length of my body and back. Wow. Cade returned, and fatigue hit me like a Mack truck. After a day spent in class, confronting my dad and my ex (twice), and making love to Cade for the first time, I could sleep. I smiled to myself. Making love to Cade. For the first time. Cade knew exactly what to do to turn me on. Even that game of “keep it down” was an excuse to let me cry out when he decided. He was unlike anyone I’d ever known. I liked him way too much. I curled around one of his pillows and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. Whatever happened next between us, I hoped it included more of this.

Cade No way could my father hear us from the other side of the house. But I liked challenging Tasha, and I liked the way she’d accepted my challenge. Letting me determine when she could call my name. My command of “Louder” and her screaming my name in ecstasy had me coming harder than I ever had in my life. It was amazing. I wanted her loose and wild. I wanted her again. I didn’t want this to end. She was lying on my bed, cuddling a pillow. I could only see the tip of her cute nose and open eyes, her blond hair rippling over her shoulder. The line of her body was like looking at a work of art. The curve of her shoulder to the indentations of her ribs to the swell of her hips. She was gorgeous. And in my bed. I climbed in and took the pillow’s place. I loved touching her. I loved the way she felt against me. We hadn’t made any declarations, but I felt like she belonged with me. I squeezed her hip, imagining what that might look like—us together. She grasped my left shoulder. “Tell me about your tattoos.” I couldn’t wait to blow her away when I spoke without a stutter. I’d practiced just now in the bathroom mirror, under my breath, reciting a verse from one of my favorite songs. Not a single hesitation from brain to mouth. I didn’t dare think a miracle had occurred, but there had been a noticeable shift. I felt more in control than I had in a long while, like before I skidded Blue into that fire hydrant. It was nice to feel like my old self…well, not my old self but a merger of old and new. The man I was when I was with Tasha. “What do you want to know?” I asked, casually running my fingers over her hip. How she

could’ve ever thought she was less than physically perfect was beyond me. “What’s this?” Her hand moved to trace the tattoo of a circle on my bicep. “Speedometer,” I said of the contemporary design. “Ahh. I see it now.” She traced the circle, then the needle pointing at what I liked to think was 120 miles per hour. “What does the moon mean?” A crescent with stars wound around my biceps. “I like the night.” “This one I really like.” She stroked the tattoo on my forearm—an American flag unfurling into a checkered flag. “Lawyer and racer,” I said with a smile. It was my favorite too. “Wolf?” she asked, moving her fingertips to the animal’s profile on my shoulder. “Fox,” I corrected. “A fox?” She wrinkled her nose, too damned cute naked and next to me. “Silver-tongued fox.” Fuck, I liked the way that rolled off my tongue. “I’ll say,” she breathed against my lips before kissing me. I couldn’t have been more proud of how far I’d come. At the compliment of having a satisfied Tasha Montgomery trust me with every single part of her. “Come here,” I said, lifting the blankets and covering us both. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I wanted to hold her and sleep in and deal with tomorrow when it came. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, loving the way she wrapped an arm around my waist and smashed her naked breasts against me. Mine, my mind echoed. I didn’t overthink it. — “You’re in a good mood tonight,” Devlin pointed out, stepping from his office at Oak & Sage and locking the door behind him. I shrugged as I lined the trash can with a fresh bag. He grinned. Wide. “What?” I barked. “Didn’t peg you for a bang-in-the-park kind of guy, but whatever.” The rest of the kitchen crew had gone, which left just Devlin and me—and the dishwasher, who was noisily finishing a final load. For that reason, I didn’t pummel my half brother into silence. “Fuck,” I said. Stupid Baron. “Well, if you want to be crass about it, I guess you could call it fucking.” Devlin was still grinning, the bastard. The dishwasher, a short guy named Juan, poked his head around the corner. “Finished, boss,” he told Dev. “Thanks, man. Go out the side. We’ll lock up.” Once Juan had gone, Dev turned back to me. “Baron told Roy. Roy told Rena’s mom.” I put a hand to my head and massaged my now-aching head. “Rena’s mom knows?” I

dragged that letter M out a little, but maybe it was because I wasn’t happy to hear how this news had trickled to parents who didn’t need to know these sorts of things. “She knows you were in the park after hours. I think Roy spared her Baron’s opinion that you and Tasha were doing something other than therapy.” He tilted his head, sending his longish black hair over his forehead, and narrowed his eyes. “Seems to be working, though. Who knew the way to untangle tongue was through your dick?” I muttered a surly “Fuck off,” but my smile emerged the second I turned my back to him. I couldn’t help it. Remembering what Tasha and I did together made me happy. Happy was a new emotion for me. I could get used to it. Devlin’s phone chimed behind me as he was shutting off the lights. “Rena’s here. Let her in?” he said as I walked to the side door. Then my heart stopped. Rena was there, but so was Tash. I hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning. We had waited for Paul to leave for work before we came out of the bedroom (her request), and then I’d driven her home. I didn’t realize until I was looking at her how much I’d missed her. I unlocked and pushed open the door. Rena grinned knowingly at me. “I know,” I grumbled. “You know.” “Oh,” Rena said, her smile turning evil. “But I know so much more than you think I know.” She winked at me before walking straight to Devlin. Then they started making out as Tasha and I exchanged glances. “Hi,” she said, biting down on her lip. “How was your—” Pulling her close, I kissed her. Sweetly. I didn’t care if Devlin was behind me. I only cared about getting a taste of my girl’s mouth and reacquainting myself with her flavor. As delicious as I remembered. She pulled her lips from mine, her eyes opening a second later. I liked watching her lips pull gently to the sides. I liked being the one who made her smile. I liked her, period. “How was your day?” she asked, her hands resting on my chest. “Good and getting better,” I answered. I’d even spoken a few times in the kitchen. I decided today that whether or not I stumbled over a letter, I wasn’t walking around mute any longer. I hadn’t talked to Hamilton directly, but the sniveling salad guy had gone slack-jawed when I pointed and said, “Hand me that bus tub, Slick.” It was priceless. “Who wants a drink?” Devlin asked. “I’m buying.”

Chapter 15 Tasha Since Cade had worked today, and Rena had the day off, after my classes I went out with her for a while. And, okay, you guessed it. I told her absolutely everything. And I don’t mean I told her almost everything. I mean I told her everything. I had to tell somebody, and who better to ask for sex advice than my best friend? I trusted Rena. She trusted me. She was my ultimate safe space. So after she’d stopped squealing about how happy she was for me, and how nice it was that Tony knew I’d moved on, Rena and I went shopping. Well, I went shopping. Rena sort of moped around with her shoulders down, groaning about how we were looking at clothes she didn’t want to buy. She was a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Me, I couldn’t leave without the black and white striped dress I wore now. Given the spark that lit Cade’s eyes when he saw me, I was considering it a very good purchase. Devlin herded us to the bar and promptly served drinks like an old pro. We sat, wine in front of Rena and me and beers in front of the boys, enjoying the barely lit restaurant. I liked being here when Oak & Sage was closed. It felt kind of wrong. I liked that about as much as I liked everything else I was doing that felt kind of wrong. I cocked my head at Cade. Was I exorcising a few demons with him, or were my feelings for him real? Too soon to tell. “You look incredible,” he told me. “Thank you.” I fingered the hem of the dress, which stopped way, way short of my knees, liking how he watched hungrily when I inched it higher up my thighs. “If you two would like to stop gazing into each other’s eyes for a few precious seconds,” Devlin said, “I would like to borrow Cade for a round of quarters.” “You’ll lose,” Cade said, back straight, a look of challenge in his eyes. Sexy. “We’ll see.” Dev flipped a quarter in the direction of a beer glass a few feet away. It landed in the bottom with a plink. “Go.” I nudged Cade. “Kick your brother’s ass.” He grinned at me, then leaned over and kissed me long and slow. While Cade and Devlin set up their game at a corner booth, Rena picked up her wineglass and moved to the seat next to me. “Has it graduated to the boyfriend stage yet?” She stole a glance at our guys across the room. I knew she was digging, but I had kicked that door open today. I wanted to talk about it. I needed to talk about it.

“Honestly?” I put down my wineglass. “I’m not really sure what to call it. We’re friends. And the sex is…Well, I told you about it.” “If memory serves, you used the words ‘mind-blowing,’ ‘tooth-tingling,’ and ‘kneenumbing.’ ” “I never said ‘knee-numbing.’ ” Though it wasn’t untrue. A deeper truth was that Cade made me feel worthy. Protected. “He’s different than he was before,” Rena said, eyes narrowed on Cade. A quarter hit the edge of the glass and then the floor, and Devlin shouted in triumph at the bad toss. “In the few months I’ve been around him, he’s changed.” I hoped he was different because of me. Was that selfish? I liked to think I’d contributed to his life in a positive way. He was changing my life in ways I doubted it would have changed without him. Rena was right, though. Cade had changed. He’d gone from a cocky, smart-mouthed jerk to a cocky, silver-tongued hunk. Almost silver-tongued. I knew he wasn’t totally out of the woods, but he was doing so well. “Devlin was telling me about the girlfriend Cade was seeing his freshman year,” Rena said, her voice low. “It kind of makes sense why he was such a jerk after she left. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to…” She trailed off, probably because she noticed that a completely mournful expression had overtaken my face. “Oh, Tasha. You didn’t know?” I shook my head, slicing a glance at Cade, then back to her. “I’m sorry.” Rena winced, her expression suggesting she hadn’t meant to overstep. “It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “We only just started…” I didn’t finish that because the truth was I wasn’t sure what to say. What had we “just started”? Sleeping together? Communicating like civilized human beings? Exercising independence from our parents? I didn’t know how to fill in that blank, and I wasn’t sure if it was too soon for that conversation or too late. “Anyway, that’s not the point.” Rena smiled. “You two are embarking on something new, and you should explore that without me causing problems in any way. No more gossip.” She pretended to zip her lips, lock them, and throw away the key. I shook my head vehemently. “You are not causing problems, Rena. Whatever he did freshman year is none of my business. It’s not like I’ve told him everything about my past boyfriends.” Only I kind of had. Tony was the totality of my past boyfriends. I might play the part of the flirt, but I hadn’t dated anyone else long term. Tony was my first. And now, Cade. Cade and I hadn’t had that conversation. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I didn’t want Cade’s past to be a big deal either. Only now…I felt like it was. After the boys played quarters, we settled at the bar as a foursome and I did my best to block out what I had gleaned out about Cade’s past. “All right. Time to take you home.” Devlin, stone sober—though I had no idea how— wrapped a drunken Rena in his arms. Her eyes were at half-mast, her smile loose and cute and a little sloppy. Just like her long, dark ponytail. “I can drive you home,” I told Cade. Then wrinkled my nose. “I think. Is Blue 2 hard to

navigate?” “She’s big,” Cade said. “But you can do it.” I reached into my purse for money, but Rena shoved my hand back inside the bag, her voice slightly slurred when she commanded, “Don’t you dare leave a single dollar on this bar.” “Yeah,” Devlin said, “Make Cade pay.” Rena clucked her tongue, and Dev sent her a wink. I felt my belly go warm at how much they meant to each other. “We don’t expect money from you either,” Rena told Cade. We. I loved the way Rena took on Oak & Sage as if it was her restaurant as much as it was Devlin’s. Those two had gelled. Despite the lack of a wedding ring, or any other official future plans, Devlin and Rena were a unit. It challenged absolutely everything I thought I knew of tradition. What I thought I wanted. Who I thought I was. Stability had always been important to me. Even while my parents went through their bitter divorce when I was in the ninth grade, I knew I wanted to get married someday. When I had dated Tony, I thought we would end up together permanently. We fit. He was studying sports medicine; I was studying physical therapy. We’d planned to travel during our twenties and start a family in our thirties, and our forties seemed light-years away, so we didn’t even talk that far out. I wondered again about Cade’s girlfriend. If they’d made plans. Cade placed his palm firmly on my knee, and I snapped out of my thoughts. “Ready?” he asked, his eyes steady. I nodded. “More therapy?” Devlin asked, coming out from behind the bar. “Interesting services you offer, Tash. Maybe you could teach Rena a few of your tricks.” “Watch it.” Cade’s voice was low, a little dangerous, and sent a trail of goosebumps up my arms. I liked it when he sounded dangerous. “I can’t get used to you like this.” Devlin spoke to Cade, arms folded over his chest. Then he glanced at me, his eyebrows lifting. “Both of you.” “Thank you for the drinks,” I said. “I guess we’ll just…” I sought Cade’s eyes for an answer but didn’t see it there. “Get out of here.” Driving him home meant going to his place, unless he wanted me to take him to my apartment. Which was tempting and exciting. “You’re welcome. Hey, little brother,” Devlin said, and Cade’s expression slipped into one of mild disdain. “Be good.” Cade walked me to Blue 2 and put the keys in my hand. He pressed me against the passenger door, caging me with his arms. “What’s your bedroom like, Tasha?” “How much have you had to drink?” I asked with a breathy giggle. He shook his head. “Enough that I don’t want to have a run-in with Baron again, but not so much that I’m worried you’ll take advantage of me. I grinned. So did he. “Invite me over,” he said, lips hovering over mine. I tilted my head, but he pulled away, not kissing me.

“Tasha,” he whispered. “Want to come to my place?” A zing of excitement echoed through me when he bit down on his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.” His eyes turned down for a second, but when I would have worried he was beating himself up for the stammer, he turned his golden eyes on me. A small smirk lifted half of his mouth. “Sounds like I n-need therapy.” “Do you need to grab anything from your house first?” I draped my arms over his neck, my heart racing at the idea of the contrasting sight of tattooed Cade on my pastel bedding. Imagining him there was sexy as hell—all those corded muscles wrapped in Egyptian sheets and a thick down comforter. He pressed a kiss to my mouth. “I’ll u-use your toothbrush.” “Eww!” I teased, but he kept his smile as he got in the car.

Cade She invited me over. That was the only thought circling my brain on the ride to her place. It felt like a win— another boundary she’d let me step over. Yeah, I’d been to her apartment before, but that was before we’d had sex. Before she’d let me sweep her into my arms and kiss her. Before I knew what she sounded like when she came. This was my chance to be with her in an environment where she could truly let herself go. I was kidding about the toothbrush. At my request, she swung into a convenience store on the way home, and I grabbed a stick of deodorant, a toothbrush, and condoms. I wasn’t sure if she had them, but it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. As she unlocked her apartment door, she sent a foxy little smile over her shoulder and I followed her heart-shaped ass inside. In the kitchen she poured herself a glass of wine. I could tell by the way her slender throat worked as she swallowed how nervous she was. Nervous after all we’d done? Maybe she was nervous because she was thinking of what we’d done the night before last. Body-to-body, hot-and-sweaty, moaning-panting sex followed by her in my arms. Knowing I was about to claim her for myself again had the blood roaring through my veins. I had the bizarre urge to beat my chest. On the opposite side of the counter, she smiled demurely up at me. That short striped dress was killing me in the best way. Sexy and simple, and those legs… Her blond hair sat on her shoulders, thick black lashes darting downward as she lifted her wineglass and took a drink. “Do you want to watch some TV?” she asked after she licked her lips. I liked how she waited for me to come to her. That she wanted me to pursue her. For now, an ugly part of my brain chimed in. Between running the trash to the dumpster and sliding across the grease-covered floors at work tonight, I’d thought about how I couldn’t give a girl like Tasha what she deserved. But there was one thing I could give her that no other guy could.

Me. My attention. My body. “No TV,” I said. “I could use a quick shower, though.” I’d tugged on a clean T-shirt and jeans at the restaurant. I always kept a change of clothes in my locker, but it’d be nice to wash my hair. “No shower. Let’s get dirty first.” She blushed. I liked her timid. It made me bold. I came around the counter and wrapped my arms around her lower back. My fingertips wanted to go lower to cup her bottom, but I resisted for a moment longer. She was being sweet. I wanted to try it. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around my neck like she had out by my car. I liked when she did that, and the way her eyes turned up to my face. I lowered my lips to taste hers, and she kissed me back. Then she pulled her lips from mine to kiss the underside of my jaw. She tongued the hollow of my throat, peppering kisses along the side of my neck. I threaded her hair through my fingers, forgetting my intention to seduce her as she seduced me instead. A shot like a lightning bolt zipped down my spine when she lashed her tongue against my Adam’s apple. God. Her mouth on me. I’d never been so turned on. I tightened my grip around her soft, silken hair, out of my mind with wanting her. She drove me crazy. I held her to me, one hand in her hair, one fist wrenched around the material of her dress. I hauled her skirt up and cupped her ass. Her bare ass. I trailed my fingers along those cheeks and found the string of her thong. A fucking thong. My erection hardened as she scraped her teeth up my neck and stuck her tongue in my ear. A growl sounded between us—mine. She wasn’t wasting any time. Her fingers glided beneath my shirt and her nails raked my abs, my pecs, and over my nipples. Her mouth hit my chest, lighting me up with a series of damp kisses. The idea of going slow went out the window. I lifted her chin and slammed my mouth over hers, flattening my palm against her ass and pressing her closer. Her tongue stroked mine again and again, and that lightning bolt I mentioned earlier? My bones hummed like I’d been plugged into a power source. “Amazing,” I murmured between kisses, unable to keep from voicing how damn good she tasted and felt. I bent my knees and lifted her, setting her on the kitchen island. She squeaked in surprise. “I do have a bed,” she said. “C-counter.” It was the only word I bothered to say. The rest I’d show her. I took off her dress and tossed it over my shoulder, loving when she didn’t cover her body. She hadn’t hidden from me since the first time I’d stripped her in my bedroom. We’d come a long way. Under the bright lights of her kitchen, she didn’t act a bit shy. “You are beautiful.” I stroked her hair and her eyes went soft. It was what she needed to hear, but it was also the truth. I unhooked her bra and freed her breasts, cradling those smooth, pert globes in my hands.

She threw her head back when I tugged, teasing her nipples with my thumbs and forefingers. Her hands went to my jeans, wrestled my fly open, and then she was stroking me. “Cade, please. Take me to bed.” It was the “please” that changed my mind. I lifted her from the counter and set her on her feet. She looked crazy sexy standing there, her hair wild, cheeks flushed, wearing naught but a pair of microscopic panties. “Run,” I commanded. I swatted her butt, then chased her the short distance to her bedroom. When I reached the doorway, she was backing away from me toward a very big, very plushlooking bed. I yanked my shirt off, then reached for my jeans. Her smile ebbed, that sweet, tender look on her face again. Eyes locked with hers, I shed my jeans and kicked off my shoes. Socks went next. I stood in boxer briefs, her in a scrap of white lace. Her thumbs hooked the edges of the thong and my mouth went dry. There was nothing like Tasha naked. The air between us contained enough heat to ignite the entire building. My erection throbbed against the thin confines of my underwear when she shimmied her hips and slipped the panties down her legs. She came to me, dark intention in her eyes. Her hands went to my briefs and she dragged them down my legs, sinking to her knees in the process. Fingers dashed along my legs and thighs, whispered over my cock. I watched her, she watched me, and there in the silence of her bedroom we breathed each other’s air for a few seconds and we just…were. She skimmed my body as she stood, pressing her belly against my hard-on. I bent my head and took her lips in an insistent kiss, cupping her hips in my palms and backing her toward a big bed that looked like heaven on earth. Then I dropped her onto the blankets and realized it was. Because there was no real earthly place where I would have Tasha Montgomery begging me with her eyes to sleep with her. This had to be heaven—or some crazy virtual reality. Covering her with my body, our skin melded as our lips sought. Breaths and groans filled the air. My mind spun, eager for the slice of paradise she promised. “Condom,” she said around a kiss, “in my”—another kiss—“nightstand.” No need to track back to the kitchen for the box I’d bought, then. Nice. I crawled to the right. “The other nightstand,” she said with a giggle, her nails rasping my stomach. I switched course and dug out a condom. Straddling her thighs, I rolled it on. Tasha’s tongue darted out to wet her lips and I was over her, my eyes burning into hers, a second later. With a tilt and thrust, I slicked her entrance. Her fingertips pressed into my ribs, her mouth dropping open with the same anticipation boiling in my veins. But I wasn’t going any further. Not yet. I needed to hear, more than anything, that she wanted me. I needed to hear it before I pounded us both into sweet oblivion. “T-Tasha” was the only word I managed before she covered my lips with hers, dug her heels

into my ass, and pulled me inside her. I took that as a fucking yes.

Tasha The feeling of Cade moving inside me, the way he watched me, tasted my lips during each long thrust, made my heart ratchet up one notch followed by a thousand more. Something explosive was happening between us. Something I couldn’t get enough of. More than sex, though I had no idea what it was. I ran my fingers along the colorful tattoos scattered down his arm. His muscles flexed with each forward movement. I shifted to meet his eyes, light brown gone dark while he made love to me with a single-mindedness I’d never experienced. He saw me. Really saw me. He wasn’t interested in his own body but in me. He’d move, then assess my reaction to see if I liked it. I liked all of it. All of him. I moved with him, learning our timing and holding his eyes until it was too intense and I had to look away. He brought me back to him by sliding a hand between our bodies and swirling my clit with his thumb as he thrust forward. This time I didn’t look away. He did it again and I clutched, my legs locking around him. Then he did it again. “Don’t hold back,” he said between hectic breaths. He stroked into me again, and a cry tore from my throat. He continued and that cry turned into my shouting his name on the crest of my release, not caring how many neighbors heard me. The tail end of that cry mingled with his primal groan of satisfaction. He came on one final plunge, one that brought his face to my neck, where he alternated between catching his breath and kissing me. I hugged him close, ruffling his hair with my fingernails, turning my head to kiss his ear. “Cade,” I whispered as our hearts raced in sync. He disconnected from me, one long smooth pull, and our eyes met again. His mouth, his amazing, tempting mouth, wore a crooked smile. “Bathroom?” I pointed to the attached bath in my bedroom. He kissed my nose in the sweetest way before climbing over me and heading there without a word. I hummed in the back of my throat, feeling pretty damn great. — Half an hour later I was wearing Cade’s T-shirt—since my new dress had been unceremoniously tossed to the kitchen floor. He’d rested his head on my belly, one arm looped around my waist. I fiddled with the strands of his hair, admiring the various colors of dark blond and sandy brown I couldn’t accomplish without a colorist. That was as unfair as the thick fan of lashes that shuttered his eyes. No mascara required. “Tell me why you went into pre-law,” I said, before I thought too hard about it. “What do you mean?”

I sucked in a deep breath as I debated telling him what I knew. Then again, my best friend was dating his brother, so the truth would come out eventually. So. Here we went. “Rena mentioned a girl you followed to college?” Cade’s body stiffened against mine, his arms going taut. He didn’t lift his head to look at me, so I continued to play with his hair. “Brooke,” he said, his voice quiet. “What happened?” I asked. I didn’t want to know. But I kind of did. When he didn’t answer for a long while, I put my palm on his cheek and slid deeper into the blankets so I could study his angled face and full lips in the lamplight. His fingers interlaced with mine and he kissed my palm. “She l-left me.” I watched his jaw tic in frustration. “But you kept your law major.” “I w-was g-good at it. Was,” he said with a forced huff. “She wanted you to be a lawyer?” “She wanted me be rich. L-like her.” I didn’t know what to do with that. Caden Wilson had dated a rich girl. Had followed a rich girl to college. “Where is she now?” “D-dropped out. Didn’t finish her freshman year. She got pruh-pregnant by some guy.” I feathered my fingers through his hair. “You loved her.” It wasn’t a question. One didn’t follow a girl to college, go into the field she requested, and then get left behind without suffering a broken heart in the process. “Doesn’t matter.” His voice was low, and I could tell he was just about done talking about this. I wanted to know, but not out of petty jealousy. I wanted to know if he was capable of loving anyone else. If he was capable of loving me. It was way too soon to ask. But I wanted to all the same. “Do you miss school?” I asked instead. He sucked in a breath and I thought he might climb off the bed and leave the room. Instead, he propped himself on one elbow and tipped my chin with his finger. “I don’t want to be a l-lawyer, T-Tasha. Not anymore.” I fell quiet for a few seconds. “Why not?” He gestured to the vicinity of his mouth. “I don’t know,” I said, raking my fingers over his bare chest. All that gorgeous muscle wrapped in smooth skin. “I think you use your tongue just fine.” I leaned forward to place my lips on his. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said against my mouth, a glint in his eye sparking in challenge. With that, he tossed the blankets off my body and lifted the shirt I wore, kissing my stomach while I laughed hysterically, because his lips, while delicious, were also tickling me half to death.

“Cade!” I shrieked, palming his head. He captured my wrists and pinned them to my sides and kissed down my thighs, then nuzzled his face over my… Oh. I stiffened. His tongue slicked a hot path and I arched my neck. A few minutes later, I sank into oblivion and he sank with me. Lost in an epic orgasm, and then in his arms, which wrapped me snugly. He kissed my forehead. “Night, Tash.” “Night, Cade.” Those were the last words we spoke until the sun peeked over the horizon and filled my room with light.

Chapter 16 Cade “Weirdest breakfast I’ve ever seen.” Tasha shook her head at me or, more accurately, at the peanut butter and honey sandwich I was making. We’d slept until ten. Tasha skipped class, which meant neither of us had to go to our respective jobs until late afternoon. We had all day, and I was going to make the most of it. “It’s good.” I drizzled honey onto the other slice of bread. “My mom used to make them.” I put the sandwich together and mumbled, “I mean, J-Joyce.” Tasha’s hand rested between my shoulder blades. “You mean your mom.” I shrugged. “I’m not that close with my mom, even though we were close at one point,” Tasha said. “But she still loves me. I still love her. I’m sure Joyce loves you no matter what choices you made last year after you found out the truth. You have the right to maintain your distance. She meant well, but she hurt you.” “It’s messed up,” I said simply. “It is,” Tash agreed. My finger caught a drop of honey that oozed from the tip of the plastic bear, and a wholly impure thought ignited my brain like a forest fire. I sent a wicked look over to Tash, whose eyebrows rose. “What?” I turned and held that stray drop to her lips. “You like honey?” “Yes.” An impish smile appeared a second before her tongue flicked out and took the drop from my fingertip. “Not as much as me,” I told her and, bear in hand, took a step in her direction. “Wait.” She held up her hands. “What…do you think you’re doing?” I closed an arm around her back and pulled her close. “Take off your shirt,” I told her. She crossed her arms over her waist and stripped the shirt over her head. Her breasts were bare, nipples begging for my tongue. But first, the honey. I put the plastic bear down and lifted her onto the kitchen island, where I’d planted her ass last night. I’d abandoned the counter in favor of the bed, but no way was I giving up this time. I upended the bear and drizzled honey over her nipple as she gasped. Gooseflesh popped up on her skin and I chased the path with my tongue. Her giggling soon faded to moans and a lot of hair pulling when I diligently removed every drop from her nipple.

“One down,” I said, sweetness clinging to my tongue. Best breakfast ever. I moved to her other breast and repeated the entire sticky, delicious process. The honey was slick on her skin, and the way she clutched my head, moaning for all she was worth, wasn’t bad either. I was doing a good job of turning myself on too. Without taking my mouth from her breast, I opened my jeans and put my hand on my cock, stroking while I suckled her, and wanting her so badly, I could hardly think. A series of high-pitched pleas escaped from her throat as she pulled my hair. I continued laving her, alternating between sucking her deep and letting her go to swirl my tongue over her hardened nipple. When she said my name and her voice cracked in ecstasy, I had to let go of my cock before I came in my hand rather than inside her. I wanted to be inside her. I laid her on the island, drizzling more honey over her breasts, stomach, and a small pool into her belly button. Then I peeled her panties off, this pair green with little white bows on each side. Her underwear made me crazy in the best way. “Not there,” she said, sitting up halfway. “Not putting it th-there,” I told her. “You’re already sweet there.” She smiled and blushed. I liked that look on her way too much. I glided my fingers over her pussy. She was slick and ready and I teased her clit before pushing a finger into her, then two, fucking her while I removed every drop of honey from her body. She writhed, her back arching as her hands held the sides of the counter. I just watched. I had never done anything like this, and I’d bet she hadn’t either. But she was willing to with me. Tasha would let me take her where she needed to go. Where I needed to go. “Beautiful,” I told her, trailing my tongue to her throat. I caught her shuddering gasps with a kiss. Then her arms were around me and she was sitting up, pulling my hands away and gluing herself to my bare chest. I took her weight, lifting her from the counter and carrying her clumsily to the living room. I hesitated over the couch for a millisecond, and she must have read my mind. “I don’t care about the couch.” Good. Neither did I. I dropped her onto the cushions, shucking my pants and boxers before coming down on top of her. I kissed her, wishing like hell I didn’t have to stop for the condom. “Hang on,” I told her, abandoning her for exactly two seconds to grab a condom from the discarded CVS bag. I tore the package open, ripped a condom from the strip, and shakily rolled it on. Then I was inside her, moving, sliding, the honey sticky between us, but we didn’t care. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me to her. I’d let this girl do anything to me or with me. In the midst of the best sex of my life, I realized this might have been the first time since Brooke left me that I actually enjoyed losing control. Which made me wonder… Could I lose control but still speak?

“Tasha,” I said, then smiled. She brushed her fingers over my mouth, her smile genuine, her cheeks flushed. I bit down on her finger. “Tasha Montgomery,” I said, as smooth as my next glide inside her and back out. “I want you to come.” I thrust again. She let out a cry. “Come hard for me, kitten.” By the expression on her face, I could tell she was lost between bliss and bemusement. “You’re showing off,” she said. “Damn straight.” She knew my secrets. That was a new feeling too. “Let’s have it.” I doubled my efforts, sinking into her deeper, harder. She begged me for more. “Almost, almost, almost,” came her chant. I tipped her hips and drove into her again and she came like I asked. Hard. Her internal muscles squeezed down on my cock, the sensation almost punishing in the amount of pleasure it gave. I’d been concentrating on her, so I wasn’t sure if I would be able to— “Oh, fuck,” I said, and yeah, I was able to. I lost myself in her body, my moans drowning out her sweet sighs of satisfaction. My lips found hers and I continued shuddering long after it was over. That’s when I knew. I was gone for this girl.

Tasha “Your smile is that of a Cheshire cat, beautiful.” My, but Mr. Newman was feisty today. I shook my head to deny it. “My guess is you started dating that boyfriend you were wanting since the last time I saw you.” “He’s not my boyfriend.” But I wanted him to be. Though “dating” seemed a tame and antiquated way to describe what we’d done on my now-in-need-of-a-cleaning sofa. “Ah, I figure it’s his fault,” Mr. Newman said as he took another shaky step. “What’s his fault?” I asked, supporting him by the elbow. “Everything.” Mr. Newman cocked his bushy eyebrows at me, knowledge swimming in his gray eyes. “Everything is the man’s fault. Women are the delicate creatures we want to catch, but we always screw it up.” He paused, supporting his weight with his arms on the poles. “You’re like the butterfly, but we’re too stupid to come after you with a net, so we grab a catcher’s mitt.” I thought of Tony and smirked. “Or a ball bat.” “Right.” His brow creased in worry. “But you don’t mean that literally, right? That a boy came at you with the ball bat? That’s a metaphor?” “Yes,” I said with a smile. “That’s a metaphor. My ex-boyfriend didn’t use a bat, but he did start playing the field. There were a lot more girls in that field than I first realized.” “One of those,” he snarled.

“Yep.” “I hope your new boyfriend is loyal.” “He is,” I said. “I mean…he would be if we were serious.” Mr. Newman began his steps again, sluggish, but he was committed. “From the dazed expression on your face,” he said between labored breaths, “looks like it’s already serious for you.”

Cade Paul was frowning at me, and I was used to him frowning at me, but usually it was because I didn’t say anything to him. This time around, my father frowned because I had just said a whole lot of things to him, none of which he wanted to hear. “No.” He shook his head as if I had asked a question rather than made a statement. “I won’t let you do it, Cade. I won’t let you quit college after you’ve come this far with your speech. You wanted to be a lawyer. You are going back to college. Just because—” “Just because my three partners have surpassed me? Just because I’ve lost every ounce of passion for law since the accident?” I hadn’t stammered or stuttered once since I left Tasha’s house this morning. I felt such a stab of certainty about my future, every word flowed easily. My dad, though I suspected he was impressed, was shaking his head at my insistence that lawyering was not for me. “You can finish your bachelor’s degree,” he said. “Go to law school from there.” Which would require almost every waking moment of my life. I thought of Tasha, frowning at how little I’d see her if I resumed my full class load. I’d followed a girl to school who left me once. Was I leaving school for a girl this time? “I’m sure your friends will let you move in. You can study together. It might be to your benefit that they’re a year ahead of you.” “No,” I growled. “Dammit, Cade! Finish what you started.” “I don’t want to finish what I s-started.” Shit. He’d rattled me, and it was starting to show. I pulled a sharp breath in through my nose and closed my eyes. I heard Tasha’s voice in my head telling me to relax. When I opened my eyes, my dad wasn’t frowning at me. He was looking at me like I was fragile, and that was so much worse. His voice was soft when he spoke next. “Son, I want you to have an opportunity to make something of yourself.” “I’m good with cars,” I stated, speaking slowly. “I can make something of myself in the garage.” “No street racing, Cade. I mean it.” “Do you th-think I’m that big of an idiot?” My pulse skyrocketed. “I don’t think you are an idiot at all. But take it from a guy who knows how addictive illegal activities are,” my dad said. “It was easy money for you.”

That was it. I’d had it. I pushed out of the kitchen chair and stood, planting my fists on the table. He stood with me. Unlike last year, when he was neck deep in gambling debts and had taken to eating ice cream like it was a sport, he had recently gotten back down to his old fighting weight. I wouldn’t be throwing punches at my old man ever again. I was different and so was he. Plus, he would throw one back. “Street racing cost me more than I made,” I said, dragging out the M sound a bit too long. He looked away for a second, then looked back at me. “Then take this opportunity, what you’ve worked so hard to regain after losing it, and go back to school.” “I don’t want to be a lawyer, Dad.” I wanted Tasha. I wanted to be underneath a car for the majority of the day. What I didn’t want was to carry a bus tub through a greasy kitchen five nights a week. What I didn’t want was test anxiety, or trying to fit in with my peers, or getting arrested for knocking Tony’s teeth out, which would happen if I ever ran into him at a party. “Think about it, son. That’s all I’m asking.” But I was done thinking. This time around, I was choosing my future. And it had nothing to do with my past. “Where are you going?” my dad called, but he sounded more tired than angry. “To see Tasha,” I said. To tell her my plan. To thank her for helping me gain control, not only of my speech issues but of my life. She would never ask me to do something I didn’t want to. My future was with her. I didn’t know yet how that was going to work out, or if she’d even have me, but if I had a chance with her, it was worth taking.

Chapter 17 Cade I swirled my tongue between Tasha’s legs one final time as she shuddered against me. Water from the shower was blinding me, damn near drowning me, and my knees were sore from kneeling on the hard surface of the tub, but I’d gladly lose feeling in my limbs if it meant hearing her lust-filled voice hug the vowels in my name. Caden. Oh, god, Caden. I liked when she used my full name. Swiping the water from my eyes, I stood and slid my tongue over her breasts on my way up. When I reached her mouth I kissed her, and she kissed me back, pushing my soaking-wet hair off my forehead. She was leaning against the back of her shower, ass pressed to the wall, eyes halfway shut. Her blond hair was a shade darker when it was wet. Mascara was smudged beneath her eyes. I swiped the black away with my thumbs and smiled. She smiled back. “I bet I’m a mess,” she said over the spray. “You look good enough to eat. But I already did that.” She kissed the smile off my face. I shut off the water and we climbed out and dried off, me scrubbing a towel over my head and body in record time. She wrapped a towel around her hair in that fancy way girls do, and I watched as she put her foot on the toilet seat to dry her leg. She put that foot on the floor, then dried her other leg and straightened to dry her stomach and then both arms. It was a show I could watch all day. “I can’t get enough of you,” I said. And damn, I hadn’t even meant to say it aloud. “Really?” She sounded surprised. I cleared my throat and owned up to my verbal blurt. “Yeah.” “You don’t think there will be another girl in a few months? That you’ll have had enough of me by then?” I knew where this was coming from, and I didn’t like it. “No.” Her towel was wrapped around her body, and I rested my palms on her hips. “There were a lot of other girls before me, Cade,” she said, pointing out a time in my life I wasn’t proud of. I was angry with Brooke at the time and, yes, there were other girls. They hadn’t meant much to me, but in all fairness, I hadn’t meant much to them either. “That’s true,” I admitted. “But before I turned sex into a sport, there was Brooke.” I swallowed thickly, not wanting to tell her this. “Before Brooke, there was no one.” Tasha’s eyebrows rose. “Not…anyone?” I shook my head. “We started dating when we were fifteen. After high school came college.

We were going to get married. She was it.” Tasha’s expression morphed into sympathy for me, and maybe a little hurt for her. I pulled her closer. “Then she was gone and my only goal was to forget her. I figured if I slept around enough, they would all blend together until I’d forget her completely.” Tasha frowned. She didn’t like hearing any of this. “And did they?” she asked, her voice small. “Blend?” “After a while. Until…they didn’t.” I wasn’t looking at her, but I could feel her stare boring a hole through my head. I met her eyes, needing to root myself so that I could admit what I needed to admit. “Until you, Tasha. You made me forget everyone else. Brooke. The other girls. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to say her name without feeling like I’ve been stabbed in the heart.” She put a palm on my cheek. “Cade.” I took a deep breath and told her what I told my dad earlier today. “I’m not going back to school, and I have you to thank.” Her brows pulled together in confusion. “I’m going to get a job at a garage. Maybe open my own someday.” The words leaving my mouth tasted bad. It wasn’t much to offer the girl standing in front of me, but Tasha didn’t ultimately care about money or her fancy car. She encouraged me to work hard, but not because she wanted me to be a lawyer. More because she wanted me to be happy. And I was. With her. “I’m good with cars. I’m great with cars. If I’d never dated Brooke, that’s the path I would have chosen. I believe that now. I was on the wrong track.” I put my hand over hers on my cheek. “But the accident led me to the right one.” “But school…” Tasha pulled her hand away. My heart sank the slightest bit. Cautiously, I said, “It’s not for me.” Rather than looking happy, or kissing me, or telling me she would accept me no matter who signed my paycheck, her face contorted until it looked a lot like my dad’s earlier. Like I was a baby bird that had tumbled from the nest and was peeping for help from a nearby bush. She looked worried, and like she didn’t know if she should interfere or not. “You are great with cars,” she said, her tone borderline patronizing. “It’s wonderful to have a passion. A hobby…” At the word “hobby,” her voice faded beneath my thundering heartbeat. She was still talking, but I only caught every other phrase. “…don’t want you to give up on yourself…make something of your life…never stop chasing on your dreams…” Every word hit me like a punch to the kidney. My stomach soured; my entire body went on high alert. I blinked at Tasha like I was seeing a stranger. My God. I was wrong about her. She was just like Brooke. Tasha Montgomery didn’t want to be with a grease monkey. Didn’t want to live a bluecollar life with a blue-collar paycheck. I knew Tony Fry’s family had connections with the

NFL. She and Tony hadn’t planned on slaving away at a local rehab facility or the VA. They’d be on the sidelines. Raking in the cash. She was still talking when I interrupted. “When I approached you at the frat party and dropped my ‘Cade train’ line, do you know what I was trying to do?” I could see that she was recalibrating, trying to figure out how we’d gone from the subject of my dropping out of college to this. “I was trying to get in your pants.” That was a crass version of the truth. “I knew Tony was a player, and I knew you went back to him no matter what he did. I figured you were an easy lay.” Hurt outlined her features and I ignored the breaking sound of my own heart. I kept going, on a roll, and intent to give her a dose of the betrayal I was feeling now that she’d turned on me. “I intended to take you home that night, fuck you, and sneak out of your dorm room the second you fell asleep. I assumed you were one of these rich girls who cared only about men with money, cars, and status. And since I was on my way to becoming one of those men, I figured you were fair game.” My words had picked up speed, my voice steady, strong. I heard the anger there, each word like a nail being hammered into a board. A strange sense of power poured over me. I was back. No stammer lingered at the base of my throat, waiting to gum up whatever I said next. My speech problems had become my own personal lie detector. When I knew in my gut what I was saying was true, words came out smoothly. Just like my next ones did. “Then I got to know you,” I said, “or thought I got to know you, and figured out you were different. You were different, Tasha, until this very minute. Right now you’re proving you are that rich, slutty girl I thought you were.” Her hand cracked across my face, stunning me so much that all I did was stand there and blink. I ignored the sting on my cheek, but let her have the full view of my murderous expression. “That is not true, Cade Wilson.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and I steeled my heart against them. A sliver of doubt sneaked in, one that questioned what I’d accused Tasha of. One that suggested I’d made a terrible mistake. If that was the case, there would be regrets, and I knew full well what I was capable of when I was filled with bone-deep sadness. And so I walled up. I couldn’t afford to be wrong. She yanked the towel off her hair, wet locks falling over her shoulders. “You are afraid. Too scared to go back to school and try! Ultimately, you’re scared shitless you’ll get in the courtroom and choke!” I took a step closer to her, grinding my teeth into dust. She was wrong. I wasn’t afraid. Not of anything. Not anymore. I was in her face, my nose almost touching hers. She didn’t look the least bit afraid of me, and she shouldn’t be. I would never harm her. “I thought we connected,” she whimpered, the fury leaking out of her eyes. “So did I,” I answered. “Until you found out about my aspirations to become a mechanic.

Admit it. You don’t want to change your lifestyle. You have a plan, and a blue-collar guy isn’t in it.” I waited for her to tell me I was wrong. I prayed she would tell me I was wrong.

Tasha “Get out.” I held the towel around my body, covered but feeling exposed. I couldn’t believe how far south this evening had gone. When Cade arrived earlier, we’d kissed our way through the kitchen, down the hall, and then tumbled onto my bed. We made love with me on top, and after, we talked and laughed and kissed. By the time we moved to the shower, I had the rest of this evening planned. We’d go to bed naked, watch a movie, snuggle, and sleep in. What I didn’t expect was for Cade to tell me about his lack of college plans. To tell me our hard work, and his desperate request to “fix him,” had meant nothing. He wouldn’t be happy giving up on being a lawyer. No matter how he’d arrived at RU, he had a gift. He was taking the coward’s way out, and what kind of friend would I be if I let him? “Not rich enough for you?” he asked, needling me. “This has nothing to do with that.” Angrily, I swiped the tears from my cheeks. He couldn’t be this dense. “No?” He raised his eyebrows in challenge. He stripped off his towel, wadded it up, and threw it on my bed. I watched, mute, as he pulled on his boxer briefs and dragged on his jeans. Even fuming he was attractive, chest glistening with water, wet hair messy on his head. “No, you idiot,” I said. “What would you care if I did think you were too poor to handle my extravagant lifestyle?” I threw my arms wide, gesturing around my bedroom. “I’m as shallow as they come. If you can’t move me into a house that looks exactly like my dad’s mansion, then I have no use for you.” He was shirtless, T-shirt in his hands, and glaring at me. “It’s not like you made me any promises, Cade. How the hell am I supposed to know you aren’t going to start going to frat parties every weekend to pick up girls with your bag of crappy one-liners?” I didn’t know that he wouldn’t. Not really. “How do I know that you aren’t sleeping with me because I’m the girl who’s around? I’m the only one who stayed since the accident. No one else would have put up with you!” “Why did you have sex with me?” he challenged. “Did you feel so damn sorry for me you couldn’t help yourself?” I took a step toward him and pointed a finger. “Take that back.” “If you hit me again, Tasha, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” He really did look angry. The shuttered quality of his eyes reminded me of when I first started going over to his house to work with him. When he behaved like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Growling and snarling. “I’m not going to hit you,” I snapped. I probably should apologize, but I was too angry to

admit fault. “No need to lose sleep, kitten. I’m fixed. Your job is finished.” Cade turned his shirt right side out and yanked it over his head. “And so are we.” I clutched the towel to my chest, aware that beneath that layer of terry cloth, my heart was aching. Breaking. “Good idea about the frat party thing, though,” he said. “Now that we’re through, and I have my tongue back, I’ll go put it between another girl’s thighs.” He may as well have reached out and slapped me. I sucked in a breath, hating that he witnessed me gasping for air like a fish on land. He hadn’t lied about the silver-tongued-fox thing. He was good at flaying with his words. “Goodbye, Tasha.” He bent and picked up his wallet, which had tumbled to the floor in our frantic haste to get undressed earlier. Again I thought of how far we’d come from pure bliss just a few minutes ago. He shoved the wallet in his pocket, turned his back on me, and walked out of my bedroom. I would’ve followed, but I didn’t know what to say. Hurt as I was, I didn’t want him to go. I thought as I stood rooted to my carpeted floor how I’d let Tony walk all over me. The first time he showed me what an ass he was, I should have let him go. It would have saved a lot of heartache. So that’s what I told myself. Letting Cade go would save a lot of heartache. I told myself that as I heard him slam my front door. And I told myself that when I watched out the window as he climbed into Blue 2 and screeched out of the parking lot. And then I told myself that again when I lay in bed, in my damp towel, but I didn’t believe it. I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

Cade I drove to my house, my temper burning. My vision was a tunnel as I drove Blue 2 home. I didn’t know what I’d do when I got there. I sure as hell couldn’t sleep. Maybe I’d pack a bag and go…somewhere. I didn’t know where, but I had the sudden urge to get the hell out of Ridgeway. I parked in the driveway rather than the garage, figuring I’d leave soon enough anyway. A silver Honda caught my eye. It was parked at the curb, unassuming, plain, but it was there all right. And it belonged to Joyce Wilson. I climbed out, stared at her car for a few beats. It was around two in the morning and there was no reason for my mom to be here. Unless… Rather than retreat into my room over the garage, I walked to the garage entrance to the main house and turned the knob, popping open the door with my breath in my throat. “Dad?” I called, announcing myself, followed by “Mom?” It’d been a year and a half since I greeted them in the same sentence. It was weird. Hushed whispers came from the kitchen, so I didn’t turn on the light in the living room, giving them time in case they’d been arguing or she’d been crying. I’d seen plenty of that

before the divorce. I didn’t like to see my mother cry. I didn’t like that Dad made her cry. And if he did, and she was in there sobbing, I swore I would— “Oh my God.” I froze in place, slamming my eyes shut, and tried to forget what I had just seen: my mom frantically tucking her shirt into her jeans and Dad buttoning his pants. No. No. No, no, no. There wasn’t enough brain bleach in the world to blot it out. “Cade!” Dad’s voice. “I, uh…we thought you were with Tasha.” “Hi, honey,” came my mom’s voice, and I tried to ignore the aerated quality it held. I kept my eyes closed and covered them with a hand for good measure. “I’m…I just wanted to say hi,” I said, backing out of the kitchen and toward the blessed exit behind me. “Caden, wait,” my mom said. “We were…um, we really were talking.” “At first,” Dad mumbled. I gave up and dropped my hand. I could only make a run for it with my eyes open anyway. “No.” I shook my head as my mother arranged her hair. “I…Let’s talk later.” “Caden, please,” Mom said. “Just…When you’re ready I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. In the morning or…now?” Dad moved to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. He took a sip and handed it to Mom. She sipped and handed it back, and then they shared a smile. It was so much like the old them—the them I remembered from when Dev lived with us. The them that was a unit. A couple with an unbreakable bond. “Now’s good,” I said, giving in and moving toward the kitchen. I was drawn in by the childlike hope that my family would once again be complete. I sat at the table in my spot. My parents sank into their respective chairs like seats had been assigned. I took in their placid smiles and asked, “What the hell is going on?” Joyce was the first to crack. “I came over because your father called me to tell me about how you’re not going back to college.” I put my hands on the table and pushed myself up. “Sit down, Cade,” Dad said, his voice infused with authority. “She agrees with you. Hear her out.” My anger melted away and I lowered myself back into my seat. “You agree with me?” “It’s so good to hear your voice. Paul said it was back, but wow. It is really back, isn’t it?” Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked to stave them off. “Seems to be.” “This Tasha must be a miracle worker.” “We’re done,” I said, letting the double meaning hang. Tasha and I were done because there was no more of me to “fix,” but we were also done because there was no more Tasha and me. She might not have spelled it out, but it wasn’t hard to determine what she wanted. And it wasn’t me. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

“You won’t,” I told my mom, sparing her a tight smile. “Lose the attitude,” my father warned. I pressed my lips together. “You shouldn’t have to finish college for a degree you no longer desire,” Mom said. “I know you went into law because you and Brooke were high school sweethearts. You followed her around like a puppy.” “No, I didn’t.” I sulked. I did, but it was humiliating to think about the way I used to be. Though, when I thought about the way I’d treated Tasha, I considered I hadn’t turned out much better. “You followed Brooke to college,” my mom continued. “How were you supposed to know at age eighteen what you wanted for the rest of your life? How is anyone supposed to make a decision and stick with it when so many things change?” All true. I wasn’t anything like the wide-eyed kid who believed Brooke was my whole future. Hell, I wasn’t even like the guy I was when I crashed my Audi. So much had changed. Around me. Inside me. “You were brokenhearted,” my mom said next. “And you should have been. Brooke left you in a horrible position. You truly burned the ships when you professed your love to her. There was no turning back for you. When you commit, Caden, you commit.” That wasn’t…entirely true. She didn’t know about the string of one-night stands that followed Brooke’s pregnancy announcement, but there were some things moms were better off not knowing. “I was afraid that stubborn streak would last forever with your speech,” she continued. “But I can feel how strong you are right now. You have arrived at a decision you believe in.” Her hand rested on my forearm. “I’m proud of you.” My mind went to Tasha and I cringed. I didn’t know what I thought of the decision I’d made to walk away from her. Then I realized my mother was talking about my college plans— or lack thereof. “Miller, Brian, and Carey bought the building without me. I thought I cared. I thought I was jealous.” I reconsidered, listening to the second hand on the clock over the stove tick three times. “Maybe I am a little jealous. But I don’t want what they have. It makes me remember who I was and who I’m not anymore, and it…sucks.” “I should have heard you out, Cade,” my dad said. “I had a rough day and I called to spout off to your mother, and then she offered to come by and talk. And then…” “Spare me the details.” I held up a hand. My parents exchanged smiles. I stood from the table, but I wasn’t angry. “I need to think. I can’t do that here. I’m going to go for a drive.” “Cade,” Mom started. “I’ll be safe. I haven’t had anything to drink tonight.” Except for Tasha. I’d been drunk on her for months and knew I could look forward to the hangover of a lifetime. “Okay,” Mom said. “I’ll…I might be here in the morning.” “You will.” Dad’s hand closed over hers and my heart swelled. I loved them both. I wanted

them whole, together. Loving each other. I wanted it more than I had ever acknowledged. My father addressed me next. “What I should have said earlier, what I am telling you now, is that you should only fight for the things you want in your heart.” “Everything else will fall into place.” Mom looked at my father the way she used to. All admiration and smiles. “In time.” I palmed my neck, my throat full. I was feeling overly emotional after the events of the evening, which made me feel out of control. I didn’t like it. “Second thought, I’m, uh…I’m going to go to bed.” Fatigue slammed into me like a brick wall. I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted to sleep off the emotions accosting me. I wanted my bed, wanted to hold on to my pillow as well as the idea of my parents asleep in the same house. “See you in the morning.” “I’ll make pancakes,” Dad said. Just like the old days. Before I went upstairs, I leaned over the table and pressed a kiss to Joyce’s forehead. “Love you, Mom.” Then I walked out before the tears started falling. If she lost it, I’d blubber like a baby.

Chapter 18 Tasha “I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work. The strain has been heavy, and I know you received some of the brunt of the overflow,” my dad told me. We weren’t in his stodgy office. Instead, we sat at the kitchen table. He held a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and I blew on a hot cup of coffee. A plate of doughnuts sat untouched between us. I was still trying to figure out what had happened to prompt him showing up at my apartment and inviting me to come over for breakfast. Typically before work he was racing around like a lunatic. I hadn’t seen Cade since he walked out of my bedroom a week ago. I hadn’t done much of anything except go to class and go to work—thanks to Uber, I had been able to get from place to place. I wasn’t sure what Rena and Devlin knew, if anything, so I avoided her all week too. Well, I texted her. We always texted. I kept it simple. Jokes about my stupid pathophysiology teacher, photos of my coffee, or an excerpt of the latest paper I was writing. Amazing what you can hide in text messages. On a screen, anyone would assume I was bubbly, busy me, but in person I was gray. Like a black-and-white movie. All smooth lines and shadows with no real way to discern one color from another. “I never should have taken your car from you.” Dad slid the Z4’s key across the table to me and polished off his juice. I stared at it, stunned. I hadn’t told him about Cade, either. As proven when he said next, “I have no right to try and control who you date. You’re a grown woman.” He hesitated over the word “woman,” and I guessed it was hard to see his little girl as a grown-up for the first time. He stood and walked to the sink. “It’s a gift and there are no strings. I never should have let Tony believe I was taking his side. I know that’s what it looked like, but—” “He cheated on me,” I blurted. My father shut off the faucet, his eyebrows slamming down. “Tony,” I clarified, hugging my coffee cup. “With more than one person. With several people. A few of them were good friends of mine. Didn’t you wonder why I insisted on getting my own place?” “I thought you didn’t want to live in a dorm room any longer.” His brow crinkled like he was perplexed. “I didn’t want a dorm room any longer. But I also didn’t want to be that close to the friends who were no longer my friends. It was too much like starting over. It was scary.” “You didn’t tell me.” His voice hardened. “I didn’t want to incur your wrath.” I picked up a doughnut after all, taking a sugary, soft,

heavenly bite. Around a mouthful, I admitted, “You’re hard to please sometimes.” He came back to the kitchen table. He didn’t sit, but he did put his hands in his pockets as he studied the floor. “That’s what your mom said. Without the ‘sometimes,’ ” he said, his smile sad. I don’t know that I’d ever seen a sad smile on Morton Montgomery’s face. I finished my doughnut, wiping my fingertips on a napkin. “I don’t want the car,” I told him. He met my eyes. “It’s yours, Natasha.” “I want your support. I want you to trust me. I want you to stop holding things over my head and guilting me into doing them because you’ve given me money.” “This is about my telling you not to see Caden.” “This is about college. If you’re willing to pay for my schooling, I’d like to graduate and finish on your dime, Dad, I would. But if you’re not, then tell me so I can make arrangements to pay for the rest myself. I’ll pay you back every penny if you like.” “Absolutely not. I never should have held that over your head. It’s just that last quarter at work…” He took a deep breath and looked at me as if he was debating telling me. Then he did. “There was a scary moment where I thought I might lose the house if things went south on that last deal,” he said. “Dad.” “I know.” He held up a hand. “I shouldn’t share that with you. It’s fine now. A merger that almost went the wrong direction for the company.” I had no idea of the specifics of what he did or how he did it. But I knew one thing for sure. “If you lose this house, you can buy a smaller house. Why are you holding on to this palace, anyway?” I asked with a playful smile, but his answer sobered me. “Your mom designed this house.” He sat down, but not across from me. Right next to me. The air became dense, heavy from his unresolved feelings and mine. “She picked out every doorknob.” He swallowed thickly before continuing. “Every inch of baseboard. Those little turquoise and pearl and slate gray tiles in the shower in our room. My room,” he corrected a second later. “Yeah, well. Mom left.” She was unhappy, and she left. Left Dad and me to pick up the pieces and figure out how to live without her. “She did. I still hope sometimes she comes back.” He looked at his folded hands like he was shamed to admit that. “And then you left too.” “Daddy.” He stood so abruptly, I was looking at an empty chair a second later. “I know. Bad excuse. It’s the truth, though. Stress combined with loss of control can do a number on you.” I immediately thought of Cade. “Where is Caden lately?” he asked, reading my mind. “Did you two stop…seeing each other?” He sounded uncomfortable asking and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t comfortable talking to my father about either of my past relationships.

“We’re um…Yes, we stopped working together.” I stood, my heart aching. We’d stopped everything: working on his speech, sleeping together, kissing, texting… I’d lost him. An emotional lump clogged my throat. I offered the key back to my father. “Thank you for the car, Daddy, really, but I can’t accept it.” “You can.” “I can’t. Not if it makes me a stuck-up rich girl who thinks she’s too good for everyone around her.” I didn’t like how true that sounded. “Tasha.” I couldn’t believe he’d used the shortened form of my name. And you could have knocked me over with a feather when he said, “You’re none of those things. You went into your field because you care for people a great deal. You care for Caden because you cared that he spoke again. You went to that hospital on your own. No one had to ask or demand you show up. You were there for Paul, for Caden. You are here now even though I don’t deserve you to be.” I wasn’t going to lie, his approval—no, his pride—healed some deep wound inside me I hadn’t known was there. “You’re an intelligent, brave, hardworking woman,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. It was so nice not to hear the word “beautiful” for a change. “If I drive a Z4 around, people will believe I’m shallow,” I said, my tone teasing. “People will talk no matter what. They’ll say you don’t deserve what you have whether you do or you don’t. And people will always try and fit you into the mold they are comfortable putting you in. It’s your job to stand strong and be who you are in spite of what anyone else tells you.” There was a pregnant pause before he added, “Even me.” “But—” “Your car insurance is paid up for the year. She’s yours, Natasha. You earned it because you have busted your tail becoming exactly who you should become. And hearing what Tony put you through makes me see that you’ve endured more than your share of heartache. I’m sorry I didn’t support you when it came to him. He seemed like a nice boy.” I closed my fist around the key. “Thanks, Daddy.” We shared a smile, then his faded and he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a conference call. Have a good day.” And that was it. My father walked to his office and shut the door, and I stood in the kitchen, my Z4’s key in my hand. My dad was right. I was who I was and I couldn’t be anyone less. I was privileged, but I wouldn’t apologize for it. Having money didn’t make me a bad person. If Cade couldn’t see that after all we’d been through, then the blame for our breakup rested squarely on his shoulders. It still hurt. Every time I thought of his smile or his tattoos or stepped into my shower, I was reminded of a time I couldn’t forget and couldn’t get back. But hurt felt better in a BMW convertible, I thought smugly.

Outside, I put the top down, threw my bag into the front seat, and slid my sunglasses onto my nose. I had a test today and I was arriving in style. — “You seem…you seem okay.” Rena said this slowly, taking her time to lean over the bar and study me intently. It was Tuesday, Cade’s day off, and the restaurant was emptying out, having closed ten minutes ago. I finally caved and texted Rena to let her know Cade and I were through. She told me to (and I quote) “get your ass to Oak & Sage,” and I obeyed. She’d taken on the role of bartender–slash–mother hen, feeding me alcohol and watching over me. But as the last hour progressed, she’d apparently decided I needed to leave the nest. “I say shake it off.” “Shake it off.” “Yes,” she said decisively. “Your advice about my recent breakup is the lyrics to a Taylor Swift song?” “I thought you’d appreciate that. You love Taylor Swift.” I gave her a weak smile. Rena got me. Everyone needed someone who got them. It was my fault for wishing one of those someones was Cade. “I do,” I said. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Would you like me to have Devlin kick Cade’s ass after work tonight, or would tomorrow afternoon work better?” “Does it expire? I’d like to wait until the hurt goes away and maybe cash it in when he’s least expecting it.” “Ohhh.” Rena refilled my empty wineglass. “I like the way you think.” She stashed the wine bottle back in the refrigeration unit and leaned on her elbows. No one was at the bar, and the employees were scurrying around cleaning tables in an effort to haul ass out of there. Rena and I were the only two not in a hurry. She let out a sigh. “He hurt you.” “He did.” My chest ached like someone had scooped my heart out. Worse than when I learned Tony was cheating on me, and that was saying something. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I’m shaking it off.” She didn’t laugh. “No, it’s not okay. I’m trying to make you feel better when what you need to feel is hurt. I’ve been there,” she said. “I was so devastated, I couldn’t see straight.” “Hey,” a male voice came from behind her. I snapped my attention to Devlin, who was watching Rena with a mix of regret and admiration. His eyes cut to mine, then back to her. “Have your drawer?” Rena retrieved the cash drawer for Devlin while I noted a weighted, palpable silence between them. He had hurt her, and not that long ago. Yes, they’d reconciled, and I knew they loved each other. I also knew Rena hadn’t meant for Dev to overhear her just now.

When she set the drawer on the bar top, he pulled her face close with both hands and pressed a kiss to the center of her lips. He didn’t take his eyes off hers when he asked, “What happened?” Like his mouth had been coated with truth serum, she blurted, “Cade and Tasha had a fight and they aren’t speaking.” He nodded, his expression relaxing some. “I love you.” “I love you too.” I sat there with my wine, feeling the strange urge to start humming. Devlin turned to me and repeated the same question, but I doubted he’d let me off the hook with an easy answer. “What happened?” “I don’t know. The inevitable?” There wasn’t a plane of existence where it made sense for Cade and me to have actually worked out. It wasn’t that Cade and I were radically different, but we didn’t share the same beliefs. I would have fallen in love with him if he’d stayed the night. I knew that now, that I’d been hovering on the precipice of that admission for a while. That would have been a huge mistake. Cade was as immune to me as if he’d been vaccinated. I wondered if I could put that I hadn’t fallen for him in my plus column, but then my breath caught in my throat as a crack split my heart. Because I had fallen for him. I loved him right now, even after the awful things he’d said to me. “What if tell him he’s being a pussy?” Devlin asked, pokerfaced. “That worked when you did it to me.” I smirked. He wasn’t kidding. I had stomped into the Wilson residence when Devlin lived there and told him he was a pussy for not contacting Rena. My insult spurred him into action. “Somehow I don’t think that would inspire Cade in the same way,” I said glumly. Devlin surprised me by coming to my side and palming my shoulder. “He’s come a long way with you, Tash,” he said, delivering a gentle squeeze. “Don’t underestimate your power.” He winked and I understood instantly why Rena had fallen so hard for him. But even under his steady blue gaze and dark good looks, I still thought of Cade. Cade’s amber eyes and the wicked twist of his smile. The stammer that had shifted to the cadence of his speech now— less clumsy than before but not perfect. Yet, in its own way, perfect. The way he made love to me from head to toe. The way he made me feel beautiful. The way he made me believe I was beautiful. Then I remembered the last thing he’d said to me. “He told me I’m a stuck-up rich girl. He thinks I’m shallow,” I told Devlin, not ready to let go of the hurt. “Whatever power I had over him has vanished.” Devlin didn’t have anything to say to that, but Rena did. “Well, if he thinks that about my best friend, then I say you don’t need him.” I lifted my wine, gazing into the golden liquid. I had finals to pass. I had my Z4 back. I had an understanding with my father. I had a job I loved. I didn’t need Cade to be complete.

I would heal. It’d take time, but I’d heal.

Cade I spent most of the day under Ice Blue’s hood, making sure she was running smoothly. I wanted her purring like a kitten. At the thought of my nickname for Tasha, reality interrupted the daze I was in, and I purposely pushed it away in favor of thinking of my car—the only girl I needed. I changed the Camaro’s name to Ice Blue from Blue 2. I liked to think Ice Blue was the color of my heart. That it was an impenetrable, cold block, safe from women who sought to shatter it. Under my car, the day flew. Time ceased to exist. And for those dreamlike hours, I temporarily forgot I had a hole in my chest where Tasha should be. By midafternoon I climbed behind the wheel and drove until I ended up on Alley Road. Now I sat in an idling Ice Blue and stared at the fire hydrant and the telltale scrape of navy blue paint from my former Audi. My life changed irrevocably that night. I’d been angry when I learned Joyce wasn’t my mother—that my entire life I’d been lied to by the two people who were supposed to love me the most. I’d wanted my father to go back to being the man I remembered—the supporter of the family—instead of a guy in deep with gambling. A few mornings ago when I woke and Mom—Tasha was right, in my heart Joyce was my mom—was standing next to my dad making pancakes, I wanted her to stay. Too soon to say if it was going to work out between them, but she’d gone on a “date” with him last night, so I took that as progress. I had what I wanted—my dad was back. My mom was literally back. Almost everything you want. I ignored the dart of pain in my chest when I pictured Tasha. Healing was a bitch. Alley Road, I thought, focusing on my surroundings. The wreck had been the physical setback of a lifetime. At least, I hoped so. I’d like to believe terribly unfortunate circumstances limited themselves to one per person per lifetime. Like the moment I’d slid sideways into the hydrant that rattled my brain, destroyed my car, and sealed my fate. The clouds opened up and splattered rain onto the top of my head and the seats through the open car’s roof, and a realization settled in. The accident had given me things I’d never had before. Arguably, things I wouldn’t have had without it. Dad stopped gambling and his job became his new addiction. Tasha showed up to help and didn’t let me push her away. Until the end. I’d pushed hard, too hard. I broke her. My heart lurched and the fast-food lunch in my stomach kicked my gut. Tasha had been trying to help me. She’d been trying to get me to attempt those stupid ooo and puh exercises because she cared. Tasha cared about me. Even when I hadn’t deserved it. Then I kissed her. Man. What had happened in the whirlwind weeks since that happened? It was like there was a tear in reality and I ventured behind the curtain and embraced what was on the other side. I’d not only regained the ability to express myself, but I’d opened my

eyes to a different future than I’d ever imagined. I had been stuck in the past. Stuck with Brooke, stuck in law school. And my friends who purchased the building that would someday be our firm? A law firm with my name on it wasn’t my future. It was theirs. I was an interloper. A passerby. It’d been nearly two weeks since I walked out of Tasha’s apartment. Devlin had mentioned her once, and Rena had said nothing, but she sent me my fair share of dirty looks. I’d ignored them both. I wasn’t compromising the future I wanted for anyone. Not ever again. Earlier this week, I’d dropped off an application at a car dealership. I wanted a job in the garage, but they offered me a sales position. I accepted it. I could talk, and better yet, I was an asset because I understood what was wrong with any trade-in someone drove into the lot. I proved it when I identified what was wrong with a transmission just by hearing the grinding/humming sound it made. Since I’d said yes to Lassiter’s GMC, I turned in my notice as busboy to Devlin and compartmentalized my breakup with Tasha as best I could. It helped to lump Brooke and Tasha together in my head, but it was a coping mechanism. They might’ve both hailed from wealthy families, but that’s where the similarities ended. The paint scrapes on the fire hydrant seemed to morph into a wailing face. I wondered if Brooke would have stuck around through my injuries. But I knew. She wouldn’t have. Before she’d been knocked up by some other guy, she’d had her sights set on a future with a specific time line. I tried to wedge myself into her life even though part of me knew it wasn’t where I fit. A new thought intruded, one I didn’t like. A voice suggesting I was in the wrong when it came to Tasha. Had I overreacted? Had I let my temper over the past speak for me when I accused her of plotting against me? No. That was stupid. I’d had every right to stand up for myself. To be myself. Right? “Y-yes,” I said aloud. My lie detector seemed to be back in business. That was the first stumble I’d had in weeks. Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing as a telltale stammer. “I don’t c-care about T-Tasha,” I ground out. I gripped the steering wheel, the water causing my hands to slide. I tipped my head back and let the rain splatter on my face as my eyelids fluttered. Then I tried something else. I tried the truth. “I love her,” I said, blinking as a raindrop hit my eye. My chest tightened in that way it does when you realize you really, really screwed up. “I love Tasha Montgomery.” Damn. I fucking knew it. I had been so determined to hold on to my being right and Tasha being wrong. I was good at holding grudges. Skilled at staying angry. And for what? I had only succeeded in making

myself completely miserable. Not bothering to put the top up, I put Ice Blue in gear and navigated around the same corner where I’d wiped out one frigid, bleak, winter night. The same night Tasha sat with me until the ambulance arrived, and then followed it to the hospital. If I was lucky—probable, given my track record—Tasha had a forgiving heart and would let me come back to her. But I knew her. She’d been burned before by Tony and there at the end I hadn’t treated her well either. Getting her back was going to take some groveling on my part. And maybe a little public humiliation. “I can do that,” I said, blowing through a green light, needle-tipped raindrops hitting me in the face as I pointed Ice Blue toward my destination. Not giving a shit about my reputation, or if I stuttered out every word I tried to say to her, I drove straight to Ridgeway University, formulating a plan on the way.

Chapter 19 Tasha I stepped out into the waning sunshine, my only hope that a bombed pathophysiology final wouldn’t keep me from graduating. A fool’s hope, rang Gandalf’s sage voice in my head. But that, as they say, was that. School was done and I couldn’t wait to stop going to class and get the hell on with my life. Since my father’s heart-to-heart and my accepting the car, he’d made a call to Tony’s family. Mr. Fry wasn’t exactly receptive to the phone call. I’d overheard the tail end, my father’s warning of “Keep that scum away from my daughter.” He cared. And that felt good. Work had been going well, and despite feeling as if I might crumble at any moment, my life was moving forward. I’d indulged in a few clichéd ice cream and movie nights with Rena, who claimed Ben & Jerry were the best friends to have when going through a breakup. She didn’t bring up Cade, but I almost wanted her to. Today I thought maybe she knew something and wasn’t letting me in on it. And I assumed the news was bad. Maybe she and Devlin had attempted to intervene and Cade had maintained that I was a rich bitch who didn’t deserve a second chance. If that’s what he thought of me…well, I didn’t see the point in being so in love with him I couldn’t see straight. But I was. My heart needed a lobotomy. “Tasha Montgomery.” What sounded like a speaker overhead called out my name, and my heart skipped a beat, fearing for two seconds I was in trouble. “Has anyone seen the beautiful blonde who owns me wandering around?” I cast a horrified gaze left, then right, before spotting a megaphone and the guy behind it. A guy with a trail of tattoos down his arm. Cade stood on a park bench under a huge oak tree in the center of campus. The brick paths and walkways had been built around the tree to preserve it years ago. The moment Cade started speaking, students stopped in their tracks. “Fox!” a guy shouted. Cade held up a palm and high-fived him. Silver-tongued fox. Still standing on the bench, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, Cade’s stance was casual with one hand in his pocket. Even from far away, I could tell his eyes never left mine. “I figured you would respond better to a public announcement than a text,” he said into the megaphone, broadcasting to the growing crowd loud and clear. I gazed around at several people who dotted the walkways on all sides of the tree. Their eyes were on Cade, then on me.

“You’re wrong,” I called out. “Text would’ve been better.” “No. I don’t think it is,” he announced into the megaphone. “Put that down.” “Not until I’m done.” A few chuckles were punctuated by one whistle. “I haven’t been able to find my voice for months, kitten,” he said, with the most perfect enunciation. “You found it for me. You uncovered it. You unraveled me. You ripped my chest open and climbed inside.” I didn’t trust my voice. So I pressed my fingers to my lips and listened. “I followed Brooke Clayton here because I loved her. She broke my heart in two and I was really pissed off for a really long time.” “Hell, yeah!” some guy yelled in support. “What a bitch!” someone else called out. “Love sucks, man,” Cade said. “Especially when you majorly fuck up with the girl you’re gone for.” Oh, God. He meant me. My heart took a dive. “You guys know the story,” he said to the crowd, but he was looking at me. “I took a header into a fire hydrant and ended my rather illegal after-school activities.” When he waggled his thick brows, a whistle sounded behind me somewhere. Cade’s eyes smiled. He hopped off the bench and started in my direction, holding the megaphone to his lips and depressing the button. “I lost everything I cared about. My future, my car, my family.” He walked closer, bringing himself within a few feet of me. “But I gained something, too,” he said. “I gained a friend who was determined to pull me out of the pit I had happily buried myself in.” He took another step closer and I stopped glancing around. Our gazes were locked, his brown eyes lit by the sun and by a healthy dose of confidence. “I didn’t deserve her loyalty.” His voice rose, addressing the crowd again. “Then she kissed me.” Wolf whistles sliced the air and Cade smiled. “The clouds parted!” he announced theatrically. “I fell hard for that girl.” My nose tingled with impending tears. Cade erased the space between us. “I still love her and I’m hoping like hell she’ll forgive me for the shitty things I said. I’m a giant coward.” I nodded my agreement. “I also am not going to be a lawyer.” The students around us were split on that statement. Some clapped, others booed. “I’ll be starting at Littman’s GMC next Thursday, and”—he held a finger into the air, broadcasting to the crowd—“I can get you a really great deal on a used car with cut-rate, low, low financing.” In spite of my skittering pulse and the blood rushing through my veins, I laughed at his attempt to break the tension. There was a lot of it. He might be putting on a show, but he was also nervous. I could see it in the thin sheen of sweat decorating his temple. In the way his

eyes darted to his shoes before he lowered the megaphone and looked me in the eyes. “Will you please forgive me, Tasha? For accusing you of being something you’re not? For pretending for one second I could live without your voice in my ear or your lips on mine?” He dropped to his knees and my gasp was echoed by a choir of others. “I love you and I’m sorry.” That sincere pronouncement was for me. Not the crowd. I looked down at the guy I still loved, feeling unsure, confused, and wanting to believe him —to be happy. To grasp what he was offering with both hands. “Why are you doing this?” I said, my voice low so only he could hear. “You are more important than my pride, my reputation, or the chance that I could stammer in front of one hundred people who know me.” “I’ll forgive you, Cade!” a girl shouted from the distance. “You’re the only one who matters.” He kept his eyes on mine. “I’m not shallow because I have nice things.” “I know.” “I kept the Z4.” “You should. It’s yours.” “Are you really a used-car salesman?” “Yes, but I also signed up for business classes. In case BMW needs a new CEO someday.” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m so damn sorry, Tasha. I never should have said so many mean words to you. I was mad at myself and scared shitless you’d leave me. And then you did, and I—God, I can’t breathe. I swear as I kneel here, this is the first full breath I’ve taken.” He swallowed again and asked, “Can you forgive me?” “Yes,” I answered. He stood. I backed away a step when his face came close to mine—“But…” He palmed the back of my head. “But what?” “What will my dad say?” “He’ll say, ‘If you hurt my baby girl, Caden Wilson, I’ll castrate you.’ ” I blinked. “That…actually sounds like him.” “It’s a direct quote.” My eyes went wide. “You talked to him.” “I told him I was an asshole, but I’d never be as big of an asshole as Tony Fry.” I laughed, because how true was that? “You close this gap and kiss me, and I promise no matter how angry I am in the future, I will never, ever walk away from you on account of my stupid pride. I’ll listen to everything you say, even if you’re yelling at me. You can even tie me to the bed to ensure I don’t go anywhere.” That made me smile.

“Yeah, kitten, I like the sound of that too.” His eyes twinkled with mischief and love. “I don’t want to lose you. Not over something I should’ve been over a long time ago.” I took a tentative step closer. “You’ll never walk away again?” “Not as long as you let me stick around,” he said with a shake of his head. I looped my arms around his neck, then pressed my lips to his. He returned the kiss, wrapping me in his arms and tucking me close. When his fingers slipped into my hair, our connection deepened, our tongues sparred, and cheers and shouts and clapping rose to a crescendo from the crowd. When we parted, I was smiling, happy instead of devastated for a change. “All aboard the Cade train?” I asked. “There’s room for one.” He pushed my hair away from my face. “You, Tasha Montgomery. I loved you the moment I opened my eyes and saw you hovering over my hospital bed. I was just too stupid to realize it until it was too late.” “It’s not too late,” I whispered, my eyes going blurry from unshed tears. “Never again, Tasha.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m not going anywhere. Should we go celebrate?” “Yes.” Then he backed away from me, lifted the megaphone, and announced, “Drinks on me! See everyone at Oak & Sage!” I laughed as the cheering crowd scattered like cockroaches. “Devlin and Rena will love that.” “Well, tonight’s my last night there, so I figure I can help with the dishes,” he said. We went to Oak & Sage with most of Ridgeway U’s campus. After his shift, Cade took me out and we drove around town in Ice Blue, the top down, our shouted conversation vanishing into the warm summer night air. Then we parked, and we made out a lot. But not at Ridgeway State Park this time. No, this time Cade found a spot on the side of Alley Road. I never thought the run-down factory portion of town was romantic, but looking at the hydrant where he’d wrecked, and hearing him point to it and say, “that’s the night I became yours. I just didn’t know it yet,” was the most romantic moment I’ve ever experienced. We were going to be okay, I thought now as I accepted his tongue in my mouth. I loved him for who he was, even the imperfect parts. And he loved me in spite of fearing he might not be enough. He was, though. For me, he was more than enough. No matter how bumpy the road became, we’d hold on to each other first. We’d come too far to give up now. And anyway, we were both pretty stubborn. Neither of us would go down without a fight. Only this time around, we’d fight for each other.

For Amy Wade. I’m so blessed to have you in my life.

Acknowledgments Thank you to my dear friend and speech guru, Amy Wade, for your advice and guidance on an accident that could have stolen Cade’s speech. Thanks to Jeannie Moon, for your input on physical therapy assistants. (All errors are mine.) Thank you, Sue Grimshaw, for the opportunity to write this book, and to everyone at Loveswept involved in the production of it. It takes a village. Thanks also to Nicole Resciniti, trusted advice givers Lauren Layne and Shannon Richard, and readers everywhere who continue to read and support me. I couldn’t do this—any of it—without you.

BY JESSICA LEMMON Lost Boys Fighting for Devlin Shut Up and Kiss Me

Standalone Books Forgotten Promises

PHOTO: NICHOLAS LONG

A former job-hopper, JESSICA LEMMON resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want. Jessica is a social media junkie who loves to hear from readers. You can learn more at: jessicalemmon.com Facebook.com/​AuthorJessicaLemmon @lemmony

Read on for an excerpt from

Max by Sawyer Bennett

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 1

Max I stick the nozzle in my gas tank, depress the handle and flip the catch down to hold it in place. Letting the petrol flow on its own, I head across the nearly empty parking lot to the gas station that is lit up like a bright beacon out here on Possum Track Road. I’m starved and I know my fridge is empty at home, so I’m going to break down and buy some junk food for my dinner. I just won’t tell Vale about it as I don’t feel like listening to her bitch at me. Vale Campbell…pretty as hell and nice to look at but I dread having to hang out with her. That’s because she’s one of the assistant athletic trainers for the Cold Fury and, most importantly, working with me on my strength and conditioning. She would most certainly say Snickers, Cheez-Its, and Mountain Dew are not on my approved list and then she’d have me doing burpees, mountain climbers, and box jumps until I puked. So I won’t tell her about this little cheat and I’ll gladly take whatever she hands out to me during training camp. I’m committed to starting this season as strong as I have ever been, and I’m going to get the coveted starting goalie position, which became available when Ryker Evans announced his retirement this summer. The Cold Fury has been a championship team and I smell another winning season in the making. Not about to let two major injuries in as many years get me down. No, I’m coming back with a vengeance and a need to prove myself to my team and fans. Watch out hockey world…Max Fournier is back. Pulling the door to the convenience store open, I immediately see two guys at the cooler checking out the stock of beer. Both wearing wifebeaters stained with grease and faded ball caps. I, myself, pull my own hat down farther to hide my face to avoid getting recognized tonight. It’s late, I want to get my junk food and get gone. We’ve an early morning practice tomorrow and I just want to get home. I turn right down the first aisle, which merchandises the chips and other snacks, slightly aware the other two customers are heading to the counter to check out. I keep my back to them just to be safe and peruse the options. Funyuns. Potato chips. Doritos. Corn nuts. Reaching for a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, I hear one of the guys drawl in a typical North Carolina redneck accent, “Hey sweet thang. How ’bout a pack of Marlboro Reds and how ’bout handing me that there box of condoms. The extra large size.” The redneck’s companion snickers, and then snorts. I turn slightly to see them both shoot conspiratorial grins at each other, and one guy nudges the other to egg him on. While the

clerk turns to get the condoms, the redneck leans across the counter and stares blatantly at her ass. The other guy says loud enough that I hear, “Mmmmm…that is a fine ass.” Turning my body full so I face the counter, I see the woman’s back stiffen and she turns her head to the left to look at a closed doorway beside the cigarette rack. I’m wondering if perhaps a manager or another employee is in there and she’s hoping for some help. But she doesn’t wait and turns to face the two assholes, squaring her shoulders. And goddamn…she’s breathtaking. Looking past the polyester red and gold vest she wears with a name tag—clearly a uniform—her face is flawless. Creamy skin that glows, high cheekbones, a straight nose that tilts slightly at the end, and a sexy as hell mouth that I bet would be full and lush were her lips not flattened in a grimace. Her hair is not blond, but not brown. I’d describe it as caramel with honey streaks, and it’s pulled back from her face in a ponytail with long bangs falling from left to right across her forehead. While she faces the two men resolutely, I can see wariness in her eyes as she sets the cigarettes and condoms on the counter in front of them. “Will that be all?” Her voice has a southern accent but it’s subtle. She looks back and forth between the two men, refusing to lower her gaze. Redneck number one nods to the twelve-pack of beer he had previously placed there and says, “That was the last of the Coors. You got any in your storage room?” “Nope, that’s it,” she says firmly, and I can tell it’s a lie. “Are ya sure?” he asks, leaning his elbows on the counter and leering at her. “Maybe you could check…I could help you if you want, and we could make use of them condoms there.” I’d roll my eyes over the absurdity of his attempt to woo a girl who is, obviously, way out of his league, but I’m too tense over the prospect that this could be more than just some harmless goofing by two drunk rednecks. “What do you say, sweet thang?” he says in what he tries to pass as a suave voice but comes off as trailer trash. “I say there’s no more beer back there,” she grits out, giving a look over her shoulder to the closed door, and then back to the men. And that was a worried look. A very worried look, so I decide that this isn’t going any further. Grabbing the closest bag of chips, I stalk up the aisle toward the counter as I pull my hat off with my empty hand. I tuck it in my back pocket, and when I’m just a few feet from the men, the woman’s eyes flick to me, relief evident in her gaze. I smile at her reassuringly and drop my eyes down to her name tag. Julianne. Pretty name for a really pretty girl. The sound of my footsteps finally penetrate and both men straighten to their full heights, which is still a few inches below mine, and turn my way. My eyes move to the first man, then slowly to the other, leveling them both with an ice-cold glare. With the power of my gaze, I dare both of them to say something else to the beauty behind the counter. Because I suspect the only sports these guys watch are bass fishing tournaments and NASCAR, I’m not surprised neither one recognizes me as a goalie with the Carolina Cold

Fury. Clearly the lovely Julianne do esn’t either, but that’s also fine by me. The sound of fingers tapping on the cash register catches everyone’s attention, and the two men turn back to her. “That will be nineteen dollars and eighty-six cents.” One of the guys pulls a wallet out of the back pocket of his saggy jeans and nabs a twenty, handing it to her wordlessly. Now that they know there’s an audience, neither one seems to be intent on continuing the crass game they were playing. At least I think it was a game, but I’m just glad I was here in case their intent was more nefarious. Julianne hands the guy his change and they gather their purchases and leave without a word. As soon as the door closes, her shoulders drop and she lets out a sigh of relief. Giving me a weak smile, she looks at the bag in my hand and says, “Is that all?” “Uh, no actually,” I say as I give her a sheepish grin. “Got distracted by those assholes. I need a few more things.” “Yeah,” she agrees in a tired voice, brushing her long bangs back before turning away from me to an open cardboard box she has sitting on a stool to her left. She reaches in, pulls out a carton of cigarettes which she efficiently opens and starts stocking the rack of cigarettes behind the counter. I’m effectively dismissed and there’s no doubt in my mind she doesn’t know who I am. I head back down the chips aisle, take a bag of corn nuts and continue straight back to the sodas. I grab a Mountain Dew, never once considering the diet option because that would totally destroy the point of having a junk food night, and then head straight to the candy aisle. Two Snickers in my hand and I’m set. When I get to the counter, she must hear my approach as she turns around with the same tired smile. Walking to the register, her eyes drop to the items that I set on the counter, robotically punching in the price of each one. I watch her delicate fingers work the keys, taking in her slumped shoulders as she rings in the last item and raises those eyes back to me. They’re golden…well, a light brown actually but so light as to appear like a burnished gold. A piercing shriek comes from behind the closed door, so sharp and high-pitched that it actually makes my teeth hurt. I also practically jump out of my skin, the noise was so unexpected. The woman—Julianne, according to that name tag—does nothing more than close her eyes, lower her head, and let out a pained sigh. It’s such an agonized motion that for a brief moment I want to reach out and squeeze her shoulder in sympathy, but I have no clue what I’m empathizing with because I don’t know what that unholy sound was. I open my mouth to ask her if she’s okay when the closed door beside the cigarette rack flies open and a tiny blur comes flying out. No more than three feet high, followed by another blur of the same size. Then another piercing shriek from within that room, this time louder because the door is now open, and for a terrible moment I think someone must have been murdered. I even take a step to the side, intent on rounding the counter. Julianne moves lightning fast, reaching her hands out and snagging each tiny blur by their collars. When they’re brought to a full halt, I see it’s two little boys, both with light brown hair and equally light brown eyes. One holds a baby doll in his hands and the other holds

what looks to be a truck made of LEGOs. Looking at me with apology-filled eyes, she says, “I’m so sorry. This will only take a second.” With firm but gentle hands she turns the little boys toward the room and pushes them inside, disappearing behind them. Immediately, I hear a horrible crash, another shriek, and the woman I know to be named Julianne curses loudly, “Son of a bitch.” One more screech from what I’m thinking might be a psychotic pterodactyl and my feet are moving without thought. I round the edge of the counter, step behind it and head toward the door. When I step over the threshold, I take in a small room set up to be a combo office/break room. There’s a small desk along one wall covered with papers, another wall with a counter, sink, and minifridge under it, and a card table with rusty legs and four folding metal chairs to its side. It also suddenly becomes clear what manner of creature was making the noise that rivaled nails on a chalkboard. A little girl, smaller than the boys, is tied to one of the chairs with what looks like masking tape wrapped several times around her and the chair, coming across the middle of her stomach. Her legs are free, and the crash was apparently a stack of toys she had managed to knock off the top of the table. “Rocco…Levy…you promised you’d behave,” Julianne says in a quavering voice as she kneels beside the little girl and starts pulling at the tape. The little boys stand there, heads hanging low as they watch their mom attempt to unwrap their sister. I can’t help myself. The tone of the woman’s voice, the utter fatigue and frustration, and the mere fact that these little hellions taped their sister to a chair, has me moving. I drop to my knees beside the woman, my hands going to the tape to help her pull it off. Her head snaps my way and she says, “Don’t.” My eyes slide from the tape to her, and I’m almost bowled over by the sheen of thick tears, glistening but refusing to drop. “Please…do you mind just waiting out there. If any customers come in…just tell them I’ll be out in a moment,” she pleads with me, a faint note of independence and need to handle this on her own shining through the defeat. “Sure,” I say immediately as I stand up, not meaning to further upset this poor lady with the beautiful tear-soaked eyes. She clearly has enough on her plate without me adding to it. She turns back to tearing at the masking tape, being extremely gentle, I notice, with the pieces on the little girl’s arms. I glance to the two little boys, and although I see their heads are bowed down in what looks like apology, they both have slight smirks on their face. Little hellions for sure. I back out of the break room and consider just leaving my snacks on the counter, but I dismiss it. I want to make sure everything is okay, because unless I’m mistaken, that beautiful lady is on the edge of a serious meltdown. She doesn’t keep me waiting long, only a few minutes before she’s backing out of the door and pulling it shut behind her. She gives a final plea to the kids inside: “Will you please just behave for the rest of the night, and if you do, we’ll go shopping for a new toy for each of you

this weekend, okay?” Nice. Bribery usually works with kids. I don’t hear any type of response from the inside, and with a mighty sigh, she pulls the door shut and turns to me. She jumps slightly, maybe so lost in her thoughts that she forgot I was there, but then her eyes dart down to the items on the counter. “I am so sorry you had to witness that,” she says as she rushes to the register, then rings up the rest of my purchases, which she hadn’t gotten to before the hellions busted loose. “Not a problem,” I say with a chuckle. “You handled it well.” She blows out a gust of frustrated air upward from her mouth and her bangs lift slightly before falling down. “They can be trying at times.” Finally, she looks me in the eye and says, “That will be seven dollars and fifty-nine cents.” Wordlessly, I pull my wallet out, grab a ten and hand it to her. She just as wordlessly takes it, makes my change, and then quietly puts my purchases in a plastic bag. It gives me an unfettered moment to study her face more carefully, which looks not only pale from what might be exhaustion, but has a blue tinge underneath her eyes clearly denoting lack of sleep. I’m not sure why, but this tugs on my heartstrings a bit and I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay, but the glass door to the convenience store flies open and two teenagers walk in, one of them laughing loudly at something the other said. The crinkle of plastic gets my attention and I turn back to find the woman behind the counter holding my bag of purchases across to me. “Have a good night,” she says with a tired smile, and when I take the bag from her, she immediately dismisses me and her eyes go over my shoulder to watch the teenagers as they peruse the sodas in the glass coolers at the back of the store. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “You too.” She never even gives me a second glance, and I’m not being egotistical when I say that I usually get a lot more attention from the female persuasion than what I’m receiving right now. Mostly because I’m in the media a lot with the Cold Fury, but also because I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’m hot. Whatever. The point being, this woman doesn’t give me a second glance, and I find that I… Well, fuck…I like it a lot. I think I might be a bit of an oddity. While a lot of the single guys on the team revel in bachelorhood and the never-ending supply of puck bunnies who gladly give it up so they have a chance to be with a hockey star, that’s not my way. Never has been. I get nothing out of a shallow woman throwing herself at me, with no real care as to who I am as a person. They see a hot goalie who makes millions, and well, that’s all they see. But this woman…she doesn’t see anything but an ordinary guy who is easily dismissed, and yeah…I totally dig that. I turn from the counter and walk out the door, making a mental note to myself to stop back in the near future and see if I can talk to her some more. Unpeel a few layers. Maybe ask her on a date. I chuckle.

Max Fournier—professional hockey player and one of the team’s most eligible bachelors— wanting to flirt with a convenience store cashier who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him. Totally like it.

Love stories you’ll never forget By authors you’ll always remember eOriginal Romance from Random House randomhousebooks.com

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