Love Is Crazy (Love Is #1) - Abby Brooks

LOVE IS CRAZY

ABBY BROOKS

LITTLE BIRD PUBLISHING, LLC

CONTENTS Copyright Dedication Connect With Abby Brooks Also by Abby Brooks 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 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Epilogue Blown Away Copyright Dedication Connect with Abby Brooks

Also by Abby Brooks 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 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Also by Abby Brooks Also by Abby Brooks

Copyright © 2016 by Abby Brooks All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For Bill, my happily ever after.

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ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN THE GUY YOU KNEW BETTER THAN TO GO OUT WITH STEALS YOUR PURSE AND disappears when you’re in the bathroom? First, you sling curse words around the restaurant—loudly of course. Maybe bang your fist on a table, causing the silverware to clank against the plates and making all the people around you gasp, jump, and then stare at you like you’re crazy. Then, you call your sisters for help and complain about it with them over margaritas. At least that’s what I did. And it hasn’t been working out the way I expected. Not at all. What did I expect? Comfort. Commiseration. A gentle hand on my shoulder and a kind word for their poor little sister and her bad luck with men. What am I getting? Not that. “Come on, Dakota. You just left your purse at the table?” Chelsea, the oldest of us London girls lets loose one of her patented, Judgmental Older Sister sighs and gives me a look that sits somewhere between condescending and sympathetic. I take a long drink of my margarita—the bartender here at this restaurant is good, but I’m better—and suck in my lips as I swallow. “I didn’t call you out here to point out how this is all my fault.” “Well of course it’s not all your fault.” Maya, my slightly-sweeter-thanChelsea-but-still-judgemental-because-she’s-older sister smiles at me as if that will make it all better. “So it’s still kind of my fault?” And here it comes. All the reasons that Dakota London fucked up once again given to me one line at a time from the two people I trust most in the world.

Chelsea tucks her super straight platinum hair behind her ear and crosses her arms on the table. “Well, you did go out with him even though you met him at the bar called The Bad Apple.” “Hey! That’s my place of employment, thank you very much! What’s wrong with the bar?” “It’s called The Bad Apple,” Maya says, as if that clears it all up. “What kind of guys do you think it’s going to attract?” “I think it’s just the kind of guys I attract.” I drop my chin towards my chest, fully prepared to pout my way through the evening. Chelsea politely sips at her margarita and puts on the sweetest of faces. “Yeah…” She draws out the word. “About that. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your choices on the man front.” “See! There you go blaming me again! This is so not my fault.” I gesture at my empty purse and the people at the surrounding tables who are still eyeing me warily. So I got a little mad when I saw The Asshole had stolen my wallet and left me with a huge ass check to pay and no way to pay for it. I don’t think I’m the only one who would find that just a tad upsetting. “Aren’t you even a little bit tired of having this conversation?” Maya asks with that same mix of condescension and sympathy that Chelsea has been using. I should have just called Maya and asked for some help paying the bill and getting home. What was I thinking, calling both of them out here and asking them to have some conciliatory drinks with me? “I’m sorry,” I say, so ready for this night to be over. Isn’t there like a sister code or something where they’re supposed to stick up for me no matter what? “I wasn’t aware that we’ve had the some jerk stole my wallet and stuck me with the bill conversation before.” “No…” Chelsea picks at the salt on the rim of her margarita glass and hits me with a look. The look. The one that says I’m not going to like what she has to say. “But we have had the some jerk took advantage of you and now you need our help conversation a lot. Like a lot, a lot.” “Oh. That one.” I might not like hearing it, but I can’t deny it’s true. I run my hands up into my shoulder length blonde hair. And to think I actually took the time to style it in honor of this night with The Asshole. Wanted to look pretty for him. Just so he could rip me off. “Yeah. That one.” “Well. Okay. When you put it that way. I’m very tired of this particular conversation.” I fiddle with the salt shaker in its little metal stand on the table while the waitress come to check on us—eyeing me like I might jump up and bite her or something. “It’s even worse that we’re having it here. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.” “Well, I’m sure you handled the whole thing so gracefully,” says Maya with a smile that says she knows just exactly how I handled it. Loudly. With much cussing. “Oh sure.” I put on a Very Serious and Sweet face and nod. “I handled it with my

typical grace and charm.” Chelsea laughs into her margarita and pulls the glass away just enough to speak. “Is that why everyone keeps staring at us?” She takes a long drink and sits the glass down. She’s still laughing, but it’s not at me anymore. It’s because of me. I know she’s always secretly admired my ability to say whatever I’m thinking without worrying what people will think of me. Just like I’ve always admired her ability to hold her tongue when it’s appropriate. “Maybe.” I draw out the word. “I’m very threatening.” Maya laughs. “Oh yes. All five foot three inches of you. The scariest little blonde thing in at least three counties.” “It’s the tattoo,” I say, flashing my wrist to show off the three tiny birds taking flight there. “Terrifying.” “Utterly.” Chelsea nods knowingly. “You know,” I say, drawing up my shoulders and releasing them with a sigh. “You two are my favoritest people. Ever.” I mean it. Chelsea and Maya are my best friends. A bond made all the stronger because we shared the same room for most of our lives. “Sure,” says Maya. “You say that now that you don’t have a way to pay for the drinks.” “Or the meal you had with that jerk.” Chelsea shakes her head and that Judgy Big Sister look creeps back into her eyes. “Let me guess. You guys had appetizers and dessert.” “And it was his idea,” Maya adds while I nod, pouting. “I am such an idiot.” The Asshole had suggested we go all out. Order everything we could possibly want, without worrying about anything. And here I’d thought he was just being romantic… Chelsea and Maya exchange a look, one that makes me wonder how long they’ve been waiting for a chance to say whatever they’re about to say. “About that…” Chelsea takes a drink and eyes me with the same wary look the rest of the people in this stupid restaurant have been giving me for the last hour or so. I sit back and prepare myself for whatever they have to say. “We think you should be more selective about the guys you date.” Maya says it in one big rush of words and then sits back with worry clenching her eyebrows together. “In fact…” Chelsea sits back, too. The same look of concern tightening her eyes. “We think you should be more selective about everything in your life.” She pauses. Watches me like I’m a wounded tiger who might spring up and eat her at any moment. I nod. I’d like to say that I have no idea why they’re acting so nervous right now, but I do have a tendency to react emotionally. They’re probably waiting for me to cry. Or yell. Or storm off and leave them with the bill. I won’t lie. I consider all three. But since I pretty much agree with them, I just take a careful drink of my margarita and wait for them to continue.

With another quick glance to Maya, Chelsea leans forward and unleashes The Speech. “You’re so much more than a bartender who works at a cheap bar. You’re so smart. So talented.” “And too pretty for the jerks you keep picking up.” Maya reaches out and puts her hand on mine. “What happened to the girl who wanted to travel? The girl who always said even her names were places and if that wasn’t a sign that she was supposed to see the world, then what was? The girl who used to write?” I clear my throat and fiddle with the salt shaker again. “Travel costs money I don’t have and writing sure won’t pay the bills.” I shrug, trying not to show them how much the realization that real life sucks bothers me. “Besides. I like making drinks at The Bad Apple. Never a dull night, that’s for sure.” Which was true. I do like the energy of talking to different people all night long. Of the music playing super loud. Of the lights careening off the bottles of liquor lining the shelves on the wall behind the bar. So I’m not a physical therapist like Chelsea or a pediatrician like Maya. So I’m not on the traditional London Fast Track to Success. That doesn’t bother me. At least not a lot. But I am getting really tired of picking up jerks. “So what do I do?” I ask and hold up a hand as both of my sisters suck in a big breath as if they have an entire novel’s worth of advice for me. “About the not dating jerks thing. The rest of my life is fine.” Which it is. Kind of. I just need a little more time to figure out what I want to do when I grow up is all. My sisters both close their mouth against whatever it was they were going to say and each of them lets out a long breath. Chelsea bites her bottom lip while Maya twirls her finger in her long brown hair and looks at the table. “My life is fine.” I repeat myself because clearly they were more interested in talking about my career choice and living situation than they were about the guys I go out with. “But I have a seriously bad track record with the men. What do I do?” The girls are quiet. Still. Some more. I’m busy trying to ignore the rush of indignation and irritation roaring through my veins. I’m only twenty-five. So what if they were both college graduates by the time they were my age? I’m not them. That’s been clear our whole lives. “For one,” Chelsea finally says. “No more picking up guys at the bar.” “At the bar or at a bar. Because where else am I supposed to pick them up?” “At bars in general. Just think about the kind of people who hang out in bars all the time.” “Uhh … the fun kind?” I know Chelsea’s only trying to help, but I love spending my nights off at a bar, drinking in the energy of many people gathered in one place, the music and the dancing, the laughter. Hell, I strike up conversations with strangers just for a chance to see life through their point of view. “Okay,” says Maya, clearly seeing the landmine Chelsea just stepped onto. “Just the bar. No more bad apples from The Bad Apple.” She chuckles at herself and

takes a sip of her margarita, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘Okay.” I bob my head in agreement. “It’s probably a bad idea to be dating people from work anyway. Next?” “He needs a home.” “And a good car.” “No tattoos!” “A decent job!” “A life plan!” My sisters ricochet their requirements right off each other, one after the other, information coming at me machine gun style. “Clearly you’ve had time to think about this.” “We may have talked about it once or twice.” “Okay, so you want him to have a home, a car, a steady job, a life plan, more brain cells than tattoos. I think I can get behind that.” Even if I don’t have one single clue as to where I was going to find a guy like that. A guy who met those requirements would count as an actual, honest to goodness adult. I’m not exactly the best at adulting and the guys that end up in my circles aren’t that good at adulting either. “Anything else?” I asked. “Just remember,” says Chelsea. Maya and Chelsea took one last look at each other and in then in one rush of words so perfect and in tune they might as well have been choreographed they hit me with their most important requirement. “You can’t meet him at The Bad Apple.”

CHAPTER TWO

WOULDN’T YOU KNOW, MAYA AND CHELSEA THROW DOWN THE NO MORE DOUCHEBAGS GAUNTLET JUST IN time for the most beautiful male creature to ever walk this earth to swagger right on into The Bad Apple and have a seat at the bar. I’m not lying when I say his entrance is totally worthy of any Hollywood movie ever. He even goes so far as to pause and flash me a swoon-worthy smile before hopping up onto a stool at the bar, laying his phone and laptop down beside him. But this is where the Hollywood hero picture falls apart a little because who brings a laptop into a bar? A businessman? A tech mogul? A guy who just totally just took a selfie, flashing that same, slightly familiar and still swoon-worthy smile at his phone? Who knows about the first two, but that last one? Yeah. That just happened. What kind of guy takes selfies at a bar? Maybe he’s less businessman or tech mogul and more college student or gym rat. But he looks too world-wise to be in college. And not muscle-bound enough to be a gym rat. Not that he’s old and out of shape. He defies classification. Which makes him interesting. And boy do I love interesting. “What can I get you?” I lean on the bar and wait to steal this guy’s attention away from his technology. He glances at me, deems me barely worthy of his time, and goes back to messing with his phone. “Whiskey. Neat.” Great. Even his drink is bad ass. And his voice is as dark as his hair, as rich as his drink. His eyes are so brown they look almost black in the low light of The Bad Apple. He glances at me again,

probably because I haven’t done anything but stare at him since he sat down. Flushing, I turn away and reach for the Jack Daniels—a safe bet in a bar like this one. If he had a brand, he would have told me. As I pour his drink, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. “Did you just take a picture of me?” I ask as I slide his drink across the bar towards him He nods without looking up from his phone. “Yep. Congratulations. You are about to become mildly famous on the internet.” He waves his phone at me as if that explains everything and I see he’s logged into Instagram and is clearly in the process of making a post. A bunch of things click into place. My jaw drops. “You’re Dominic Kane!” There may or may not be a goofy grin stretching my face into something that somewhat resembles a fangirl smile. “The travel photographer, right?” “None other,” he says and drops his chin in a slight bow. He flares his fingers and smiles. “I didn’t know I was that recognizable.” “I may or may not be one of your biggest fans.” I smile, hoping that I sound more cool and coy than desperate and gushy. “I kind of live vicariously through your pictures.” “Oh yeah?” “Sure. I’ve always wanted to travel, but alas...” I glance around the quickly filling bar. “I don’t exactly have the kind of job that allows for it.” A large herd of actual college kids claim about half the bar in a swarm of testosterone and monosyllabic conversation that fights for dominance over the music throbbing over the speakers. I nod towards Dominic and head over to take their orders, leaning in to hear them over the general cacophony that is The Bad Apple. Of course, they can’t resist flirting and double of course, The Bad Apple doesn’t appear to be their first stop tonight. I fend off a few drunken advances and fill their orders, constantly aware of the guy at the other end of the bar. The super-hot guy with the coolest job ever. The mildly famous internet celebrity. The Instagram personality with over a hundred thousand followers. The YouTuber with a ton of subscribers. The guy with the dark hair and dark eyes and a twisting series of tattoos poking out from under his shirt sleeve. The guy who has been on just about every continent on this planet and has the pictures to prove it. A guy who has to have his fair share of interesting stories to share with me, to help me imagine—if only for a second— that I’m anywhere but dumb old Ohio surrounded by anything but rows of corn. I finish with the college jerks and head back towards Dominic, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a fish to a lure, a paperclip to a magnet. Like lightning to water. Like plants to sunlight. Like birds to the air and fish to the sea… Basically, I couldn't have avoided going to stand next to him if I wanted to. “Ready for another?” I ask, indicating his empty glass.

Dominic nods and fiddles with his phone while I pour him another couple fingers of Jack. “That was pro-level stuff over there,” he says, indicating the jock herd with a nod of his head. “I don’t think they even realize how shot down they actually are.” I shrug. “Can’t tell them what I’m really thinking or my tips suffer.” I lean on the bar again, rising up on my tiptoes to close the distance between us. “Gotta let them think they have a chance.” “Is that what you’re doing with me?” He smiles in a way that tells me he totally doesn’t believe that. “Making me feel famous so I leave you a good tip?” “Totally.” I nod and smile and disappear to check on the frat boys. The rest of the night passes in a flurry of customers and drinks and music so loud I know I’m going to have a headache by the end of the night. Dominic stays. And in between the surge of drink orders, I talk to him. As much as I try to hide it, I’m totally fangirling. Dominic Kane really is my absolute most favorite person to follow on Instagram. Not only are his pictures truly stunning, but he’s approachable as far as internet personalities go. He responds to the people who comment on his posts, strikes up conversations with them, shares his stories as if they were old friends. I’ve gotten a kick out of his sense of humor for a while now. I’ve never actually commented on his stuff because that’s just not me, but I have liked the hell out of most of them. The evening stretches on and the bar—which always starts out quiet before it gets too loud—is on its way back to quiet again when I finally park myself near Dominic. “So here’s the thing,” I say, leaning on the bar again. “You took my picture, so I think I should get a picture of you in return.” “Oh yeah? Is that how this works?” His laptop is closed and his phone is face down beside him and I finally have his full attention. And wow. I’m not sure I was prepared for the power behind those eyes. This is a man who sees stuff for a living. What exactly does he see when he looks at me? I fight the urge to fiddle with my hair. The last thing I want him to see is me being nervous. “Totally. A picture for a picture.” I nod as if I’m talking about well-known social customs, as if what I’m talking about has been handed down from generation to generation throughout the ages. I pull my phone out of my back pocket like things have already been decided. Which they have, actually. “You’re a much more interesting subject than I am,” he says as I point my phone at him. I actually snort and immediately regret it. “No.” I drop my phone and hit him with my most incredulous look. “I’m just a bartender in a little bar in Ohio. You’re a world traveler who inspires hundreds of thousands of people on the internet. You win the interesting game.” I lift my phone up again and Dominic shrugs. “Let me prove it. Come here.” Intrigued, I do what he says, coming around the bar to stand next to him. He hops off the stool and takes my phone from me. Leans down to wrap his arm around my shoulder and holds it out at arm's length. “Say cheese.”

I smile broadly and say cheese. Dominic doesn’t take the picture. I turn to him, confused and get distracted studying his profile, suddenly so very aware of just how much bigger he is than me. How close we are. How he smells like whiskey. How much better looking he is up close. And that’s when I hear the click of the camera on my phone. “I so wasn’t ready!” I cry and try to snatch the phone from him so I can delete what’s sure to be one of the worst pictures of me ever. Dominic chuckles as he holds the phone out of my reach, an easy thing since I’m tiny and he’s apparently not. “Hold on, now,” he says. “Who’s the professional here?” “Professional or not, I have every right to see that picture and delete it if it’s awful.” “It’s not awful.” Dominic lowers the phone and hands it to me. “Just so you know, that picture is my intellectual property and I have every right to sue you if you delete it without my permission.” I look at him, something stern and real in his voice making me wonder if he’s actually serious. “I won’t delete it.” I slide open the phone and find the picture and just stare. There he is, smiling that smile that I’ve come to know through so many pictures in so many different places. He’s handsome, of course, always is, his dark features giving him that mysterious look while the warmth of his smile makes him feel like an old friend. But the woman tucked into his arm? That’s so not me. Dakota London is a tiny blonde, a fun-sized woman. People call me a disco ball. I’m shiny and perky and my nose is slightly too large for my face. I smile too wide for pictures and snort a little when I laugh. The woman in the picture is none of those things. Well, sure, she looks tiny, dwarfed by Dominic. And yes, she’s blonde, the perfect yin to his dark yang, but there’s a depth to her eyes that doesn’t belong on my face. My lips are parted and pulled up in this perfect little Mona Lisa smile as I study Dominic’s profile. My eyes are lit with the power of deep thoughts and the possibility of intriguing personality. “See?” he asks, so close that I can feel the warmth of his skin against my cheek even though we’re not touching. The space between us so small that it almost doesn’t exist. “Who’s the interesting subject in this picture?” I shake my head and drop the phone, careful to turn off the screen so I don’t accidentally delete the picture. “Yeah, but that’s no fair. You waited until I was distracted. In fact, you distracted me on purpose. And like you said, you’re the professional here. You know how to make a blade of grass seem interesting.” “A blade of grass is interesting if you take the time to really look at it.” I slide my phone back into my pocket and shake my head. “Nope. You just destroyed your own argument with that nonsense. Don’t get me wrong. It was all very poetic and lovely, but I’m a realist. You travel the world. I work at a bar in the

same town I grew up in. One of these things is not like the other.” I wander back around to my space behind the bar. Dominic doesn’t argue, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. And maybe, just maybe, I keep thinking about what he said and wondering if he really finds me as interesting as I find him. And damn if I’m not busy mentally checking off my sisters’ requirements. Sure, Dominic Kane has a few tattoos, and sure, I met him at The Bad Apple, and okay, he doesn’t actually live around here so anything long-term is off the table. But! He has a great job. Travels the world and inspires people all over the internet. Surely Chelsea and Maya could forgive the tattoos and the place we met because he is so damn interesting and not at all at risk of being a serious relationship. Surely they would be cool with me spending more time with Dominic Kane, my most favorite Instagramer of all time. Right?

CHAPTER THREE

IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I SHUT DOWN A BAR, BUT JUDGING BY THE FACT THAT EVEN THE DRUNKEN herd of frat boys has started to stagger out, the fact that the energy in The Bad Apple has changed from throbbing and frantic to sedate and almost sad, I’d say that’s exactly what I’m doing here tonight. I’ll be so tired in the morning that it will almost hurt, but I think it will be worth it. There’s no way I’m leaving this place without at least knowing my bartender’s name. She has to be one of the most unique people I’ve ever met. Bubbly like champagne. Hair the color of the sand on the beaches of Bora Bora with eyes the same vibrant color of the water. Tiny with a personality that fills the room. She draws the eyes of everyone around her and doesn’t even notice. She’s color and she’s energy and … she’s waiting for me to respond to something she just said. “Sorry,” I say and tap my head. “Deep thoughts.” She raises her eyebrows and makes a face that’s part belief and part sarcastic incredulity. “I bet.” She tilts her head to the side and lets her eyes hold contact with mine. It makes me smile. A lot of people flinch from my gaze. Start fidgeting or look at their hands or over my shoulder or anything but me, really. Later on, they’ll throw around words like intense and awkward. Not this little bartender. She just looks at me while I look at her. “So…” She draws out the word and shrugs a little. “I asked what you’re doing in such an un-exotic place like Townsbury, Ohio. Home of corn and farmers and cow poop.” “It’s beautiful here,” I answer truthfully, disappointed that we’re going to have such an uninteresting conversation as I hate my hometown and can’t see the

beauty under my own nose. I had higher expectations for this woman. “Sure it is,” she replies. “If you like … you know … corn.” There’s a metric crap ton of disdain in her voice. I’m guessing she really doesn’t like corn. “I actually am quite fond of corn. But!” I hold up a finger and raise my eyebrows. “That’s not why it’s beautiful here. It’s green and clean and the air doesn’t sting the back of my throat or leave a bad taste in my mouth. The hills roll gently while the roads twist through them. And the sky goes on forever. I flew here from Africa —” “See! That’s what I mean!” She swallows hard and her eyes light up. “Elephants and lions and a red sun setting over a red desert. I can’t even imagine.” She shakes her head, eyes lost in the romantic idea she has of the continent. “Sure. Yes. It’s stunning and terrifying. But it’s dirty. And the poverty is …” How do I tell her about it so she understands? I don’t think I can. I don’t think I want to. “It’s clean here. The buildings. The homes. The people. It’s fresh.” I shrug and take a deep breath. “There’s beauty here.” And a lot of it is standing right in front of me, I think to myself. “I think you take this place for granted,” I say out loud. She flares her fingers and makes a face that is mostly concession. “Probably. But don’t we all do that? Lose track of all the amazing things in our lives? Take them for granted?” She leans forward, elbows on the bar, chin resting in her hands. The light plays in her hair and eyes and I would love to take her picture right now. “Anyway. Back to my original question. What brings you here?” She leans even closer to me and lowers her voice. “Notice I took out the part of the question where I disparage the corn.” I can’t help but laugh. “How about this? An answer for an answer. I’ll tell you why I’m here, but you’ve gotta tell me your name.” She straightens and makes a silly face. “My name? Dominic Kane wants to know my name?” “See? Now it’s only fair that I get to know your name. You know mine.” “Right. But life isn’t fair, my friend. And how do I know that you’ll answer my question after I answer yours? Maybe I’ll tell you my name and you’ll just get up and walk away, leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever see you again.” “Oh, you don’t have to worry, sweetheart. You’ll be seeing me again.” I pause while she tries to cover the excitement that makes those blue eyes sparkle. Damn if I didn’t miss another picture opportunity. I need to learn to have the thing turned on and ready to go around her. “I don’t think this town is big enough to avoid it,” I say, grinning as I give her the answer I know she wasn’t expecting. “And here I thought you’d be coming back in here to see me.” I pretend to consider it like I don’t already know the answer. “I guess I could work something like that out.” My phone buzzes at me for the hundredth time since I turned it face down so I could give my attention to this woman. That’s the price of internet fame. A million people out there, all vying for my attention. “But, that means I really do need to know your name.”

She shakes her head and crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m taking a chance on you, Kane.” She’s waggling her finger at me and tapping her foot, putting on what she must think of as her tough face. “I tell you my name and I never see you again and I’ll post that picture all over the internet and let the world know just what kind of man you are.” I know she’s trying to be funny, but I can’t let an opportunity like this go by. I let my face drain of all emotion. I slowly lean forward, letting my eyes burn into hers. I rake my eyes across her face and body, letting lust and fire burn in them. “And just how do you think you know what kind of man I am, little girl?” She flinches. Just the teeniest little reaction. Just a hairline fracture in her confidence. Then she laughs and leans forward, closing the distance between us. “Dakota London,” she says. “Pleased to meet you.” Her smile is wide and real and the lust I tried to fake just a few seconds ago becomes visceral and real. I want to taste her. To feel her. To take her to my room and strip her naked so I can see all of her. Have her raw and real in front of me and know what it’s like to have her. “See,” I say and shift in my seat, trying to make some room in the crotch of my jeans. “There you go, being way more interesting than me again.” “Oh sure. Because Dakota London is much more interesting than Dominic Kane.” “Oh, come on. Can you think of two places that are any more different? The tightly packed city of London versus the rolling wide open spaces of one of the Dakotas?” I try to figure out how to tell her that her name has more than one kind of energy, kind of like her, but I’ve never been all that great with words. Instead, I smile and hope she’s quick enough to figure out what I meant. “That’s me,” she says. “More energy than you know what to do with. Now. My turn. Why are you here?” I tell her about the job I have taking pictures of a bed and breakfast in the area in exchange for a free room for a week or two. I do that a lot. Trade pictures in exchange for a place to stay. Cuts down on costs and considering just how much I actually travel, cutting down on costs is a very good thing indeed. “Oh wow,” says Dakota. “You just left Africa and came straight here? Talk about jet lag. Don’t you get homesick?” “Can’t get homesick if you don’t have a home.” Now I’ve got her confused. This part of my life is the hardest part for most people to wrap their heads around. “I don’t have a house. Makes traveling so much easier if I don’t have to worry about things falling apart while I’m gone. Or paying for a place I sometimes don’t see for months at a time.” “Wow. No home.” Dakota looks thoughtful. “I can’t decide if that sounds exciting or terrifying.” “It’s both. I try to keep myself booked for at least a month or two ahead but that’s life experience talking right there. It only took me a few times of realizing that I wasn’t going to have a place to stay the next day before I figured it out.” Dakota sucks in her lips and studies me. I study her right back. “What’s it like?”

she asks. “Not having a home base? What about your family?” A massive man waddles up to the bar. Surly. Angry. “Dakota.” He barks her name and she jumps. “Been watching you stand around chatting this guy up for most the night. How about you stop picking up strangers at my bar and start actually working for your pay.” He hits her with a look that makes me want to hit him. “Sorry,” she says after the asshole disappears. “My boss is … bossy.” Dakota laughs at herself and gets busy organizing stuff behind the bar. “I should be going anyway. The best light is early light and it’s gonna be a bitch to drag my ass outta bed tomorrow.” I gather my things and finally check my phone. Just as I suspected. It’s so late it’s early and I have about half a million comments on my latest uploads to reply to. “Maybe you can show me the sights sometime before I leave.” “Sure. I can show you all the corn you ever wanted to see.” I shake my head and slide my phone into my pocket. “Sounds like maybe I need to show you the sights.” I manage to leave before she whips up a witty comeback. Turn around for one last look at her as I push through the door and find her smiling after me, her hands on her hips and her eyes lit up with that too wide smile of hers.

CHAPTER FOUR

I CAN’T BELIEVE I MET DOMINIC FRICKIN’ KANE LAST NIGHT. AND HE’S AS GOOD LOOKING AS HIS pictures. And he’s as down to earth as he seems online. There’s no way I’m not going to see him again before he leaves. I have too many questions. What’s it really like to live without a home? What is his favorite place to visit? His favorite picture he’s taken? How does he afford to live out of hotels? Has he ever had to sleep in the street? How close has he been to a lion? He said he’s staying at a bed and breakfast which is all the information I need. Townsbury is small. So small it really doesn’t warrant a B&B, but somehow it earned one anyway. Good news for me is that there’s only one possible place Dominic could be staying. Bad news for me is that I haven’t figure out just how crazy stalkery it makes me if I just show up uninvited and start asking him questions. Well. I take that back. I’m fairly sure that means I fit squarely into the definition of a crazy stalker, but I’m just not sure how much I care. How many times will I have an opportunity like this? I may never actually get to travel. I’d be a fool to pass up the chance to talk to someone who makes a living doing it. But, because I’m not so sure if Maya and Chelsea will count hanging out with Dominic as dating, I can’t help but feel like I need to clear it with them first. Okay. I take that back again. I definitely know they’ll count it as dating. I also know that they won’t approve because he pretty much doesn’t meet a single one of their

criteria. That’s why I’m heading over to Maya’s this evening. I’ll just tell her about why he’s so awesome, why he doesn’t really fit into their anti-criteria and we’ll be good to go. Surely, as soon as I explain everything to her, she’ll understand why I have to hang out with Dominic. We can just put this whole Find the Right Guy for Dakota plan on hold while he’s in town. There’s no way they can’t see how much sense it makes. Well, I take that back, too. There’s no way Chelsea will understand. She’ll see me getting all excited about a guy who just spells trouble in her eyes and that’s all there is to it. Chelsea sees the world in black and white. There are right answers and wrong answers and very little wriggle room between them. That works for her. But me? I’m all about the shades of gray and all the other colors in between. Which is why I’m bringing this up to Maya first. She’s been caught between our arguments pretty much since I came into existence. If anyone can smooth the way for me to explain this to Chelsea, it’s Maya. It’s one of those great days at the end of summer where it’s still warm enough to wear shorts but not at all humid. Where the light is bright and perfect and the wind blows just enough to rustle in your hair without messing it up. I drive over to Maya’s house, singing along to the radio as if I actually had a decent voice. Which I don’t. But hey! It’s my car and I love to sing. No one can judge what they don’t hear. I pull up in front of Maya’s perfectly sensible house and admire her perfectly weeded flowerbeds as I wander up the walk towards the door. She’s waiting for me in one of her lounge chairs on the front porch, eyebrows lifted, gaze locked onto the bottle of wine in my hand. “You want something,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Sure I do. To hang out with my sister.” Maya shakes her head. “Nope. You only bring wine when you want to get me tipsy and butter me up.” She narrows her eyes. “You met someone.” “I did not.” Technically that’s not a full on lie. I already knew who he was. Kind of. Through Instagram. That kind of counts as knowing him already. Maya purses her lips and stares me down. “No. You met someone. And you’re afraid we won’t like him.” “Now that is definitely not true. I know you’ll like him.” Maya stands up and takes the bottle from my hand with a sigh. “Well come on in. Let’s get some glasses and you can tell me all the reasons you don’t want Chelsea to know about him.” She hits me with a knowing look and heads into the house. I follow her dutifully and plop down on her couch, kicking off my shoes and tucking my feet underneath me. “Where’d you meet him?” she asks from the kitchen. “Uhhh…” Great. She’s going to pull a Chelsea and tick off all the boxes on the list they made for me. “At the bar.” She just laughs at me, shaking her head as she puts two empty glasses down on the coffee table and pulls the cork out of the bottle. “But he’s not just any guy.” I pull out my phone and open up Instagram, click on

his profile and hand it over to Maya. Her brow crinkles and she brings the phone closer to her face. “Is that you?” “Huh? No. That’s Dominic Kane. The world renowned travel photographer who just happened to come into The Bad Apple last night.” I go right ahead and pour the wine, going a little heavier than I had originally planned. “No. I’m not dumb. I know how to Instagram. But here. This picture. It’s you.” Maya sits down beside me and I peek at the pic on the screen. That’s me all right. All cropped in close, the rows of bottles and lights behind me a blur. It’s somehow stillness and chaos all in one. “Damn,” says Maya. “If there was ever a picture that described you. This would be the one.” I look a little closer and then sit back, shaking my head. “Nah. That girl is too mysterious to be me. Look at that smile. The secret in her eyes. I’m just plain old Dakota. That girl has magic in her soul.” “Exactly,” says Maya as she hands me back the phone. I take one last look at the picture. It had to be the one Dominic took while I was getting his drink. “I’ll be honest. I wish I looked like that. He’s just that good of a photographer that he can me me look that good. Look, he took this one, too.” I close out Instagram and pull out the picture of the two of us together. “Wow.” Maya takes the phone from me. “He’s so intense! All that dark hair and five o’clock shadow? He’s so everything you ever look for in a guy.” She pulls the phone in close again. “And look at you. He caught everything that makes you who you are in this one, too. I want those pictures.” I send them to her and make her promise not to post them anywhere, remembering Dominic’s stern warning about his intellectual property last night. I’m mostly sure he was joking around with me, but it’s probably better to err on the side of caution there. “So, can I date him?” I ask after we’re about halfway through our first glass. “Did he ask you out?” “Well, no. Not officially. He did ask me to show him around town.” “That’s another check in the no category.” “How is that a no?” “Dakota. He didn’t even ask you out.” Maya says it like that explains everything. “So? I’m sure he wanted to. And I bet he will. Or hell. I’ll ask him out.” I widen my eyes. “Shocking, I know!” “Fine. Whatever.” “Hey wait. You said another. Another check in the no column. What’s the first check?” “You met him at The Bad Apple. That’s like, one of the biggest reasons to say no that I can think of. “Yeah, but…” “Don’t yeah but me.” Maya slides her hand up into her dark hair and props her elbow on the arm of the couch. “Does he have a job?”

“Yep.” I smile proudly, glad to be able to answer in the affirmative. “A fucking cool one.” “Right. Travel photographer.” Maya takes a long drink of her wine. “Gotta admit, of all the possible jobs out there, that one really is a good match for you.” “Exactly!” I say. I knew Maya would understand. “So maybe that’s one in the yes column.” “Does he have a house?” “Well see, that’s the thing. He doesn’t have a house because he travels all the time. Which makes total sense when you think about it and I don’t think it should count against me. I mean him.” Maya raises an eyebrow. “Car?” I shake my head. “Does he meet any of the requirements we talked about the other night? Any of them at all?” “He has a job.” “Right,” she says, drawing out the word. “A job that means he travels all over the world and won’t even be here for you to actually date.” I take a long breath and let it out slowly. “I mean, when you put it like that, it’s pretty clear that Dominic Kane is bad news and I should just leave him alone.” “But you’re not going to do that, are you?” “There’s not one chance in hell.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SOMETIMES, WHEN I’M OUT IN THE WORLD, WATCHING THE SUN CHASE THE DARK OUT OF THE SKY, I FEEL so small and so insignificant that it’s almost soothing. Today is one of those days. The bed and breakfast that hired me is the only building for miles. Set high on a hill. Surrounded by fields and trees. This morning, the dew is still wet in the grass as the sun sets the sky on fire. I put my camera down on the ground, let it capture the glimmer of water on the grass, the gleam of light in the sky outlining the stately house up on the hill. I just need a few more shots of the outside of the place before I can head inside and start capturing the charm of the interior. With the light cooperating like it is, I should be able to sell the shit out of this place. They’ll get some great pictures for their promotional work, but as a sort of bonus, I’ll post some pics to my Instagram account and I bet they will have the rooms booked full within days. Maybe I can figure out a topic for a YouTube video while I’m here. Get some shots of the area while I do. Whatever I do, I’m going to need some coffee. I stayed out way too late last night, talking with that cute bartender at that raggedy old bar. One look at The Bad Apple told me it was not my kind of place but for whatever reason I stopped in anyway. Turns out I’m really glad I did. Dakota London might turn out to be one of the most intriguing people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Which is saying a lot because I’ve met a lot of people in a lot of places. Imagine my surprise when I find someone who captures my attention the most in a town just a few miles away from where I grew up. I head inside and wander into the dining area, snapping pictures as I do. I fully expect to be alone, given that not many people on vacation choose to be up at the

butt crack of dawn like me, but there’s an elderly couple sharing a table in the corner when I walk in. I watch them as I drink my coffee. They hold hands across the table. Look deeply in each other’s eyes. Smile. Laugh at each other’s whispered comments. It’s so different than so many elderly couples I’ve seen, who stare past each other in silence. Or worse, gripe at each other over every little thing they say or do. This couple has happiness etched into their wrinkled faces. Laugh lines instead of frown lines. With the way the light spills through the window near their table, landing on their clasped hands and splashing up onto their smiling faces, they would make such a fantastic subject for a picture that I can’t bring myself to pass up the chance to photograph them. I grab my gear and head their way. “Good morning,” I say as they look up. “Morning.” The old man dips his head in greeting. “Thought I’d be the only one up this early.” I pull out a chair at a table near theirs and take a seat. We talk for a while. I ask them why they’re here and they tell me they’re celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. “And I love her now just as much as I did when I met her.” The old man reaches for his wife’s hand. Pats it twice before twining his fingers with hers. “I believe it,” I say. “One look at the two of you together was enough to make me want to come get to know you. You seem so happy. It’s irresistible.” “We are.” The old woman’s voice is thin and gravelly, well worn by age, but still so thick with love and emotion, it would be just as easy to believe that they were twenty-something and newlyweds. “Mind sharing your secret?” I ask, leaning in. Elbows on knees. Smile on face. Friendly. Curious. The old man looks at his wife. “I let her be her and she lets me be me,” he says after a bit of thought. “And the beauty of it is that we love each other anyway.” I laugh because she meant it to be funny but I can’t help but think how profound that simple statement is. As I ask them to take their picture and then set up the shot, I wonder if that’s the secret to finding a relationship that lasts. Discovering that one person out there that has all the ingredients I admire. Someone who sees life the way I see it and enjoys all the things I enjoy. They say opposites attract, but maybe that’s where it should end. Maybe the trick to looking into your lover’s eyes and still smiling at them fifty years later is finding someone just like you. Of course, as stubborn as I am, as much as I like to be in control, maybe that’s as much a recipe for disaster as finding my opposite. Finding someone just like me sounds like we would be in for a lot of fighting for power. Maybe there is no recipe for love. Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested anyway. Love is a waste of time. Might as well just sign up for a broken heart. No thank you. Shit. I sound like a woman this morning. Thinking all my deep thoughts. I blame the beauty of the sunrise and the sweetness of the couple at breakfast. Hell. There I go again.

I thank the couple and head upstairs to upload the photographs from today. The picture of Dakota London catches my eye. I smile and wonder how many people found her just as striking as I did last night. Opening up Instagram is sure to eat away my day, replying to all the comments that have been rolling in since yesterday, but I do it anyway, promising myself that I won’t reply, just take a peek. The first thing I see is that someone with the username of DoLo has tagged me in a post. Only a few clicks and I see that it’s the picture I took of Dakota and me last night. It has a metric fuck ton of likes and comments already. It doesn’t take long to figure out that DoLo is Dakota. And the picture I posted of her last night? The one of her at the bar? It has even more likes and comments then the one she posted of us together. I message her without thinking. See. Look how interesting you are. The whole internet wants to know who you are. I mess with my phone, replying to comments even though I said I wouldn’t while I wait for her reply. They’re interested in you. Anyone with you is interesting by default. Your argument is invalid. I tap out a few more comments while I figure out just how to respond to her. Finally, I decide to just get right to the point. Can I take you out tonight? You show me around and I show you what you’re missing in this beautiful place? I don’t have to wait at all for her response to come in. Gotta work tonight. But if you stop in and keep me company, I won’t complain. Bet your boss will. Probably. Ask me if I care. Do you care? A little. Gotta pay rent, you know? Oh wait. You don’t. You don’t pay rent. I barely know the woman, but sitting here in my room, one of hundreds I’ve been in this year alone, I can hear the twist of wit in her sweet like candy voice. See the little toss of her head, the one that lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. The

one that inevitably makes my eyes drop to her full breasts. And then to the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. Freedom is sublime, I respond. I’m sure that isn’t the answer she wanted. I bet she needed to hear that I’d be at her work this evening. But, a little anticipation never hurt anyone. I want her so keyed up by the time I get there, that seeing my face makes her light up. After all, waiting for something makes it all the more exciting. Anticipation sweetens pleasure.

CHAPTER SIX

EVERY TIME THE DOOR OPENS, I LOSE TRACK OF WHAT I’M THINKING OR DOING. I CAN’T HOLD ONE SINGLE conversation tonight because that damn door interrupts me every time. See? There. It did it again. I’m going to have to ask this yahoo with the fish eyes and weird hair to repeat his drink order and I really don’t want to because he seems to think everything I say or do is actually me flirting with him. It’s not, for the record. I’ve even stopped smiling at him but that hasn’t deterred him yet. He’s going to end up grabbing me before the night’s out. He’s just got that look about him. Just one of the charming occupational hazards of working behind the bar. Damn. And there’s the door again. Why are we so popular tonight? Not that I’m complaining. The tips will be nice. And the energy is good, if I could get my focus back on what I’m doing and off Dominic’s potential arrival. I lick my lips and can’t stop the smile that lights up my face when I think about him. Of course, wouldn’t you know it, I’m still staring right into the eyes of the fish-faced weirdo without a clue. A sick smile contorts his face. “Did I make you forget again, cupcake?” His voice is snake oil. He might as well have a little forked tongue slipping between his lips. “Because I can do that to a woman. Make her forget everything.” I’m sure he’s trying to go for slick. Probably thinks he’s on his A-game. Wooing

me with his weird sexual innuendos and oddly misshapen hair. “Sorry man,” I say, eyes darting towards the door again. “But I’m not into being rufied or anything to do with chloroform.” It’s a little harsh and is sure to piss him off, but I need him to get the message sooner rather than later. Because, umm, I’m really not in the mood to be knocked out and tied up and spilled into his trunk or something equally devious and terrifying. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair while the guy two seats down from him snorts laughter into his glass. “We’ll see about that,” says The Fish, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a grin, his eyes lingering just a little too long on my chest. I’m pretty sure he’s still flirting and hasn’t moved on to actual threats, but I decide to give this guy a wide berth for the rest of the evening. I take his order and make his drink more than a little light on the actual alcohol. The door opens and closes exactly five and a half times while I’m pouring. Yep. That’s right. Half a time. Some jerk is in the process of leaving and is just standing there with the door in his hand, just about making sure that my attention is on two things at once as I try to peer around him and see who just walked in. There are butterflies in my stomach. Or, at least when I got to work they were butterflies, kind of like the first time I kissed Bobby McGee in high school—sitting on a bridge above the Ohio River, our legs dangling and swinging in the open space below. Right now I think it feels more like a kangaroo in a trampoline in there. What once was excitement has moved right on to nerves and I kind of think that if Dominic Kane doesn’t walk through that door in the next five minutes, I might lose my mind. Which makes me mad. Because I don’t like having my emotions run amuck. Not at all. Maybe he thought he was being suave, finishing his messages with something as vague as freedom is sublime. No follow up. No ‘I’ll see you tonight.’ Nothing to give me any clue whatsoever as to whether or not he plans on showing up. Well, at this point, if he walks through that door, he will get a very different Dakota than he thinks he’s getting, that’s for sure. I don’t like to wait. And I don’t like to be played with. And I don’t like … There’s the door again. And I can’t see who’s coming through because the jerk who can’t figure out if he wants to leave or not is still standing there, having a conversation with someone in the bar, totally blocking my view. You know what? Fuck it. Dominic can show up if he wants to, but I’m tired of wasting my energy wondering if and when he will get here. I fly around the bar, checking in on my customers and finally giving them the kind of attention they deserve. Judging by their less than friendly responses to my questions, I have not been a rock star tonight. I hope I can salvage the evening or my tips are going to suck. The door opens and of course I look because I have the willpower of a wet noodle. I look up in time to see a smiling Dominic Kane walking in, all wild dark hair and perfect cheekbones. I meet his eyes and smile widely, the kangaroo on the

trampoline celebrating wildly with a backflip or seven. He doesn’t smile. I swear, his eyes just smolder into mine with an intensity that does amazing things to my heartrate. I squeeze my thighs together against the little pulse of pleasure blooming between them. Damn it. There’s no way I can pull off irritated and angry when I’m busy lighting up from the inside out the moment I see him. I school my face into something I hope looks cool and detached and eye him as he makes his way towards the bar. Of course he smiles as he sits down and my own smile rebels against my embargo on outward displays of happiness. “What? No camera?” I ask. There’s no way I’m going home with pocket full of tips tonight. Not with Dominic here. The moment he sat down I gave absolutely zero fucks about the rest of my customers. “Is that all I am to you? A man with a camera?” He leans back, draping an arm over the flimsy back of the chair. Of course, this means he widens his legs a little, thrusting his hips forward. A natural movement without any meaning at all, but I can’t help but bite my bottom lip because hot damn! “Well, right now, you’re just a man,” I say, totally preoccupied by not trying to look at his crotch. “Exactly.” He arches an eyebrow. Lets his eyes wander over me like he has every right to look at me like I belong to him. And just like that I forgive him for making me wait. Forgive him for turning the sweet butterflies into back flipping kangaroos. Now that he’s here? The wait is totally worth it. “So.” Dominic leans forward and I step towards him, ever so aware of the wooden bar separating us. “Are you gonna take my order or do I just get to sit here and stare at you all night?” Beside him, The Fish turns and glares. “Good luck,” he mutters underneath his breath. “Is that all I am to you?” I ask, ignoring The Fish. “A woman with a drink?” The Fish makes an exasperated sound, but I only barely notice because Dominic puts his forearms on the bar and gets even closer to me. “Right now? You’re just a woman.” Imagine the hottest guy you can think of. Movie star. Singer. Athlete. Whatever gets you going. Now imagine him staring at you like you’re the only thing in the whole room that matters to him, like he’s starving and you’re a buffet, like he’s drowning and you’re dry land. And then in a voice as low and personal as he can possibly imagine, he points out that you’re a woman right after you point out that he’s a man and somehow makes it sound dirty. Like the most twisted and delicious bit of innuendo you’ve ever heard. Now multiply that feeling by a million. And you’re still not able to understand just how crazy I’m feeling right now. “What can I get you?” I ask. Me. Ask for me and I’m all yours, I think and hope it’s not written all over my face. “Whiskey, neat again?”

Dominic nods and I pour his drink, aware that The Fish is busy eyeing me and the rest of my customers probably need refills. I set his drink down in front of him without a word and take off to check in on everyone else, flirting shamelessly because I know he’s watching. Serves him right for making me wait and worry. “Did you see that you’re officially an internet celebrity?” he asks when I make my way back to him. I crinkle my nose and shake my head while he pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes it open. “Check Instagram.” Dominic opens up Instagram on his phone while I slide mine out of my back pocket. The picture he took of me yesterday, the one Maya said was the first picture to ever capture my personality, has over three thousand likes and a shit ton of comments. “Woah.” I look at my own account and have so many new followers I don’t even know what to do with myself. “I’ve got a bunch of messages,” I say, mostly to myself. “I wouldn’t open all of those, DoLo,” Dominic replies, using my Instagram user name. “I can bet you’re gonna find a bunch of—” “Oh my God!” I shriek, almost dropping my phone. Dominic laughed. “You opened one, didn’t you?” “Yeah.” I put my phone back in my pocket and look at him, hoping I don’t look as scarred as I feel. “Who would send that kind of stuff to a stranger?” “The male psyche is strange indeed.” Dominic swirls the last of his drink around the bottom of his glass and shoots it back. Without asking, I swipe up the empty glass and grab the flair bottle that I may have just happened to fill with a bit of high end whiskey when I showed up to work today. Making sure I have Dominic’s attention, I do just the simplest of trick pours, tossing the bottle up so it flips in the air once before I catch it upside down and it instantly begins pouring into his glass. “Nicely done,” he says, sitting back and giving me a little golf clap while a handful of people chuckle appreciatively. “Why thank you.” I put the drink down in front of him and dip my head in thanks. “You know any more tricks?” “Hell yeah, I know some more.” There is way more confidence in my voice than I’m feeling right now. I’ve been learning the ins and outs of flair bartending by watching videos on YouTube and practicing at home. I’m getting pretty good, but that simple flip pour was the first actual trick I’ve whipped out in front of actual people. Dominic is already fiddling with his phone. “Awesome,” he says, excitement lighting up his face. “Get prepared to get a little more internet famous.” Before I know what’s going on, he has The Fish holding his phone while Dominic gets the rest of the customers gathered around the bar. Apparently, I’m going to be the topic for his next video on his YouTube channel.

What. The actual. Fuck. The back-flipping kangaroos on trampolines are now also hula hooping flaming circles of death around their waist. I am so not ready for this. But, Dominic has the crowd whipped into a frenzy and The Fish has the phone pointed at me and before I know it, I’m throwing my hands up over my head and loosing a howling ‘woo’ of excitement. I grab the bottle and pretend I’m in my apartment and go through the routine I’ve been teaching myself. It’s not much. This isn’t Coyote Ugly and I’m not Tom Cruise in Bartender, but apparently it’s enough for this crowd because they’re cheering me on like this is the most fun they’ve had in a long time. I finish without dropping anything—thank God—and everyone cheers while Dominic motions for The Fish to keep recording. “So, DoLo,” he says, still using my Instagram name. “What other tricks do you know?” Totally aware of the camera in my face, I meet Dominic’s gaze. “A few.” I shrug coyly and bat my eyelashes, flirting mercilessly. What can I say? I love the spotlight. “Alright. Wow me.” I know more than my fair share of bar tricks, but I go with the first one that comes to mind. “I need an empty beer bottle,” I call out, hoping that someone is willing to play along. Before I know it, guys are chugging beer all around me and handing me their bottle. I grab the first one I find and make a big deal of needing to clean it out, but put just the tiniest bit of Spirytus—a fucking deadly Polish vodka that’s almost one hundred percent alcohol and therefore highly flammable—inside while my back is turned to the specators. I then cut a straw so it’s only a few inches long and push a toothpick through the top, making a tiny cross. After putting the straw in the bottle so the toothpick is resting on the rim of the bottle I ask people to try to get the straw out. “But,” I say, with a theatrical wave of my hands. “You can’t touch the bottle, the straw, or the toothpick. No knocking the bottle over in any way, shape or form.” Then I sit back and watch while people swarm the bottle, calling out possible solutions. Even The Fish looks like he’s having fun, zooming the camera from person to person. The only person not trying to solve the puzzle is Dominic. His eyes are locked on mine and I swear he’s mentally undressing me. I don’t know if I should cross my arms over my chest or stick my boobs out. I distract myself with the trick. “Give up?” I call out. When everyone agrees that there’s no way to get the cross out of the bottle, I pull a book of matches out from behind the bar, light one and drop it in. Of course, it ignites the Spirytus which shoots the straw out of the bottle in a burst of flames. There’s a chorus of shock and awe from the people gathered around. “Okay,” says Dominic, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. “How about

this? I set up a trick and if you can’t solve it, you have to kiss me.” Excuse me, what? I’m sure my jaw has dropped to the floor and the sounds of shock and awe from the crown mutate into testosterone fueled enthusiasm. They might as well be beating their chests as they egg Dominic on. “Fine,” I say, sitting back on my heel and putting my hands on my hips. “But don’t get your hopes up because I know all the tricks.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over all the commotion coming from the peanut gallery. Dominic smiles and takes his time setting up a trick, asking for the supplies he needs. He’s so completely in control of the situation, pausing to make jokes to both the camera and the people gathered around him. The bar has gone completely quiet. He’s got each and every patron in The Bad Apple in his hand. I know the instant he starts asking for the things he needs that I know how to solve this trick. It’s an obscure one, I’ll give him that. But come on. I’m the kind of girl who looks up bartending tricks and practices in her living room. Of course I’m going to know how to solve this one. What I don’t know is if I’ll admit it. For one thing, there’s so much expectation in the room right now, I almost hate to ruin the spell he’s cast. What kind of a letdown will it be after this huge set up when I just solve the problem without flinching? I almost hate to mess with his mojo. But the other thing is, I sure wouldn’t mind a good reason to kiss him. I mean, he’s hot. He’s charming. He’s talented. He might be as close to famous as I’ll ever get and he’s not going to be here very long. It might be the one cool thing I do in my whole life. I wander out from around the bar, studying the trick he set up, pretending like I need to see it at a different angle while I decide if I’m going to solve it or pretend like I don’t have a clue. The crowds part for me, but not much. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this small or this powerful in all my life, surrounded by people much bigger than me, all waiting to see what I’ll do next. I take one look at Dominic and bite my lip and in that moment I know what I’m going to do. I’m not the kind of girl who needs to look dumb in order to get people to like me. I light a match and solve his trick while the bar erupts in a cacophony of surprise. The Fish looks a little too delighted in the outcome while Dominic shakes his head. Just as regret settles hard and heavy on my heart—what was I thinking? I could totally be kissing him right now?—Dominic stands up. The bar goes quiet. His eyes are on my lips. He takes my face gently in his hands and pulls me close as he brings his mouth to mine. There’s a moment where I’m shocked. Just standing there with my arms slack at my sides, aware of the hoots and hollers shattering the silence around me. But then I taste him, his tongue darting out to caress my bottom lip. I take a deep breath in through my nose, my lungs filling and pressing my breasts into his torso. My hands act without my permission, winding their way up his back, balling his t-shirt into my fists. Dominic pulls away, his eyes still holding mine hostage. “Sorry,” he says, loud

enough for people to hear. “I’m a sore loser.” Struck by inspiration, my mouth operates before I have time to think, taking orders from my body instead of my head. “That’s okay. But now you know you have to take me out tomorrow night to earn that kiss you just stole from me.” I wait a few breathless seconds while the bar goes silent again. The Fish zooms in like he knows what the hell he’s doing with a camera, right in for a close-up of Dominic’s reply. “Sure, DoLo. I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I’M ON THE PHONE WITH CHELSEA AND SHE IS NOT PLEASED. “COME ON, DAKOTA. MAYA’S CLAMMED UP on me. She won’t even look at me when I say your name. Something’s going on, she knows about it, and it’s not good.” Damn Maya and her utter inability to lie. Hell, I didn’t even need her to lie. I just needed her to not say anything. I should have known better than to talk to her about Dominic. The fact that I’ve got Chelsea going all bossy big sister at me over the phone while I try to get ready for my date is my own fault, really. Although date may not be the best word for what’s happening today. I hear that word and I think about getting dressed up. Wearing a kick ass pair of shoes and a flirty little dress. I think dinner and drinks and dancing. You know, going to a place with people and energy that will give us a chance to talk and flirt. But Dominic is picking me up in the middle of the day. One o’clock in the afternoon to be precise. And he said to wear ‘sensible shoes’ and comfortable clothing. Sensible shoes? I mean, come on. What is he? An old woman? Who the fuck says sensible shoes? I put Chelsea on speaker phone and drop the phone on the bed while I pull on a tank top and a pair of shorts. I grab a light zip up jacket just in case. It’s August in Ohio, so that means it’s hot and humid, but I’m not always a big fan of air conditioning—at least not when it’s set to arctic like so many businesses like to do. If we go inside anywhere, I’m sure to freeze. “Dakota.” “Yeah?” I look down at my chest. Is that too much cleavage? I put on a push-up bra. You know, just in case. But with the girls pushed up so high and the neck of my

tank dipping so low… “Will you please take me off speaker phone and talk to me?” Chelsea actually sounds worried. Like she just found out I was going bridge jumping with my friends. And I know what she sounds like when that happens because, uh, that actually happened. With a sigh and a smile, I do as she asks. “Yes, Chelsea darling? You have my full and complete attention.” I head into the bathroom and check my makeup, sucking in my lips and dabbing at the corner of my eye to wipe away any renegade eyeliner. “You met a guy on Instagram?” she asks, so incredulous and so relieved to finally be able to ask me the burning question of the day. “How is that even a thing?” I laugh and grab my mascara out of my makeup box. “No.” I say it like that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Like she’s a fool for thinking it. Like the next thing I say is totally going to make her feel better. “I met him at The Bad Apple.” It doesn’t make her feel any better. “The Bad Apple?” Chelsea has gone supersonic, her voice squeaking and squawking in warning like the tornado sirens in an elementary school. Shit. I drop the mascara and turn away from the mirror, perching on the counter next to the sink. “Wait, wait, wait. Before you get all frantic about things. Yes, I met him at The Bad Apple—” “But what about—” I don’t give her a chance to even ask her question because I know just what to say to make her feel better. “But just listen. I met him at the bar. And before you get all up in arms about the rest, no, he doesn’t have a house or a car, but it’s for his job. Shades of gray, Chelsea, not black and white. This guy doesn’t really fall onto your scale the way you think he does. None of this matters.” She sighs and I can hear years of worry for an errant little sister wrapped up in the sound. Years of trying to solve problems for me that she’s certain will blow up in my face. “But it does matter.” I love my sister and she loves me. I’d fight a bear for her and right now, she thinks she’s fighting a bear for me so I really shouldn’t get irritated. “No,” I say, closing my eyes, getting irritated anyway. “It doesn’t. Dominic is a travel photographer. He’s on the go more than he’s in one place. He can’t be weighed down by all that stuff.” “But that means he can’t be weighed down by a girlfriend, either.” Ahhh. And here we come to the heart of the matter. At twenty-eight, Chelsea is feeling her singleness with a passion. “Chels, this is just a date. I’m not even in the market for a boyfriend.” “You’re going on a date?” And now she’s supersonic again. “I thought you were just flirting!” “Well, we were just flirting. But then I lost a bet and now I have to go one a date with him. It’s on YouTube.”

“YouTube?” Chelsea is genuinely baffled and I can’t help the wide smile that stretches across my face. “Yeah. And Instagram. It was a wild night.” I know I’m not helping. I know I’m only freaking her out all the more. And I know that the minute we get off the phone she’ll be Googling my name to find out just exactly what happened. “I gotta go, Chels. I promise I’m okay. You’ll see.” I hang up before she can protest and finish getting ready. Pull my hair back in a ponytail. Touch up the lip gloss. Skip downstairs and grab a drink of water. Despite the fact that the date was part of a bet, despite the fact that it’s in the middle of the day and I’m wearing sensible shoes, I’m very excited. I like Dominic. I’ve liked him for as long as I’ve been following him on Instagram, which is years now. I liked watching him take control of the crowd at The Bad Apple. I liked the way it felt to be sharing the spotlight with him. And hot damn did I like the way it felt to have his lips pressed against mine. His body pressed against mine. His hands on me. My hands on him. I shiver and close my eyes. I could most definitely go for some more kissing today. Maybe some rough petting. Hell, maybe I’ll just go right on ahead and make another bad decision and sleep with him. How many times in my life will I have the chance to make a bad decision with a mildly famous internet celebrity? I check the time. Ten ‘til one. I am not the best waiter in the world. I’m not even the best waiter in Townsbury. Whenever someone jokes around that patience isn’t one of their virtues, they just haven’t met me yet. If they had, they would consider themselves next to Gandhi on the patience scale. My foot is tapping and my fingernails clink on the glass of water as they drum a strange pattern. I have ten minutes and zero ability to focus on anything. I turn on the TV, but it’s just noise. I open a game on my phone, but it can’t pull my attention away from the clock. I open up Instagram and see Dominic’s face smiling back at me. That man takes a shit ton of selfies. But, since it was his wide grin that caught my attention back when I first started following him, I can’t really judge. I’m sure that’s how he catches a lot of his followers. I scroll and see a picture of an older couple. Hands clasped. Backlit by the sun angling through the window behind them. It catches my attention and I stop scrolling. Study these people with the happiness shining in their eyes. I read the description Dominic wrote up in his patented abbreviations. Wow. These people were on their fiftieth wedding anniversary when Dominic found them and, according to him, are still madly in love. That’s rare nowadays. Even my parents, who have managed to whether the storm of divorces that swept through my friend’s lives when we were younger, don’t have love shining in their eyes like these people do. Dominic is one hell of a photographer. He’s also late. By a good fifteen minutes now. And believe me, I’ve felt each minute as if it was an eternity as it ticked by on my clock. If I was jittery before, I am a ball of nerves now. It’s not like I’m one of those always early people. If we get

right down to it, I’m late more than I’m early. But still, that doesn’t excuse Dominic. You should never be late on a first date. That’s just the way of it. Fifteen minutes stretches into twenty which stretches into twenty-two and I give up pretending that I’m even paying a sliver of attention to my TV. I check Instagram for the seventeenth time, just in case he sent me a message and really regret the fact that neither of us thought to exchange phone numbers. I just blissfully gave him my address and he gave me a time and that had been that. Or maybe I was the one who hadn’t thought to exchange numbers. Maybe Dominic never intended to show up and very purposefully didn’t give me another way to get a hold of him. Well, if that’s the case, this guy has another thing coming to him. What’s the best way to get to an internet celebrity? Through the internet. If I was nothing more than a stunt to get him more followers, well, he’s got another thing coming to him. I’m busy trying to figure out just how stood up I need to be before I start making a scene on Instagram when there’s a knock at my door. A surge of excitement obliterates all the nervous anger that had been tightening my jaw just moments before and I spring from my perch on the armrest of my couch and sprint towards the door. “You’re late,” I point out, putting on my best stern face as I pull open the door. It’s all I can do not to smile when I see him. “Very.” Dominic nods and holds out a bouquet of flowers. “But I come baring a peace offering and one hell of a good story.” I’m a sucker for flowers. Especially when they come to me via smoking hot guys named Dominic Kane. I step aside and invite him in. “I’m all ears.” As much as I’m trying to pull off stern and irritated, my eyes are shining with excitement. I can feel it. And I can see it mirrored in his. “Well. It’s not really that good of a story. I stopped for flowers and the line ended up being really long and I don’t have your phone number.” He holds the bouquet out for me and I take it with a smile. “Hmm,” I say as I wander into the kitchen, searching for a vase, leaving Dominic in the living room studying the place like he might find the answer to our existence in the décor. “I’m not sure if that story counts or not. I may not be ready to forgive you.” “I guess I’ll just have to find other ways to make you forgive me,” he says. Anticipation zings through my body and I’m glad he can’t see me because I visibly shiver and press my thighs together against the little surge of desire that pools between my legs. “Okay.” I try to make it sound like I haven’t already forgiven him as I come out of the kitchen, vase in hand. I’m sure he can hear the truth in my voice. See it in my eyes. I’m not exactly known for my poker face. “But you’re going to have to really try.” Dominic smiles widely, his gaze hot and heavy and burning so deeply into my eyes I kind of stutter to a stop in the middle of the living room. “What?” I ask, uncomfortable.

“You,” he replies. “What about me?” I find the ability to move again, but it’s all shorted out and I don’t exactly feel graceful as I finish crossing the living room to put the vase on the coffee table. “Everything,” he says in a voice so sexy my insides clench deliciously. “Are you ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” I swipe my jacket up off the couch and grab my keys. Dominic puts his hand on my lower back as we head out the door, uses it to guide me towards a gleaming Mustang “Okay. So maybe it wasn’t just the flowers that made me late,” he says when I turn to him, eyes wide. “I had to turn in the Sentra I rented when I first got here for this baby.” “Wow.” I run a finger across the hood, shaking my head. “Why?” I’m genuinely curious, although I’m pretty sure the answer is obvious. Why drive a Sentra when you can get a Mustang? “Because,” says Dominic as he opens the passenger door for me. “You are not the kind of girl someone drives around in a Sentra.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

WE ZOOM THROUGH THE FAMILIAR STREETS OF MY HOMETOWN IN THIS HOT ASS CAR, DOMINIC EXCLAIMING over what he sees and pointing out the details of all the things I’ve taken for granted over the years. By the time we’re heading out of town, nothing about the place feels familiar anymore. He’s got his phone on his thigh, Google Maps open and navigating him out into the boonies. We pass cornfields and cows, the Mustang devouring the road, hugging the curves, the sun warm in the wide blue sky. Dominic has been all secretive about where we’re going, but I’m a pretty smart cookie. Judging by his request that I wear sensible shoes and the route he’s taking, I’m pretty sure we’re going to go hiking on one of the nature reserves nearby. While, again, this is nothing like what I had in mind—I’m more of a let’s hang out and get rowdy kind of gal—I do love to walk in the woods. We chat about the places he’s been to in the car ride over and I start to feel more and more like a country bumpkin. I grew up here and I never left here and how in the world am I going to be able to keep the interest of someone who’s been hiking in the Himalayas? Someone who’s been face to face with a lion and lived to share the picture? Someone who told me it was easier to tell me where he hasn’t been than to list the places he has been. “I always wanted to travel,” I say as Dominic pulls into a parking spot near one of the few national parks I haven’t explored. He pops the trunk and pulls out a huge ass backpack, his camera and gear, a monstrous water bottle. “Why didn’t you?” I try not to stare as he heaves the backpack over his shoulder and fail miserably. What kind of hike is he planning? “Eh.” I shrug and drag my eyes up to his face.

“All the same old excuses I’m sure you’ve heard a million times. Money. Commitments. Procrastination.” Dominic shakes his head. “Those things are all very real reasons and they’re also very much excuses. If you want to see the world, I say see it. Don’t wait. Life is for living, not for planning.” He ducks his head into his camera strap and hooks the water bottle to his backpack with a carabiner. “So. Uh. You’re very prepared,” I say, unable to hold in my curiosity any longer. “You only need to spend one night lost in the woods to never want to do that again.” “Lost in the woods?” I widen my eyes. “Did you have to spend the night?” “I had to spend a couple nights. And it rained. I was cold. Hungry. So tired. Got some great pictures.” Dominic shrugs as if to blow off the immensity of the experience. “It was one of my first trips into the Rocky Mountains. I was young and what I lacked in experience, I made up for in bravado. I made every mistake in the book.” He readjusted the heavy pack. “But, I also learned that I have what it takes to survive a bonus week in the woods without any supplies.” “How very burly of you.” “Oh yes. I’m very rugged.” I can’t help but take a look at him, his hands clasped on the straps of his pack, his jaw set, his eyes glinting, that carefully cultivated five o’clock shadow outlining his strong jaw. “I’m not sure rugged is the word I’d use,” I say before I have a chance to think through what I’m going to follow up with. Because the words I have in my head aren’t exactly first date kind of material. His jaw drops. “I have slept under the stars in a Namibian desert. I have climbed Mount Khuiten in Mongolia. I’ve endured the bitter cold of the Antarctic. You’re saying I’m not rugged?” Hot damn this guy is so cool and I am so out of my league. “Maybe you need a hat.” “A hat?” “Yeah. Like Indiana Jones. Now that guy’s rugged.” Dominic looks at me, this crazy, kind of incredulous look on his face. “You’re a little weird, you know that?” I shrug. “Hey, I’m not the one making a woman wear sensible shoes on a first date and then showing up with a huge ass mountain man backpack strapped to my back.” Dominic throws his head back and laughs, stopping in his tracks and closing his eyes. “See,” he finally says when he catches his breath. “You do think I’m rugged. There’s no way you can be a mountain man and not be rugged.” He puts a hand to my back and guides us onto one of the many available trails. “And, for the record, I didn’t show up with the backpack strapped to my back. I put it on later.” There’s humor in his voice. A tiny laugh joining his words. “As if that makes all the difference,” I say, every nerve in my body singing about the tiny points of contact that are his fingertips. His palm.

We wander in silence for a few steps, our feet falling lightly on the dirt path. Wind rustling in the trees. Sunlight filtering down, casting lace shadows at our feet. All around us is green. Luscious and rich. “First date, huh?” Dominic doesn’t look at me, but the corners of his mouth are twitching up into another one of those smiles I love so much. “You planning on having more than one?” “Wow. You’re not?” “Well, let’s see.” Dominic stops and studies me from head to toe and then back again. He makes a little swirling motion with his finger. “Turn.” My jaw drops, but I’m smiling. I pivot slowly, keeping my eyes on him and ducking my chin towards my shoulder, all flirty eyelashes and shy eye contact. When I finish one revolution, I bite my bottom lip and wait for his response. “I mean,” he says, and I can tell by the way his eyes are lighting up that I’m not going to like what he has to say. “I might have considered it, but those shoes are just way too sensible. What kind of woman wears shoes like that on a first date?” I resist the urge to slap his arm. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times. I get way too handsy. “The kind of woman who’s busy doing what she was told.” The wind makes the trees whisper, the leaves dancing above us. Dominic’s eyes go all hooded and lustful. This immensely serious look wipes away all traces of good humor. “Do you like it when men tell you what to do?” With anyone else, the warning bells would be going off in my head and I would be in serious stranger danger mode, but Dominic puts me at ease. My eyes stray to his lips. Would they feel as good as they did last night if I kissed him right now? Would he pull me in close? Would he run his hands up my back, under my shirt? Skin against skin? I realize he’s just standing there, watching me stare at him. Waiting for me to answer his question. I blush and swallow hard. Shrug and turn away. “Depends on the man,” I say over my shoulder. “Stop.” Dominic’s voice is husky. Almost harsh. There’s an edge that sets my blood on fire. I do what he says. Freeze in my tracks but don’t turn back around. “Don’t move,” he says, his voice still thick and warm, so sensuous it sends goosebumps racing across my flesh. The jingling and jangling of his backpack tells me he’s moving and then there’s the sweetest rush of contact as he traces his fingers ever so lightly up my arms. I shiver and my lips part. Dominic’s breath is warm on the back of my neck, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. I hesitate. If I turn around, I’ll be so close to him. Face to face. Chest to chest. Will he kiss me? Or better yet, will I kiss him? Impulse control has never been one of my strongest qualities. “Turn around, Dakota.” My name in his voice is a siren’s call to my libido. I do as I’m told. Spin slowly, carefully. Ever so aware of the tiny sliver of space between our bodies, charged with

heat and desire. Dominic is smiling down at me. Without a word, he leans in. Craning his neck to bring his mouth to mine. My lips part. My chest is heaving. My body thrumming and throbbing with excitement. I close my eyes. His lips never touch mine but I can feel how close they are. Our breath mingles. It’s like electricity racing against the delicate flesh of my lips. I open my eyes. Consider reaching up, closing the distance, forcing the kiss. He turns his face and I turn mine. He brings his hands to my hips, again, a touch that’s just barely a touch. The tiniest bit of contact that is somehow more powerful than if he had grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth to mine. These delicate whispers create a need in me, a flame I won’t be able to ignore until I have more of him. “Am I that man?” he asks, his lips moving against mine, fanning the flames. “That man you’ll give control to?” I want to answer, but I’m struck dumb by this man. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I lean in, almost without knowing, needing to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine. “Answer me, Dakota.” “Yes.” I don’t hesitate. I give him the answer that should embarrass me. The answer that is so unlike me but so very true because I’m sure that as soon as I do, he’ll end this delicious torture and kiss me. Dominic pulls away and if disappointment had a face, it would be mine. “Good,” he says and takes off walking, leaving me in a big heap of lustful, wet-pantied confusion. “Come on,” he says with a little jerk of his head and damn if I don’t scamper after him. We walk for a bit in silence, pausing every now and then for Dominic to take a picture. At first the pictures are of the trees. A flower. A close up of a moss covered rock on the bank of a small creek. But more and more often, he takes pictures of me. “Put your hands in your hair,” he says when he has me leaning on a tree. “Look down,” he says when he has me seated near the water. “Now smile a little like you have a dirty secret.” He mutters words like beautiful and exquisite. He watches me through the lens of his camera and as we wander the woods, I start to feel like I am both of those things. “Did you always want to be a photographer?” I ask as he pauses to arrange me on a fallen log. “Pretty much. Although I didn’t know it at first.” He steps back and studies me through his camera. Takes a picture. Drops the camera so it dangles from the strap around his neck. “I used to get lost in those National Geographic magazines. I didn’t know how I’d get to see all those places, just that I needed to. As soon as I figured out that the best way to get there was to be the one behind the camera, it was a done deal.” He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs are touching. “What about you. Is that how you felt about bartending?” The question takes me off guard and for a second I’m not sure if he’s making fun

of me or not. But one look at his face makes me think not. I laugh. “No. Not at all. I wanted to be a writer. The bartender thing was just a quick and easy way to get out of my parents’ house.” Dominic nods, widening his eyes in a look that says I get you there. “Not a happy childhood?” I shrug. “It wasn’t unhappy. My sisters are perfect. Hard working and so good at being good. I came along and messed up the London track record of perfect parenting. They weren’t happy with my grades. Weren’t happy when I wanted to write. Certainly weren’t happy when I chose to become a bartender. But it’s not all bad. We all manage to smile for the Christmas card.” Dominic looks at me, incredulous. “You do a family Christmas card?” “Ohhh yeah. Highlight of the season, let me tell you.” I shake my head as I speak to let him know just how sarcastic I’m being. “What about you? Any siblings?” “One.” Dominic turns his focus to his feet. “A sister. She died when we were young.” “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” “Yeah, me too.” He lets a long breath out through his nose. “We were close. It was hard. Still is. But after she died, my parents put all their hopes and dreams into me. Jenny was everything they ever wanted. The perfect kid to follow in my dad’s footsteps. Become a high powered lawyer with the big house and shiny car. Dad tried to get me to want that, too. And I tried, for him. For her. But it’s just not me. Mom secretly loves that I do what I do because she knows how much I love it. Would never tell Dad though. He might divorce her for siding with me.” He smiles but I’m not sure he’s joking. “She sends me care packages whenever I’m in one place long enough for them to get to me before I leave.” That statement hits me in the gut. I didn’t know it, at least not until this very moment, but I’ve been in the process of thinking about a second date with Dominic. And a third. And a fourth. I like this guy and I want him to like me. But, for all I know, he could be leaving tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then soon. And if not soon, well, he’s not staying. That much I know for sure. So it doesn’t matter how many dates I want to have with Dominic because this is going to end up being our first and last one. Something about this guy tells me that I could fall fast and hard for him and then he’ll leave, off gallivanting through the mountains and deserts and cities with buildings so tall I’d have to look straight up to see the sky while I rot here in Townsbury. This man, he is not for me.

CHAPTER NINE

HOLY FUCK IT’S TAKING EVERY OUNCE OF SELF-CONTROL I HAVE NOT TO JUMP DAKOTA RIGHT NOW, TEAR all her clothes off, pin her against a tree and fuck her senseless. The looks she keeps giving me. The way she moves. That body. That hair. But when she told me she was just following orders? Doing what she was told to do? My balls clenched so tight. And then, her flirty little response, almost a challenge. Depends on the man. And then I commanded her to stop and she froze. Moved to her and ran my fingers along her arms, my mouth at her neck, so much tension between us. I had her in my hands right then and there. She was wound up so tight that I would bet everything I own that if I had actually kissed her, we would have been naked and in the middle of some full on public indecency before I even knew what was happening. Not that I don’t mind some public indecency. Especially with a woman like Dakota. Something tells me that she is a hellcat in bed. That adventuresome spirit. That quick wit that rises to a challenge. And there goes my dick again, pressing against the zipper in my pants, clearly in full agreement as to how we feel about her. I distract myself with taking pictures. Some of the woods, which are pretty enough. But mostly, I just take a lot of pictures of Dakota. Some she knows about. I pose her and make her feel beautiful. She gets uncomfortable whenever the camera is pointed at her. Smiling too big. Panic tightening her eyes, warring with the smile that strains her pretty features. It’s been a project, but I’ve calmed her down. Posed her. Coached her. And now, when the camera is on her, those lips part. Her eyes light up. She feels beautiful. Which she should. Because she is.

But a lot of the pictures I take of her, she doesn’t even know about. I catch her watching the water. The turn of her head as she listens to a bird singing in the trees. The light in her eyes as she tells a joke. Those are the ones I’m most excited to see. “You take a lot of pictures.” “You say that like you’re surprised.” She shrugs and her eyes flit to me and damn it I should have captured that moment. “I guess I shouldn’t be. It’s just surprising is all. The reality of it. You live your life through that lens.” I clear my throat and plaster on a smile because she just stepped into a minefield and has not one single clue. My father’s voice echoes down to me through the years, repeating that same phrase. You can’t live your life through that lens. Jenny is gone. Don’t leave us, too. Not while you’re still here. “Challenges of making your living off it, I guess.” I watch her through the camera so she can’t see the strain on my face. “The more pictures I take, the more opportunity comes my way.” Dakota nods. “I see that.” She pauses to stretch, reaching her arms up over her head and rising up onto her toes. I get a flash of what she might look like, all stretched out and naked on a bed in front of me. “How many of those are going to end up on Instagram?” “Only the good ones.” “That’s a relief. So, like, none of me.” She smiles again, that big one that lights up her face. That stretches her mouth just a little too wide. The one she uses when she’s trying to be funny. It’s not her real smile. I’ve seen her real smile and it’s stunning. “I was thinking more like all of the ones of you.” And bingo. There it is. What I’ve come to think of as her real smile. It’s softer. Gentler. It doesn’t fight her eyes, it just makes them sparkle. I like making her look like that. We come to a river and she pauses on the rocky bank, crouches and dips her fingers down in the water just to feel how cool it is against her skin. “I love the water. Always have. I think I was born in the wrong place.” She stands. “I should have grown up near the water.” “You did.” I gesture toward the river. “I’m sure this isn’t the only river nearby.” “Yeah, but this isn’t what I mean. I’m talking about the ocean. Or a river that stretches wide. This one’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But…” She runs a hand along her head, smoothing back the hairs that have fallen out of her ponytail. “I sometimes daydream about saving up a little money, buying a shack on the beach —” “A shack? You don’t strike me as the type to go without running water.” Dakota shrugs. “I might surprise you. Besides, it’s just a daydream.” A smile. Her hands on her hips. A cock of her head. Damn I wish I had my camera on her right now. “A realistic daydream, I guess, because I’m fully aware I couldn’t afford more than a shack.”

“What would you do? In your shack on the beach?” “I don’t know.” A blush runs across her cheeks. “In my daydream I get by selling bracelets or something. Make just enough money to feed myself. I honestly don’t need a lot. I just want to be there instead of here.” “Now there’s something I can understand. That desire to move. To go. To explore.” She nods her agreement. “To experience. To learn. I feel stuck here.” I can tell she’s surprised by the admission. “Can you make bracelets?” “No.” Dakota laughs. “Like I said, it’s just a fantasy. I have a lot of them.” There’s a fallen tree near the bank. She wanders over and takes a seat and I sit next to her. “Oh yeah? Like what else?” “Oh no. I’m not sharing.” Her eyes bounce to my mouth and her shoulder brushes mine. “Oh, I think you’re going to share.” I put the edge of command into my voice and damn if her pupils don’t dilate. Her lips part. Her chest heaves. She hears it and she likes it and my cock springs to life. “It’s gonna cost you,” she says, pursing her lips and lifting her eyebrows. “Is it now?” “Yep.” She looks out over the water. “I don’t just give this shit away for free. My deepest darkest secrets. You’re gonna have to work for it, Kane.” It’s a challenge. I can hear it. All in good fun, I know, but it drives me crazy. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to get out of me, but I lean in close, invading her space. Her eyes drop to my mouth again and she licks her lips. “Oh yeah?” I ask. “What’s it gonna cost me?” Dakota swallows hard. “A secret for a secret,” she whispers, unnerved by my proximity. “What if I have something else in mind?” “Depends what you have in mind.” There’s only one thing on my mind right now, but I don’t answer. Instead, I slide my hand up the back of Dakota’s head, pull her close, and kiss her.

CHAPTER TEN

DOMINIC’S HAND IS IN MY HAIR, JUST WHERE I LIKE IT. HIS MOUTH IS ON MINE, JUST THE WAY I’VE BEEN dreaming about since last night. My back arches involuntarily, pressing my breasts into his chest. I part my lips, inviting him in, darting my tongue out to meet his when he accepts my invitation. I lean into him, offering more of myself to him, wanting his other hand on my body. When he finally slides that other hand up my arm, I sigh, my breath mingling with his. He twines a hand in my ponytail. Grabs hold. Pulls back. I gasp and find myself looking at a blue sky and sunlight filtering through the green leaves above me. His mouth is on my neck, kissing along my jawline and nibbling on my ear. I moan and he slides his other hand up even further, cups a breast, squeezes. My legs part, again, almost without my permission. As his mouth travels down to my breasts, my chest heaving, my panties getting wetter by the second, I realize that it wouldn’t take much for me to give myself to him right here and right now. This is new, even for me. I’m adventurous, but sex in the woods? Out in the open? I can’t believe that’s even a possibility. But it is. Holy hell. It is. I want his mouth back on mine, but his hand is still in my hair, pulling my head back. I slide my hands up into his sleeves, squeezing his biceps. “Please kiss me again.” I whisper because that’s all I can manage, this breathy rush of words. He releases my hair and I bring my mouth to his. Wrap my arms around him and shiver as he slides his hands up my back, under my shirt. I’m seriously considering climbing into his lap and wrapping my legs around him. Grinding my hips into him. Feeling him grow hard against me.

The crackling of feet crunching sticks and leaves, a woman laughing, the excited chatter of children, I hear it before I see it and pull away from Dominic, panting. I smooth back my hair and check my shirt to make sure the girls are still covered while Dominic adjusts his pants and wipes his mouth. I can’t help but look at his crotch and yes. He’s hard and straining against his zipper and I just want to touch it. Feel him grow even harder in my hand and know that he wants me. Instead, we scoot away from each other. Create some space between our bodies even though we’re still fucking each other with our eyes. Dominic grins and I bite my lower lip. “Don’t do that,” he growls. “It just makes me want to do it for you.” The hunger in his eyes makes my belly clench and I squeeze my thighs together, urging the family that interrupted us to move on so we can get back to where we were. Of course, the kids take one look at the river and come running into our little quiet spot, splashing around and throwing rocks, squawking at each other in excitement. The parents catch our eye and wave. In fact, they look dangerously close to coming over for a chat and I am so not in the mood to share Dominic with strangers right now. I want his eyes on me. His hands on me. His lips on me. His attention on me. As if he read my mind, Dominic stands up and offers me his hand. We leave the little alcove with a nod towards the family. Dominic lets go of my hand and wraps an arm around my shoulder and I swear I melt right into him, like I’m at home for the first time in a long time. We walk in silence for a while, and I’m totally fine with that. I’m busy remembering the feel of his hands in my hair, his lips on my chest, and trying to control the urge to jump him right here and now. “So really, I can’t get it out of my head,” Dominic says as we emerge from the woods and head towards his rental car. “Get what out of your head?” It’s a silly question, I know, because I’m pretty damn sure he means the super yummy make out session we just had in the woods. “You and your shack on the beach daydream. You really don’t strike me as the simple life kind of gal.” I hide my disappointment with one of my patented Dakota London super smiles. “Look around you, Kane. This place just screams simple life.” Dominic shrugs off the heavy pack and throws it in the trunk. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know if you’re prepared for the realities of a true simple life. You wake up and turn on the lights. Check the time on your phone. Brew your coffee. Drive to work in your car. Could you really do without those things?” “Oh hell yeah. The fact that you even have to ask that shows just how little you know about me.” And you were contemplating a wild wilderness romp with this man, says my inner voice of self-condemnation. On your first date, nonetheless. No wonder Chelsea worries so much about you. “Well then you’ll just have to enlighten me.” Dominic opens my car door for me and closes it once I’m tucked safely inside. I watch him cross in front of the car and

wonder just how much enlightening I should do. We’re crossing into ‘things I’ve never told anyone about myself’ territory. Is Dominic Kane really the first one I want to tell this stuff to? Even before Maya and Chelsea? As he slides into the driver’s seat, I realize that yes. Dominic is the person I want to share this stuff with because of all the people I know, he’s the one who’s most likely to understand. I wait for him to start the car and get us back on the road. He’s got his phone on his lap again, map open, navigating him somewhere that isn’t my apartment. “Have you ever heard of shipping container homes?” I kind of blurt out the question. It may be my most awkward segue into a conversation ever. “Yeah.” Dominic’s eyes light up. “People are buying shipping containers for cheap and turning them into living spaces. It’s part of the tiny house movement.” “Exactly.” The fact that he not only knows what I’m talking about, but also sounds excited about it bolsters my confidence. I go right on and blurt out one of my most secret daydreams. “I want to build one. Go full solar and figure out a water catchment system so I can go off grid. Plop it down in some remote area and just make my life small. Make the world my home.” I shrug. It sounds so plain out in the open like that. When so many people are busy chasing more money, more things, more stuff, it’s kind of anti-climactic to admit that I just want to exist on less and less. Dominic beams at me. “You just get cooler and cooler.” “Yeah? You don’t think it’s weird?” “Dakota.” His voice makes my name sound beautiful. “I am officially homeless. My entire life fits into a few bags and travels the world with me. It’d be a little hypocritical of me if I thought your desire to downsize was a weird.” He pulls into a parking lot of a restaurant I never even knew existed. “Hungry?” I’m about to say no, but my stomach rumbles loudly. “I guess I am,” I say, looking down in shock. We head inside a quaint restaurant with a spectacular menu. One where the owners are busy behind the counter and in the kitchen, strolling through the dining room and talking to customers. The food is simple and delicious and I eat way more of it than I typically would on a first date. “What’s the best place you’ve been to?” I ask once our plates are empty and our bellies are full. Dominic considers for a minute and then looks me straight in the eye. “I’m going with Townsbury, Ohio.” His eyes glitter as he raises his eyebrows. “But that might be the company.” I smile as I take a drink. As cheesy as that comment was, it totally worked. I’m busy doing internal cartwheels. “Okay company aside. Favorite place? Favorite experience?” “Wow. That’s hard. I say yes to almost every experience that comes my way.” “Me too! Not that I’ve had too many come my way because…” I flare my hands. “Townsbury.” I say it like that explains everything. “Not many experiences actually

come my way.” Dominic shakes his head. “Maybe you should start making experiences instead of waiting for them.” He has a point, but I’m not in the mood to concede it to him. “Or maybe you should share some of your favorites with me so I can live vicariously through you.” He tells me about the time he went cliff jumping in Bora Bora. About the time he ziplined in Kauai. Sandboarding in Dubai and then again down Cerro Negro Volcano in Central America. Caving in Kuala Lampor. “And those are just the thrill-seeking adventures. Those are great, but some of the other things are just as impactful, if not as adrenaline packed.” I’m shaking my head, jealous of all that he’s seen and done. “Wow. And here I am, just sitting here, a lowly bartender. I can’t even chase after my dreams because I don’t really know what they are.” “That’s not true on so many levels. You’re no lowly bartender. Have you seen how many comments our YouTube video is getting?” Dominic waits for me to admit that I haven’t. “You should peek. I think you’d get a kick out of it. But as far as dreams go? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard two of them today alone. Writing and simplifying your life.” He holds up a finger with each item. I circle a finger around the edge of my glass. “Yeah, but the writing thing will never happen and my life can’t get much more simple than it already is.” “You’re deflecting, Dakota. Stop it. You spoke about living in a shack near the ocean and a shipping container house out in the wild somewhere. That’s the kind of simplification I’m talking about. Imagine living in a simple house like that and writing.” My heart surges with excitement just hearing him say those words. “I imagine it all the time,” I say truthfully. Sadness pulling down on the corner of my lips. “But those things just aren’t realistic.” “Why not?” “Because…” I search for a decent answer. “It’s just not. People don’t do that.” “Yeah. They actually do. There’s no reason why you can’t be one of them.” The crazy thing is, as soon as he says that, all the reasons I had in my head why I couldn’t just build my strange house and live my strange life fall away. “My family would think I’m crazy.” “I bet they already think that.” I laugh. “I bet they already do.” “Just something to think about.” “Yeah, but what would I write? What would I do? Where would I live? I bet I could save up the money for the house quick enough. But then there’s land to think about…” I’m smiling so big it hurts and I feel lit up from the inside out. Dominic reaches across the table and takes my hand. “It opens up a whole new world, doesn’t it? Accepting that others might think you’re a little crazy and realizing that it’s okay.” “I guess. I don’t know if I’ve accepted anything yet, but I sure do have a lot to

think about now.” “As long as you promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t let that voice of reason talk you out of going for what you want.” “You can bet your sweet ass I’ll really look into it.” And I bet it is actually quite sweet. “I haven’t felt this excited in a long time.” “Good.” We finish our drinks and Dominic pays the bill and I’m feeling super disappointed when he finally pulls into my parking lot and turns off the car. I almost ask him how long he’ll be in town, but I don’t really want to know the answer. I mean, I do. I want to know how many days I have left with this guy. But I just don’t want to hear that he’s leaving. I feel so alive when I’m with him. I hate to think of that fading away after he leaves. Dominic walks me to my door and there’s no way he’s getting out of here without kissing me. “This is the first time I don’t regret losing a bet,” I say as I pretend to fish for my keys. “Oh come on. Fess up. You knew how to solve that trick and you lost the bet on purpose.” I look up, surprised, hand frozen in its pretend journey to the bottom of my purse. Dominic laughs. “That face says it all.” I open my mouth, looking for the right thing to say and find absolutely nothing at all. “I may have let you win.” I shrug. “Just like I might be pretending I can’t find my keys because I wonder if I stall long enough you might kiss me again.” What. The. Fuck? Did I actually just say that out loud? I’m still processing the fact that yes, I was just that bold when Dominic leans in and kisses me. My hand clasps around my keys as his hands come to my waist and pull me in closer. I fumble with the lock as he fumbles with my shirt, barely aware that we’re still outside where anyone could walk by and see. Finally, I get the door open and we stumble inside, a staggering mess of hands everywhere and mouths everywhere else. I drop my keys and my purse. Kick the door shut and throw caution to the wind. This day with Dominic has been an experience and I’ll be damned if I start saying no now.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WE’RE BARELY IN MY APARTMENT AND I’VE GOT MY HANDS ON HIS PANTS. I WANT TO LOSE CONTROL WITH him, get crazy with him, stop listening to all the voices of reason and do what my instinct says is right. And right now, everything about Dominic Kane is right. I get his button undone as he drops his mouth to my chest. I groan and drop my head back. His mouth is magic. He pulls my shirt over my head and I mentally send a thank you to Morning Me for choosing one my prettiest bras. “Damn, Dakota. You’re beautiful.” Dominic steps back and admires me. “It should be illegal for you to wear clothes.” “Says the man who’s wearing too many himself.” I step forward and slide down his zipper. Reach into his pants and grab his cock. Dominic growls, his eyes focused on my hand. “How do you want this?” he asks and I’m confused. “How do you want this?” I parrot him coyly trying to gauge his meaning. Dominic pinches my nipple. Twists just a little. I gasp, but smile because that’s just how I like it. When it feels so good it almost hurts. He sees the look on my face and lust darkens his eyes. “Get on your knees, Dakota.” That hard edge is back in Dominic’s voice and I just about melt. He undresses while I do what he says, his dick springing free and straining towards me. I open my mouth as he gets close, trail my tongue around his tip, thrilling in that little drop of moisture beading there. He sighs, deep in his throat, his eyes on me, so intense. It ignites me. He grabs a fist full of my hair and slides himself all the way to the back of my throat, pumps his hips a few times and then pulls out. I take a deep breath and wipe saliva off my

lips. He’s watching me, trying to see if I like what he’s doing. Keeping my eyes on his, I open my mouth and draw my tongue across his length. A smile plays across the corner of his lips. “You like this?” I nod. “Use me.” My words are a whisper, another admission of my most secret desires. “I won’t use you, baby. But I promise I’ll take you places you’ve never been before.” His words send a thrill through my body and I take the base of his dick in one hand while I gently cup his balls with the other. Using my lips and my tongue, I slide my mouth along his shaft, first just teasing him and then moving with more purpose. His moans egg me on. He grows harder as I bring him ever so close to climax and I move faster still, the thought of bringing him so much pleasure exciting me. His hands go back to my hair. He pulls my head back, a string of saliva still connecting us. “You almost made me lose control.” I smile up at him. “Good.” “No, no, no. That’s not good at all. I never lose control.” He steps back, giving me space. “Stand up.” As soon as I do, he reaches around, deftly unfastening my bra. He takes a breast in one hand, kneading and massaging while his mouth goes to the other. Teasing my taut nipple with his teeth and his tongue. He tugs at the waist band of my shorts and I pull them down, unceremoniously kicking off my sensible shoes. “Spread your legs,” he says, his breath tickling my tortured nipple. I do it and his hand goes to my center, his finger slipping inside my opening. I groan and grab his dick, sliding along his shaft as he simultaneously drives me crazy with his fingers. I’m shocked to discover that I’m soaking wet. That’s not normal for me. Not at all. But nothing about Dominic is normal. Everything is better. Of course, this would be, too. He brings his hands to my shoulders and spins me around. Guiding me towards the armrest of my couch. “Bend over,” he demands and I do it, spreading my legs without having to be told. “Hot damn, baby,” he says. “You are so fucking hot. I could look at you like that all day.” Thank everything that can be thanked that he didn’t take himself seriously. I hear his belt jingle and I turn my head in time to see him pull a condom out of his wallet. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll it on before he strides over to me and presses his tip against my opening. He slides himself in, just the tiniest movement. I gasp and and groan, try to push back against him so I can have more of him. All of him. I want all he has to give me. He pulls back and suddenly I’m empty. Aching for him. Needing him to be right back where he was. He slaps my ass and I whimper, burning with desire. When I go still, he presses against me again. Slides himself deep inside me, inch by delicious

inch. I am filled by him. Made whole by him. And just when I think he can’t possibly get deeper inside me, he grabs my hips and pulls me back. His dick presses inside me, hits a spot I’ve never felt before and I cry out as pain and pleasure twine together. “Oh fuck, Dominic, you feel good.” He pulls out only to push forward again. “Oh no baby, that’s you. Your tight little pussy feels so good.” No one has ever spoken to me like that before in my life and I swear it almost makes me come right then and there. I gasp and he starts moving, driving himself inside me again and again. I love the way it feels. Like no other before him. His hands are on my hips, helping to pull me back as he thrusts forward, bringing him deeper and deeper into me. I gasp and moan. Call out. Who is this woman? I don’t make noise during sex. I don’t speak. And here I am, crying out louder and louder, loving the sound his body makes when it slams into mine. “Oh, shit. Dominic! I’m going to come!” My eyes roll back into my head and an orgasm like I’ve never experienced rolls over me, my muscles clenching around him as he continues to stroke inside me. He brings his hands around to my clit and flicks it. My eyes spring open and I make a sound I’ve never heard myself make before. “That’s right, baby,” he says, thrusting into me. “Come for me. Come on my dick.” And just like that, I do. If I thought I was having an orgasm before, then apparently I never knew what an orgasm is because this. This that I’m feeling right now. It’s life changing. It’s amazing. It’s eyes closed and legs weak. It’s collapsing into the armrest and calling out his name over and over as euphoria rolls through me and Dominic increases his speed. It’s everything. He’s everything. Dominic shudders and thrusts into me, coming with a groan, using my hips to pull himself as deep inside of me as he can get. I clench around him, another wave of pleasure zinging through me before my body finally relaxes and I sag onto the armrest. “Are you okay?” he asks as he slides out of me. I manage to nod my head and flip around, perch on the edge of the couch, careful not to get any moisture on it. “More than okay.” I look him deep in the eyes. “That was amazing.” “Yeah it was,” he agrees and rolls the condom off, hitting me with a questioning look. I direct him to the downstairs bathroom where he can clean up and throw it away. I run upstairs and towel off, grab a fresh pair of panties, and then get dressed. When I come back down, Dominic is perched on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, playing with his phone. “Thirsty?” I ask, suddenly over the top nervous. Now what? Is he staying? Is he going? Do I just sit down next to him like nothing happened? “Do you have anything alcoholic?” “Do I have anything alcoholic, he asks.” I smirk, trying not to show my growing

sense of unease. Despite what my sisters think of me, I am not a one-night stand kind of girl. I don’t know what to do with a near stranger who now has intimate knowledge of me sitting on my couch. “You’re looking at the premiere bartender in Townsbury. The only bartender for miles who has even the faintest clue about flair bartending…” I trail off and flare my hands, my big old goofy grin plastered on my face. Dominic looks unimpressed and my nerves unravel just a little bit. “So, that’s a yes?” “That’s a yes.” I rattle off a short list of alcohol, mostly girly flavored vodkas. “Sadly, I don’t have any whiskey. Do you like martinis?” “Sure. Dirty?” Dominic has his attention plastered to his phone and this is so not helping the overall level of awkward in the room. “Of course. The dirtier the better.” That gets his attention. He looks up and smiles for the first time since I came downstairs. “Make me my drink, woman,” he says. “Then come here and sit next to me.” He pats the couch and the big ball of nerves inside me starts to relax. I make our drinks —dirty martini for him, something a little fruitier for me because ugh, olives—and then head back into the living room. I hand him his drink and just stand there, needing another invitation to sit down for some reason. Dominic takes a drink and nods appreciatively. Looks up at me and opens his arms. “Come here, beautiful. Cuddle with me.” That’s all the invitation I need. I sit down as close to him as I can get and drape my legs over his lap. He wraps an arm around me and I drop my head onto his shoulder. We sit like that for a while, quietly sipping our drinks and I let loose a long breath, melting into him. “You okay?” he asks. I nod, closing my eyes and breathing him in. “So okay,” I say and I mean it. I haven’t been this okay in a long time. “You have a magic penis.” And just like that I am no longer okay because what the fuck did I just say to him? He laughs and cranes his neck to make eye contact with me. “Did you just say I have a magic penis?” “I did. And you do.” I take a long drink. “Please. Do explain.” “Just that if that was an orgasm, I don’t think I’ve ever had one before. And I totally credit you and your magic penis for the way I’m feeling right now.” “And how are you feeling right now?” At home. Relaxed. Complete. Of course I can’t say anything like that. Not on our first date that’s probably also our last. I just lean my head back into his shoulder and sigh. “Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful,” I say and try not to worry about a time when he’s gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE LAST FEW DAYS HAVE JUST FLOWN BY. THE PICTURES FOR THE BED AND BREAKFAST ARE FINISHED AND ready to email to the owners. They loved the one of the couple celebrating their fiftieth anniversary and asked them if they could use it for promotional reasons the day they checked out. The couple seemed absolutely tickled and agreed. Of course, with no more pictures to take, there’s really no reason for me to stay here much longer. The owners haven’t mentioned anything to me about leaving yet, but I can see it in their eyes. They’ve gotten what they need out of me. It’s time for me to go. And they’re not wrong. I need to be in Vegas in a week, the Grand Canyon just before that. I’ve got a shoot at a resort. A swanky place, all shiny and new. And let me tell you, if it’s shiny in Vegas, that’s something. They’ve comped me a room in exchange for some pictures for their website, but that room isn’t mine until next Friday. I’ve got shots at the canyon on Monday, but there’s no hotel room for me there. I have a campsite reserved at the North Rim Campgrounds and I’ll be sleeping in a tent until I get to Vegas. Anyway, long story short, it’s time for me to leave Townsbury. Under normal circumstances, I would be more than okay with that. Townsbury is fine and all, but Dakota’s right. There’s really not much here and I’m getting that itchy feeling that means it’s time to go. I’m a nomad by nature. Staying in one place too long makes me tense. Of course, I’ll never tell Dakota she was right about this place. For one thing, she’s the kind of girl that would never let me live that one down, holding it over my head for as long as she knows me. But for another? She’s restless as it is. This place is suffocating her. Strangling her. If she knew that I felt the same way about her

hometown as she did? I think it would just kill off that spark inside her. To make things all the more strange, I don’t want to leave because I’m going to miss her. Of all the people in all the world that I’ve met, she is one of the few that I’m going to think about after I’m gone. One of the few that I’m going to want to stay in contact with. One of the few that I might actually want to come back and visit. I see myself in her a little bit. Stifled by the stillness of life in a small town. By a family that loves her so dearly but wants her to fit inside the box they deem normal. Dakota is color and energy. She’s vibrant, effervescent. She’s champagne when everyone around her wants beer. There’s no way she could fit in a box. There’s not a straight line on her. Damn. That’s been happening a lot lately. Whatever I’m supposed to be doing gets taken over by thoughts of her. Like right now, I’m supposed to be packing up my things, getting ready for when the owners of the bed and breakfast ask me to leave, but here I am staring off into space, coming up with silly metaphors to describe Dakota. That girl has really gotten under my skin. With good reason. I’ve been with her every day since I got here. We talk. We laugh. We fuck like crazed bunnies. Oh hell, do we fuck. She told me she’s not one to say no to any experience on our first date and boy has she ever proven that to be true. The things she’s let me do to her… My dick jumps to life and I readjust my pants. I fully intend to do things to her tonight, after she gets off work and poor Mr. Happy just isn’t feeling very patient right now. I wonder what she would say if I just grab all my stuff and ask to stay at her place until it’s time for me to head off to Vegas. Just skip the Grand Canyon altogether in order to get a few extra days with her. Would it weird her out? Would she read more into it than what it is? And just what exactly is it? asks a voice somewhere deep inside my head. “Fuck. I don’t know,” I answer out loud and start gathering up my things. Pulling clothes out of the dresser and closet. Folding them up. Stacking them inside my bags. I always love this part. It feels like sloughing off the old. Keeps me fresh. Keeps me alive. Keeps that awful fidgeting feeling I get when I stay still too long from showing up. Keeps me from having to think too much about the past. I shake my head and clench my jaw. It always comes back to that. No matter how many years pass. No matter how many times I leave a place. I always find myself thinking about my sister and how much I miss her. How her death rocked me, changed my course. And then there was Melinda and that awful day at the carnival… You would think I’d have outrun those thoughts by now, but I guess it’s hard to outrun stuff that’s a part of you. Honestly? I’m surprised I didn’t lose my mind being here as long as I was. So close to home. So close to where it all happened.

I think the only reason I’m not walking around under a black cloud of angst and memories is Dakota. Her smile. Not the one that’s too big, too wide. Not the one she brings out when she’s trying to hide how she really feels. The real one. The one I wait for when I’m taking pictures of her. Her laugh. Her sense of humor. Her body. Hell yes, her body. The one I’m going to ravage tonight when I get to her apartment. I fit her like a glove, stretching that tight little pussy, and I swear she starts to come the very moment I push myself inside her. A guy could get used to that. And there we go. I’m hard again. I think I’ve been hard since I met her. Fuck. I’m going to miss her. I stuff the last of my shirts into my bag and grab a handful of boxer briefs and socks and zip everything up. Maybe I shouldn’t go see her tonight. Maybe I should just go. My stuff is packed, all my material possessions zipped up into a few black bags sitting on some random bed in some random place. What good is it? Drawing out the inevitable? Why spend more time with her if I’m already worrying about missing her and I haven’t even left yet? Maybe I just rip the bandage off now. Leave before she has time to actually mean something to me. The last thing I need is someone else’s ghost chasing me around the world.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE BAD APPLE IS ON FIRE TONIGHT. IT’S BEEN ON FIRE FOR THE LAST SEVERAL NIGHTS, REALLY. EVER since Dominic’s video hit YouTube, people have been flocking here, eager to talk to me. To meet me. To watch my super slick—not really, I’m still very clumsy!— bartending skills. My flair bottles have multiplied, curtesy of Big Jake, my boss. He wants me tossing them around at regular intervals, which was exciting at first, I’m not going to lie, but now? Honestly, it’s just getting hard to find the time to put on a show when so many people are wanting drinks. At this rate, they’re going to have to bring in another bartender on my nights or people are going to start getting irritated by how long they sit with an empty glass. A light layer of sweat is beading at my forehead and a drop works its way down my back as I rush from one set of customers to the next. Tonight’s crowd is particularly rowdy. Each and every seat at the bar is taken and everyone wants my attention at once. And not just for drinks. Oh no. Apparently, I’m supposed to take bets on bar tricks and kiss random customers at regular intervals, too. The Fish has been here every night since Dominic shot that video, trying to stretch his fifteen minutes of fame into a lifetime event. Thankfully, he has lost interest in flirting with me and I have had the immense pleasure of watching him get shot down by so many different women I’ve lost track. Tonight, he has a friend with him, a man whose features are all fighting for dominance on his overly square face. None of them are winning that particular battle. “DoLo!” The Fish shouts my Instagram user name like he has a right to. “This is Jeremy. He has a trick for you.” “Really?” Him and half the bar. I try to look interested, but I’m so tired of

pretending like I’m excited about all this stuff. “Yeah.” Jeremy leers at me. “Flynn has his camera all ready. There’s no way you’ll guess this one. We’re gonna put it up on YouTube just like that other guy.” Finally, The Fish has a name. And wouldn’t you know, it’s Flynn. I can’t stand Jeremy. I don’t know why. He’s said a whole three sentences to me but the guy just makes my skin crawl. When I slide his drink his way, he grabs my hand and my first instinct is to recoil. On any given day, I’m not a big fan of the customers getting handsy, but when Jeremy’s sticky, clammy hand clamps down on my wrist, I yank it away and scowl. “Hands to yourself, big boy,” I say with a look that is not fun, not flirty, not subtle. All bitch. Jeremy holds his hands up and sits back. “I get it,” he says and the relief I feel is so massive it has to be written all over my face. Hdoesn’t look like the kind of guy who would get the point on the first go. He leans forward again, his big old lips twisting into a smile that has my skin crawling. “I like a girl who plays hard to get.” Great. Not only did he not get it, he also thinks I’m flirting. I hurry off to take really good care of the rest of my customers, thankful that we’re this busy. With Jeremy and The Fish sitting right at the bar, it would be hard to keep space between us if The Bad Apple was in the middle of a typical Monday. As it is, they leer at me every time I come back their way to cash someone out. “DoLo!” Jeremy calls after me just a little too loud. “C’mere.” He gestures with his hand; a movement he probably thinks is sexy but just looks ridiculous on a grown man. “Get the camera ready, Flynn.” Jeremy elbows The Fish who then fumbles with what looks like a brand new piece of equipment. Well hell. Seems like this is really going to happen. Under normal circumstances, I would be cold and almost rude to these two. Really make sure that they get the picture that I’m not flirting. I’m not interested. And I’m not going to be any fun. But, wouldn’t you know, the rest of the bar has taken notice and people are gathering around. Everyone’s all excited about another video experience going down at The Bad Apple. If I pull out my super bitch now, not only will I alienate this whole crowd, but there will be video evidence that I’m not always a nice person and The Bad Apple might lose its draw. What to do? What to do? I watch as Jeremy sets up a trick that I recognize within the first few steps. Anyone who’s spent any time in a bar at all is going to know this one and I’ll look like a fool if I don’t guess it. Which will discredit Dominic’s video. Which may or may not make him mad. The last thing I want to do is hurt Dominic. He’s made himself a pretty prominent figure in my thoughts—and my dreams! Hot damn the one I had last night was delicious! We’ve spent the last few days together and the more I learn about him, the more I like him. And the more I like him, the more I worry about him leaving. But none of that is relevant right now because Jeremy has set up the trick and

the entire bar is gathered around. I’d like to call the conversation they’re all having at once a ‘gentle murmur’ but this crowd is a little extra toasty for a Monday night. There’s nothing ‘gentle’ or ‘murmury’ about the roar of words and laughter cheering us on. The Fish has his camera up and running, swooping in and out like he thinks he’s the next best Hollywood cameraman and the rest of the patrons are leaning in, trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame on the next Bad Apple video to blow up the internet. Jeremy stands up. Puts a finger to his mouth. “Shhh.” He’s sloppy drunk, trying to be coy and stumbling as he turns to address the bar. “This one is sure to get her.” He goes on through his intro, referencing Dominic’s video and placing the same stipulations on me losing as he did. If I don’t figure it out, I have to go out with him. I study the crowd, trying to decide how they’ll react if I shoot this guy down for the entire internet to see. A handful of them are openly laughing at him. The rest? I don’t know. They’re as drunk as he is. I’ve already decided that I’m going to solve his puzzle. That’s a no brainer. I’ve also decided that I’m definitely staying behind the bar. There’s no way I’m getting myself any closer to these guys than I am already. And just like that, Jeremy has finished his opening spiel and The Fish has the camera pointed at me. Someone in the crowd is shushing the others and an expectant almost-silence falls over the place. From somewhere in the back comes the crack of a cue ball bouncing off billiard balls and the familiar roll and thunk that comes after a good break. Someone calls out in disappointment, surely the guy who didn’t get to break, and I wish I was standing back there with them. I love the spotlight, but not like this. Not when it’s forced and unwanted. Not when I’m busy worrying about how the whole damn world will take it. “Look,” Jeremy says, giggling like an idiot. “She’s confused.” He all but points and laughs at me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you’ll have a real nice time when we go out.” And then the asshole does the most asshole-y thing he could have possibly done in this situation. He puts his fingers to his mouth in the shape of a V and flicks his tongue between them. The crowd is equal parts shocked and ecstatic, judging by their raucous reaction. Me? I’m disgusted and irritated and ready for this part of my day to be over. I arch an eyebrow and purse my lips, ever aware of the camera in The Fish’s hand. With very little flare and a cold eye trained on the grinning Jeremy, I solve his puzzle. I shrug and tilt my head to the side, making a very sarcastically apologetic face. The crowd loses its mind and I can’t help but smile, folding my arms on the bar and leaning forward. I’m relieved. Jeremy made himself enough of an ass that I don’t think anyone would judge me for being a bit of a bitch and The Bad Apple might get to keep on riding its swell of internet fame and I can keep going home with a fat wad of tips in my purse. Of course, I’m an idiot. What was it Dominic did after I solved his puzzle on camera? Oh, that’s right, he grabbed me and kissed me. I thought I was smart to

stay behind the bar, but I forgot the power that is alcohol mixed with stupid mixed with a bruised ego caught on camera. Jeremy grabs my arms and pulls me forward, leaning in with his sausage lips open and heading right for my mouth. I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut so he just gets a mouthful of my hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Oh no. He’s got my arms and he’s not letting go, pulling even harder. I plant my feet and try to pull away but damn, he’s strong. My ribs and hipbones dig into the hard wood of the bar. I hear the clink of ice against glass as we bump into his drink and then the twinkling of shattered glass as I struggle and knock it right to the ground. I shriek just in time for Jeremy to be pulled off me by some good Samaritan in the crowd. Off balance, I stagger back and almost fall right on my ass, but manage to catch myself against the wall of booze behind me. There’s a struggle and a scuffle and the energy of the crowd goes from good-natured fun, to angry mob in a heartbeat. Jeremy is locked in some kind of strangle hold, struggling, his big eyes even bigger, wide and rolling with adrenaline. “Settle down, asshole.” I know that voice. Excitement surges through me at the sound of it. Dominic. Dominic is the guy who saved me from being assaulted. Jeremy obeys Dominic’s command and stops struggling. “You in control?” asks Dominic, his voice low and in powerful. The warning rattle of a snake. The growl of a bear. “Because I’m going to let you go now and you’re just going to stay right where you are. Understood?” Jeremy nods frantically, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the bar. The crowd is silent and The Fish still has the camera trained on his friend. Dominic doesn’t let him go, but turns his attention to me. “You okay if I release him?” he asks, his voice softening, his eyes seeking out mine. I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” My hands are shaking, but my voice isn’t, so at least there’s that. Dominic steps away from Jeremy. “Apologize.” His voice is all pointed again. Wicked. Jeremy mumbles an apology and leaves, his pride battered and his friend still recording it all. There’s a rush of energy as attention turns to me. So many people are crowding in towards the bar, asking if I’m okay, retelling the story to their friends who just watched the whole thing, cell phones out and aimed my way. The shelf on the back wall presses into my back and I realize that I’m recoiling, arms wrapped around my chest. “Give her some space,” orders Dominic. He makes his way behind the bar and wraps me up in his arms. “You okay for real?” he whispers into my hair. I nod, not quite trusting my voice. I hate to be one of those women who dissolves into nervous tears after something like this, but it looks like that’s exactly what I’m about to do. “I’m sorry,” I say, preemptively apologizing for the scene I might

make in a few seconds. “Don’t you dare apologize.” He drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close. Leads me to a stool at the end of the bar, far away from any people and pours me a drink. “You shouldn’t be back there,” I say, voice strong. No quaver. “Says who?” “Says Big Jake, the owner.” Dominic makes a show of looking around. “Not only is Big Jake not here, but he wasn’t around when his most famous bartender of all time got assaulted on the job. I think this Big Jake has a lot more to worry about than me behind the bar, pouring you a shot of vodka.” He hands me the shot and I throw it back. I prefer mixed drinks, but I’m not feeling picky tonight. The quaking feeling in my hands and stomach goes away and when Dominic pours me another shot, I throw that one back, too. He sits next to me. Holds my hands in his and inspects me for any damage. There’s an angry red mark on my arm that’s sure to bruise. A scrape on my hip. But all in all, I’m okay. “I should have hit that guy,” says Dominic, his finger running gently across the mark on my arm. “I wouldn’t have minded. Although I’m glad you didn’t.” I say it because that’s the right thing to say. The decent thing to say. But right and decent aside, there’s a part of me that gets really excited thinking about Dominic punching that jerk. He asks what happened and I explain. “I’m so sorry, Dakota.” “Why? It’s not your fault.” “Would this have happened if it wasn’t for my video?” “No, but…” I trail off when Dominic holds up his hand. “Then it is my fault. Inadvertent though it may be. Besides, even if it wasn’t at all my fault, can’t I be sorry that you’re hurt and scared and some asshole put his hands on you when you didn’t want them there?” The look in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch, the open honesty in his voice, they all have my head reeling. I put my hand to my heart and open my mouth to tell him just how sweet he is when Big Jake comes lumbering up to us, invading our space. “What the hell, London?” He crosses his meaty arms over his massive belly and glares. “I don’t pay you to sit on your ass and flirt with my customers.” His eyes land on the shot glass so clearly sitting in front of me. “And I sure as hell don’t pay you to drink on the job.” He takes a step forward, shaking his head. Dominic stands up. “Do you pay her to get assaulted by one of your customers?” Big Jake looks confused and shakes his head. “No? I didn’t think so.” Dominic looks around the bar, spying the manager’s office that Jake holes up in each night. “This place isn’t very big and that office isn’t very far away. Are you telling me that you didn’t hear all the ruckus just a few

minutes ago?” Big Jake set his jaw. “It’s none of your business what I heard or didn’t hear.” “It might not be mine.” Dominic shrugs. “But it is hers. And I’m sure the police will also consider it their business.” Big Jake looks at me with rage burning in his eyes. “I’m sure she won’t be going to the cops. She likes her job too much.” “You’re just as dumb as you are big, aren’t you?” Dominic helps me to stand. “So not only did you allow her to be assaulted in your bar because you liked the idea of the publicity, but now you’re threatening her employment if she goes to the authorities? You just keep on making these great decisions, don’t you?” The look on Big Jake’s face says that Dominic hit the nail on the head. He knew what was going on out here and let it happen because the cameras were rolling. Asshole. “Dakota and I are leaving. She might be gone for a while. But if she comes back, she will have a job. Understood?” Dominic levels a finger at Big Jake and I swear if looks could kill, both of them would drop dead. Big Jake nods and Dominic leads me out of the bar, his hand on my lower back, fingers splayed wide. Strong, firm, and in control.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WE STUMBLE INTO THE PARKING LOT AND I’M AN ABSOLUTE MESS. MY INSIDES ARE ALL QUIVERY AND I’M fighting back a wave of near insane laughter. “I can’t believe you talked to Big Jake like that,” I say. “After you pulled some guy off me and backed him down with nothing more than your voice.” “My arm around his neck probably had something to do with it, too.” “Yeah, but…” I pull him close to me. “I’ve never felt so safe.” Dominic wraps his arms around me and puts his forehead to mine. “As long as I’m around, no one’s gonna bother you, sweet stuff.” Yeah. But how long are you going to be around? Of course, I don’t say that out loud. I haven’t brought up the fact that he’s leaving yet so why start now? Knowing isn’t going to change the inevitability of it all. I think I’d rather live blissfully oblivious. Dominic kisses the very tip of my nose and for whatever reason, that turns me on more than anything that’s ever been done to me in all of my life. I arch my back a little, press my breasts into him. Reach down between us and grab his crotch, smiling when I find that he’s hard. “Come home with me?” I ask in my best sultry voice. “Kiss me and make it all better?” Dominic presses his hips forward, the tiniest of thrusts into my hands. “I’ll do more than kiss you.” And then he leans down and whispers the dirtiest of things to me. I flush, heat rushing to both my cheeks and to my panties. “And that’s just to get started, sweet stuff.” We decide to take my car and leave his rental in the parking lot. I slide into the

driver’s seat, and buckle up, pressing my thighs together against the ache between them. Lust is mixing with fear and adrenaline and I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet without someone actually touching me. “Spread your legs,” says Dominic as I pull out of the lot and onto the road. I don’t think, I just do what he tells me, my body acting before my brain has a chance to chime in. Dominic slides his hand up my thigh, caressing the skin just below the hem of my skirt. I rock my hips forward and open my knees even further, inviting him to move higher. “I love it when you touch me.” “Do you? Good. Because I love touching you.” He slides his hand up further, tracing the edge of my panties. “And I love making you feel good.” “Then don’t stop.” What I wanted to say was that he makes me feel better than anyone I’ve ever met, but that seems a little intense for a guy I’ve only known a week and who will be leaving any day now. Dominic takes me at my word and slides his fingers past my panties, dips a finger between my slick folds. “You get so wet for me, Dakota.” “Only for you.” That might have been too much information, but it’s out there now. “I’ve never gotten this wet before.” Never ever. In fact, I’ve gotten in the habit of going down on a guy before sex, leaving him all wet so he can slide into me and never know that I’m not. “You mean this is just for me?” He dips a finger inside me as I flip on my turn signal. This is hard, concentrating on the road while he’s doing what he’s doing to me. “All for you.” I lean my head back against my seat and sigh. Dominic pulls his hand back and leaves it resting on my thigh. “Then get us home. Now. So I can take what’s mine.” I drive the rest of the way home, chest heaving, aware of the wet mark on my thigh from his finger. We get into my apartment in a flurry of energy, his hands on my body, my eyes on his. I barely get the door shut before Dominic slides his hands under my ass and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and clutch at his strong back, marveling as he takes the stairs without even grunting under my weight. He puts me down in my bedroom and I feel naked the moment he lets go of me. I need his arms around me. I need his heat. I need him to fill me and make me feel whole. To cover my body with his and make me feel safe. To look at me like I’m the only woman in the entire world. He lifts my shirt over my head and his mouth falls open. I look down and find a long scrape extending down my ribcage and disappearing into my skirt, red and angry, already starting to bruise. Dominic trails his fingers down it, a scowl darkening his eyes. “I’m okay,” I say. “No. You’re not.” He tugs at my skirt, dropping it to the floor so I’m standing in front of him in my bra and panties. The mark extends down to my hipbone where a purple bruise has blossomed. Dominic runs a finger down the edge of the mark.

“That asshole hurt you.” “But you saved me.” I capture his eyes with mine. “I’m okay because of you.” “But what if I hadn’t been there?” There’s something behind his question. Something I’m afraid to put my finger on because what I think he’s saying is that he’s leaving soon and won’t be there next time. “But you were.” I say. “And you’re here now. And I’m safe. And I’m with you. And I need you to take me right now because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” Dominic’s eyes hit mine, dark and hungry, hooded with lust. “Take care of me, Dominic.” He lifts me up, gently this time and puts me down on my bed. Pulls off my panties and drops them onto the floor before kissing his way back up my legs. I lift my head from the pillow and spread my thighs. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been down there like that and seeing him smile up at me makes me combust. He drags his tongue up my slit and I drop my head with a groan. When he adds his fingers, first one, then two working inside me in a rhythm I can’t resist, my hips start to rock, my back arching, my chest heaving. I bring my hands to my chest, squeezing my breasts and rolling my nipples through the fabric of my bra. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his fingers still moving inside me. He sucks on my clit, licks it, and then sucks on it again and I can’t find it in me to answer him. I think I’ve lost the ability to make words that make sense. I writhe with my growing orgasm, the sounds I try to form into words escaping my lips in hitching gasps. “Lose control. Give it to me. Trust me to take care of you the way you deserve.” Dominic speaks in between licking and sucking, all the while his fingers working inside me and my inner muscles begin to clench. “That’s it, Dakota. Give in.” And I do. The power of hearing my name in his voice sending me over the edge. I come loudly. Screaming his name. Turning my head and biting my shoulder and screaming some more. As my orgasm subsides, Dominic sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Pulls his shirt over his head and slides out of his pants. I want him inside me. I want it now. I need him to fill me up the way only he has ever been able to do. Hit that spot that only he has ever been able to find. I ache for him. Instead, he kneels on the bed near the pillows, stroking his thick cock. “Suck me off. Let me feel that pretty mouth.” Good God, he doesn’t have to tell me twice. I sit up and take him between my lips, swirling my tongue around his tip. He drops his head back and groans when I take him all the way to the back of my throat. Stares down at me when I pull back and alternate between sucking and licking him with just the lightest of touches, teasing him. He groans. “Take it, Dakota. All the way.” I open my mouth and he slides himself in while I tighten my lips around him. His hand goes to my hair and he rocks his hips and holy shit do I ever love the way

it feels. He pulls away and I drop back on the bed, panting. Arms over head, hair flung out around me. Dominic smiles down at me. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says as he climbs off the bed and pulls a condom out of his pants. “I could say the same thing about you.” I can’t take my eyes off his dick. “You just like my magic penis.” He strokes himself and I bite my lip. “You do have a magic penis. Does things to me I never knew were even possible.” Dominic rolls on the condom. “I’m going to do those things to you now.” “Dominic?” “Yeah?” “Stop talking and come fuck me.” “Are you feeling tough now? You get in one bar fight and suddenly you’re tough as nails?” Dominic crawls onto the bed, kissing his way up my body. He hovers near my face, supporting himself with his arms. Kisses me and I taste myself while he slides inside. “Is this what you want?” He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and gives his hips a firm thrust. I whimper and manage to make an affirmative sound. Dominic thrusts into me again. “I can’t hear you.” He rolls his hips. “Speak up.” “Can’t talk,” I manage. “Magic penis.” Dominic begins to move in earnest, hitting that spot, that wonderful spot that takes me to places I’ve never been before. “Is this what you want, Dakota?” He pushes into me again and again and I moan, barely able to process his question. “Answer me.” He picks up speed. “Is this what you want?” “Yes,” I blurt out as an orgasm overtakes me. “God yes!” My breath hitches. “I want you! Fuck! I want you!” I grip his arms and dig in with my fingers as I lose all ability to communicate. Dominic moves faster, his hips rolling, his cock sliding in and out of me, pushing me further and further over the edge until I’m screaming his name. I bite my pillow to help keep myself quiet and let myself ride the waves of ecstasy until Dominic shudders and comes with long groan.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I COLLAPSE ON THE BED NEXT TO DAKOTA AND PULL HER IN CLOSE. SHE WRAPS AN ARM AROUND ME AND lays her head on my chest. When I walked into The Bad Apple tonight and saw her struggling with that asshole my stomach dropped and my heart stopped and I had that guy in my hands before I even knew what was going on. And when her boss came lumbering up to us, giving her a hard time about sitting with me, I felt an echo of that same urge to keep her safe. I was threatening the man before I even had a chance to think about how big he is. But when I took her shirt off and saw that long scrape marring her perfect body, welting up and threatening to bruise in ways that would make a boxer cringe, I lost myself to the desire to protect her. I know now that I can’t leave her here. I can’t go off to Vegas with her here and people trying to take advantage of her like that all because of the video I posted of us at the bar. She hasn’t asked me when I’m leaving, but I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t care. I think it’s because she cares too much. It’s such a shame that we had to meet like this, with her here and me everywhere else. It would almost be better if we had never met, so she could keep living her life and I could keep living mine and no one would have to worry about being hurt when I leave. Because I have to leave. I don’t have a choice. “What are you thinking about?” she asks, propping herself up on an elbow so she can see my face. I take a long breath. “Leaving.” Pain shoots through her face and I hate myself a little. “I have to leave soon.” Dakota sighs and drops down onto the bed. Stares up at the ceiling. “I know.”

I don’t know what to say to make this any easier. Don’t know why I had to bring it up now. Couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut and let us enjoy laying here together a little longer? “I don’t want to. I need you to know that. It’s the first time since I started traveling that I actually wanted to stay where I was a little longer.” “A little longer.” She sighs again. “That’s all I was ever going to get with you. I knew it. I just kept thinking if I didn’t bring it up, I might get just a little more time. That the day you had to leave would keep on not coming.” We lay like that for a while, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Both of us lost in our thoughts, separated by the truth of our reality. I hate it. I really do. And then a thought sneaks into my head. A crazy thought. One that’s totally off the wall. Ridiculous. I prop myself up and look at her. “Come with me.” Her eyes go wide and she looks at me in shock. “What?” “I’m going to Arizona. First the Grand Canyon, then Vegas. Come with me.” My heart is beating faster and I can’t stop smiling at the thought of having Dakota by my side for a little longer. “I can’t just leave,” she says, although the look on her face is begging me to tell her otherwise. “I’ll get fired.” “No, you won’t.” I sit all the way up, too excited to stay still. “We pretty much told your boss you wouldn’t be in for a while and that if he got any crazy ideas to fire you that we’d go to the police about the assault.” “Yeah,” Dakota says, pulling herself up to a sitting position, not bothering to clutch the bed sheet to her chest. “But he’s not going to take that seriously.” “I bet he will. That kind of bad publicity? He’s not looking for that. I promise you.” “But my apartment? What about it?” “I’m not asking you to travel the world with me.” Yet, I add in my head. “You’ll be gone a week or two and then come back. It’s a vacation.” I shrug. “Everyone takes vacations.” She’s nodding now and I can tell she’s all about this idea. “Everyone takes vacations. And I’ve always wanted to go out west. Well, hell. I’ve always wanted to go everywhere. See everything.” Her smile lights up her eyes and I love it. “Are you serious? You want me to come with you?” “Serious as I’ve ever been. But listen. We’d be staying in a resort in Vegas, but I don’t have a hotel for the Grand Canyon. I’m just going to camp at the campgrounds. Are you up for that?” “You want me to fly to Arizona with you, where you have no place to stay? Just pitch a tent somewhere and call it good?” “Yep. That’s just the way I live. What better way to experience life than to just get down and dirty and in it, you know?” She nods. “Yeah. I think I do know.” “So you’ll come?” Holy shit, this is so fucking crazy. “Yeah,” she says tentatively and then takes a breath and unleashes that

beautiful smile. “Yes. I will totally fly across the country with you on a moment’s notice without a guaranteed place to stay.” She laughs. “Is it crazy that I’m so excited about this?” “Maybe a little.” I kiss her. “But I’m excited too.” “Good. Then we can be crazy together.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“BUT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU MAKING POSITIVE DECISIONS ABOUT MEN?” CHELSEA IS PERCHED ON THE edge of my bed, an untouched glass of wine in her hand. I grab another handful of panties out of my drawer and put them in my suitcase. “This is a positive decision about men.” “No. This is impulsive. It’s rash. It’s…” Chelsea shakes her head and looks to Maya for help. “It’s crazy. That’s what it is.” I beam. I can’t help it. “You’re right. It’s totally crazy. And that’s why it’s a good decision.” I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. Dominic said we’ll be at the Grand Canyon for a day or two and then Vegas for a few days. That’s about as specific as he got. Since we we’ll be camping when we first get to Arizona, I’m packing small. The less bags the better, right? Chelsea finally takes a drink of her wine and boy, is it a long one. “I think you’re making a terrible decision. What about your job? What if this guy is a weirdo? You’ve only known him for what? A week?” She looks at me and I see the tension knitting her eyebrows together. “I’m worried about you, Ko.” Oh, hell. She’s pulling out childhood nicknames and everything. I sit down next to her on the bed and lean my head on her shoulder. “I get it. But you don’t have to worry. Even if he turns out to be a total weirdo, I’ll be okay.” “But how?” Chelsea looks forlorn. She’s taking this way worse than I thought she would. “Because Dakota can take care of herself,” says Maya from her place in my favorite chair in the whole world. “If things go wrong, she’ll come home.” I nod my head emphatically. “Bingo.”

“But—” Chelsea’s still shaking her head and I’m afraid we’re just going to have to end up agreeing to disagree. I get up and kneel on the floor in front of her, put my hands on her knees. “Your perfect life isn’t my perfect life. I know you want to find a great guy who is stable. You’ll date for a while and then after the perfect socially acceptable amount of time, he’ll get down on one knee and propose. You’ll move into your house in the suburbs. Raise a few kids who color inside the lines and play varsity and get scholarships to the college of their choice. The whole American Dream wrapped up in a white picket fence. But that’s not me.” “It’s really not,” Maya chimes in and tucks her legs up underneath her. “When has Dakota ever colored inside the lines?” Chelsea laughs. “Never.” She turns to me. “You aren’t a color inside the lines kind of girl.” “I’m really not. And if I’m honest? That life I described makes me feel like I might curl up and die.” Chelsea scrunches up her face. “Really? How?” “Oh come on, Chels.” Maya unfolds herself from my chair and goes to my closet, picking through the stuff hanging there. “Can you really see our little sister enjoying any of that?” “No. But that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try.” I stand up and plant a kiss on Chelsea’s cheek. She’s pouting right now, but by the time we get through the night, I think she’s going to understand. Especially because it looks like I’ve got Maya on my side. For our entire lives, this is how things have worked. Me on one end, Chelsea on the other, and Maya in the middle. Whichever of us has Maya on our side wins. Maya helps me pack, plucking a wide range of outfits out of my closet and drawers and helping me narrow them down. While Chelsea pouts, we choose jeans and shorts. Tank tops and jackets. All kinds of good mix and match outfits that will be perfect for hiking in the Grand Canyon. I start to fold things up, like any good packer will do and Maya shoos me off. “Watch this,” she says and stacks my t-shirts together and rolls them up into one tight little cotton cylinder. “It’s called a ranger roll. Takes up a lot less space so you have room for options.” “Yeah.” Chelsea pivots on the bed, her face lighting up. “Like better shoes.” “But I’ve got good shoes,” I say, pointing to the sensible ones I wore the day Dominic and I went hiking. “And you’re telling me you’re going to wear those things while you’re holed up in one of the hottest new resorts in Vegas?” She makes a face at my sensible shoes. “And nothing but jeans and t-shirts? You’re going to Vegas! You need at least one decent set of shoes and several dresses.” Chelsea springs from her place on my bed and pulls a few of my favorite dresses off the hangers. Digs through my shoes and finds a pair that will match them all. Grabs my curling iron and a few essential bits and throws them in. By the time we’re done, the bag closes. Kind of. It’s heavy as

all hell, but I think I can manage it. We head downstairs and I pour everyone drinks and turn on some music. I’m in the mood to celebrate; I’m so excited about finally getting to leave Townsbury. And you know the best way to celebrate anything? By getting my sisters drunk. “Are you in love with this guy?” asks Maya as she begins on her second lemon drop martini. “Me? In love with Dominic?” I take a drink of my own and shake my head. “God no. As Chelsea so kindly pointed out, I’ve only known him a week.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure I believe it. And even as I’m not sure I believe it, I’m not sure about that. Because who falls in love in a week? With a complete stranger nonetheless? I don’t know anything about Dominic other than we have a lot of fun together. “Well at least you’ve got your head on a little straight.” Chelsea smiles at me over her martini and I know for sure I’ve totally won her over. “But do tell. What is it about this guy that makes you want to just pick up and leave with him?” “Have you seen him?” asks Maya. “There is that.” Chelsea flares her hands. “The guy is definitely easy on the eyes.” I list all the things about Dominic I love so much. His sense of adventure. The way he sees the world just a little differently. His sense of humor. The sex, dear God the sex. “It can’t be that good.” Maya crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. “I mean, sex is sex, right?” “That’s what I thought. But not all sex is alike, dear sister. Some sex is lifechanging. Mind-blowing. Eyes rolling back in your head and toes clenching.” I shiver a little. “He has a magic penis.” Chelsea chokes on her martini. “Dakota!” “What? He really does!” We laugh and it feels good. Sitting in my living room, shocking my sisters. We’ve done this, or at least a version of this, for my whole life. Whenever something good happens, we get together. Whenever something bad happens, we get together. They are my rock and I am theirs. “Okay, so this guy is adventurous and funny. Sees the world differently.” Maya holds up fingers counting off the traits I listed. “That doesn’t sound like enough to get me interested in wanting to travel across the country with the guy. It must be the magic penis that has you under its spell.” We giggle like school girls and I am so grateful for my sisters. “The magic penis is a definite plus. But there’s more to it than that. I feel connected to Dominic. Comfortable, but excited all at the same time. I’ve told him more about me than I’ve told anyone and he doesn’t roll his eyes at the stuff I try to hide.” I polish off my martini and pour another. I’m edging past tipsy and am well on my way to drunk at this point. A thought strikes me and I sit forward. “You know how you said that picture he

took of me captured everything there was to know about me?” I ask, pointing at Maya. “Yeah. It’s a great picture.” She purses her lips together as she nods. “What picture?” Chelsea sits forward. “I want to see.” Ignoring Chelsea, I continue on with my thought before I lose it to the haze of lemon drop martini. “Being with Dominic is like that. All the time. Like he’s seeing all there is to see about me. Drawing the parts of me that make me who I am out to the surface. All the crazy, outside the lines stuff? He sees it and he likes it and he encourages it and I feel like the best version of myself around him.” Maya puts her hand to her heart. Her lips part. “Are you sure you’re not in love with him?” No. I’m not sure at all. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, trying to hide the surprise I feel at the first thought that entered my head. “Totally.” Chelsea is looking from my face to Maya’s and back again. Mouth open. Hands flared. “What picture?” Laughing, I pull out my phone and open up Dominic’s profile on Instagram. I scroll past a million new pictures—a lot of them of me—until I find the one I showed Maya a few days ago and hand the phone to Chelsea. She scrunches up her eyes as she studies it. Holds the phone close. “Damn,” she says, an odd look settling into her pursed eyebrows. “Maya’s right. This picture is you.” “Can’t sneak anything past you. That picture is definitely me. So glad to know my sister can recognize me.” I smile at Chelsea who is definitely struggling through her own lemon flavored haze. “That’s not what I mean, smartass.” She points a finger at me and gives me her patented Big Sister Glare. “It’s like Maya says. Everything that makes you who you are is in this picture.” She starts to scroll through the rest of the pictures, that same odd look settling back onto her face. “Can I just say, now that I’m drunk enough not to worry about the ‘rightness’ of your decision, that I’m really fucking excited for you?” Maya hits me with a huge grin. “I mean, who doesn’t want to drop everything and go on an impromptu vacation with a hot guy?” “I’m not complaining. The only real reason I have not to go is work, and that’s not even a worry.” I glance at Chelsea who is still studying my phone. “I thought you loved working at The Bad Apple,” says Maya. “Are you ready to move on?” “Nope. The Bad Apple is still a great place to work. But Dominic made sure I’m not at risk of losing my job by taking a few unexpected days off.” I smile and explain what happened with Jeremy and The Fish. How Dominic came in and saved me from the asshole with his hands on me and then saved me again when Big Jake came over to make me feel bad about sitting down. I’ve got Chelsea’s attention now. “So not only does this guy see you and understand you, makes you happy and satisfies your sexual needs, but he also protects you when you’re in trouble?”

I nod. “Yep, that sounds about right.” “Have you seen these pictures?” She waves the phone at me and Maya. I shake my head. “Not really. I mean, I saw them as I scrolled through to find the one I showed you, but I haven’t looked at them yet.” Chelsea comes over to stand next to me. Gestures for Maya to do the same. She scrolls through picture after picture of me, each one somehow more personal than the last. I feel like I’m looking inside myself. Like somehow, the existential question of who I am is answered on the screen. I’ve said it before, but I don’t take good pictures. My smile is always too wide, or my eyes too crazy, or my head is thrown back as I laugh too loud. But these pictures are good. Dominic caught the little blips of beauty behind my big moments. The quiet look in my eyes as I study the water. A simple smile that lights up my face. The way I bite my lip and blush when I’m thinking about him. Chelsea is watching me now. “I take back all I said. If this guy makes you feel like this.” She gestures towards the pictures. “And he’s the kind of guy who steps in when you’re in trouble. And he’s finally going to get you out of Townsbury and let you see the world … well hell, Dakota. I’d be a fool to think he’s anything but perfect for you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON AN AIRPLANE BEFORE?” DOMINIC IS EYEING ME LIKE HE DOESN’T QUITE KNOW what to make of me. Normally, I would be a little offended by the whole kinda sorta judgemental thing he has going on—after all, Chelsea totally has a patent on that! But, given the fact that I’m bouncing from foot to foot and keep looking around the airport like an over-caffeinated child and it’s barely four thirty in the morning, I guess I can understand. “No.” I look over Dominic’s shoulder, my attention pulled by a large family carrying too many bags, the father barking orders at his youngest like some kind of drill sergeant for ducklings. “I’ve always wanted to, but the furthest I’ve ever been from Townsbury is a little place called Farmington a few miles from here.” Dominic’s face clouds over. His eyes narrow, almost as if he’s in pain. “What brought you there?” He speaks to me from a thousand miles away, his mind clearly on something else. “I went with a friend when I was in high school. They used to have a carnival there, but I think it’s closed down now.” I shrug, wondering what in the world has his jaw pulsing like that. Dominic kind of looks through me. “Did you have fun?” “It wasn’t the safest place ever. As adventuresome as I am, that carnival pushed the limits of what I was comfortable with, that’s for sure.” Dominic opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then just lets it hang open for a few seconds before closing it again. Maybe I’ve been too unfocused and have offended him. I need to reign in my enthusiasm and make sure I’m giving him the attention he deserves. Maybe I misunderstood his question. I replay what he

said in my mind and there’s really no reason why he should be upset right now. I start to ask him what’s wrong when they call us for boarding. Dominic smiles, all traces of darkness and irritation wiped from his face. “Are you ready for this?” “Hell yeah I’m ready!” I sling my purse over my shoulder and bite my lip. I’ll ask him about whatever was bothering him once we’re on the plane. After all, we’ll have about eight hours and two lay overs to kill. We head down the jet bridge and my nerves are just jingle-jangling with excitement. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Hopping onto a plane with a near stranger to spend a week with him. Who does things like this? Crazy people, that’s who. But maybe I need a little crazy in my life right now. We stow our carry ons and Dominic makes sure I get a window seat. Which, while super cool of him, I probably would have fought him for it if he hadn’t. The take-off is just as exciting as I thought it would be. Dominic takes my hand and we grin at each other as the plane gains speed and as we angle upwards, I do my best not to shriek like a child and embarrass us both. “Why are you looking at me, silly girl?” Dominic squeezes my hand and then lets go. “The window has a much better view.” “I doubt that,” I say, but I tear my focus away from him anyway. The view is pretty fan-fucking-tastic, although I bet it will be even better once the sun has risen. Right now, it’s just streams of lights, glittering below me. What will it look like when the sun clears the horizon? As the plane levels off, I look back over to Dominic. He’s watching me, his eyes alight with pleasure. “What?” I ask, self-conscious. “You.” “What about me?” “All kinds of things.” “Like what?” I run my hand from his knee up his thigh. “I need specifics here, Kane.” “Well, for one, I’m surprised you decided to come with me.” “You and me both, buddy.” I shrug as he laughs. “Believe me, my sisters weren’t exactly supportive at first. They almost talked me out of it.” Dominic frowns. “Really?” “No, not really. At least not the part about almost getting talked out of coming. But I did have to talk them into why this was a good idea for me.” Dominic’s frown deepens. “How so?” Damn it. This is the second time this morning that I’ve upset him somehow. “Maybe I made it sound worse than it is. Chelsea and Maya are very practical. They are planners and doers of things the right way.” I make air quotes around those last two words. “Taking off across the country with a man I barely know, spending money on expensive plane tickets, and landing without a place to stay that includes walls and a roof isn’t exactly their idea of a sensible decision.” “I don’t think it’s anyone’s idea of a sensible decision.” Dominic is all flirty

smiles again. What is with him today? Is he regretting having me along? It’s not like I can do anything about it right now, seeing as how I’m strapped into a plane next to him. “And maybe, for most people, it’s not. But I think it is for me.” I shrug and keep running my hand along his thigh. “I think I was drowning, staying in one place like that. I don’t think I’m meant to be that still. That ordinary. I think the most sensible thing I could have done for myself is take you up on the adventure you offered me.” I watch his face closely, looking for any more flashes of whatever it is I think I’m seeing. There’s nothing but that look I love so much, the one that makes me feel understood. The one that I’ve never gotten from anyone else. “You and I are the same, I think. Cut from the same cloth.” Damn that makes me feel almost giddy. “I think so, too.” I run my hand up his thigh and lean close to him, pulled in by the gravity in his eyes. “Dakota?” “Yeah?” “You’re killin’ me here.” He looks down at my hand, so close to the very visible bulge in his pants. I think the appropriate reaction is to remove my hand and apologize, but I’m not exactly appropriate. Instead, I slide my hand up even higher and give him a little squeeze. Dominic thrusts his hips forward, pushing his dick against my hand. That little movement, involuntary or not, sets me on fire. Suddenly I’m wet and can’t think of anything other than getting him inside me. “This flight is too long,” I whisper and hope he can read between the lines. Dominic looks at my hand, then cranes his neck to look around the plane. “A lot of people are sleeping. Meet me in the bathroom.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He doesn’t ask if it’s okay. He just stands up and disappears down the aisle without missing a beat. I stare after him. Watch his dark head as it bobs away towards the bathroom and sit, frozen in my seat while I wonder if I have it in me to follow him. Sex in a public place? A bathroom? On a plane? Is that really something I want to do? The ache between my legs confirms that it’s definitely something my body wants to do. But what if we get caught? Isn’t it illegal? And what about the germs? Isn’t it totally gross in there? Part of me is sure that Dominic will know how to handle it and the other part of me hopes he doesn’t have the necessary experience to know how to handle it. I stand without thinking. Walk down the aisle and count sleeping people. Almost everyone has their eyes closed and those that don’t have earbuds in and are glassy eyed and seem mostly asleep anyway. That means all I really have to worry about is the flight attendants. In a moment of inspiration, I grab an airsick bag out of one of the seats and put on a worried face as I near the bathroom door. One knock. Just one. Maybe no one will hear. Dominic opens the door and I maneuver into the cramped space before he closes

us in and slides the lock home. I pivot, a question on my lips silenced when Dominic presses his mouth to mine. There’s heat and urgency in his kiss and I forget all my trepidation in the face of his passion. He puts his hands on my shoulders and spins me around. “Put your hands on the ceiling,” he says. “Not the door.” I do as I’m told and he unbuttons my shorts, slides them down to my knees. I hear his zipper and the crinkle of a little foil packet as he pulls out a condom. There’s no grace or foreplay, he presses against my opening and after pushing into me a few times, fucks me hard and fast. It doesn’t matter, I’m so wet and he feels so good, an orgasm comes ripping towards me the moment he begins to move. He’s got a hand on my clit, rubbing hard, so hard it almost hurts as he thrusts into me again and again, but that zing of pain mixes with pleasure and before I know it I’m biting my lips and holding my breath so I don’t moan. “It’s gotta be fast,” he whispers, his voice gruff. “Come now.” He changes the rhythm of his hand and I explode around him. My knees go weak and my breath hitches and I swear I’m about to lose control of my voice and start screaming. He wraps his body around mine, his chest pressing against my back, his knees pressing into the back of my thighs and it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin. He slams into me, quickening his pace and I can tell he’s close to his own orgasm. It’s when he bites my shoulder, nothing hard, nothing that will leave a mark, but another sensation to blend with all the others I’m having that I lose all control and moan. He clamps a hand to my face, the hand that was doing delicious things to my clit just moments before and I can smell myself. One orgasm rolls into another and then Dominic shudders into me, adding his own to the list. There’s a knock at the door and my heart stops. “Miss?” Dominic pulls out of me and pulls off the condom while I pull up my pants. “Are you okay in there?” Fuck, that sounds very flight attendant-like. I look at Dominic with my eyes wide, pointing to the airsickness bag I brought with me. “I’m feeling better, thank you,” I say, not even having to fake sounding sick and unsettled, the nerves and mind-blowing sex is doing the job for me. “Is someone in there with you?” asks the flight attendant, sounding very nosy, bossy, and ready to flex her authoritative fingers. “My boyfriend,” I say and give Dominic a look that I hope says I know you’re not my boyfriend, just roll with me here. “Dakota wasn’t feeling well so I came in here with her to make sure she’s okay.” Dominic grabs the airsickness bag and checks his pants, flushes the condom, and then opens the door to the bathroom, smiling sheepishly at a woman with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed, totally prepared to be The Bitch. “Is that okay? I didn’t think it was against the rules.” And damn if he doesn’t flash her with that magnificent smile of his and I watch The Bitch slide right off her face and get replaced with something way more melty and girly. I do my best to look queasy, which isn’t all that hard given the circumstances. “Are you sure you’re feeling better, babes?” Dominic asks me as he wraps an

arm around me and looks at me with the most concerned face ever. Of course, wouldn’t you know it, there’s a huge laughter bubble about to burst inside me and I’m not going to be able to keep a straight face much longer. I nod and smile. “Yeah. I think I’m gonna make it.” I grimace at the flight attendant who very clearly doesn’t like me. “Sorry,” I say and swallow hard against the urge to giggle. Somehow we make it back to our seats without losing it completely and I collapse into my chair and lean my head against the window which immediately fogs up. I wipe a hand across my forehead which actually has a thin layer of sweat on it. Given my weak legs, my flushed cheeks, and my sweaty face, I probably did a better job of selling the whole I was sick thing than I thought. I giggle and turn my head to Dominic. “That was quick thinking on the airsick thing.” “Just a random thought on the way to the bathroom,” I say. “How’d you know to keep my hands on the ceiling and not the door?” I ask, even though I’m not really sure I want to hear the answer to that question. I do this all the time is really going to detract from my enjoyment of this situation. Dominic looks sheepish and I brace myself for the answer. “I may have Googled some things before we left.” “What?” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Really?” “Hell yeah. Stuck on a plane next to a smokin’ hot girl like you for eight or nine hours and there was no way I wasn’t going to end up wanting to fuck you.” He’s whispering thank goodness, but I blush nonetheless. “Dominic!” I put a finger to my lips and look to see if anyone heard. No one did, of course. The whole plane is still asleep. “It’s true.” Dominic leans his head back against the headrest and sighs. “I just didn’t think it would happen so fast.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DOMINIC HAD MOST OF HIS LUGGAGE SHIPPED RIGHT TO THE RESORT IN VEGAS SO HE ONLY HAS ONE massive backpack and his camera gear with him right now. It doesn’t take him long to find it when we land, given how distinctive it is. While I wait to find mine on the luggage carousel, he walks several feet away and makes a few phone calls. There’s this feeling of panic strumming along inside me as it takes longer and longer to find my bag. I’m impatient and keyed up, all hopped up on adventure and the reality of the fact that I just landed in Arizona. But finally it comes trundling along. No need to worry after all. I grab it just as Dominic comes back to stand at my side. “Well,” he says and makes a strange face. “Are you sure you want to head to the North Rim? I could call around and see if there’s a hotel available. You know, something with a ceiling.” I don’t even hesitate. “Let’s camp.” I’m way more excited about this than I should be. “Have you ever been camping before?” I shake my head. “That’s why I want to do it. This is all about experience. Adventure. Going a little crazy. Where’s the crazy in renting a hotel room other than the fact that I really shouldn’t be spending any more money?” “I fully planned on camping. I just don’t want to force you into it.” Dominic adjusts his backpack and this giddy feeling washes over me. “Bring on the experience, baby. First the Mile High Club, now camping out in the wilderness.” Dominic leads me out of the airport with that one hand placed firmly on my lower back. “I wouldn’t call this the wilderness, sweet stuff. It’s a campground.

There will be people around.” “Hey. Are we sleeping outside?” “Well, we’ll be in a tent so that’s technically not quite outside.” I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Are there walls? Is there indoor plumbing? A front door?” “There’s definitely a door. It zips—” I slap Dominic in the arm and he laughs. “This is as wilderness as I’ve ever been before, smart ass,” I say. “So how about you just let me be excited, okay?” We step out of the airport into a heat I thought I was prepared for but clearly wasn’t. I don’t think there’s any way to prepare someone for the kind of hot that is Arizona in August. Dominic hails a cab and we speed off, my eyes glued to the landscape on the other side of the window. It might as well be a different world out there, all red and brown and flat instead of green and hilly. “It’s amazing.” I turn to Dominic. “Have you been here before?” “A couple times. I never get tired of shooting the canyon.” “I must look like a complete child to you. Or a country bumpkin. All wide eyed and excited about getting out into the world.” I make a face. “Not at all. You’re adorable. I love it. I want to take you with me everywhere. Share this planet and all its experiences with you.” Part of me is afraid he’s serious and the other half is afraid he’s joking. I want that. I want that so much and it shouldn’t really be a surprise because I’ve always wanted to travel. The surprise comes in the shape of how much I want that with him. When I think about seeing the world now, Dominic is definitely there and he sure didn’t use to be. Not even just a few days ago. And you know what? We haven’t known each other long enough for my bucket list to include him in any way shape or form. And if he’s feeling it, too? If he really means what he just said, well, at least we’re in the same boat, but maybe, just maybe I should take a page out of my sisters’ Great Big Book of Advice and get to know the guy a little better. Right now we’re operating on lust alone and while that is certainly quite decadent, it’s time to start understanding all the things that make Dominic Kane tick. The cabbie deposits us at the campground and I immediately understand why Dominic wasn’t really ready to call this part of our adventure the wilderness. Yes, we’ll be sleeping in a tent, but we’re surrounded by other people in their own tents and RV’s. I try not to look disappointed, but I kind of am. I had this image of us completely roughing it, sleeping out under the stars, the only people for miles. “I tried to warn you,” says Dominic, leading me through the crowded site with that strong hand on my back again. “Am I that obvious?” “You just scowled at that kid so hard he ran back to find his mom.” Dominic’s laughing, but there’s definitely a kid cowering behind his mother. I take a deep breath and bring out the smile. I mean, come on! I’m in Arizona. Camping. With Dominic Kane. This is the first step in living the kind of life I’ve always wanted. Am

I really so shallow that I’m going to pout because there are people here? I think not. We find out which campsite we’ve been assigned and make the trek back through the crowded campgrounds. Trying to avoid wearing my Accidental Grumpy Face again, I keep counting the positives and realize just how many there are. Even though there are lots of people here, the campgrounds do manage to feel really spacious. And even though we’re not the only souls for miles, we are wandering through tall trees and I keep getting glimpses of the canyon itself, which is stunning even from here. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s going to look like when we get right up on it. Which, apparently, is going to happen sooner rather than later because our campsite is pretty much right on the rim. We have an unobstructed view of the canyon. I drop my bag and stare. Mouth open. Arms slack at my sides. This sense of immensity rushes through me, like I’m on the verge of realizing something so powerful and important and in the face of such vastness I feel so small. I hear the rustling of Dominic’s pack as he slides it off his shoulders. The wind in the trees. The light sound of conversation a few campsites over. Dominic slides an arm around me and pulls me close. I don’t want him to talk. I just want to keep feeling vast and small in the same instant. He kisses the side of my head, then leans into me and we stand there for I don’t know how long until I finally break the silence between us. “Holy shit. I have no words.” “That’s why I take pictures.” Dominic kisses me and I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his scent, loving the way it mixes with the pine and the fresh air and the faintest trace of hot dogs being cooked on a fire. “I wish I had my camera out when you first saw it. You’ve never looked so beautiful.” “I’ve never felt so inconsequential…” I pause and struggle for words. “But at the same time, it makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself.” I wave my hands dismissively. “Pay no attention to me. The jet lag has me all goofy.” “You’re not being goofy. I know that feeling. It’s a massive one.” We work together to get the campsite set up. It doesn’t take long and it feels good to be busy after so many hours sitting on the plane. I know I should be feeling my early morning, but I must be running on pure adrenaline right now because I’m not even close to tired. “So now what?” I ask, not sure which view is more spectacular, the view of the canyon, or the view of Dominic being all rustic, setting up camp. “Do you want to go for a hike? Take some pictures?” He smiles at me and takes my hand. “Tomorrow. We’ll do all that tomorrow. The best light is at dawn, which is one way that having our internal clocks set to Eastern time is going to help us. We’ll be up in time to see it without really having to set an alarm. Right now? I say we go grab some stuff for dinner at the general store and then set up camp and enjoy the view.” In all honesty, a pre-dawn wakeup call sounds tragic right about now, as does grocery shopping and then being forced to sit still, but I don’t tell him that. I just go

right along with his plan. He is, after all, the one with all the experience. We settle on hot dogs and I’m honestly fine with that. Dominic does some more of that sexy macho stuff and gets us a fire started. I chose a seat that allows me to see both him and the view of the Canyon without having to turn my head and I might as well be in heaven. What is it about watching him pitch a tent and start a fire that has me so hot? Is it just him? I mean, this is the guy that had me bent over in an airplane bathroom earlier today… Wow. Was that today? It feels like a lifetime ago. I’m in the process of deciding if it’s just Dominic that’s hot or if he gets bonus points for being able to do manly stuff around the campsite when he brings me a plate filled with a hot dog, some coleslaw, and potato chips and then hands me a beer. My stomach gurgles in appreciation and I find myself stifling a yawn. “Still want to go on that hike?” Dominic sits beside me and starts in on his hot dog like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Nope. I’m fine to sit here and relax. You were right, oh wise wanderer.” “I could get used to hearing that.” “Hearing what?” I crack open my beer and take a long drink. “Be careful with that,” Dominic says, gesturing towards my beer, not at all answering my question. I pull the bottle from my mouth and eye it like it might be dangerous. “With this?” I ask after I’ve ascertained that it’s nothing more than an ordinary beer. “Yep. We’re at a much higher altitude than you’re used to. You might get a lot more drunk off a lot less. Add in the jet lag and you could be in for a doozy of a headache. You’re gonna want to drink a lot more water and just go slow with that thing.” I nod and thank him, eyeing my beer because apparently it suddenly is dangerous. “Anyway,” I say as I twist a lid off a water bottle I grabbed from the little cooler we picked up at the store. “Could get used to hearing what?” “That I’m right. Oh. And I think you called me wise, too. You can go ahead and do that whenever you feel like it.” “You are wise,” I say and take a sip of beer. “You know more about the world than anyone I’ve ever met. Did I know I needed to be careful with alcohol? Nope. But you did. Did I know the best way to have sex in an airplane? Nope. But you did. I bet there are a ton of things you know that normal people don’t.” I trail off, waiting for him to respond. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He makes a circular motion with his finger. “You can just keep the compliments coming.” We finish eating in a comfortable mix of silence and conversation. I settle back into my chair, content with the view and the company. For the first time in my whole life, there’s this silence in my soul. Like there was this buzzing in my head that I never noticed until it was gone. And now that it’s gone I can fully relax into myself. I consider trying to explain it to Dominic, but I don’t know that I can make sense of it out loud. At least not without sounding a little insane.

He hands me another beer and cracks open a second of his own. He was right, the altitude is definitely affecting me; I’m already feeling the first one a little. I’ll go slow with this second and call it quits. Dominic catches my hand as I take the beer and runs his thumb across the tattoo on my wrist. “I’ve loved this since I first saw it,” he says, releasing me. “What’s it mean?” I stare at the tattoo and run my own thumb of the three little birds taking flight. “It doesn’t really have a meaning. I just like birds.” Dominic sips his beer and settles back in his chair. “It must have some significance, even if you didn’t realize it at the time.” He stares out at the canyon, the setting sun lighting the sky on fire. I lose myself in the immensity and take a drink. “I always loved birds,” I say. “They get this awesome super power of flight. They break the rules, defy the law of gravity that the rest of us have to live by. We can only move in one …” I swallow and turn to him, scrunching up my nose as I search for the right word. “Linear? Does that make sense? We can move in as many directions as we want, but they’re all basically flat. Two dimensional if you will.” Dominic nods. “I think I’m following you.” “Birds aren’t like that. They can just take to the sky. One minute they’re here. The next? Gone.” I raise my hand in a swooping motion, pointing towards the sky. “I always wanted to do that.” Sadness settles into the silence in my soul and I take a long drink. “Why?” I lean my head back against my chair and turn to look at him. Does he know he’s asking hard questions? Does he know he’s getting into the parts of me that not many people get to see? I consider a nonchalant shrug and non-committal answer, but that sure would be hypocritical of me, considering I was just talking about wanting to get to the heart what makes him tick. “I feel trapped as all hell in Townsbury,” I say before I have a chance to get scared about having my insides out for inspection. “Everyone’s busy trying to be the same. Like they all had a meeting and decided that there was one good way to live life and anyone who doesn’t follow that path is wrong.” I take another drink and stare at the half-empty bottle. Blink a few times to bring it all back into focus. “You know. Fall in love. Get married. Buy a big house and an expensive car. Have kids and a dog. Keep your lawn tidy and fuss with the landscaping. It’s just not me.” “You don’t want those things?” Dominic is staring at me intently and I can’t read his expression. “I mean, some of it sounds nice. I want someone to love. Someone who loves me. But how can I know what that looks like yet? How can I know if that means he wants a big house and a big car and a big family when I haven’t even met him yet?” Except maybe I have met him. Maybe he’s right beside me. I pause, just a little too drunk to process that thought. Have we gotten there

already? A week, a sunset, and a camping trip and I’m ready to profess my undying love? Maybe I need to put down the beer. “But doesn’t it matter what you want?” asks Dominic. “Why do you have to meet him to know what you want?” “I guess that’s the thing. I guess I do know what I want. And maybe, when I meet the guy he’ll be cut from the same cloth as me. And maybe, instead of the house and car and the lawn, we just … wander.” I meet Dominic’s eyes, my heart pounding. Blood roaring in my veins. The silent spot filled up with the buzz of worry. I intentionally used some of his words there and that might have been a terrible, jet-lagged, drunken mistake or it might be the greatest idea of my life. It all depends on what comes out of Dominic’s mouth next. And wouldn’t you know, he just smiles at me—kindness softening his dark eyes —and sits back in his chair and stares out at the sunset.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE SILENCE BETWEEN US ISN’T AWKWARD, BUT IT SURE ISN’T ANSWERING ANY OF THE QUESTIONS FLYING around my head. I dropped a great big hint for him to pick up and throw my way. A great big ‘hey, I think you’re pretty awesome what do you think about me?’ and the fact that he’s just letting it hang there between us is killing me. I sit quietly for as long as I can, reminding myself of all the reasons I should just be quiet and enjoy the time without pushing him to have a conversation he might not want to have. But I’m not very patient under the best of circumstances. Add in some jet-lag and some beer that went straight to my head and I’m a walking bad decision. “What about you?” I ask while I internally scream at myself to shut up. “Do you see yourself falling in love and working in the yard?” Oh God. What am I doing? “I mean, not like you have a yard now. So that’s kind of a stupid question. You don’t even have a home. You just wander. But in a good way.” Holy shit, shut UP, Dakota. I clamp my mouth shut and take a long breath in through my nose. “Sorry,” I say and instantly bite my lip against any other stupidity that might make its way through. Dominic studies me. Looks at me like he can see right past the goofy grin I’m trying to hide behind and find the frightened little numbskull inside. “That’s a great big question mark,” he says. In the dying light of the evening sun, his eyes go hard. “You give someone your heart and you give them the ability to rip it right out of you.” He squints out into the sunset. “Leave you hollow.” He tilts his beer back and finishes it. It’s clear I’m treading on the edges of some deep dark truths of his. But I just let

him tread on one of mine. And I’m supposed to be trying to get to know him better to help figure out if he’s truly worthy of the little flames of whatever that feeling is that’s warm and wonderful budding in my belly. “That’s true,” I say, following his gaze out to the sky. “But isn’t a happily ever after worth the risk?” “We’re not all entitled to a happily ever after, Dakota.” Normally, I like the way he says my name. Not now. There’s an edge to it that makes my stomach drop. I pull out my one-thousand-watt smile. The one that is fun and positive and happy. The one I reserve for tense situations that need a little nudge in the right direction. “I guess that’s true. But with the right person?” I lift my eyebrows and sigh dreamily, trying to feed him the same line the people of Townsbury have swallowed. The same line I’m not even sure I believe. I just want him to look at me and smile. He does look at me. He doesn’t smile. He sighs deeply and shakes his head. “My parents loved each other very much. Thought they had found the right person. Hell, back then, they probably had found the right person. But as they grew older, they grew apart. Cultivated separate interests. Separate friends. Separate dreams. Now they share a home and get mad when the other gets in the way.” He runs a hand over his mouth and chin. “I don’t want that.” “But don’t you think that when you find the right person, you are already both pointed in the same direction? That you cultivate the same interests because you are both on the same path? That it’s a choice to grow together instead of apart?” I realize that maybe I’m coming on a little too strong so I sit back and take another drink of my beer. Which was probably a mistake, given my already shoddy conversation decisions. Water is the best bet from this point forward. “I used to believe in love. Life just has a way, you know?” The anger has faded from Dominic’s eyes and now I feel like I’m just seeing him, the truth of him without all the emotions behind it. “Now I mostly wonder if it’s all just fairy tale stuff sold to us to keep us docile.” “What happened?” I swallow and try to ignore the strange surge of fear that sends a bit of ice through my veins. Dominic stares at me for a long time and I really start to regret all the questions I’ve been asking. I mean, maybe I’m going too fast. Digging into the bits and pieces of him that he’s not ready to share. Or won’t ever share. Or that I won’t like to hear. “Did you know I actually grew up in Farmington?” he asks, interrupting my inner monologue of self-doubt. “That town you visited with your friend? With the carnival?” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.” My mind is nothing but question marks and exclamation points. Farmington?! This seasoned world traveler grew up just a few miles away from me? In a town barely bigger than mine? I struggle to marry what I know about the man in front of me with what I remember about the boys I met who grew up there.

“Maybe that’s why I fell so in love with those National Geographic pictures. I got a little tired of the corn, too.” He winks at me and my jaw drops. “But you were busy going on and on about its beauty…” “Because it is beautiful. I just had to leave to figure it out.” Dominic shrugs and falls silent. This would be a perfect point to stop poking the bear. To stop asking dumb questions about things he clearly isn’t comfortable talking about. Just lean back in my chair and go back to enjoying the scenery with a hot man I barely know. “So what does Farmington have to do with love being a fairy tale?” Or, you know, I could just go on and keep pushing the matter. Dominic clears his throat. “I fell in love with my high school sweetheart. Melinda. I’m talking hard core in love. We dated our junior and senior years and I never looked at another girl.” “That’s a pretty big claim. I don’t think there’s a teenaged boy on the planet who only has eyes for one girl.” “Well, there was.” He points his thumbs at his chest. “This guy. I let my love for her define me. We graduated. I was young and dumb and idealistic. You know that carnival you were talking about? I took her there that summer. Had a ring in my pocket and a promise in my head. She had other ideas.” I try to imagine a young Dominic Kane, head over heels and ready to profess his undying love to his high school sweetheart. I didn’t think I could like the guy any more than I already did. I also know he’s expecting me to judge him for this, but it only makes him all the more endearing. “We were standing in front of this ridiculous ride. My big plan was to get her on it and then pop the question as we came to a stop, while our hearts were still racing from the adrenaline. Instead, while we were waiting in line, she told me she wanted to break up. That she had been seeing someone else. No…” The pain of that night twisted his face. “She said she had been fucking someone else. Said we’d grown apart. That it was nothing more than a foolish dream to think we would love each other forever. I lost my mind. Said a lot of awful things. Even threw the ring at her. I stormed away as she called after me. I just told her to ride the damn ride and let the wind wipe away all her memories of me or something dumb like that.” Dominic swallows and clears his throat. “She did. It malfunctioned and she was thrown from the ride. Died on the spot.” He watches me digest the story and it gets stuck in my throat. What do I say? How do I say it? “It wasn’t your fault,” I say, taking a wild guess at the hidden meaning behind his story. “I hear that a lot. And I believe it. Now. Most of the time.” He makes an apologetic face. “There was a long stretch of time that I spent unable to sleep, kept awake by all the guilt. If only I’d been strong enough to just walk away. If only I’d been man enough to stay and fight with her. For her. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten on the ride. The ride I told her to get on.”

I open my mouth to protest and Dominic interrupts. “I’ve made my peace with it now.” He smiles at me. “It’s lost most of its weight. It’s just a thing that happened to me.” The look in his eyes says that he means what he’s saying, but I’m not so sure it’s as true as he thinks it is. “Maybe,” I say and want to clamp a hand over my mouth so I will just stop talking already and not make thing weird. “Except you’re kind of still carrying it around.” Dominic squints at me and my heart starts going all kinds of fluttery and crazy. I promise myself that if I make it through this conversation without him getting all mad at me, then I will just shut up and smile and not worry about pushing him for more information. “How so?” he asks and I remember the way he looked when he had his arm around that guy’s neck at The Bad Apple. Not that I think he’s going to get me in a choke hold or anything, but he’s just got that dangerous air about him. You know what? In for a penny, in for a pound. If he’s the kind of guy I have to walk on egg shells around, then maybe he’s not the guy for me. And that was the point of this whole conversation, right? Finding out who he really is? “Well,” I say and twist in my chair so I can really look him in the eye. “If it was just a thing that happened to you, it wouldn’t still be keeping you bitter about love.” Dominic starts to protest and I hold up my hand. “I’m not saying you’re bitter—” “You totally just called me bitter.” “Well, you are the one who just told me that not everyone was entitled to a happily ever after. That sounds a little bitter, Dominic.” He shrugs. “I guess maybe I’m a little bitter. But I’ve let myself love four people in this live, Dakota. My sister, my parents, and Melinda. My sister was ripped from my life when I was too young to understand and there’s still a gaping hole in my heart where she belongs. My parents slowly froze themselves out, growing more and more distant after her death, after they realized that I just wasn’t going to be her. And then Melinda. I gave her my heart. All of me. Not only did she hand it back to me all crumpled and bruised, but she died before I had any chance at closure. Any at all.” Jesus. Now that he puts it that way, maybe I was too quick to judge. Maybe, with my happy London upbringing with all my favorite people still around to hold onto when times are hard, I had no right to tell him anything about how to handle his battle scars. I try to apologize and he waves it off. “My heart is just surrounded by scar tissue is all. Makes it a little tougher, a little harder to get to. But,” he says and makes a face that has excitement running up and down my spine. “Once you’re in, you’re in for good.” I don’t know if he was trying to lay down a serious hint right there or not, but I took it whether he meant it that way or not. I’m tingling with excitement. Busy wondering how far into his heart I already am. We sit in silence as the sun sets the

sky on fire and then puts itself to bed. At some point, he reaches out and takes my hand, twining my fingers with his. My thoughts keep swirling around his words, wondering at their meaning, but I finally, with the help of a little more beer, manage to talk myself into just letting it be. Why worry about what this relationship is when I can just sit here and enjoy the way we’re together? Why worry about the future at the expense of the present? Especially when the present includes watching the moon rise over the Grand Canyon while a flickering fire casts undulating shadows out past the tall trees. When my hand is in his and his is in mine and this is quite possibly the best day of my entire life. Why waste this moment over worry about what might be? I stop stifling my yawns and just let them go, leaning my head back into my chair, eyes blurred with jet-lag, beer, and the weariness that only comes after an exciting day. Dominic catches me dozing and helps me stand. We crawl into our tent. Change into our pajamas and curl up together. We’re on our sides, Dominic’s front pressed to my back, his arm around me, holding me close. I fall asleep with his breath in my hair, the warmth of his body seeping into my own. It’s nice. It’s better than nice. It’s absolutely wonderful.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I LISTEN TO DAKOTA’S BREATHS DEEPEN AS I HOLD HER CLOSE. BREATHE HER IN. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO make of our conversation tonight. It hurt like hell to hear her call me bitter, to admit that I guess I still am. And as she was busy probing deeper, asking too many questions, resentment rose up from some deep, dark, ugly place inside me and I wanted her to just shut the hell up. Was it a mistake to bring her? A mistake to make her think that this could ever be more than it is? Except that’s the thing, even just thinking that right now, a thought that assumes Dakota is nothing more than a fling—a moment in time—even as I thought it, a part of me argues that if ever there was a woman to let into my heart, she’s the one. I just don’t know if I have it in me to give it to her. Because I will never sit still. I cannot be in one place. I cannot have the roots that her love for her family will have created in her. And I can’t expect her to wait around for me while I flit about the globe. What kind of relationship would that be? An unfair relationship, that’s what. And I can’t expect her to come with me. Not now, while what we have is still so young. Whatever it is that we have. We kind of defy definition. I laugh, a little derisive sound that pulls Dakota from sleep. She stirs and whimpers. I pull her even closer and she snuggles into me, sighing herself back to sleep. We defy definition. That’s not just true of our little crazy fling of a relationship we have going on, but it’s also true of ourselves. Neither one of us fit into any box,

any label. We are each our own brand. But that’s not really true either because I think we are both the same brand. That she and I are lock and key, yin and yang, made to go together. One flowing into the other, a perfect half of an even better whole. And yet, lying here with her tucked up against me, I’m afraid of how good it feels. Afraid for her. Afraid for me. Afraid of the truth. She feels better than anyone I’ve ever met. In all ways. In all things. She is my answer and judging from the way she’s been looking at me, from the way she spoke to me tonight, I am hers. And that’s such a delicious fantasy that I can’t help but smile, and that’s the problem in and of itself. I only have her for another week at most. The time here at the canyon and then in Vegas. And then it’s over. The end. Amen. And is it fair for either one of us to open ourselves up to the other if we’re just going to end up with another hole in our heart? I don’t know if I can handle missing another part of myself like that. I’m afraid that if I let her in and lose her to the realities of our lives that I’ll just unravel. All the broken pieces of myself will come unglued and I’ll be left with nothing but pictures instead of memories. Pixels on a screen, ink on paper, the world seen through a lens rather than through my own eyes. I sigh. Sleep is far away and my thoughts keep chasing it further. Maybe it was a mistake to bring her here. A mistake to prolong the inevitable. A mistake to give us more time before the end that is looming ahead of us, more time to know each other. To learn the things that make us who we are, the things that make us perfect for each other. Maybe I should have said goodbye to her yesterday. Deleted her pictures and moved on. Maybe it would have been better for us both that way. Safer. Saner. A clean break without all the jagged edges of heartbreak. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can push her out of my heart and pull myself out of hers and we’ll both be better off for it at the end of the week. Somewhere, out in the distance, a coyote howls, wailing up to the moon. Goosebumps ripple out across my flesh and I pull Dakota closer to me. I’ll hold her tight for just this one more night before I choose to let her go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MY HEAD IS THROBBING. IT’S THE PAIN THAT PULLED ME AWAKE AND THE PAIN THAT MAKES ME WANT TO roll right back into sleep. I reach for Dominic and find that I’m alone in the tent. Just the faintest of light is gleaming on the other side of the nylon walls. Dawn. The best light for pictures. And I’m missing it. Dominic’s out there without me. I push myself up into a sitting position and cringe as the world tilts and twists and pain lances through my temples and into my eyes. There’s a bottle of water next to me. A little note taped to it. Drink me, it says. I do, finishing most of the bottle in one long pull. I didn’t think to pack anything for headaches, because, um, I’m dumb, I guess. Something tells me Dominic did. That he’s the guy with all the answers. The wise one. The prepared one. I get dressed and pull my hair back into a messy bun. Pull my sunglasses out of my purse and slide them on before I crawl out of the tent, still squinting against the early light. Holy fuck I’m so glad I didn’t miss this. The red rock is outlined in gold from the rising sun, a pinprick of energy just now appearing at the edge of the horizon in a supernova of yellow and gold streaking out across the sky. I sigh and almost forget I have a headache, almost forget to wonder where Dominic is. Lost in that feeling again, the one that makes me feel big and small all at the same time. I am nothing in the wake of such vast magnificence and somehow, being inconsequential is the most connected feeling I’ve ever had. No one else is awake yet. It’s just me out here, alone in this experience, yearning to share it with Dominic. Where did he go? I’m sure he was trying to be sweet, letting me sleep in, but I feel just the tiniest bit abandoned.

I put my head in my hands and groan. Run my fingers back along my hair as I take a deep breath in and stretch my arms out to the sky. There’s movement beside me. The click of a camera and I drop my arms and smile. Click again. “Hey,” I say. Click. “Hey.” He’s still looking at me through the camera, still watching me through the lens. “It’s gorgeous.” I gesture towards the sunrise. Click. He nods. He changes positions. Click again. His silence is off putting. The frequent pictures unnerving. I just want him, Dominic the person. I don’t want to be separated by his camera. I want to be with him, not another one of his subjects. “You were right about the alcohol. I’ve got a pounder.” “Did you get the water I left?” Click. I smile, the big fake one that he never takes a picture of. “Yep.” Click. “Thanks.” I try not to let him see the frustration on my face. Try not to show him that last picture hurt me. He’s the guy that sees me. The one person I thought had seen through the big fake one-thousand-watt smile and knew how to wait for the ones that mean something. The fact that he took a picture just then, one that is sure to be like all the ones I’m used to seeing of myself—bad—that makes me wonder if he ever really saw me at all. Or maybe he’s just as jet-lagged and hung over as I am. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pain killers would you?” I ask, shrugging sheepishly. “I didn’t think to bring any.” Finally, he lowers the camera. “You want to just stay here while I go out? Rest up? You don’t have to push yourself, you know. I can go get these shots by myself.” Well now I’m really getting upset. Of course I don’t want to sit in the tent all day while he goes out, seeing and experiencing. I came here to get some adventure. With him. Headache or not, I’m going. “That’s very sweet,” I say because maybe he was trying to take care of me. Not push me away. “But I came here to see the sights. I’ll be damned if I let a little headache get in the way.” Dominic shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He disappears back into the tent and comes out with two white pills in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “I’d go heavy on the water today,” he says, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder. “Are you a coffee drinker?” I ask, hoping that he doesn’t hear the hidden why are you kind of being an asshole question behind the question. He shrugs. Again. “Sometimes.” And now he’s fiddling with the strap on his camera and I swear it’s because he doesn’t want to look at me. What happened? Did our conversation last night not go the way I thought it had? Is he really just another broken asshole licking his wounds? Fine as long as we were dealing with superficial stuff, but now that I know more about him, he’s going to back off and push me away?

I hate to think that my sisters were right because they will never let me live this down. Plus, I actually really like Dominic. I don’t want him to be just like every other guy out there. I thought he was better than that. “So, what about this morning?” I ask. “Do you need some coffee?” I have no idea how we’d get coffee. At the store? Maybe he’s got a way to make it on the fire? But if he’ll answer me and the man wants coffee, I will damn well figure out how to make him some. “It’s a double-edged sword,” he finally says. “I would love some caffeine, but it’s going to be a scorcher and dehydration is a real concern.” We go about getting ready, carrying our little bags of toiletries over to the restrooms so we can brush our teeth and wash up a little. While I’m in the women’s room, I check my phone because I feel the strongest urge to reach out to my sisters right now. I feel so unbalanced and they always help me find my equilibrium. Of course, I’ve got absolutely zero signal. The thing is pretty much just a gigantic clock. I guess I’m going to have to navigate these murky waters on my own. We decide to grab energy drinks at the general store and I pick up a backpack so I can help carry some extra water. Dominic is pleasant, but detached the whole time and by the time we get back to camp and are getting ready to head out, I’ve had enough. He’s had enough time to wake up and get ungrumpy. If I can’t get him to talk to me like a civilized person, then I’ll just have to reach out to him in a different way. I walk up to where he’s zipping up his back and checking the straps on his camera for the millionth time this morning. He looks up and I grab his collar. Pull him towards me. Kiss him like it’s the first kiss and last kiss all wrapped up into one. I let my hand slide up from his collar to his jaw, the other hand goes to his waist and fists in his t-shirt. I part my lips, invite him in. Mold my body to his. His kiss is sweet but not sensuous. Polite but not greedy. He smiles when he pulls away but there’s a sadness in his eyes that I don’t like. Not one bit. But whatever it is, whatever it means, now is not the time to puzzle it out because apparently, it’s time to go. He leads us off on a well-worn trail and I focus on deep breaths and wide open views. Last night I made a promise to myself to focus on the present instead of the future and right now, my present includes some pretty amazing scenery. So what if I’m taking in the view while walking next to a guy who just last night, I thought might have potential to be the one. So what if this morning I’m starting to think he’s just like every other jerk I’ve met at The Bad Apple, in it for the superficial stuff. The sex and the smiles. At least he hasn’t stolen my wallet. The headache is still raging and by now, the sun is a big angry glaring ball of hotness slinging it’s heat rays down at me from above. I gave up trying to pull my water bottle out of my bag every time Dominic stopped for a shot and have just been carrying it with me. I’m glad we thought to bring more because I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hot in all of my life. The trail he’s chosen has gotten more and more challenging as we’ve been

going. Gone is the well-worn path with clear footing and in its place is a vague suggestion of where we might go covered in bits of rock, loose dirt, and other bits of debris. Dominic has found a place he wants to shoot. A unique vantage of the Colorado River. He’s off by himself. Again. Some more. Looking through the lens of his camera. I take the moment to just walk away a little. Physically put some distance between us. Whatever has him weird today is beyond me and I’m done with being upset about it. I’m here. In this amazing place. Sure, I thought I was going to be here with him. And yeah, technically I am with him, but not in the way that matters. I thought I was going to be here, sharing this experience with someone who understood the part in me that needed this experience. That we’d be doing this together in the deepest sense of the word, not just sharing space, but sharing the moment. There’s a distinction. But, if I’m not going to get that with him, then I’d be a fool to waste these days moping over the loss of something I probably never had. I’m here. And damn it, I’m going to get everything I can out of it because the chances of me ever getting to leave Townsbury again are slim to none. I wonder off towards the edge or our sort of, kind of trail. Walk right up to it so my toes are dangling off and look down. And down. And down. This crazy feeling of vertigo twists through me, mingles with the energy drink and adrenaline and goes zinging through my bloodstream. Down, down, down below us is the Colorado River. A tiny slice of color, the reason behind this big vast hole in the rock. Time and patience do wonderful things, I guess. A few feet below where I stand, there’s a small outcropping of rock. There are birds there, hopping and pecking among the bits of foliage. I shift feet and send a small spray of rocks tumbling down on them and they take off, flying away below me. Somehow, the fact that I am higher than the birds does funny things to my soul. I smile and tears burn my eyes. I spread my arms, look to the sky, press my chest up and forward. More rocks scuttle out from beneath my toes, crackling and rattling. The rattle continues on too long. It creeps into my subconscious and I pucker my eyebrows in confusion. That’s not rocks. I open my eyes and look down. There, just at my feet is a rattlesnake, coiled and menacing, his tongue wicking out of his mouth to taste the air. “Dakota!” Dominic bellows my name, bearing down towards me. I shriek. Stagger back. Lose my balance. There’s this moment of my arms windmilling. I catch a freeze frame of the water bottle in my hand glinting in the desert sun. The sound of the rattle goes on and on, an infinite warning of impending doom. I slip. A cascade of rocks. I’m falling. Down. Down. Down.

Scraping skin against canyon. Bumping and bruising and screaming. I see Dominic above me, looking down at me. Frightened. I hit something and I roll. Skid along the canyon wall. Crash into the outcropping of rock, startling three more birds from their roost. As they streak away from me, three dark shapes against a sickly swirling sky, my vision collapses in on itself until I see nothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I’VE SWALLOWED FIRE. IT SEARS THROUGH MY VEINS, RAVAGING MY BODY. RUSHES THROUGH MY bloodstream and settles in my head. My skin. My foot. Dear God! My foot! I am fire. Consumed. Open my eyes to the sky and let them roll back in my head. It’s better in the dark. There’s whirring. What is it? Another snake? No. It’s a fan. Huge blades circulating and whipping the air around my wounded body. Leaves and dust battering my skin, stealing my breath. Hands on me. Soothing words wrapped in urgent voices and the crackling of a radio interrupts it all. “Hold on,” they say and I try to tell them I can’t, but then I’m wrenched into the air and screaming without sound. More hands. Something firm underneath me. I’m flying. A bird set free, flying away from it all. Something cold and wet touches my lips. A hand on my hair. And then I close my eyes again because even now, it’s better in the dark. MY EYES open without being asked. I don’t even know I’m awake until I realize that I’m staring at a newscaster on a TV hooked to the wall. My throat is made of broken glass. I try to sit up and the world tilts on its axis so I drop my head back into my pillow with a groan.

IV’s in my hand. A cast on my foot. A thin, coarse blanket covering my body. I blink slowly. Open my eyes to find the newscaster replaced by a sitcom. Dominic is asleep in a chair beside me. He’s got it pulled away from the wall so it’s right next to the bed. His hand is on mine. His head rolled off to the side. His five o’clock shadow is now mostly a beard and somehow, he looks all the more handsome for it. Rugged. Wild. Untamed. I try to sit up and pain slices through my body. I groan and Dominic jerks awake. “Hey,” he says, leaning forward, relief and anxiety swimming in his eyes. I swallow and try a smile. “Hey.” I cough. Speaking sets my throat on fire. “Don’t you worry about talking.” He grabs a cup with a straw from the table beside me and holds it to my lips. I drink, cautiously at first and then with more gusto as the water goes to work beating back the flames. “Do you remember anything?” he asks? I close my eyes. Nod my head, then shrug and shake it, flaring my hands in confusion. I remember blips. Nothing that makes much sense. “You fell. Remember?” I nod yes. See the snake and hear the evidence of my reaction as the beeps on the heartrate monitor speed up. Dominic takes my hand. “You were very lucky. You fell far, but landed on the one outcropping of rock that could support your weight. If you’d gone down anywhere else…” He takes a deep breath and misery and concern dance a slow tango across his face. I look at my foot, wondering if the snake got me. “What happened?” I manage and the world spins out of focus. “It’s broken. It’s bad, but they say it could have been worse. And you’ve got one hell of a concussion. That’s why you’re so loopy.” I nod. “I couldn’t reach you. And I didn’t have cell service. I had to run back to the ranger station at the campsite. Ran the whole way. Didn’t even think to put down my pack. They brought in a helicopter to get you out.” I want to know more. I want him to keep talking. I need him to keep talking. I just plain need him. I try to tell him. Try to ask him not to leave me. To stay. But the world swims again and everything goes dark. THE NEXT TIME I wake up, Dominic is already awake, staring at me from his place in the chair near the bed. He’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes and it makes me smile. Which makes him smile. “How ya feeling?” he asks. “Better,” I say, glad to find my voice working again.” “You look better.” I laugh. “Doubt that.” My hair and skin feel greasy. My mouth tastes nasty. I have never felt more unappealing.

“I didn’t say you look good, just that you look better.” I laugh because it’s funny, but I so so so want a mirror and some time with a brush. I guess that’s a good sign. “How long have we been here?” Dominic takes my hand and kisses each of my fingertips. I smile at him and lay my head back, this wonderful, swooning exhaustion making my eyelids heavy. I want to ask him what we do now. I want to ask him what we’re going to do with about the way we feel about each other because nothing in our lives has changed. He still travels the world and I’m still stuck in Townsbury and how do we survive the pull of our gravity without being pulled apart at the seams? The cold reality of it is that the hospital isn’t ready to release me in time for Dominic to leave for Vegas. Given the concussion and the severity of the break in my foot, they want me to stay for observation. All I hear is that not only do I have to miss out on the second part of my adventure, but I have to say goodbye to Dominic earlier than I want to. And we don’t have plans on how or when we’re going to see each other again. He’s booked for the next month and a half of travel. And me? I don’t have the kind of savings account that will let me follow him around the world. He stays with me at the hospital as long as he can, talks about calling the resort and canceling but I talk him right out of that. This is his job. And this resort is a big deal, one of the better paying gigs he’s had in a while. There’s no way around it. He has to take it. And so, with promises of phone calls and texts and video calls, Dominic kisses me goodbye. And damn if there wasn’t a whole lot of goodbye in his kiss. As he walks out of my hospital room, my heart in his hand, my lips quiver. I fight it until he’s out of sight and then, the moment he’s around the corner, I bury my head in my pillow and I sob. THE HOSPITAL RELEASES me a few days later. Apparently, a flight home could exasperate my concussion symptoms, or it could be absolutely just fine and I’ll have absolutely zero problems at all. The headaches have been pretty fucking terrible, so in all honesty, I’m not at all anxious to get on a plane, rolling the dice on making it worse. Besides, this is my first big adventure, my first time to see anything that isn’t Ohio, green fields and rolling hills and stretches of cornfields, punctuated with the acrid scent of cow poo. And how did I spend it? I got one jet-lagged night staring out over the canyon and one headachy day hiking and the rest I spent in a hospital room. That so isn’t going to work for me. The day the hospital releases me, I take a cab back out to the North Rim—cringe a little when I pay the cabbie—and crutch my ass to the general store to pick up a notebook and a pen and hobble out to a benches on one of the many scenic overlooks. Sure I get plenty of weird looks. Who brings crutches to the Grand Canyon? I do. That’s who.

A girl who isn’t going to let anything stop me from living this part of my dream. I sit on that bench and I write. I write about the view. The people. The sense of vastness and how tiny I feel in comparison. But how that tiny feeling grows into something huge and connected and how, in this one place, I feel like I’m on the verge of understanding how we all are part of one great big community. How, even though the world is huge, and the human race is so divided, that we are really all connected by the same basic desires. To love. To be loved. To help and be helped. To see and be seen. My pen flies over the paper, the words flowing out of me like they used to back when I was young enough to believe that I could really be anything I wanted in the whole wide world. Back when I actually thought that all I had to do was dream it and it was mine. Back when I believed that I could grow up and travel the world, writing about my experiences. I pause. My eyes fill with tears. The scene in front of me wavers. Because right now, in this very instant, that’s what I’m doing. I have traveled across the country and have parked my happy ass out in front of the wild wilderness and am writing about my experience. I may not be making any money. In fact, the cost of the cab here and then back to the airport is a huge chunk of change, but I am sitting here doing the thing little Dakota London always said she would do. How fucking cool is that? Well, my head hurts, and this cast on my foot isn’t a walk in the park. There’s a big, Dominic sized hole in my heart and I don’t know how that’s going to play out. But, all that notwithstanding this is the best, most wonderful day of my whole life. I check my phone and wouldn’t you know it? I’ve got service. I type out a text to Dominic, the screen blurred and watery. Thank you. For you. For this trip. I miss you. I hit send without thinking twice. Wipe my face and pick up my pen. Pour my heart—the part that isn’t with Dominic—out onto the page. When I have no more words in me. When I’ve written enough to fill most of the small notebook. I take one last look at the Grand Canyon. Try to memorize the way I feel right now. Take a picture that won’t do it justice. Then I call for a cab to take me to the airport. When I get there, I realize that I don’t have a souvenir. Well, I guess the cast on my leg counts, but it’s not exactly the kind of souvenir I wanted to bring home with me. I stop in the gift shop at the airport and grab a magnet with a picture that doesn’t do the Canyon justice and a shot glass and overpay for them both. Next time, I’ll remember to get a better souvenir. I’ll fill my apartment with memories of

my travels. Next time. Ha. I say that like there actually will be a next time and I’m not going home to reinsert myself into my rut. My phone buzzes as I’m waiting for boarding, reading through what I wrote and daydreaming about Dominic. First, I see a text from him. No no, sweet Dakota. Thank you. Miss you so much it hurts. Can’t wait to see you again. My heart does a victory lap and I smile like an idiot. He wants to see me again. Maybe I’m not going back to Townsbury to pick up where I left off. Maybe I’m just going back to wait until my next adventure with Dominic. They call for boarding as I read through a slew of texts from Maya and Chelsea, excited to see me, worried about my concussion, eager to hear all the dirty details of my time here. Bolstered by the text from Dominic and all the love flowing from my sisters flowing across the country to me, I smile like an idiot as I crutch my way down to the plane. THE FLIGHT IS long and awful. My head hurts so much I just want to cry. Okay, so much I do cry. My foot throbs and I can’t prop it up on anything. My heart aches for Dominic. It’s like I can’t breathe without him. Like now that I know what it means to be whole, I can’t manage the thought of going back to only being half of myself. Between the head and the foot and the heart, I am nothing but pain. I want to drink myself into a deep sleep. Drink until I laugh from the sheer absurdity of it all. But, that’s not the smart way to handle a concussion. Instead, I drink plenty of water and take some ibuprofen and hide my face so no one can see my tears. Chelsea and Maya are waiting for me at the gate and I’m carried out of the airport on a cloud of sisterly love. If they notice my tear-stained cheeks and redrimmed eyes, they don’t say anything. They just load me in the car and get me home where they stretch me out on my couch, prop my aching foot up and cover the cast in bags of ice to ease the pain. They stay and chat and I avoid breaking down in front of them by some miracle that I don’t understand. I tell them about the beauty of the place, about how perfect Dominic is, hell, I even tell them about the plane sex. I give them everything but the hole in my heart because that will only fuel their fire. Give them reason to remind me that they were right and I was wrong and as perfect as Dominic is for me, he still didn’t meet their criteria and I’m here, left broken in his wake, needing my sisters to help put me together again. When they leave, I cry again. Big ugly tears and sobs that feel like my heart wants out of my chest so it can show me just how broken it is. How can I miss him

this much? How can he already be so entrenched in my soul that being without him hurts like this? I text him, needing some sort of contact between us. I miss you. I don’t wait long for his reply. Miss you too, beautiful girl. And in that instant I am both put back together again and destroyed completely. I pull the notebook out of my bag. Read what I wrote sitting on that bench on the rim of the Grand Canyon. I scribble notes in the margin. Cross out words and make revision. Rewrite it until it’s late and I can’t see through my exhaustion, but the words on the page are an exact replication of my time there. The beauty, the grandeur. A perfect reminder of everything I want to be from this point forward. A traveler. A doer. Someone who takes chances and hops out of ruts. Someone who loves and is loved in return. I tear the papers out of the notebook and hobble over to stick them to my fridge with my Grand Canyon magnet. I pour a shot of whiskey into my new shot glass and down it, my heart crying out for Dominic as I taste him on my lips.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

WEEKS PASS AND I GET MY CAST OFF. SUFFER THROUGH PHYSICAL THERAPY APPOINTMENTS AND FINALLY start walking without a limp. Dominic and I are in constant contact. Texts. Emails. Instagram. Skype. We talk late into the night and early into the morning and the whole time I’m at work. We’re so connected, the only thing I miss is his touch. And holy hell, do I ever miss his touch. There’s a blank spot in his schedule coming up. And a few weeks after that, another one. Originally, he was going to spend those weeks doing what he does. Finding odd places to pitch a tent and camp out under the stars. Grabbing a cheap hotel room if the weather is bad. But now? He’s coming to spend those blank spots with me. Just thinking about it makes me giddy. Our conversations have strayed from the surface area stuff. Dominic has started asking me questions about why I think the things I do, why I want what I think I want and I have learned more about myself in these last weeks of trying to answer his questions than I have in most of my life. And in return, he’s answered my own questions. And his answers match my answers and I have come to realize that he’s going to understand me better than anyone in my life because he is just like me. And I am just like him. And it’s so fucking good to be understood. To just say something and not have to go back and explain what I meant. Or take it back or try to explain away the weirdness. He and I are wanderers and wonderers and our souls know what it means to yearn to see and experience. While Chelsea worries about me, Dominic encourages me and wow. It makes all the difference in the world.

I am vibrant. I am alive. I am happier than I have ever been until the next day when I’m happier still. I told him about the article I wrote and he can’t wait to read it. I’m equal parts exhilarated and terrified about having his eyes in my head like that. The words on that page? They’re raw. They’re me. They’re a window into my soul because my hopes and dreams are wrapped up in writing and what if he laughs? Or he’s confused? Or he just shakes his head and forces a smile, pats my knee and tells me it’s great, it really is, while I can tell he’s thinking the exact opposite… I think the last would hurt the most. I’ve written every day since I came home. Sometimes little bits of fiction, but mostly, bits and pieces about who I am and what I want. Honest, hard truth kind of stuff. Sometimes, I Google some of the places he’s been and stare at images, try to write something like the article I have still stuck to my fridge with a Grand Canyon magnet. But, a picture never does the place justice. Even his pictures. I use color words to describe the sky and the ground. Trite explanations about the beauty or the harsh rawness of a place. But I never come close to capturing the feeling of the place like I did in my fridge paper because you can’t feel through a picture and I need the feeling to write. He’ll be here tomorrow and I can’t sleep tonight. I take a shot of whiskey in my souvenir shot glass and put myself to bed, counting the hours between us. “THIS IS REALLY FUCKING GOOD, Dakota.” Dominic shuffles through the papers in his hands. My Grand Canyon article. I’m perched on my couch, my butt all the way on the edge, my hands clasped firmly in my lap so I don’t fidget myself into oblivion. I watched him as he read, trying to discern all the different nuances of his expression. His pursed eyebrows. The way he sucked on his bottom lip. The tiny little twitch of a smile. And now he hits me with those deep eyes, shining with awe and wonder. “Really, really good.” “You think so?” I slide even more forward and honestly, I don’t even know how I’m still sitting. “Hell yes.” He shakes his head, his mouth open. “You’ve got a gift.” “Yeah. It’s called you.” I want in his arms. I want him to open them up and invite me in. He’s been here at my apartment for all of twenty minutes. I greeted him with my lips, tasting him, touching him and the very next thing I did was show him the article. But now that he’s seen it, I need to touch him again. He laughs and shuffles through the papers, rereading certain passages. Finally, he puts them down on the armrest and stands up, opening his arms to me. “Come here.” I rush him. Crush my body to his, breathe him in and revel in the way his arms fit so well around me. I am grounded with him here. Made whole. Anchored. And so totally set free.

And then his lips find mine and there’s urgency in his kiss. His hands in my hair. My hands under his shirt, finding that skin I crave so much. He grinds his hips into me, his erection pressing into my stomach and fire rushes through my veins. We tear at each other’s clothing. Pulling away the thin layers of cloth still separating us, desperate to come together. Desperate to be connected again. Two becomes one, joined at the soul, my body for him and his for me. I lose myself to oblivion of physical and emotional and spiritual pleasure and call out his name as he drives into me again and again, my name a prayer on his lips. I meet his eyes as an orgasm tears through me, just in time for him to shudder and come. He holds my gaze and I hold his and never in my life have I felt so complete. WE ARE TANGLED up in each other in my bed. Legs and arms and sheets twisting together until we are one. He runs a hand through my hair while I wipe away tears. “Don’t cry,” he says, worry in his voice. “I’m sorry.” I sniff. “I just really missed you.” “But I’m here.” “I know. That’s why I’m crying. I’m relieved.” I want to tell him that I can’t fathom the fact that I only have him for a few days. That I don’t know how I’m going to go back to surviving without him. That as much as I love being with him, I don’t know how to go about reconciling with the fact that most of the time, I’m not with him. How can I live a life that is all about waiting for him to show up, ever so briefly? I don’t know how to say all that, not without ruining this moment. “I love you,” I say and freeze. It’s the truth. So true, it might as well be a force of nature. But talk about ruining a moment. What if he doesn’t feel the same? Dominic pulls away from me, the sheets hissing underneath his bare skin. His eyebrows are pulled taut, an angry dark line over his even darker eyes. I feel my face mimicking his as panic strums in my chest. Eyebrows tight with worry. Mouth puckered. I take a breath, looking for the right words to take it all back when Dominic smiles. “You promise?” he asks. I nod, tears welling again. “With all that I am.” He pulls me close and wraps me up tight. “I love you too, Dakota London. For all the things that make you who you are with all the things that make me who I am.” And in that moment I am crushed with the weight of my feelings for this man, desperate to know that we will go on forever, and totally unsure how we can make that happen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MY FEW DAYS WITH DAKOTA ARE FANTASTIC. WE LAUGH. WE FUCK. I REALIZE JUST HOW MUCH I LOVE HER laugh. I thought I was good with our relationship the way it was. Texting and Skyping. Even with thousands of miles separating us most times, I’ve grown closer to her than I have anyone else in my life. But now that I’m right here next to her? There’s no comparison for the beauty of actually being in her presence. It’s like no matter how hard I try to capture the majesty of this earth in my pictures, I can never quite get it right. Texting with her is good. Skyping with her is better because I get to see her beautiful face. But being right here next to her where I can touch her and feel her energy, where I can see the tiny nuances of her expressions, it’s just better. But what am I going to do with that information? I can’t stay. It’s not in my nature to sit still. And I can’t ask her to go with me. Look what happened to her in Arizona. She fell. I treated her like shit because she asked hard questions and got harder answers and she walked away from me and fell. I almost lost her. She swears she doesn’t hurt anymore, but I still catch her limping from time to time. She’s safe here in Townsbury. She may be bored, but isn’t that better than putting her in danger? There’s this part of me that wants to ask her to travel with me. Her article about the Grand Canyon is good. Really fucking good. It’s like if we could just pair her words with my pictures than maybe we could distill what it’s like to actually be there down to one experience. This idea has been poking around in my head ever since I read it. She could travel with me. Write about the places I photograph and we could start a travel blog.

We could wander the world together, describing what we see in our own special way for all the people who can’t leave their family, their homes, their jobs. We could be together. Living a life outside the norm, a life that makes sense to no one but us. But. As soon as I start to feel that flowing euphoria of a great idea, as soon as I start to imagine her small hand in mine as we stare out at the Saharan Desert, or down off the cliffs in Bora Bora, I remember that moment as she lost her footing, as the rattlesnake leapt towards her and she disappeared over the edge of the North Rim. That moment I saw her crumpled and unmoving, blood trickling from her hairline. The desperation of knowing she needed me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The knowledge that I had let her into my heart and that it just fell over the cliff with her. It stuttered along with hers. Terrified to discover another person sized hole in my heart at the end of the day. How? How could I survive that? The truth is. I couldn’t. I know that with all of me. As much as I need her near me, I need her safe even more. And where I go? The things I do? They are not safe. If I bring her with me, I will be knowingly putting her in danger. I want her with me. But that’s a selfish thing. And love shouldn’t be selfish. If traveling the world with me means that her life is at risk, then the right thing to do is to leave her here. Part of me curls up and dies thinking about saying goodbye to her time and time again. Or worse, saying goodbye to her and meaning it forever. But isn’t that what I should do? Isn’t that the best way to show her that I love her? To sacrifice my needs in order to make sure she’s okay? Isn’t that what a real man would do? A protector? A provider? My heart and my mind battle. I cherish my time with her. These few days where we are just lost in each other before I have to leave again. Come with me. Those words are on the tip of my tongue at all times. Leave this life that has you feeling squashed and squandered and misunderstood and join me because we are two of a kind. Cut from the same cloth. Because life is better with you in it. But I never say it because that last thought is so very true. Life is better with Dakota in it. And that’s true even if she’s not with me. I love her and it’s my job to protect her. And I will do that even if it means that I have to learn to live without her. Even if it means I have to leave her for the last time, saying the worst kind of goodbye. The kind that is permanent. The kind that means I won’t be coming back to her here in Townsbury. I watch her on the day I have to leave. She swipes at her eyes and clutches her stomach like her insides might fall out. Grief tightens her features and her chest heaves as I walk away from her. I pretend like I don’t notice. Pretend like I don’t feel the same.

But I love her. And I don’t want to hurt her. Maybe the right answer is that I need to let her go. That I need to stop being selfish and set her free. Break my heart to save hers. I barely notice as the plane takes off because my mind is still back on the ground with Dakota.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I CAN’T GET MY EYES OFF MY PHONE. SECONDS FEEL LIKE YEARS AND MINUTES MIGHT AS WELL BE eternities. I have died a thousand deaths since I showed up at work today, just waiting for nine o’clock to be here and those doors to open and Dominic Kane to walk through, that same swoon-worthy smile lighting up the whole goddamned room. Thankfully we’re busy, still just the new normal for us ever since his YouTube video hit, and I’m able to burn off some of my nervous energy by racing from person to person. Even so, I’m sure my smile is too wide and my eyes are a little crazed and I can’t keep my attention on the people who are talking to me because I’m too busy checking out the door to see who just walked in. Finally, the hour hand kisses eight and I am jubilant. I might as well just let the customers behind the bar to serve themselves because my focus is on nothing but Dominic and his eminent arrival. He’s only been gone a week this time, and I don’t know if that has made it better or worse. I didn’t have time to get used to missing him again. I’m just ready, so ready, to see him. And then I do. It’s a simple thing, seeing the face of someone you love, but it has such a profound effect on me that it’s like, I don’t know, seeing the face of God or something. Which is a silly way to describe something as simple as seeing the man I love, but that’s the way it feels. Like he is my prayer. Or the answer to one. “Hey, stranger,” he says as he saunters up to the bar. “Hey there, Mr. Wonderful.” I pour him a couple fingers of whiskey and lean towards him for a kiss. I don’t care if it’s appropriate or not. People can stare. Big Jake can come lumbering out of the manager’s office and fire me on the spot. I

don’t care. I’ve got Dominic with me and so all is right with the world. I am safe and invincible. Powerful beyond measure. He leans forward and kisses me, the bar crammed against my ribs and hips, an unwelcome barrier between us. “You get more beautiful by the day,” he says when he finally pulls away. “And I didn’t think you could get hotter…” I stand back and let my eyes rake over him. “But damn, Kane. You are one mighty fine human specimen.” I get lost in the circus of serving drinks and taking care of customers, all while keeping my eyes on Dominic while he’s busy keeping his eyes on me. I’ve got one thing on my mind and that’s getting him home and having my merry way with him. Or rather, letting him have his merry way with me. Dominic likes it best when he gets to order me around and let me tell you what, I like it best that way, too. There’s something so freaking hot about giving myself over to him, about putting all my trust in him and relaxing into his control. In fact, I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it now. I wore my highest, sluttiest heels and my shortest, tightest skirt tonight. I almost went without panties, but decided that was actually a terrible decision with a night of work in between me and Dominic and went with a hot pair of red lace panties—nothing more than two small triangles held together with strings—and a matching bra. When I finally get Dominic to myself, I intend to wow him before I let go and let him wow me. About fifteen years pass in the span of the next few hours and finally—finally!— the night is over. We hop in my car and I don’t know how I make it home because Dominic’s hands are everywhere and his mouth, dear God his dirty mouth. “Can you pay attention to the road while I play with your pussy, Dakota?” he asks in that commanding way of his that is nothing but kindling to the fire of my desire. “I can’t wait to taste you, to lick you from top to bottom.” I shiver and he continues. “I’m going to fill that tight pussy with my cock and fuck you until you beg for mercy.” I whimper, more turned on than I’ve ever been in all my life. “Do you like that, Dakota?” I nod. “Answer me.” “Yes, I like it.” “You like what?” “When you fuck me until I beg.” And let me tell you, I’m just about ready to beg right now. Just pull the car over and beg for him to take me in the backseat on the side of the road. I have no idea how I’m going to make it home. Not when I can barely focus on driving. And then, just when I think I can’t take any more, he pulls his fingers away. I am bereft. Empty. I crave his touch. Covet it. I am famine and he is a feast and I am less able to concentrate now than I was when he was touching me.

Somehow we make it to my apartment and I stride up to the front door in my high heels and tight skirt, with my wet panties and taut nipples, and I feel like the sexiest creature that’s ever walked this earth. I can feel Dominic’s eyes on my swaying hips. On the curve of my waist. I let my eyes burn into his as I unlock the door. “Will you take control for me?” I ask as I swing open the door. Lust clouds Dominic’s eyes. “Get inside.” Of course, a sarcastic response shows up, all locked and loaded and ready to go. I swallow against it because while our normal relationship is full of wonderful banter, that’s not the game we play in the bedroom. I step inside the apartment and wait for him to follow me in and close the door. He circles me, eyeing me from head to toe. Trails a finger across the back of my neck. Takes my chin between his fingers and lifts my face to his. The man looking down at me is hard. Cold. The look in his eyes is detached, predatory. I shiver because I love it and the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile and his eyes light up. “I love seeing you tremble,” he says. “I love how you open up for me. Give in to me. I want you and I have you and it’s fucking perfect.” He kisses me, my chin still trapped between his fingers. “Now. Take off your shirt.” When he releases me, I do as he says, arching my back as I pull it over my head. A low growl sounds in his chest when he sees my bra and I can’t help but feel satisfied in my choice. “Your skirt.” He makes a motion with his fingers that means he wants me out of it. I obey without hesitation, but also without kicking off my shoes. So now I’m just standing in front of him in my red lace bra and panties and my super slutty, fuck me heels. “Holy shit. Am I the luckiest man to ever walk this planet or what?” I can’t help it. My mouth works before I think. “Probably,” I say with a smile and a shrug of one shoulder. “God, I love your witty mouth.” “I thought you liked me all silent and obedient.” “Oh, I like you obedient. But silent? Robotic? Hell no. I love you the way you are, sassy mouth and all.” He undoes his belt and slowly pulls it out of his pants, the hiss of leather on denim filling the small room. “Now,” he says as he undoes his button. “Let me fuck that sassy mouth of yours.” I’m on my knees before he has to repeat himself. Mouth open, eyes wide as I stare up at him and take him all the way to the back of my throat. He groans and I moan, fully aware of just how the vibrations drive him crazy. He pulls himself out of my mouth. “Beg me.” And then he thrusts into me again. “Beg me to fuck you.” Breathless, I pull back. “Please fuck me, Dominic. Fuck me hard.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Stand up.” I do. My body thrums with need. My panties are soaked and my clit is crying out

for contact. A frantic throb that forces me to squeeze my legs together, just to give me a tiny dose of the friction I crave. “Upstairs.” Dominic’s order is more growl than word and it just does me in. This man is the sexiest experience of my entire life and I am just undone. I pivot, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, arching my back just enough to make sure he gets a great view of my ass. And then, with a long glance over my shoulder, I strut upstairs, fully intending to undo him the way he’s undone me. There’s no doubt in my mind that he wants me in the bedroom. I head straight in and consider being a good girl and just stand there, waiting for him to tell me what to do next. But when am I ever a good girl? I climb onto my bed on my hands and knees and look over my shoulder at him. What I find makes my insides clench and flutter. He’s got his eyes glued to my ass, his dick in his hand. If lust had a face it would be his. I’ve never felt so beautiful in all my life. After a squeezing his dick in his fist, he tears off his shirt and pulls a condom out of his pants and throws it on the bed. “Did I tell you to get on the bed like that?” he asks as he climbs up behind me. I’m working on an answer when he slaps my ass. I cry out, losing my smartass remark in the pain. It’s hot and it’s red and I moan as it fades, slowly crossing the line into pleasure as he rubs and kisses the spot. He strikes the other cheek, the sound ricocheting around my bedroom and I realize that I’m living the life of a porn star. Kneeling on my bed in my red lace underwear and too tall heels, Dominic’s hand prints blazing to life on each butt cheek, my body humming with need and desire and pleasure and anticipation. Since when did my life become such an adventure? Dominic tugs my panties to the side, doesn’t even bother taking them off. I spread my legs even further as his fingers dip inside me, sliding through my wetness with ease. “You’re always so wet.” “Only for you. You do this to me. I want you more than anything.” There’s a moment of emptiness as his fingers disappear. The sound of a condom being opened. I turn to watch him slide it on because for some reason I love seeing his hands on his dick. I watch as he lifts up off his heels, his cock straining towards me. I watch as he presses himself against me, pushes inside, and finally I feel full. I am whole once again. The rest is oblivion. I am lost to him. Nothing but sensation. Nothing but pleasure. He thrusts himself inside me, grunting and moaning, primal sounds for a primal thing as my soul arcs out of my body and twines with his. I stop thinking and just be. In the moment. His. With him. For us. My muscles flutter and clench and I’m coming so hard, crying out words that

mean I love you and I need you and please take me and keep me and make me yours. He thrusts inside me one final time, shuddering, coming with a long groan that draws goosebumps rippling across my arms and back. When his spasms subside, he kisses my neck and shoulders, pulls out of me, eliciting one more gasp from my open mouth. I collapse and watch him pull off the condom and throw it away. Kick off my shoes as he comes back to me. Wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I always think I know just how much I miss you until I’m finally with you again,” he says, peppering my hairline with kisses. “And then I feel so much better in so many ways that I realize I had no clue how empty I was.” A smile starts in my heart and warms my entire body. “I feel the same. My life is empty without you in it. I just wait, counting minutes until you come home.” He tenses and I realize what I just said. That my apartment was his home. But damn it, he feels like my home. Like I belong with him and the where we are is not important as long as we’re together. I know he feels it too and if he gets all weird because I had the courage to say it then he can just get over himself. What we have isn’t your run of the mill lust-filled attraction stuff. This is boundary breaking, line crossing… I hold my breath, waiting for his response. “I love that you call your arms home,” he says and I finally exhale. “You are my home.” I snuggle in closer so I can hear the rumble of his heart. “I like that.” “Me too.” I kiss his chest and revel in him. His scent. The tickle of his chest hair against my lips. The salt of his sweat. “When can I come with you again? I’ve been saving for plane tickets. I want you in more than just these tiny doses I get between trips. I want more than just your body every couple weeks. I want to be by your side.” The words are out before I have a chance to think twice. They are the most secret part of my soul but the one desire that outweighs every other thing in my life since I came home from Arizona. I want to be with him. Not just because I want to see the world, but because I want him. I am an empty shell while he’s gone and a better version of myself when he’s here. Dominic pushes up on an elbow and there is a thunderstorm of things unsaid in his gaze. His eyebrows draw together. “The last time I brought you with me, I almost lost you.” That is so not the answer I expected. “I’m right here.” “But you almost weren’t. When you fell…” Dominic shakes his head, his eyes a million miles away. “My heart shattered. I had been afraid to let myself love you, but as you slipped over the edge, I realized that I already did. And I can’t lose anyone else.” He swallows, seeing ghosts. “I can’t have another hole in my heart.” I push up on my elbow and put a hand to his face. “But the whole time you’re gone? There’s a hole in my heart. I can’t live like this. I was drowning here before I

knew what it was to have you in my life. Now? I am…” I struggle for words, stunned to be having this conversation. “Less.” That’s all I have. The best way to describe the dimming of my life when he’s gone. Sure, I’m more than capable of supporting myself. Of standing on my own two feet. But everything is less than I remember it when he’s not with me. I want to experience life with him because everything is better that way. “You’re safe here.” Dominic smiles like that makes everything better. Like I’m just going to say oh, well in that case, I’ll just wait here for you to pop in every now and then and everything is fine. “I’m dying here.” “No. You almost died out there. What’s going to hurt you in Townsbury.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest because suddenly I don’t feel comfortable being exposed to him. “You are, apparently.” “Dakota…” Dominic sits up. Puts a hand to my cheek. “It’s better this way.” “For who? You? Or me? Because let me tell you something. I am not better this way. I live my life on hold, waiting for these days with you…” I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. Begging him to see what he’s saying and what I’m saying and how they aren’t meeting in the middle. “Is this all there is for us? Me waiting for you while you live life and I tolerate it?” “I can’t risk you getting hurt.” “I’m hurting here.” “You’re alive here.” “That’s up for debate.” Is this really happening? Are we really sitting in my bed, coming to the hard realization that I am little more than a trophy? Up on a pedestal? Only to be looked at sometimes? When it’s convenient? “I love you,” he says, sitting up and scooting closer to me. His hands are on my face. In my hair. His eyes are desperate. “I love you so much.” “I love you, too. But I can’t rot here. Can’t spend my life waiting for you. And I would think that if you really loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to.” Dominic doesn’t say anything but there’s a war going on behind his eyes. Love and fear and sadness all battling it out, plain as day. He reaches out and pulls me towards him, wraps me up in his arm and I breathe him in. I wait for that feeling of calmness to override the anxiety swarming in my heart but it never does. For the first time since I met him, it feels like Dominic and I are heading in different directions, that we’re not on the same path after all. I want to cry but I can’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“SO WHEN ARE you seeing him again?” Maya is tucked up into the corner of my couch, her eyes full of worry. “I don’t know. He has a gig in Wyoming. He wasn’t super talkative when he left.” Chelsea pats my knee. I cringe, waiting for the great big I told you so that I know she’s been holding in since she got here. “I’m really sorry,” she says and the look in her eyes tells me she means it. I blink. Flabbergasted. “Go ahead, say all the things you want to say. I’m ready to hear it. You were right and I was wrong. I need a guy with a job and a house and responsibilities. Someone who is rooted in one place. Someone who will do the right thing.” Even as I say it I feel myself fade to black and white. All the color draining from my soul. Chelsea sighs. “I mean, I want to say I told you so, but I just can’t. I honestly thought Dominic was right for you.” And somehow, those words hurt more than the ones I prepared myself for. I crumple into her, tears stinging my eyes. She runs a hand through my hair, shushing me like she did when we were little and I had a scrape on my knee that could only mean I was dying. I kind of feel like dying now. Like I’m shriveling up inside into something old and brittle. “How could he say he loves me and then leave me?” I ask Chelsea’s shoulder.

“Maybe he’s not gone,” Maya says as if that explains it all. I sit up and look at her like I’m begging her to make it all better. “He’s certainly not here now.” “No, but maybe he’ll be back.” “I don’t want that.” I’m wailing. Throwing a temper tantrum. Letting loose all the emotion I bottled up while he was here. “I want to be at his side. Seeing the world. Holding his hand. It does me no good to be here when he’s there. I can’t live my life waiting for him.” Chelsea pulls me back into her, shushing me again. “Of course you can’t.” Maya shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. He’s lost people before, right?” I nod, not at all embarrassed to admit that I shared his secrets with my sisters when my heart was breaking in two. Okay, that’s not true. I’m mortified that I told his story without permission, but that will be a bridge we have to cross when we come to it. If we come to it. Right now I’m afraid that we’re fresh out of bridges. “Think about it, Dakota. How must he have felt when you fell off that path? When he looked down and saw you all broken and he couldn’t do anything to help you?” “I’m sure he felt awful.” “But really think. Put yourself in his shoes. Twice before he lost someone he loved, right?” She waits for me to nod before she continues. “And if he is really the same as you, someone who feels big emotions, think how those losses must feel to him. How scary it is to let someone else inside. Maybe he just needs to work through all that before he knows what to do.” “Or maybe I just got myself wrapped up with the wrong person again.” I’m not in the mood to cut Dominic any slack. I’m in the mood to throw a great big pity party and get all the love and attention I can for my poor scraped up heart. Maya shrugs. “Maybe.” I can tell she doesn’t believe it, and for some reason that gives me hope. Can I give him time to figure out what he wants? Can I sit here with my banged up heart, living this colorless existence, and wait for him to decide if he’s strong enough to fit me into his life? All I’ve got right now is a great big maybe. I know that if he can’t heal the wounds on his heart enough to have me by his side, then I can’t be with him. And I know that if I can’t be with him, I will shrivel up inside. “I should have listened to you guys from the get go.” I’m whining into Chelsea’s shoulder. She pushes me up. “You know what?” she asks, finally wearing her Big Sister Voice. “No. You were right not to listen to us.” “Huh?” This may be the first time Chelsea has ever admitted to me being right about anything. “Do you love him?” “Totally.”

“Have you ever loved anyone like this before?” “Never. He has changed my life.” “So, how could that be bad?” Chelsea scooches off the couch and kneels in front of me. “I have never ever loved someone like you love him. What do they say? It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” Tears fall from my eyes and I shake my head, wiping them away. “That’s just what the people who haven’t felt like this say because they don’t understand. I hurt like I’ve never hurt before.” “But love is like that, isn’t it?” Maya asks from her place on the couch. “Pleasure so intense it blends right into pain. Imagine what he’s feeling right now.” I look at those big, dark eyes of hers and think of Dominic’s and somehow that soothes me and sets me off again all at the same time. I want him because he’ll make me feel better and I can’t have him because he might not want me and that just makes me feel worse. My thoughts of him, even the most beautiful, happy memories of our time together, are jagged. They prick at me and I just live on that line between pleasure and pain. Loving him so much it hurts. My sisters stay with me until I manage to trick us all into thinking I might be okay. As they’re standing to go, I’m laughing at their jokes and starting to think it might all end up okay. That this is just a hiccup on our path, not a divergence. Not the end. I hug them and I thank them and hug them and thank them again. “You guys are the best,” I say, waving from my doorway. “We know!” they call back in unison, blowing kisses at me. I pour myself a shot of whiskey in my Grand Canyon shot glass. Throw it back and imagine I’m kissing him, tasting the whiskey from his tongue. Maybe, just maybe, I can give him time and space to work through all this. And maybe, just maybe, when this is all over I’ll be at his side, holding his hand as we travel the globe. I’ll be smiling too wide, filled with every color imaginable. Maybe this pain right now is just the price of admission. I head upstairs and curl up in bed, where his scent is still on my pillow. Where I still remember the way he looked, those dark eyes staring up at me. I feel surrounded by him and he isn’t even here. His taste in my mouth. His scent in my nose. His name in my heart. Needing him, I grab my phone and open up Instagram, moving on instinct to his profile. My heart soars when it sees his face and then falls to the ground at the very next picture. It’s almost the exact same picture he took of us that first night we met. The one where he’s smiling and I’m staring and it might be the first time I felt beautiful. Except that’s not me with him. It’s another woman. And he’s not smiling at the camera, he’s staring at her. His eyes dark and hungry. A look that I thought was mine is now hers. Numb, I scroll through the comments. A swell of virtual high fives, referencing some video on his channel. Even though my heart is screaming that it’s already had

enough, I click on over to YouTube and find the newest upload. It’s him, with that woman who must also be a bartender. It’s our video, but with different actors. The crowd cheering him on as he sets up a trick. The woman all coy and flirty, totally melting under his gaze. She doesn’t figure it out and somehow I know that it’s because she actually doesn’t know how. The crowd loses its mind when she concedes and he pulls her close. He doesn’t kiss her, but his eyes are devouring her. I drop my phone like it burned me. Storm downstairs and pace the living room. I want a drink. I want to call him. I want to throw something. My hands are fists and my jaw is a vise and my heart is still upstairs, sobbing in the bedroom. I pour myself another drink. Vodka this time. But it still tastes like whiskey because I never rinsed out the shot glass. With his taste in my mouth and tears in my eyes, I race upstairs and pick up my phone. Fuck you, Dominic Kane. I send the text, hands shaking. Heart racing. Life shattering and falling to my feet like shards of broken glass scraping against me, biting into my skin. Phone in hand, I pace my living room. Scream into a pillow. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m waiting for a reply. An explanation. A chance to scream at him. I never get one because he never replies.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EVEN MY SISTERS ARE BROKEN HEARTED. BECAUSE THEY FELL FOR IT, TOO. THEY THOUGHT, LIKE I thought, that I found a love that transcends all other loves. That I found a soulmate. That we would be the kind of couple that inspired books and movies and who lived happily ever after in a world that doesn’t believe in that anymore. Turns out, I just met a creep who’s really good at selling himself. And I’m the idiot who fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I’ve got the scars to prove it, scattered across my heart and my bones. I wait for a reply for days. Nothing. I unfollow him on Instagram. Even remove it from my phone so I can’t accidentally see anything I don’t need to see. I can’t find my smile. My color is gone. I go to work, come home. Sleep. Sometimes I bathe. Most times I cry. The gold rush at The Bad Apple is over. All the attention is on that other bar, with that other woman. The people who come in either don’t know what happened and could care less about me, or they do know and they treat me like I’m fragile. Smiling those tense smiles that never quite reach their eyes. I try to pretend like I’m okay, but there’s just no hiding the fact that I’m not. It’s been a week of no contact. A week of silence. A week of broken heart and tear stained cheeks. A week of sad smiles from strangers and solemn apologies from my sisters. The clock on the wall at The Bad Apple says I still have four more hours before I can go home. Of course, the only difference between here and there is that there’s no one to make me feel worse at my apartment. There aren’t many people here. Jeremy and The Fish are huddled together at the

end of the bar. There’s a few frat kids playing a relatively respectful game of pool in the back. There are a few couples at handful of tables. Conversations are hushed, like the people are afraid to be joyful around me. When the door opens, I can’t help but look, glad for a distraction from the long stretch of nothing I’ve had to do. At first, I can’t process what I see. And then when I do, I don’t understand the rush of emotions that set my hands shaking. Dominic Kane walks towards me, his eyes locked on my face. He steps around the bar and pulls me into him, pressing his lips into mine. He threads his hands up into my hair and for just the briefest of moments I relax into him, my heart finally at ease. After a week of missing him. After a week of sadness and worry, here he is, kissing me like I am his again. But then, in a great whirr of thoughts and indignation, the world catches back up with me and I push him away. “Get the fuck away from me.” The words hiss through clenched teeth. “Dakota—” “Don’t speak to me. Don’t touch me.” I back up, holding out my hands, showing him my palms. After all this time wishing I was with him, here he is and I just want him gone. Out of my sight. Out of my heart and my head. I don’t want to hurt for this man anymore. I don’t want to yearn for him. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep for him. I don’t want to want him. Not if all I am to him is a publicity stunt to further his online fame. A place to stay when he doesn’t have one. A place to put his dick. “I need you to hear me.” “No. You had your chance to be heard when I texted you and you never texted back.” “You mean the time you said ‘fuck you’? That was my chance to be heard?” People are staring now and I really don’t care. Our relationship started with an audience, it can end with one, too. “It certainly didn’t mean just disappear and never say anything.” “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He has a point. One that my heart and soul are begging me to listen to. They are on their knees, hands clasped, pleading with my mind to stop worrying about being right and just pay attention to what he has to say right now. I put my hands on my hips and sigh, lifting my chin and putting on my Small but Bitchy face. Jeremy and The Fish are watching us, their heads pinging back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match. “So speak,” I say, hoping that my eyes are hard and my jaw is set and that’s what he sees rather than the little girl inside me who wants to run into his arms and never leave. “Here?” He gestures to the now totally quiet bar. “This is your chance, Kane.” Dominic sighs. “The pictures and the video were staged Dakota. The whole reason I was in Wyoming was because that bar wanted a publicity stunt just like the one I accidentally did for The Bad Apple.”

“Bullshit.” “It’s not. You can call them and ask them. Hell, you can even ask to talk to the bartender. Her name is Anna. She’s nice.” Rage hits me in the chest. “I have absolutely zero desire to talk to her. And zero reason to believe you. If it was staged, why didn’t you tell me?” “If you love something, set it free.” He looks lost. So hurt and so lost that my heart is begging me to forgive him. “What the hell is it with you people and the dumb quotes?” I run a hand through my hair. “If you’re going to talk to me, at least have the decency to use your own words.” Dominic closes his eyes and sighs—a long heavy breath—and I see the dark circles under his eyes for the first time since he walked in. “Remember the conversation we had the last time I was here?” His eyes dart towards Jeremy and The Fish, he’s begging me not to make him repeat it in front of them. I concede and nod. In fact, I’m really starting to feel like I don’t want this on display any more. “I remember,” I say, the harsh edges in my voice softening. He steps into my personal space and the rest of the world zooms out of focus. It’s just him and me and that’s all that matters. “I thought that if I could make you hate me, then you wouldn’t sit here, missing me. Wishing you could be with me. That I wouldn’t have to worry about you getting hurt or leaving me because you’d be safe here. Like a bird in a cage. But not that at all because I thought if I could just free you from me, then you’d go on and be happy without me.” “I wasn’t. I shattered when I saw those pictures.” “That was the plan.” “What?” My voice cracks. How could he want me to hurt? How could he want me to fall into a million pieces? “You’d get over it. Time and all that. You’d realize that you didn’t need me to be happy and go on living your life without me dragging you across the world and putting you in danger.” “You broke me to save me? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?” “I do. It does. And clearly, it didn’t work. I can’t be without you, Dakota. I need you with me.” He puts a hand on my shoulder and I flinch away. Not only am I not ready for him to touch me, but I don’t think I can stay strong against his touch. “I don’t know if you’ve earned me, Dominic.” “I know for a fact that I haven’t. But I’m here in front of you, begging you to let me have another chance. I didn’t want to lose you because I couldn’t survive without you. But that’s true no matter what. I can’t survive without you. And you being here, possibly moving on, living your life … well … that’s me being without you.” “You’re not making any sense, Dominic.” I’m so confused that I don’t know what to do with myself. “I love you, Dakota London. I thought if I could leave you, make you hate me,

that you would be safe here in Townsbury and would go on living your life, happy and carefree. I thought that just knowing that you were okay would be enough for me and I could survive without a you-sized hole in my heart. But I’m too selfish. And the only time I don’t have a you-sized hole in my heart is when we’re together. So I’m here. Asking you to be with me. To forgive me. To travel the world with me. Let me show you adventure. I’m asking you to let me set you free.” “What?” My head is spinning and my heart crying out. “I don’t want you to set me free. I want to be with you.” Dominic shakes his head and runs a hand up the back of his neck. “I’m doing a terrible job of this. You always wanted to be a bird, free to fly wherever you wanted to go. And you’ve said that this place is a cage. Let me free you from the cage.” I step towards him. “Stop trying to be poetic and tell me what you want.” “You.” He puts his hands on my arms. “I want you.” His eyes soften. “I want you to travel with me. Go where I go and see what I see. We could start a travel blog. You write the articles and I take the pictures and we just go where life takes us. Together.” He moves a hand to my cheek and I lean into it. Everything I’ve ever wanted is standing right in front of me. My dreams handed to me on a platter. I want to say yes to him. I want it more than anything in the whole wide world. “This is crazy,” I say, my words a whisper, my resolve crumbling, my anger dissolved by the look in his eyes. “Love is crazy.” Over Dominic’s shoulder, I see the doors open and Maya and Chelsea come through—they probably have some sort of sisterly rescue plan in mind. Their eyes go straight to us and their jaws drop in unison. I smile and give my focus back to Dominic. “I really fucking love you,” I say. “And I thought I died last week. I’ve never known such pain. I shriveled up into this tiny little cold thing and you have a long way to go before I forgive you.” “But you’ll come with me?” “What about money? A job? How do you even make money off a travel blog?” But my mind is already connecting the dots. I might be able to make a living as a writer. Traveling the world with the man I love the most. I glance over his shoulder and see my sisters, huddled together, smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen them smile. “You write like you were meant for this. And I have connections. And sometimes we’ll have to rough it, but sometimes that’s the best part of the job.” I study him. Can I do this? Can I give up my apartment and my family to travel with this man? Can I set sail on a wish and a dream? Everything inside me is saying yes. “You want me to leave my hometown? My family? A job that pays the bills? And you want me to travel with you? Write about what we see and hope we make enough money to survive?”

He nods. “Yep. I want all of that. And I want one more thing.” I sense my sisters edging closer. “What else do you want?” “You. I want all of you. I want you to be mine. Forever.” Dominic holds out his hand and somehow, out of nowhere, there’s a ring pinched between his fingers, a diamond glinting in the overhead lights of the bars. “I’ve met a lot of people in a lot of different places and never in all my years have I met someone who makes me feel like you do. We aren’t just cut from the same cloth, we’re heading in the same direction and I would be a fool to let a jewel like you slip through my fingers because I’m scared of what would happen if I lost you.” I’m staring at the ring. Mouth open. The whole bar wavers as if I’m underwater as tears well up in my eyes. Dominic gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Dakota? Will you be the one to love me and set me free?” “This is crazy,” I whisper and glance from his hopeful face to where Maya and Chelsea have come up near the bar. They’re grinning like idiots and I realize that I am, too. I look back at Dominic without saying a word. “You’re killing me here,” he says with a pained expression. I laugh and the tears fall. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” My sisters squeal as Dominic slides the ring onto my finger. He swoops me up in a giant hug and swings me around while everyone cheers and claps. “Were you able to get everything ready?” he asks Maya and Chelsea. I turn to him in confusion. “Yep,” says Maya. “It’s all out in the car.” Chelsea grins at me with her biggest older sister smile. “What’s going on?” I ask. “You didn’t make it to Vegas last time. I thought you’d want to go.” Dominic smiles at me, that wide, swoon-worthy smile that makes me shiver. “Now?” “Yep. Want to get married?” “In Vegas?” I’m smiling. “Now?” “As soon as we get there.” “This is crazy.” I look at my sisters who are beaming at me. And then I look at Dominic and my heart melts and my soul starts flying. “So is that a yes?” The look on his face tells me that he knows it is. “Take me to Vegas, baby.” I holler at Big Jake. Tell him I quit. He just shrugs and lumbers his big ass behind the bar and starts taking orders. I hug my sisters and can’t decide if I want to thank them for keeping it a secret or yell at them. In the end, I just squeeze them tight. “Is this right?” I ask them as we huddle in our London sister clump. “Do you even have to ask?” Chelsea smiles down at me. I smile and shrug. “I just need to hear you say it.” “I’ve never seen anything more right in the world. Go. Be with the man you love. Marry him and live your crazy life.” Maya’s nodding her agreement, tears sliding down her cheeks. I hug them both

one last time before tucking myself back into Dominic’s arms. He leads me outside where there’s a car waiting with our bags packed and filling the trunk. He kisses me, slow and sweet, filled with need and longing. “Thanks for being my happily ever after,” he whispers and kisses my forehead. I look up at him, my heart swollen with a love so strong it hurts. “Thank you for being my everything.”

EPILOGUE

VEGAS IS AMAZING. OF COURSE. DOMINIC IS STRONG AND IN CHARGE. GENTLE, YET IN CONTROL. HE knows his way around like he built the place himself and is the best possible tour guide. We get married as soon as we get there. A simple ceremony, just the two of us. No fluff or frills. I’d go into details, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share it just yet. Right now it feels so perfect and wonderful. A secret that is for me and Dominic. Ours. To have and to hold. Til death do us part. I’m sure I’ll be talked into sharing the details at some point. But that will be later. For now, it all belongs to me and Dominic. He has our itinerary for the next couple weeks on a lovely calendar in his laptop. I sent the info on to Maya, Chelsea, and our parents so they would know where I am. My parents were not very pleased about my sudden marriage. Not at all. But I’m happy and so they say that makes them happy and they’ll learn to live with me gallivanting all over the globe with a man that makes me happier than I’ve ever been—even if they haven’t met him yet. Dominic wasn’t kidding about the travel blog. He purchased a domain name while we were in Vegas and posted pictures of the Grand Canyon along with my article. We’ve had so many hits on that post already, I don’t know what to do with myself. It almost looks like I’m really going to get to make a living as an author and that feels amazing. Living the dream? Yes, please! We’re also looking into what it would cost to buy some land around Townsbury or Farmington. Get a few of those shipping containers and build a home for ourselves. Just a little place to keep our stuff in a place where I can visit my family in those moments when we have nowhere to go and don’t feel like roughing it. Of course, that’s a ways off still. And that’s okay because I have him and he has me. We have food on the table—well we would, if we had a table—and really, when you get right down to it, that’s all we’re ever going to need.

THANK you for reading Love Is Crazy by Abby Brooks. You’re a page turn away from your bonus book—Blown Away, The Moore Brothers Book One!

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Copyright © 2016 by Abby Brooks All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum

For Bill. Always for you. And for my grandfather, who served four years on the USS Oriskany during the Korean War. I love you both.

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ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)

CHAPTER ONE

JULIET LANE HAD TO PEE. In fact, she’d had to pee for the last sixty miles or so, but each rest stop she came to seemed more remote than the last, and right now, she wasn’t in the mood for remote. She wanted bright lights and lots of people around. After surviving the last couple months, she wasn’t gonna give yet another asshole a chance to make her his victim. “Isn’t that right, Lulu?” she asked the Yorkshire Terrier in the seat next to her, singsonging happily. “No more dominant jerks for me.” God, it felt good to say that and mean it. Juliet had never been dependent on anyone before, let alone been in a position to be a victim. Enter Michael Phillips, CEO of Tech Lord, the newest, biggest, and best in technology today. Cutting edge tech for those in the know! At least according to the Tech Lord slogan. Michael certainly said it enough, spouting it at every meeting, every press conference, even went so far as to put himself into each new commercial, leaning back in his pretentious leather chair in his office on the bajillionteenth floor of one of the tallest buildings in New York City. The commercial screamed sex and power with Michael’s gray eyes blazing into the camera. His blonde hair impeccably styled. The floor to ceiling windows behind him sparkling with the lights of the city. Panties got wet all across America every time he was on screen, no doubt about it. There’d been a time when she herself melted into a puddle of barely comprehensible woman the moment he looked at her. But that was only at first. Not so much as time went on. And now? Juliet was just glad to have hundreds of miles of highway between her and the city. Between her, Michael Phillips, and his

fashionably twitchy palm. It seemed like every woman in the world was fantasizing about having a superhot billionaire boyfriend who knew what he wanted and took it without asking. Throw in a touch of sadism and a dash of cold and domineering and you’ve got the perfect recipe with which to ‘explore your sexuality.’ Juliet had been excited—okay, beyond excited—when Michael had slid that contract across the boardroom table for her to sign. Her heart had raced as she ticked off her list of hard and soft limits, as they discussed rules and safe words. She’d always liked her sex a little rough and here she was, presented with the chance to really let down her hair and walk on the wild side. Hand control over to someone bigger and stronger than her. Allow him to take her on some marvelous sexual journey. But, life isn't at all like the movies and BDSM isn’t the fun and games pop culture would have her believe. At least not when your partner loses control... Juliet took a long breath and let it out, then checked her mirrors and made herself smile. Positivity was a habit and smiling was the first step. Michael Phillips had no power over her anymore. She’d taken it all back when she packed up her car and left the city. Sitting here worrying about him, going on and on about the past, that was only handing the power right back to him. She’d taken precautions; he’d never find her. Life was hers again and freedom tasted sublime. So what if she didn’t know where she was going? So what if she didn’t have much of a plan? She’d fake it til she made it. Even if that idea scared her to death. Lulu looked at her expectantly, panting in the pool of early spring sunlight that blazed through the passenger window. The little dog probably needed a pit stop even more than Juliet did. “We’ll stop at the very next one,” Juliet promised. Lulu dropped her head to her paws and Juliet checked the rearview mirror one more time. He’s not back there, she chided herself. He’s probably just now figuring out you’re gone and there’s no way he’ll know where you are. He’s rich, but he’s not Batman. She finally found a place to stop and pulled off the highway, stretching as she straightened out of the driver’s seat. Despite the evening hour, heat radiated off her car and the pavement. It’d been cold in the city when she’d left, but she’d gotten far enough south that she’d go so far as to call it hot. She blinked in the bright light and took a deep breath. She’d always wondered what the ocean smelled like, and now she knew. There was salt and fish and something fresh in the air. Juliet smiled, checking one more box off her mental bucket list. Now that she was standing, she really had to pee. Like, so badly it hurt. Juliet cracked a window to keep the car cool for the dog and locked the car door before she waddle-walked as fast as she could into the restroom. Poor little Lulu was just going to have to wait her turn, and heaven help her if she peed in the car. A few minutes later, she rushed back out to the parking lot, eager for the briny coastal air to replace the strong scent of rural rest stop bathroom. Another car had pulled in while she was inside, a giant boat of a Buick, and Juliet slowed down to study the

driver. Of course it wasn’t Michael. He’d never drive a Buick. Hell, if he did find her, he’d probably land a helicopter at her feet, the wind plastering the grass to the ground, blowing the leaves on the palm trees into great churning fans, tailored suit and designer tie flapping as he walked towards her, those sexy gray eyes gleaming in anticipation of how he was going to make her scream as soon as they got behind closed doors... Juliet shuddered. Not another thought, she told herself. He doesn’t deserve one. more. thought. She got to her car and opened the door, leaned over the driver’s seat and reached into the back for Lulu’s leash while a tiny old woman heaved the door shut on the Buick and lumbered off towards the bathrooms. As Julz dug through the few boxes she’d packed, looking for the now AWOL leash, another car pulled in beside the Buick. This one was sleek and expensive and gleamed in the evening sun. That was a power-mobile if she’d ever seen one and she didn’t have to see the driver to know he had something to prove. Probably a class-A jerk. Juliet rolled her eyes and pushed the rest of her small frame as far into the back seat as possible. “I’m sorry, babe,” she said as Lulu put her paws on Juliet’s back. “That silly leash is just gone.” She pushed one more time, her ass now fully in the air, and found the leash where it had fallen on the floor behind her seat. With a triumphant little “aha!, Juliet wriggled back into the front seat in time to see the old woman stumble and fall against the curb. With a gasp, Juliet threw open the door and raced to help. Lulu bolted out of the car after her, passed her without a backwards glance, and then just kept right on running towards the line of palm trees on a hill that blocked the view of the beach. “Lulu!” she screamed, crouching at the old woman’s side as she struggled into a sitting position. “Are you alright?” Julz tried to split her attention between the woman and her dog. “Nothing hurt but my pride, I ‘spect.” Juliet offered the woman a hand, watching as her little dog just got smaller and smaller, her tiny little legs eating up the ground at her feet. “Lulu!” “Getcher dog,” said the woman with a smile. “I’m tougher’n I look.” Eyes on Lulu—who’d now started running in circles, barking at something that caught her attention in the grass,—Julz kept a hold on the woman until she was on her feet and stable. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I’m old. I just fell in front of a stranger. I’m as okay as I’ll ever be.” The old woman smiled again and waved her away. “Now go get yer dog ‘fore she goes for a swim.” Lulu had disappeared behind the row of palm trees. After one last look at the woman to make sure she was stable, Juliet took off, calling after Lulu. The panic she’d tried to keep at bay finally rose into her throat and tears pricked the corner of her eyes. If she lost Lulu, she might lose her mind. That little dog was one of the few things she still had from her pre-Michael Phillips life. One of the few things she’d actually let herself love and the only thing that's

ever really loved her back. Please let her come back. Please let her come back. Please. And then, a man stepped out from the row of palm trees, holding a happy Lulu, who wriggled in his arms, trying to lick his face. A man in a tux, with expensive written on just about everything about him from his haircut, to his tie, to his pants, to his shoes. Juliet slowed and studied him as he walked up to her, a huge grin on his face. His ridiculously handsome face. Holy shit, his almost completely perfect face. This man should have a theme song playing in the background, what with the sun illuminating his dark hair and broad shoulders, the warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, all while he strode towards Juliet in slow motion, after having rescued her escaped dog. “Lose something?” he asked in a rich baritone, eyes gleaming. Close your mouth, Julz. Say something. Mr. Handsome held Lulu out for her to take and she couldn’t help but notice his wickedly expensive watch poking out from behind a pair of French cuffs and engraved cufflinks. Everything about this man screamed high-powered and successful. Well, everything except for the fact that he was at a nearly abandoned rest stop out in the middle of Nowhere, South Carolina. “Thank you,” she said, cradling Lulu to her chest and trying not to stare as he ran a hand through his thick, so-brown-it’s-almost-black hair. Clearly, Lulu had made it all the way to the beach because the man had little flecks of light brown sand all over his black tux. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, brushing at the sand without thinking, and then pausing as she recognized the hard muscles of a well-defined chest underneath. He must do about a thousand pushups a day! She flushed and yanked her hand away before looking up to meet his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.” The man brushed at the sand, unbuttoned the jacket and slid it off his shoulders. “It’ll shake right out. Besides,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows and a sexy little quirk of his lips, “just wait until you see how much sand is in my shoes.” He looked down and she followed his gaze, her heart wrenching at the mess of sand caked around the laces. Nervous, Juliet laughed a little. Who was this guy? She’d spent a lot of time around the kind of men who could afford the things Mr. Handsome had and not one of them would ever be described as easygoing. And this guy? So far she’d have to call him easygoing. This almost felt like a trap. “Well, thank you again.” She nuzzled Lulu and smiled over the little dog’s ears at the man. “It’s the least I could do, considering you were busy being a hero yourself,” he said, looking over her shoulder towards the woman and her Buick. Juliet whirled, suddenly afraid the old lady had collapsed after she’d left her to run after Lulu. The Buick was there, but the old woman was not, so she was either on the ground on the other side of the monstrous car, or she’d made her way into the restroom. “Was she alright?”

“Hmmm?” Juliet dragged her eyes back to Mr. Handsome. “The woman who fell. She okay?” The man arched an eyebrow and gifted Juliet with another magnificent smile before he started walking back towards the cars. Julz followed. “I think so. She said she was okay. I probably should have stayed, I just really…” Was it shallow of her to admit that she cared more about finding her dog than staying to make sure the old woman was really alright? “I’m impressed you stopped to help her in the first place. A lesser woman would have run off after, what was it? Lulu?” He hit Juliet with a questioning look and she nodded. “If she said she’s fine, I’m sure she meant it.” They reached the edge of the grass and paused. Juliet shook her hair back over her shoulders. “Thanks again. Like, lots of thanks. All the gratitude I can muster,” she said. Great, Julz. Very articulate. Way to show off that sharp mind. “I might have lost it if I lost her.” “No worries. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go remove most of the beach from my shoes.” He gave her a wink and her stomach fluttered a little as he turned and walked away. What the hell was that all about? You’ve sworn off men, remember? Especially that kind of man. No more high-octane, commanding, take what they want kind of guys. You're leaving that life behind. Starting over. Keeping it small and simple and easy. Despite all the well-meaning thoughts in her head, it took longer than she’d like to admit to get her eyes off Mr. Handsome’s ass as he sauntered into the men’s room. And as much as she hoped—and chastised herself for that hope—that he’d look back, he never did.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER RETRIEVING Lulu’s leash and giving her a chance to go potty, Julz got out the directions she'd printed off from MapQuest and a map of South Carolina, and spread them out on the hood of the car. The map was new; she’d grabbed it at a gas station shortly after crossing the North Carolina state line. It only took about four hours of being lost in the hills of Virginia to learn that the MapQuest directions weren’t exactly accurate. As soon as she’d gotten herself back on track, she’d stopped and bought a map. How did people live like this before cell phones? Without a GPS and Google? Were they just constantly lost and confused? She peered down at the map and compared it to the MapQuest directions she’d printed out at the library the day she’d decided to make a run for it. The day she’d just ran her finger down the map of the east coast and settled on a city based on the name alone. Bliss. How could she not want to live in a little coastal town named Bliss? The moment her index finger crossed over the name, she’d known that’s where she was heading. She’d returned home ... well ... to Michael’s home. He’d made it more than clear that she lived there because he let her, and she didn’t own a single thing in the posh penthouse. She’d left the smartphone he’d given her on the kitchen counter where he'd be sure to find it. Wandered into the bedroom to pack and realized that she didn’t have much of anything that he hadn’t bought for her. She dug through the closet and threw what remained of her pre-Michael wardrobe in a bag. Grabbed the houseplant she’d brought with her from her old apartment and her old dishes and silverware that never got unpacked because Michael wouldn’t deign to eat off them.

Then she tossed it all in her car and took off before she had time to talk herself out of it. “No service?” Julz jumped and spun, knocking the papers off the car. The heavy map hit the pavement with a thwack while the printouts seesawed their way out into the parking lot. “Sorry,” she yelped as she dropped to the ground and gathered the papers into her arms and came face to face with a pair of now sand-less black shoes. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” said Mr. Handsome Dog Hero Man as he bent down and helped her up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” “Sorry,” Julz said again. “Just jumpy.” Stop apologizing, she told herself. Next thing you know you’ll be calling him Sir. ‘Cause that wouldn’t be weird. He lifted a finger and put on a serious face. “No more sorry’s, understood?” Juliet’s heart sunk into her stomach, did a little dance there, and then both heart and stomach held hands and sunk to her feet together. She opened her mouth, but then clamped down on the apology that threatened to come out. Mr. Handsome’s face softened. “Hey,” he said, lifting his hands and showing his palms. “Just playing around.” “Oh.” Juliet buried the splash of fear behind what she hoped was a playful smile. “Well in that case, I’m sorry.” She made a silly little face and hoped he got the joke. Mr. Handsome laughed and she immediately wanted to make him laugh again. “So, my little old fashioned traveler, where are you headed?” She looked down at the mess of papers in her arms and went to work straightening them and then spreading them out on the hood of the car again. “A little town named Bliss. I think I must be close.” Surprise danced in his eyes. “I’m from Bliss.” She let her eyes travel over his whole body, from his expensive haircut, to his tux, to his fancy watch and shoes so shiny she could check her makeup in them. “Maybe it’s not as small as I thought it was.” His eyebrows scrunched together in the most adorable confused face Juliet had ever seen. And then he laughed again and she couldn’t help but smile, too. “You mean the tux?” He waved his hand down his body and actually turned in a circle for her to see the whole thing. “Pretty sharp, isn’t it?” “Snazzy, indeed.” “I’m heading to an engagement party.” Her face fell and he hurried on. “For my brother.” And then he looked kind of embarrassed, which was also adorable. “So am I close? To Bliss?” If she’d had any doubts about having picked the right town, they just flew out the window knowing that Mr. Handsome called the place home, too. Now stop it. No men. Remember? “It’s about half an hour or so south.” He took his phone out of his inside jacket pocket and opened up Google Maps. Using his fingers, he zoomed in and out until he could get both their location and Bliss on the screen at the same time. Then,

being perfectly chivalrous, he checked her MapQuest directions and added some landmarks for her in the margin before tracing her route on the map. “That should get you there just in case you don’t come back into range for your phone to work,” he said and she didn’t bother to tell him that she was so far out of range from her phone that she’d never get to use it again, given that it was still on Michael’s kitchen counter and all. “Are there any good extended stay hotels there?” she asked, gathering the papers off the hood of the car. “In Bliss? I thought we just covered the fact that this is a small town.” “So, no extended stays?” Damn! Now what? she thought, totally aware that she actually sagged with disappointment in a nearly perfect Eeyore impersonation. “Not a one.” “Please tell me there’s at least a hotel. I’ve got my heart set on Bliss.” “There’s only one I’d feel comfortable suggesting to you. I’m pretty sure it’s got rooms with kitchenettes, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Juliet beamed. “Perfect.” Mr. Handsome smiled and took the map from her arms, his fingers brushing against hers. She bit her lip as he bent to make another note, marking the hotel on the map and jotting down the name. He finished what he was doing and studied her for a minute, considering something before taking a tentative breath. “Believe me when I say that I’m not trying to take advantage of a damsel in distress,” he said with a self-deprecating grimace, “but I own some rental properties on the beach. If you need more of a long term solution…” he trailed off and handed her the map back. Juliet’s heart leaped. Beachfront properties? Yes, please! He was only talking about one of her lifelong dreams. She could just imagine it, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean, waking up and tasting salt in the air. Watching the sun rise over the sea, light glinting and glittering off the water. Lazy days spent digging her toes into the sand while the sun thawed her frozen heart. But there’s no way she could afford it. She’d cleaned out her meager savings and had all four grand of it in an envelope in her purse. And, since she was trying to be untraceable until she knew if Michael was more of the cold-and-sadistic brand of bad guy rather than the crazy-stalk-you-and-kill-you type, she wasn’t going to open a bank account. She really didn’t want to ask this guy if he’d take cash. Probably make him think she was a criminal or something. “That sounds amazing, but I’m sure I couldn’t afford it. Maybe it’s something I can keep in mind for when I’m more established.” “Hey, it was a long shot. Just didn’t want to leave a pretty woman all stranded and homeless when I have homes to offer.” He reached into his pocket again and brought out a card. “Call me if you change your mind. Or if you find yourself in need of anything.” She took the card, purposefully brushing her finger against his just because she liked the way it felt. The little flicker in his eyes told her he liked it too. Stop it. Stop flirting. This guy is everything you don’t need.

And now they were just standing there in the middle of the most awkward silence ever. What was she supposed to say? She glanced at the card, expecting to find the name of his company, but the only thing written on it was his name. “Ian Moore,” she read as she flipped the card over and found his phone number and email on the back. Nothing else. How perfectly mysterious. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She used her formal voice and extended a hand, the business card somehow switching on her inner New Yorker. He noticed the change and straightened, took her hand in a very alpha male, his-hand-on-top type grasp. “The pleasure is mine, Miss…?” Somehow, he managed to make powerful so very appealing, the little glimmer of a smile in his eyes softening the whole dominant male thing. “Lane. Juliet Lane.” Ian checked his watch and shook his head. “I’m now officially late for my brother’s engagement party and my sister will never let me live it down.” Julz started to apologize and Ian held up his hand. “Stop. No more apologizing.” And then he slid one eye closed in the most captivating wink Juliet had ever seen. “It’s all good. I get a kick out of annoying my sister. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Juliet Lane.” And with that, Ian hopped into his car and pulled out of the parking space, gave her a sharp little salute, hit the gas and zoomed out onto the road. As soon as he was out of sight, Juliet let out a long breath through pursed lips and shook her head. “I don’t know if I should be mad at you or if I should thank you,” she said to Lulu as she buckled herself back into the driver’s seat. “That man is absolutely perfect, and just about everything I don’t need.” Although, just because I don’t need it, doesn’t mean I can't want it, she thought as she pulled her own car out of the lot and hit the highway. She drove the rest of the way, following Ian’s directions, daydreaming of sunrises and new beginnings. After so many years in the city, living in a constant state of rush, rush, rush and late, late, late, the thought of leaving all that behind and starting over was decadent. She’d fought hard throughout college to stay at the top of her class. And when she graduated, she worked hard to stand out amongst her peers. And when luck came her way, she was prepared for it. Or at least that’s what everyone said when she’d gotten the job offer to be Michael Phillips’ admin with almost no applicable experience on her resume. She had to wonder what they’d think now, if they knew about the whole whips and chains thing. The whole ‘yes, Sir, if it pleases you, Sir’ life she’d been living for the past couple months. Would they still call her lucky? She doubted she’d ever get to find out. Her dad was busy loving his other family. Her mom was busy focusing on herself. And her step dad never did anything to earn that title other than marry her mom. Plus, there was the whole non-disclosure clause she’d signed in the contract Michael had presented her that day in the boardroom. The one she’d signed almost gleefully. Ugh.

Enough is enough already. She’d put those days behind the moment she’d packed up her car and walked out the door. No more looking back. No more being afraid. And for god’s sake, no more getting involved with men who were used to getting their own way! Even if they were rich, handsome, dog saving heroes.

CHAPTER THREE

EVERYTHING ABOUT JULIET LANE told Ian she was bad news. From the hastily packed boxes in her back seat, to the houseplant spilling over on the floor behind the passenger seat, to the fucking MapQuest directions to a town she’d never been to and didn’t even bother to check as to whether or not it had the kind of hotels she needed. Who used MapQuest anymore? The kind of woman who named her dog Lulu, that’s who. So what if she had gorgeous dark hair and sultry brown eyes? So what if she had long, lean legs that would look fan-fucking-tastic wrapped around his hips? So what if she had the perfect combination of confident directness and blushing selfconsciousness? The girl clearly was a long way from having her shit together and Ian was all kinds of done with those kinds of girls. Fucking Lulu. Ian shook his head and laughed, remembering Juliet’s sexy little body leaning over the fallen woman as her dog took off like a bat out of hell and his dick twitched in his pants as he remembered how great her ass looked in her shorts. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He was now officially Very Late to James’s engagement party and their sister, Lilah, was sure to be losing her fucking mind. The last thing he needed was to arrive with a hard on he couldn’t get rid of.

With effort, he put Juliet out of his head and finished the drive to his parents’ beach house without giving her another thought. Lilah had really outdone herself this time. The normally inviting Moore family home was even more so after Lilah had her way with it. Paper lanterns that were just beginning to shine in the falling twilight lined the driveway. Strings of white lights swooped from palm tree to palm tree. Flower arrangements lined the walks. Ian parked his car and followed the gentle murmur of conversation around back to where the guests were gathered in one of several large white tents. Lights and candles flickered everywhere, dancing in the mild breeze coming off the ocean. There was even a string quartet set up on the back porch of the house, playing sweet music that mingled delicately with the many conversations coming from the multitude of guests. Lilah sure knew how to put their parents’ money to use. Speaking of Lilah, there she was, striding up to Ian in heels so high he didn’t know how she didn’t fall right over. “Where the hell have you been, Lieutenant Moore?” She clutched his elbow and pulled him towards the giant table she had set up for the wedding party at the front of the main tent. She had to be pissed; she only used his naval rank when she wanted to sound tough. “It’s time for the toast and you better thank your lucky stars you weren’t late enough to miss that.” “You look very nice, Lilah,” said Ian, ignoring her bad mood. “Red is a lovely color on you.” “You can suck up all you want, big brother, but you’re still in trouble.” Lilah pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile, and deposited him at his seat next to James. “You better have a speech prepared.” She raised one delicate blonde eyebrow and Ian considered telling her he had no idea what she was talking about. One look at the tension in her little bird shoulders and Ian decided that sending Lilah into cardiac arrest wasn’t exactly the best way to show his brother how happy he was for him regarding his impending marriage. He patted his chest pocket. “Right here,” he said, and reached inside his jacket to pull out his notes. Lilah finally took a breath and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You like being the hero too much.” “And you like being the boss too much.” She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You better believe I like being the boss.” And then in a great swirl of perfume and evening gown, she swept down the table, picked up her champagne glass and struck her fork lightly against it. The ringing sound carried out over the gathered crowd and everyone quieted down, turning expectantly towards Lilah. Even the string quartet softened their music and expertly switched to a rich, romantic theme, perfect for a toast from a loving older brother. Lilah had this party planned down to every last detail. “Excuse me,” she called, her blonde hair glistening under the lights. “I’d like to thank you all for coming to celebrate my brother James finally getting serious enough to ask Erin to marry him.” She paused for the light laughter that followed, everyone either knowing the Moore family well enough to know that James and

Erin had dated since middle school and lived together since graduation, or being polite enough to know when to laugh when appropriate. Lilah went on, expertly warming up the crowd with her introduction and stories and Ian studied the people who’d gathered here at his parents’ home to celebrate his brother’s engagement. He saw designer dresses and tuxedos, cultured smiles and manicured hands. He saw jewels and watches and tasteful hair. But none of it held a candle to what he’d seen in Juliet Lane. Sure, she was a little unkempt. Her brown hair long and lose. Her life packed into the back of an old Hyundai. But her beauty outweighed all the high polished socialites he saw here tonight. And the more he thought about it, the more he started to think she had to be running from something. That she was in danger and might be in need of help. Why else would she be on her way to a town she'd never been to before? With enough boxes to suggest she meant to be here awhile, but not enough to actually be moving in? He thought maybe he’d stop by the hotel he’d suggested to her tomorrow and see how she was getting on. Or maybe not. Because he wasn’t supposed to be wasting his time on fluffy-headed little girls anymore. Or, for that matter, overly independent, high-powered bitches were off the table, too. He’d had enough of both. He needed a woman with substance, a woman who needed him but didn’t use him. A woman who could think for herself, but included him in her decisions. A woman who liked to fuck as much as she liked to make love. Because there were differences there. Very important differences. Ian imagined Juliet’s wrists clamped in his hand, pinned over her head as he thrust himself deep inside her. Would she like it? Would she beg for more? What about when he slapped her ass ? Would her eyes go all wide? Would she get wet? Or would she wriggle out of his grasp and run away, unable to deal with his darker side? His dick twitched in his pants again and he adjusted himself under the table while Lilah finished up her introductions and got ready to introduce him as James’s big brother and best man. Great. Perfect fucking timing. He let his eyes roam the guests one last time until he found Vi, a particularly frosty ex-girlfriend. That did the trick. Ian had never been less turned on in his life than when he stood up to give his speech, smiling at the light applause and clinking glasses. “Lilah’s right. It’s about damn time James got serious and asked Erin to marry him. God knows she’s been patient enough, waiting for him to come to his senses over the last ten years.” He paused while laughter threaded itself into the sweet song of the string quartet. “But in all seriousness, I envy James. Envy the love he has for Erin. The constancy of their relationship. The trust and friendship they share. I know they’ve made each other happy for more than a decade and I wish them many decades of happiness to come.” He smiled down the table at his brother who beamed at his fiancée. Ian meant what he said. He truly did envy them. And maybe one day, if he ever found someone whose head wasn’t filled with cotton candy or who wasn’t a total bitch, he’d give

Lilah the chance to throw another party. He looked down at the speech he’d prepared and realized he’d already said all that mattered, all the rest was redundant and pretentious. “To James and Erin!” he finished, and took a long drink of his champagne while the rest of the guests echoed him. Ian sat down as Harrison—the youngest Moore sibling—stood up to make his own, less serious, toast. Ian only half listened as he scanned the crowd and found half the women eyeing him like they’d just found something rare and exciting. Lilah would be sure to have him in the arms of about fifteen eligible bachelorettes before the evening was over. In fact, now that Harry had finished his speech and a slew of waiters were winding their way through the tables, depositing plates of food in front of guests with efficient flourishes, Lilah stood and made her way back down to whisper in Ian’s ear. “Your speech was lovely. You made Mom cry, dad smile, and James couldn’t be happier. Sorry I got a little … err … stressed.” “Is that what you call it? Stressed? Because I have a different name for it.” Lilah pouted. “Shush, you.” She scanned the guests, all making happy little exclamations over their dinner. “You know you can have your pick of the single women here tonight after what you just said. Probably some of the married ones too. Very smart.” Ian grimaced. If Lilah thought his speech was designed to get him into some unsuspecting woman’s panties, he wasn’t going to bother to correct her. “Whatever you say, little sister.” She patted his shoulder and went back to her seat while Ian studied the food on the plate in front of him. He’d meant what he said about envying James and Erin. But he also wasn’t interested in having any of that kind of relationship with just anyone. He lifted his gaze from his plate and let his eyes wander around the women who were busy eyeing him and came up with a great big no thank you. Maybe, as crazy as it sounded, he really would go check up on Juliet Lane in the morning.

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you don’t allow dogs?” Juliet knew it was a stupid question, but after driving since before the sun even started to think about coming up and finally making it to Bliss as the sun was going down, and realizing the little town was truly everything she ever wanted, she couldn’t believe that she wasn’t going to have a place to stay. “I don’t think I can be much clearer, ma’am,” drawled the heavy set man behind the counter. “Couldn’t you just make an exception, just the once, Bobby?” Julz asked, reading the man’s name off his nametag. “I literally have nowhere else to go.” Bobby wrapped his arms over his considerable girth and shook his head. “I don’t make the rules, I just get fired if I don’t follow ‘em.” “And you’re sure there aren’t any other hotels in the area?” Bobby raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Bliss doesn’t warrant having one hotel, let alone options.” Juliet thanked Bobby for his help, even if he was kind of a jerk. Cursing herself for even bringing Lulu inside with her in the first place, Julz left the little hotel and stood on the sidewalk out front. Now what? Here she was, heart set on staying in Bliss, and she was all alone with nowhere to go and nightfall just around the corner. Well, she knew one thing for sure, she hadn’t made it this far only to be stopped from seeing the ocean. Maybe she’d get some great dose of inspiration on how to solve her problem, sitting out on the beach, watching the vastness of water and sky, lulled towards relaxation by the rhythm of the waves.

Or something like that. She plopped down in the driver’s seat with a dejected sigh and deposited Lulu on the seat beside her. All she knew was that the ocean was somewhere to her left, so using this as a chance to learn more about Bliss, she took off in that general direction. Twisting and turning through the streets only solidified the fact that this is where she wanted to be. The shops were quaint and well cared for, the streets were clean and actually drivable. Julz even saw a woman wave to a friend on her way out of a bookstore and stop for a conversation. As if that would ever happen on the streets of New York! Before too long, she found the beach and a place to park. Humming to herself, she grabbed a blanket and some food, clipped Lulu’s leash to her collar, and started off trudging through the sand. She only made it a few steps before she stopped and took off her sandals because she was slipping and sliding all over the place in them. Wind rustled in her hair and warm sand tickled in between her toes. So what if she was homeless? At least she was here. Right? Of course. No doubt about it. So what if she’d never really done anything without planning it out to the fullest before? So what if she was going to have to sleep in her car? She was free from Michael. She was about to build a life near the ocean, something she’d always wanted. And she was pretty damn smart and resourceful. So, maybe things looked bad right now, but that only meant they’d have to get better from here. Right? She spread her blanket on the ground and sat down, opened some of the snack food she’d grabbed from the car, and she couldn’t keep herself from grinning as she let her gaze focus out on the spot where the sky kissed the water. It felt like after years of being a round peg in the square hole that was New York City, she was finally in the place she belonged. Which was silly and irresponsible and totally based on nothing other than instinct since she’d been in Bliss for all of half an hour and hadn’t met a single person, yet. Well, other than Ian Moore. “Except I’m not supposed to be thinking about Ian, right Lulu?” Lulu just stared at the bag of chips in Juliet’s hands and licked her lips. “Even if he is totally lick worthy.” Julz smiled and shared a few chips with Lulu. Then she settled back on her hands and watched the sunset flare across the sky, a triumph of red and gold that faded into pinks and finally purples. As light succumbed to darkness, Julz considered calling her mom with the prepaid phone she’d bought at Walmart somewhere along the way. Just as quickly as she had the idea, she put it out of her mind. Her mom wouldn’t even notice she was gone, at least not for a few more days and her dad didn’t deserve a call. Besides, she didn’t want to connect to her past at all right now.

Things felt shiny and new and safe and … hers. She wasn’t ready to share it or explain it, especially when she didn’t have a place to call home. Except Willow, her best friend since forever, was probably starting to really worry about her. As the only person who knew the truth about Juliet’s relationship with the Tech Lord CEO (non-disclosure clause be damned!), Willow would probably assume Michael had finally gone insane and killed her or something. But if Michael had figured out Julz was missing—and he was sure to have figured that out by now—Willow would be the first person he’d go to. Hell, he’d probably even tap her phone. Luckily, when you’ve had a friend for a lifetime, you develop a few secret codes. Juliet flipped open her prepaid phone and typed out a series of texts. First, she just sent *67 twice. Then she sent her new number one digit at a time. It was a variation of a code they’d developed a long time ago when they tended to get themselves stuck at parties and didn’t want parents to see caller IDs. Figure that out, Michael Phillips. Juliet waited for Willow to find a phone. It shouldn’t take too long, wherever Willow was, she was sure to be surrounded by people. By the time Juliet had gathered her things and trekked back to the car, her phone started buzzing, with the caller ID showing an unknown caller. “Willie?” she answered. “Julz? Where the fuck are you?” Juliet laughed. “If I tell you, you won’t believe me.” “If you say you’re in the hospital, I’ll totally believe you. What did that ass do to you?” “Nothing. I left him.” There was a second of stunned silence on the other end of the phone. “You did?” Willow sounded hopeful. “Yep. Packed up all my old things, left all the pretentious stuff he bought me, and hit the road this morning.” “Where are you?” Juliet trusted Willow with all her heart, but she didn’t trust Michael Phillips. Not even a little. “Far away. Been driving since the middle of the night.” Willow either didn’t notice that Juliet hadn’t told her where she actually was, or didn’t care. “Good for you! I’m so proud of you!” “Yeah, it feels good. Just didn’t want you to worry.” “I was starting to. Thought maybe the dickhead had hurt you for real.” “Well, no worries about that anymore. I’ve taken every precaution I can think of. I don’t think there’s a way he could find me.” “I’ll keep this number safe. Won’t call you from my own phone. Go full on stealth mode and all that jazz.” “Thanks, Willie.” There was some muffled discussion on the other end of the phone and Juliet could hear Willow telling someone off. “Hey,” she said, talking to Julz again. “This jerk wants his phone back. You stay safe and keep me informed, k? When you get

where you’re going, let me know. I’m gonna need to see you.” Juliet said her goodbyes and flipped the phone shut. Crawled into the front seat and curled up after locking all the doors. Part of her couldn’t believe she was going to sleep in her car. The other part found it absolutely thrilling. This was a day of firsts, a day of claiming her life and taking risks. This whole not-having-a-placeto-go thing was just a little bump on the path. Surely, she’d have a bed to curl up in tomorrow. AFTER A NIGHT of sleeping all cramped up in the front seat of a Hyundai, Juliet’s outlook was slightly less cheery. She groaned as her eyes peeled open, the brilliant morning sun cooking her through the window. She was hot, she was sweaty, and her back hurt. Taking only enough time to clip the leash on Lulu’s collar, she lurched out of the car and was greeted with the splendor of a sunrise over the ocean. One deep breath and a huge stretching yawn later and Juliet’s bad mood had begun to evaporate. How could she do anything but smile and sigh in the face of such beauty? All she needed was a cup of coffee in hand and things would be right with the world, for sure. After letting Lulu potty, she rummaged in the back for an energy drink and sighed when she came up empty handed. As much as she hated to start digging into her savings envelope, she couldn’t function on any kind of analytical level until she’d had at least a cup and a half of coffee. She racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d seen a coffee shop anywhere last night and came up with nothing. Guess that gives me another chance to go exploring, she thought as she shook her hair out over her shoulders and tried to run her fingers through the tangles. A chance to change her clothes, brush her teeth, and pull her hair back didn’t sound too bad either. She gathered the items she’d need and shoved them in a bag while she opened the doors and let the inside of the car air out. Her drive through the streets of Bliss reminded her once again how much she was going to love this place. Sure, there were franchise stores here, but there were also a lot of locally owned places, too. The kind of places people put their heart and soul into. She passed up a Starbucks in search of the perfect deli or bakery or coffee shop and was just about to turn around and give up her search when she found a promising little store front at the end of a street. The name over the window? Good Beginnings. You couldn’t get more symbolic than that! Juliet found a place to park and then wondered what to do with Lulu. She couldn’t leave her in the car, not in this heat. Even with the window cracked, she’d worry that her little dog was getting cooked. It’s probably against health codes to bring a pet into a restaurant and sure, plenty of people just tied up their pets in the city while they went inside for a bite, but this is a much smaller town. Who knew what people would think if they came across little Lulu tied to the tree near the street?

With a quick apology to her dog, Julz cracked the windows and gathered her things. She’d go in, use the bathroom to freshen up and change, then bring her order out to eat with Lulu. One more reason to find a place to call home as soon as possible. A night or two in the car was one thing. Totally living out of it while trying to manage a pet was a whole different subject altogether. When she pushed through the door to Good Beginnings, she was confronted with the scent of baking bread and eggs and bacon and all kinds of warm food smells. After twenty-four hours of nothing but pre-package gas station food, Juliet’s stomach lurched in excitement. She rushed through her visit to the restroom, pulling on clean panties and a little white sundress. Ran a brush through her hair and wished she could wash it before pulling it back into a ponytail. And finally, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Feeling much better, she placed an order for a large coffee, two creams, two sugars, and a bacon and egg sandwich on fresh wheat bread. “You must be new around here,” said the curvy brunette behind the counter as Juliet craned her head to see Lulu through the window. “Just got in last night.” Juliet gave the woman a huge smile. “This is a great place,” she said, gesturing around the quickly filling cafe. The woman beamed. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of it.” “This is yours?” Juliet couldn’t keep the pleasure out her voice. This is what she was talking about. This woman was living the dream. Carving out her path and claiming her space and all that. Pouring her heart and soul into her business. “You know it.” The woman extended her hand over the counter. “Ellie Charles, owner and proprietor of Good Beginnings, cafe and coffee.” Juliet took Ellie’s hand and was pleased at the woman’s delicate grip. No domineering man handshake for her, just a sweet little feminine thing. Must be nice not to have to out businessman the men. “Juliet Lane, Bliss’s newest occupant.” “You movin’ in? Not just passin’ through?” Ellie looked surprised. “I hope to call this place home. Just need to find the actual home to make it official.” A deep baritone voice came from behind her. “You didn’t like the hotel?” Juliet jumped and squeaked a little before spinning around, her eyes wide and her hand on her heart. There, standing in line almost directly behind her, was the delectable Ian Moore.

CHAPTER FIVE

JULZ LET out a long breath and a shaky laugh. “Wow, Ian. You scared me.” “I can see that.” Today, he was looking way more approachable in jeans, a t-shirt, and honest to goodness cowboy boots. Dressed down or not, he was still hot as hell. Maybe even better looking now than he was in the tux because Juliet could see the strong muscles in his arms and chest, the flat tummy that was sure to be all rippling abs under the thin cotton of his shirt. And he had the whole, scruffy, didn’t shave this morning deal going, which only set off his eyes all the more. Juliet suddenly wished she’d spent more time in front of the mirror. “What’s this about not finding a place? You didn’t like the hotel? Bobby too grouchy for ya?” Juliet stepped to the side while Ellie handed her a huge cup of coffee and went to work bagging up the rest of her order. “No, although he’s really not the most welcoming guy out there, is he?” Ian laughed and Juliet immediately wanted to make him laugh again. “He wouldn’t rent me a room,” she continued, eyes widening at the taut look spreading across Ian’s face. “And why’s that?” His voice had an edge she didn’t like. Not sure what she’d done to upset him, Juliet smoothed her hair back and squared her shoulders. Michael would have expected her to drop her eyes to the ground and go quiet. Julz wasn’t at all interested in being that girl anymore. “Because of Lulu, my dog.” Ian laughed again. “Fucking Lulu.”

Juliet’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” “I’m sorry, but who names their dog Lulu?” Ian asked through a broad smile. Juliet looked him over from head to toe, all the while her heart pounding away in her chest. “And who are you to judge me for how I named my dog?” Michael would have grabbed her by the arm and thrown her over his knee, pulled up her skirt and spanked her ass until she cried for holding eye contact this long, let alone talking back like this. It felt so. damn. good. to be free. Ian laughed again and it felt even better. “I’m Ian Moore, that’s who. I’ll judge you, and your little dog, too.” “Did you for really real just reference the Wizard of Oz? On purpose?” “And who are you to judge me for what movies I reference?” Julz put a hand on her hip. “I’m Juliet Lane, that’s who.” She lifted an eyebrow and turned her back to Ian, pretending to see how close Ellie was to having her breakfast ready, but mostly just needing to hide the blush that worked its way up her chest and flared across her cheeks along with a giddy little smile. She liked talking to Ian. Thankfully, Ellie rescued her and showed up with her order. “I threw a couple extra napkins in there. It’d be a shame to ruin such a pretty dress.” Juliet looked down and fought the urge to say ‘this old thing?’ because while it was true, the dress was old, it’d only come across as false modesty. And she absolutely, positively, one hundred percent couldn’t stand any kind of falsehood. Ellie smiled at Ian. “What can I get you, Lieutenant?” Julz turned her back to Ian and made a surprised little face. Lieutenant, huh? Well, now, isn’t that a surprise? Ian Moore’s not only the kind of guy who drives fancy black cars and attends engagement parties in tuxedos, the kind of guy that owns beachfront rental properties, but he’s also a cowboy boot wearing, jeans and t-shirt sporting, military officer? Just who was this guy? This Ian Moore? Juliet sipped her coffee and closed her eyes in pleasure as she swallowed. So good. She smiled at Ellie and tipped her coffee cup in Ian’s direction. “Nice meeting you, Ellie. And nice seeing you again, Lt. Moore,” she said and headed for the door despite every ounce of her body begging her to stay and keep talking to Ian. “Juliet,” he called and she liked the way her name sounded in his voice. She turned in time to see Ian finish giving Ellie his order and then beckon her back over to the counter. Juliet took one glance through the window towards Lulu. “I’ve got the dog in the car. Meet me outside?” She had to speak more loudly than she wanted to and the other customers were busy watching the interaction. Some politely trying to hide their curiosity while others stared unabashedly at Juliet as if they thought they’d find her family secrets written somewhere on her body. Ian nodded and she couldn’t help the smile that blossomed from the bottom of her feet and bloomed on her face. Take it easy, she reminded herself as she floated on little imaginary clouds over to her car. You’re not looking for a man. What you

need is a place to stay and a way to make money. Seemed like she wasn’t in the mood to listen to herself, though because as soon as she saw Ian exit Good Beginnings, her heart started pounding and her belly started growing a whole field of butterflies. She waited until she knew he’d seen her and then leaned into her car to let Lulu out. She knew her dress was short and by bending over she was giving him an eyeful, a tantalizing glimpse of juuuust enough leg. She made sure he had a chance to take a good long look and his expression when she turned back around said he’d liked what he’d seen. It felt good to be seen, good to flirt. She took a deep breath and let it out as Ian strode towards her, all boots and biceps and tummy fluttering smiles. Juliet took a long drink of her coffee and swallowed hard. She kind of wanted to touch him again, the memory of how hard his chest had felt under his tuxedo jacket ever so fresh in her mind. Strike that. She didn’t just kind of want to touch him again, she definitely wanted to touch him again. “Hey,” he said as he came to a stop beside her and leaned against the car. “Hey.” “Long time no see. How ya been?” He kept his face so pleasantly stoic that Juliet was a little thrown on how to respond. She went with light and sarcastic. “It has been a long time since I saw you inside Good Beginnings, just now.” “Longest five minutes of my life.” He said it without flinching, without winking or grinning or doing anything to weaken the words by making light of them. Juliet blushed and smiled again but tried to cover it by taking a bite of her sandwich. She broke off a piece and fed it to Lulu rather than climbing into the back seat to get her doggie bowl and food and giving Ian a chance to walk away. “Where did you sleep last night?” Ian unwrapped his sandwich and took a mansized bite. Juliet tapped the hood of the Hyundai. “Right there.” There was an odd sense of pride in the statement. Ian swallowed the bite in his mouth with effort. “In your car?” Clearly he didn’t share her positive feelings about the experience. “Why didn’t you call me?” Truth was, she hadn’t really thought about it, but now that she did, she wasn’t really sure she’d have called even if she had remembered his card in her purse. “Put yourself in my shoes. New to town. Showed up without a plan. Get help from a random stranger and then, when your non-existent plan lands you in a tight spot, would you want to call that same stranger and ask for even more help?” Juliet shook her head and took a drink. “I know I wouldn’t. It was my fault I didn’t have a place to go. No need to make you suffer the consequences of my poor planning.” Ian shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. “There’s some sense there, I guess. I still don’t like that you spent a night in your car, but I can respect your decision not to call given the circumstances.” He held up a finger and put on a serious face. “This time.” Juliet smiled and the wind played in her skirt, brushing the light cotton against

her legs. For just a moment, she felt out of time, as if this instant could stretch on and on until the rest of forever. “So what are you going to do?” Ian asked and reality came crashing down around her. “I was gonna look in the paper, see if there are some places in my price range. Hunt down the library and check online. I’m not opposed to another night or two in the car, if it comes to that.” “You don’t get service here?” It took her a second to parse the question, but then she realized that Ian was asking about her phone. Because, in this day and age, who didn’t have a smartphone with instant access to the internet? Women on the run, that’s who. She smiled wryly and pulled out the prepaid Walmart phone. “Oh, I get service,” she said, flipping the thing open and closed before tossing it into her purse. “It’s just not very easy to Google stuff on that thing.” She tried to keep her smile light and easy in the wake of his ever growing judgement. She watched it darken his face and found that she much preferred his smile. “That’s settled then,” he said with a perfunctory nod. “You’ll move into one of my beach houses.” And then he smiled and it was like the sun parting the clouds. “I know just the one. It’s newly remodeled, all new appliances, counters, the bathroom is updated. Huge walk in closet in the master—” Juliet held up her hands and cut him off. “Whoa there, Cap’n. I appreciate the offer and it sounds absolutely wonderful, but there’s no way I can afford that and I’m not looking for handouts.” Ian studied her. “What can you afford?” Juliet sighed. “I’m here, in a new town without a job, sporting a prepaid phone and a car full of not enough stuff.” Juliet waited for him to respond and she finally sighed into his silence. “Not much. I can’t afford much.” Ian studied her and Juliet fidgeted under the intensity of his stare. “What are you running from?” “I’d rather not say.” “The law?” Juliet choked on a laugh. “God no.” “Trouble?” She sighed and nodded. “Of the crazy male variety.” And that was all she was going to say about that. That was already more than she wanted to say about that. If he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, then he could just go on about his merry way and leave her to figure this stuff out on her own. “And you didn’t do anything to incite said male craziness? Take his stuff? Ruin his life?” Juliet bristled. “Of course not.” She hadn’t finished her sandwich, but wasn’t all that interested now that the butterflies in her stomach had morphed into plain old nauseating nerves. She set it on its wrapping paper on the roof of her car and took a drink of coffee.

“Hey,” Ian said, holding out his hands, “you can’t fault me for asking.” “No, I guess I really can’t, but can we please change the subject? First day of my new life and all that. I’d rather focus on looking forward.” Ian stared off into the distance and Juliet took the time to try and calm down her churning stomach. All the awesomeness of starting her fancy new life was starting to wear off and all she had left was the realization that she had very little money, no job, and nowhere to stay. And to make matters worse, she was going to cry. And there was nothing worse than crying in front of anyone, let alone a man. She swiped at her eyes and hoped he wouldn’t see, but of course he did anyway. “Oh hell, what have I done?” While he sounded totally put out, that didn’t stop him from reaching into the paper bag and pulling out some of the extra napkins Ellie had put in there. He wiped her eyes, leaning in close enough for her to smell his cologne and then stayed there even after her eyes were dry. He ran his thumb across her cheekbone and Juliet’s breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted. The muscles in her stomach clenched. It didn’t make any sense. None at all. But in this moment she thought that if Ian kissed her, she’d kiss him right back. And then Ian pulled away and cleared his throat. “That’s settled then,” he said, as if it really was. “What’s settled?” “I have a place that I just got my hands on—” Juliet started to explain yet again that she couldn’t afford it and Ian gave her a stern look. “This isn’t up for discussion, Juliet.” The tone of his voice had her snapping her mouth shut against what she was about to say. “The bones of the house are good,” he continued, “but the whole thing needs renovating. You’ll stay there in exchange for helping to get the place ready for a real renter.” “How much?” “Work? Oh, it needs new paint, new floors, new cabinets, a new deck. New everything, really.” “No. That’s not what I meant. How much for the rent?” “I won’t take your money. Just your help.” “It’s a house on the beach?” Juliet bit her lip, trying to hold in the excitement. “The ocean practically touches the back door.” “And I could live there while we fix it up? For free?” “Oh, darlin’, it won’t be free. I’ll need your blood, sweat, and tears.” “And you’ll be there every day, while we work on it together?” “Every. Day.” Ian gave her the cutest little ‘what do you think’ face. “So? You gonna agree with me on this or keep me standing out here on the street?” Juliet wanted to jump up, wrap her legs around him, and plant a great big kiss on his face. What did she think? It sounded absolutely perfect! A house on the beach. No lease agreement for Michael to trace back to her. The ability to work off her debt. And, she’d get to spend lots of time with Ian while he did manly house fixing stuff. With his shirt off. Oh, please let him spend most of the time with his shirt

off. She held out her hand and put on her New York City businesswoman face. “I believe we have a deal, Lt. Moore.”

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN IAN HAD SEEN those long legs standing in front of him at Good Beginnings, that dark hair swept up into a swinging ponytail, heard that sweet voice complimenting Ellie on her cafe, Ian couldn’t believe his luck. After deciding last night that he was going to stop by and check up on her this morning, he’d changed his mind once he woke up. He told himself it was because she was probably too flighty to be worth his time, but he knew it was because he wasn’t so sure he could keep himself from getting involved with her. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head the rest of last night, his dick twitching merrily away in his tuxedo pants for the entirety of the party. As soon as he’d gotten home, he’d taken himself in his hand, stroked his hard length while envisioning his hands on her tits, his fingers playing inside her, that surprised little face she’d make when he slapped her ass… He had come so hard thinking about her last night that he was still smiling this morning. And now, here he was, shaking her hand, getting ready to move her into his newest property for the super low price of absolutely nothing. He took one look at her thin arms and manicured hands and knew she wouldn’t be much help with the renovations. But, he would get to spend every day with her. And she might actually have a decent head on her shoulders. And she definitely needed his help. He should

have known she was running from trouble. Everything about her screamed ‘help me.’ Of course, she’d deny it if he told her. She’d been trying so hard to be strong and brave. Hell, she probably thought she was strong and brave. So much so that she’d get all offended if he let her know he could see straight through to the scared little girl inside. And it was that scared little girl that had him wanting to protect her, to give her the help she needed. To put four solid walls around her and a roof over her head so he could keep her safe. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to let her stay in one of the already renovated rental properties, but he could tell she’d have fought him tooth and nail over that. He hated the thought of her in the rundown home he’d just agreed to get her set up in, but at least it wasn’t her car. His jaw clenched at the thought of her curled up and uncomfortable, nothing but a few thin pieces of glass between her and the world. “Well, Ms. Lane,” he said, keeping up the formality she’d used to accept his offer, “why don’t you hop in your former abode there,” he indicated her car and was rewarded with the sweetest little giggle, “and I’ll lead you to your newest abode.” Juliet clasped her hands behind her back and rocked up onto her toes to kiss Ian on the cheek. There was the whisper of her skin against his, the scent of her hair, the rustle of her breath moving past his ear. He wanted to grab her face in his hands and kiss her, part her lips with his tongue and taste her. She paused, frozen, so close to him. When she finally rocked back onto her heels, he saw his lust reflected on her face, but there was also something else, too. Guilt? Fear? Yeah, that was it. Juliet was scared. And of course she was. The whole reason she showed up in Bliss in the first place was because she was running from some asshole. Full on leaving the state kind of running. He’d noticed her plates at the rest stop last night. New York. What could possibly have happened that had her needing to put several hundred miles and almost five states between her and this guy? Juliet smiled and hid the fear on her face and Ian didn’t let on that he’d even seen it. Confusion drew her eyebrows together and she scanned the cars parked on the street. “Where’s your car?” Ian pointed to his truck—a Toyota Tundra TRD Pro with every single option known to man—parked right across the street. “Right where I left it.” Her eyes lit with surprise. “Of course you have a truck. Where’s the power car?” “Power car?” Ian knew she was talking about the M4 she’d seen him in last night, but he just wanted to hear her talk some more. “Yeah, you know, the sleek and shiny thing you rolled up in last night. The one that says I’m a man who wields money and power and you should all show me proper respect?” “Is that what you think it says?”

“You don’t think it says that?” This woman was something else. Of course that’s the whole reason he chose to drive the M4 last night. He liked rolling up to his parents’ house in style. They’d been supportive when he joined the Navy, but they’d not been happy. They’d been even less happy when he was sent overseas to fly fighters, and even less happy than that when he’d been sent home, injured, with his honorable discharge. That’s not totally true. They were distraught that he was injured, but they were over the moon thrilled to have him home and alive. Especially given the severity of his accident. It’s not every day that someone crash lands a plane and manages to walk away with no more than a back injury. Not everyone gets to be that lucky. Ian knew that all too well. And they were just as over the moon thrilled to know his military career was over. And even though he knew that all their reticence over his chosen career came from the fact that they loved him so damn much, he’d resented not having their full support when he first enlisted. Flying planes had been his dream since before he could talk. So, when he started making money investing the income from his rental properties, he promptly bought the car just to help solidify the fact that he was okay. If there was one thing the Moore family understood, it was money. Juliet was waiting for his response. He shrugged and brought out his best smile. “I know exactly what that car says.” “I see, and just what, exactly, is that?” “It says get in your car and follow my sexy truck to your new home.” Juliet laughed and Ian opened the car door for her, shaking his head as Lulu jumped in and parked herself in the passenger seat. He practically sprinted across the street and stepped up into the truck. As he led Juliet through the streets of Bliss —out of the little section of shops and restaurants the inhabitants affectionately called downtown and through the neighborhoods to get to the more remote area where he bought his beachfront properties—Ian went through a mental checklist of Things to Do. He’d have her sign a lease, but he wouldn’t really do anything with it. Just seemed like it be a better idea to keep this feeling like a business relationship. It was already going to be hard enough to keep his eyes off her tight little body. Well, not just his eyes. He’d like his whole body all over that tight little body. So, the lease. He’d draw up a lease, make a few amendments to it so it was clear she owed him nothing but help on getting the place in order. He already had the utilities turned on and in his name. He didn’t think it’d take much effort to talk her into keeping them in his name. He suspected she didn’t was going to want to pay with cash for as many things as she could in an effort to stay off that asshole’s radar. She could just pay him each month and he’d pay the bill for her. I could just keep the money in a little fund somewhere and give it back to her once she’s set up. Looks like she’s gonna need all the help she can get. Ian laughed at himself and turned on the radio. One thing at a time, Moore. How about you find out if she’s worth taking care of before you get yourself totally invested in taking

care of her? He kept an eye on her through the rearview, watched as she started bopping her head to whatever she had on the radio. Smiled as she started lip syncing. And loved it when they pulled up to a stop light and Juliet lifted her hands from the wheel, dancing in her seat and clearly singing at the top of her lungs. So much joy in that girl. A lot of it was hiding right now. Hiding under whatever fear she carried with her out the city. Or at least, he assumed she came from the city. Something about her screamed high-octane lifestyle. She was too comfortable shaking hands with a man. Her strong grip practiced, but not natural. He envisioned her wearing tight little gray suits, hair slicked back into some kind of militant bun. He liked this version of her better. Hair down and singing in the sunshine. He finished the drive with his eyes mostly on her and pulled into the driveway of the little two story rental that Juliet was going to call home. It wasn’t much now, it truly needed a new everything, but he could see through the problem areas to what it was going to be when he was done with it. Juliet was already out of her car, running up towards the front door with its wrap around porch, but she stopped short and just stared. As Ian climbed out of the truck, she lifted her face to the sky and spread her arms out to the side. Turned in a circle, eyes closed, white dress flaring out around her gorgeous legs. She came to a stop and beamed up at him. “Oh, Ian,” she breathed. “It’s perfect.” As she turned back to stare at the house, Ian had to admit, it really was.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IAN LEFT her to unpack while he went to go get a lease drawn up and Juliet wandered the house, pinching herself from time to time to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It definitely needed work. Lots and lots of work. But, she could just see what it was going to be when they were done with it. Almost every room had floor to ceiling windows and the ones in the living room and master bedroom looked out over the beach. The kitchen was super dated and the stove could use one heck of a cleaning, but it had ample cabinet space and even more windows. Juliet laughed. Ample cabinet space for all the stuff she didn’t have to put in them. Oh well, those things, the material things, she’d gather more of that along the way. For right now, she had all that needed and that was more than enough. Well, she thought, let’s not take that positivity too far. Because right now, you don’t have a couch or a bed and that’s definitely gonna suck. Determined not to let anything ruin her mood, she reminded herself that she at least had a roof over her head. “I’ll figure out the furniture thing soon enough,” she said to Lulu who perked her little ears and cocked her head to the side. “Maybe someone will have a yard sale or something. Or I could check out a Goodwill.” Now that she wasn’t going to have to use her money on rent each month, she had just a little more disposable income. If she could even find a decent couch, that’d serve as a bed, too, until she was more settled. It took her all of four trips to bring her stuff into the house. She opened up the box labeled Kitchen and pulled out the dishes that Michael wouldn’t let her unpack at his penthouse. It felt really damn good to slide them up into a cabinet near the

sink. Same thing with her silverware and the chunky coffee mug she’d bought from a street vendor when she’d first moved to the city. This stuff might not cost thousands of dollars, might not be fine china or name brand anything, but it was hers and that meant a lot. The few clothes she’d brought with her looked silly hanging in the monster closet. Didn’t matter if she spread them all out or bunched them together, it just looked sparse. She looked around the empty master bedroom. Looks like sparse was going to be her new normal. She laughed and it echoed in the vast room. The vast room with huge potential. It needed new paint, and the hardwood floors were damaged under the massive window, but paint was easy. And she bet that Ian knew what to do about the floor. She could just see some gauzy white fabric draped around the window, pooling on the floor and framing the view to the ocean. She’d angle her bed so it was the last thing she saw each night and the first thing she saw each morning. There was only one thing left to do before she could consider herself completely moved in. She bounded down the stairs, and out the front door, crossed the sunscorched porch and took the steps two at a time. Lulu chased after her, barking in confusion at her excitement. The houseplant she’d had since college was in the backseat, probably wilting in the heat. She yanked open the car door and picked the thing off the floor behind the driver’s seat. It had started as just a little shoot of a plant in a pot that fit on her desk near her computer. Now, it was almost waist high and in a pot so heavy, Juliet grunted with effort as she pulled it out of the car. It would go right under the windows in the living room, so that when she looked out towards the water, she could see her old life and her new life at the same time. The pot hit the ground with a heavy thunk and the leaves shook with the impact. With a gentle heave, Juliet slid the thing into place and stood back to admire her handiwork. Not bad, if she did say so herself. “So,” came a voice behind her, “what do you think?” Juliet whirled and her heart stuttered when she saw the shape of a man in the door she’d left open while dealing with the plant. Logic told her it was Ian, but fear told her it was Michael and it took her a second to get logic and emotion on the same page. “I love it,” she said. “I mean, I know it needs work, but I can just see what it’s going to be when we’re done, you know? Those windows! And the wrap around porch. And the kitchen … Ian, it’s a dream come true.” “Well, I wouldn’t go that far quite yet. You haven’t seen the work we’ll have to do to get us from where we are to where we’re going.” “I’m not afraid of a little hard work.” She couldn’t wait to show him how much help she could be. She could do the painting in the evenings while he wasn’t here. And she might not have done a lot of construction work in the past, but she was a fast learner and not afraid to sweat. He only needed to tell her what to do and she’d be there, ready to help.

“We’ll see how you feel about that tomorrow afternoon.” Clearly, Ian was going to need some convincing as to her worthiness as an assistant. “Never underestimate a girl who’s survived in the city for more than a year and hasn’t started talking to inanimate objects yet. You gotta have some fight in you to survive that place.” “I don’t doubt it. But Juliet?” Her heart surged to hear him say her name. “You talk to that little dog all the time.” “That’s not the same!” Ian pushed off the wall and sauntered over to drop some paperwork on the kitchen counter. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I’m just saying, maybe you’re not as tough as you think you are.” Juliet made a face. He was trying to be silly, and she wouldn’t dare show him that he’d hurt her feelings, but he’d touched a nerve. That’s all she ever heard in the business world. You’ve gotta be tough. Don’t let them see you cry. Be stronger than the strongest man. She’d taken all that advice to heart and built a totally impenetrable wall of sturdy resilience around herself and donned it each morning like armor. She’d show Ian Moore just how tough she could be. Keeping a smile on her face, she crossed the room to lean on the counter next to him, fully aware of the millimeter of space between their shoulders. “Tell me what we have here.” Ian straightened and Julz immediately missed having him in her personal space. “What we have here, Ms. Lane, is a not so standard rental agreement.” He walked her through the thick packet, highlighting the fact that Lulu was allowed, but would henceforth be called Chopper. Juliet held up a hand. “Hold on Lt. Moore, I absolutely will not agree to call Lulu Chopper.” The little dog perked up and ran over to Julz, her nails clicking across the wood floors. “I’m not sure how you came to the conclusion that this contract was negotiable, Ms. Lane.” “Every contract is negotiable.” “Fine. How about you can continue to call her Lulu, but I get permission to call her whatever the hell I feel like?” He paused, pen poised over the paper, a charming smile warming up the whole empty house. Juliet couldn’t help but compare this experience with signing a contract with Ian to her Dominant/submissive contract with Michael. It was night and day. Cold and hot. She couldn’t imagine Michael having the confidence to joke around like this. “Fine, I’ll agree to that,” said Juliet and Ian dropped his pen to the paper, scribbling an addendum into the margin. “Initial here,” he said, all business. “And here,” he said, pointing to a different box after she scrawled her JL underneath his tight handwritten note. “Not so fast, my friend. I never sign something without knowing what I’m agreeing to.” “Savvy business practice, Ms. Lane.” Ian lifted the paper from the counter and cleared his throat, and intoned in a deep, overly professional voice. “The tenant,”

he paused and looked up from the paper. “That’s you.” “Thank you for clarifying.” “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.” He cleared his throat again and continued reading in his silly deep voice. “The tenant agrees that the owner…” He paused again. “That’s me.” “I’ve signed a lease before, you know.” “Just don’t want you to get into anything you’re not prepared to handle.” “I think I’ve got this. Please continue.” “Alright. Just trying to be helpful.” Juliet made a face and slapped Ian on the arm. “You’ve been very helpful. Now, would you please just read the item?” “As you wish. It says here that the tenant agrees that the owner has the right to furnish the space as he sees fit at any time during the term of this rental agreement. If the owner doesn’t believe that the resident’s furnishings are fit for the space, he has the right to replace them.” Juliet worked hard to keep her face from showing the great big go to hell that came roaring up from somewhere deep in her belly. How dare he assume that she wasn’t going to be able to furnish the place properly? He sounded like Michael now, assuming that he knew what was best and her stuff most definitely wasn’t. Although, he was going to want to rent this place out eventually. It did make some kind of sense that he’d want to make sure the interior was ready to wow the clients who walked through the place. It wasn’t fair to take her issues with Michael out on Ian. That didn’t mean she had to like it. With a curt nod, she initialed the stupid box. “Excellent, Ms. Lane,” he said, drawing out the first syllable of the sentence and rubbing his hands together, looking perfectly diabolical. “Something tells me I’ve just walked right into a trap.” “Whatever would make you believe such a thing?” he asked, putting on a wounded face. He walked her through the rest of the agreement, which was pretty standard except for the parts that outlined that she was to keep any receipts for items purchased for the renovations and that the utilities would stay in his name and she was to pay him. It all looked on the up and up and she signed without hesitating, thinking again of the last agreement she’d signed. There’d been butterflies in her belly back then, too. A sense of starting out on a grand adventure. Hopefully, this agreement really was the beginning of something wonderful. Ian gathered the papers in his hand and then took his time surveying the empty living room and adjoining dining room. “You know what? I officially deem your furnishings unfit for this space.” He looked towards the still open front door. “James!” he called. “It’s safe. You can come in now!” Juliet blinked as a slightly smaller version of Ian bounded through the front door. “Hey there,” he said, extending a hand and exposing a tattoo that worked its way from his wrist up into the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I’m James, Ian’s younger, and

totally better than him at everything, brother.” She shook his hand, her mouth still hanging open, looking from James to Ian. “Pleased to meet you,” she muttered, her manners on auto-pilot. “Back atcha,” he said and winked before turning to Ian. “Does she know? Where do we start?” “Does she know what?” asked Juliet, totally confused. Ian took both her shoulders in her hands and smiled. “Like I said, I’ve deemed your lack of furnishings unfit and have brought you some replacements.” Shock dropped her jaw again. “I can’t … I mean, I don’t need …” She was at a loss. She totally needed furniture, but she really didn’t want to take more from this guy than she already had. No more handouts, remember? “Really?” Ian looked around the empty space. “Because it looks like you need a whole hell of a lot to me.” She started to stammer out a protest again and Ian held up his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. I pulled some stuff out of my other properties. And as you can afford to get your own stuff, we’ll put it right back.” “She’ll be able to help next time, right?” asked James, rubbing his shoulders. “Because I already hate you a little for the size of that couch.” “How can you even start to call yourself better than me at anything when you’re already complaining?” The men moved out of the house in a flurry of insults and banter and Lulu bounded out after them in a flurry of yaps and excitement. “What the hell is that?” Juliet heard James. “Oh that?” Ian replied. “That’s Chopper.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?” James asked Ian as soon as they were out of earshot. Juliet had called Chopper—Ian had been totally serious about not calling the dog Lulu—back in the house and he’d heard her go upstairs to the bathroom. He’d seen the tears in her eyes she’d thought she’d hidden so well and knew she was going up to the mirror to eradicate any trace of them. Ian shrugged. “Not one bit.” James dropped the tailgate on the back of the Tundra and hopped in, starting to slide the mattresses closer to the edge. “What do you know about her?” “I know she’s from New York. I know she’s running from an asshole boyfriend. I know she’s kind.” And pretty. And smart. And funny. James looked surprised. “She tell you all that? Because anyone who has to tell you she’s kind, probably isn’t.” “No, you ass. She told me about the running away thing. I figured out she was from New York by reading her damn license plates, and I watched her help an old woman off the ground rather than chase that silly yapper as it ran away from her.” “Lemme guess. You chased the dog for her, didn’t you?” “Of course I did.” Ian shrugged. Juliet bounced down the steps, now wearing a pair of running shorts and a tight

little tank top. “What can I do?” she asked and Ian yanked his eyes off her perky little tits. “You can get out of the way and let the men do the men stuff,” he said with a smile. She put a hand to her hip and pursed her lips. “Unacceptable.” “Figured you’d say as much. There are some boxes of random stuff in James’s truck,” he nodded towards a black pickup on the other side of the Tundra. “Carry that stuff in and start sorting through it.” She shook her head, trying to look disapproving of being ordered around, but there was a little sparkle in her eyes that made him think she was having just as much fun as he was. “Alright man,” said James, “you’ve got me here, let’s get this shit done before I get bored and leave.” “Again, with that work ethic, I have no idea how you think you’re better than me.” As Ian and James carried the heavy pieces of furniture into the appropriate rooms, Juliet bounded back and forth between the house and the trucks, carrying boxes and humming to herself. And when she’d gathered up all the boxes, she went right to work finding homes for what he brought. It wasn’t much. A coffee pot. Some strange little glass knick-knacky things Lilah had bought him to help the rental properties feel more like home. A shower curtain and bath mat. That kind of stuff. As far as furniture went, again, it wasn’t much. A queen sized bed, a dining table and chairs. A couch and loveseat and a coffee table. The house still looked disgustingly empty, but at least the poor girl would have somewhere to sit. And eat. And sleep. It would have been much easier to bring a twin bed for her, but, he couldn’t quite talk himself into it. The larger bed was just way more appealing for a number of reasons. Most importantly was the fact that he eventually wanted to fit in that bed with her. Juliet poked her head out of the kitchen. “Can I bring you guys anything? I’ve got water and as of just now, enough glasses for all of us to have our own.” James shook his head. “As fond as I am of having my own glass of water, I gotta go. Erin’s expecting me to go over some of the wedding stuff. It was nice meeting you, though.” And with that, James was out the door, leaving Ian and Juliet alone in the house. She disappeared back into the kitchen and came out bearing a glass of water for him even though he hadn’t asked. He accepted it with a smile and took a long drink. “This looks amazing,” she said, running a finger down the soft leather of the couch before turning to face him. “Thank you.” “It’s not much. But anything we put in here, we’re only gonna have to move when we start renovating, you know?” “You feel free to call it not much. But for some perspective, last night I slept in

my car. This morning, I was making peace with the fact that I was gonna have to sleep on the floor. And now? I’ve got options as to where I can sit this evening and will be sleeping in an honest to goodness bed tonight.” “Well, when you put it that way, I’m pretty fantastic, aren’t I?” “You sure are.” Juliet leaned against the couch and looked out the window. “Do you ever get tired of looking at it?” He studied the soft curve of her cheek, the swoop of her eyelashes, the slope of her breasts as she stood in profile against the glass. Nope, he thought. I don’t think that's possible. “Of looking at what?” he asked out loud. “The water.” She gestured towards the sea. “I can’t imagine ever getting used to how beautiful it is.” Ian couldn’t agree with her more, but didn’t think they were talking about the same thing. “So,” he said, changing the subject. “Did you look upstairs? I brought bedding, but you don’t have to use it if you don't like it.” “If it’s the same quality of the rest of this stuff, I’m sure I’ll love it.” “Follow me, I’ll show you. If you hate it, we can go ‘shopping’ at some of my other properties and you can pick some you like better.” Ian took Juliet’s hand and pulled her up the stairs, ignoring her protests that whatever he’d picked out would be fine. For some reason, he didn’t want her to have to settle for fine. He wanted her to have everything she ever wanted. He’d taken a risk with the way he’d placed the bed, putting it against a wall that didn’t really make sense, but would allow her to look out and see the water. She gasped when she walked in the room and squealed a little, eliciting a sharp yap from Chopper downstairs and Ian cringed at the rattling scrabble of tiny claws trying to get traction on the hardwood floors. “How did you know?” Juliet asked him. “Because I know everything. But just what are we talking about right now?” “This is exactly where I wanted to put the bed.” “So you could see the water.” Ian tapped his head. “Not much gets passed this guy.” Juliet stared at him and swallowed hard. Took a step towards him and took his hand in hers. “Thank you,” she said and he couldn’t drag his eyes off her mouth. “You’ve been amazing. My knight in shining armor and all that.” There was a moment of silence where he studied her face and she studied his and all he wanted to do was pull her into him and kiss her. Feel her breasts pressed against his chest, grab a handful of that ass and squeeze. His dick twitched to life and he stepped back. “Like I said, we’ll see how you feel after I put you to work in the morning.” Painting another bright smile across her face, Juliet smoothed her hair. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Lt. Moore.” Ian snapped to attention and saluted her, before softening his posture and winking. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Lane.”

CHAPTER NINE

HOLY SHIT, that salute! When Ian snapped to attention—his body rigid and strong, face serious and attentive—it was all she could do to keep herself from falling to pieces in front of him. She followed him downstairs, doing her best not to blush furiously at her own arousal, appreciating the strong v of his back and shoulders, and wishing he didn’t have to leave. It’d been a great morning, having him around, laughing and joking and staring at his muscles as he carried the heavy furniture into the house with his brother. He lingered a moment at her front door, asked for her number and added it to his phone. “I'll text in the morning, when I'm on my way,” he said. “And when I say morning, I’m talking about as the sun comes up. You gonna be able to handle that?” “I have had to get up early in the past you know.” Juliet ran a hand through her hair and gathered it over her shoulder. “It’s not like this is going to be a new thing for me.” “Okay then.” Ian shrugged and gave her an incredulous look. “We’ll see how you feel about that tomorrow.” And with that, Ian gave her one more smile and headed outside. Juliet leaned against the doorframe and watched him take the stairs down off the porch two at a time and hop into his huge white truck. Of course it was a white truck. What knight in shining armor didn’t need a trusty white steed? Ian backed out of the driveway, gave her a little wave and another tight salute, and honked as he drove away. With a sigh, Juliet straightened and closed the door before turning to take one more look around the house she’d be calling home now.

Had all the time she spent with Michael built up a huge blast of Karma or something? What’s with all the good luck? Not that she was complaining. It was just that last night she slept in her car. And this morning, she was making peace with having another couple nights of sleeping in her car ahead of her. And now, just a few hours later, she had a house with furniture and the most amazing view of the ocean. Just like she’d always wanted. When Ian had first shown up with James and two trucks worth of furniture. Juliet had been shocked. Tears had pricked at the corner of her eyes and she had done her damndest to hide them, even sneaking upstairs to wash her face before changing out of her sundress so she could make herself useful and help. She couldn't believe that on top of bringing the basics like a bed and chairs and the sofa, Ian had even taken the time to bring a few boxes of little creature comfort items like a coffee pot and knick-knacks. In one of the boxes, she’d found a whole treasure trove of glass sculptures. They looked hand-blown, the colors vivid and mesmerizing. One in particular had caught her attention—a little red bird that fit in the palm of her hand. She put it on the middle of the coffee table Ian had brought so that she could see it as she sat on the couch, kicked up her feet, and stared out at the ocean. Something about the little bird made her think of freedom, symbolized this whole adventure. “Can you believe it, Lulu?” she asked the little dog at her feet. “Yesterday we were in New York, afraid that we'd never get our life back. Hell, I was even starting to think that my life was in danger. And here we are in this perfect town, in this perfect house, and I think we just met the most perfect man ever.” Lulu turned her head to the side and cocked an ear. “I know, I keep telling myself the same thing. I'm not supposed to even be thinking about men right now. But can you blame me? I mean, you’ve seen him. He's hot as hell, and nice on top of it. Just look what he did for me. I mean, I'm just a stranger he met at a dirty rest stop. Suddenly, he's got me set up in a house with furniture and a great view? I don’t think it’s right to judge me for getting a little wrapped up in him.” Of course, Lulu didn’t respond. You might be losing it, Julz. You’re having full on conversations with your dog now. She stared at the inviting sofa and considered plopping down and relaxing for a little bit, but she didn’t have groceries or toilet paper or any basic human necessities. And, seeing as how she didn’t know her way around town yet, she’d be smart to go get lost now, so she didn’t have to find her way home in the dark. After taking a moment to run outside and get Lulu's food and doggie dishes out of the car, Juliet ran upstairs, changed out of the little shorts and tank top she’d put on to help the boys move, and back into the little white sundress. She took a little extra time in front of the mirror, making sure her hair and makeup were at least acceptable in case she happened to run into Ian again. It was kind of exciting not knowing where anything was, kind of exciting to have every step outside her door be an adventure, a new section drawn into her mental map. She'd been afraid it would be unnerving not knowing where anything was or

who anyone was, but it wasn't at all. At least not today. Day one of Juliet’s grand adventure. She promised Lulu she’d be back soon and hopped in the Hyundai, ready to explore. She had paid extra attention to the roads Ian had taken as he led her out of what seemed to be downtown Bliss. But it had been a long drive and she wasn't so sure she could replicate it easily without getting lost. But, that’s what the map was for. If things got bad she’d just pull over and unfold the blasted thing. See if she could make heads or tails of where she was. Besides, getting lost might be a good thing as she fully intended to make notes on her map as she found important landmarks or stores she would like to explore later. First things first, she wanted to know how to get back to where she’d started the day, so she did her best to backtrack, following the path Ian had taken this morning. She only got lost once and had to pull over to make some notes on her map, but before too long she found herself back in front of Good Beginnings. Boy, that name was more prophetic then Ellie Charles could ever have known. Starting her day at that cafe had been a good beginning indeed. Julz parked and headed back into the cafe, hoping for a chance to sit and study her map, maybe grab a bag of coffee if Ellie sold it by the pound. Plus, since Ellie was the only other person Juliet knew in Bliss, maybe she could point Juliet in the right direction as far as groceries were concerned. “Back already?” Ellie asked from her place behind the counter. “I know this place is good, my friend, but is it really that good?” Juliet laughed and made her way to the counter. “You better believe it’s that good. It's also the only place I know how to get to in Bliss. I'm spending the day mapping this place out, figuring out where all my new favorite places are going to be. Figured this was the best place to start. Plus, I could use another cup of coffee.” “One large coffee, two creams, two sugars, right?” “Wow,” Juliet said. “That's impressive.” “It’s not every day we get someone new in this town.” Ellie busied herself behind the counter. “I make it my business to remember every customer's favorite order. It’s not always easy. But, when there's a new face in town, it really helps. You’re distinctive, you know?” Juliet nodded. “Makes sense,” she said, looking around the empty cafe. “So, is that really a thing?” “Is what really a thing?” Ellie put a lid on Juliet's coffee and handed it over. “The whole ‘everyone in town knowing everything about everyone else in town’ thing,” Juliet said and took a sip before leaning on the counter. “I mean, it seems like a pretty big deal in all of the shows about smaller towns, but I always assumed it was more of an exaggeration.” “Well, Bliss is too big for me to know everyone, that’s for sure, but I know my fair share of stuff about a lot of the people who live here,” Ellie said and leaned on the counter herself, resting her elbows on the hard surface and placing her chin in her hands. “So, speaking of knowing everything about everyone's business, how do

you know Ian Moore?” “We ran into each other at a rest stop last night while I was on my way into town. My dog escaped and Ian saved her. Then gave me directions and suggested a hotel.” “Sounds like Ian,” Ellie said, straightening and running her hands over her curvy hips, tugging on the apron she had tied around her waist. “He make a habit of rescuing strange dogs as they take off running towards the beach?” “He makes it a habit to rescue people in general. Even made a living by being a hero for a while.” “Oh yeah?” Juliet knew it was tacky to gossip with a stranger about the man who had been nothing but generous to her since she met him, but he was kind of her favorite topic right now and she couldn't bring herself to pass up this chance to learn more about him. “Oh sure,” said Ellie. “The Moores are the wealthiest family in Bliss, like old money kind of wealthy. Ian could have been anything he wanted. Could have done anything he wanted. I mean, he's got the brains for it. He's got the body for it. And he's got the money for it. His parents just about lost it when Ian decided to join the Navy.” Juliet didn’t like the sound of that at all. Old money. Did that mean Ian was spoiled? He joined the Navy despite his parents disapproving. Does that mean he had a big rebellious streak? Juliet wasn't interested in rich and rebellious. She’d just gotten rid of rich and rebellious. What she was interested in was the kind of guy Ian seemed to be. Nice. Helpful. Funny as hell. And hotter than a summer day in South Carolina, apparently. “Anyway,” Ellie said. “I'm sure you're not here to gossip about Ian Moore all day. What is it you’re looking for? As you can see,” she said, gesturing around the empty cafe, “I've got a little time on my hands right now. Maybe I can help you find what you need?” “That sounds perfect,” said Juliet, eager to change the subject from the tantalizing Ian Moore. “I basically need a little of everything.” “Everything?” “Yep. Everything. I need a job. I need groceries. I need a cheap place to get some kitchen stuff.” “Well, I can’t help you with the job, and the way things are going, I’m not so sure there will be many people who can help with that. Times are tight.” Juliet’s stomach twisted at the thought of not being able to get a job. She did have that envelope full of money, and as long as she didn’t go too crazy buying new things, it’d support her for a couple months. But a job was going to be a necessity. Ellie was already telling her about the best places to get groceries and fresh produce. Julz put worries about finding a job aside and started jotting down names of the stores Ellie was mentioning on her map. Today was only day one of this grand new adventure and she’d covered more

bases today than she’d expected to cover in the first week. Well, Ian had covered those bases for her, but still. She’d find a job. Somehow.

CHAPTER TEN

THAT NIGHT, Ian sat down with a glass of wine in hand and typed Juliet Lane, New York City into a Google search. He didn't know what he expected to find, maybe a Facebook page, maybe a Twitter feed, maybe a listing in the yellow pages. He definitely didn't expect to find pages and pages of images of her standing with Michael Phillips, CEO of fucking Tech Lord. Fucking. Tech Lord. Everyone knew who Michael Phillips was. You couldn't go through one evening of television without seeing him and his narcissistic smile leaning back in his pretentious office, spewing nonsense about the remarkable new product he’d willed (apparently single-handedly, if you listened to him) into existence this week. It blew his mind that Juliet had dated Michael Phillips. Was this the guy she was running from? Holy fuck. It had to be. There they were, in picture after picture, arm in arm, leaning into one another, smiling for the camera. What did that say about Juliet? Ian considered Michael Phillips to be a type-A douchebag. Always had. There was just something so condescending and uptight about those commercials, his smile so practiced, his hair so perfect it probably took four showers to get all the gel out at the end of the day. Juliet didn't seem like the kind of girl who would be drawn to a guy like that.

So, what was it about the guy that had drawn her in? Was it his money? Ian took a long drink of his beer. That idea did not sit well with him at all. Considering his family, Ian had dealt with his fair share of gold-digging bitches and was in no mood to deal with any more. Is that would Juliet was? It sure didn't seem like it. But Ian couldn’t think of another reason for Juliet to be wrapped up with a guy like Michael Phillips. At least not a reason that made a whole lot of sense. Ian sat back in his chair and stared off into the corners of his home office as if he could find the answer hidden in them somewhere. Night had fallen a long time ago and morning was going to come way earlier than Ian wanted it to. There was just no way he could fall asleep with all these questions going through his mind. He trusted Juliet. It didn't make sense for him to trust her, but he did. Hell, he’d even set her up in one of his rental properties—free of charge—and given her a bunch of furniture to use while she was there. The thought that she was some kind of scam artist churned in his stomach. He turned his attention back to the computer screen and studied the pictures. At first, the pictures just made him madder. Michael smirking into the camera while Juliet beamed up at him. Michael wrapping his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close as if she belong to him. But as Ian paid closer and closer attention to the images of Juliet on his screen, he started to see a different story altogether. The look on Juliet's face wasn't love. In fact, he'd seen that same look on her face yesterday. It was fear. Sure, she beamed up at Michael as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders, but the look in her eyes didn’t match the look she’d painted on her face. She wasn't in love with this guy. The more he looked at the pictures, Ian was more and more sure that Juliet didn’t even like this guy. In fact, in one particular picture, Michael's fingers were digging cruelly into Juliet’s skin. In another picture, Ian was sure he could see bruises on Juliet's forearm. Bruises that looked almost like fingertips. And in this last picture, there was no mistaking the predatory look on Michael’s face, the feral fear of the hunted etched into the dark circles under Juliet's eyes, in the hollows of her cheeks. This was not the face of a happy woman. Not the face of a woman in love. This was the face of a woman scared out of her mind. Ian sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Morning would be here before he knew it, but there was no way he could fall asleep now. Not after seeing this. What could have happened that sent Juliet running from New York City, running from Michael Phillips, one of the richest men in the world? Was he reading those pictures right? How bad had it been? One look at the fear on Juliet's face, replicated over and over and over in picture after picture after picture told him it was pretty bad indeed. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines. To understand the fear in Juliet’s eyes. To hear the story the bruises on her arm, her wrists, and possibly her throat were telling. Ian choked on his rage. The thought of any woman being hurt by any man was physically repellent to him, but the thought of any man hurting Juliet Lane was more than he could handle.

And that response right there—the visceral need to protect her, to keep her safe, to put her needs above his— what that meant was that he was going to have to be ever vigilant around her until he understood what was going on. While his instincts told him that Michael was a bad man and Juliet was nothing more than a woman on the run, life had taught him that things weren’t always what they seemed and that people could hide a whole lot of ugly truth behind an easy smile.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JULIET WASN'T sure what Ian had meant when he’d said early. In New York, early meant anything before four in the morning. Who knew what early meant here in Bliss? Last night, Juliet had set her alarm for precisely four o’clock and gotten a pot of coffee all ready and turned on the auto brew so it’d be ready when she rolled out of bed. Now, here she was at 4:15, out on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket while waiting for the sun to rise and Ian to call. She’d never experienced such peace in all of her life. Sitting there, listening to the rush of the waves, their rhythmic whisper lapping against the beach, it felt as if her whole world fit in between each heartbeat. As the sun blazed into existence where the water met the sky, Juliet knew that she belonged here. She’d chosen a town called Bliss for a reason. Every moment of her life up to this point had been tinged with sadness. And that sadness brought guilt with it because how dare she feel anything but ecstatic? She had more than some people could ever dream of having. She'd grown up with a roof over head, three meals a day, and, while her family had been distant, they weren't cruel. She'd never been hit. Never been degraded or screamed at. She had more than she needed when it came to clothes and toys and friends for her entire childhood. She had an unparalleled work ethic and because of that, was offered the best job in the biggest tower in the newest company in the most sought after city in the world right out of college. She knew exactly how to dress and exactly what to say to fit in. And still, despite all of this, sadness sung her to sleep at night. She had tried to focus on what she had, had yelled at herself for being greedy, for wanting more

when she already had so much. Would nothing ever be good enough for her? Yet, sitting here wrapped in a blanket, the hard wood of the back porch digging into her tailbone, scanning the horizon while the ocean birthed the sun, Juliet finally felt happy. Like maybe she hadn’t been greedy after all, like maybe she’d just misunderstood what she needed. After finishing her first cup of coffee, she stopped in the kitchen for a refill before heading upstairs to shower and get ready. When Ian finally drug his lazy butt out of bed and got in touch with her, Julz was going to be completely ready. He'd given her such a hard time yesterday about being sure to be awake early enough, she wanted to be waiting for him on front porch, tapping her foot impatiently when he finally showed up today. She'd show him she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work! Hot water hissed to life behind the new shower curtain Ian had brought her. She stepped in and smiled, letting the water run down her body while she lost herself to thoughts of him. Soap ran down her torso and she slid her hands over herself, stopping to tweak her erect nipples, imagining Ian’s mouth there, while she slowly circled her clit with a finger on her other hand. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand away and leaned her head against the tile. Come on, Julz. Stay focused. Ian Moore is a friend. Only a friend. Because you’re not in the market for anything else. Remember? After her shower, she spent some time drying her hair and applying a quick dash of eyeliner and mascara, a bit of red on her lips, and then found herself in front of her closet wishing she had more choices in front of her. It looked like she was going to have to make do with the same little shorts and tank top she had on yesterday. That wasn't ideal, but given her limited choices, it was just going to have to do. She finished getting ready and went back outside to sit on the front porch, Lulu trotting out after her. She took a deep breath, enjoying the unusual heaviness in the ocean air. It was already warm, warmer than it would be in New York at this hour, that's for sure, but Juliet wasn’t going to complain. She’d always hated the cold, her fingers aching at the first sign of winter, her feet in constant need of socks or slippers as soon as the sun went down. It’d be nice to deal with a little heat and humidity for a change. Finally, a little after seven, her phone buzzed in her hand. Juliet actually laughed out loud at the text. Tower, this is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby... First Wizard of Oz, now Top Gun? Could he be any more the man of my dreams? She picked up the phone, still laughing, and tapped out her response. Negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full... Pleased with herself, she snapped the phone shut and waited for his response. It only took a few seconds for a new text to come in and when it did, Juliet didn't know how to take it. Well, at least we can say we tried. Sorry it didn't work out. Wait, what? What does that mean? Juliet waited for another response, some clue as to whether or not Ian was joking. He had to be joking, right? Here she was, in his

house. Waiting for him to come by so they could begin renovations. There's no way he was going to ditch her, kick her out. Right? She waited longer than she wanted for a follow up text that never came. Irritated at the uncertainty fluttering around her belly, she picked up her phone and sent him a text. What do you mean? She knew, or at least most of her knew, that she was being silly and irrational. But the longer she waited for his response, the more nervous she became. She had the phone open in her hand when Ian’s response came in. You just told me I wasn't welcome. I wanted to come help, but you said no. Still a little unsure as to whether or not he was joking, Juliet tapped out a quick response. I said no such thing, silly. And then, while she waited for his response, staring at the phone as if she could physically will his answer to come in faster, tires crunched on her driveway and the throaty rumble of a four wheel drive engine startled Lulu, who’d fallen asleep on Juliet’s lap. She looked up, laughing nervously at herself as Ian parked his truck and hopped out. “You most certainly did say no,” he said, arching an eyebrow and shutting the door with a heavy thunk. Lulu ran up to him, yipping and yapping her greeting. “Mornin’ Chopper.” Ian reached down and scratched her between the ears. Juliet stood, inwardly chastising herself for the surge of anxiety his texts had brought her. Ian is not Michael, she reminded herself. “I said no such thing silly boy.” Juliet joined him near the truck in case he needed help carrying anything. “You hit me with a Top Gun quote, so I hit you with a Top Gun quote back.” “Yeah, and my quote was me asking for permission to come by. Your quote? You told me no. I don't like being told no, you realize that, don’t you?” “It's all very tough and strong to make comments like that, you know,” said Juliet. “But let’s be honest. No one likes to be told no. So you can put your little macho, tough man act aside.” He flipped open the tailgate and unveiled a mess of tools and wood and who knows what other kinds of renovating materials that Juliet didn’t have names for. “You think this is an act? You saying you don’t think I’m a man?” He drew a huge saw out of the truck. “This is a man’s tool, Juliet.” Juliet widened her eyes and made a surprised face. “It’s so big and long!” “You better believe it is.” She took the toolbox he handed her and held out the other hand to indicate she could take something else. “So, Mr. Manly Man, I don't know what you call early out here in Bliss, South Carolina, but seven a.m.? It's not that. I've been up since four, ready to go, just waiting on your lazy ass.” Ian hoisted several long pieces of wood onto a shoulder and grunted under their weight. “Four a.m., huh?” “Yep. That's how we get up early in the city. Not this silly, after the sun’s already up stuff.”

“And how do you think you’ll feel come lunchtime?” Ian led the way around to the back of the house and Juliet followed. “You think you’ll still be rip-roaring, ready to go? Ready to work like a man, with a man?” He dropped the wood near the deck and it clattered onto the ground while Ian flexed and contorted his body like a bodybuilder, even going so far as to growl. Juliet placed the toolbox down on the ground and shook her head, trying to look disapproving while her heart jumped up and down gleefully, inviting the butterflies in her stomach to join in. This man, this wonderful man. Everything felt okay when she was with him. Better than okay. Easy. Right. Natural. She swallowed and squashed those thoughts. You’re just his latest project, remember? Another puppy who needed saving. Enjoy him, but don’t get too attached. “Is everything a competition with you?” she asked, pushing all those thoughts away because they made her feel sad. And she was so tired of feeling sad. “Why do you ask? You afraid of losing?” Juliet laughed. “I don't think I even know how to lose. Not sure that's happened to me very frequently.” “New town, new home, new guy, new rules.” Ian turned and faced the water, watched the morning sun glisten and gleam like diamonds scattered across the surface. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. Juliet wasn't sure what to make of that last comment. New guy? Did that mean he considered himself a replacement for her old guy? That was a little presumptuous of him, considering she wasn't even in the market for a new guy. Oh, come on now, she told herself, you spent the whole night fantasizing about his body, going on and on and on about his kindness, even gossiped with Ellie Charles about his past and then touched yourself in the shower, thinking about him. I think you can cut the guy a little slack if he's busy doing something similar with you. Besides, thinking about him thinking about her the way she’d been thinking of him felt damn good. Turned out Ian intended to tear apart the old porch and replace a lot of the rotting wood with new wood. Juliet had anticipated hard work, but this was grueling. And while Ian did the majority of the hardest work himself, Juliet was definitely sweaty and tired by the time afternoon rolled around. They only took a short break for lunch, and there wasn’t much conversation at that point. They were both too busy just trying to get food into their mouths so they could get back to work, that talking was pointless. After lunch, Ian took off his shirt and it proved to be just as magnificent as Juliet had hoped. She’d had her hands on him twice now, once the first night they’d met when she’d tried to brush sand from his chest. And then again yesterday when she’d reached up to hug him after he told her about the house. She had known he was going to be impressive without his shirt on, but that still didn't prepare her for the truth of Ian Moore in the flesh. It took every ounce of her considerable willpower not to just stand and gawk for minutes on end. He was so. damn. beautiful. His abs rippled as he bent and shifted, that delicious little v near his

waistband making her wonder what he had hiding in his pants. His biceps flexed as he lifted and hoisted, as he wielded his hammer and saw. By the time Ian called it quits, Juliet hurt in places she didn't know she could hurt. Even her eyes stung from the sweat that kept dripping past her eyebrows. She had slammed her fingers with hammers. She had chipped and pulled her fingernails, grabbing at nails in the wood. Her hair plastered itself to her face with sweat and what little makeup she had put on that morning had to be smeared all across her face. Juliet was a little disappointed with herself. She’d wanted to impress him with her ability to adjust and learn quickly. She’d wanted to be invaluable help. Right there. Ready to take on any task Ian gave her. That hadn't been the case. She’d had to ask what the names of tools meant, she hadn't been able to lift some of the larger pieces of wood by herself, and she had no ability to use a power tool in the least. All in all, she was feeling pretty worthless right about now. Ian leaned on the deck railing and stared out towards the sea. “I'll be honest with you,” he said, handing Juliet a bottle of water he’d brought out earlier. “I didn't expect you to be much help at all. I'd say you just taught me a lot about what to expect out of a New Yorker.” Ian swiped a hand across his brow and then rubbed that hand over the back of his pants. I bet that butt feels as magnificent as it looks. “You’re sweet to try and make me feel good,” she said, trying to ignore the indecent thoughts parading through her head. “But go right ahead and call it like it was. That was hard and I wasn't any good at it. I was in the way more than anything.” “You're something else, you know that? When I got here today, did you know anything about what we were doing? Did you know the names of any of those tools? Did you even know how to properly swing a hammer?” Juliet hung her head and swiped a bit of damp hair out of her eyes. “No. Not really.” “But you do now don't you?” “Kind of. I mean I could show you which screwdriver goes to which screw, and I could tell you what that circular saw over there does, and I now know that just because you make all that wood look light and easy to carry, it doesn't mean it is light and easy to carry.” “There's a joke in there, but I'm gonna let it slide. Be a gentleman and all that.” “And what if I’m not interested in a gentleman?” Juliet had no idea she was going to say that until it was out of her mouth and now, there it was, hanging in the air between them like a window into her dirty little inner self. Ian stared at her, his mouth hanging open, hunger burning in his eyes. Juliet’s whole world shrunk down into this one moment, the space between her breaths. Her chest heaved, and her heart thundered away as if it wanted Ian’s attention all to itself. He licked his lips and dropped his gaze to her mouth. Silence hung between them, punctuated by the crash of the waves on the beach until finally, Lulu

started barking at them from behind the back door. “Oh no!” Juliet wrenched her eyes off Ian’s bare chest and swallowed. “She’s been locked inside all day. I hope she hasn’t had an accident.” She bit her lip and made an apologetic face at Ian before she scrambled up the steps to let the dog out. As soon as she was out from under the weight of his gaze, she could take a full breath again. What had she been thinking, saying that to him? On one hand it was true, she liked things rough, but if her experience with Michael taught her anything, she most definitely wanted a gentlemen over a possessive ego-maniac. Oh man, she could just imagine all the things Ian must be thinking about her right now. Lulu bolted past her feet as soon as she got the door open and Juliet was just going to head straight into the house, making an excuse about checking for accidents. But Ian grabbed her arm, his grip forceful but not hurtful, stopping her in her tracks and pulling her back outside. He spun her around to face him and put his other hand on the side of her face, sliding his fingers up into the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. And then he pressed his lips to hers, his mouth claiming hers for his own. His stubble scraping the soft skin around her mouth. Juliet welcomed the kiss, parting her lips and Ian’s tongue slid inside. Her entire body felt hot and alive with desire and she slid her hands up into his hair. He groaned into her mouth and let go of her arm, letting his hands slide down to cup her ass, pressing her hips forward into him, so she could feel how hard he was through his jeans. Juliet’s panties got damp, feeling the evidence of his arousal like that. He smelled like sweat and cologne and felt so strong and hard, his body pressed against her curves. Juliet wanted more. She wanted him to grab her breasts. Tangle his fingers in her hair. She wanted her hands on his dick, to stroke his hard length and feel him grow harder still. Ian grabbed her ponytail and wrapped her long hair around his hand, yanked down on it so that her head tilted back. She gasped through her open mouth and he trailed kisses down her jawline to her neck and then to the soft spot at her throat. “Like that?” he muttered against her skin and pressed his hips into her, using his hands to press her body into his. “Yes,” she whispered to the sky, “like that.” From what sounded like a million miles away, Lulu started barking. And barking. And barking some more. Juliet slowly came to the realization that the dog had left the back yard and had found her way out to the beach. She pulled out of Ian’s arms and saw the terrier running back and forth, telling the ocean exactly what she thought about it. “Damnit,” she murmured, stepping out of Ian’s arms. He turned and saw what had stolen her attention and shook his head. “Fucking Lulu.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

AS JULIET RAN after the dog, Ian got himself all put back to rights. Adjusted his pants to make room for his raging hard on, took a deep breath, and ran his hands through his hair. It hadn’t been easy working next to Juliet all day. Well, not that it’d been particularly hard, either. But he couldn’t help but stare at her, nor could he help but notice that she kept staring at him. When she made that comment about not wanting a gentlemen, his dick had twitched to life and practically ordered him to bend her over the rail and fuck her until she begged for mercy. It was only the memory of those pictures—the look in her eyes, the bruises on her arms—that kept him from actually doing it. Well, that, plus the fact that he wasn’t at all interested in taking her against her will. That kiss though? That’d told him that she was very willing, that not only did she want him as much as he wanted her, but she might be exactly the kind of woman he was looking for. Someone who liked it a little rough, someone who wanted a man to take charge and tell her how it was going to be. But it went deeper than that. She might be more than simply compatible in bed. She might be the kind of woman he was looking for in all ways. Strong enough to take care of herself, but willing to let down her guard and let him take care of her, too. Eager to help, ready to anticipate his needs and act on them. To give him

everything, every last part of her without holding anything back. And it was because of that sneaking little suspicion that he wasn’t going to ruin anything by trying to go too fast. He actually wanted to get to know her. To understand her likes and dislikes, to understand what had her looking so afraid in those pictures. He wanted her to let him in, let him protect her from the whole wide world. Get a hold of yourself, now. You’ve not known this girl long enough to know if she’s worth any of that stuff. But no matter how many times his head told him such things, something in him kept insisting that she was worth at least finding out. And as he watched her stride back towards him with that silly little yapper in her arms, he couldn’t help but smile. “Whatdaya know,” he whispered to himself, “Ian Moore may have finally met his match.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

IAN WAS RIGHT. Fucking Lulu. With one last look back at Ian—holy shit he’s so sexy!—Juliet took off towards the water to rescue her dog. She couldn’t believe Ian had just kissed her! And, just the way she liked it, too. All hot and needy, claiming her as his. No asking for permission or tentative bits of eye contact to make sure she was on the same page he was. He just grabbed her and kissed her and, holy shit, it was so good. Lulu was wet from running after the water as it receded from the beach and then getting hit as the next wave rolled in. “I guess that makes two of us,” she whispered to the dog before making her way back to where Ian sat on the porch. What would he say? Would he regret the kiss? Would he cheapen it by trying to apologize? For that matter, what would she say? She was just getting out of a crazy ass relationship, not one built on love, God no. It was born of lust and then held together with dominance and submission and one hell of a lot of rope. But Ian wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted to rebound with. He was too … what? Too everything she ever wanted…? Or did she just feel that way because she’d gotten all wrapped up in the romance of her new life, her new freedom, here in Bliss? Ian was leaning on the porch railing when she got back to the house. “I think you should invest in a lead for her. Seems like one of us is always trekking out to the beach and coming back all covered in sand.” Ahh. So they weren’t going to talk about the kiss at all. Juliet painted a smile on her face. “Probably a good idea.” She looked around for something to clean Lulu up

with. “I guess I need to run inside and get the sand out of her fur. My landlord would kill me if I let her track the beach into the house.” “Here,” he said, tossing her his shirt. “Use this.” Juliet started to protest. “Remember, I don’t like being told no.” There was that devilish little grin again. Juliet used the bottom edge of the hem to dry Lulu’s shirt, doing her best not to get wet dog all over the thing. The kiss hung in the air between them and Juliet couldn’t find her voice through the tension. She couldn’t even bring herself to meet his eyes because every time she did, lust flared hot and bright in her belly, her lower muscles clenching deliciously. How could she have a decent conversation with him when all she wanted was his mouth all over her body? After Lulu was sufficiently dry, Juliet let her back in the house and found herself utterly unable to turn around. She about jumped out of her skin when Ian put his hand on her arm, gently this time. “Look at me, Juliet.” Still frozen, she turned her head over her shoulder, trying to do as he said even though her body was fighting against her. “All the way.” He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around and Juliet was ashamed to find she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I said all the way.” Ian put a finger to her chin and lifted her face to his. “Never be afraid to make eye contact with me.” Juliet swallowed. “I’m sorry…” she began, but trailed off, unsure why she was apologizing. He was the one who kissed her. “Don’t be,” said Ian. “I’m not.” His gaze traveled over her mouth again. “Promise?” she breathed. Ian nodded and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Promise. And,” he said, putting some distance between them, “I’m gonna want to do it again.” Juliet practically melted with relief. Felt her lips part and her body ache. “But, not now.” Juliet pouted. ‘Why not?” she asked. “Greedy girl,” said Ian, and a flush flared across Juliet’s cheeks. “I like it. I want you to want me more than anything. More and more and more of me. All I have to give. But,” he said, holding up a finger. “I’m dirty and smelly and I want to take you on a proper date first.” But I like the way you smell. She considered saying it, but didn’t. Instead, she just nodded, suddenly completely aware of how stinky she must be herself. “So here’s the plan,” said Ian, seemingly not bothered by Juliet’s silence. “You go inside and get cleaned up. Put on a pretty dress. Do your hair, fix your nails, whatever it is you do to get ready, and I’ll go home and do the same.” “You’re gonna go home and do your nails?” Juliet smiled wickedly at Ian, pleased she’d finally overcome whatever terrible bout of shyness had stolen her voice. “Hey, you do you, I’ll do me, okay?” Ian waggled a finger at Juliet and tried to look stern. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll go home and get cleaned up—and I think we can both agree that I’m allowed to do it in any way I deem fit, right?” He waited

for her to nod through her giggles and continued. “I’ll be back here to pick you up at seven.” And with that, he gathered up his toolbox and loaded it into the back of the truck, hopped up into the driver’s seat and drove away, leaving Juliet staring after him in the driveway. “What. The fuck. Was that?” she asked, shaking her head and running her hand through her ponytail as she wandered back into the house. SHE WAS SHOWERED and completely ready with still forty-five minutes to spare and couldn’t keep still. What the hell was she doing? She’d just left Michael two days ago. And now she’s already making out with hot men on her back porch? Spending hours getting ready for a date? This couldn’t be healthy. Couldn’t be normal. And yet, she felt so damn happy. Better than she’d felt in longer than she could ever remember. She had hummed while she did her make-up, sung while she did her hair, danced naked in front of her closet while deciding what to put on. She had lingered longer than she liked to admit over her underwear choices, because, again, should she really be wondering if Ian would prefer white or black lace at this point? In the end, she’d settled on black because it made her feel the sexiest. And a short little red dress that flared at the waist because it was the only other dress she had with her. Needing a reason to stop pacing, Julz took Ian’s advice and sat down to do her nails. She only had her manicure kit and some clear polish with her, but that would have to do. On a whim, she pulled out her phone and texted Willow her *67 code. When her phone rang, she didn’t recognize the number, but assumed that Willow had borrowed a phone from someone again. “Hello?” she asked cautiously, capturing the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Julz! Heeey!” Willow singsonged. “I got me a prepaid phone so we don’t have to go all cloak and dagger all the time. So, you get to where you were going?” “Yep. And I’m way more setup than I thought I’d be.” “Sounds about right. You’re Juliet the Impenetrable. Julz the Phoenix. The cat who always lands on her feet.” “You make me sound like a superhero.” “You kind of are. You take a lick and keep on tickin’, my friend. Always have, always will.” Juliet laughed, glad she’d thought to call her friend. “So, I need your advice.” “You’re looking for my advice? This is new. Fire away.” “I met a guy.” Juliet dragged the nail polish brush across her nail and paused, waiting for Willow’s response. “WIll?” she asked after what felt like too long “Julz…” Willow had her disapproving voice on. “It’s too soon.” “I know, right? That’s my problem. But, when I’m with him, it’s like … like …

time stops. And my smile is real. And all that stupid sadness is gone and I just want to breathe him in.” “You’ve only been gone for three days.” “I know, but, I met him two nights ago and have spent hours with him each day since.” Juliet filled Willow in on everything, careful never to say where she was or use Ian’s full name. She felt like a creep for keeping stuff from her friend, but Michael Phillips was the self-proclaimed Tech Lord, after all. “He gave you a house?” Willow sounded incredulous. “Well, he didn’t give it to me. He’s just letting me stay here while he gets it ready for renters and I get on my feet.” “I see. But what about you? Isn’t it too soon after Michael to be getting involved with someone?” “I asked myself the same thing, and honestly, that’s why I called you. The whole time I was making plans to leave him, the whole time I was driving, I was determined that I didn’t want to get involved with anyone else. I wanted to be me, on my own two feet. No relationships of any kind. But Willow, I never loved Michael. And he never loved me. Our relationship was sexual, more business merger than anything. And now that I’ve met Ian, it’s like, I don’t know, melting. Blossoming. It all sounds so dumb.” “Juliet Lane, what’s gotten into you?” “Right? Now you see why I called! It’s only been a few days and I don’t know anything about him except how I feel around him.” “And how do you feel around him?” “Alive. Like the best version of myself. Happy.” Juliet stopped painting her nails and looked up. “Willie, he makes me happy. Like for really real happy.” “You know what? Fuck it. You deserve to be happy, Juliet. Have a blast. Be free. Swoop this Ian up and have some fun. I say sleep with him.” “Willow!” “I mean it. How many times have you really let yourself go? Took a risk?” “Um, well, I’d say signing that contract with Michael was pretty risky.” “Hell yeah it was, but I guess what I’m saying is, how long since you took a risk on happiness? That whole deal with Michael was just another way for you to keep yourself separate and safe. You know it and I know it.” “I know no such thing!” “Yeah? Well, then what was it?” Juliet didn’t have an answer for her. She stayed silent, trying to come up with a decent response. “Maybe you need this. Maybe you need this guy to come in and sweep you off your feet so you can finally realize that you’re not unlovable.” “I never said I thought I was unlovable.” “You never had to. I know you well enough to figure that out. So your dad spent his time and attention on your step-mom and step-brother. So your mom was busy being happy with her husband. So what? That doesn’t mean anything about what

kind of person you are.” Tears pricked Juliet’s eyes and she absolutely refused to cry. She’d taken too much time with her makeup. “I know none of that matters,” she said around the lump in her throat. “Your head knows it, Julz, but your heart never has. You’re the sweetest, hardest working, most caring, special-est girl I know. Now, you go out there and let that Ian sweep you off your feet. Let him make you feel special. Let him take care of you. Let yourself love him, if it comes to that. But most importantly, have fun!” Juliet thanked her friend and said her goodbyes before dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. She’d never told anyone how alone she’d felt, that she’d deemed herself unlovable. For Willow to have known, for it to have been so clear, it cut her to the quick. What was it Ian had said this morning? New town, new home, new guy, new rules? Juliet decided to take that to heart and make it her Bliss motto. Enough sadness. Enough control. Enough self-doubt. It was time to really and truly take charge of her life and find happiness. Throw caution to the wind. Follow her heart. And if her heart led her straight into Ian Moore’s bed, then so be it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TIRES CRUNCHED into her driveway at precisely seven thirty. Julz hopped up from where she’d perched on the edge of the couch and started towards the door. How about you wait for him to actually knock? You know, maybe try to play it cool? She blew a long breath out through her mouth and wiped her hands on her thighs. It took concentrated effort, but when Ian finally knocked on the door, she walked like a grown woman rather than skipping and running over there like an excited child. Julz threw open the door and her heart stuttered and stammered to see him, the memory of that kiss still lingering heavily on her mind. “Hey,” she said, smiling and biting her lip. He looked absolutely delicious all clean shaven and dressed in a dark gray button up and slacks. Ian took a step back. “Wow.” “You like it?” She spun in a slow circle, knowing his eyes would travel all over her body and liking the way that felt. “Very much. You look spectacular.” Juliet beamed. Ian offered her his hand and he led her down to the M4 and opened the passenger door for her. “Thank you,” she said, sliding into the leather seat and looking up at him. “Of course.” He shut the door and Juliet tracked his progress as he walked around the front of the car. He looked absolutely sexy as all hell. The perfect combination of everything. His dark features giving him that edge of mystery. The nice clothes giving him an aura of luxury. And that little swagger in his step? That swagger that looked damn good in his cowboy boots and jeans? That gave him all

the dominant man edge that Juliet found so attractive. In theory, she reminded herself. Dominant men are only attractive in theory. Ian hopped into the driver’s seat, threw the car in gear and backed out of the driveway. They chatted amicably as he wound his way through the streets of Bliss, pointing out landmarks along the way. It wasn’t long—or at least it didn’t feel too long—before he pulled into the parking lot of a little seaside restaurant, very unassuming in its exterior. “Welcome to Moore Good Eats,” Ian said as she got out of the car, and he offered her his elbow before leading her towards the entrance. “I promise you’ll love everything you order or I’ll personally drag the owner out of the kitchen and give him a noogie.” “That sounds a little extreme.” She made a face. “Extreme and strange.” “I promise you, the owner has earned his fair share of noogies in his lifetime.” “I take it this is a friend of yours?” “Friend, brother. Potato, po-tah-toe.” Juliet paused just inside the door, took in the simple yet elegant decor, unassuming and gorgeous. “This is James’s place?” Somehow, she couldn’t see the gregarious and tattooed James pulling off this level of understated sophistication. “Nope. Harry’s.” Ian nodded at the hostess who greeted him warmly and led them to a table with a view of the ocean. “Just how many brothers do you have?” she asked as Ian slid out her chair for her. “That’s it. James, Harrison, and me. That’s all the Moore men Bliss could handle. Of course, our sister has had the worst time finding a guy at least one of us didn’t want to pummel for some reason or another.” Ian took a seat. “Can I bring you something to drink?” asked the hostess, mostly addressing Ian. “What do you think about red wine, Juliet?” “Haven’t met one I didn’t like.” “Perfect,” replied Ian before turning to the hostess and ordering a bottle of something that sounded trendy and expensive. “You sure know how to spoil a girl,” she said as the hostess disappeared in the maze of candlelit tables. “Or maybe you’re just the kind of girl who deserves spoiling.” Juliet blushed and opened her menu, desperate to hide the goofy grin that slid across her face. “What’s good here?” “It’s run by a Moore. Everything’s good here.” Julz couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, what’s better than good here?” “Do you trust me?” Juliet eyed him. The honest answer was yes, she trusted him. For whatever reason, she felt completely at ease with Ian and she wasn’t even sure what it was about him that made her feel that way. Trust wasn’t something she handed out easily, certainly not to men she’d only known a handful of days. But, she nodded despite herself, going for the truth rather than what she thought the truth should

be. “Good,” he said, taking the menu out of her hands. “Then I’ll order for you.” Juliet’s heart went to war with her head. There was something so appealing about letting Ian order for her, about placing herself in his hands. Yet, she was a strong woman, a capable woman, a woman who shouldn’t let men lead her through life. Just look what happened the last time she signed her decision making rights away to someone else. “You think you know me well enough to order for me?” she asked, keeping her tone light, hoping it hid the battle of intellect and emotion raging inside her. “You think you’re such a closed book that I can’t make a decent stab at it?” “Okay, Mr. Confident,” she said, closing her menu and placing it on the table. “Show me what an open book I am.” Ian pursed his lips and pretended to study her, slitting his eyes as if he intended to see through her into her soul, to discover her deepest secrets and truest truths. When the waitress came back with the wine, Ian ordered them both the same thing. Juliet took a sip of wine and raised her eyebrows. “Wow,” she said, nodding. “That actually sounds delicious.” “Of course it does.” “But you didn’t really take a chance and order what you thought I’d like. You just ordered me what you like.” “And who’s to say I don’t think you’d like the same things I’d like?” There it was again, that crazy happiness that just bloomed out of nowhere and made every single moment seem important and precious. She looked through the window at the ocean, the lights and the patrons of the restaurant reflected in the glass, superimposed on the water. Here she was, surrounded by the sounds of many people gathered in one spot, being made to feel beautiful and special by this handsome man. This handsome man whose kiss had been so deliciously rough and commanding this afternoon. She just wanted more. More kissing. More contact. More Ian Moore. Julz took another drink of her wine. “Wow, this is wonderful!” “It’s my favorite.” “I can see why.” Ian tilted his glass her way before taking a drink of his own. “Okay,” he said, putting his glass down and folding his arms on the table. “Let’s play a game.” “What kind of game?” “The Get to Know You game.” “And just how do you play the Get to Know You game?” “It’s pretty simple. I ask you a question, you answer it truthfully.” Ian held eye contact with her, his face light and open. “And what if I don’t like the question?” “Why wouldn’t you like my question? Do you have a deep, dark secret you don’t

want me knowing about?” You mean like I was a subservient sex slave to the CEO of Tech Lord? Yeah, I don’t want you to know that. “We all have things we want to hide, don’t we?” “I suppose,” said Ian as if he were taking her words into deep consideration. “You can have one pass. But,” Ian held up a finger, “you have to realize that a pass will only make me more curious about the question.” “Of course.” Juliet nodded, folding her own arms on the table and leaning forward. “I won’t pass lightly. And what about me? Do I get to ask you questions?” “Of course. And I’ll bet I can do it without having to pass once.” “You don’t have anything you want to hide?” “Nothing I want to hide from you. I fully intend to wow you tonight.” I fully intend to be wowed by you tonight, she thought to herself. “Alright. The Get to Know You game. Who starts?” Ian smiled and sat back, extending his hands in a gesture of concession. “I’ll even let you go first.” “How very chivalrous of you.” Julz took a moment to consider her question. She didn’t want to get too personal too quickly. That would be better left for when they were deeper into the bottle of wine. “What’s your family like?” “Hmmm. Interesting choice.” Ian nodded and narrowed his eyes again, before smiling and leaning forward, elbows on the table. “My family is wonderfully boring in that we love each other and our family gatherings are pleasant and easy. On the other hand, my family is extraordinary in that we’re all fast-paced and successful in our own rights.” He flared his hands. “No great secrets there.” “Sounds wonderful, actually.” Juliet sat back as their salads arrived, folding her hands in her lap while Ian thanked the waitress and watched her leave. He picked up his fork and stabbed a tomato. “My turn,” he said, popping the bite into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “What inspired you to ask about my family?” he asked after he swallowed. Juliet took a bite to give herself a moment to think. She’d expected to have to give him her favorite color or something simple like that. “It seemed like a good place to start,” she finally said, uncomfortable for some reason. “No.” Ian lifted his eyebrows and pointed his fork at her before using it to hunt another tomato. “I want the real reason. No cop out answers.” The real reason? Did he think there was some kind of underlying something or other hiding inside her question? “I just think family is important is all. I was curious about one that managed to raise a man like you.” His question had her feeling flustered and defensive, even though there was no real reason to feel that way. “Family is important, Juliet. A tree with deep roots laughs at storms.” She tried not to let him see how his words punched her in the stomach. She had no true roots. Had never felt safe or secure in her family. Never felt cherished or adored. She had always been that obligation in the way of her parents getting what they wanted out of life. Keeping her face light, Juliet chose her next question.

“What earned you the title of Lieutenant?” “I was a naval aviator until an injury earned me an honorable discharge.” “A naval aviator? Like, you flew planes?” “I did.” “So, the Top Gun quote wasn’t just by accident then?” “Might be one of my favorite movies.” Ian held up his hands. “Might be part of the reason I wanted to fly planes in the first place.” “What happened?” Juliet picked at her salad. “How did you get hurt?” Ian tsked and pushed his empty salad bowl away. “By my count, you just asked four, maybe five questions. It’s my turn.” “But there’s no way I have any answers as interesting as I fly planes.” “Let me be the judge of that, thank you very much.” Ian paused as the waitress came to clear away their salad plates. “Do you consider yourself a risk taker?” I signed a contract that gave a man complete and utter power over me. I think that’s a pretty decent sized risk. Juliet took another drink of her wine and Ian reached across the table to top off her glass. “Yes. I’d say I take risks.” “Name a few.” She held up her hand. “Nope. It’s my turn. Besides, that’s not a question.” “Exactly, so, we won’t be skipping your turn if you tell me. Plus, you already owe me like six questions as it is.” “I thought you said four or five.” “Interest rates are a bitch.” “Fine.” She thought back. “I went bridge jumping with my friends once. That was pretty risky.” She told him all about the time they’d gone out to some old railroad tracks and walked out over a bridge that stood about thirty feet above a river. “It was all I could do to climb over that railing, to feel it against my back and know that there was nothing between me and a free fall into the water. I was the last one to jump. But when I did, all I can say is wow! I had enough time to think about how long I fell before I hit the water. And then, I was supposed to keep my arms wrapped tight around me, but at the last second I flung them out to my side. They slapped the water so hard it broke blood vessels all up my arms. Had some nasty bruises.” “Ouch.” Ian cringed. “Ever jumped out of a plane?” “Nope. Have you?” He widened his eyes and looked at her like she’d missed something big. “Naval aviator...?” he said when she didn’t make the connection herself. “Oh! Right! Was it amazing?” “Imagine your experience stretched out over many minutes. Well, minus the bruising, I guess.” Juliet felt her eyes go wide. “Wow. I’ve always considered it. I used to wish I was a bird. They always looked so peaceful and free, up there in the sky. Looking down on us all.” “Maybe I’ll take you sometime.”

Juliet’s stomach started flip-flopping and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the thought of actually skydiving, or because of the thought of getting to spend more time with Ian. “I’d like that,” she managed to say, lowering her eyes and looking up at him through her lashes. Ian continued asking questions and answering hers, and it felt like she’d known this man all her life. Like her heart had known he’d existed this whole time and was just waiting for them to finally meet. Like a missing piece of her soul finally fit itself into place. She’d never felt so at ease, so real, so … happy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WATCHING Juliet talk about herself was like watching a strange version of peekaboo. There were these glimpses of pure exuberance that poked through her practiced exterior, filled with such vivid emotion it was like watching a child. Not because she was childish, oh no. Not like that at all. But because she had these moments of uninhibited joy and delight. Like watching her sing and dance in the car while he led her to the house she was going to call home for a while. But she also had so much sadness. This tense jawed, dark eyed sorrow that she tried to hide behind an easy smile. Ian wondered how many people had been fooled by that smile. Or worse, how many people had decided not to care. He wasn’t going to be another one who let her get away with hiding behind her practiced answers and perfectly cultivated responses. Whatever had her so disappointed in her life, whatever it was that hurt her, he was going to find it. And when he did, he’d eradicate all traces of it. There was something special in this woman. Something more than just a gorgeous little body and quick mind. “Oh my God,” she said around her first bite of dinner, one hand covering her mouth. “This is amazing.” Ian had known she would love it, but not because he was fool enough to think he

knew her tastes after a handful of hours spent together. This particular dish was his brother’s specialty and there’s not been one person in Bliss who didn’t crave it. “Was I right?” he asked. Juliet nodded emphatically. “This might be my new favorite meal of all time.” Ian smiled and watched her close her eyes and moan over the next few bites. I’ll give you something else to moan about. And suddenly he was picturing her stretched out on that bed he’d brought her, naked and open to him, her wrists captured in his hands… “What?” she asked, catching him looking at her. Ian took a breath and shook his head. “Just like watching you is all.” She dropped her eyes to her plate as a blush flared across her cheeks. Damn, she was so beautiful. “Okay, I’ve got a question for you,” she said, smiling as if she had a wicked little secret. “What did you find when you Googled me?” She shrugged and flared her hands as if to say she wasn’t offended, just curious. Ian put down his fork. The whole point of the Get to Know You Game was to eventually circle around to Michael Phillips and find out what he could discover. He’d almost talked himself out of going there because he was enjoying himself and didn’t want to alienate her. And yet, here she was, bringing it up herself. This was not a woman to underestimate. Well, if she wasn’t going to pull any punches, than neither would he. “I found a bunch of pictures with you and that guy on the Tech Lord commercials.” “You just won major bonus points for not trying to pass it off like you didn’t Google me. I’d have Googled you if I had a phone that could do it.” She winked at him slyly and took another bite of fish, closing her eyes and looking completely nonplussed. “So,” she said, swallowing, “your turn. I’m sure you have questions.” “Is he the guy you’re running from?” “He is.” She looked concerned for a fraction of a second and that damned flash of fear darkened her eyes and tightened her jaw again. “Does that bother you?” “Not at all.” Ian took a long drink of wine, fighting back a surge of protectiveness. Juliet Lane was not his woman to protect. Yet. “Why are you running?” Now it was her turn to put down her fork and look serious. “I signed a nondisclosure contract.” She studied his face, watching for judgement he was sure, and he did his damndest to make sure his expression stayed open. A non-disclosure? What could have warranted something like that? Corporate espionage? Ian reached across the table and took her hand. “Juliet, are you in trouble?” “I think I was. But I don’t think he knows where I am. I went to a lot of trouble to make sure he couldn’t find me. I think I’m finally safe.” She smiled, clearly uncomfortable and Ian directed the conversation into easier topics, delighted when her smile came back unencumbered. She was safe all right, but not because Michael Phillips wasn’t out looking for her or anything like that. For all Ian knew, Phillips could be waiting on her front porch at this very minute. But that didn’t change the fact that Juliet was safe. Because anything that was

going to get to her, was going have to go through him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WELL, at least the Michael Phillips thing was out in the open. Kind of. Ian didn’t know the whole sordid story, but that’s probably for the best. What would he think of her if he knew she was willing to sign a BDSM contract? That Michael had whipped her? Tied her up and hurt her while she cried big, ugly tears? That even when she’d begged him to stop, he hadn’t stopped? Not even when she’d used her safe word? Not much, that’s what. He’d either think she was crazy, a fool, or damaged goods. But, she had known he would have Googled her. Who didn’t in this day and age? She’d done her own tech-less version of it by talking to Ellie in Good Beginnings yesterday. By bringing it up herself, she could get it out in the open. Well, as in the open as she actually could get it, considering the non-disclosure contract. But it would give him a chance to ask his questions and give her a chance to give him some answers. She’d been afraid that the whole non-disclosure thing would bring their conversation to an awkward halt, all flirtation screeching to a stop and shattering any hopes of the actual bliss Julz hoped to find in Bliss. But Ian handled it gracefully and turned the conversation in a lighter direction. Outside, the sun had set and the ambience in Moore Good Eats grew more and more intimate. Juliet found herself leaning in towards Ian and Ian leaning in towards her, their voices lowering, fingers grazing skin. Eye contact simmering. Heat growing between them. He asked her simple things now, her favorite color, her favorite song, her favorite flower. He asked her about her travels and amazed her with all the places

he’d been while in the Navy. He spoke some more about his family and the love he felt for them—and more importantly from them—was so clear, so evident in the words he chose and the expressions on his face, that Juliet felt a little twinge of regret that she couldn’t reciprocate with stories of her own family. But she talked about Willow and their time together in college and that was close enough. It’d been a long day with a lot of physical work out in the sun. A day that had started at four in the morning. Juliet knew she was exhausted, but she either didn’t feel it or didn’t care. She watched the corners of Ian’s eyes crinkle with his smile, studied his lips as they formed his words, appreciated the way he took in everything around them, the way he noticed and remembered even the smallest detail. After he caught her stifling a yawn for the third or fourth time, he sat back and sighed. “I bet you’re regretting that four o’clock wake up call. Wishing you’d slept in until 6:30 like me, yet?” “Uh-uh. No way. First of all, I’m having way too much fun to be tired. And second of all, I have this feeling that if I’d gotten up later and not been ready when you showed up, I’d have never lived it down.” “Well, now, that’s probably true.” Ian had paid the bill long ago, waving away Juliet’s attempt to pick up the tab with a dismissive shake of his head. Now, he sat back in his chair and lifted his hands in a questioning gesture. “Shall we?” he asked, tilting his head towards the door. “Sure.” Juliet didn’t really mean it. She wasn’t at all ready to let this evening end. Ian stood and put his hand on Juliet’s lower back and led her towards the front door. She wanted to lean into him, to press her body against his, but she didn’t want to seem too eager, too friendly. Which was silly, she knew, considering the heat in the kiss they’d shared on her back porch this afternoon. The way he’d wrapped his fist into her ponytail and pulled, tilting her head back so he could kiss along her neckline. Good lord, yes please! She spent the entire car ride back to her house thinking about sliding her hands up his thigh and rubbing him until he got hard, then unzipping his pants and freeing him, unbuckling herself and leaning over, swirling her tongue around the head of his dick, listening to him gasp as he tried to focus on driving. “Juliet?” Ian was glancing between her and the road, a question on his face. “You weren’t even paying attention to me, were you?” Oh, I was paying attention to you. “Sorry, my mind wandered a little.” “Oh yeah, to what?” Somehow, she got the feeling that he knew just where her mind had been. Oh no! Had she been staring at his crotch? Well, he’d either caught her or he hadn’t, but it didn't really matter. She figured she’d go with the truth. “You. I was thinking about you.” “But I’m right here.”

“Yep. And I like being right here with you.” “You do?” Ian smiled without taking his eyes off the road. “Good.” Way before she was ready, Ian pulled up next to her Hyundai in her new driveway. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked before she realized just how sparse her drink selection was. “I mean, I’ve got water, in your very own glass if you remember, coffee, and, well, that’s about it.” Ian turned to her. “I’d love to come in.” It wasn’t lost on Juliet that he hadn’t said anything about wanting something to drink. She undid her seat belt and slid out of the car, suddenly very nervous. What the hell was she doing? Seducing her landlord? What good could possibly come of this? All kinds of good, her heart told her head. She fumbled in her purse for her keys and just as she found them, Ian took her face in his hands and kissed her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, tasting sweet like wine. Her body responded urgently, a fire building deep in her center. She slid her hands up his hard chest and around his shoulders, the keys jingling lightly with the movement, and pulled herself closer to him, needing more contact. More. Just plain more. Ian stepped out of the kiss. “I’m not really thirsty,” he said, and took the keys from her hand and let them into her house. No sooner had he closed and locked the door behind him, did he have her in his arms again, his mouth trailing kisses over her mouth and her jaw, nuzzling into her hair and biting lightly on her earlobe, all the while, backing her up until she was pressed between Ian and the door. He gathered both of her wrists in his hands and pinned them over her head. Juliet gasped, and tried to pull them away, but Ian held her tight. She wasn’t supposed to like this, wasn’t supposed to let him restrain her, but her body clenched with need, and a moan escaped her parted lips. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked against her lips, while his free hand cupped her breast and squeezed. “You like it when I take control.” “Yes.” She bit her lip against the ‘Sir’ that was almost instinctive at this point. “And what about this?” he asked as he used his knee to spread her legs and slid a hand under her dress, stopping at the edge of her panties. “Do you like this?” “Yes. Oh God, yes.” He slid the edge of her panties aside and traced her crease with one finger. “You’re so wet, Juliet.” And then he plunged his finger inside her, moved it in and out ever so slowly, teasing her. She pressed her hips forward, desperate for more friction, and cried out when he started to move his thumb in slow circles on her clit. “Please,” she managed between hitching breaths. “Please what?” “I need more, Ian.” He released her wrists and her hands flew to his zipper, desperate to free his hard cock, to run her hands over his length, to get down on her knees and put him in her mouth. “Greedy girl,” he murmured.

“Damn right I’m greedy,” she said as she wrestled with the button on his pants and finally managed to get the zipper down, pulling his boxer briefs down with his pants so they gathered at his feet. She gasped as he sprung free. “So big!” He growled at her words, a low sound that made her panties even more wet than the already were. “Upstairs,” he said. “Now.” She didn’t obey his order. Her days of obeying men were long gone. Instead, she dropped to her knees in front of him and ran her tongue over his tip, tasting the bit of clear fluid beading there. Her heart raced when he groaned, exhilarated to feel in control for the first time in a long time. In control of his pleasure, in control over whether she went upstairs like a good girl or got down on her knees and put him in her mouth like she wanted. “You’re being a very bad girl, Juliet,” Ian said and threw his head back as she took him all the way to the back of her throat. “But it feels so good.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling just a little hard, and when she looked up at him, he was watching her, his mouth open, his eyes burning with desire. “That’s enough,” he said. “I need to see you.” Ian pulled Juliet to her feet and unzipped her little red dress, pulled it down her shoulders and stepped back as it hit the ground at her feet. “Fucking black lace,” he muttered, eyeing her hungrily. “Your turn,” said Juliet and stepped in close to unbutton his shirt. “Upstairs,” Ian growled and Juliet obeyed, turning slowly. “Nope,” he said when he saw that her panties were actually a thong. “Changed my mind. Too far away.” He grabbed her and threw her over a shoulder. Carried her the few steps to the couch while she squealed and laughed and then lowered her down carefully. “So beautiful,” he said. “But so bad.” And with that, he flipped her over and slapped her ass. Not hard, but Juliet yelped. Cringed in anticipation of the next slap, the one that was sure to be harder, and the next one after that, when she’d start to cry. But, instead of pain came pleasure as Ian slid her panties to the side and dipped his fingers into her again. Instead of crying out, she moaned. He knew just how to touch her. She backed her hips up towards his hand, needing more, needing all of him. He pulled his fingers out and slapped her ass again, and then his fingers were right back inside her, moving so deliciously and she could feel an orgasm building inside her. “Oh, Ian! You’re gonna make me come!” “Do it. Come for me, baby.” And as if all her body needed was his permission, her muscles clenched around his fingers and she rode wave after wave of pleasure as he continued to move inside her. As her breathing slowed, Ian pulled away and Julz flipped over. Couldn’t help but smile as she got another eyeful of him. But he wasn’t in the mood to show off. Ian stretched out over top of her and pressed just the tip of his dick against her folds, and then didn’t move. “Shit. Let me get a condom.” He started to move away, but Juliet grabbed his hips and held him in place. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. Had to get checked as part of the contract I signed with Michael.” Oh shit, that might have been the worst thing to say right now. Juliet

turned her face to the side and swallowed, afraid he’d pull away and leave, utterly turned off. “Look at me, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever be afraid to look me in the eyes.” He waited until she turned her head and met his gaze and then he pushed forward, sheathing himself deep within her, slowly, inch by delicious inch. Her mouth opened as he stretched her, filled her and it truly was as if he was everything she’d been missing her whole life. He hit a place deep inside her, a place that no one had ever touched before and as he plunged in again and again, she felt an orgasm building like none that had ever come before it. She called out, unable to stay silent in the wake of such pleasure and still, he hit that spot again and again and her muscles started to clench, tighter and tighter still until she cried out his name. “Ian!” And it was her soul calling to his and he answered it with a yell of his own, his eyes rolling back as he spurted inside her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JULIET WOKE in a tangle of sheets and a pool of sunshine that streamed through the window. At some point during the night—or maybe it was late enough in the evening to be morning—Juliet and Ian made it upstairs into her bed, although it had been awhile before they’d actually fallen asleep, seeing as how they were too distracted by each other’s bodies. Stretching, she pulled herself into a sitting position and smiled at the view of the ocean. This. She could definitely wake up like this every morning. Her body limp from pleasure, aching a little with the memory of Ian inside her. The sun rising over the water just outside her window. That was, until she noticed she was alone. That instead of waking up in a tangle of arms and legs, she’d woken as the sole occupant of her bed. Had he left? Oh God. Was that a one night stand? See, said her head to her heart, I told you not to get involved with your landlord. And then she heard the opening and closing of her cabinet doors, the hiss of the coffee pot, and the ever so welcome scent of coffee came wafting up the stairs. Stopping to slide on a pair of panties and a t-shirt, Juliet padded down to the kitchen. “Morning,” she said and Ian smiled, looking absolutely tasty in his dress pants and bare chest, his hair rumpled from sleep. At his feet, Lulu was working on the breakfast Ian had poured into her bowl. “I was gonna surprise you with breakfast, but…” He gestured around the kitchen and all the open, empty cabinets. “You don’t have anything to actually

make breakfast with.” “That’s not totally true.” Julz bent and picked out her little egg pan from underneath the stove. “I’ve got this.” “I suppose that would work, if we wanted to have breakfast at noon.” He took the pan from her and set it down. “Now come here,” he said, pulling her close. “You should have to walk around like that all the time, just a t-shirt and miles of leg out on display.” He kissed her, his hands sliding up her back, raising goosebumps at the contact. “I did make coffee,” he said, his lips brushing hers. “But you only have one mug.” “Yeah, but it’s a damn good mug.” “It is a mighty fine mug.” Juliet beamed. She loved that mug. She had no idea why, it was just a chunky thing she’d picked up from a vendor on the street, but it was one of the first things she’d ever bought herself. “It’d be too much to hope that you like your coffee with cream and sugar so we could share, right?” “Cream and sugar? I’m sorry, I can’t be with someone who does that to her coffee.” Ian shook his head disdainfully and leaned back on the counter, his abs flexing. Juliet couldn’t stop herself from staring. “I suppose a pilot with the body of an Adonis and ability to totally tear apart a porch and put it back together again just takes his coffee strong and black.” “Shows what you know. I like mine with cream.” He gave Juliet a little ‘I told you so’ look and pressed off the counter. “Well, here’s the thing, Lt. Moore, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll show you what years of supporting myself through college has taught me.” Juliet poured his coffee while Ian sat at the table, leaning back in the chair and crossing his long legs, his eyes tracking her every movement. She made his coffee in her favorite chunky mug, stopping to make sure she added the right amount of cream and then smiled as she reached up into the cabinet for a bowl. Ian raised his eyebrows. “You’re not serious.” “Oh, I’m totally serious.” Juliet poured coffee into the bowl and added her cream and sugar and carefully took a sip, using both hands to keep from spilling. “See,” she said, lowering the bowl to the counter. “Totally works.” “If you say so,” Ian said, laughter in his voice, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Now, almighty Queen of Not Enough Stuff, just how on Earth are you going to cook us a breakfast using one little egg pan? I am a man, after all. A man who worked up one hell of an appetite last night.” Juliet beamed, the smile working its way up from somewhere in her toes and radiating through her entire body. She wished she had the perfect response, witty and charming, but came up with nothing more than a monstrous blush working its way across her cheeks. How is it that he’s able to make her come so undone? How is it that he manages to get in under her practiced exterior and leave her speechless time and time again? She bent to grab a baking sheet out from under the stove, totally aware that her t-shirt had ridden up and was showing a good bit of her lace

panties. Take that, Ian Moore, she thought. That’s just what you get for making me blush. A quick glance over her shoulder as she straightened showed her that Ian had definitely noticed the panties. He watched with curiosity as she turned on the oven and took down a large bowl, poured some flour, milk, and just a little butter into it and started mixing with her hands. “Don’t tell me you’re making homemade biscuits. I thought you were a city girl.” “A city girl who had to learn to make it without a lot of disposable income. Biscuits are cheap and filling.” After making the biscuits, she plopped a few on the baking sheet and stretched out a few pieces of bacon beside them before sliding it all into the oven. “Okay,” Ian said after taking a drink of his coffee. “It’s time for another round of the Get to Know You Game.” Lulu wandered over to him and stood on her hind legs, put her front paws on his leg, and wagged her tail furiously. Ian absently scratched her head and Juliet smiled. Michael would have kicked the little dog away, complaining about dog hair on his suit pants or any other number of annoyances. “Sounds good.” Juliet pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge and contemplated the rest of her kitchenware. She could make an omelet in the microwave, but that wasn’t exactly delicious and she really wanted to wow Ian this morning. “You go first.” She put her egg pan on the stove and turned on the burner. “How come you had to support yourself through college?” “You really go for the tough questions, don’t you?” Juliet smiled at Ian over the edge of her bowl of coffee. “Enquiring minds,” he said, flaring his hands in an apology. “If it’s not a good topic, feel free to pass.” The wicked grin he gave her told Juliet that passing would be a terrible idea. Plus, as uncomfortable as she was talking about her family, she had the whole BDSM contract with Michael Phillips thing she should probably save her pass for. “Oh, no. You told me passing would only make you more curious than you already were.” Julz sprayed the egg pan with some non-stick oil and cracked an egg. It sizzled as she poured it into the hot pan and the sound mingled with the ever present rhythm of the waves against the shore. The smell of coffee and bacon and biscuits filled the open kitchen while sunlight streamed in through the windows, splashing light on the floor and walls. The contrast of this morning against the cold and razor sharp mornings she’d had in New York was powerful. “Why did I have to support myself?” she asked as she slid the first egg out of the pan and cracked a second. “It was the only choice I had. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to prove I could succeed, that I was worthwhile, and I didn’t have a lot of support from my parents.” “So, you just did what needed to be done. Learned to make biscuits and drink coffee out of bowls.” “That’s exactly what I did. Learned to do things on my own, with what I had at

the time. My mom was busy following her dreams, proud that she’d raised such an independent woman, and my dad was too busy with his new family to care about what I was doing.” Juliet pulled the biscuits and bacon out of the oven and went to work making breakfast sandwiches that she then plated and served. It took a lot out her to make those statements and not get emotional. She took a bite of her egg sandwich to try to work around the lump forming in her throat. She’d spent so much time feeling alone. Loved, sure. Her parents loved her, but they didn’t care about her. Not the way she needed them to. Ian eyed her and she could see an army of questions hanging out in the tight spot between his eyebrows. She smiled, not wanting to darken the mood of the morning. Her past was behind her. Sure, it had left its mark on her, but she wasn’t going to keep letting it hurt her. Not anymore. “My turn,” she said while Ian took his first bite. He groaned and closed his eyes in pleasure. “Oh, Juliet,” he said around a mouthful of biscuit. “You keep feeding me like this and you might never get rid of me.” “You say that like I’m going to want to,” she replied before she knew what she was saying. Good lord. Way to get clingy. Another bite of sandwich and a long, awkward drink of coffee to cover up her embarrassment. “How come you’re flipping houses instead of flying planes? Flying was your life-long dream, right?” “Talk about tough questions.” Ian didn’t look at all playful and Juliet regretted her question. She had wanted to keep the atmosphere light, not dredge up old pain points. Ian took a deep breath and let it out before sitting back and running a hand through his hair. He turned his head away from Juliet and gave his answer to the ocean. “On my last flight, my plane malfunctioned and we crash landed. The plane was mangled and my co-pilot was stuck, bleeding and unconscious. I did everything I could to get him out, tore a bunch of ligaments in my back and shoulders trying. But I couldn’t get him out. And the damn thing caught fire and I kept right on trying until my hands burned, but I finally had to give up and leave him.” Juliet set her sandwich down on her plate. “Shit. I’m sorry.” How else could she respond to that? What could she say in the wake of such awfulness? Here she was carrying around the scars of a family that loved her but didn’t coddle her, and he’s smiling through tragedy like that. Ian looked her in the face and finally smiled, leaned forward and took another bite of his breakfast, moaning in appreciation. By the time he swallowed, the darkness had left his eyes. “I’m okay, I really am. I just chose not to fly anymore in order to make a clean break. Rebuild myself and my life and not live in the wake of the accident. We all have things that break us, but we get stronger each time we put ourselves back together. Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” “Einstein said that. It’s one of my favorite quotes.” Ian smiled. “Mine, too. Next question. What other quotes do you have rattling around up there?”

Juliet thought for a moment. “Luck is what happens when opportunity meets preparation.” Ian nodded in appreciation. “Another great one.” “What about you? Anymore inspirational quotes?” “Milton Berle said ‘if opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door.’ I’ve tried to build my life around that one.” “Oh, that’s a good one! I think I kind of live my life that way already.” “Sounds like it.” They finished their breakfast while playing the Get to Know You Game. Over and over, they found things they shared in common. Similarities in thought and in their approach to life and the problems that came with living. They laughed and they joked and the coffee had long gone cold when Ian finally stood up from the table and stretched. “I don’t think we’re gonna get much work done on the deck today. We’ve talked away the morning and it looks like a hot one out there. I do need to get going though, have a few things I need to get done today.” Juliet couldn’t help but pout. She didn’t want him to leave. Not one bit. But, she’d already done the strange, clingy thing once this morning. No need to do it again. She gathered the dishes from the table while Ian located the rest of his clothes. It was a definite shame to cover up a chest like that with a shirt, even though he still looked hot as hell as he raked his hands through his hair, trying to set it to rights. “I’ll see you in the morning?” she asked as they headed towards the door. Ian took a step back and let his eyes sweep over her body. “Only if you promise to look like that,” he said and pulled her in for a kiss, tracing a hand up her back and wrapping it in her hair, the other one squeezing her breast through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. “Okay,” she breathed when he finally pulled his mouth from hers. “I’ll promise to look like this as long as you promise to do that throughout the day.” “Sold.” Ian kissed her forehead and stepped out of the embrace “You have a nice day, Lt. Moore.” He snapped into a sharp salute, face hard and eyes stoic, jaw set and chest out. “Yes, ma’am!” And then the naval aviator dissolved into the playful Ian Moore reappeared and he slid one eye closed in a wink. “Mostly because I’ll be thinking about you.” And then, before she could think of anything clever to say, he swept through the door and hopped into his car, waving as he pulled out of the driveway. Juliet closed the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. Chest heaving. Was this really her life? Could she finally be on the brink of some kind of happily ever after? Living out her dream in a home near the sea, with a man who took her breath away every time he came near? “I don’t know, Lulu,” she said, sweeping the little dog up into her arms. “Whatever this is, I’m going to enjoy it while I have it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IF IAN WANTED her wearing next to nothing in the morning, well, she’d surprise him and do just that. She had a bikini and some little shorts that she’d wear when he showed up, but that meant she’d need to go up to the bath for some personal grooming. Carrying Lulu up with her, Juliet hummed to the dog, just a silly little melody she’d made up when she was a child and kept in her head as she grew. It made her happy. Always had. And it came to her when she was happiest. The dog’s nails clicked on the tile when Julz set her down. “Not exactly spa quality, but we’ve been in worse, haven’t we?” Juliet asked and Lulu cocked her head to the side as if to agree. Dirt caked on the edges of the aged tiles and dust gathered in sticky clumps at the walls. Yellow water and rust stains sullied the sides of the tub and sink and someone had painted the walls an obscene gold. But all that was fixable. It wouldn’t take much. Juliet could clean the dirt and paint the walls. She was sure Ian knew how to replace the tile and wouldn’t be surprised to learn he could replace the sink and tub as well. Still humming she filled the bath and climbed in, sighing as the water made its way up to her shoulders. As she shaved, she grew quiet, the happy melody chased away by worrisome thoughts she didn’t even know she was having until she realized she’d stopped singing. What if Ian was actually another alpha male who wanted to control her, to hurt her, to make her his and take her away from herself? He seemed kind and giving … sure he was confident and liked to take charge, but he didn’t seem like … well … an asshole like Michael. But, she only met him a few days ago. Anyone can fake a

persona for a few days. Right? Her heart argued with her head, pointing out all the good things he’d done for her, all the ways he’d made her feel special and cared for. But her head went right ahead and pointed out just how those good things proved Ian was dangerous. He had ordered for her at the restaurant. He had brought her furniture without asking if it was okay. He had gripped her hands above her head, trapping her against the door and only held tighter when she’d squirmed. And then, he’d smacked her right on the ass. Hard. And those things were all true, but he’d known what the specialty was at the restaurant. And she’d needed furniture. And she liked having him hold her wrists like that. It made her lower muscles clench even now, just thinking about it. And the smack on the ass? He’d followed it up by rubbing his hand over the spot, soothing her, and then plunging his fingers inside her and making her feel musclequiveringly good before he’d gone ahead and done it again. And she had liked that too. Thing is, just because she liked it didn’t mean it was good for her. Right? She’d just have to take it easy and pay attention. If it seemed like he was trying to take over her life, or order her around, or—she shivered—got too aggressive with her, then she would, what? Move out? She laughed a little, the sound echoing against the tile and bit her lip. That would have to be something she decided if she ever got to that point. If. If she ever got to that point. Ian Moore was not Michael Phillips. And for that matter, Ian had more reasons to judge Juliet than she ever had to judge him. She shuddered to think about what he might do if he found out about all the things she’d done with Michael. It didn’t matter at all that she didn’t like what he had done. What mattered was that she had let him do it. Julz puffed out her cheeks and let the water out of the tub. So much for that great day she thought she was going to have. These were some awfully heavy thoughts for a day with no deadline but bedtime. Time to stop dwelling on dark topics and start enjoying getting to live right next to the ocean. She slipped on her bikini, grabbed a towel, some sunscreen, sunglasses, and her cellphone and then stepped out the back door and still had to shield her eyes against the sun. Ian was right, it was a hot one. And it was barely April! She’d still be wishing for a coat in New York. She couldn’t help the smile as she crossed the porch, looking down at the section she’d helped Ian repair yesterday. It felt good, seeing those clean sections of strong wood, knowing that she had helped put them there. By the time she finished the short walk down to the beach, her mood had already brightened. It’d be impossible to keep a dark mood with the sun beating down on her shoulders, the wind blowing off the ocean and cooling the sweat that had already formed on her

brow. She dropped her stuff on the beach and kept walking until her toes touched the water. A wave rolled in and frothed around her ankles while the sun glistened out across the miles of blue sea that disappeared into blue sky. Julz raised her arms and took a deep breath and tears of gratitude pricked her eyes. In all her years, she had never felt so happy. So relaxed. She dug her toes into the damp sand, watched the water dig deep holes around her feet and it was like she had finally come home. Like all those years of forcing a smile were over because, here, in Bliss, her smile just showed up on its own. Deciding against a swim in favor of stretching out on her towel and baking in the sun, Juliet headed back to her stuff. She sprayed some sunscreen across her body, remembering Ian’s hands and mouth on her breasts, and smiled despite her reservations about him. Picked up her phone and found a text from Ian. I missed you the moment I walked out your door. Counting the hours until the morning. Juliet tapped the phone against her smile, feeling good from the inside out. It only took her a moment to figure out how to respond. You make me feel better than I’ve ever felt. Of course, she instantly questioned the clingy factor the minute she hit send, but brushed the thought away. It only took a few minutes for a text to come back in. And just think, I’m only getting started. If this was his warm up, she couldn’t wait for the real deal. She even considered texting him that, but decided against it and called Willow instead, not even worrying about using her secret code. Willow picked up after the first ring. “Hey!” “Hey yourself!” “Well you sound pretty damn relaxed. I take it things went well with Mr. Amazing?” “I guess you could say that.” “Did you do it? Did you throw caution to the wind and sleep with him?” “Willow! You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Willow laughed. “Bullshit. You most definitely tell. Hell, you even told when you were contractually obligated not to.” Worry clenched Juliet’s stomach. It’d been a long night of drinking followed by a long night of sharing secrets when she’d told Willow about her arrangement with Michael. She trusted Willow, but the fact that she’d gone against her word didn’t sit well with her. “Stop getting mad at yourself about it,” Willow said after a few seconds of silence on Juliet’s end. “I'm not.” “Sure you are. Of course you are. I know it bothers you that you broke your word. But come on, Julz. For one thing, I’m basically just an extension of you, so there’s no way you could have not told me. And for another, you were in a pretty shitty

situation and needed to talk. I’d have been pissed if you ended up losing your shit or getting hurt and you’d never told me.” “Yeah, yeah,” Juliet said with a smile. “I suppose you want me to tell you you’re right or something.” “Nope. I want you to tell me all about this guy. What’s his name again?” “Ian.” “Listen to you,” Willow said happily. “You can’t say his name without gushing.” “I’m not gushing.” “You most definitely just gushed. That was a gush if I’ve ever heard one.” Juliet laughed and flipped over, and a bead of sweat worked its way down her neck and in between her breasts. “Well,” she drew the word out, not sure how much she really wanted to share. Part of her wanted to keep Ian all to herself rather than share him with Willow. “Let’s just say that I’ve been happier in these last few days than I’ve ever been in my life. Ever. I love it here. And he makes me feel…” She trailed off, not sure what word to use that meant all the things he made her feel. “And there you are, still gushing.” “Fine. I’m gushing. He’s awesome enough to make me gush.” And scary as hell, she thought, but didn’t say. “Well, I’m happy that you’re happy. But Julz? Do me a favor, okay? Be careful. Don’t rush into another mistake.” Of course Willow would echo her exact sentiments. “I will. I mean, I won’t. I mean, I’ll be careful and I won’t rush in,” she clarified as Willow laughed on the other end. “Sure. This from the girl who’s already moved into his house and spent a night in his bed!” Juliet didn’t have a good response to that, not one that made a lot of sense anyway. They chatted a few more minutes. Willow told her about the latest party she’d been to and Julz realized she really didn’t miss the frenetic energy of the city at all. Just listening to Willow’s story exhausted her. She’d take a slow morning and the rush of the waves over the hectic rush of living in New York any day.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

HOLY SHIT. Juliet Lane might be the hottest woman Ian had ever slept with. So eager, so willing, so unrestrained. And yet there’d been moments when he’d worried he was being too rough with her. She’d tried to pull her wrists out of his hands when he’d first pinned them over her head on the door. She’d relaxed right after, even told him yes when he’d asked if she liked it when he took control. But then she’d yelped when he’d slapped that sweet ass the first time, and he’d sworn that there’d been fear in her eyes when she turned around to look at him. Of course, he’d made sure that fear had dissipated, made sure to take the sting away and make her feel good and, oh boy, had she reacted well to that. Ian sat back in his recliner and kicked his feet back, took a swig of his beer and watched the moon rise over the ocean. Couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Juliet was sitting in her living room, those long legs tucked underneath her, watching the moon rise, too. God, she was beautiful. As if she had been crafted exactly to his specifications. That long brown hair, those wide brown eyes, those perky little tits, and that silky skin that felt so damn good under his hands. Well, maybe she wasn’t made exactly to his specifications. He had kept things pretty tame last night and she hadn’t exactly seemed comfortable. Holding her wrists above her head? He would have loved to tie her down. One or two little slaps

on that ass? He could have taken a whole evening, alternating between spanking her cheeks red and sliding his fingers into her wet pussy, bringing her to the brink of orgasm only to pull his fingers out and slap her again. Mixing pleasure with pain until she was a quivering mess of sensation. And then he’d fuck her until she came all over his dick and he came, gloriously, inside her. Just thinking about it made him hard. He adjusted his pants before taking another swig of his beer. His gut kept telling him that Juliet Lane wasn’t a broken little bird, too scared to push the limits of her sexuality, but her reactions last night hadn’t exactly made him feel comfortable that he was thinking with the right head. He would just have to find out how far he could go with her. Just push her a little farther each time they were together, make sure she always came first. Make sure she always knew he would take care of her and keep her safe. And then bring her to the very limits of sensation. If she wouldn’t let him take charge, if she wasn’t willing to experiment, well, that would be pretty damn disappointing, because Ian was the way he was and he couldn’t change that. He liked his sex rough and his women pliant. He’d share the pleasure he got from making her pliable, give Juliet the best orgasms of her life, but if she couldn’t trust him, then he couldn’t be with her. And that thought brought his hard on crashing down because he really liked being with Juliet. She made him laugh and laughed at his jokes in return. She was clearly driven, capable of taking care of herself, but something told Ian she didn’t like having to do it all herself. That she’d love to have someone step in and take the reins. And if that’s what she wanted, then Ian was the one to do it. He’d wrap his arm around her shoulders and guide her through the hard parts, protecting her, caring for her, keeping her safe. “What the hell?” he asked his empty living room. “Slow down, Moore. Cart before the horse.” He drank the last of his beer and clinked the tip of the empty bottle against his chin. If he was having thoughts like that, he was definitely going to have to find out if Juliet could handle his more demanding sexual appetites sooner rather than later. He couldn’t let her get any further into his heart if she wasn’t going to be a good match from him. Good thing was, he’d have one hell of a good time finding out how far he could take her. Ian wandered into the kitchen for another beer, his mind circling with thoughts of Juliet, alternating between how much fun he had being inside her and how much fun he had being with her. For whatever reason, he zeroed in on the fear he thought he’d seen in her eyes when he’d spanked her and he stopped dead in his tracks. He’d seen that fear before. In the pictures he saw online of her with Michael Phillips. The same pictures that showed just the faintest of healing bruises, probably invisible to most people. But Ian wasn’t most people. Anger clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. Had Phillips hurt Juliet? Had he left those bruises on that delicious body? Had he left that fear in those soulful brown eyes? Damn it. That changed everything. If she’d been hurt like

that before, he couldn’t just try to test her limits for his own pleasure. He needed to know what she’d been through. He needed to know how she’d been hurt. And if Phillips had hurt her? Then her reactions last night only proved that Juliet did trust Ian. That she was willing to go where Ian could take her, and damn it, that only made him want to be with her more. To erase the scars left by that asshole. To show her what it was like to be with a man worthy of trust. He thought back to the pain that had flashed on her face when they discussed her parents this morning. The way she took having nothing in stride, drinking her damn coffee out of a bowl and smiling about it. How many years had she navigated murky waters all by herself? That indomitable spirit keeping her afloat when so many other people would have sunken down into the depths of despair? Ian swiped a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap open, tossed it onto the granite counter and took a long drink as it clinked towards the sink. Whatever she’d been through, however hard it’d been, he was going to make it better. He was going to take her hand and guide her to shore, give her more reasons to flash him with that radiant smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY

JULIET DID greet Ian in her bikini the next morning. He had an armful of bags and boxes that he just put down the moment he stepped inside her house so he could swoop her up. “Well good morning to you, too,” she said, giggling as he carried her up the stairs. “Oh, I'll make it a good morning, alright.” Ian tossed her on the bed and went about doing just that. Later, with her hair all mussed and her body all relaxed, Ian led her back downstairs and showed her what he'd brought—a whole kitchen's worth of pots and pans, plates and dishes, and an entire cupboard full of coffee mugs. “I take care of the things that matter to me,” he said over her protests. “I even brought some stuff for Chopper.” “I thought you didn't like Lulu.” Julz emphasized the dog's proper name. “Of course I like her. She brought us together, didn't she?” After taking the time to carefully arrange all the things Ian brought her, they headed back outside to start on the deck again. Juliet felt joyful as she worked. So joyful that she found herself humming time and time again and had to remind herself to keep quiet so as not to annoy Ian. It was on the third day working out in the sun, their bodies glistening with sweat and sunscreen, that he asked her not to stop. “What’s that you keep humming?” he asked. “Just something I made up when I was a kid. Sneaks up on me sometimes when

I’m happy. Sorry,” she said, swiping a hand across her brow. “I’ll stop.” “Don’t you dare. It makes me happy, too.” That was four days ago and the thought still made Juliet smile. Another one of those real ones, the kind she didn’t have to create, the kind that simply showed up all on its own. This morning, she was out on the completely redone back deck, greeting the sunrise with Lulu. Standing on the freshly stained wood, satisfaction rolled through her. She had done this. She had helped pry away the rotting boards and replaced them with new, strong wood. Yanked rusted nails out and driven solid ones into place. She had rebuilt this, well, helped rebuild it. Ian had guided her through the process, giving clear instructions, laughing off her mistakes and helping her make them right. It was way more symbolic than she could handle. The deck a not so thinly veiled metaphor for her life. And with Ian there? Helping her, so strong and kind. Telling her how to succeed... It was dangerous. Dangerous enough that her heart yearned for him when he wasn’t with her in the evenings. And she wasn't supposed to yearn for anyone, right? She was supposed to be able to do this all on her own. But the more time she spent with Ian, the more she believed he was nothing but good for her. She felt stronger. In all ways. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and after days working outside, physically, too. Her body was harder and darker while her soul was lighter and damn, if that didn’t feel good. The crunch of tires on her driveway brought another huge smile to her face. Ian was here and that sent her heart leaping out of her chest and those wonderful butterflies fluttering around in her belly. She ambled around the deck to greet him and frowned to see his M4 instead of the truck. “Mornin’, hot stuff,” he said as he unfolded his long frame from the small car. “I hate to say it, but you’re gonna need to change.” Confusion danced around in her head, the change in routine making her uncomfortable. Was something wrong? Was he about to drop some terrible piece of bad news in her lap now that she was finally starting to feel good and happy? “What’s up?” she asked, her hands coming to her hips. The smile that blossomed on Ian’s face settled the concern a little. “It’s a surprise. Go change. No skirts. And wear sneakers.” No skirts? Sneakers? What in the world did he have in mind? She opened the door and Lulu burst through, raced right past her and yipped happily at Ian’s feet. Juliet heard him chuckle and pick the dog up and couldn’t help but giggle to herself when he called her Chopper. Her wardrobe choices were still pretty limited. Ian had kept her busy with the renovations and she hadn’t even started looking for a job, yet. She sighed. This little vacation from reality was going to have to come to an end sooner rather than later. She hadn’t had to dip into her cash envelope much, just for food, but knowing there was a consistent outflow of money without a consistent inflow made her nervous. But, as usual with Ian, now was not the time to think about that. She

chose shorts and a tank top, checked the mirror and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, smoothing back the fly-aways and wishing she knew where they were going. “I didn’t know what to put on,” she said as she rejoined Ian outside. His eyes swept over her and the hunger in his gaze set the butterflies whirling again. “You’re perfect.” They put Lulu in the house and locked the door. Ian pulled Juliet in for a kiss, his hands roving her body, their tongues slow dancing as they stood in her driveway with the sun blazing to life behind the house. He pulled her closer, pressed her hips forward and she moaned. “I could stay right here all day,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “Me too.” “But we can’t.” He pulled away and guided her to the car, opening the door for her and closing it once she’d tucked her feet inside. “Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled out of the driveway and headed in the opposite direction of Bliss. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Ian used what Juliet had come to think of as his Navy voice. It was firm and confident, slightly lower and colder than the way he usually spoke to her. “If you killed me, we couldn’t have all this fun together anymore.” Ian laughed, his gaze bouncing between Juliet and the road. “You make a good point.” “I always do,” she said and gave him a little shrug of her shoulders. The drive was long and winding and once again, Juliet found herself considering leaning across the seat and giving him a blow job while he drived. What was it about this guy? She’d never, not once, done such a thing and here she was contemplating it in broad daylight. For the second time. “Talk to me, Goose,” Ian said, interrupting her thoughts with his favorite Top Gun quote. “Where’s your head?” “In the gutter.” She gave him her best wicked smile. “Right where I like it.” Ian let his eyes flicker over Juliet’s face. “Feel like sharing?” “Not really.” Juliet said it but didn’t mean it. She just wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to say what was on her mind. “Well that’s not good.” Ian frowned. “I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything.” “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” “And see? We’ve come full circle. If you killed me, we couldn’t do whatever it is your dirty little mind is working on right now.” Juliet pretended to consider his point. “I’m not sure I’m brave enough to do what my dirty little mind is working on.” She was on the verge of telling him, looking forward to the shock that would play across his face. “That’s why you’ve got me. To hold your hands through the scary parts.”

Something warm and welcome blazed through Juliet’s heart. How did he know how to make her feel so good? “But if you hold my hands, I won’t be able to do what I’m thinking about doing.” Confusion pursed his eyebrows. Juliet had learned that Ian loved to figure things out. He didn’t want to be given the answer, he liked to find it himself. She waited while that quick mind of his worked through what she’d said and when realization dawned across his face, she dropped her gaze and smiled up at him through her lashes, a blush flaring hot and pink across her cheeks. Ian smiled at her, an exhilarating mix of shock and pride. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” “Sure am.” Juliet sat back, filled to the brim with self-satisfaction. It looked like Ian liked her idea as much as she did and when she ran her hand up his thigh, stopping for a second to squeeze the strong quadriceps encased in his jeans, she got the encouragement she needed when she felt the hard bulge at his crotch. Ian sighed and dropped his head back to the headrest, his hands clenched tight on the wheel. “As much as I’d love to see how far you’re willing to go here, you’re gonna have to stop.” Embarrassment crushed the little flare of excitement in Juliet’s heart. Had she misread his reaction? “I’m sorry,” she said, snatching her hand back. “Don’t be.” Ian rolled his shoulders and blew air out of his mouth. “I’m all for what you had in mind, you dirty little thing you, but we’re getting close to our destination and I can’t go in anywhere looking like I do now.” He glanced down at his jeans, the outline of his erection clear and distinct. “The things you do to me should be illegal.” That sweet edge of satisfaction worked its way back into Juliet’s chest and she sat back in her seat with a sigh. “Ditto.” “That’s all I get? Ditto? Dang. And here I thought I was rocking your world.” “You leave me speechless. You’re lucky you even get a ditto.” “And see, there you go, making another good point.” Ian slowed and flicked on a turn signal. Juliet looked around, trying to get an idea as to what they were doing, but they were in the middle of nowhere. The tires crunched into a long driveway surrounded by wide open fields, but Juliet wasn’t looking at the fields anymore. She spun in her seat, eyes fixed on the sign by the road even after Ian drove past it. “Skydiving?” she squeaked. “We’re going skydiving?” She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. Ian looked at her with a mix of enjoyment at the surprise and concern at her reaction to it. “Yep. You said you were curious. And for a woman who told me she’d be a bird if she could, well, there’s no doubt in my mind you’re gonna love this.” “Ian! I don’t … I can’t…” Fear twisted in her belly. Sure, she loved the idea of skydiving, but the reality of it? She’d learned her lesson about the difference between fantasy and reality the hard way with Michael and she wasn’t interested in learning it again. “Leaving you speechless again, am I?” Ian’s tone of voice was way too light for

the panic that tangled up her thoughts. “You don’t understand. I can’t do this.” “Sure you can. You’re the girl who figured out how to make her own biscuits when she didn’t have a lot of money for food. How to drink coffee out of a bowl when she didn’t have the right mug. How to support herself when no one else would. You most definitely can do this.” “Yeah, but what if I can’t? What if I get to the door and stare out into the sky and I just can’t?” “Well, then we’ve found the one thing you can’t do.” Ian pulled into a parking spot in a nearly empty lot. “But listen. You can do this. I have faith in you.” Those words—I have faith in you—had a monumental effect on Juliet. They rattled around inside her and unlocked a bunch of feelings she wasn’t sure what to do with. Hearing him say that satisfied a need she didn’t even know she’d had and something hard and forgotten inside her started to soften. Ian reached across the car and took her hand. “Do you trust me?” She nodded, not sure she could trust her voice. “I need to hear you say it.” Ian’s face was open and he held eye contact with her, calm and strong and totally willing to wait until she was okay. Juliet took a breath. Found strength in his eyes. “Yes. I trust you.” “Good. Then come with me, my friend. I promise, life will never be the same.” Ian was a frequent flyer here and knew the owners well. Apparently, he’d called the day after their first date to block off an entire day so that he and Juliet were the only people going up. And coming down. Holy shit, I’m going to jump out of an airplane! As Juliet listened to her instructor, Dillan—an excited man whose trim frame wasn’t big enough to house his exuberance—her nerves began to transition into expectation. Doubt gave way to certainty. She was really going to do this. “You’re not gonna get that roller coaster drop feeling. You know the one I’m talking about?” Dillan barely had time to see her nod before he started talking again. “It’s not like that at all. It’s comfortable. You’re gonna feel supported, like you’re floating, and the air’s gonna put just a little bit of pressure on your body. It’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to flying, girlie. There’s nothing like it.” Dillan bounced from foot to foot, waiting for her response that never came. She was still too nervous to trust her voice and responded with a curt nod. Ian took her hand. “You’re gonna do a tandem jump with Dillan. He’ll literally do all the work. And lucky you, you get a crazy leprechaun strapped to your back, pulling the strings and telling you what to do.” “What about you?” Juliet knew there was no way she could do this without Ian. “I’m jumping solo, hot stuff. I’ll follow you out after a few seconds, but I’ll catch up quick. If you’re doing okay, I might even be able to take your hand for a bit and we can fly together.” Staring into Ian’s excited eyes, Juliet found the strength to squash down her fear. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The next hour or so was lost to a stream of information and instruction. Before she knew it, Juliet was on a plane, zipped into a jumpsuit, cruising about eleven hundred feet above the ground. “You ready?” Dillan asked. “Yep.” “How brave are you?” His question started her heart thundering through her body. “What?” “How brave are you?” Here she was, sitting in a plane with the sole intention of jumping out of it. “I’d say I’m pretty brave.” “Yeah, she is,” Ian said, patting her leg. “Awesome! I’ve got something in mind for you. ” Dillan told her that when it was time to jump, that she should walk to the very edge of the plane, let her toes hang out over the edge, and then, instead of jumping, he wanted her to lean out over the edge until she fell and he’d take care of the rest. And then suddenly, the doors on the airplane were open. Her toes were on the edge. The sky stretched out in front of her, and the ground seemed light years away. The giant hangar where she’d spent the morning was nothing more than a tiny spec down below. Her heart was in her throat and Dillan was strapped on her back. Despite what Ian had said, Dillan was nothing like a crazed leprechaun at this point. He was calm and confident and kept reminding her of everything she’d learned on the ground. She took a breath. Stared down at the ground so far below her. Took another breath. And then, without waiting to think, she did it. She leaned forward, ducking her head like she’d been instructed and holy shit! She was falling! Somehow, Dillan flipped them so they were facing the plane as they fell and Julz got to see Ian step up to the doors. He waved and she could have sworn she saw pride all over his face for just a second before Dillan got them flipped over again and they were facing the ground. Dillan was right. This was nothing at all like a drop on a roller coaster and it was everything she’d ever imagined being able to fly would feel like. Out of nowhere, Ian came zooming down past her, a human torpedo, and then he straightened his body to slow his fall. With Dillan’s help, they zoomed and maneuvered through the air until they were, indeed, close enough to hold hands. It took every bit of courage in Juliet’s heart to take her hands off the straps around her chest to reach out for him, but she did it. And when her hand was safely wrapped in his, she looked into his eyes and knew that she’d truly never be the same. This experience had Life Changing Event written all over it. When it was time to open the canopies, they maneuvered away from each other and Dillan pulled the cord. Juliet braced herself for what she was sure would be a massive jerking experience as the parachute filled with air even though Dillan and Ian had both assured her it wasn’t going to be bad. Of course, they were right. It

was no worse than jumping feet first into a pool of water. The four minute trip down to the ground was like an adrenaline fueled meditation session. She’d never been more in the moment. Ever. No worry. No stress. No anxiety. She just … was. They touched down without issues and as soon as Juliet was free from Dillan, she raced right into Ian’s arms. “Oh my God, thank you! Holy shit! I can’t believe I just did that!” Ian did his best to hold her tight even though she was wiggling around with excitement. She totally got Dillan’s attitude when they first arrived. And this was his job. This was how he lived. “Yep. You did it. I totally knew you could.” “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this …” she looked around, searching for the right word. “Powerful. I’ve never felt this powerful before. Like I can take on anything.” Ian exchanged a knowing look with Dillan. “And just think, you haven’t even done it by yourself, yet.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

POWERFUL. That’s exactly how Ian wanted to make Juliet feel. Safe. Capable. Not just taken care of, but strong in her own right. He wanted to build her up and make her better. He wanted to see this look on her face every day. As adorable as she looked in her flight suit, she looked even better out of it, where his hands could touch her skin and his eyes could rove her curves. She’d chatted away non-stop as they walked back to his car and kept on going as he threw it in gear and headed back towards Bliss for lunch. It was nice to see her like that, throwing her practiced smile out the window and just being herself. “Wait a minute,” Juliet said, interrupting herself. “I thought you said you didn’t fly anymore.” Concern and confusion creased her delicate face. “I didn’t fly that plane today.” He knew what she was driving at, but it was fun to play with her. “You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes and laughing lightly. “You were up in the air. In a plane. And then you jumped out of the plane. Which has to be worse than actually driving one.” “Driving one, huh. That’s the word you’re going with?” She slapped him playfully on the arm, widening her eyes. “Yes, that’s what I’m going with and you know what I’m trying to ask. So spill it, Moore.” The transition

of her face from playful to fearful as she realized that she’d not only hit him, but also gave him an order broke his heart a little. That wouldn’t do at all. He wanted her comfortable enough around him to be herself. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, purposefully keeping his voice light and his face bright. He waited until her fear receded before he continued. “You’re right. After the accident, I didn’t want to fly again. I wanted to keep my ass on the ground. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that was fear talking, because there was never a time in my life that I didn’t want to be in the air. And you know what? I refuse to let fear rule me. That’s when I had the idea to start skydiving, get myself up in the air again. Battle down all the crazy stuff I had in my head when I first came home.” Ian still didn’t like talking about the accident, but he’d keep sharing if she asked. If he expected her to be completely open with him—and one day soon he was going to push her for information about that Tech Lord guy and he would expect her to be open with him—then he’d need to be just as open with her. He waited for her to ask another question about what happened, but she just sat quietly, staring out the window for a few seconds. “That’s the kind of answer I’d expect from you,” she finally said, just when he started to think she wasn’t going to speak again. “Strong and capable. Filled with willpower and self-awareness. I wish I was like that.” “But you are.” For the most part, he finished in his head. She carried around so much self-doubt. So much latent sadness inside her. It held her back from truly believing in herself and the decisions she made. But she had the strength to get past it, and what she didn’t have, he was going to give her. And the first step was confidence. “No. Not like you.” “Yes. Just like me. Look, I’m not going to pretend to know what caused you to need four states and almost a thousand miles between you and the city, but that took guts. Just you and your little dog, too, in a car, heading off to who knew where.” “Yeah, but it was stupid. Doing it without a plan, just rushing off as soon as I was brave enough,” she said, ignoring his Wizard of Oz reference. Brave enough. That was the first time she’d even come close to acknowledging the fear he’d seen in her eyes in all those pictures of her with Michael Phillips when Ian had Googled her. “I expect that you had a very good reason to need to make the choice as quickly as you did.” Ian reached out and put a hand on Juliet’s thigh and she jumped, her eyes far away. “I did.” “And you don’t think it took guts to go ahead and do it once you knew it was time to leave?” She thought for a second, the darkness on her face lightening. “It did,” she said, nodding. “But it was still stupid.” Ian put his hand back on the wheel but turned to catch her eye. “Are you saying you’re not happy here?”

Shock washed away the self-doubt on her face. “Oh, no! I’m happier than I’ve ever been!” Ian could tell she really meant it. “And are you saying that you don’t like where you are?” “I love it here.” The look on her face was like dawn breaking. Understanding and realization dropping her shoulders away from her ears. “Then it sounds like there was nothing stupid about what you did, whatsoever.” He enjoyed the surprise on her face for a second. “And I’m glad you’re happy. And I love that you love it here.” She fell quiet and Ian knew he’d given her a lot to think about so he took over the conversation and chatted away while she digested what he’d said. The radio was on and the sun was shining and he could actually watch stress fall away from her, like she was letting go of something heavy. By the time they were nearly finished with lunch, Juliet was beaming and animated as they talked. “What a fantastic day,” she said, wiping her mouth and throwing her napkin on her plate. “I can’t argue with that. But I’m ready for you to show me just how grateful you are.” It was time to push her boundaries just a little. Her eyes lit up and she leaned towards him, lowering her voice. “You ready for that blow job?” “I’m in the mood for a whole lot more than just a blow job.” He looked towards the hall that led to the bathrooms in the back of the crowded restaurant. “Meet me in the ladies room.” Her jaw fell open and her eyebrows just about ejected themselves off her face, but he could see her consider it. Watched her eyes grow hungry at the thought of it. “You like that idea don’t you?” “Maybe.” She drew the word out and a blush flared across her cheeks. “But I don’t know if I can.” She looked into her lap. “I don’t want to disappoint you.” “Juliet Lane.” He waited until she met his eyes. “First of all, you can’t disappoint me. Everything about you surprises me and makes me happy. But second of all, you just jumped out of a freaking airplane. And you didn’t think you could do that, either.” He waited and got to watch that feeling of power bloom in her again. She bit her lip and stood, her eyes never leaving his. She stood there for a few seconds, biting her lip and blushing and Ian started to wonder if she’d end up sitting right back down again. He should have known better than to doubt her because damn if she didn’t turn away from him, saunter back towards the hallway that led to the restrooms, and disappear around the corner.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HOLY SHIT, holy shit, holy shit. She was really going to do this. She was going to have sex in the bathroom of a crowded restaurant the very same day she jumped out of an airplane! Who the hell was this girl because she sure wasn't boring old Juliet Lane. There’s no way Willow would believe her when she told her. If she told her. Okay, when she told her because there was no way Juliet could keep this day to herself. At least the bathroom was clean. And, it was one of those single deals where they’d be able to lock the door. But, even with that door closed tight, she could still hear the clink and clank of forks on plates and the murmur of conversation coming from the restaurant. And if she could hear the people out there, then they could hear her, and she’d never been very good at keeping quiet. Especially with Ian. She realized she was pacing and grasped the edges of the sink with both hands and stared at her reflection in the mirror. If Ian didn’t show up soon, she’d lose her nerve, and she really didn’t want to lose her nerve. She wanted to do this. For him. But also for her. She wanted to nurture that feeling of power he fostered inside her. That feeling of bravery. Plus, her panties had gotten a little damp the second he mentioned it. Maybe she was more daring than she gave herself credit for. The door swung open and Ian slipped inside, pressing it shut behind him and turning the lock to send the bolt home. She straightened and couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t help the smile that stretched wide across her face. In fact, she realized with horror, she was one second away from breaking into nervous giggles. Nothing sexy about that. Nothing sexy about that at all.

But then Ian reached out for her and she crossed the space into his arms, his mouth hungry and eager on hers, his tongue caressing her lips until she opened her mouth and let him in. Her body burned for him. She needed him inside her, filling her, stretching her. She needed the release that he’d bring, the muscle sagging, can’t walk, leg-quivering pleasure. But first, she had a promise to fulfill. She dropped to her knees and pulled on his belt, her eyes on his. He sighed behind closed lips and there was that feeling of power again, charging around inside her, making her want to feel him grow harder in her mouth and know that she was the one doing it to him. She fiddled with his pants until she got him free, his long sheath warm and velvety in her hands. She swirled her tongue around the tip, smiling when she tasted the tiny drop of moisture that beaded there. She kept her lips tight as she brought him all the way to the back of her throat, softened the muscles and pushed him a little deeper until she couldn’t breathe and pulled back, gasping for air. She looked up and found him watching her, lust burning in his eyes, and it only made her want to do it again. And again. “You’ve gotta stop,” he whispered. “I need you. All of you.” Ian pulled her to her feet, lifting her shirt once she was standing and kissed her breasts, pulling on her taught nipple through the lace of her bra with his mouth. She fought against a moan and kept her hands on his dick, stroking him, egging him on. He pulled her bra down and sucked on the delicate white flesh of her breast. Sucked so hard it almost hurt, and when he pulled away, he’d left a mark. “Mine,” he whispered, and heat flamed at her center. She stared down at her breast, Ian’s mark clear against the pale skin inside her tan line. His. Oh, God, yes. His. He pulled at her waistband and she kicked off her shoes and socks, stepped out of her shorts and he lifted her up to perch on the edge of the sink. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clutched at his back, feeling the long strands of muscle working as he entered her in one quick thrust. Her mouth flew open and she gasped loudly, unable to stop herself from making the sound. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he whispered and thrust his hips forward again. And again. Her breath hitched and she bit her lip, letting her head fall back. “Look at me, Juliet.” He moved slowly now, teasing her, and the sound of her name on his lips made her moan in pleasure. When she met his eyes, he shook his head and put a finger to his lips, sliding in and out of her, building speed. “I can’t stay quiet,” she managed, her words stuttering with her sharp intakes of breath. “You have to. Be a good girl and do what I say.” And then, without breaking eye contact, he put one hand firmly over her mouth and sheathed himself deep inside her, pushing harder and faster and harder still and faster still and hitting that spot. That one good spot that no one had ever reached before and an orgasm started building up inside her. One that felt way more like flying than falling. She locked her eyes on his, and he locked his on hers,

both of them building together. She fell over the edge first, wave after wave of pleasure made all the more intense with every stroke of his cock against her ever tightening interior walls. He drove into her again and again, hitting that spot over and over until she thought she’d have to scream. Just plain have to if he didn’t stop. It was all too intense to hold back. Just when she was about to lose control, he came with one shuddering thrust of his hips and wrapped both of his arms around her. She dropped her head onto his shoulder while her center clenched around him, still contracting, both of them panting, until that damned giggle rose in the back of her throat. She tried to swallow against it, but it came out anyway, echoing against the cheap tile. “That was funny?” he whispered, sliding out of her, eliciting one more gasp before zipping up his pants and getting himself set to rights. Juliet shook her head. “No, it was wonderful. I’ve just never done it in a bathroom before.” “And that makes you giggle?” Juliet hung her head. “I giggle when I’m nervous.” Ian brushed a bit of hair back from her face. “You never, ever have to be nervous with me around. I got you.” “I know,” she replied. “It’s just new to me. To be taken care of.” “Seems like this is a day of firsts, then.” She hopped off the sink and picked her shorts off the floor, thankful her panties had stayed neatly tucked inside. “It was definitely that.” After she dressed and took a moment to smooth her hair into something that didn’t look like she’d just had hot bathroom sex, she looked at Ian, at a loss. “Now what?” “Well, hot stuff, we walk out of here hand in hand, heads held high.” “But what if someone sees?” “So what? Do you know any of these people?” “No, but I might one day.” Ian linked his arm in hers and pulled her towards the door. “How about this, I can just about guarantee that anyone who sees us is gonna know what we just did and they’re all gonna be jealous, at least on some level.” She couldn’t really argue with that, although some part of her was afraid they’d get in trouble or something. Public lewdness? Wasn’t that a thing? But it didn’t really matter because they couldn’t stay in here all day, and it extra double didn’t matter because Ian had unlocked the door and was pulling it open. Pulling it open to show an older woman leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her ample stomach, fiddling with her phone, waiting. She looked up, shock playing in her eyebrows, and then a knowing smile slid across her face. “Hello, Mrs. Cernshaw,” said Ian, pulling Juliet along after her body went rigid with fear. “Ian,” said the woman, greeting him with a twist of her head and a glimmer in her eye. “I’d tell ya to have a nice day, but it looks like you already have.” Juliet couldn’t stop herself from giggling and she stumbled after Ian into the

restaurant. “Head held high, Juliet,” Ian whispered to her through the side of his mouth. She was pretty damn sure that everyone in the busy restaurant was looking at them, aware of what they’d done, snickering at them with each other, but with Ian’s hand firmly wrapped around hers and her chin up and her eyes straight, that sense of power returned. That’s right. She’d had sex in the bathroom. With the hottest guy in the whole damn town, nonetheless. After skydiving. How many of these people could say they’d done even one of those things? Not many. She was pretty darn certain of that. Ian paid the bill and led her outside, letting go of her hand only to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. “You’re amazing, you know that?” “No. That’s all you.” “I won’t argue that I’m pretty amazing myself, but you’re stealing the show, doll.” He pulled her through the blazing June afternoon, heat seeping up through the black pavement and swirling around her legs. A blast of hot air fell out of the car when he opened the door for her and Ian told her to wait while he got the car started and the AC blasting. “How’re you holding up?” he asked over the hood of the car. “My legs aren’t very interested in holding me up at all, thank you very much.” “Well, that’s good to hear, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Ian smiled. “How’s your energy? I’ve got one more stop planned, if you think you can manage.” “I don’t know how much more excitement I can handle, but I’m willing to find out.” “That’s the spirit.” Ian ducked down and climbed into the much more tolerable car. “But, this is a very tame trip. Boring almost.” “I’m not gonna lie and tell you I’m not a little relieved.” Juliet relaxed into the soft leather and let her head fall back against the headrest. “What do you have in mind?” “I thought we’d go to the hardware store and look at some paint samples.” She actually loved that idea. She had all kinds of ideas for color palettes and had thought more than once that she could be working on little details like that in the evenings after Ian had gone home. She told him as much as he navigated the streets of Bliss and pulled into the parking lot of the hardware store. “Well, that’s all well and good, with one stipulation,” he said as he put the car in park and pulled out a car shade for the window, muttering about how he should have remembered it the first time. “Oh, yeah,” she asked, unnerved by his stern tone of voice. “Afraid you won’t like the color I choose or that I won’t do a good enough job?” “No, nothing like that, silly. I just don’t want you working from sunup to sundown. And let’s be honest, there’s a fairly decent chance you’d do just that.” Julz couldn’t disagree. Not completely. “But I like to stay busy.” “Me too, but sometimes we’ve got to sit still a little. It’s good for the soul. Or so I’ve heard.”

He led her into the store and plopped her in front of the paint samples, nodding his head in agreement with most of her choices. She chattered away about the way she envisioned the house looking when they were done, about all the potential it had, how happy she was to be there. “What?” she asked with a little crinkle of her nose when she realized he’d stopped answering and was just smiling at her. “You.” “What about me?” “I like you. I think you’re beautiful. And super cute right now with your ‘been fucking’ hair and your tan legs poking out of those little shorts, going on about all the same things I love about that house.” Juliet’s eyes went wide and her hands went to her hair, trying to smooth the little wisps away from her face. Ian took both her wrists in his hands and gently pulled them away. “Don’t. I like it.” They talked a little more about the paint and even made a few decisions on color. Ian was paying for several gallons for the kitchen and living room when Juliet finally realized how much money he’d spent today. Guilt twisted in her stomach and she started chewing on her lip. “And,” Ian said, not noticing. “If you run out of a color, you could just run down and buy another gallon or two. Keep the receipts and I’ll reimburse you the next time we get together.” Her stomach clenched again at the thought of dipping into her money envelope. She was going to have to find a job. Soon. And she was pretty sure Ian wouldn’t like it when she brought it up. He genuinely seemed to like taking care of her, spoiling her with little surprises and making sure she had everything she ever needed. And, if she was being honest, she liked it, too, especially because it meant she had plenty of time to spend with him. But, it was also just as important that she stand on her own two feet. If everything she had came from Ian, well, where would that leave her if things didn’t work out? With a few boxes of old stuff jammed into the back of her Hyundai, that’s where. “So, here’s the thing,” she said over the rattle of the cart wheels on the pavement in the parking lot. “I think I might need to get a job. I’ve got some money, but not a lot. And it really stresses me out to see that number dwindle without knowing I have a source of income. I don’t want to take time away from the renovations, and I really don’t want to take time away from being with you, but…” she held out her hands and shrugged helplessly. “I thought maybe I could get a waitressing job, something with variable hours. I don’t have a lot of expenses, but, I do need to have a way to make money.” She didn’t know why this conversation made her so nervous. Ian understood the way the world worked and surely, he’d understand her need for an income. It wasn’t that she expected him to react badly or yell at her or anything like that. It’s just that a job would be a serious time commitment. It would mean the end of this

little blip of fantasy life, spending her days working with Ian and her evenings playing with him. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to that and she definitely wasn’t ready for him to start thinking that she was trying to create distance between them. He was quiet while he opened the trunk and put the paint and supplies inside. Still didn’t say anything when he opened the door for her and she slid inside. He didn’t close the door so she could enjoy the breeze and her nerves went haywire waiting for him to come back from putting the cart in the corral. Calm down, silly. If he’s mad, then it’s just another sign that he’s not the kind of guy you need. Of course, her heart fluttered around down in her stomach at the thought because so far, he’d been everything she’d ever needed and then some. She looked up expectantly as he lowered himself into the car and pulled the shades out of the window. She waited for him to crank the AC before they both closed their doors, the heavy thunks sounding small compared to the sound her heart was making. “A job would be silly,” he said, pulling out of the parking spot. Juliet’s heart sank. “I could just pay you for the time you spent on the renovations.” “But you’re already giving me free rent for that.” She held her breath for his response, needing him to give her a good reason for not wanting her to find a job. He blew air out his mouth and checked the mirrors, the space between his eyes tight. “That’s true.” He waited about a million years to finish his thought. “Here’s the thing. I’m feeling a little greedy about my time with you. I’m not sure I’m ready to give up even a minute of it.” Well, that was a pretty decent reason. “I understand. Believe me, the fact that I’ve waited this long to even consider looking for a job is a testament to how much I like spending time with you. But, it makes me nervous. My entire life savings is in an envelope in my room, and sure, I only take out a little at a time, but that money is finite. I’m living a fantasy right now.” She turned in her seat, put a hand on his thigh. “A wonderful, exquisite fantasy that I don’t want to end. Not at all. But, that money is going to run out.” “What would you do? What did you do in New York?” “I’m not sure that I want to do what I did in New York.” She sighed, the thought of having to find a job dampening her mood. “I don’t know, like I said, waitressing? Something simple.” Ian shook his head. “You’d be wasted as a waitress.” “Yeah, but I’d get to spend time with you. Maybe only take part time hours. Match them up to when you’d be working on the other houses, or doing whatever other work you have to do to keep things running.” “I know it makes sense for you to work. I know you’re gonna need an income. But, do me a favor. Live the fantasy with me a little longer. And we can look for a job that would suit you together.” He finally smiled again and her heart unclenched. “I don’t know.” She swallowed, wanting to do exactly what he suggested, but

not sure if it was the smartest path. Her head was a mess of should’s and want’s and supposed to’s. “I just need to know that I can stand on my own two feet.” “But you already know that. You’ve done that your whole life, haven’t you? And here I am, more than capable of helping you with your finances, asking you to let me help you.” Juliet’s head and heart went to war and it was a few seconds before she could find her voice around all the conflict. “I just can’t let myself be controlled.” Her words were a whisper, the voice of fear, the voice of the woman who’d signed a terrible contract that let a man do terrible things to her. Ian pulled off the road and flicked on the emergency lights. “Oh, my angel,” he said, turning in his seat, his expression soft. “There’s a difference between being controlled and being taken care of. I’m not ordering you to stay unemployed, I’m not trying to make you weak and reliant on me. I’m asking you to stay with me because I feel like I can’t take a full breath when we’re apart. Because you are my sun and the world goes dark when I’m not with you. I’m here to help. I want to help. And if you need a job in order to feel in control, then fine. We’ll find one that’ll get you some money and still let us be together. But if you need a job in order to feel like you’re doing the right thing, then let me just say this. My right thing is taking care of you and it would make me feel like I’m being the best man I can be if you let me make you feel safe.” Juliet blinked back tears, her voice obliterated by a rush of emotion. His words gave her heart all the ammunition it needed and her head sulked in a corner, admitting defeat. “You just keep proving that whole Ian-Moore-is-amazing thing, don’t you?” she finally managed to ask. “I hope that what I’m proving is that I care a lot about you and your happiness matters to me.” “Yeah,” she said, her voice cracking on the word. “That too.” Juliet blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. How did he keep managing to speak directly to her heart like that? “I can’t tell you how good it feels to know I matter.” And then her throat constricted against any further words and she swiped at her eyes. She refused to cry in front of Ian. “Well, hot stuff, give me enough time and I’ll show you just exactly how much you matter. Because this,” he made a broad gesture with his hands, “is just the tip of the iceberg.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JULIET DIDN’T START LOOKING for a job. And when she started to worry about how that made her a bad person, or how she wasn’t pulling her own weight, she just thought back to what Ian had said that day in the car. And she felt better. It didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t any logic to it, none at all. She should be terrified and embarrassed, living off some guy she’d only known for a couple weeks, waking up excited to see him and falling asleep with his name on her lips. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She was happy. “You be good,” she said to Lulu as she closed and locked the front door, on her way to meet Ian at his house for dinner. This was going to be the first time she’d been to his house and she couldn’t wait to see it. You could tell a lot about a person by how they lived and she never got tired of learning more about the amazing Ian Moore. He’d given her a set of handwritten directions and she pulled them out of her purse, smiling at the precise letters neatly marching along the lines of the page. He’d even included the number of miles she’d spend on each road before she made a turn and important landmarks to help her know she was on the right track. A storm bloomed in the evening sky. Dark clouds, bulging and heavy with rain, poured across the horizon and wind whipped her hair around her shoulders and her dress around her thighs as she ran for her car. As she drove, she watched the ocean churning and thrashing against the shore. Even like this, all frenzied and dangerous, it was beautiful. Would she ever grow tired of seeing it? Would she ever grow numb to the beauty? It didn’t take long to find Ian’s house, which was, of course, on the beach. It was

a lot like hers, only bigger, and in better shape, and way more secluded. His driveway was paved rather than gravel. She parked her car next to an unfamiliar vehicle and got out. Juliet held her hair in one hand to keep it from flying around in the wind and ran up the steps to the front door. Ian had left the main door open for her. “Hello?” she called through the screen door, knocking lightly on the frame. “Hey!” Ian called from somewhere deep inside the house. “Come on in. I’ll be right there.” She pushed through the door and the wind slammed it shut with a bang. She looked around. “Something smells amazing!” She was hesitant to move much further into the house without him. “How many cars do you have, anyway?” she asked, bending over to admire a picture of the Moore family on a small table near the door. “That’s not his car,” came an unfamiliar male voice. “It’s mine.” The owner of the voice peeked out through a doorway at the end of a hall that extended down past a set of stairs. The warm smile and dark hair marked him as most definitely a Moore. No doubt about that in the least. Juliet headed down the hall towards what turned out to be a huge kitchen with granite counters and stainless steel appliances. White cabinets and clean lines. She found Ian leaning on the counter, watching his brother work. He straightened when she walked in, opening his arms to her and kissing her deeply when she stepped into them. “You didn’t think I was going to cook a whole dinner myself, did you? Ruin my chances at impressing the hell outta you?” he asked, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’ve already impressed the hell outta me. I’m sure you’d have made something delicious.” Ian’s brother—Harrison, if she remembered correctly—snorted and shook his head. “No,” he said with a gleam in his eye, even though he kept his attention on his work. “He’d have made something akin to charred poison, or it would have been cold cuts and cheese.” He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and offered Julz his hand. “I’m Harry by the way. We’ve not officially met, although I feel like I know you after listening to Ian go on and on. And on.” Harry met her eyes briefly, only to let his gaze flicker away. “He speaks the truth,” said Ian as Juliet took Harry’s hand. “I’m no cook. And I can’t shut up about you.” “And on that note, I’m gonna let myself out and give you two some space.” Harry gave Ian a few instructions to get dinner finished up and said his goodbyes, cursing at the rain as he opened the front door into a deluge. “And that was Harry,” Ian said as he held up a bottle of red wine, a question on his face. “More comfortable in the pouring rain than he is next to a beautiful woman.” Juliet nodded at the wine and smiled at the sentiment. She’d instantly liked Harry in the same way she’d instantly liked James. She said as much to Ian as he

poured them each a drink. “Seems like the Moores are just good, likeable people.” Ian chuckled. “You haven’t met Lilah yet. She’s good, but she makes you work to like her.” He led her to a breakfast table near a window and lightening pulsed outside. Ian shook his head. “See? Couldn’t get more ominous than that.” “She can’t be that bad.” “Let’s see. She’s beautiful and knows it. Spoiled and bossy as the day is long. She’d do anything for you, as long as you did it her way and you thanked her for the next hundred years. Preferably with gifts.” Juliet could see the affection he had for his little sister dancing in his eyes. “Yeah, but, I bet if anyone else talked about her like that, you’d beat them up and make them apologize.” “Damn straight.” The first bottle of wine barely made it through dinner and they were halfway through a second when Juliet finished the last bite of dessert. Her head spun with wine, lust, and laughter and Ian didn’t look all that steady himself when he led her into his living room. She sank into the brown leather couch and kicked her shoes off, tucked her legs up underneath her and took a long drink of wine. “Alright,” said Ian. “More questions. But let’s skip all the easy stuff. I want to know the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.” Her experience with Michael pressed against her lips and she drowned it with another drink of wine. “Skydiving,” she said instead. “What about you?” “Skydiving,” he echoed with a quirk of his mouth. “Back to you. What else?” “Now hang on. I don’t believe for a second that skydiving was the most dangerous thing you’ve done.” “Well, I guess flying a fighter jet, landing on a battleship, trying to pull my friend out of a burning plane,” he said and then took a sip of wine to cover the flash of pain that flared across his face. “I guess those things are kind of dangerous.” “Kind of? I can’t even imagine the amount of courage it took for you to do your job.” Ian shrugged off the compliment. “Now, I’ve given you like...” He held up his hands, counting off on his fingers. “...five answers for the price of one.” “I don’t think that’s how this game works.” “Hey, now. I made the game, so you can bet your sweet ass that I know the rules backwards and forwards. Even the super advanced secret rules. So. I gave you five answers, you owe me five answers.” Again, the Michael Phillis thing was the first thought that came to mind, but she chased it away with another drink. “I moved to New York City all by myself just after I graduated high school.” Ian faked a yawn and gave her a bored look. “Hey! That took a lot of guts!” “I’m sure it did, but that doesn’t fall into the realm of what I’d call dangerous.” Juliet puffed out her cheeks. It’d sure felt dangerous to her. “Okay. Well, there’s the bridge jumping stuff—”

“I’ll agree that’s dangerous, but you’ve already used that one.” Ian leaned forward. “Come on, what have you done that’s really bad?” Flustered, Juliet said the first non-Michael thing that came to her mind. “Sometimes, when I go through the self-checkout lanes at the grocery store, I think about how easy it would be to keep an item or two in my cart.” Ian laughed and shook his head. “But I bet you’ve never done it.” “No. I always pay for everything.” The way he was spinning it, she sounded really safe and boring. And worse, now she felt embarrassed. She finished her glass of wine and hoped that he’d assume that was the cause of the flush on her cheeks. “Okay, you owe me at least one more thing. Dig deep, Juliet, make it really good.” He held up a finger and looked stern. “And don’t you dare try to use the bathroom sex. That was too amazing to be dangerous.” “I signed a BDSM contract with my boss,” she blurted out. The words fell hard and heavy between them and her entire body went on pause while she waited for his response. Her heart stood still. Her breath caught in her lungs. She couldn’t even bring herself to blink. She didn’t even know if it felt good to have it out in the open, yet. Wouldn’t know until he responded. She swallowed, afraid that her happiness hung on the edge of a knife. Ian choked on his wine and set the glass on the table. “What?” She explained the whole sordid affair, her words coming first in short, gasping sentences, but then, as she got comfortable, they rolled out of her in great waves that matched the ocean raging with the storm outside. “At first, it sounded absolutely perfect. A no strings attached way to be in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. And I’d always liked sex a little rough, or at least I thought I did. I hadn’t had much experience before … you know.” Ian nodded and she continued. “But then he, well, when we signed the contract, it was all very professional. We sat in his boardroom and went over the things I said I would and wouldn’t do. You know, hard and soft limits? I wasn’t very interested in the pain stuff. Turns out I’m way more BD and not at all SM. You know, bondage and domination instead of sadism and masochism.” “I know what BDSM stands for.” Juliet couldn’t read Ian’s face, but she’d broken the dam and the words flowed forth. “This guy—” “Michael Phillips.” “Yeah. Michael Phillips. CEO of Tech Lord. He was a total sadist…” she trailed off, her voice beginning to shake. “He was happiest when it hurt. And I took as much as I could. But I had to use my safe word. Twice. The first time he stopped but was just awful about it. The second time? He just didn’t stop.” Juliet swallowed and wished her glass wasn’t empty. Ian had wanted dangerous. There was a whole lot of dangerous right there between them, and he just kept sitting there, without saying a word. She needed him to talk. Needed him to say something, anything. Even if it was just to tell her to get out of his house because he couldn’t be with someone who’d done something so

… dirty. Well, no. Not that. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. But at least then she’d know. At least then she could stop sitting here, holding her breath, hands shaking, waiting to hear if she’d just ruined everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

FUCKING HELL. He’d wanted the truth about Michael Phillips and here it was. Of all the things he’d been imagining, this was the one thing that never came to mind. No wonder she was so skittish that first night, when he’d grabbed her wrists and smacked her ass. And here she was, staring at him with her wide brown eyes, chest heaving, lips quivering, waiting for him to reply. He was just so mad. That asshole had hurt her, and sure, their relationship had been kind of about that, but from the sounds of it, she’d marked that kind of stuff as off limits. But he’d kept going, pushed her past her limit, and then, when she’d finally cried out that it was enough, kept right on going some more. That was no kind of man. That was weakness wrapped up in power so little Michael Phillips could feel big and strong. “If you want me to go…” Juliet started to stand, her voice catching in her throat. “No. I most definitely do not want you to go.” Ian took her hand and pulled her into his lap where she perched rigidly for only a second before she melted into him. “I’m sorry,” she said, her breath brushing against his neck. “Why?” “For…” She sat up and he didn’t like the scared little girl he saw in her eyes. Not one bit. “For being … all that.”

She dropped her eyes to his collar bones. “Juliet, look at me.” He put a finger to her chin and lifted her face. “You have nothing to apologize for. This doesn’t change how I feel about you. Doesn’t change how much I want you. It only helps me understand you.” “Promise?” she whispered. “Promise.” He shifted a little, freeing an arm to grab his wine glass, doing his best to look casual. “Tell me why you did it.” Her eyes flickered to his. “I was curious.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a safe way to experiment.” “I get that. And I’m not gonna lie, I love that you’re so willing to try new things, but why did you need a contract? Why did you need a relationship like that? One that was so cold and clinical? All rules and obedience?” Juliet bit her lip and pursed her eyebrows together. “I’d never really thought about it. Just came with the territory, you know? But, honestly, it was safe to relax into it. I was tired of having to guess my way through life. The contract gave me clear things to do and not do. I knew exactly which actions were good and which were bad. What would lead to reward and what would lead to punishment. It was soothing after a whole life of making it all up on my own and not knowing if I was doing any of it right.” She sighed. “That sounds so weak…” “From what I gather, you’ve been making hard decisions for a long time, probably since way before you were ready. When you think about it, it makes sense.” “You really think so?” “Yes. I really do.” Ian slid out from underneath her and reached out. “Come with me.” He hated the way her hand trembled when she placed it in his. Couldn't stand to think about all the things that had made her this fragile. He was going to fix it, damn it, all the little things that life had broken in her. All the careless people in her life had taken her for granted and he was going to make her feel like a queen for a change. Ian took both their wine glasses in one hand and led her back into the kitchen. She protested when he filled hers and handed it back to her. “My head’s already spinning. It’s probably a bad idea.” “You afraid to get dangerous with me?” Ian still had her hand and he gave it a squeeze, looked her deep in the eyes and leaned in. “Stop worrying about being so perfect all the time, about always making the right decision. Sometimes, the wrong ones are the best ones. Besides, I promise I’ll keep you safe.” Her lips parted and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Saw fear dance with trust in her wide eyes. She took the glass he offered and sipped from it, and then followed as he led her up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Take another drink.” He smiled at her and she did as she was told and he most definitely liked that. “Another.” “Ian…” “Another,” he said with more force. She liked domination? He was more than

willing to play that game. Juliet took another drink and waited for him. Damn, if she wasn’t beautiful. He could just look at her all day. And if she’d spent too many years struggling to find true north, feeling scared and alone, scared enough to think a relationship with a sadist pain-monkey who needed to demean her in order to feel powerful, then Ian Moore was the man to make all that right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

NEVER IN ALL her life had Juliet felt so vulnerable. So out there in the open, all her secrets on display. So in need of contact and reassurance. Ian’s silence downstairs had sent her head reeling, her stomach dropping about a million feet down into the earth’s core, taking any kind of logical thought with it. Her head was a mess of emotion and reaction and now, here she was, standing in Ian’s bedroom, waiting to discover just how much she’d messed things up. “Put your glass down, Julz.” Her heart spasmed to hear him use her childhood nickname for the first time. “And get undressed.” If her nickname had brought a spasm, his order brought on a full body paroxysm. Nerves jumped around in her hand and she hated to watch it tremble as she deposited her wine glass on his bedside table. Being with Ian usually made her feel powerful. Secure. Not now. Right now she was weak and worried and uncertain. She dropped her eyes to the floor and reached around to undo the zipper in the back of her dress. Her hair fell over her shoulders and covered her face from view. “Look at me.” Ian’s voice, while stern enough to command her attention, held affection, too. The combination melted all the doubt and uncertainty and filled her with confidence. Ian would take care of her. He’d make her safe. He had said it over and over, and proved it time and again. She tossed her hair, getting it out of her face and over one shoulder, and looked Ian in the eye. If his voice had turned her on, his expression set her on fire. His eyes blazed into hers, hooded and passionate. Ian wanted her. There was power in that. Power and confidence.

Holding eye contact, she pulled the zipper down and shrugged out of her dress. It pooled at her feet on the soft carpet and Juliet stepped out of it. She stood in her white lace bra and panties, watching his eyes travel her body. Feeling brave, she ran a finger over her collarbone, traced it down her chest, over the swell of her breast, and circled a taut nipple. “Damn if you’re not amazing.” Ian’s voice was thick with lust and it brought goosebumps flaring across Juliet’s arms. “Lie down,” he said, indicating his bed. “Yes, Sir.” The response was automatic, brought on by the authority in his voice. “No,” Ian said, crossing the room to her as she stretched out on top of his goose down cover. “I don’t want you sir-ing me.” He stroked her cheek and she turned her head into his hand, needing even more contact. “You and me? We’re equals in this, you got me?” Juliet nodded and smiled. God, she wanted him. She wanted his hands, roughened by hard work, to trail down her body, to touch her everywhere. She wanted his damn clothes off so she could enjoy looking at him. So strong, so capable. And she wanted her hands on his velvety dick, wanted to move them up and down his shaft, watch his eyes roll back in his head as she brought him pleasure. “I need you to say it.” Ian traced a finger from the soft spot of her neck, down between her breasts, and right on down towards her belly button. She arched her back, her desire for him to continue on down becoming a physical need. “Say you understand.” “I understand.” “What do you understand?” If he didn’t touch her again, she might explode. “That we’re equals.” “That’s right, you and me, we’re in this together. And you never have to worry again because I got you.” “I like the sound of that.” “Do you now?” He dropped a finger down onto her stomach, that spot between her hip bones, and started tracing downwards. Tucked it under the waistband of her panties and stopped. Juliet moaned and arched her back, needing him to go lower, needing contact and friction. “And I think I know something else you’ll like.” He withdrew his hand and stood. Her eyes flew open and she watched him cross the room to his closet, disappear inside, and come out with something held in both hands behind his back. “You say you like the BD way more than the SM? Well, here’s the good news. Me, too. I like it a lot. I’m going to tie you up and dominate you, angel. And you’re gonna like the way I do it, because I’m very giving. It gives me pleasure to give you pleasure and you’re gonna come for me all night long. Understand?” He waited for Juliet to nod before continuing. “And Juliet? You ever feel uncomfortable, you say the word and I’ll stop. I don’t need to make you feel small in order to feel big.” Ian brought his hands out from behind his back and showed her what he’d been hiding. Rope. Yards and yards of smooth, black rope. Her eyes went wide and she

smiled despite herself and a shock of adrenaline coursed through her body and pooled between her legs. He took his time binding her wrists, pulling the knots taut, stopping to stroke her arms and trail kisses along her jawline. Juliet writhed, desperate for more of his touch. Once her wrists were bound, he ran the rope through the slats of his headboard and finished things up with a strong pull on the knot. “Do you like that? Being bound?” Juliet met his eyes and nodded. “Good girl. I like it when you look at me. But I like it more when you use your voice.” “Yes,” she managed. “Yes, I like it a lot.” “You said you don’t like pain, but when I slapped your ass that first night, you sure seemed to want more.” Juliet blushed and dropped her eyes, heat and need swirling through her body. “I liked it,” she murmured, and then brought her eyes to his, needing the connection as much as he did. “The way you did it.” “And what about this?” Ian brought his mouth to her breast, kissed her through the sheer lace of her bra. “Do you like this?” She lifted her chest towards his mouth, the feather-light kisses just simply not enough. “Yes.” Ian pulled her bra down, freeing her breast and sat back. “You have the most perfect tits. They’re absolutely jaw-droppingly perfect.” He traced a finger around her nipple, took it between his fingers and squeezed, gently at first and then harder. She moaned and he squeezed harder still, rolling it between his fingers. “Do you like that?” he asked when she gasped. “Oh, Ian! Yes!” “And what if I do this?” Ian bent and took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, pulling her into his mouth so hard that she arched her back again. Moaning and groaning and feeling the moisture build between her legs. He stayed there for a while, alternating between sucking and biting, using his teeth to add light pressure to the sensitive skin. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it much longer, he drove a hand into her panties, his fingers grazing her clit. Her back arched and she cried out. “Yes! That’s good. Please, Ian. More of that.” Her breath heaved in her lungs and she writhed against her bonds. He slid a finger between her folds, angling it so that it dipped inside her just the tiniest bit while still keeping pressure on her clit. “Oh, look how wet you are. You do like this.” The tip of his finger wasn’t enough. She needed the whole thing inside her and she needed it now. She bucked her hips forward, lifted them off the bed. “Please, Ian. I need…” She trailed off when he plunged his finger deep inside her for one mind-bending second and then gasped when he withdrew it. “We may be equals, Juliet, but you have to remember, I’m in control. I’ll be inside you when I decide to be, no sooner.” He lifted her shoulders a little. “Now I

have to punish you, you dirty girl. Flip over.” “What are you going to do?” She met his eyes, needing to see that he wasn’t actually angry, that this was just all part of the game and found what she needed. “Well, my angel, remember that spanking you got the first night we were together? You’ve earned yourself another one of those for being such a bad girl.” Ian’s tone of voice was commanding, but his eyes were kind and locked on hers, searching for even the tiniest bit of fear. She remembered what he’d said. That she’d just have to say the word and he’d stop. Juliet’s heart thundered around in her chest and her stomach did a little nervous dance, but she did as she was told. Maybe it was the alcohol, but more than likely it was the fact that she trusted Ian to keep her safe. While she was on her stomach, he slid her panties off and tossed them on the floor. Ran his hands over her bare bottom and spread her legs, dipping his fingers into her again. First one, then two. “When I decide,” he whispered and her inner muscles clenched around his fingers. When he pulled his hand away, Juliet groaned in disappointment. Ian put his hands on her hips and helped her up onto her knees. With her hands tied above her head, her face was turned to the side, half buried in the pillow, and her ass was up in the air. It made her feel vulnerable and exposed, but it meant she could see him. He slowly undid the buttons at his wrists. Untucked his shirt tails and then unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes fixated on her hips. When his shirt was open, baring little sneaking glimpses of his torso, he rolled up his sleeves and kneeled beside her. He spanked her once. Not hard enough to really hurt, just hard enough to make a sound. He rubbed her, caressing the spot, then he spanked her again. Then he plunged his fingers deep inside her, moved them in and out, stroking her inner walls and damned if he didn’t find that sensitive inner spot. The spot only he knew how to find. Her ass stung a little, but it mingled with what he was doing to her now and only added to her pleasure. “You like that, don’t you?” “Yes,” she gasped. He pulled his hand back and slapped her ass again. Once. Twice. It felt so good. She never thought it could feel so good. And then his fingers were inside her, his other hand reaching around to circle her clit and she cried out. Every time she felt close to climaxing, he withdrew his fingers, and spanked her again. The orgasm he was building had her quivering already. He brought his hand down on her, once, twice, not hard, but hard enough, and she waited for his fingers. Needed his fingers. And then there they were, plunging in and out, his thumb circling her clit and she came with a scream, harder than she ever had. Her muscles clenching tighter and tighter as he kept finding that spot inside her. There was truly no man like Ian Moore. The bed shifted and Ian stood. She moaned again, feeling a little trail of moisture work its way down her inner thigh. “You’re dripping, my angel. I like it.”

Juliet sagged on the bed and panted, trying to catch her breath. “You make me come so hard. I’ve never had orgasms like this before.” “I like that, too.” Ian ran a finger between her folds and Juliet cried out. “Now you be a good girl for me and stay just like that. I’ll be right back.” What? He was going to leave her? Legs quivering and body trembling? Helpless and tied to his bed? Ian swept from the room and she listened for him, heard the clink of ice on glass and the sound of him rummaging through a drawer. What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t long before he returned, carrying a bowl of something in one hand and a bandana in the other. “Now there’s a view I could get used to.” He set the bowl down on the night stand. “Flip over, beautiful, let me see you.” Juliet did as she was told and Ian showed her what was in the bowl. Ice. He put a piece in his mouth and sucked on it, bent over her and trailed it around her hard nipples, little bits of water snaking down her sides. He played until it was melted and she was gasping again, goosebumps standing out on her flesh, water pooling in her belly button. The spot between her legs throbbed with heat and moisture. Ian took another piece of ice from the bowl and held it in his mouth, scooted down the bed and parted her legs. Juliet lifted her head and watched him take the ice from his mouth and just barely touch it to her clit. Her hips bucked off the bed and she dropped her head back. He held the ice against her, circling on that little ball of pleasure and then pulled it away and replaced it with his mouth. The change from cold to hot was almost more than she could take. She cried out again, writhing beneath him. As he sucked and licked, he put the ice inside her opening, only to pull it out and replace it with his tongue. She was nothing but sensation, nothing but need. Her orgasm was building again, reaching even higher than before. “Ian, I’m gonna come again!” she called out, so close to release. “Do it. Come for me, Juliet,” he said and she did just that. When her breathing slowed, Ian stood and shrugged out of his shirt, undid his pants and stepped out of them. She could look at him like this all day. His cock straining towards her, his eyes filled with lust. He didn’t speak to her this time. He spread her thighs with his knees and pressed his tip against her opening. She threw her head back and he groaned, sliding himself all the way inside her until he was fully sheathed. She lost herself in his movement, in the sensation of having him inside her. She pulled on her bonds and called his name, his hips rocking and rolling and gaining speed as his own climax drew close. “Look at me,” he growled and she did, her teeth clenched and her eyes locked on his while he came with a shout, bringing her right along with him. He collapsed on top of her and she was surrounded by him, filled by him. His scent in her nose, her name on his lips, completely and utterly consumed by the amazing Ian Moore.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JULIET GROANED and opened her eyes onto a piercingly bright day, the sun streaking in through Ian’s curtain-less windows stabbing her right in her poor, hungover head. Ian’s head weighed heavy on her chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her close even in his sleep. She kissed his hair and breathed him in, closing her eyes and damning the wine. He stirred and she smiled. Waking up with him was a gift, hungover or not. Last night was amazing. Everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever needed, including things she hadn’t even thought of yet! He had taken control without being demeaning. Pushed her boundaries and played with pain, but did it so that it brought her pleasure. Made sure she came, and not just once. Oh no! Juliet came at least three times, and there was a good chance that her last orgasm started the moment he entered her and ended right about the time the sun came up. This was a man who didn’t just take control but was in control. A man who operated from a place of confidence instead of some injured psyche that demanded he be obeyed above all things. A man she could fall in love with. A man she already was in love with. She swallowed hard and kissed him again. “Do it again.” His voice was slurred with sleep. “Do what again?” “Kiss my head. It hurts. Red wine never has my best interest at heart.” Ian shifted, rolled onto his back and she immediately missed the contact of his skin on her skin. “You too, huh?” She draped an arm over her face. “As much as I appreciate the

whole waking up with the windows open to the sea thing, I think the sun wants to kill me.” Ian slid his feet off the side of the bed and sat up facing the window. Stretched while Juliet watched the muscles in his back flex and ripple, then stood, giving her an unobstructed view of his backside. “Body of an Adonis,” she said and pushed herself into a sitting position, clutching the sheet to her chest. Ian turned his head so his face was in profile over his shoulder, flexed his arms like a bodybuilder, and grit his teeth. “Ouch,” he said, grimacing. “I was gonna make a joke, but I think I just angered the red wine again.” “Goodness, don’t do that. It’s angry enough already.” Ian padded around the front of the bed towards his closet, paused when he saw her. “No, no, no. That won’t do. You can’t keep a body like that covered up. Drop that sheet, now.” Juliet giggled and let the sheet fall, exposing her breasts. “Ohhh,” she groaned. “Don’t make me laugh. It’s bad. It’s really, really bad.” “Alright then, what this needs is hangover food. Get dressed. We’re going to Good Beginnings.” Ian disappeared into his closet and reemerged with some clothes in his hand. “I can’t. I have to go let Lulu out.” “Fucking Lulu.” Juliet slid out of bed and started gathering last night’s clothes. “I thought you liked Lulu because she brought us together.” “Yeah, but right now, she’s keeping us apart.” Ian pulled on some boxer briefs and pants. “How about this. We’ll stop at your house, let Lulu out, you can put on some new clothes because my sexy little angel won’t be doing anything close to the walk of shame, wandering around town in last night’s clothes. And then, I’ll take you into Good Beginnings and we’ll stuff our faces with whatever the hell we feel like.” Juliet had to admit, the plan was a good one. Plus she really wasn’t ready to leave Ian’s company yet. She got dressed while Ian brushed his teeth, then they hopped in her car and Ian played with the dog while she took a few minutes to set herself to rights. It was only half an hour later that they found themselves seated in Ellie Charles’s cafe, coffee steaming in front of them, waiting for their food. “Rough night?” Ellie asked with a quirk of her eyebrows when she brought a huge tray supporting the odd array of items they’d ordered. “Oh, no. Rough morning,” said Ian, pulling a plate laden with pancakes in front of him. “The night was wonderful.” Juliet giggled and bit her lip, met Ellie’s eyes with a sweet smile and nodded her agreement. “You’ll get no complaints from me.” “Too much info, you two. Too much.” Ellie held up a hand and turned away, laughing gently to herself on her way back to the counter. Juliet made quick work of breakfast, finishing a plate of pancakes, some bacon,

and a biscuit, and drinking both an orange juice and a Coke in between sips of coffee. Ellie had made several trips back, wielding coffee like a trained hangover nurse and carrying away empty plates. “So, looking back, was there anything about last night you didn’t like?” Ian asked, picking at a piece of buttered toast. “Anything you think fear or wine talked you into doing that you don’t think you want to do again?” Julz thought through the night, taking the time to really process his question. The muscles deep in her belly flared to life and clenched, and damn if she didn’t get a little wet. “Nope,” she said with certainty. “Not one thing.” Ian’s broad smile brought out one of her own. “That’s what I like to hear. You think we hit your limit? Or could we play some more?” “Oh, I’m pretty sure we could do some more exploring. You don’t scare me. I feel safe with you.” “You should. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” Ian leaned forward. “That you didn’t like, that is.” Juliet hid her blush behind a long drink of coffee, the caffeine waging a very successful war against the pain in her head. “I’m so full.” She sat back in the booth, keeping her coffee in her hands. “But I’m not queasy anymore, so I’m not complaining.” Ian cleared his throat and a serious expression fell across his face. “So, I was thinking,” he began and she was instantly queasy again, the change in him making her nervous. “If Michael Phillips broke the terms of your agreement, then he’s in breach of contract. I know you’re afraid he’s gonna try and find you or something, but I don't think you need to worry. He's probably thrilled you disappeared because you’re the one holding all the cards.” Juliet shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m in breach of contract, too. I told both you and my friend Willow about what was going on. That’s a pretty direct violation of the non-disclosure clause. And I’m less and less sure he’s gonna want to find me. I think I’m just another notch on that belt, you know? Another name on a dotted line. But, I really don’t want to tempt fate. Tech Lord still owes me my final paycheck, and I sure would like to get it. I just can’t bring myself to reach out in case he comes swooping down on me and ruins all this.” Juliet made a sweeping motion, gesturing to Ian and the little strip of downtown Bliss out the window. “If he owes you money, there’s no reason not to reach out and get it.” “Yeah, but what if he gets mad and starts accusing me of stuff? What if he, I don’t know, sues me? What if he goes after Willow, or you, because you know the truth about what he likes. What if… ” She couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence, to speak the fear that hung so heavily on her. What if he tried to kill me so I couldn't say anything? “Do you really think any of that will happen?” “I don't know. Not really…? But Ian, I’m really afraid of him. He’s got a lot of money, and a lot of power, a whole team of lawyers, and I’m in a pretty good spot to understand that he’s not exactly working with a full batch of cookies.”

“Cookies, huh?” Ian asked with a wry smile. “That what you’re going with?” “You better believe it.” Ian sat back and watched out the window while Juliet thought through all the fear she had surrounding Michael. It’d been, what? Over a month since she’d left? Surely, seeing as Michael really did have all the money and power and technology he could ever need right there at his greedy little fingertips, he would have found her if he really wanted to. His continued silence spoke volumes. “I think you should ask for your paycheck,” Ian said breaking the silence. All the reassurance Juliet had been feeling dissipated. “It’s not worth it.” “No. I think it is. Sure, he’s rich and powerful and has a team of lawyers, but that might not exactly work in his favor. Money, power, and lawyers? The Moore family has those things, too, and you know what? If my lawyer talks to his lawyer, I bet Michael Phillips would end up terrified of the court case that might follow on the heels of any contact he made with you other than sending you the money you’re owed. You know, high profile CEO’s tend to shy away from sex scandals that make them out as selfish, abusive, assholes.” Juliet didn’t know what to say. What Ian just said made a whole hell of a lot of sense. Maybe she’d been safe this whole time, just because of the nature of the very relationship she’d been scared of. She grinned. Couldn’t have kept a straight face if she tried. “You are so right.” “Of course I’m right. That’s what I do.” “He’s not gonna want me anywhere near a courthouse, or a microphone, or a news crew. Even if his mighty team of lawyers came slamming down on my head, the damage would be done to him the moment I opened my mouth.” “And if his lawyers even looked at your sweet little head the wrong way, my lawyers would be all over their asses.” Ian leaned forward and took her hands in his. “And you better believe that if he tried to hurt you, he'd have to get through me first.” Juliet beamed at Ian and for the first time she could think about Michael Phillips without feeling like she was left to the mercy of his actions. Like he could destroy her on a whim. Hell no. Not now. With Ian at her side, it turned out that she was the one in control of this situation. Michael was in the palm of her hand, at her mercy. Not the other way around. “Can I take that shit-eating grin as a sign that you’re gonna go after your last paycheck?” “Hell yeah, I am. I’ll contact the Tech Lord human resource department as soon as I get home.” Ian sat back. “How about this. Don’t contact them.” Juliet frowned. Didn't he just talk her into calling about the money they owed her? How could she do that without making contact? “What do you mean?” “I want you to let me get my lawyers involved. That way he knows to not even think about coming after you.” “You’d do that for me?”

“You bet your sweet ass I’d do that for you.” The smile was on her face again and she was nodding, laughing a little in disbelief. How had she gotten so lucky? She’d literally chosen Bliss on a whim and it’d been the best decision she’d ever made in all her life. All the years before Ian were cold and gray and mechanical. Stressful and tense. Since moving to Bliss and meeting Ian her world was filled with color and laughter. Things were easy. Right. Like this was the life she’d been destined to live.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“ARE you sure I look okay?” Juliet stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom and fussed with her dress, picked at her hair, leaned in and checked her makeup. “You could look okay in a burlap sack.” Ian looked amazing, as usual, leaning back on her bed, his jeans hugging all the right spots in all the right ways, his cowboy boots kept respectfully off the duvet. “I just really want to make a good impression, that’s all.” Ian stood and crossed the room, wrapped his arms around her and met her eyes through the mirror. “They’re gonna love you. You’ve already met my brothers, and they’ve been busy going on and on about you ever since. If I was the jealous type, well, I’d be jealous.” Ian kissed her right behind her ear. “Besides, you’ve been so busy making me happy that my parents are halfway to charmed by you already. That only leaves Lilah and she doesn’t like anyone. Until they compliment her,” Ian said quickly when Julz whirled, eyes wide with alarm. “So now you’ve got a secret weapon. Tell her you like her shoes and you’re in there.” It’s only lunch, she kept telling herself on the car ride to the Moore family home. You’ve done lunch plenty of times with high powered people at Tech Lord. After their conversation at Good Beginnings last week, that name didn’t make her nerves go skittering around out of control anymore. Ian’s lawyers were busy talking to Michael’s lawyers and, according to Ian, things were going well. Just knowing that she had so many people in between her and Michael felt good. Knowing one of those people was Ian? Well, she felt damn near invincible. “This is not the quaint little beachside home you described,” she said as he

pulled into the driveway. She worried the hem of her skirt between her thumb and middle finger. “This is a huge-ass beachside mansion.” “I never said it was little.” “But you did use the word quaint.” “Yes, I did. That’s very true. This isn’t some cold, modern, billionaire’s hideaway. This is warm and inviting, the home I grew up in.” Ian threw the car in park and turned the key in the ignition, but didn’t get out. “Those things are all true, but you have to know that when you use the word quaint it just automatically means small.” “No. It really doesn’t. It means picturesque and charming. Not small.” Juliet sighed and stared at him. She didn’t mean to be difficult; she was just so nervous. Not only did she want the Moores to love her, but this lunch was pretty much everything she’d ever wanted as a child. Hell, as an adult, too, for that matter. A family lunch where everyone came together, laughing and joking? At the home all the kids had grown up in, nonetheless? She’d been lucky to have a sullen meal in the same room with her mom and step-dad in any of the many houses they’d lived in throughout the years. And her biological dad? Yeah, right. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just—” “Nervous,” he finished for her and smiled. Reached out and took her hands. Kissed each one and then held them to his lips. “You’re gonna be fine. Now, we’ve officially used up my calm and patient demeanor and it’s time for you to buck the hell up, Private Lane.” Juliet stifled a giggle. “Yes, sir!” she said with a curt nod, trying to lose her nerves by playing. “Ah, ah, ahhh.” Ian dropped her hands and waggled a finger at her. “What did I say about that word?” They got out of the car and Ian led her up to the front door, his hand grazing the small of her back. He didn’t knock, just opened the door and tried to guide her through. Juliet froze. She really didn’t want to go in first. Many threads of mingled conversation and what sounded like some kind of sporting event on the TV burbled out towards her, mixed with the scent of something delicious. All very warm and welcoming and utterly, completely, terrifying. She hung back and Ian gave her an odd look, but went in first anyway. “Hey! You’re favorite first born is here with a very important guest!” Ian took Juliet’s hand and led her through the entryway into an open first floor where his family was gathered in the living area, ignoring the TV and focusing on a very sullen James. A tiny woman, her gray-streaked dark hair still long and thick and pulled back into a low ponytail, bounded up to them and wrapped her arms around Ian. “So good to see you. I miss you every day, you know. You need to come around more.” Ian dwarfed his mother. “I was here just the other day.” “Were you here yesterday?” “No.”

“The day before?” “No. But I was here the day before that.” “Well, that just proves my point. You need to be here more.” Ian’s mother disengaged from her son and took both Juliet’s hands in her own. “And this must be the angel that’s made you so happy lately.” Ian put a hand on Juliet’s shoulders. “The very one. Mom, this is Juliet Lane. Juliet, meet the woman who gave me life.” Juliet smiled and dipped her head. “Mrs. Moore.” “Oh, we can just drop that nonsense before you even start it. Call me Diane. I’d tell you to call me Mom, everyone always does, but I’m afraid Ian would think I was trying to be prophetic or something.” Diane dropped an eyelid in the very same conspiratorial wink her son used. The one that Juliet loved so much. She couldn’t help but smile when Ian blustered in some kind of shocked response to his mother’s statement. Was he actually blushing? She’d never seen Ian look out of sorts. Never ever. It was kind of adorable. An elegant older man ambled over, his salt and pepper hair thick and long enough to curl at his ears and neck line. “So this is the one, is it?” He asked, extending a hand. “Juliet? Did I hear that correctly?” This man just oozed power and confidence. He had Juliet’s eyes dropping to the floor and a flush running up her cheeks. “Yes, sir. Juliet Lane.” Mr. Moore shook his head and laughed. “What did my wife just say, young lady? We can drop all that formality nonsense. You call me Frank and I’ll make up some funny nickname for you and we’ll just call it a normal Sunday, understand?” Frank’s eyes crinkled merrily and Juliet relaxed significantly. Even if she had used the dreaded ‘sir’ word. “Well, come in, come in, meet the rest of us.” Diane paused and looked thoughtful. “And I guess by that, I just mean Lilah because from what I hear, you’ve already met the boys.” The three Moores led Juliet over to the living room. Harry sprung off the sofa and gave her a quick, though awkward, hug. James just waved, barely taking his eyes off the TV, and that just left Lilah—a striking blonde who regarded Juliet as if she had something nasty in her hair. “So this is the girl everyone won’t stop talking about, huh?” Lilah regarded Juliet from her place on the sofa without making a move to get up or even extend a hand. “Juliet, this is my very rude little sister, Lilah.” Ian gave Lilah one hell of a look while Diane chastised her daughter for not being polite. “It’s nice to meet you, Lilah.” Juliet ignored Lilah’s caustic attitude and took a seat when it was offered to her. When it was appropriate, Juliet found a chance to compliment the youngest Moore on her entire outfit. And it wasn’t a fake compliment, either. Lilah truly looked stunning. It wasn’t long before everyone was talking and laughing and telling stories about Ian’s childhood. Well, everyone except for James, who kept his attention mostly on the TV. Lunch was delicious, a combined effort of both Harry and Diane.

“Harrison didn’t just spring forth into this world knowing how to work magic in the kitchen,” said Frank when Juliet complimented the meal. “Diane passed her gift onto him. “And I got all the looks,” chimed in Lilah, smiling broadly. “And Ian got all the smarts, and poor James, he got all the leftovers.” The Moores all snickered and joined in, poking fun at James in what sounded like a long-standing family joke. When James only grew more sullen, Ian held up a hand. “Look, man,” he said as the family quieted, “you’ve been off all day. What’s up?” James sighed and took a drink of coffee, a stalling technique Juliet recognized all too well. The entire family grew tense and Juliet wished she could ball herself up and disappear. Whatever was going on with him was none of her business and the flicker of his eyes to hers only confirmed that. James sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin. “Erin and I called off the wedding.” And the look in his eyes revealed a heart breaking into a thousand pieces that only splintered into a thousand more. “I almost didn’t come,” he said, pushing his chair back from the table to stand. “But I didn’t want to be rude by not showing up and I thought I could pull off a good mood. I’m sorry to ruin your day,” he said to Juliet as he stood and left the room. There was an explosion of sound and movement while the Moores rushed to console James. Ian muttered an apology and promised to be right back and suddenly, Juliet was alone at the table. She sucked in her lips and stared around the empty room, trying to decide just what to do with herself. Pictures adorned the wall in the hallway near the entrance, she’d seen them when she’d come in. She could go amuse herself with looking at them, but maybe that would come across as snooping. She didn’t think it would, but one never knew how private people could be. All she knew was that she felt pretty damn awkward, and totally like the odd man out. She considered going home, just making a quiet exit so the family could console James, but she’d come with Ian and the Moores lived far enough away that a walk home was out of the question. After taking a couple nervous sips of her coffee, she decided to clear the table. She couldn’t just sit there alone anymore with nothing to do. Careful to leave any plates that looked like someone hadn’t finished, Juliet carried everything into the kitchen. Deciding that actually doing the dishes might be going too far, Juliet wandered into the hallway and amused herself looking at the pictures on the wall that chronicled the entirety of each Moore child’s life. She saw Ian, tall and gangly and missing a few teeth with his arm around a very dirty James. That had to be Harry, there, with his hair streaked with blonde and curly with sweat and Lilah sitting daintily in her diaper, bows in her nearly nonexistent hair. She found school pictures, and bad hair days, goofy outfits and camping trips. Juliet smiled and traced a finger along some of the best ones, getting a feel for the happy family Ian grew up in. In almost every picture, Ian had his arm around at least one of his brothers, but more often than not, he had both of them under an arm, and sometimes, he

managed to squeeze Lilah in there as well. Watching them all get progressively taller and stronger and better looking, it became more and more clear that Ian was the rock for his siblings. That he took care of them. Protected them. A hero and guardian from day one. As the pictures progressed into the high school years, James often had his arm around a girl, a pretty blonde thing with a wide smile. The pictures of her started off with that smile showing off crooked teeth, then braces, then, in one of the last few, the girl—who was a woman in these—was proudly showing off a diamond on her left hand. Damn. Judging by these pictures, James just dumped the girl he grew up with. Called off a wedding after at least ten years of dating what looked like his first love. Juliet’s heart broke for him. She remembered the loss of her first love, and they’d only dated a year or two. It’d been harsh and bitter and hard enough to make her retreat into herself for a long time, afraid to put her heart into anyone else’s hands. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what James was going through. She wandered back down the hallway, looking for pictures of Ian she’d skipped while following James’s progression with Erin. She found a few of him in his dress whites and stopped. He looked so handsome! So proud. So strong and straight and trustworthy. She found a few of him, standing in front of an airplane, beaming. The guy beside him was the same in each picture. A vibrant guy with a joking smile. “That’s Bradley.” Diane’s voice came from behind, soft, nearly a whisper. “Ian’s co-pilot.” Juliet spun and pulled her hand back from the frame. “I didn’t mean to pry … I’m sorry ….” “Don’t be. There are no secrets in this house. Thank you for clearing the table, by the way. You didn’t have to.” Juliet shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Diane moved in beside her, ran a finger along the picture Juliet had been studying. “We were so proud of Ian when he decided to join the Navy. Scared, too. Very scared. And maybe not supportive enough because of that fear. But not surprised. He told us he was going to fly planes when he was barely able to speak and didn’t change his story for the rest of his childhood.” “That sounds like the Ian I know. Gets his mind on something and then just goes for it.” “I’d say that about sums him up.” Diane met Juliet’s eyes and Juliet felt like she’d known the woman for more than just the afternoon. Like she herself had been in those pictures on the wall. A lifelong friend, practically a member of the family rather than a stranger. “When we got word that his plane had gone down…” Diane shook her head and put a hand to her stomach. “There aren’t words to express the hole that appeared in my belly that day. Even knowing he was going to live didn’t completely fill it back up again. A fear like that—the fear a mother feels when her child is in danger—it stays with her.” “How badly was he hurt?” “He was pretty bad off for a while. But I think it was losing Bradley that did the

most damage. Ian makes it his job to protect the people he cares about.” Juliet nodded and gestured towards the wall of pictures. “I’m figuring that out.” She gave a little shrug. “And I’m feeling it myself. He makes me feel so safe.” Diane touched Juliet’s arm. “Oh, you are. If you’ve got my Ian in your corner, you couldn’t be more safe.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

IAN KNEW that his mom was taking care of Juliet while he took care of James. He could hear them in the kitchen, talking and working on the dishes together. It made him smile, listening to the two of them together. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could tell they were enjoying each other. Leave it to Mom, he thought. After the entire family had followed James outside, Ian had stood back and watched while James fended off their mother’s attempts to pull him into a hug. James had bristled when their dad had tried to give him some bullshit piece of advice on the power of positivity. Lilah had stuck her foot in her mouth and rushed off in a huff and Harry had nothing more for James than a quick hug and an apologetic smile. They had all filtered off back inside the house, leaving Ian leaning against the house while James sank down to take a seat on one of the porch steps. “It was inevitable, you know,” James said after a long silence. “Was it?” Ian didn’t move, gave James the space he needed. “Yup.” James nodded, staring off into the distance. The cicadas sang in the hot summer sun and a bead of sweat worked its way down Ian’s back. Another eternity of silence passed between the brothers before James continued. “She was cheating on me,” he finally whispered, as if the admission proved some fault of his own.

“How’d you find out?” “Things weren’t good between us. They hadn’t been for a long time. We fought more than we did anything else.” James turned and met Ian’s eye, indicated he could sit next to him with a nod of his head. “I suspected for a while and finally confronted her last night.” Ian took a seat next to James, and stared off into the distance with him. “What’d she say?” “She was honest. Finally. Told me it wasn’t the first time.” James’s voice cracked a little and Ian ignored it. Gave him the time he needed to compose himself. “Said she wasn’t in love with me anymore. Said she hadn’t been for a long time.” Anger surged through Ian. If Erin hadn’t been in love with James, if she’d been unhappy enough to cheat, then why in hell had she agreed to get married? Why did she let things get so far? If she’d been cheating on him all this time, why in the world would she let him think everything was okay? Ian didn’t say any of those things, though. James didn’t need to hear them. Was probably thinking them himself. What James needed was time and space. So Ian would sit here quietly. He’d give James his time. As much as his little brother needed. “I was foolish to think we’d make it. Foolish to think I could marry my childhood girlfriend.” James turned a sad face to Ian and rolled his eyes. “We were thirteen when we got together. What kind of fool would believe we’d actually make it? That through all the changes of our teenage years we’d just keep changing together?” “You’re not a fool. You fell in love and wanted to stay there. There’s nothing wrong in that.” “There’s plenty wrong in that since I was busy ignoring all the signs that we weren’t actually in love anymore. That we hadn’t been in a long time.” James sighed. “I avoided her. I didn’t want to be with her. Got excited when she said she had a girl’s night planned. We didn’t like to do the same things. We didn’t like to watch the same shows. We didn’t even laugh at the same jokes. And, really, looking back, we never did. At least not after we hit puberty. We stayed together out of habit. Not because we wanted to be together.” James shrugged. “Hey, look man. I’m ruining this whole day, being a selfish asshole.” “You’re not ruining anything. I’m here for you. We all are.” “Yeah, well, that’s the first girl you’ve ever brought home to meet Mom and Dad. Don’t pretend like I didn’t notice. And don’t pretend like they didn’t notice. I’m an asshole for bringing this up today.” James stood and crammed his hands into his back pockets. “I’m gonna go. Give everyone my love.” Ian watched James walk to his car, shoulders slumped, chin nearly on his chest. He raised a hand as his brother pulled out of the driveway and let it drop when James was out of sight. Ian’s mind was going a million miles per hour. The way James had described his relationship with Erin, that also described most of Ian’s relationships up until now. Okay, all of Ian’s relationships. The luster of each new

woman had worn off quickly. They’d make fun of his boots, or roll their eyes when he got bossy. They’d be too strong or not strong enough. And before Ian knew it, he’d be just as happy to have a night alone then to have a night with whatever girl he was with. And here it was, what? Ian did a quick calculation in his head. It was almost July, so he’d spent almost every hour of every day with Juliet for just over the last two months and all he wanted was more. More of her time, more of her energy, more of her body. More laughter, more secrets. More … of her. His heart pounded in his chest and an idea started to form that had his stomach flip-flopping around in his belly. What the hell was that? Was he actually getting butterflies? Aren’t they supposed to be a good thing? How could anyone call feeling like this a good thing? He heard Juliet’s laughter, wrapped up with the rest of his family’s and his heart swelled until he thought it would burst. So this is the one? his dad had asked when they arrived just a few hours ago. Yes, Ian thought as he headed back into the house, yelling out for an explanation as to what was so funny. Yes, I really think she is.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DAYS PASSED with Juliet sweating next to Ian while they worked on her house. Painting and laying floor and tearing down wallpaper. Turns out that yes, Ian did know enough about plumbing to replace the tub and sink in the bathroom. Nights passed with Juliet sweating next to Ian some more, but for entirely different reasons. The man knew just how to make her feel so good, better than anyone ever had. Ever. Period. The end. And not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. The brief moments she wasn’t with him, she yearned for him. Aware of his absence as if she’d lost a piece of herself. Like right now, she was getting ready for some big Fourth of July bash in downtown Bliss and she was all alone, save for Lulu who kept running in circles around her feet and tripping her as she went back and forth from her closet to the mirror. Ian was involved in today’s festivities somehow and was already down there, doing whatever it was he had to do. He hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming about what he was doing. But he’d had that devilish smile on his face, the one that meant he was working on something he thought she would like, so she just played along and kissed him long and hard before he left this morning. After about her millionth trip to her closet, she decided on wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts because Ian was so fond of her legs. She paired them with a little halter top and finally pulled her hair back into a ponytail because it was going to be a hot one and she didn’t want to spend the whole day with her hair stuck to her neck by sweat. One final look in the mirror proved that she looked cute and casual,

perfectly acceptable for a Fourth of July picnic and parade, and Juliet dashed downstairs. “Come on, Lulu, let’s get your leash.” She just needed to take the dog out to go potty before she left and decided to check the mail while she was out there. Hot air hit her in the face when she opened the front door. The cicadas sang in time with the ocean waves and her sandals crunched on the gravel in her driveway. It wasn’t too long ago that she would step outside to find honking and yelling, noise and commotion just a normal part of leaving her house. She would choke on smog and the scent of urine in the subway. Have to fight through a crowd just for a decent square of grass to stretch a blanket out on when she visited Central Park. Now, her world was clean and open, with vast expanses of sea and sky, just for her. The air salty and briny and fresh. It made her feel alive. Real. She wasn’t a cog in the wheel anymore. She moved at her own pace, doing the things that felt best to her. Her mailbox was full and she juggled Lulu’s leash while she sorted through the envelopes and bits of junk mail in her hand until she saw an envelope with a familiar logo in the corner. Her name and address were etched Michael Phillip’s clean and formal script and it set her teeth on edge. Holding the rest of the mail by pressing it to her side with an elbow and sliding the loop of Lulu’s leash over her wrist, Juliet tore into the letter. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the cicadas and the sea. Inside the envelope were two pieces of paper. One, a check with way too many zeros to make any sense. The other, a typed letter with Michael Phillips’ scrawling signature angling across the bottom of the page. She read with shaky hands.

Ms. LaneEnclosed, you’ll find a check that includes your last paycheck. If you have any questions, please contact your lawyers rather than myself or any other Tech Lord representative. Thank youMichael Phillips CEO, Tech Lord

JULIET FLIPPED THE PAPER OVER, looking for any other piece of information to explain the huge number she’d seen on the check and found nothing. Surely she’d misread the number. Hands still shaking, she slid the check out from behind the letter and read everything another four or five times before her knees went weak.

How many zeros was that? She wanted to scream. To jump up and down and dance and sing. But she wasn’t going to get her hopes up until she’d contacted Ian’s lawyers and found out what this was all about. Surely, she told herself over and over as she put the mail and the dog inside and locked the door. Surely there’s been some kind of mistake. But what had Michael meant when he’d said that the check includes her last paycheck? That little sentence made it sound like the check wasn’t a mistake. Except, it had to be. That many zeros were life-changing. There’s no way something like that was just going to fall into her lap. Cars crowded the streets of downtown Bliss and red, white, and blue decorations hung from street lamps and doorways. Families trudged down the sidewalk, parents trailing beach bags and children, lawn chairs and coolers. Juliet found a spot near Good Beginnings and parked the car. A few people smiled and nodded as she joined in the procession of people heading in towards Town Center, where the city had erected a small stage for the brass band to play before and after the parade. Juliet eyed the crowd. She was supposed to meet the Moores here before they found a spot to watch the parade together. It was Harry who spotted her first. She saw him standing tall, waving his arms up over his head to catch her attention. Turning sideways from time to time to avoid errant lawn chairs or overly stuffed diaper bags, Juliet made her way through the crowd to where the Moores had gathered near the stage. “Hey,” she said as she arrived in front of them. Diane gave her a funny look and then wrapped Juliet up in a tight hug. “Hello, my dear.” Juliet didn’t quite know what to do, but she unfroze after only a second and returned Diane’s hug. “I don’t have a chair,” she said, when Diane loosened her grip. “But I brought a towel, if it won’t embarrass you to be seen with me, sitting on the ground.” Diane was on the verge of answering when a swell of music from the musicians cut her off. The people who had gathered today—and that was just about all of Bliss from what Juliet could tell—quieted and stood, facing the stage. Diane gave Juliet one of those Moore family winks and the same devilish smile Ian had given her this morning. What in the world was going on here? An elderly man in military dress blues took the stage and stood in front of a microphone. “Welcome to Bliss’s annual Fourth of July Festival!” The old man spread his arms in greeting and the crowd cheered. Harry touched Juliet’s arm and beamed at her, a goofy grin, way too excited to be just because of the parade. Unless the guy just really liked parades. “Before our illustrious band plays our National Anthem, I’d like to call the heroes and veterans of Bliss onto the stage, so that we might all give them our thanks.” The crowd roared and applauded while a small line of men and women of various ages, in various dress uniforms, all crammed onto the stage with the band and the old man at the microphone. Juliet’s heart flip-flopped at the sight of Ian up there in his dress whites. So

handsome. So strong. Chin lifted, chest out, eyes proud. God, he was gorgeous. He was everything she’d ever wanted. Ever needed. She’d fallen in love with him weeks ago. Hell, she’d been in love with him before she’d even known who he was. He was just that perfect for her. The band started into the national anthem and the men and women onstage snapped to attention, saluting the crowd. The cheers and applause died down as the audience put their hands over their heart and sang along with the band. Tears pricked Juliet’s eyes and pride swelled her heart. That man up there, the one who’d rescued her dog at the rest stop, the one who’d given her directions when she needed them and a home when she didn’t have one. The one who’d thawed her heart and helped her remember what it meant to trust someone with her entire being, to know what it was to love unconditionally, he wasn’t just her hero. He was the town’s hero, too. She’d never felt so full. So overjoyed. So proud. The song ended and people broke into discussion, gave their attention back to their families and sat down. Juliet watched as Ian found her in the crowd and a smile broke across his face that echoed in her heart. He winked at her one more time. Then took a deep breath and stepped towards the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his powerful voice booming out over the loudspeakers. “If I could have your attention for just one more moment.” Ian smiled out at the crowd and then his eyes settled on hers. The Moores all sat down, leaving Juliet as the one person left standing in their little group. Her eyes filled with tears and her hands shook and she swallowed all of it down when he smiled at her. “Juliet,” he said and she gasped. “I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved another. I need you like I need the sky. And if you know me at all, then you know that’s a whole hell of a lot.” Juliet was aware of light laughter around those gathered, heard a few surprised gasps, and somewhere, someone sniffled. She still hadn’t taken a breath yet. Waiting for him to continue. “Each moment I’m with you only leaves me wanting more. So, I’m here today, in front of this whole town, asking you to give me more. Give me all the time I’ll ever need. I’m asking you to be my wife. Juliet Lane, will you marry me?” Juliet finally breathed. One stuttering choking sob of a breath and Ian hopped off the stage, ambled over to her while digging in his pocket and got down on one knee in front of her, opening a small velvet box. It’s too fast, said her head to her heart. Oh, shut up, said her heart to her head. Juliet knew without a doubt that this man was designed for her and she was designed for him. She put her hands to her mouth and nodded frantically, unable to find her voice. “I need to hear you say it,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Yes,” she whispered and then laughed as he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her fingers. “She said yes!” he called out to the people gathered in the square. There was

another round of cheers and applause and the band started playing. Juliet pulled Ian to his feet and wrapped herself up in his arms. All around her, people came by to congratulate them, and Juliet just smiled and nodded, numb and still kind of in shock. She’d known it from the moment she’d seen him, that she’d always need more and more of the amazing Ian Moore and now, she was going to get just that. A whole lifetime of more. THEY SAT THROUGH THE PARADE, unable to let go of each other’s hand and finally begged off to go home as dusk fell. Ian sent her to her house to get Lulu before meeting her at his house because there was no way he was spending another night without her in his bed. And now, here she stood on his front porch, cracking open the door with Lulu held under one arm. She put the dog down and looked around. There was a trail of rose petals that began at the front door and meandered through the candlelit house. She followed them out onto the back porch where she found Ian waiting, still dressed in his uniform, leaning on the deck rail, watching the sun kiss the sea. “You took too long,” he said without turning around. “It only took fifteen minutes.” “That’s fifteen minutes I had to spend without you. Don’t ever leave my side again.” Juliet stood beside him and pressed her shoulder to his. “I can’t imagine ever being without you.” “Good. Don’t.” Ian took her face in both hands and kissed her long and deep, before lifting his face and pulling her in close. “Ian? I got a letter from Michael today. A letter with a very large check…” His eyes lit up. “Already? That was fast! And it couldn’t have come on a better day.” Ian kissed the top of her head. “Oh my angel, we have so much to celebrate.” “But, the check … it’s for a lot of money…” “It better be. My lawyers felt you needed some compensation for all your pain and suffering. It didn’t take too long before his lawyers agreed, too. So now, not only do you have a shitload of your own money, but you’re about to have a shitload of my money, so baby, I’m gonna put my foot down on that waitressing job. Why don’t you help me flip houses? Come work with me?” Juliet buried her face in Ian’s chest and held onto him for dear life. “I’ve never been so happy,” she said, lifting her face to his, tears sparkling in her eyes. “And I’ve said that each and every day since I’ve met you, only to find myself saying it and meaning it the very next day. And the next. Every moment I spend with you is a gift. You’ve shown me who I really am … I am so, head over heels, crazy in love with you.” Ian gazed into her eyes and ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “Ditto.” He kissed her forehead, then her eyelids, then the tip of her nose. He kissed one side of her mouth, then her jawline, then that spot just below her ear. “The fireworks are

gonna start here in a minute,” he said, nuzzling her neck, and it took her a moment to understand that he really meant fireworks. The ones for the Fourth of July celebration. “Now tell me, Ms. Lane, have you ever made love on a private beach while fireworks color the sky and the sea? Juliet giggled and shook her head. Ian swept her up in his arms and carried her down to the beach. “Well, now. We’re just gonna have to fix that.” WANT to know as soon as Abby’s next book is released? Click here to join Abby’s Reader Group to get notified on release day.

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ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)

ALSO BY ABBY BROOKS The Moore Brothers Series Blown Away (Ian and Juliet) Carried Away (James and Ellie) Swept Away (Harry and Willow) Break Away (Lilah and Cole)

Love Is… Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)