PROLOGUE

QUINN-TWO MONTHS EARLIER . . .

“Quinn, sweetie, we need to leave.”

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the casket that’s been

lowered into the ground. My toes have gone numb from standing in

my uncomfortable black heels that I bought for the funeral. My mother’s funeral.

The words bounce around my head as if I can’t actually believe them. I reach over and grab my cousin Genevieve’s hand, which is resting on my shoulder, and

squeeze it gently.

“Okay, I’m ready.” I look toward the sky, holding back my tears even though

I know there’s no more left to cry. I run my hand down the smooth, cool wood of

the casket, saying goodbye one last time.

“Are you going to be okay in that house tonight? You know you can stay with Livy and me.”

I link my arm through Gen’s as we make our way toward her car.

“I know, and I appreciate it. I promise I’ll be okay. If I’m honest, I think I just need to process everything. It still doesn’t feel . . . real.”

She pats my arm before we separate and climb into her car. “Well, Livy is always excited to see her Aunt Quinn, so please let me know if you need anything or just want to chill out, drink wine, and look at old pictures.”

I know I’m not technically Livy’s aunt, but Gen and I have always

considered ourselves sisters, and I’ve always been Aunt Quinn to her daughter.

I give her the same pathetic smile I’ve had plastered on my face all day. Gen

and I have been close for as long as I can remember. We’re the two youngest

cousins and spent most summers and weekends together. She even lived with us for a few months when her parents were dealing with some pretty serious marriage issues when we were in grade school. They ended up separating for a

few years, but they eventually worked things out and have been together ever since.

“Your mom is . . . was . . .” I see her glance over at me quickly before turning her eyes back toward the road, “the most amazing person, Quinn. I know

you know this, but she was always there for me when I was a kid, ya know?”

“Yeah,” is the only word I can muster as I feel my eyes glaze over.

I know everyone means well telling me these things, but I’m exhausted

emotionally and mentally, and not just from the activities of today. The last two years of my mom’s life were a horrible fucking emotional roller coaster. I’ve always heard that the only thing stronger than fear is hope, but I never realized the truth in that saying until my mom went through cancer. You can’t help but cling to any sort of hope as you go from oncologist to specialist desperate for second opinions and answers. You start putting faith in statistics that are so not in your favor, but you’re desperate.

“When my parents were going through their shit, and when I got pregnant at

16, she was the first one to show me love and support instead of judgment.”

Gen is two years younger than me, so when she got pregnant at such a young

age, her parents didn’t take the news very well. They felt they were losing control. Now they worship the ground that Olivia “Livy” walks on and there are

no hard feelings between them.

I don’t respond, and instead just watch out the window as she drives me back

to my childhood home. I’m not looking forward to all the things that need my attention now that my mom has passed away. I know I have to go through all of

her things and put the house on the market. I briefly considered keeping the house since it’s paid for and it’s all I’ve ever known as home, but I need a fresh start.

A few nights ago, I reached out to the owner of an Airbnb in Colorado. I’ve

had this fantasy since I was young, where I’d find this gorgeous mountain retreat and spend a few months writing my novel. It sounded silly once Mom was

diagnosed with cancer and our entire world was turned upside down, but now it’s all I have to cling to.

My mom and I were best friends, always. We did everything together and despite the fact that the last few years of her life were hell for her, she never stopped encouraging me to pursue my dreams. For the longest time, I lost sight

of those dreams. I felt guilty for even imagining what my life could look like had I not been taking care of her 24/7.

Gen pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park before turning to face me. I don’t feel like another heartfelt you’re going to be okay talk. I pull her in for a hug before she can say anything.

“Gen,” I pause, not wanting to cry again, “thank you.” She gives me a tight-

lipped smile, clearly picking up on my exhaustion, and I exit the car.

I don’t look around as I walk into the house. I’m not ready to take that trip

down memory lane without my mom’s hospital bed in the front room. Instead, I

head straight to the bathroom to strip out of my funeral clothes and wash the day off of me.

I let my head lull forward as the water runs over my tense shoulders. Every

time I close my eyes, I see my mom’s smiling face. Something that always brought me comfort is now a reminder of loss. I can feel tears start to bubble up again, so I shut off the water and grab my towel.

The music streaming from my iPhone on the counter is interrupted by the ping of a text message. I slide the screen open and I’m immediately greeted by a

message with a smiling selfie of Liv and Gen, their faces smooshed together.

GEN

Hey, just checking in . . . we looooove you.

I laugh—a genuine laugh—something I haven’t done in weeks. I type out a

response and snap a selfie making a kissy-face toward the camera and hit SEND.

ME

I love you guys so much.

After lathering my face and body in lotion—because mom always taught me

to never skip it no matter what—I grab a bottle of red wine and make my way to my couch. I pick up my laptop and plop down to check out the Airbnb in Colorado again.

I sent a message to the owner this morning, asking him if three months would suffice for his request of long-term tenants only after he’d previously replied with a very curt NOPE— yes, in all caps—to my request to stay for a month. I open the app and see a red dot indicating I have a message. I open it and read:

Miss Prescott,

Yes, three months will suffice.

—Sawyer

MY HEART JUMPS a little at the message and I smile. I haven’t told Gen yet,

but I’ve decided to move away from Idaho just to focus on myself and try to figure out life for a little bit. The cabin I found in the Rocky Mountains looks like the perfect retreat to finally write my novel—a dream I thought had passed

me by. I don’t overthink it, and instead just reply back to him:

Mr. Archer,

Great! I’ll take it!!

—Quinn

I HIT SEND BEFORE I can second-guess the number of exclamation points I

included. I select the dates on the calendar, enter my information, and hit BOOK.

I scroll through the photos of the cabin again and squeal a little to myself that this gorgeous place will be mine for three whole months.

The listing states that the upper floor of the cabin is the owner’s private residence, though it doesn’t give any information about him. When I look at his

profile picture, it’s just the back of a guy’s head looking out over a ravine. His dirty blond hair is long enough that it brushes the bottom of his thick neck.

The rooms look spacious but quaint. As I scroll through again, I notice that

the bathroom mirror caught a reflection of the person taking the photo. I can see a man from mid-chest down standing off to the side. He’s dressed in black jeans

and a flannel shirt that has the sleeves rolled up—showing one muscular forearm. I wish I could see more of him, I think to myself as I pinch the image to zoom in.

Gen’s words from the last year of my life echo in my head: “You need to stop

neglecting the lady downstairs and get laid!” I always brushed off the idea, reminding her that I didn’t have time or energy for anyone else in my life.

In truth, getting laid, or any sort of romantic feelings or inclinations, have been so far removed from my brain for the last six years that I’ll be surprised if I ever learn to ride that bike again. Not that I ever really, fully rode that bike.

I’d messed around with my college boyfriends but have yet to go all the way.

No one knows that little fact. It’s not like I’ve run around shouting from the rooftops that I’m a 27-year-old virgin. Once in a while, I’d let myself fantasize about finding the one and having a few kids of my own, but then guilt would creep in and I’d shove those thoughts aside.

It was like I’d convinced myself I was betraying my mother by wishing for a

different life. In truth, that’s one of the things my mom always talked about since her diagnosis: hoping I’d find someone to love me and give me my own family.

I close the laptop, pour myself a hefty glass of wine, and settle back into the

couch. I mentally count down the days till I can pack up what life I have left and get the hell out of here. Tomorrow I’ll start selling off most of my possessions and working with a realtor to list the house.

ONE

QUINN

PRESENT DAY . . .

I blink back the tears that threaten to trickle down my cheeks as I look around

the small two-bedroom house that had been my childhood home. It looks

smaller somehow with everything gone. I was able to sell most of the furniture

and decor on Craigslist, the new buyer requested to keep the appliances, and the

rest I donated.

I lean my head against the doorframe that leads into the small kitchen, remembering all the times my mom would pull up a chair for me to stand on so I

could help her cook or wash the dishes. In reality, I was probably more of a headache than a help, but my mom never once complained.

The house is modest, just over 1,100 square feet, but it was more than enough room for us and my tabby, Bella Sue, who passed away a few years ago.

My mom could have afforded a bigger place, but her priority was on saving as

much money as we could for my future, something I didn’t know about until she

got sick and we needed the money for her endless doctors’ appointments and treatments. Between her health insurance and savings, she was able to receive home health care the last several months of her life.

“You sure about this?” Gen asks as she walks up beside me. She’s been helping me get the last of my stuff packed up in my 10-year-old Honda Civic and clean the house. “Livy is out back picking flowers—something she insisted

on doing for the new owners.” She motions with her head toward the window that leads to the backyard.

“Yeah. Just reminiscing a little before I officially surrender the keys.”

“What’s on your mind?” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the other side of the doorframe.

I laugh a little. “One of my favorite stories my mom would tell me was the

moment I learned to walk right here in this living room. You weren’t even born

yet,” I say, bumping Gen’s shoulder.

“Mom was on the phone with Dad for probably the fifth time that month, listening to another one of his 10,000 excuses as to why he’d be a little short on child support.” The truth is, he never paid on time or even close to what the courts told him he owed, but my mom was tired of fighting him for it. “She said

she was crying on the phone listening to his bullshit and feeling like once again, she’d let me down.”

Gen shakes her head and rolls her eyes, probably remembering my dad’s

behavior when we were kids. She met him once or twice when he’d pop into my

life, but mostly, she was there to comfort me when he’d fail to show up again.

“Looking back now, I’m sure they were tears of frustration and

disappointment with how her life had turned out. I get it. But she said the moment I pulled myself up on the coffee table and took two steps toward her, everything else faded away. She hung up the phone and picked me up. She said

the look of pride and happiness on my chubby little face in that moment was all

that mattered. She didn’t even tell my dad before hanging up on him. When I asked her why she didn’t tell him, said she didn’t want to share that moment with anyone but me. It was our precious moment that nobody else could take from us.” I try to hold back a tear, but it escapes and starts trickling down my cheek.

“Your dad was basically a sperm donor who made his deposit and showed up

a few times a year to meet the bare minimum requirements for not being a complete deadbeat piece of shit,” Gen replies, causing me to giggle through the

tears. “And he ended up being a deadbeat piece of shit anyway.”

“That’s for damn sure. Mom said it was sexy and rebellious that he was a musician when they first met. He was part of the counterculture that was sticking it to the man, as he liked to say, so he didn’t get stressed and bogged down by things like 9-to-5 jobs or securing health insurance— things adults should care

about. She was blinded by love, but the moment she found out she was pregnant,

their happily ever after went out the window.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that kind of shitty disappointment, Quinn.

I wish so badly you could’ve had a dad like mine,” Gen says, wrapping her arms

around me.

“Your dad is amazing and he always went above and beyond to make sure I

felt accepted and like I was his second daughter,” I reply.

“So what was it that finally made your mom leave him? I know it was before

I was born, but I don’t think I ever asked you or her that. Felt a little personal.”

“Well, it was after he gave her chlamydia for the third time that she officially

kicked him out,” I say, shaking my head and letting out a long sigh.

“Jesus, his shittiness truly knows no bounds. I swear, if I ever see that cocksucker around town, I’m going to kick him right in the balls as hard as I can, and when he’s crying on the ground, I’ll snap a pic and send it to you.” We both

burst out laughing. Leave it to Gen to bring violence into the situation.

“Okay, I’m going to take Livy to my parents for their weekly Scrabble tournament and let you have a moment here to say goodbye. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I take one last glance around the house before letting out the breath I’d been

holding. I shut the door and lock it, making my way toward my packed car. I had

the pleasure of spending the last 27 years in this little Idaho house, and now it’s time for a new family to make their own memories here.

AFTER A MILLION HUGS and assurances of “I promise to call,” I head out on

the 12-hour drive to Grand Lake, Colorado. Gen tried multiple times to convince

me to stay in Meridian, Idaho, but I told her it was something I needed to do, and it was just for three months. What I didn’t tell her, or anyone, is that I really don’t have any intentions of moving back here . . . ever. I’ll happily come visit, but it’s time for my own adventures. I feel a little like Belle in Beauty and the

Beast searching for that “great wide somewhere.”

The drive is uneventful. I stop only to fuel up, grab a snack, and use the restroom. I’m anxious to get to the cabin, and I hope the owner is still awake. It’s nearing 10:30 p.m. when I arrive. It’s ink black, and only the light from the moon and one lone lamppost show me the way down Sunshine Lane. Such a cute and cheery street name—an omen, I hope, for how my time here will go.

I creep slowly up the drive, and the crunch of gravel beneath my tires seems

to echo off the mountainside. I drive even more slowly, as if that’ll dampen the

sound at all. I squint toward the front door and then back at my phone, double-

checking the address as I put the car in park and turn off the ignition.

The night air is crisp and cool, and I take in a deep breath as I stretch out my

achy muscles. The stars are incredible in the darkness—like millions of tiny diamonds against the velvet sky. I extend my arms overhead as I walk around to

the trunk to grab my luggage. I notice a tinge of a headache and that I feel slightly winded and dizzy just from pulling my suitcase out of the car.

“Whoa.” I reach out and steady myself against the trunk.

I make my way toward the front door, noticing the telltale blue glow of a television through the curtains. The rest of the cabin looks dark. I pull out my phone to now triple-check the address, afraid to knock on a random person’s house this late and startle them. That’s when I see a message I missed earlier:

Miss Prescott,

Please let me know what time you’ll be arriving. I’ll make sure the

key to your private entrance around the back of the house will be

hanging on the light next to the door.

—Sawyer

“SHIT!” I say right as the front door swings open and an imposing figure fills the entire doorframe. In my excitement, I stumble backward and fall square on my

ass on the hardwood slats of the porch. A sharp, stinging pain radiates up my spine. Talk about making a first impression.

“Ouch. Hi . . . hey, sorry, I’m Quinn.” I scramble to my feet, trying not to wince as I thrust my hand toward the man I assume is Sawyer. He just stands there before reaching out his hand and helping me finish righting myself. “You

—you’re Sawyer? Is this the right . . . ? This an Airbnb?” My voice hitches and

I’ve suddenly lost the ability to form complete sentences or thoughts. “I’m so sorry. I completely missed your message from earlier. I literally just checked my phone and saw it. I was driving all day from Idaho. The GPS said it would be about 12 hours, but I hit some traffic and then with all the stops—” His stature

has clearly rattled my nerves and I’m doing a shit job of trying to act cool about it. Not to mention the spark I felt when his huge, rough hand engulfed my own.

“Yup. Your entrance is that way,” he says, pointing to the right and cutting off my rambling nonsense.

“Right. The key is on—” I start, but he walks out of his house without another word. Instead, he heads toward where he just pointed. He doesn’t tell me

to follow him or look back to make sure I am, but I assume I’m supposed to. I

scurry after him in the dark, dragging my suitcase and hoping I don’t tumble down the small set of stairs.

We walk silently around the house and down a few stairs to a massive balcony. I notice he’s only in socks, and just as I’m wondering what he was watching before I interrupted his evening, he stops and I run smack dab into the

middle of his backside.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

I stumble backward. My God, have I completely forgotten how to act like a

human? What the hell? He doesn’t even acknowledge my mishap and instead gives me the same instructions that were written in the message he’d sent hours

earlier.

Even though I’ve taken a few steps back, his scent lingers. He smells like one of those manly scented candles from Bath & Body Works: woodsy with a touch of musk. Of course he does. Why wouldn’t a brooding mountain man—

with a perfect jaw and a chest so wide that if Rose had fallen for him in Titanic,

she could’ve stayed afloat on him—smell delicious and sexy at 11 at night?

“This is your space and your entrance. The key is here,” he says, grabbing a

key that’s hanging by a leather strap from the bottom of the outdoor sconce. He

puts the key in the door and opens it, reaching in to flick on a light.

“You don’t have to lock the place up when you’re here or not here. Up to you. Nobody up here will take anything.”

His voice is deep and gravelly, like he’s been gargling with rocks. He stands

in the doorway for a minute, one hand on the frame as I duck beneath his arm to

enter the cabin myself. I get another deep inhale of his scent and instantly blush at my cat-in-heat-like behavior.

“Thank you so much, and again, I’m so sorry.”

I turn to face him after I’ve stepped inside. The light from the cabin illuminates his face and my breath catches in my throat. His dirty blond hair has fallen down over one eye and his closely cropped beard accentuates his angular

jaw. I can see a small patch of the same dirty blond-colored hair at the base of

his neck, where his flannel shirt is open. Something comes over me and I apparently decide that right now, in the darkness, after I’ve interrupted his evening and made a complete ass of myself, is a good time to make small talk.

“So, have you always lived here or . . . ?” I can see the somewhat annoyed

look on his face combined with what looks like a slight flash of amusement.

“Night, Miss Prescott,” he says with a smirk before turning around and walking back toward his part of the cabin.

Yup, nailed that introduction.

I shut the door and give my nerves a minute to settle down before I pull out

my phone and send a text to Gen to let her know I’ve made it safely to the cabin.

ME

Hey, Gen, made it to the cabin. I’m just going to wash off and crawl

into bed. So exhausted! XoXo

She sends back a thumbs-up and a kissing emoji. I’m tempted to tell her about Sawyer, but I save the rundown of my embarrassing behavior for another

day. After a quick shower, I settle in for the night and head to bed with images of

Sawyer Archer’s icy blue eyes in my head.

TWO

SAWYER

The moment I heard the ruckus on the front porch, I knew Miss Prescott

hadn’t received the message I’d sent earlier, or if she had, she hadn’t extended the courtesy of responding with the details I’d asked for. What I didn’t expect was to find a small, almost ethereal-looking creature on her ass staring up at me with big blue doe eyes illuminated by the porch light. She looked helpless, and I clearly made her nervous given the way she was stumbling all over her words and feet.

Sitting back in my recliner, I’m realizing I was a dick for not offering to help

her carry her bags in, but I was thrown off after being woken up, and if I’m honest, her damn pouty lips had my brain fucked up. Most nights I have the same routine: eat dinner then drink whiskey in front of the television until I fall asleep in my recliner. It’s pathetic but it’s safe.

I go to my room and strip out of my jeans and flannel before crawling between the cool sheets. I’m hopeful I’ll fall asleep quickly, but just like every other night I try to rest in this bed, sleep eludes me. It doesn’t help that I heard my ex-wife has been spotted back in town. Just what I need—that fuckin’ drama

back in my life.

I haven’t spoken to her since the day our divorce was finalized. She made it

clear we were over when I walked in and found her fucking my best friend, Tanner, in this very bed. Why did I keep it and still sleep in it? Fuck if I know.

Then when the divorce was actually finalized a few months later, she had the audacity to scream at me and say I didn’t fight to save our marriage. Damned if I

do, damned if I don’t.

I stare at the ceiling—willing myself to think of anything but that mistake—

when an image of Quinn pops into my head. I just met the woman, don’t know

anything about her, and don’t plan on learning anything about her. A woman like

that only comes to a remote mountain place like this to escape a broken heart. I

know because that’s exactly what I did. I should just tell her now that it doesn’t work. I roll over and close my eyes, wishing away the image of her pale, round

face and plump, pink lips staring back at me.

When I wake the next morning, the sun hasn’t even risen. I groan as I kick

back the covers and make my way to the shower. I turn it on and take a look at

myself in the mirror. My eyes look tired, but my dick is very much awake and

ready for the day.

“Sorry, buddy,” I say, once again ignoring my erection.

The last woman who touched him fucked him over, so to say he doesn’t get a

lot of attention these days is an understatement. I don’t even feel inspired to jerk off anymore.

As soon as the thought of jerking off enters my head, I see Quinn’s face. I almost blush having the thought. I don’t even know the woman and only met her

for two minutes. I step into the shower and let the hot water and steam engulf me, hoping it washes away the guilt I have for being a sick bastard.

By the time I scarf down a few eggs and toast and pour myself a cup of coffee in my thermos, the sun has just broken through the horizon. I step out the front door and pull my keys from my coat. It’s only October in the mountains,

but there’s already a nip in the air in the mornings. That’s the thing about the weather in the mountains: it’s crazy unpredictable.

“Good morning!”

I spin around, startled by the chipper greeting. Quinn just smiles at me. Her

auburn hair falls in a halo of loose waves tumbling down her shoulders and back.

It’s a stark contrast to her ivory skin, and it’s only now I notice a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“Did I startle you? I’m sorry. Just wanted to get a start on the day and experience my first mountain sunrise.”

She has a huge smile on her face as she gestures toward the mountain range

behind us. Way too chipper for this early in the morning.

“Mornin’,” I mumble before turning away and hoping she lets me get into my truck so I can be off on my merry way.

“This place is just . . .” she doesn’t finish the statement and just makes an expression with her eyes wide and her mouth open.

“Yeah, it’s somethin’.”

“Hey, quick question,” she starts.

I take a deep breath and turn back around to face her. “Yup?”

“Could I maybe pick your brain about this place? Not the cabin, but the town? I’d love to really take a deep dive and learn about it.”

She shoves her hands deep into her snug jeans and I can’t help but drag my

eyes the rest of the way down her shapely legs. I’m not sure what her angle is or why she’s so intrigued about it. She can Google it, after all. I’ve got two businesses to run and I’m not one for small talk.

“Ma’am, everything you’ll need is in the binder inside,” I say motioning back toward the house. “Anything else you wanna learn is on the internet. Now, I

need to get to work.” I turn around and wave as I quickly make my way to my

truck and climb in before she can stop me again.

She stands there and waves at me before turning back to face the ravine behind the house—giving me a nice view of her perky little ass. I actually chuckle a little to myself. I can tell from our short interaction that: 1) she doesn’t realize how goddamn beautiful she is, and 2) even if she did, it wouldn’t mean

much to someone like her.

I feel my dick twitch in my jeans and I already know I’m going to be in trouble.

I PARK the truck at my Jeep rental office and make my way inside. The overhead lights are already on and music is pumping through the speakers.

“Morning, boss!” I hear Pearl shout from somewhere in the back. She isn’t a normal employee of mine, but recently, she’s been gracious enough to help me

out here and there until I can hire a new manager. The last kid I hired was eager and a kick-ass worker until he broke both arms and one of his legs in a mountain

biking accident.

“Morning, Pearl.”

She pops out from behind the curtain that separates the offices from the waiting area and hands me a second cup of coffee. She knows me well.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

I’ve told her a million times that she should just take over as manager here

since she doesn’t work full-time anymore at her husband Blake’s cabin rental business, but she insists she isn’t interested.

She takes a seat on the stool behind the counter as I set my coffee and phone

down on my desk.

“What’s with the look?” she asks.

“What look?” I log in to my computer and look at our schedule for the day.

Seems like we have a pretty solid day of not only individual rentals but three full-day tours. A few other guys from town work those for me and don’t really

bother actually coming to the office. They grab the keys, get their Jeeps, and meet at the destination site where Pearl tells everyone to rendezvous.

“I don’t know, but you’ve got a different look today. Your vibe is off.”

She squints her eyes at me curiously and wraps a chunk of hair

absentmindedly around her pointer finger.

“Is this some young millennial talk? Because I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about.”

“Oh, stop acting like you’re a grizzled old man. You’re only a few years older than me. And I hate to break it to you, Mr. Grump-Ass, but you’re technically a millennial too. It’s anyone born from 1980 on.”

“How’s the cabin biz? Thinking of going back to it?” I ask, hoping to avoid

her probing.

“Well, since Blake’s mom retired, I realized how much work it was to do it

all on my own, and I just wasn’t equipped for that. I still help now and then, but

that new marketing guy we hired has been doing a fantastic job. Plus, Blake and I want to . . . you know.”

She wants to say “have kids” or “start a family,” but she’s afraid to bring that

kind of stuff up with me. I hate that everyone in this damn town feels sorry for

me.

I look over my shoulder to meet her gaze. Her shoulders are pulled tight to

her ears and her expression says exactly what I figured. She spins back around

and starts clicking around on the computer in front of her.

“I am very aware that you’re deflecting, Sawyer Archer.” She grabs her coffee, spins off the stool, and walks through the curtain into my office to plop down in the chair across from me.

“We’ve got 32 minutes before our first appointment. Spill.” I see the look of

determination on her face as she tosses her boots up on my desk. She isn’t giving up.

“Just a tenant at my place. She’s a chatterbox and⁠ —”

“She?” Pearl sits at attention. I roll my eyes at her.

“Yes, she. She got in late last night. Staying for a few months.”

“Ohhh, interesting. What’s her story? How old is she?”

Pearl’s already big blue eyes expand as a smile breaks out across her face.

Bless this damn woman, she really does only want me to be happy, but everyone

in this town needs to mind their own damn business.

I let out a long sigh and lean back in my chair. This isn’t the first time Pearl

has gotten a flea up her ass about setting me up with someone. But this is just the first time it’s been one of my tenants . . . and a beautiful woman I already can’t get out of my head. Fuck.

“Well, considering I just met her last night, I don’t know and I plan to keep it

that way. None of my business, Pearl.”

“Hmm, maybe I should stop by the Bean & Bun, pick up some treats, and take up a welcome basket with Jade.” I can see the meddling look on her face as

she talks about her best friend.

“I know what you’re doing, Pearl. She’s young—probably your age. I don’t

know why she’s here, but my guess is she’s fresh off some breakup. A woman

like that doesn’t just book a mountain cabin for no reason. I’m sure she’s got ‘em and I don’t plan on askin’. Now, can we please get back to work or am I paying

you to be a gossip?”

Pearl just shakes her head and stands up before grabbing her coffee and heading back to the front desk just as two rowdy teenage boys walk through the

door with their dad.

“Welcome in, guys! Ready for a kick-ass mountain adventure?” I hear Pearl

say enthusiastically. Her energy has returned as the boys hoot and holler.

After a few hours at the Jeep rental, most of our big tours are under control,

so I tell Pearl I’m heading out for the day and make my way to my custom furniture shop. That’s where I really love to be. No one around to make small talk or get in my way—just me, my tools, and the smell of wood and fresh lacquer.

I’ve been building things since I was a kid. My dad was old school and knew

how to work with his hands, so he passed it down to me. He felt a man should

know how to maintain his own home and provide for his family, which was something he took pride in. When he got sick, I buried myself in all of this. It started out as a hobby—a way to take my mind off things—but it quickly turned

into a very successful custom furniture business.

I work with a couple buddies of mine who own a brewery and a whiskey distillery, Drake and Colton Slade, and supply all the furniture in their tasting rooms over in Virginia Dale. We have a meeting later today in Loveland to discuss a possible business venture together.

As I drive the 20 minutes to my warehouse, an image of Quinn’s bright blue

eyes and pale, freckled skin pop into my head. The thoughts quickly turn from

innocent to imagining those lush lips wrapped around my cock, and I hate myself for being a pig. That sure as hell doesn’t stop me from remembering how

tempting the curve of her hips and round ass looked in those skintight jeans she

was wearing this morning. Why is this woman haunting my every thought? I haven’t been interested in a woman since Justine ripped my heart out, and I had

planned on keeping it that way.

Just thinking about Justine has my stomach in knots. Memories of seeing her

writhe beneath my best friend and moan his name in my bed is something a man doesn’t just get over.

That’s the memory that always keeps me in check—the memory that won’t

let me ever consider falling in love again.

THREE

QUINN

I made sure to set my alarm for 6 a.m. so I could enjoy the sunrise over the

Rocky Mountains. I roll out of bed a little groggy from the altitude, and from

what I’ve read, it may take several weeks or months for me to acclimate.

I make my way to the kitchen and find the coffee maker. I hunt around in the

cabinets until I find grounds and filters, then get things brewing before I head to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, I pull a pair of dark skinny jeans out of my suitcase and shimmy into them. I skip the bra and pull on an old, faded Boise Hawks Minor League Baseball hoodie and slip on my UGGs. Not my finest look, but hey, it keeps me warm and it’s comfortable. I hear the beeping of the coffee pot

signaling it’s ready, and eagerly pour myself a cup.

“Mmm.” I bring the piping-hot liquid to my nose and inhale it for a minute.

Coffee truly is one of my most favorite things. Doesn’t matter what form it’s in

—black, cream and sugar, iced—I’ll drink it. I enjoy a few sips before taking it

out on the balcony and admiring the predawn calm that encapsulates me. I lean

against one of the pillars for a few moments—enjoying my coffee before setting

it on the ledge and walking up the steps to get closer to the edge of the ravine.

The sunrise doesn’t disappoint. The fiery orange glow illuminates the yellow

and red leaves, setting them ablaze. I take in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, holding it in my lungs briefly before slowly exhaling. I’ve been here less than 24 hours, and weirdly, this place feels like it could be home—like I belong

here. I think of John Muir’s famous quote, “The mountains are calling and I

must go.” Even though he was talking about California, it’s perfectly fitting for Colorado.

My thoughts are interrupted by the squeak of the front door opening and the

crunch of the gravel under someone’s footsteps. I spin around to see Sawyer making his way toward his truck.

“Good morning!” I say, offering up a wave. I can tell he’s startled as he turns

around to meet my gaze.

It feels like someone’s kicked me in the chest. The man is an imposing figure, and seeing him in the shadows last night didn’t do him justice at all. His dirty blond hair has a bit of a curl to it at the ends and hangs loosely over the collar of his faded blue Henley. My eyes immediately drop to his thick thighs wrapped in black denim, and that picture I saw on Airbnb of someone’s reflection in the mirror pops in my head. It was definitely him. His large hand dwarfs the thermos he’s holding, which makes me curious about the size of something else. Seriously, Quinn? I silently reprimand myself for so obviously objectifying a complete stranger, but it does little to temper my excited imagination.

I nervously try to make small talk and pick his brain about the town, but I always pick the worst times for these exchanges. He doesn’t seem interested and

I watch as he climbs into his truck and drives away.

After taking in the sunrise, I make my way into the cabin and explore the rooms in the light of day. There are several custom-looking furniture pieces throughout. I run my hand along the smooth edge of the small dinner table near

the kitchen. It’s been stained and lacquered, so there’s no possibility of splinters, but there are varying colors of knots and woodgrain running throughout, lending

to its character. The kitchen is small but has a full oven and microwave, and from the looks of it, most, if not all, of the necessities. The windows are complemented by a set of navy blue curtains, and a wooden moose figurine sits

on the sill above the sink.

I step from room to room with a fresh cup of coffee as I sort out where I want to sit when I write. The bedroom extends into a sitting area where there’s a small desk that’s light enough to move around, so I could even drag it to the

balcony to enjoy the view while I write. The walls are adorned with different mountainscapes, some with herds of what I assume are elk, and one with an eagle perched high atop a tree. They look like they’re enlarged photographs—

maybe a pastime of Sawyer’s?

There’s even a tidy living room area complete with a small sofa and a very

comfortable leather lounger positioned across from a television mounted above a

fireplace. The shelves are mostly bare—a few worn books are stacked on one, with an antique silver frame with a stock photo that probably came with it on another. That reminds me . . . I walk over to my backpack and pull out the small

framed photo I carry with me of my mom holding me, and me holding Bella Sue, and I place it on the table next to the lounger.

I can’t help but think about how much my mom would’ve loved this place. A

small smile spreads across my lips as I picture her sitting on the balcony telling me about that one time she went backpacking with her best friends in college.

They got lost, almost died from a bear encounter, and ended up getting rescued

by a park ranger. While I’m sure it was greatly embellished, she always laughed

so much telling me that story. I’m lost in thought when the shrill ring of my cell phone snaps me back to reality. I grab it off the bedside table and see Gen’s name on the screen.

“Hey, beautiful,” I answer as I step out onto the balcony and pace the length

of it.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s mountain life? Killed a mountain lion with your bare

hands yet?”

I laugh. “Is that what you think Colorado people do?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You are one now, ya know.” I can hear a bit of

sadness in her voice when she says that.

“Well, it’s my first day and I haven’t gone into town yet. I plan to in a little

bit. But . . .” I hesitate, wondering if I should tell her about my first impression of Sawyer.

“What’s that but?” Gen is like a bloodhound; she can sniff out any little hesitation or secret.

“So, the guy who owns this Airbnb is . . .” I let out a sigh. “Wow.”

“Wow? As in . . . ? What’s he look like?”

“He’s probably at least 6’5”, longish dirty blond hair with one of those super-

sexy mountain-man beards, and his eyes . . . oh my God, his eyes. They’re like this icy grayish blue. And I’m pretty sure you could sleep across his chest, it’s so wide!”

“So what you’re saying is you’re going to have a delicious, torrid affair and

let him bang your brains out? Please say yes! I need to live vicariously through

your vagina for a while.”

“Jesus, Gen, no! I don’t even know him. Besides, I feel like he already doesn’t like me. He seems really grumpy.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“Oh, just that I’ve tried to talk a little with him and he seems like one of those standoffish types. Doesn’t want to talk or be bothered at all. Plus, this cabin is way up in the mountains and extremely remote, which tells me he chose

it for a reason.”

“Hmm . . . this doesn’t bode well for you,” she says matter-of-factly.

“What doesn’t?” I ask as I hear her let out an overexaggerated sigh.

“Look, a super-sexy—albeit grumpy—bearded mountain man living in some

remote cabin spells disaster. I’m telling you, a man like that has a story. There’s some tragic, unforgiving reason he’s chosen this remote mountain life, and you’ll only get your heart ripped out.”

I burst into laughter at her response. “You’re really dramatic, you know that?

And what does his beard have to do with any of this?”

“I’m telling you, it’s a tale as old as time. A beard on a man like that is like a woman getting a bob after a breakup. If he isn’t a serial killer seeking anonymity and ducking the Feds in the Rocky Mountains, then he’s damaged goods. He probably had a family that was tragically taken from him—or even worse, murdered by his enemies right in front of him and he wasn’t able to protect them. Seen it a hundred times.”

“In what? A Liam Neeson movie?” I’m practically rolling on the floor at this

point. “Girl, I’m telling you for the millionth time, you should have been the writer with that imagination.”

We catch up for a few more minutes, and just before we hang up, I tell her I’m going to send her some photos and videos of the cabin and scenery.

“Give Livy my love and lots of hugs and kisses, and tell your parents I said

hi.”

“Thanks, Quinn. I just want you to know that I’m happy you’re living for yourself, even if I’ll tell you all the time that I miss you and wish you were back here. I’m happy for you.”

My chest tightens a little and I choke back a tear. “I know, Gen, and I appreciate it. And don’t be too sad. I’ll be home for Christmas,” I say even though I haven’t really thought about the holidays and what I plan to do yet.

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” I say before we exchange goodbyes and hang up.

I head back inside to finish unpacking before grabbing the folder Sawyer referenced earlier and flipping it open to find a local grocery store and somewhere I can grab a latte. After I finish unpacking my things and find a local bakery and market, I grab my keys and purse and make my way into town to grab a few things and some supplies to make Sawyer some muffins. Hopefully

they’ll help him open up a little.

As I drive down the winding mountain roads into town, I hit the button and

my windows slide down, allowing the smell of the Aspen trees to permeate the

interior of the car. Taylor Swift’s “August” plays on the radio, so I lean forward and turn it up as I take in the serenity this place gives me.

An adorable bakery catches my eye as I drive slowly down Main Street. The

Bean & Bun has beautiful bright-teal awnings and large picture windows decorated with tissue-paper ghosts strung from yarn, and large white pumpkins

with black cats and famous scary monsters drawn on them in black marker.

I park my car and step inside, a bell ringing on the front door overhead as I

step through. The sweet smell of cinnamon and confectioners’ sugar hits me instantly, and my stomach rumbles.

“Hey there, I’ll be right with you,” I hear a woman’s voice say.

I step up to the display cases and take in all the beautiful pastries and cupcakes that stare back at me. Each one looks so appetizing, I could seriously

do some damage in a place like this. Before the cancer completely destroyed her, my mom and I used to get pastries from our favorite bakery every Sunday and

take them to the Boise River, where we’d sit on the walkway and just enjoy a lazy morning together.

“Be careful or all this will end up on your ass and thighs in two seconds flat.”

I snort a small laugh as I turn to look at the tall blonde next to me. She’s wearing a navy blue pantsuit and her shiny hair is pulled back in a neatly styled chignon.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but it doesn’t look like it’s stuck around on

you.” I gesture to her lean frame. “I’m just trying to decide if I want instant diabetes or the slow burn of high cholesterol,” I say.

“Well, either one you choose, it’s a delicious journey. I only allow myself one treat a week, and the rest of the time it’s strictly coffee,” she replies, lifting her cup toward me.

“Probably a good idea. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“You visiting for the season?” she asks as the lady behind the counter sets a

large white box on the countertop.

“Here you go, Willow,” she says as she steps toward the register.

“That obvious I’m new in town?” I ask.

She hands her credit card to the lady, “Nah, but in a town this size, all the residents know each other, so we always know who’s visiting.”

“I’ve rented a cabin up in the mountains for the next three months, so you’ll

probably see me around quite a bit. I’m Quinn, by the way.” I motion for the lady in line behind me to step up ahead of me so I can finish my conversation with Willow.

“I’m Willow, as you heard. I’m guessing you’re renting from Sawyer

Archer?”

“Yeah, just up the mountain.” I’m curious about the way she said his name.

“Three months living with Sawyer, Lord bless you,” she says quickly and almost under her breath. “Well, you’ll be in town for our annual Fall Festival if you’re looking for some social activities. It’s nothing crazy, but it’s a fun time.

There’s a parade, a corn maze, a pumpkin carving contest, and a barn dance.

Yeah, barn dance,” she says, laughing a little when she sees me arch my eyebrows. “That’s mountain-town life.”

“It all sounds really amazing, actually. I’d love to go.”

She reaches into her wallet, pulls out her business card, and hands it to me.

“That has my personal cell on it, so just text me anytime. Even if you just want

to hang out or need a local guide. Or hey, if you need a loan. I’m a loan officer over here at the local bank. Speaking of . . .” she grabs the big white box off the counter and glances at her watch, “got to keep the big boys happy and full. But

seriously, text me. It was great meeting you, Quinn.” She gives me a big smile

before thanking the woman behind the counter and scurrying out the front door.

I turn around and see the petite, raven-haired lady smiling back at me. “Did

you decide on something, hon?” she asks.

“I’ll take a country peach hand pie and a vanilla latte, please.”

“I heard you telling Willow you’re new in town, so welcome! I’m Violet, and

I own the bakery.”

Everyone here is so friendly and welcoming—everyone but Sawyer, it

seems. “This place is just adorable and the smell is divine!” I reply.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” she laughs. She hands me the hand pie and turns around to make my drink.

“So what brings you to Grand Lake?” she asks over the whistle of the steaming milk.

“Oh, just wanted a change of scenery and some inspiration, I’m writing a book.” I don’t yet feel super-comfortable opening up to strangers about my mom.

“A book? That’s exciting. I hope you can find plenty of inspiration here. I know I love every second of this place. Just something about the mountain air,”

she says, handing me my drink and wiping her hands on the front of her pink-striped apron.

I came here to be inspired by the town, but I find myself wondering more and more about Sawyer and his story. Is he broken and tormented like Gen suggested? I smile, thanking her and paying for my items before heading out to

walk down the street and check out all the shops on my way to the grocery store.

As I exit and make my way down the street, I see a tall man walking out of a

business and getting into a lifted black truck: Sawyer’s truck, which I saw him

getting into this morning. He turns and his gaze meets mine. It is Sawyer, and my stomach clenches at the sight of him. I see him nod slightly before pulling himself up into the truck, firing it up, and pulling out of the parking lot.

I glance up at the name of the business: Grand Lake Jeep Rental. That must

be where he works. I’m tempted to go inside and check it out, but realize that might be a tad creepy if it gets back to him that I was scoping out his business.

Instead, I enjoy my peach hand pie and latte and make my way to the grocery

store. It’s small inside but curated with plenty of amazing local and fine foods. I grab a basket and make my way toward the baking aisle. This place is small, but

it has all of the things I’ll need to make blueberry muffins for Sawyer.

Once I gather my ingredients, I realize that I should offer to make him dinner. I pick up some fresh salmon, salad greens, asparagus, potatoes, and a hunk of cracked peppercorn goat cheese that looks delicious. I pick up a few necessities for myself—mostly snacks and food staples so I’m not up and down

the mountain every day just to eat.

I pay for my things and make my way back toward my car—a little giddy thinking about cooking dinner for Sawyer. The words Willow said earlier come

flooding back and I flinch. Was she his ex? I realize I know nothing about this

man, but something intangible seems to be pulling me toward him, and I know

that if given the chance, I’d do exactly what Gen said earlier . . . have a delicious, torrid affair and let him bang my brains out.

FOUR

SAWYER

I glance at the clock hanging in my workshop and realize I need to leave in a

few minutes to get to my meeting with the Slade brothers in Loveland.

We’ve been in talks for the better part of a year about opening up a restaurant

together. I’d mostly be a financial backer as well providing all of the custom furniture for the dining area. Drake and Colton would manage the food and beverage side of things.

I wipe down my workstation, put my tools away, and head out to my truck.

The drive to Loveland is a little over two hours, so I put on some Willie Nelson

and crack my window to enjoy the autumn air. I barely get five minutes of peace

before Quinn’s smile pops in my head. The way she waved at me timidly as I climbed in my truck replays in my head. I should have said something instead of

ignoring her.

Fuck me.

I don’t know how old she is, but she looks young . . . too young for me. As

much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, I’m curious about her story. I already know that once she’s spotted around town, it’ll only be a matter of time before

the local douchebags sniff her out. I make a mental note to make sure Will, the

bartender over at The Place, our local diner, keeps his fucking hands off of her.

“She’s not your fuckin’ problem, Sawyer,” I say to myself, but it doesn’t work. The thought of seeing some of the locals hitting on her has me gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.

By the time I pull up to the vacant building we’re looking at today, I’m in a

pissed-off mood.

I’m pissed that I can’t stop thinking about this damn woman I don’t even know.

Pissed that I care about her.

Pissed that I want her.

“Hey, man,” Colton says, extending his hand to me as I approach the

brothers. Drake is speaking to the realtor about how the town is planning to fix

the broken sidewalk in front of the building.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to pretend I’m not as frustrated as a caged cat in heat.

“Justine?” he asks.

“What?”

“Is it Justine?” he repeats.

I’m confused. “Is Justine what?”

“Christ, man, is Justine the reason you’re in a mood?” Colton says, a little exasperated, just as Drake walks over to us.

“Sawyer’s in a mood?” he smirks.

“No, I’m not in a mood.” I kick at the broken sidewalk pieces at my feet.

“You’re standing like someone has their hand up your ass working you like a

puppet.”

Colton laughs at Drake’s comment and slaps him on the back. But I’m not in

the mood to explain this shit.

“Are we doing this or not?” I say, gesturing to the realtor who’s waiting for

us by the front door.

We spend the next hour walking through the vacant building we’re

considering for the restaurant.

“As you gentlemen can see, it’s turnkey in the sense that no major

renovations are needed. You have your designated dining and kitchen space already, and the electrical and plumbing completely passed code, which is usually a big money pit.”

We walk around the place. The previous owners were only here for a short time and left it in great condition. We would need to completely redesign the seating layout and the bar area, but I imagine it’s something that could be

knocked out in a month, then pretty soon, we’d be giving other bars and restaurants like Door 222 and Origins a run for their money.

The realtor finishes walking us through everything and says he’s going to step out to take a call and let us discuss things on our own. Within 15 seconds,

both Drake and Colton are cornering me again.

“What’s this about Justine?” Drake asks.

“Ask your idiot brother. He’s the one who brought her up.”

“I was just asking if she’s the reason you’re acting like a dick today.” Colton

flashes me a big grin. I know they’re just teasing me, but I’m really not in the mood.

“It’s not Justine!” I shout as I walk back toward the kitchen to get away from

them. It’s no use. They both follow me and stand there staring at me until I give them something.

“It’s my new tenant. She . . . I don’t know her, but fuck me, I can’t get her

out of my head.” I’m not sure why, but I let my guard down for a minute. I don’t

tend to share my feelings, but Drake and Colton know me better than anyone, and hell, maybe I do want to talk about it with someone.

Drake crosses his arms and leans back against one of the counters with a smirk on his face while Colton hops up on the counter itself. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Go on.”

“Not much to say. I don’t know her, and I’ve barely talked to her.”

“Oh, come on, man, you can’t set it up like that then not deliver. What’s your

plan?” Drake asks.

“My plan?”

“Yeah, your plan. You going to ask her out?”

I knew this was a mistake. These idiots think it’s more than it is. “Nope. Not

my circus, not my monkeys.”

“The classic evasive Sawyer response. You know, someday you’re going to

want a circus full of monkeys.” Drake pushes off the counter and puts his hand

on my shoulder.

Here it comes, the old we’re so happy with our wives and kids speech.

“Look, Sawyer, I know you’ve been through the shit the last few years, but

I’m telling you, there’s more to life than fly fishing and drinking whiskey until you pass out at night. If you like the woman, just give it a shot. She’s not here permanently, so what bad could really come of it?”

He has a point. She’s here for three months, and I’ve already booked the place for the six months after that, so it’s not like she could stay longer even if she wanted to. But I kick the thought out of my head just as quickly as it entered.

I don’t need to be thinking with my dick right now.

“You guys think we should make an offer on the place or what?” I ask, ignoring their stares. They both shake their heads and follow me as I walk outside.

“I feel good about the place, so I’m ready to get things moving.” Colton looks to Drake, who agrees. We shake hands and call the realtor over to talk numbers.

IT’S NEARING dusk when I pull back into my driveway. I glance at the clock,

and it’s just past 6 p.m. The headlights of my truck pan across the front of the house and illuminate a small figure sitting on the bench by my front door. My chest tightens when I see Quinn stand up with a basket in her hands and a timid

grin on her face. She has that orange hoodie on again and the furry boots from

earlier. I kill the engine and sit for a brief second as our eyes linger. I grab my thermos, step out of the truck, and make my way toward her.

“Evening. You need something?”

“Hey there, I um . . . well, I made you some muffins.” She thrusts the basket

toward me.

“Thank you?” I say, a little confused.

“I hope you like blueberry. I was going to make banana nut, but then I realized I didn’t know if you had a nut allergy or something. Those are nut-free.

No nuts were harmed in the making of those muffins,” she says with a nervous

laugh, then her face turns a slight shade of pink when she realizes the innuendo.

I’m not sure what to say since I’ve already thanked her, so I step around her to open my front door. Before I can step inside, she spins around and stops me.

“Actually, I was hoping I could make you dinner?” Her voice goes up a few

octaves at the end, like she’s unsure of herself.

“Why?”

“Just, ya know, to say thank you for letting me stay here I guess.”

“Well, you booked it and paid for it, so I’m not really doing you a favor.” I

see her expression fall as I realize that sounded harsher than I meant it. A pang of guilt hits me and I backtrack.

“But, um, I guess that would be fine.”

“Great!” Her smile is back and she rubs her hands together giddily. “I’ll go

grab the stuff and be right back.” She turns and scampers down the stairs to the

lower level.

God-fucking-dammit.

I don’t want this damn woman in my house. I don’t want her permeating my

personal space . . . even though she’s already set up camp in my head.

“Great,” I mumble to myself as I make my way inside and flick on the lights.

I have the sudden panic of realizing a woman is about to be in my home, so I look around to make sure it’s not too much of a shit show. I’m a clean and tidy

guy, but I’m still lazy sometimes. I throw the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the counter before making sure there aren’t any dirty glasses or empty beer bottles hanging around the living room.

A few moments later, she’s knocking on the front door I left standing ajar, then stepping through the entryway. I glance over my shoulder and see her standing there with another basket in her hands, looking around the room in her

oversized hoodie. She looks like Little Red Riding Hood, sweet and innocent.

Very fitting considering I’m the big bad wolf who has to keep talking himself out of devouring her.

I push the thought from my head before it can take on a life of its own and

snowball into something that has my dick reminding me that it hasn’t been touched in forever.

“Kitchen is right there.” I point and she scurries over after slipping off her

boots by the front door. “You want something to drink?” I ask as I pour myself a tumbler of Slade Whiskey. It’s their newest batch and it’s smooth as hell. It has hints of vanilla and smoky maple, two of my favorite flavors. The moment it hits

my tongue and I savor the burn, I wonder what Quinn would taste like.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you’re having,” she says. I grab a glass and pour her

some as I force the thought from my head. “Oh, do you like salmon?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m making.”

I just nod as I walk over to her and hand over the glass. Her fingers graze mine as she reaches for the tumbler. She tilts her pointed chin upward so her eyes meet mine, and it’s the first time we’ve been eye-to-eye. I can feel my pulse quicken. My heart feels like a galloping horse and I swallow hard. She smiles sweetly and brings the glass to her full lips before pulling it back.

“We have to toast,” she says. I blink a few times before what she says registers, and I step back to my glass to fill it back up.

I don’t say anything as I walk back over to her, unsure of why I once again

allow myself to get this close to her. She smells like vanilla, just like the whiskey, and I can feel my jaw clench as I salivate.

“To three months of being roomies.” She lifts her glass and clinks it softly against mine.

Roomies? She thinks we’re fucking roommates?

I give a slight head nod and am about to take a swig when she grabs my wrist

and stops me. It feels like her hand is about to burn through my skin and my eyes dart to hers.

“You have to keep eye contact or it’s bad luck,” she says with a serious look

on her face before repeating the toast again and gently tapping my glass with hers. This time, I keep my eyes trained on hers as I down the entire glass. I savor the burn as I watch her little pink tongue dart out and lick a drop of the amber

liquid off her lip.

I groan inwardly. What I wouldn’t give to see her do that to my cock, which

is now straining against the fly of my jeans. I quickly turn away and set my glass on the table next to the couch.

“I need to wash up.” I don’t bother waiting for her to respond as I walk to the

bathroom to get away from her.

I turn the shower faucet all the way to hot, but I don’t wait for the water to

warm before I step in and blast myself with cold water. It does nothing to tamper my raging hard-on. I place one hand on the shower wall and the other around the

base of my cock. I pump my hand once, then twice—slowly at first. I will myself

to stop, but I can’t.

I continue to stroke myself faster and faster, my breath becoming more rapid

as I picture Quinn’s sweet mouth wrapped around me. That thought has me coming undone in a matter of seconds. I grunt as I spill myself on the tile before hanging my head in shame.

I’m a sick fuck.

I quickly dry off and get dressed before making my way back to the living room. I grab my tumbler off the table and pour myself another glass of whiskey

as I watch her.

I hate the way she moves around my kitchen with ease.

I hate even more how much I enjoy watching her in my personal space.

She hums a little tune to herself as she flips the salmon over in the pan. It smells fantastic. God knows, my kitchen hasn’t seen anything more than frozen

pizza and toast and eggs over the last two years. I glance around and notice the

kitchen table has been cleared off. My stack of mail and random odds and ends

have been replaced with a big bowl of salad, some crackers and cheese, and proper place settings. I didn’t even know I still had dishes.

“Oh, hey, just in time. I was about to plate this up.” She spins around to greet

me with the pan and a spatula. She walks over and slowly lays a plank of salmon

on each plate along with some roasted potatoes and asparagus.

“This looks great, thank you.” We both take a seat and start to eat. It’s silent

for a moment, but it’s quickly broken by Quinn’s nervous chatter.

“So, what do you like to do on weekends?” She takes a delicate bite of the

salmon and I see her eyes light up.

“Whatever I need to get done around here, I suppose.” I hate that I can’t seem to talk to her, but I’m too distracted by the little moans she makes with each bite. I realize I should say something nice about the food, so I go with,

“This is good.” God, I sound like a Neanderthal.

The silence is back and hangs between us as we finish up our food. Don’t ask

me why, but the fact that she’s an amazing cook makes me dislike her even more. Does she have to be perfect?

“Fishing.”

“Hmm?” She raises her brows at me.

“I like to fish on the weekends.” I stand and gather our plates before turning

to the sink. She stands too and begins to put things away and clean up. “I got it,”

I say as I take the rest of the dirty dishes from her and place them in the sink.

“Oh, that sounds interesting. I’ve never been fishing before. I assume you go

in Grand Lake?”

I don’t tell her this, but hell no. That’s where all the tourist and nosy-ass locals go. “I fly fish, so I hit up the river back there,” I say, thumbing at the ravine behind my cabin.

She’s standing with her back to the counter, glancing sideways at the sink full of dishes. “Are you going to rinse those and put them in the dishwasher?”

Before I can reply, she flicks on the faucet and proceeds to do just that. “Why don’t you make us some coffee for the muffins?” she says. “This will just take a

minute. My mom always said, ‘If you don’t do the dishes right away, you’ll just

end up with a bigger mess later.’”

Goddammit, I just want this woman to leave my house so I can be a

miserable bastard in peace. But at the same time, I don’t want her to leave.

I fill up the coffee maker and turn it on before grabbing two plates for the muffins.

“This is my mom’s famous muffin recipe.” She finishes up putting the dishes

in the dishwasher before turning around to face me. “The trick is, you want the

muffins to be moist with just a touch of sweetness—not overly so—and you have to use fresh blueberries so they kind of burst when you eat them. It’s like an explosion of flavor in your mouth.”

Jesus Christ, this woman is going to kill me. Does she realize what she’s saying? Is she torturing me on purpose? It takes everything I have not to tell her that I’d like nothing more than to her eat her sweet, moist muffin before giving

her an explosion of flavor so deep in her mouth it’ll run down her throat.

FIVE

QUINN

Being this close to Sawyer Archer has my head spinning. I try my best to

play it cool, but I can hear myself nervously chattering on about God-knows-what. I’m thoroughly shocked he actually let me inside, let alone cook for

him.

When he heads to the shower, I glance around the living room as I set the table and let the salmon finish cooking. I don’t see a lot of personal touches or knickknacks. There are two small picture frames on the mantle and I step closer

to see them. One is a picture of a couple, and looks to have been taken probably

30 years ago, and the other is a picture of a large group of people. Looks like a family photo, with several couples and small children all posed on a farm.

I hear the shower shut off, so I make my way back to the kitchen so he doesn’t feel like I’m snooping around his home. His part of the cabin is decorated in a similar fashion as the lower level, with a lot of darker woods and jewel tones with touches of hand-carved animals and custom wood pieces. I make a mental note to ask him who makes the furniture. My back is toward him

when I hear him ask me if I want something to drink, which I gladly accept, hoping it calms my nerves.

As nervous as I am with him standing so close to me, I almost find comfort

in his presence. I can smell the shampoo from his still-wet hair as he hands me a glass of whiskey.

When I reached out and grabbed his wrist, I saw a flash of something in his

eyes. I thought it was anger at first, but the way his eyes slowly traveled from

mine to my lips had me squeezing my thighs together. I nervously darted my tongue out to catch a stray drop of whiskey, which caused his jaw to flex. In that brief moment, it almost felt like there was something between us—like I could

feel the heat radiating off his body.

Getting him to talk is a bit like pulling teeth, but I don’t hesitate to fill the void. I’m a nervous talker and a nervous laugher, and growing up, my mom used

to tease me about it. Actually, most people did. I love a good story and I love to make small talk, so I guess that’s why I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I just

love words.

After dinner, I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but I want to see his face

when he tries my muffins. I know it’s silly, but cooking and baking are things I’ve come to love doing for people. Maybe it’s my love language, or perhaps I’ve been conditioned to care for people like I did my dying mother. I watch as

he takes a bite of the muffin, licking the crumbs off his lips and wiping them out of his beard. Suddenly, all I can think about is what it would feel like to have that beard between my thighs and that tongue on my you-know-what. I feel my face

flush just as he makes eye contact with me and I feel like I’m about to turn into a puddle on the floor. I swear he can read my mind, because the look of pure lust

in his eyes tells me that I think he might be having the same thoughts.

“How do you—is it?” My words catch in my throat and my tongue feels

thick. He finishes the muffin in two bites before reaching for another. He doesn’t respond to my jumbled question, and instead slowly peels the paper off the muffin like he’s undressing it, which causes a deep pull in my core. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second, and I’m mortified.

How can someone make eating a muffin look so damn sexual? I’m pretty

sure if he so much as stepped toward me right now, I’d come on the spot. I rub

the back of my neck and gesture toward the pot of coffee that’s beeping.

“You know, it’s actually pretty late for me to drink caffeine, so I should probably . . .” I don’t finish the sentence. I just gesture awkwardly toward the front door. I step toward the entrance, cutting him off on accident just as he steps forward. He’s practically standing on top of me.

“You sure? It’s decaf,” he says, his chest practically pressing against my

shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks. I don’t want to take up any more of your evening anyway.” I

move farther away and slip on my boots. “I hope you lick my muffin. LIKE. I hope you like my muffins,” I correct myself. “Your muffins. I hope you like the muffins I made for you,” I stammer as I reach for the front door.

He doesn’t move as he watches me make a complete idiot of myself, but I see a smirk spread across his face as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I plan on licking and liking your muffin.”

I pull open the door and step outside into the cool night air before slamming

it shut and letting out a whooshing breath. I groan in embarrassment as I run back down to the safety of the ground floor.

I’M LYING in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, replaying what Sawyer said to

me over and over again. That smirk. “Oh, I plan on licking and liking your muffin.” Did he say muffin or muffins? Did I mishear him? I feel my face grow red with embarrassment all over again and I roll over and groan into the pillow.

I imagine what it would have been like if I hadn’t run out—if he had moved

a little closer and pressed me up against the door. I imagine his large hand slipping behind my neck and pulling me closer into a perfect kiss.

I roll onto my back and slip my hand beneath the covers and down the front

of my pajama pants. I know I shouldn’t, but I do it anyway. I close my eyes and

imagine his tongue delving into my mouth, meeting my own thrust for thrust as

his other hand grabs my ass. I rub my clit over my panties until I feel the wetness pooling again, and I can’t take the torture any longer. I thrust my hand down my

panties as I circle my clit faster and faster. My breathing is rapid as I imagine Sawyer’s hands caressing my naked breasts. I come undone at the thought of his

lips around my nipple as he whispers in my ear all the dirty things he wants to do to me.

I pull my hand out of my panties like I’ve been burned. The only sound in

the darkness is my rapid breathing as I feel guilt wash over my body.

MY EYES POP open before my alarm goes off, a residual result of caring for

my mom. I often woke up at all hours of the night to check on her and medicate

her. I let out a sigh and stare at the ceiling again. I didn’t sleep well last night, but I somehow still feel too amped to be tired. I grab my phone and check the

time: not even 6 a.m. yet.

“Might as well get up,” I mutter as I put on my slippers and walk into the kitchen to brew some coffee. I’m really missing my programmable coffeemaker

right now. Nothing says “good morning” like waking up to the smell of a fresh

pot. I grab my hoodie and pull it on as I shiver and check the thermostat. The morning and evening temperatures here are so drastically different from the midday temperatures—another Colorado thing I’m not yet used to.

The coffee beeps and I grab a mug from the shelf. It has a pot leaf on it with

the words Rocky Mountain High stamped across it. I giggle to myself when I look at it. I pour myself a fresh cup of coffee, adding in some of the maple almond milk creamer I picked up from the grocery store the other day, and take a

long sip.

I take my coffee out to the balcony and breathe in the fresh morning air. I need to start on my novel. I’ve been kicking around a few ideas here and there

and I think I’ve settled on a romance story—a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love story. I imagine a broken man who doesn’t believe he can love again; I’m a sucker for tragic love stories that require you to keep a box of tissues close. And this one just might be inspired by a certain someone.

I hear some shuffling in the driveway and I step off the balcony to see Sawyer loading a large plastic box into the back of his truck along with a fishing pole. The sun is peeking up over the mountains and it casts an amber glow against his face. I take a moment to take him in as he sorts his belongings.

There’s something in his eyes that I’m dying to understand . . . sadness maybe?

Hurt?

He looks up and catches me staring at him. I feel my face heat with embarrassment, but I’m not sure if it’s because he caught me staring or if it’s because I’m worried he knows what I did in bed last night to thoughts of him. I

smile and offer a limp wave. He gives me his signature head nod, but his look

seems softer today and his eyes linger on mine a tad longer.

Suddenly, I get bit of courage and make my way toward him. “Good

morning, Sawyer.”

“Mornin’, Miss Prescott.”

My belly clenches at the sound of his early morning voice, which is deeper

and more gravelly. I imagine what it would be like to wake up to that voice—to

hear that voice whisper delicious, dirty things in my ear.

“Got a favor to ask,” I say.

“What can I do for you?” He turns and leans his shoulder against his truck,

crossing his arms across his massive chest.

I kick at the rocks in the driveway and nervously tuck my hair behind one ear. “Well, I’m working on something, and I need a point of reference for fishing. As I mentioned last night, I’ve never been fishing, so . . .” my words trail off and I look up at him, hoping he’ll catch on to what I’m asking, but he

doesn’t. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it, because his expression hasn’t changed.

“You know what?” I let out a small laugh. “Forget I said anything. I hope you have a nice morning.” I turn to walk away.

“There’s an extra pair of waders on a hook inside that shed.”

I turn around slowly to see him pointing to the right of the house. I try to hold back the grin I can feel spreading across my face.

“You sure?”

He just shakes his head in exasperation. “Go change. I’ll grab the waders.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice, and I practically jog back to the cabin. I frantically pull clothes out of my suitcase until I find a pair of jeans I won’t mind getting dirty, a white tank top, and a sweatshirt to go over it. I look at myself in the mirror, throw on some mascara and lip gloss, then pull my hair up into a high

ponytail. I search frantically through my makeup for my waterproof mascara, hoping to slick on a coat over my regular mascara just in case, but I can’t find it.

I slip on my running shoes and I’m about to dash out the door when I think

about a picnic. I grab the basket off the shelf and look inside. It even has a blanket in it. I throw in the rest of the goat cheese, some crackers, a bag of grapes I bought the other day, and some mini croissants, then head out the door.

When I walk out, Sawyer is standing by the front of the truck. He’s wearing

black jeans today, and I notice how well he fills them out. Not only does he have thick, muscular thighs, but the denim is taught across his backside. Today he’s wearing a gray Henley and he has the sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms.

What is it with men’s forearms? I know I’m not the only woman who can barely

handle them. He looks up when he hears me approaching, and the gray of the shirt matches the blue-gray of his eyes.

“I packed a picnic.” I raise up the basket but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he follows me to the passenger side of the truck and opens the door for

me. Before I hoist myself up, he takes the basket from me and places it on the

seat, pushing it in so it sits in the middle. He turns back around to face me as I grab the handle on the side of the truck and go to step inside. What I didn’t expect was to feel his hands around my waist, helping me inside. It makes me dizzy, and for a moment I feel like I’m about to lose my balance. I hesitate, standing halfway inside the truck while his hands feel like they’re about to melt my jeans.

“You OK?” he asks, his breath warm against my cheek since he’s so close to

me. It causes goosebumps to break out across my skin.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m good.” I practically jump inside the truck and stare straight

ahead, scared to see the look on his face.

Sawyer climbs in and fires up the truck. We drive in silence for a few minutes before he glances over at me. “So, what are you working on that has you

needing to go fishing?”

“Huh?” I flash him a confused look before I remember the bullshit lie I told

him this morning to get him to take me along. “Ohhhh!” I say, quickly trying to

cover my tracks. “Umm, it’s this freelance article for Game & Fishing magazine.

They wanted a woman’s take on things.” I know it sounds like complete bullshit, because it is, and I have no idea if he believes it.

“So they hired someone who’s never gone fishing to write an article about fishing?” I can hear the skepticism in his voice and I’m pretty sure he’s on to me.

I shrug and smile.

The rest of the trip is quiet. We only drive about 20 minutes before he’s pulling off the road and onto a small dirt path that doesn’t resemble a road at all.

“Uh, are we . . . ?” I don’t finish the statement as I lean over and look out the window to make sure the truck will fit. I glance over at Sawyer, who seems completely unbothered by the fact that it feels like we’re off-roading.

“It’ll fit, don’t worry.”

“Just seems so tight.” I continue to look out the window cautiously.

“Just because it’s tight doesn’t mean it can’t fit. Trust me.”

I glance over at him to make sure I heard him correctly and see a smirk on

his face as he stares straight ahead. Did he just make a sexual innuendo? I bite

my bottom lip to keep from saying something right back.

The path opens to a clearing in front of the river, and he pulls his truck right

up to the riverbed. He puts it in park, kills the engine, and turns to face me.

“When you write your article, don’t you dare tell anyone about my fishing spot.” I think he’s joking, but his expression is stern. I raise my hand as if I’m taking an oath.

“Scout’s honor, I won’t.” I could tell him that there is no article so he truly

has nothing to worry about, but I can’t blow my cover yet. I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab the handle of the door, about to open it, when Sawyer flings his door open before turning to me.

“Just wait.”

He jumps down from the truck and walks around to my door, and I realize he’s going to help me down just like he helped me up. He opens my door and I

swing my legs around. I’m about to step off when he grabs me by my waist again and pulls me down to the ground like I weigh nothing. My hands instinctively go to his biceps as he sets me down. There’s a gap between us so

our fronts don’t touch. I glance up at him and he quickly steps back, breaking the

connection.

He grabs the supplies from the back of the truck and we walk down to the edge of the river.

“So, what are these?” I ask, reaching for the waders.

“You wear them so you don’t get wet.” He grabs his and steps into them.

That’s when I notice there are boots on the bottom of the rubber pants.

“Do the fish splash that much?” I wrinkle my nose in confusion.

He lets out a loud, almost barking laugh.

“We stand in the water. This is fly fishing.”

I follow his lead and step into the waders, pulling the straps up over my shoulders. I look down my body and laugh. “I look ridiculous.” I take a few steps toward the water and almost fall over. This will take some getting used to.

“Come here,” he says, and I waddle over to him. He grabs my straps and makes sure they’re properly on my shoulders. I almost feel childlike standing so

close to him, especially given that my nose is level with his chest.

He reaches down and picks up the poles. “This is called the fly rod,” he says,

holding out the pole as I grab it.

“This is the wheel and these are the flies.” He pulls a handful of colorful items from the box on the ground. “I don’t use live bait, but some people do.”

Thank God he doesn’t use live bait. The thought of squeezing a worm onto a

hook has my stomach feeling squeamish. “What kind of fish are we hunting for?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Hunting? You don’t hunt for fish, sweetheart.” He flashes me that smirk and I feel like my knees are about to give out. Did he just call me sweetheart?

“Up in this river, we’ll be catching trout.”

“You eat them?”

“Sometimes. Mostly I catch and release.”

“Then why do it?”

“Well, usually it’s relaxing. When I don’t have to explain every move and reason, that is.”

I feel a little guilty now weaseling my way into his fishing trip. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time. Grab your pole and follow me.” He winks at me with those words.

What the hell is going on? I do as he says and he walks me to the very edge of the water and stands behind me before grabbing my arms and bringing them

together so both hands are on the base of the pole.

“Hold on to the pole tightly when you cast; you don’t want to throw it.” He

puts his large hands over mine and I can feel his calluses against the tops of my hands. His arms are wrapped around me and my backside is flush against his front. I feel like I’m about to burst into flame with the delicious heat of his body radiating against my own. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“Ready?” he asks. I nod. He pulls my arms back and flicks the pole so the fly

goes sailing out into the water. “Just like that. You try.” We do it a few more times and I don’t want to step away from him.

“You’ve got it,” he says, and I smile as I cast the line a few more times. His

warm breath causes a few stray hairs to blow across my face. I tilt my head back

and up and he tilts his head down to meet my gaze. I see his eyes drop from mine down to my lips and I instinctively dart my tongue out to wet them. Just as

I think he’s going to lean down and kiss me, he removes his arms from around

me, stepping back and severing the connection between us.

“Let’s go.” He leans down and picks up his pole as he points toward the water and we gingerly walk out into the river. It’s not too deep, but I can feel how cold it is through the waders, and I’m glad I wore layers. The current isn’t

too strong, but I can feel the resistance as I anchor my legs.

For a little while, we both cast our poles, and every once in a while, he reaches over to correct or assist me. I ask him a few questions and he answers in his normal, clipped manner.

“I’m getting a little hungry, how ‘bout you?” I look over at him.

“I could eat,” he replies.

I reel in my line and turn to make my way back toward the riverbank when I

trip and fall straight into the water.

“Ahhh!” I yelp as I go down and scream when the cold water starts filling up

my waders.

“Shit!” I hear Sawyer say as he makes his way toward me. I desperately cling to the rod in my hand, scared to let it go as I struggle to stand up. It’s no use. The water is weighing me down too much and I can’t stand up. I’m frantic

now—trying to drag myself to shore—when I hear a loud, bellowing laugh.

“This isn’t funny!” I scream as panic grips my throat. Sawyer reaches down

and pulls me up by the shoulder straps, dragging me to shore. I step out of the

soggy waders as my entire body instantly breaks out in shivers.

“You’re okay.” He grabs the waders from me and turns them upside down to

pour out the water.

“I—I lost th-the pole,” I say between chattering teeth.

“Don’t worry about it. You got any extra clothes in that picnic basket?”

I shake my head no.

“I think I have something. Hang on.” He steps out of his waders and jogs over to the truck. He returns a moment later with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Here. The pants are going to be big, but it’s better than staying in cold, wet

jeans.” I nod and reach for the sweatpants, but he tucks them quickly between his legs.

“Wait. Let’s get you out of this sweatshirt first,” he says before reaching for

the hem to pull it over my head.

“No, wait!”

It’s too late. He pulls it over my head in an instant, and I’m left standing in

the skintight white tank top that’s now wet and see-through. I glance down and

see my nipples about to rip through the shirt. Shit! In my haste this morning, I

completely forgot to put on a bra.

I look up and see his eyes staring straight down at my tits, which are now very much on display. I quickly cross my arms over my chest—attempting to cover myself.

“Too late, sweetheart, already saw them.” He doesn’t seem fazed. I grab the

hoodie from his hands and turn to walk toward the truck.

“Don’t look!” I practically shout as I open the passenger-side door so I can

change behind it. I peek over the edge of the window to make sure his back is

facing me when I undo my wet jeans and peel them down my legs. I’m standing in the middle of the damn woods in nothing but a soaking wet shirt and a black

lace thong. I kick off my shoes and remove my soaked socks before realizing that I forgot to grab the sweatpants from him. I gasp and look up to see him standing on the other side of the door—holding up the pants.

“You forget something?” That smirk is back.

“Give them,” I say, unamused.

“Now, I’d like to see a little gratitude, Miss Prescott.”

Is he seriously flirting with me? Now? When I’m standing here in my

goddamn underwear hiding behind a truck door?

“Please,” I say with an outstretched arm.

He takes a step toward me. “Please what?” Another step.

“Please may I have the sweatpants?” I can feel my heart beating in my throat.

Another step.

He’s just on the other side of the truck door, looking at me through the glass

of the window, with the door still covering most of my body.

He rounds the corner of the truck and stands over me, taking another step toward me so I have to back up. The backs of my legs hit the running board and

I realize I have nowhere else to go.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I cover my breasts again.

He tosses the sweatpants on the floor of the truck and reaches down, picking

me up and practically tossing me onto the seat of the truck. He doesn’t say a word as he picks up the pants and begins to put them on me. He picks up one foot at a time, placing each in a pant leg before slowly dragging them up my thighs.

“You’re shaking.” His voice is low and thick. I don’t know if I’m shaking because I’m cold or because he’s dragging his fingers up my thighs as he pulls

the pants further up my body. I place a hand on either of his shoulders as he lifts me and pulls the pants the rest of the way on. I don’t know what’s happening in

this moment, but I know I don’t want it to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.”

There’s that term again. His tone is stern, but it sounds like he’s choking the words out. My knees are on either side of his hips and my hands are still on his

shoulders.

“Like what?” I ask as I bite my bottom lip. His hands squeeze my waist even

more tightly and a small groan escapes his lips.

SIX

SAWYER

F uck me. I watch as she bites her bottom lip. Does she know what she’s doing to me? I can feel my dick about to rip through my jeans, but I don’t care. My resolve is slipping. I don’t know how much more temptation I can take from her.

I didn’t mean to look at her breasts, but when I pulled her sweatshirt over her

head, her pert little nipples were staring at me through her shirt. My mouth salivates at the thought of sucking them into my mouth.

“Get in the fucking truck.” I lean forward, my mouth a few centimeters away

from hers.

“I’m in the fucking truck,” she says, barely above a whisper.

I release my hands from her waist and step back, swinging her legs forward

before I slam the passenger-side door shut. I don’t bother looking back at her as I walk around and pick up my gear. I toss everything, including her wet clothes,

into the back of the truck before climbing in myself.

I can see the look of confusion on her face as I reach across and grab her seatbelt. I pull it roughly across her chest as I fasten it. A little yelp escapes her lips as I tighten it. I see her glance down at my crotch with wide eyes, and I know she can see how hard my cock is. I grab her by the back of the neck and

pull her face close to mine.

“You look at me like that again and I’ll bend you over the seat of this truck

and fuck you till you can’t walk. I don’t care where we are.” I know the words

are blunt and I can see they startle her—maybe even scare her—but that’s the

intent. I don’t need some young woman toying with me, teasing me. I want her to know that I’m not the kind of man she wants.

“You understand me?” She nods but I need confirmation. “I want to hear it.”

“I—I understand,” she says, her eyes dropping down to my lips.

“You understand what?” I know I’m a sick bastard, but I want to hear her say

the words. I want to hear her say that I’ll fuck her.

“That you’ll⁠ —”

“You can say it, sweetheart. You’re a big girl.” I tighten my grip on the back

of her neck.

“That you’ll bend me over and fuck me.” She says it louder this time, with

confidence.

“Good girl. Now, are you ready to behave?”

She nods slowly and I can’t help myself. I move my hand from the back of

her neck, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out and licks the tip of my thumb, and my temperature spikes.

“That’s not behaving,” I reprimand her and I don’t know why. I don’t want

her to behave. I want her to jump across the cab of this truck and impale herself on my cock. “I’d love to see those lips wrapped around my cock.” I can’t control

the words coming out of my mouth. I know I’m an idiot, but I don’t stop. “Next

time you misbehave like that, I’m not only going to bend you over and fuck you,

but first I’ll use this pretty little mouth of yours,” I continue dragging my thumb across her bottom lip, “and I’ll have you gagging as I fuck your mouth.”

I pull her in and softly touch my lips to hers, but just as quickly, I release her and turn back to the front of the truck. I fasten my own seatbelt, start the truck, and throw it in reverse to head back to the cabin.

She doesn’t say anything the entire trip back. I don’t know if I’ve scared her

or if she’s in shock. I don’t even know what I plan to do when we get back. All I can think about doing is what I just told her. My lips burn where hers touched mine, and I kick myself for stopping. I should have tasted her.

I pull the truck back into the driveway and shut it off. I don’t wait for her to

move before I walk around to the passenger side and whip the door open. I can’t

stop myself.

I know I shouldn’t.

But I’m going to anyway.

I reach around her and unfasten her seatbelt before grabbing her around the

waist. This time when I help her down from the truck, I don’t put any space between us. I drag her body slowly down the front of my own before setting her

on her feet. She doesn’t say a word as she stares up at me with her big blue eyes.

I take a step closer to her and she falls back against the seat of the truck, her elbow coming up to rest on it behind her. Her tits are on full display through her shirt. I lean forward, resting a hand on either side of her on the seat. Her eyes drop down to my mouth again as she parts her lips. I lean in, pressing my hard

cock against her center. A small moan escapes her lips as mine touch hers . . .

just as I hear a car pull in behind us.

“Fuck me,” I say as I step back and see a smiling Pearl and Jade through the

windshield of Pearl’s SUV. I grab Quinn’s hand and pull her so she’s standing up

before I step around the front of the truck. I adjust myself so I’m not sporting a raging hard-on before I walk to the bed of the truck and reach for my things.

“Hey, Sawyer!” Pearl says as she jumps out of her vehicle. I don’t think she

realizes what she just interrupted, and I plan on keeping it that way.

“What brings you ladies up here?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I look around but don’t see Quinn. A few seconds later, she’s jogging up

the steps from the cabin. She must have run inside when I walked around the truck. She’s zipping up a jacket as she approaches us.

“Hey, I’m Quinn.” She thrusts her hand toward Pearl and Jade as they

introduce themselves.

“We didn’t expect this one to introduce us to you, so we thought we’d come

up and welcome you to Grand Lake!” Jade spins around with two bottles of wine

—one in each hand—and holds them up with a big smile. Great, just what I need: three drunk women gossiping about me.

“Yeah, we know it’s unannounced, and if you’re busy, we’ll just leave the wine and these goodies with you.” Pearl opens a white box with Bean & Bun stamped across the top.

“No, this is great. I’m so eager to make friends and meet new people here.

Plus, you have pastries and wine. Definitely not turning that down.” Quinn giggles and it pulls at my chest. Even in my oversized sweatpants, which she looks fucking adorable in, and sporting smeared mascara, she looks beautiful.

“You’re welcome to join us, Sawyer,” Pearl says in a sing-song way.

“Thanks, ladies, but I’ve got shit to do.” I grab the rest of my stuff and drag

it over to the shed as they make their way toward the lower level of the cabin.

“I’ll be right there!” Quinn says as she jogs back toward my truck and grabs

her wet clothes from the back. She steps down from the running board and right

into my chest. I take the opportunity to lean down and whisper in her ear.

“We’ll finish this later.”

I see her hug the clothes to her chest before she takes off toward the cabin.

I STAND in the shower longer than necessary. This damn woman has only been

here a few days and I’ve already fucked up. Then again, she’s only here for a few short months, so maybe it can just be two adults enjoying each other without

a commitment. I let myself fantasize a little about the situation. The image of her staring up at me down at the river pops into my head. She seems so innocent.

Too innocent for someone like me.

I turn off the shower, step out, and towel off before throwing on some clean

jeans and a flannel shirt. I look myself over in the mirror and decide to trim up my beard. I also realize my hair is getting too long. I look at the faded flannel I’m wearing and wonder if I should invest in some new clothes. Money certainly

isn’t the issue—I’ve just never really cared much about what I was wearing.

I plug in my electric razor and start grooming my beard. I think about what it

would be like to take Quinn out. Would I even have something nice to wear? I

push the thought out of my head before cleaning up my beard and heading to the

kitchen to grab a beer. I glance at the clock and it’s just a few minutes after noon.

My phone rings and I glance at the screen: Clay Slade.

“Hey man, long time no talk,” I say as I crack open the beer and take a long

swig.

“Hey yourself, brother. Thought I’d give you a call to talk about the restaurant. Now a good time?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Colton and Drake told you we put in an offer. We should be

hearing back in a few days.”

“Yeah, they said as much.” Clay has owned his own contracting business for

some time, and he’ll be the one doing the reno on the restaurant if they accept our offer. “Honestly, I’m so excited to get started on this job. I feel like we’ve all been talking about it for so long.”

“You just need another excuse to get out of the house now that Autumn is pregnant with your third,” I laugh.

“Dude, you have no idea.”

I laugh again, but he’s right. I wouldn’t have any idea, because the one time I thought my ex-wife was pregnant with my child . . . it wasn’t even my child. It

was my best friend’s, with whom she’d been having an affair.

Clay continues, “When she was pregnant with Logan, I felt like we were so

preoccupied with getting the bed and breakfast done and dealing with her crazy

ex-husband that she didn’t have time to be moody, but goddamn . . . maybe it’s

because we’re having a girl this time around. I feel like I can’t do shit right by her.” He lets out a long, exasperated sigh and I want to laugh again, but the poor man sounds defeated.

“You know, last night she actually chewed me out for the way I breathe. The

way I BREATHE, dude!” He enunciates the last part. “She said I was purposely

trying to piss her off by breathing too loudly.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man, other than that it’s temporary. She’s got

what? Another few months?” I take another sip of my beer.

“Nine weeks. So we need to get cracking on this job or I might not be around

anymore, because she’s going to murder me.”

“You Slade brothers are about to have enough kids running around to start your own professional sports team.” I glance at the framed picture of them up on

the mantle. “Reminds me, I’ll need an updated picture soon.”

I’ve known the Slade brothers since we were preteens. My dad actually

worked at the Slade Brewery for most of his life. Their father always took great care of my dad. Even when the locals hated the Slade family and treated them like pariahs because of the land their brewery was on, my dad stuck by their side. I was always closest to Drake and Colton, the two oldest, but in recent years, I’ve also grown close to Clay, Wyatt, and their youngest brother, Hudson.

All five brothers are married now with families of their own. I didn’t think I’d ever see Drake settle down after his ex ripped his heart out. I know that pain all too well. And hell, watching Colton bury his first wife—leaving him a single

dad—was something I never thought he’d get over. But now, he’s happily married to the nanny he’d hired, of all people, and they’re about to have baby number three.

“So I went over to the restaurant this morning with Drake, and we drew up

some plans. I’d love to run them by you when you get a chance.”

“Yeah, anytime, man. I’ve actually got nothing going on this afternoon if you’re free?” I’m hoping he’s available so I can get out of this cabin and get my mind and dick off Quinn.

“Sure. I need to go check in on Autumn and the boys, but I can meet you in

Loveland in a few hours.”

We hang up the phone and I grab my beer and slide open the balcony door. I

need some fresh air to clear my head. I take a seat and prop up my feet. I love

this place, even though I bought it so Justine and I could make our home and fill it with kids. Not even the memory of her can taint it that much, though. I prefer the serenity of the mountains and trees to the hustle and bustle of city life. Even in downtown Grand Lake, there’s too much going on for my taste.

I’m lost in thought when I hear the sliding glass door on the lower deck open

as the girls step out onto the balcony, laughing about something.

“So what was going on when we pulled up? Because it looked like we were

interrupting something . . . if you know what I mean,” I hear Pearl say as Jade

starts laughing. Shit, just what I need: the town gossiping about Quinn and me.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t anything like that,” I hear Quinn say. “I fell in the water

like an idiot when we were fishing, and he was just making sure I was okay because I fell funny on my arm. That’s why I was wearing his sweatpants. My

jeans were soaked—well, everything was soaked—and that water is freezing!”

Nice cover, I think to myself.

“Listen, it’s none of our business, but if you ever do hook up with Sawyer Archer, you’ve got to fill us in! We’ve all wondered about his . . . ahem, you-know-what.”

Jesus fucking Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me. I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but this is my home and I was out here first.

“Jade, you’re so bad!” I hear Pearl giggle. “But she’s not wrong. And yes, we’re both happily married women, but I’m telling you, every woman in town is

curious.”

I laugh a little to myself and wonder if there’s any truth to that statement. I’m shocked that Justine never ran her mouth around town about my bedroom

proclivities or the size of my manhood. Wouldn’t surprise me if she did.

My sex life with Justine wasn’t typical. We were good at it— too good at it.

Our relationship started out as purely physical. The sex was hot and she couldn’t get enough of it. As time went on, it turned into something more, but even then,

what we did wasn’t making love. She liked to fuck rough.

“So, what brought you to Grand Lake?” I hear Jade ask. I was standing up,

about to tiptoe back inside, but the question stops me. I feel bad listening in on their conversation, but I’m curious about Quinn’s answer. I sit back down slowly

as I wait to hear it.

“My mom died.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Quinn. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay, thank you. She had been sick for about six years. Cancer.” I

hear Pearl and Jade gasp. “She fought really hard for a long time, and they even

thought she was going to beat it at one point. But, as cancer often does, it came back twice as bad. She was diagnosed as terminal about eight months before she

died.”

“Oh, sweetie, I can’t imagine,” I hear Pearl say.

“So yeah, I’ve always dreamt of writing a novel and thought this is my chance. I wanted to come to a place I’ve never been that inspires me, and well, I think I’ve found it.”

“That is . . . wow, you’re so strong.”

It’s silent for a moment before I hear Quinn speak, “Well, it’s getting a little

cold out here. What do you ladies say we go inside and open that wine?” The other two reply with excitement and all three head back inside.

I sit in the stillness, my heart breaking for Quinn. I had no idea. I’d assumed

she was running away from a breakup or a bad relationship, but I didn’t realize

she and I had something so sad and difficult in common.

My mom passed away unexpectedly when I was only 14. She had an

undiagnosed aneurysm and died in her sleep. I thought it was going to kill my dad, but he stayed strong and raised me by himself.

I’m an only child. My parents struggled for 10 years to conceive me and they

called me their “miracle baby” when my mom finally got pregnant at 40. I know

what it’s like to grieve the loss of a parent, and I also know what it’s like to watch your parent slowly suffer and die . . . and it hurts even more when there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.

I finish the rest of my beer and stand to go inside when I hear the door below

open again.

“Yeah, I met Willow at the Bean & Bun the other day and she told me about

that. It’s a barn dance?” I hear Quinn asking about Grand Lake’s annual Fall Fest.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of fun. They have all sorts of stuff the entire week, mostly

for kids and families and such, but on Friday night, they have this big dance with an open bar and a potluck. I know it probably sounds so Podunk, but hey, it’s our tradition here and we love it.”

I know Pearl loves that damn fest since she’s always pestering me to go every fuckin’ year. I haven’t been to one since Justine ran off, and I don’t plan on going back.

“Plus,” Jade interjects, “there’s a lot of local talent there. It’s basically like a cattle auction for all the eligible bachelors,” she giggles.

That comment causes my back to stiffen.

“Oh yeah?” I hear Quinn ask.

That causes my jaw to clench.

“Yeah, so you’re going, no question, and you better wear something cute and flirty, because I can tell you right now that all the guys in town are going to trip over themselves when you walk through those barn doors. You’ll have to shoo them off with a broom!”

“I have this dress . . . you guys want to see it?”

“Show us!” Pearl says, and I hear them run back inside and slam the door.

If Quinn thinks she’s going to flaunt her sexy little ass for all the boys in this town, she has another thing coming. Guess it’s time for me to go to the annual

Fall Fest after all.

SEVEN

QUINN

“Sooo, what do you think?” I hold up the red off-the-shoulder dress and

spin the hanger around so they can see the front and back. It has little

white flowers all over it and it ties above the breast area, leaving a keyhole for cleavage.

“It hits me like right here,” I say as I draw an imaginary line across my thigh

about three inches above my knee, “and it sits off the shoulders.”

“That is adorable,” Jade says emphatically.

“The boys are going to be drooling,” Pearl adds.

I look it over again and I wonder if Sawyer will be at the fest. I want to ask

them, but I don’t want it to seem obvious.

“So does everyone go to this thing or . . . ?”

“Yeah, for the most part. You’ll get to meet our husbands. Blake will be there

—right, Pearl? I know Memphis will be for sure. I told him he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, Blake thought he was going to be out of town, but he said he was going to make sure he was there. We have some special memories from the fest.”

She gets a dreamy, far-off look on her face.

“Is . . . does Sawyer go?” I hear my voice go up about six octaves as Jade and Pearl throw each other a glance.

“Uh, not really. I mean, he used to, but he hasn’t been there in a while.”

“Well, not since Jus—” Jade begins to say, but Pearl gives her a quick look

that says shut up and she snaps her mouth shut.

“Oookay, is there something I’m missing?” I ask, confused.

“No, it’s just that he’s had a lot of shit in his life and it’s not really our place to talk about it.”

I nod, but it’s left me more curious. Who were they going to mention?

IT’S BEEN several hours since Pearl and Jade left, and the sun has completely

set. I shiver as I put on my pajamas and an extra layer of thick, warm socks and

my hoodie. I check the thermostat. Although it’s set to 70, it’s freezing. I open the sliding glass door and step out on the balcony. The temperature feels like it’s dropped at least 30 degrees, and a thick blanket of snow covers the ground.

“When did it start snowing?”

I step back inside and grab a blanket to wrap myself in as I sit in the lounger

and flip on the TV that hangs on the wall. This is the first time I’ve turned it on, and the screen immediately populates with several streaming services.

“Nice.” I open Peacock and flip around to find The Office, my go-to show when there’s nothing to watch or I don’t feel like flipping around to find something. I get up to make myself some tea then stare at my laptop. I haven’t

written a single word since I’ve been here, and now with whatever the hell happened with me and Sawyer today and making new friends, I’m worried I’ll never end up getting around to actually writing.

After my water has boiled, I grab a tea bag from the selection in the kitchen

and take the tea and my laptop back to my chair. I turn the TV volume way down

and fire up the computer. I open a Word doc and start typing whatever comes to

mind.

Broken man. Tragic loss. Jaded. Mountain man. Learning to love again.

I continue with my brainstorming until my mind starts to wander back to the

events of this morning. I haven’t even had time to really process it. With Jade and Pearl stopping by, I pushed it out of my mind, wondering if I dreamt it or if it actually happened.

As I absentmindedly bring my thumb to my bottom lip and drag it back and forth like Sawyer did, my body shivers as I remember the look in his eyes. I’ve

never had a man look at me like that before—like he wanted to devour me. The

look was dangerous but exciting—the kind of look that has a warning behind it. I

smile to myself when I think about how soft his lips felt against mine. I wouldn’t even call it a kiss; it was just a whisper of a kiss.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a pounding on the front door. I jump up, my

tea sloshing a bit onto my pajama pants. I round the corner and see the top of Sawyer’s head in the door window. I’m suddenly very aware that I look like an

actual hobo in my now-stained pajama bottoms, a giant hoodie, and a messy bun.

I don’t have time to do anything about it, so I wrap the blanket tighter around me as I open the door.

“Hey,” is all he says.

“Hey.”

We both stand there for a brief moment just staring at each other before he

speaks again.

“You know how to make a fire?” He points toward my fireplace with his chin.

“Umm, no, I don’t.” I turn and gesture for him to come inside.

“It’s getting really cold out there and there’s a winter weather advisory, so it’s probably best you have a fire going so the furnace doesn’t struggle to keep

up.”

“Oh, is that normal for October? The weather advisory?”

“Yeah, the weather up in the mountains is always unpredictable. We’ve even

had snow in August before.” He slips off his boots and I look down at his socks,

which are plaid. Something about that makes me giggle and he looks at me like

I’m crazy.

“I like your socks.”

He doesn’t say anything and just steps past me to walk into the living room

and kneel in front of the fireplace. I watch as his shirt stretches over his back, his muscles rippling beneath it.

“So, how’d you learn to build a fire?” I know it’s a stupid question as soon as

the words leave my mouth. He turns around and looks at me over his left shoulder. “Sorry, I know that was a dumb question,” I say. “Just a little nervous.”

I say the last part under my breath and, thankfully, I don’t think he heard me.

I watch as he crumples up some old newspaper that was lying in a stack next

to the fireplace. “I was wondering what that was for,” I mention. Next, he strategically stacks small sticks on top of the paper before standing to grab a box of matches from the mantle.

“You want the papers handy so you’ll have something that will feed the flames to the kindling. Otherwise, you won’t get the fire going,” he finally says.

“Kindling?”

“The thin pieces of wood. You start with these. Come here.” He motions me

over and I kneel down next to him. “You see how I crisscrossed these pieces all

around the paper? It allows oxygen to flow through and feed the fire while it grows. Once the kindling pieces are burning, you can slowly start adding in bigger pieces of wood and full logs.”

“Huh,” I say, actually impressed. “Never seen anyone start a fire before.”

“Your dad never did?”

I’m a little taken aback at his personal question. “No, I didn’t have really have a dad.” He doesn’t say anything back, so I continue talking. “So, when can

I add more wood?”

“Give this a few minutes. I’ll stay until it gets going enough to build it up.”

“You want something to drink?” I ask.

“Whatcha got?”

He stands up and reaches out to pull me up, so I’m once again standing close

to him. He’s looking down at me and I feel my pulse quicken. I just wish he’d

kiss me already. Throw me over his shoulder and drag me back to my ro⁠ —

“Quinn?”

“Wine?” I forgot I was staring at him.

“Sure.”

I scurry off to the kitchen to pour us each a mug. I come back a minute later

and see him looking at the picture of my mom, my cat, and me.

“That’s my mom and me. And my cat Bella Sue. They’re both gone now.”

“I’m sorry.” He reaches over and takes the wine from me.

“Cheers,” I say, holding out my glass. “To learning new things,” I say gesturing toward the fire. This time he remembers to keep his gaze on mine as he

sips.

I’m painfully aware of how awkward the silence hanging between us is. It’s

eating me up inside how much I want to ask him about earlier. I want him to throw the mug down and push me up against the wall, but he doesn’t seem interested in me like that anymore. What the fuck?

“You like The Office?” I point at the TV with my mug.

“I’m not much of a TV show guy.”

“What kind of guy are you? Shoot ‘em up movies?” I grin.

“Shoot ‘em up?”

“Yeah, the big bravado action movies where Jason Statham is shooting

everyone and blowing things up to save the girl and the world.”

He shrugs his shoulders and then runs his hands through his hair as he leans

against the mantle. This is the first time I’ve seen him do this. He looks . . .

relaxed.

“I like a good action movie, yeah. Big fan of thrillers, actually.”

“Interesting. Got a favorite?”

He takes a sip of his wine, “The Shining, probably.”

“That’s horror.”

“It’s both,” he winks.

My thighs clench. Damn my traitor body.

The fire looks like it’s gaining momentum, so he places his mug on the mantle and squats back down. He grabs a few bigger logs and puts them on the

fire in a similar crisscross fashion before standing back up and grabbing his mug.

I take the moment to admire his smooth movements. I wonder what his hair feels

like . . . what it smells like. It’s thick and shiny and all I can picture is grabbing it while his face is between my thighs. I’m full-on staring at him again when he meets my eyeline.

“Something on your mind?” His eyes are dark, like they were at the river this

morning.

“Do you want to go to the Fall Fest?” I blurt the words out before I can completely comprehend what I’m saying. Did I just ask him on a date? He stares

at me blankly for a moment. Clearly, that was not what he was expecting me to

say, because he lets out a long sigh before running his hand roughly over his beard.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I continue. I try to play off the rejection

before it even happens and turn to walk into the kitchen. I don’t need anything. I just don’t want to stand here with egg on my face in front of him.

“Quinn,” is all he says.

“It’s cool, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry. I know—” I stop myself. I was

going to say, I know it’s not like that between us, but honestly, I don’t know what it’s like between us, and I don’t want to say those words in case, for him, there is something between us. Ugh, why does this have to be so complicated?

“The fire looks good. Just throw another log on it every hour or so and it should burn through the night. If you run into any trouble with it,” he points toward the ceiling, “you know where to find me.”

He thanks me for the wine before heading toward the kitchen. “I got it,” I say

as I grab the cup from him and place it in the sink before following him to the

door. “Thanks again for the fire lesson.” I see his eyes darken a little before he nods and starts to walk away. “Oh, and thanks for the fishing lesson earlier, even though I only ended up wet.”

He’s a few steps down the balcony walkway when he stops, turns around, and walks right back toward me, his eyes fixed on mine. I grip the edge of the

doorframe, not having a clue what to expect, when he puts his arm above my head and leans down so our lips are almost touching again as he says, “That’s what she said.”

I immediately burst into a giggle, “So you do watch the show,” I say referring to Michael Scott’s famous line from The Office. He stares at my lips for another beat before flashing me a wink and turning to walk away.

And just like that, my panties melt.

EIGHT

SAWYER

W alk the fuck away, I say to myself over and over again as I stare down

at her pouty little lips. It feels like it’s literally killing me to resist her. I still can’t believe I managed to pull myself from her this morning down by the

river. What she doesn’t realize is that if Pearl and Jade hadn’t shown up and ruined the moment, I had every intention of making good on my promise. With

just a simple “yes” from her lips, I know I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from bending her over and sinking my cock deep in her sweet little pussy.

Just the thought alone has me salivating. My dick’s so hard it could probably

cut glass right now. Snow has started falling at a pretty rapid rate. The ground is already covered and the wind coming down the mountains has picked up

substantially. I pull out my phone and check the weather app, confirming that there’s still a winter weather advisory in place. I consider telling Quinn to stay in my guest room tonight, but just the thought of her sleeping that close has me at

full attention again. I adjust myself as I step inside and close my door, putting some distance between us.

I know that getting involved with her would be trouble for both of us. I’m not Mr. Settle-Down-and-Start-a-Family. Tried it. Failed at it. Don’t want it again. And the way she looked at me when she asked me to the Fall Fest . . .

that’s the image I need to keep in my mind the next time I’m about to give in and take her. Those big doe eyes have a story behind them. She wants more than just

a casual fuck here and there, and she deserves more. But I’m not the man who

can give it to her, and the quicker she understands that, the better.

I throw a few logs on the fire and make my way to the shower before stripping down and stepping inside. I feel like I’ve been carrying the weight of

the world on my shoulders lately. Between my businesses, the restaurant with the

Slade brothers, and the rumors around town that Justine has been spotted again,

the tension in my back and shoulders is at an all-time high.

By the time I get out of the shower and look outside, everything is covered in

a thick white blanket of snow. The wind is howling and the lights in my bedroom

flicker. It’s not uncommon to lose power in a storm like this, especially up in the mountains. Thankfully, I have a backup generator. I finish drying off before pulling on my flannel pajamas and a long-sleeve T-shirt.

I make my way to the living room and pour myself a glass of whiskey before

settling down in the chair in front of the fire. I glance over at the empty chair next to me, where Justine used to sit. When she first left, I almost threw the damn thing down the mountain, then thought better of it before I acted on it.

Now I don’t feel anything when I look at it.

I know people think I’m jaded and bitter, but the truth is, I’m just wiser. I don’t believe love is all you need or that it’s even worth it. Fully trusting someone and giving them your heart only to have them rip it out for no fucking

reason is pure evil, and I refuse to go through that pain again. Lesson learned.

I finish the glass and start to nod off when I hear a soft knock on the front door. I sit up but think I must have been dreaming, but then I hear it again.

“What the hell?” I walk to the door and pull it open to find Quinn wrapped in

a blanket and shivering.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” she says softly. I pull her inside and shut the door. “The power went out downstairs.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. The bottom level is on a different electrical service for business reasons, so the power can go out on the lower level and not my level.

“You stay here and I’ll go check it out.”

She stands there shivering, wearing her furry boots with the damn blanket wrapped around her.

“Here, sit by the fire and get warm.” I guide her over to the chair and she

takes a seat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I go to my room, throw on a pair of jeans, and grab my coat and boots. Just

what I need: Quinn Prescott sitting in my living room and probably sleeping in

the room next to me.

After failing to get the power up and running again, I give up and head back

upstairs. When I walk in, she’s still sitting in the chair, and her cheeks now have a rosy glow.

“I’ll have to call an electrician tomorrow to come out. I have a spare bedroom you can stay in down the hall.”

“Oh.” Her face looks surprised. I glance at the clock and see it’s only 9 p.m.

I’m tempted to go straight to bed right now so I don’t have to deal with this temptation, but then she says, “Got any more of that whiskey?”

After I hand her a glass, she perks up and keeps talking. “You know, I really

like it here. Everyone is so nice and the lake is beautiful. I feel like I’m living in a calendar. You must be so used to it.” She talks so fast it’s like she’s not even taking a breath. I can’t tell if it’s a nervous thing or if this is just . . . Quinn.

“Guess so.”

“When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me about Colorado. It was her

favorite place to visit, and she had some crazy camping stories with her friends.”

She trails off as she watches the flames in the fireplace dance. I can’t tell if she realizes she’s stopped talking or if that’s the end of her story, but the silence doesn’t last long.

“Do you like to go camping?” She takes another swig of the whiskey and I

see her choke it down. It makes me smile a little, like she’s drinking it to fit it in, but not used to the burn of the liquor.

“Sure, I guess so.” I lean back in my chair and cross one leg over the other,

letting the spirits calm me. I close my eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire.

“So, you like to fish and you like camping. Do you like to ski and hike? I know those are huge pastimes here in the Rocky Mountains.”

Goddamn this woman likes to talk. “It’s okay to be silent sometimes.” I crack an eye open to look at her and instantly regret saying the words. I meant

them as a joke, but I can see the hurt settling over her face. Maybe I’m being too

hard on her. It’s gotta be lonely up here for someone who doesn’t know anyone and is now snowed in.

“Quinn, I’m sorry. I was kidding.” That at least earns me a faint smile.

“I know I talk a lot, I’m sorry. My mom—” she trails off and I don’t want her

to share something she doesn’t want me to know.

“It’s okay, really.”

Silence falls between us as we both stare at the fire before she speaks again.

“My mom passed away a few months ago.” I don’t let on that I already know

since I heard her talk about it earlier. I just let her talk. “She was diagnosed with cancer several years ago and I became her caretaker. It was right after I graduated college, so I never really got to do the whole get a job and start your career thing. My mom is— was—my best friend, so it was okay that I spent so much time with her. We always talked about everything.” She falls silent and I

see her frantically wiping at her eyes. I don’t know what to say. I know the pain she’s feeling missing her mom. I miss my dad every damn day. It felt like a piece of me died the day he did. But her pain is recent, raw.

“She was quite the storyteller,” she laughs. “She’d always embellish the hell

out of them, but it was okay, because it made them so fantastical and hilarious. I guess I got that from her.” She turns to face me and the pain and hurt in her eyes feel like a thousand-pound elephant on my chest. I have the uncontrollable urge

to pull her to me and hold her—to let her cry and tell her that it’s going to be okay—but I don’t.

“I’m sorry you lost your mom. I know—” I don’t know what I want to say,

so I just stop. I’m not ready to share about my own loss of both my parents. I’m

not ready to be vulnerable with her . . . or anyone.

“Thank you. That’s why I’m here.” She lifts her hands and gestures around

the room. “I studied English lit and creative writing in school, and my dream was always to put my mom’s stories into a book. I think it’s too soon though, so

I’m looking for that spark of inspiration before I start writing my novel.”

“What kind of spark?” I ask, because I’m truly interested.

“I don’t really know. I feel like when it hits me, I’ll just know. Ya know?”

I nod. She starts talking about the town again: how she wants to go explore

the mountains and try skiing. I’m listening, or at least I’m trying to listen to her, but I’m lost in her mannerisms—the way her delicate neck moves when she swallows down the whiskey, the way her tongue darts out and licks the rim of the glass. Fuck me. I can feel my dick twitch as I grip the edge of the chair like I’m riding a roller coaster.

“I’m too hot now.” She sets her drink down on the table between our chairs

and proceeds to pull her hoodie over her head. Oh, goddamn. She arches her back as she lifts her arms, exposing her stomach as the shirt underneath rides up.

All I can picture is running my tongue along the soft curves of her stomach before burying myself inside her. She realizes her undershirt is inching up and quickly grabs it and pulls it back down. I avert my eyes before she catches me.

“So, anyway,” she continues on with what she was saying, but all I can hear

is the blood rushing in my ears.

“I’ve gotta take a shower,” I mutter before I practically launch myself out of

my chair and down the hall to slam the bathroom door. I’ve already taken a shower, but I’m going to need another one to wash away these filthy thoughts.

I turn the water on cold and step into the shower. I stare down at my cock,

which is at full mast, and silently curse it. The cold water does little to lessen my need, and before I can stop, I’m taking myself in my hand and pumping my shaft. A bead of pre-cum has already formed at the tip. I’m not gentle as I pump

my fist aggressively, grunting with each thrust.

I hate that I want her so bad.

I hate that I can’t stop myself from fantasizing about taking her roughly. I imagine her perky little ass bent over the kitchen table as I smack it, reprimanding her for looking at me the way she does. I run my hand between her

cheeks, over her asshole, and wonder if she’s ever had a man there, before I thrust two of my fingers inside her. She whimpers but I don’t stop.

I grip myself tighter, fucking my fist over and over as I image sinking my balls deep into her wet heat. I grunt loudly as I lose control and explode on the shower floor. I’m breathing like I just ran a damn marathon, and even with the

ice-cold water running over my body, I’m sweating.

I look down at myself and I’m instantly ashamed.

I don’t bother returning to the living room. Instead, I brush my teeth and crawl into bed hoping that I’ll wake tomorrow a new man. No longer tempted by

Quinn Prescott.

I ROLL over and stare at the clock. It’s been two hours and I can’t sleep. I sit up, realizing I never showed Quinn the guest room. “Shit.”

I throw the covers back and walk out to the living room, where only the flicker of the fire casts a glow on the room. No lights are on and both chairs are empty. I lean down to toss another log on the fire, and that’s when I see her fast asleep on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket she had on earlier.

“Quinn,” I whisper as I poke at her arm.

She doesn’t respond.

I grab her shoulder, this time gently shaking her as I say her name again. She

rolls over slightly, a small moan escaping her lips as she snuggles back into the blanket. I stare down at her. I can’t leave her here on the hard floor. There’s a slight draft and I know she’ll wake up feeling stiff.

Against my better judgment, I crouch down and hook one of my arms under

her knees and the other under her shoulders. I stand up and cradle her against my chest. Before I walk down the hallway to the guest room, I take a moment to watch the light dance across her alabaster skin. I can see her faint freckles in the glow of the flames and her perfect Cupid’s bow.

My chest tightens and I panic. This isn’t lust. This isn’t a feeling of rabid desire like I normally have when I’m around her . . . this is something else.

Something I never thought I’d feel again, and something I don’t think I want to feel again.

I quickly move down the hall, kicking open the bedroom door and placing her in the bed. I pull the covers up around her and turn to walk away when I feel her soft, warm hand dart out and grab mine.

“Stay.” It’s barely even a whisper. Her eyes are still closed and her breathing

is still deep—like she isn’t awake or aware of what she’s doing. I let her hand fall from mine before I turn and leave the room.

NINE

QUINN

I slowly blink my eyes open as sunlight streams through the curtains. I stretch

my arms overhead and let out a long yawn. I sit up slowly and glance around

the room before realizing I have no idea where I am. I quickly look at the other

side of the bed to make sure I’m not in Sawyer’s bed. My heart catches in my throat at the thought. Wouldn’t be so bad, I realize.

I don’t remember putting myself to bed last night. I stand and walk over to

the window, noting that the room is small, but it has a queen-size bed and dresser, with a closet off to one side. I look outside and the snow is deep, touching the bottom of the windowsill. I walk over to the closet and peek inside.

I don’t know what I expect to find, but it’s empty. Something on the shelf catches my eye and I reach for it. It’s a photo album.

I pull it down and wipe away the thick layer of dust, revealing the word Memories emblazoned in gold across the front. I feel guilty looking at it, but it doesn’t stop me. I open it and the page is blank. Hmm. I flip through a few more pages and a picture slips out and flutters to the floor, landing face down. I pick it up, turning it over in the process. I see a candid picture of Sawyer with a big smile on his face and a beautiful woman in his arms. Her eyes are closed and she’s laughing, her head tilted back as if she’s lost in the moment. Her long raven hair is strewn across his arm and he’s smiling down at her.

A pang runs through my heart and I’m not sure why. Am I jealous? Do I feel

sorry for him? More than anything, I’m curious as to who the woman is who managed to put a smile like that on Sawyer Archer’s face. I feel awkward nosing

through someone’s memories, so I replace the picture and photo album on the top shelf and close the closet door.

There’s a small clock on the table next to the bed that reads 7:28 a.m. I don’t

hear any movement in the house, so I crack the door open and peek my head out,

glancing both ways down the hall. The room next to me has the door closed, and

I wonder if it’s Sawyer’s bedroom. The door of the room across from me is ajar

and I can see it’s a bathroom. I quickly tiptoe across the hall and dart inside, closing the door behind me.

It’s a small bathroom with a powder room when you first enter. I open the closet and see fresh towels and shower supplies. I grab a bottle of shampoo and

pop the cap open, holding it to my nose to smell it. It smells like Sawyer.

I close my eyes for a moment as I take a few deep inhales before realizing

how creepy this is. I close the top, grab a body wash and some conditioner, and

step into the bathroom.

The warm water feels amazing as I wash my body. I replay last night over in

my head. Sawyer was . . . nice. He listened to me talk about my mom, but the

way he darted off was a bit rude. I don’t read into it too much, though. I’ve come to realize in my short time here that Sawyer Archer is extremely unpredictable.

The way he taunts me, the way he seems to flirt with me . . . it’s all so confusing.

I shut off the shower and pat myself dry before wrapping the towel around my body. I wipe down the fogged-up mirror and search around for an extra hairbrush or comb. I find one and detangle my long hair before realizing I don’t

have any clean clothes to change into.

“Shit!” I squeeze some of the remaining water from my hair and glance around. I guess I could put my pajamas back on. I look down at them balled up

in my hand and grip my towel tightly. I open the door again and look out to make sure no one’s around. Sawyer’s bedroom door is still closed, so I open the

door a little wider, and I’m just about to step out when I drop my shirt. I bend

down and pick it up before darting across the hall—square into something big and hard that knocks me on my ass.

A let out a squeal as I tumble to the ground. I drop my pajamas as I fall, and I

try with all my might to keep the grip on my towel, but I’m unsuccessful. One

side of the towel slips out of my fingers and falls open, leaving me in a very naked pile on the hallway floor . . . right at Sawyer’s feet.

I feel my entire face burst into flames as I struggle to cover myself up. I’m

sure I look like a goddamn baby deer just learning to walk, but unlike a baby deer, I’m not exactly cute in this situation.

Sawyer’s arms are suddenly around my waist as I’m closing the towel

around me. “Oh my God!” is all I can manage to say as I hang my head and cover it with my hands.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, nothing I haven’t seen before.” He places his thumb and forefinger beneath my chin and tips it up to make eye contact with me.

“You know that doesn’t actually make the situation any better,” I mutter.

Before I can register what’s happening, he slips his hand behind my neck and

pulls me closer until his lips are right in front of mine. “And what would make

the situation better, baby?”

Oh my God, did he just call me baby? I grip the towel in my hands until my knuckles go white. The way “baby” rolls off his lips has my stomach doing backflips. He’s so close, all I have to do is move forward a millimeter and our

lips will be touching.

“What did I tell you about looking at me like that?”

It’s like I’m in a trance. I can’t move or breathe. I close my eyes—willing myself to just move an inch and take what I want, but I can’t.

“I grabbed some clean clothes and your laptop for you.”

My eyes pop open and the moment is ruined. Just like that, he’s stepped back

to put some distance between us. I feel like I’m getting whiplash with this man. I nod and step into the room without a word, shutting the door behind me. I lean

against it and let out a shaky breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I shake my head—as if that could remove the thoughts of what just happened—then glance at the pile of clothes on my bed. That’s when I get embarrassed all over

again.

Sitting on top of the pile is my favorite red lace bra and panty set. Even though I have zero sex life and never really have, I’ve always had a thing for

pretty undergarments. They make me feel sexy. Because I’m smaller-chested, I’ve never felt the need for the big push-up bras. I prefer sheer, unpadded bras. I grab them and put them on, wondering what Sawyer thought when he grabbed these. Did he choose them, or did he just grab the first set he saw?

I look at the clothes he brought upstairs and pull on an oversized sweater and

a pair of skinny jeans, then head out to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Sawyer is already over the stove making what smells like bacon. My

stomach rumbles and I realize I didn’t eat dinner last night. I walk up behind him and reach to his right to grab a piece of bacon just as he steps to place some finished eggs on the plate. He steps on my foot and I grab at him with both hands, clutching his waist as he looks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Quinn, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there.” He turns the burner off and

spins around, placing a hand on either side of my face. “Are you okay?”

I nod slowly as his eyes drop from my eyes to my shoulder, where the red strap of my bra is exposed. I see his eyes darken, and in an instant, he’s walking me back toward the counter and pressing his lips against mine.

I grip his waist tightly as he covers my lips with his own. His kiss is soft but

needy, like he’s trying to devour me. My tongue instinctively darts out to meet

his, which snakes into my mouth. I let out a soft whimper as he deepens the kiss.

Our tongues are dancing and his hands start to roam my body.

He releases my face and drops his hands to my waist before grabbing and lifting me effortlessly onto the counter. He steps between my legs and I can feel his rock-hard cock straining against his jeans and pressing against my center.

“Tell me you want this too.” He sounds desperate as he slides his hand up my

shirt and cups my breast through my bra. He pinches my pert nipple and it causes me to let out a sound I don’t even recognize. My head lolls to the side and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue up my neck as he grabs a handful of

my hair with the other hand.

“Yes.” I feel breathless, excited, terrified. I know I want him so badly, but I

also know I should tell him that I’ve never been with a man before. The thought

is quickly thrust from my mind as I feel myself reaching for his belt. I frantically undo it, the clinking of the metal the only sound other than our breathing. I

unbutton his jeans and don’t bother unzipping them before I thrust my hand inside and wrap my fist around his length.

Holy shit! My fingers don’t even touch when I grip him. How the hell is this going to happen? I panic, worried at how much this might hurt. He continues to kiss me with one hand still gripping my hair as the other works to free my breasts. I don’t think . . . the words just tumble from my lips and I regret them the moment it happens.

“I’m—a virgin.”

It’s like time stands still—like all the air has been sucked out of the room and

replaced with ice water. He stops immediately and releases me, stepping back and running his hands through his hair.

“Seriously?” is all he says. I nod. “Fuck me. Fuck! Do you have any idea what I was about to do to you, Quinn?” He shouts and it startles me.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I shout back.

“Yeah, when you had your hand around my cock!” He looks down, sees his

belt is still undone, and refastens it. I can’t help but feel disappointed; I guess this means we’re done. We both stare at each other for a brief moment before he

steps closer to me again and cradles my face with his hands.

“What were you going to do to me?”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers as he leans in and kisses me again. It’s

soft and slow. I can feel the wetness pooling in my panties the longer he kisses

me. Just as I’m about to reach for him again, he stops and pulls away.

“You have no idea how badly I want you,” he says against my lips.

“Then have me.”

“I can’t—I’m not . . .” his words trail off as he kisses my forehead.

He helps me off of the counter and we both eat our breakfast in silence. We

finish and I grab our plates and take them over to the sink while we both clean

up.

“I’m going to go check on the generator again,” he says. “Electrician can’t get up the mountain with the snow. I’ll probably be gone for a few hours. Text

me if you need anything.”

He’s about to walk away when I ask him again, “What were you going to do

to me?”

He stops and turns back around, walking slowly toward me until I’m pinned

against the refrigerator. He slips his hand firmly around my neck before roughly

pulling me forward.

“We’ll discuss it later.” He leans forward and places the faintest kiss on my

lips before biting my bottom one. I feel like I’m going to melt on the spot when

he whispers, “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

AFTER SAWYER LEAVES to go work on the generator, I decide to call Gen to

check in on her and tell her about the snow we’re having here. Following the call, I plan to get to work on my book. I have a really great idea and I want to get it out while it’s fresh.

“Holy shit, that’s crazy!” she says after I tell her about the weather.

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be back up in the 70s in a day or two, and Sawyer

says it will melt in no time. Guess that’s mountain life.”

“Ohhhh Sawyer, huh? So how’s that going?” she pries.

I question if I should tell her, but figure it’s not anything I want to get into

right now. Honestly, I have no idea what this thing even is, and if it’s just a fun distraction while I’m renting here, then I want to keep these memories for myself. A little secret that is mine, tucked away from the world.

“It’s not going. He’s been a lot nicer but he’s still pretty grumpy. He did take

me fishing though.”

“You? Fishing?” she laughs.

“Yeah, it was a spectacle. I fell in the river and almost drowned, so I kept it

true to Quinn fashion.” We both laugh. I was never very athletic or graceful; in

fact, I’m downright clumsy most of the time.

I reassure Gen that I’m happy here and doing well and that I’ll see her in just

a few short months. She tells me that Liv is going to be Princess Leia and she’s

going as Luke Skywalker for Halloween and promises to send pictures. I feel

bad for the quick conversation and for rushing Gen off the phone, but I’m eager to get to work.

I open my laptop and start typing away. For the last several days, every time

I’ve opened the Word doc, the cursor just sat there blinking—taunting me. I would get up, make myself a cup of coffee, then go sit back down for a few minutes. Get up again and go look out the window. Sit back down. Get up and

do a few yoga poses. Sit back down. I repeated this process for the better part of two hours every day before closing the computer in defeat . . . but not today. I

begin typing a story about a broken, lonely man who’s too afraid to love. The words just pour out of me and onto the screen.

I don’t know Sawyer’s actual story, but seeing the photo album this morning

—not to mention the way he’s fighting so hard not to act on his desires with me

—inspired me. It was exactly the spark I needed to write a tragic love story. I don’t know where this story will end up, but I know I plan on giving Sawyer his

happily ever after, even if it’s only in a romance novel.

TEN

SAWYER

W hat the hell am I doing?

I have to get out of this damn house. I told Quinn I was going to

work on the generator, but the reality is, I don’t want to fix it. I don’t want to give her a reason to leave my cabin. I called the electrician and he can make it up the mountain just fine. Jack has been a buddy of mine for years, but I told him it wasn’t a rush, so no need to come up here today.

I’ve completely screwed myself. I thought it was just pure lust. I’m a red-blooded man, after all—one who hasn’t been around a woman in God-knowshow-long. I walk down the small set of stairs to the lower level of the cabin and let myself in. As soon as I enter, I feel my chest tighten. It smells like Quinn down here. I look around the dark space and see touches of her everywhere. A

few books sit in a pile on a table next to the picture of her, her mom, and her cat.

I smile to myself. I had a cat for a while with Justine, but the bitch stole my cat too when she left me for my best friend.

I set the picture down and try to push any thoughts of Justine out of my head,

but it doesn’t work. I know it’s only a matter of time before the chickens come

home to roost on this matter. The rumors around town about Justine are getting

stronger. When she and Tanner moved to Denver after our split, I knew it wouldn’t last long. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want her relationship to fail, but I know Tanner. He’s a flake and always has been. He gets a flea up his ass about

something and goes all in, then six months or a year later, he’s bored and ready

for something new and exciting. He’s always been that way.

I don’t want any drama in my life. After everything went down with Justine, I signed the divorce papers and walked away. She tried throwing it in my face when I didn’t fight to keep her, but what would be the point? She’d made it clear she’d moved on when she fucked my best friend in my bed and got pregnant with his baby. That’s not the kind of woman I want in my life. Hell, I don’t want any woman in my life.

I tell myself those words over and over as I gather up a few more things for

Quinn. I grab her suitcase and the framed picture and set them on the balcony as

I shut the door. As I’m doing this, I know it’s stupid. I could call Jack right now and tell him to get up here and fix the generator, or I could probably do it myself and get her out of my personal space . . . but I don’t. I tell myself it’s just lust. I know how she feels pressed up against me, I know the way she moans when I kiss her, and I just want to know more. I want to know the way she feels around

my cock. I want to know the kind of sounds she makes when she comes. I want

to be the man who causes her to lose control.

I know it’s selfish, but I’m a selfish bastard. I’m consumed with thoughts of

her. I can feel myself losing my grip on the situation, but I don’t care. I’m afraid to fully take her, because I know I’m falling. I know this will be more than just a quick fuck—this will be the beginning of an addiction.

I spend the next few hours shoveling snow and reorganizing my shed that was already organized—all in the name of avoiding Quinn. The cold has started

to make my toes and fingers go numb, so I grab an ax and head over to the woodpile. Might as well get the blood flowing in other ways.

After several minutes of chopping wood, I’m feeling overheated. I remove my coat and grab the ax again. I’m about to swing it when I get the feeling someone’s watching me. I glance back at the cabin and see Quinn standing off to

the side of the picture window before she quickly looks away.

Did I just get butterflies in my stomach? The thought irritates and excites me

at the same time. I’m back in the swing of things, lost in the momentum, when I

hear Quinn behind me.

“I brought you some coffee.” I spin around and see her standing there with

her gloved hands gripping a thermos. She’s wearing a coat that isn’t nearly warm

enough for a Colorado snowstorm. I reach out and take the cup she pours.

“You need a warmer coat,” I say as I lift the hot coffee to my lips and take a

sip. I’ve never had a woman try to care for me like this.

“And you should probably be wearing a coat,” she responds. She’s smiling and it’s like a vise around my heart. I don’t think twice. I drop the ax and hook my arm around her waist, pulling her to my lips. I kiss her hard and fast before

releasing her just as quickly.

I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t act like this is just what we do now—like it’s

normal for us to kiss each other—but I don’t think I can stop.

“Thank you for the coffee.” I finish the cup and hand it back to her. “You ever used an ax before?” She shakes her head.

I take the thermos from her and place it on the ground before grabbing her

hand and pulling her so her back is flush against my front. She doesn’t say anything as I position her body.

“Put one hand here and the other . . . here.” I place her hands on the ax handle. “Make sure you grip it firmly, because you don’t want to have it go flying out of your hands.” I take a moment to inhale her sweet scent; her slender neck is exposed and she smells like vanilla.

I pull her arms back with mine and take a few practice swings. “Stay there,”

I say as I reach down and place a log upright. I step behind her again and grip

the ax handle along with her and pull it back. “Ready?” She nods and I bring the

ax down and split the log in half.

“Holy shit, I just cut a log in half!” She smiles with excitement. “Can I try it

by myself?”

“Sure, but make sure you hold on to the handle as tightly as possible. I don’t

want to lose my head.”

I back up and give her a wide berth as she swings the ax and brings it down

on the log. It doesn’t split in half this time, but the ax head sticks in the log pretty deeply.

“Here, when that happens, you do this.” I wrap my arms around her again and pick up the log while it’s still attached to the ax, bringing it down hard onto the stump so it splits.

“You never know when you might need to do this someday. Can’t hurt to know these things.” I know she said she didn’t really have a dad growing up, and

I don’t like the thought of her ever feeling helpless.

“Hey, maybe you can teach me how to change a tire and the oil in my car next.”

She’s joking, but I’d love to teach her. I stand there for a moment just staring

at her—particularly, the way her eyes smile along with her lips. She looks around nervously, like my gaze makes her uneasy, and I like it. I want her to be

nervous around me. I want her to be scared, because I’m not Prince Charming,

and the sooner she realizes that, the better.

“I grabbed your suitcase and framed photo. Figured with the generator still being out for who knows how long, you’d probably want your stuff.” I take the

few steps over to the balcony and grab her things.

“Oh, thank you. Still no word on that, huh?” she asks.

Fuck, maybe she wants her own space after all.

“Nope,” I lie.

She reaches for the suitcase, but I just hand her the picture and start walking

toward the front door as she follows. I open the door and set the suitcase on the ground before turning back around to face her. I grip the front of her coat and drag her forward until she’s face-to-face with me.

“I’m going to finish up out here with the wood. Why don’t you make us dinner? Then when we’re done, we’re going to talk.”

She licks her lips before slowly nodding her head. “Talk about what?” Her question is soft.

“About this thing between us. About what you told me the other night and how we’re going to address that situation.”

Her eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head, and I realize that she’s never had anyone talk to her so openly about sex before. I like the look of shock on her face, so I push the limits.

“Situation?” she squeaks out.

“Mm-hmm.” I place my forearm against the doorframe above her head and

lean down until my lips are touching hers.

“I don’t want to hurt you when I fuck you, darlin’, so we’ll need to work up to you being able to take all of me.” I see her throat tense as she swallows. “I want to be able to taste you with my mouth right here,” I say as I run my hand up her inner thigh and cup her pussy. I can feel heat radiating off of her already.

“Oh!” she gasps as her lips pop open and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside her mouth. I softly rub against the seam of her jeans as I kiss her.

It’s slow and languid, and I can feel her gripping my shirt with both fists. I pull back and look at her, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“You ever had a man taste you between your le—” I’m interrupted by the sound of crunching snow and I turn to see Jack Nelson pulling up.

What the fuck is he doing here? I pull away from Quinn and reach down to adjust myself.

“You can head inside. I’m going to talk to Jack,” I say to her as I turn and make my way down the driveway.

“Hey, Jack, what’s going on?” I extend my hand to him as he climbs out of

his truck.

“Hey, Sawyer. Had some spare time so I figured I’d come up and check on

that generator you called about. I know you said no rush.”

I want to tell him to get lost, but I lead him down to the cabin so he can take

a look at it. I grab my coat from the woodpile on the walk down and put it on.

“Same thing it does every year, Jack. Bad storm comes in and it just can’t keep up.”

He crouches down to check it out before looking back up at me. “And it’s the

same thing this year that I said last year, Sawyer. Time to stop being cheap and

buy a new one.” He laughs as he grabs his tool pouch.

I actually meant to have him install a new one a few weeks back, but Quinn

ended up booking the place and time got away from me.

“Spoke to Colton Slade the other day. Says you boys are moving forward with the restaurant.”

I nod, not really wanting to talk about my business with Jack. I love the old

man, but he’s a hell of a gossip in this town.

“Something like that,” I say as I help him.

“Those boys keep having babies. Makes me wonder when you’re going to settle down again and have one. Not gettin’ any younger.” I roll my eyes even though I know he means well. “Shirley always asks about you, ya know. She’s

always sayin’ we need to have Sawyer over for dinner.”

I really like Nelsons, I do, but Shirley has been trying to set me up with their

niece for the better part of two years, and Jack is always trying to get me involved in some town project. He even wanted me to serve on the city council.

No thanks.

“Well, I appreciate that, Jack, really . . . but I’m pretty busy right now.

Between my businesses and the restaurant you mentioned, my plate is pretty full.”

I think Jack always felt like he needed to step up after my pops died. I appreciate the effort, but I’m a grown-ass man and I don’t need people meddling

in my business.

We spend the next hour working on the generator, and just like always, Jack

gets it back up and running. I walk him out to his truck and shake his hand, “Just send me a bill, Jack. I’ll get you paid.”

“Nonsense, boy. You know your money’s no good to me. You just repay me

and the missus by coming over for dinner sometime before we’re both dead and

gone.” He laughs and slaps my shoulder before firing up his truck and backing

out of the driveway.

I stand there in the cold for a few minutes just thinking about how Quinn will

be moving back downstairs tonight. I don’t want her to go, but I don’t know how

to ask her to stay. I make my way up the driveway. The sun is setting and my stomach is growling. I’ve spent the better part of the day outside and nothing sounds better than a warm meal and shower. Well, almost nothing.

When I step in the house, my eyes fall to the suitcase I set inside earlier. I should just tell her now before I do something stupid. I should get her out of my space so I’m not constantly tempted to lose myself in her. I reach for her suitcase, and I’m about to tell her the generator is back on, when she spins around with a huge smile on her face.

She’s standing at my stove, wearing an apron and wielding a spatula. “I hope

you like pancakes for dinner. You didn’t have a lot of options.” The apron says Real Men Love Their Pork Pulled. It was a silly gift from Justine one Christmas.

“Sounds good to me.” The words catch in my throat when I see the apron. At

first I’m pissed that she feels comfortable enough to snoop through my kitchen

and find that. I don’t even remember where I put it last. But the anger quickly turns to something else when I see how good she looks in my space—how natural and relaxed her smile is as she dishes me up a warm meal.

“Sorry, I found this hanging in the pantry. I hope it’s okay I’m wearing it?”

She looks down at the apron and giggles. “It really is pretty funny.” She spins back around to finish flipping the pancakes.

Fuck it. I decide against telling her about the generator. Instead, I slowly walk toward her and slip my arms around her waist. “You look amazing in it.

Actually, I’d like to see you wearing it and nothing else.”

I lean down and nibble her ear as her head lolls to one side, giving me better

access. I grip her hips and pull her so that her firm ass is pressed up against my groin. I grind against her for a moment, letting her feel just how rigid I am. I run my hands up her sides, slipping them beneath the apron and cupping her breasts.

She drops the spatula on the counter next to the stove, the clanging snapping me

back to reality.

“Eat first, then we talk,” I say as I step away from her and head to the shower

to calm down.

ELEVEN

QUINN

I stand at the stove for a moment, completely lost in Sawyer’s touch before I

switch off the stove and remove the last few pancakes from the griddle. My

stomach feels like a beehive, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Sawyer’s

words echo in my head as I set the table and plate up our dinner. I also make a

mental note to hopefully head into town tomorrow to pick up some groceries.

Dinner is quiet—too quiet. He seems to be in a mood again.

“Jack fixed the generator,” he says before shoveling a large bite of pancake

into his mouth.

“Oh.” I’m unsure of what to say or what this means. Is this his way of saying

get the hell out of my house?

We both finish eating in silence. “I’ll clean up,” he says as I grab my plate

and place it in the kitchen sink. I suddenly feel uncomfortable, like I’m infringing on his personal space.

“I’ll grab my things from the spare bedroom and head back downstairs.

Thanks again for letting me stay in here with you.” I feel like I did something wrong and I don’t know why. I turn to walk back to my room with my tail between my legs.

“I’d give it some time. Needs to warm back up down there.”

I close the door behind me and grab my laptop. I know writing a romance novel when you’re a virgin is pretty laughable, but the things Sawyer says to me

set the pages on fire. I hear the balcony door slide open and shut and I’m tempted to go talk to him about earlier, but I don’t want to ruin my momentum.

The words flow out of me.

When I finally take a break, I grab my phone and check the time. It’s going

on 9 p.m. I didn’t realize I’d been writing so long, and it strikes me that I never heard the balcony door open again. Is he still outside in the cold? I shut my laptop and grab a hoodie before exiting my room and making my way toward the

balcony.

I slide the door open and see Sawyer sitting in the dark. He looks relaxed, with his legs propped up on the railing and a tumbler of whiskey in one hand.

“Oh, hey, what are you doing out here?”

“Enjoying the peace and quiet,” he says before lifting the glass to his mouth

and taking a long drink.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say as I turn to head back inside.

“Stay.”

I look around the balcony and see something covered in a tarp.

“What’s that?”

“Look under it.” He gestures with his glass.

I pull up the tarp and see a telescope. “I don’t really know much about astronomy. Is it a hobby of yours?”

“Yeah, something I learned from my dad.” This is the first time he’s

mentioned anything personal.

“Does he live around here?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond right away.

“It’s too cloudy tonight to see anything, but when it’s clear, I can show you

how to use it.”

He ignores my question and I can tell that it’s a sensitive subject, so I don’t

press. I feel nervous around him, so I walk around a bit more before he stands up and pulls the other chair closer to him and gestures for me to take a seat.

“What did you mean the other day when you said I have no idea what I’m in

for?” The words fall from my mouth before I can stop myself.

He lets out a long sigh before chuckling. “Do you ever stop talking?”

I’m not in the mood for his emotional whiplash tonight. I stand up and make

my way toward the sliding glass door before he barks out, “Sit your ass down.”

I freeze. I want to turn around and tell him to go to hell, but my body won’t

let me. I stand there for a few more seconds holding on to the door handle.

“I said sit your pretty little ass down.” His voice is deep and commanding and causes my stomach to do that somersault thing again. I let go of the door and sit back down.

“I’m just giving you a hard time, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you seem to like doing that,” I reply before standing up again and walking over to the railing. I lean my elbows on it as I look out over the ravine.

It’s pitch black out here, with no city lights to illuminate the surroundings or warn you of danger.

I hear his chair scratch against the wood of the balcony and footsteps as he

moves closer to me. He comes to a halt behind me, placing a hand on either side

of my elbows and leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“I meant that I know you won’t say no to whatever I want to do to you.”

“Excuse me?” I say as I spin around and come face-to-face with him. His breath is coming out in hot puffs against my face and I can smell the whiskey on

his breath. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” My back stiffens

but I leave my arms at my sides. I know if I touch him, he’ll be right and I’ll melt in his arms.

“Yeah, I do,” he says with a smirk.

“Why are you always so moody and reclusive?” He doesn’t answer me—

instead, he leans in and runs his tongue up my neck, causing my entire body to

shiver. “You’re deflecting,” I say, but it’s barely a whisper. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of his warmth against me.

“You’re telling me that if I told you I want to pull those tiny lace panties off

your ass with my teeth, you’d say no?”

Holy shit. I’m pretty sure my stomach just did a triple axel. I squeeze my thighs together.

“I could say no. Easily.”

“Then why haven’t you?” he says as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth.

My hands dart up and tangle in his hair as I pull him closer to me.

“Tell me you want it, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” I mumble as I fist his hair. I don’t even know

what I’m saying at this point. I just want him inside me now.

He spins me around and walks me backward until my back hits the porch wall. I grab at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and ripping it open—sending buttons scattering over the wood planks. I reach out and run my hands over his

chest and abs. I want to see him but it’s too dark.

“I want—” I say, but don’t finish the statement. I run my hands over his body

as he deepens the kiss. He tilts my head with both of his hands as he grinds his

rock-hard cock against my center, the friction causing pleasure to build.

“What do you want?”

I don’t respond, I just continue to grab at him frantically, trying to get him closer.

“Tell me, baby.” Oh God, the way he says baby has me quivering.

“I want to see you,” I say shyly. He stops what he’s doing and steps away from me. I panic and reach for him, thinking I’ve ruined the moment. Instead, he

opens the glass door and playfully drags me inside and down the hallway toward

his bedroom.

Once inside, he flicks on the light and pushes me backward until I fall on his

bed. I watch him intently as he removes his shirt. My mouth goes dry as I see his chiseled body. He has a trail of dirty blond hair that goes from his chest to his stomach, finally disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

I know my mouth is hanging open as I watch his muscles ripple with his movements. His chest is massive and his shoulders look like boulders. He’s muscular and ripped, but his body looks like it was built by hard manual labor . .

. not the gym.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks as he kicks off his shoes and socks and

reaches for his belt. I nod slowly as I bite my bottom lip—just waiting for him to remove his pants.

He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants before stopping. I look at him,

confused, before he grabs my ankles and pulls me forcefully toward him.

“My turn,” he says as he reaches down and pulls my shirt over my head in an

instant. I don’t have time to be embarrassed or shy. He undoes my jeans and pulls them down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my sheer bra and panties.

“If you only knew the filthy fucking things I want to do to you.” I watch as he slowly rakes his eyes over my body. I can see his jaw flex as his tongue glides

slowly across his bottom lip. “You make my fucking mouth water.”

He leans down and kisses me again. It’s forceful and heated. I moan into his

lips as his hand cups my breast. I reach down between us and slip my hand down

his jeans, gripping his cock and pumping my hand up and down a few times.

He breaks the kiss and his head hangs forward as I continue to stroke him.

“Fuck me, baby, that feels good,” he grunts as he takes my mouth again. He feels

like silk in my hands, so soft and yet so incredibly hard. He thrusts his hips in time with my strokes and the thought of him pumping into me has me ready to

explode.

Suddenly, he steps away and breaks our contact, “This is about you, not me.”

He tells me to move up the bed as he climbs on top of me, kissing his way up my

stomach to my breasts.

I inhale a shaky breath as he pulls the cups of my bra down, revealing my breasts. He licks my nipples teasingly before popping one in his mouth and sucking hard. I moan and my back arches off the bed as he pinches my other nipple between two fingers. I’ve never had a man be so gentle and yet rough at

the same time. It has my head spinning.

He continues to tease and lick my nipples, pinching and biting them as his other hand dips lower. I expect him to tease me, but he doesn’t. His hand delves

straight into my panties and between my folds.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he says as he looks up at me. I let my head fall

back against the pillows as he slowly runs his fingers up and down my slit, circling my clit.

“Are you going to let me fuck you with my tongue, baby?” The words send a

shock through my body. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra before dragging the straps slowly down my arms, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on

each nipple before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my panties.

“You don’t need these,” he says as he slowly drags them down my thighs.

I’m lying on his bed, fully exposed as he looks me over. He stands up and runs

his hand over his beard. I glance down at his crotch and it looks painful to see

him straining so hard against the denim. He grabs it and adjusts himself. “Don’t worry about that, baby. We’ll get to it.”

He reaches down and grabs my right leg, bending it and placing my foot flat

on the bed before doing the same with my left leg. I’ve never felt so exposed and open before. He places a hand on either thigh and spreads them even further apart as he licks his lips.

“Look at that glistening pussy. So beautiful.” I gasp at his boldness. “Don’t

be ashamed, baby. You’re wet for me and that has me so turned on. Just let me

taste you, okay?” I nod as he dips his head and runs his nose right up my center.

I close my eyes and relax as his tongue runs up the length of me. I feel my

thighs instinctively try to close, but he holds them open. He doesn’t stop. He runs his tongue up and down me a few more times before he starts to kiss me like he kisses my lips—only stopping to suck my clit into his mouth.

“Sawyer, oh God!” I shout as I fist the bedsheets in my hands. His tongue delves inside me and I let out an animalistic sound I’ve never heard myself make

before. He continues his oral exploration, his tongue lapping and licking at me like he’s a starving man.

I can feel my pleasure mounting and building as a thin layer of sweat breaks

out on my body. I press my thighs against his broad shoulders.

“I—I’m going to—” The words get caught in my throat as he swirls his tongue around my clit over and over again.

“Yes, yes, yes!” is all I can say as it finally happens. My eyes squeeze tight

and stars burst beneath my eyelids. My body convulses as waves of pleasure overtake me and I ride out my orgasm.

I lie on his bed trying to catch my breath as he kisses his way back up my body. His lips and beard are wet with my release and I’m almost embarrassed. I

feel my cheeks get warmer, but thankfully, I’m already flushed from my orgasm.

“Mmm, thank you, baby,” he mumbles in my ear as he sucks my earlobe into

his mouth. He drags his hand up my thigh before slipping it back between them.

I groan as he nips at the lobe. “I need to hear you come again.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His tongue dances with my own before he brings

his finger up to my mouth and slips it past my lips. “Suck.” I do as I’m told

before he removes it again and slowly slips it inside me.

My mouth falls open as I feel myself tighten around his finger. He leans down and kisses me again as he picks up speed with his motion. “This is going

to be my cock soon, baby. I’m going to fill you up and pump into you so deeply.

Think you can handle that?”

Between his words and what his hand is doing, I can’t form a thought let alone a response. I just moan and kiss him harder as his thumb makes tiny circles on my clit. I can feel my pleasure building again as it tears through my body. I

push my head back into the pillow as I shout his name in ecstasy.

“Now that’s an image I’ve been dying to see. You naked in my bed with my

name on your lips.” He kisses me softly.

I wrap my legs around his waist, needing him closer to me as I place a hand

on either side of his face. “Make love to me, Sawyer.”

The moment the words leave my lips, I feel like I’ve stepped into a cold shower. The heat and passion in his eyes seem to vanish and he grabs his phone,

which is lying on the bed next to us.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing his phone and stepping out of the room.

What the fuck just happened?

TWELVE

SAWYER

I t killed me to step away from Quinn like that, especially when she was so

eager to let me please her, but the words that came out of her mouth combined with the text I just saw from Drake was like a bucket of ice water on

my dick.

Make love to me, Sawyer. I can still hear the words tumbling from her perfect, swollen lips. I haven’t made love to a woman in God knows how long.

What Justine and I used to do wasn’t even making love during the last year of

our marriage. The way Quinn looked at me made my heart feel like it was about

to explode. It was more than just sex or post-orgasm bliss. She wants more. How

can I make love to her when I can’t even admit to myself that I have feelings for her?

The worst part isn’t that she wants more, it’s that I want more too, but I know

I can’t give it to her. I hate the fact that I’d be using her. That I’d take what I want from her and it would be purely physical. Maybe that phrase doesn’t mean

the same thing to her—perhaps it’s just another way of saying sex or fucking. To me, it implies more. A connection.

I stare down at the text from Drake, reading it over and over again.

DRAKE

Saw Justine today. Call me.

My thumb hovers over the CALL button before I press it.

“Hey, man, sorry for the random text, but figured you’d want to know.”

“All good. So, what’s the situation?” I ask as I shut my bedroom door and walk down the hall so Quinn can’t overhear our conversation.

“Well, she came by Celeste’s law office. Apparently, she wanted some legal

advice. And no, this isn’t attorney-client privilege. Celeste would never violate that. She point-blank asked Justine if she was hiring her, and she said no, she just wanted to ask her a few questions if that was okay. Celeste even warned her that

it wouldn’t be protected, and she said it was fine.”

“Well, what the fuck did she say?” I don’t care about all the legal bullshit.

“She asked Celeste about child support and a paternity test and if the courts

would require it.”

“What’s this got to do with me? I knew Tanner wouldn’t stick around. Told

her as much.” I run my hand through my hair, and my good mood is quickly fading. I fucking hate the fact that my name is still being brought into all this bullshit. Justine chose Tanner, fucked him behind my back, had his baby, and left me. End of story.

“Well, that’s the thing, man . . . she says that the baby isn’t Tanner’s. She says it’s yours.”

I feel like my heart just dropped to my ass.

“You still there, buddy?” I hear Drake’s voice, but it sounds faint. I feel like

my ears are filling with rushing water and the room starts to spin. I place my hand and forehead against the cool glass of the sliding door and take a few deep

breaths.

“If I’m honest, I feel like she’s full of shit. Rumor has it Tanner did leave her and the baby, and she’s grasping for straws here, Sawyer. I wouldn’t put too much weight into what she’s saying, but I figured you should know what kind of

rumors she’s spreading. Better to get ahead of it before it becomes a full-on four-alarm fire.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I don’t even know what to say. In reality, what

Drake just said is probably correct. I’m sure she’s just back here trying to get me to take care of her and the baby since Tanner bolted.

“Sorry, man, I really am.”

“Not your fault,” I say to him before we hang up.

I stand in the living room for I don’t know how long. I pour myself a glass of

whiskey and down it, followed by another. Of course around the time something

good comes into my life, it all comes tumbling down.

I poke at the fire and throw a few more logs on it. You know what? Fuck Justine and fuck her bullshit. Until she has the guts to come here and tell me to my face, I’m living my life. I won’t keep falling for her bullshit lies. She broke my heart once before, used me, and threw me away like I didn’t matter.

I finish the second glass of whiskey and set it on the table before walking back to my bedroom. All I want to do is bury myself in Quinn and forget about

this mess.

I open the door and see her curled up under the blankets. One hand is beneath the pillow she’s resting her head on, and her beautiful auburn hair is splayed out around her. She’s asleep. I watch her for a moment before I kick off

my jeans, turn off the light, and climb in behind her.

I snake my arm around her waist and pull her against me. Her warmth is calming. I can feel my heart rate slow as I bury my nose in her hair.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper against her neck. I place a soft kiss against

her skin as she lets out a sigh. I know this is fucked up. I know I’m going to hurt someone, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

WHEN I WAKE the next morning, I roll over only to be greeted by a cold spot

where Quinn previously slept. I sit up and stretch, looking around the room and

in the bathroom. No Quinn. I make my way out to the kitchen, but she’s not there either. I see freshly brewed coffee and pour myself a cup before walking back down the hall to knock on the spare bedroom door.

When I approach the room, I notice the door is cracked. I knock and it opens,

slightly revealing an empty room. I step inside, and sure enough, all of Quinn’s

belongings are gone.

“What the fuck?”

I place the mug on the counter and put on my boots and coat, not even bothering with a shirt before jogging down to the lower level. I bang on the door.

“Quinn, you in there?” I wait patiently but don’t hear anything on the other

side. I check the handle and it’s unlocked. I open the door and step inside just as Quinn is rounding the corner of the living area.

“Oh my God, you scared me! Knock much?”

Gone is the warm demeanor from last night, and it hits me. She’s pissed. I don’t blame her. I got her naked in my bed then bailed on her.

“Quinn, look, it’s not what you think.” I reach out to grab her hand, but she

pulls it away.

“And how would you know what I think? You never ask me. You never seem

to care about how all this makes me feel.” She’s not wrong.

“How all what makes you feel?”

“Seriously? The hot and cold, Sawyer.” She lets out an exasperated sigh and

throws her hands up in the air. “One minute you’re all over me and the next you

act like I don’t exist. I can never tell if I’m pissing you off or in your space.”

“You’re not any of those things. You paid to stay here.”

“Exactly, and that’s why I moved my stuff back down here. To remind us both that I’m your tenant, not your girlfriend.” She spits out the last word like it’s acid and it pisses me off. I know I have no right to be angry or offended, but she acts like it would be the end of the world if she were my girlfriend.

I don’t know what to say, so I turn to walk out of the cabin and put some distance between us. I’m not going to fight with her.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” I say. I know, real mature.

“Typical,” she huffs.

“What, Quinn? Just say whatever the fuck it is you want to say.”

“I need to go to town. I feel like I’m going stir-crazy in here and I need some

stuff.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and I will myself not to look at her breasts pushing together, but I fail. I see her eyes follow mine and she just rolls them at me.

“Your car won’t make it down the mountain. We can take my truck.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. You’re not on the insurance. Either I take you or you can walk.”

“Fine,” she says.

“Fine.” I turn to leave—this time for real. “I need to shovel some snow first.

Be ready in an hour.” I slam the door on the way out. “Fucking women,” I mutter as I march toward the shed to pull out the snow blower. This right here is exactly why I live alone on this goddamn mountain and exactly why that will never change.

AN HOUR LATER, I’m knocking on her door again when it swings open mid-

knock.

“You’re late,” she snaps.

“Didn’t realize we had a timetable.”

“You said be ready in an hour and it’s been an hour and 15 minutes.”

She locks the door behind us before we walk toward the truck. I want to be

pissed at her, but I can’t. She’s actually pretty cute when she’s mad.

“Jesus, woman, is this how it’s going to be now?” I stop and throw my hands

in the air, but she just brushes past me and keeps walking. I take the opportunity to watch her delicious ass move in her leggings.

“Fuck me, are those even legal to wear?” The black material is stretched tight across her hips and ass and it takes everything I have not to lean down and take a bite out of her juicy peach. I don’t even realize I’m saying something until she stops dead in her tracks and turns around.

“What did you say?”

Oops, I thought I said that in my head. “You heard me.” Instead of

apologizing or trying to cover my tracks, I double down. “Whatever those things

are that you’re wearing should be illegal. You’re just asking to get fucked by me.”

I see a faint pink blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. “We both know you’re all talk, Sawyer,” she says as she opens the door to my truck and climbs

inside. She slams it before I can close it for her.

I climb in the driver’s seat and turn to face her. “I fucked up, okay? I got a

text from my buddy Drake last night about something important that I had to handle. That’s why I stepped away from you. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad or

hurt your feelings,” I lie. Yes, the Drake part was true, but I left out the part about her asking me to make love to her and what that did to my head.

“Apology accepted.”

We drive down the mountain, and for the most part, the ride is silent. We’re

pulling down Main Street when Quinn asks me, “Are you going to the Fall Fest?”

I knew the big banner hanging across the street would probably trigger the question. I grunt a non-response and search for a parking spot. The sun is out and what’s left of the snow is pulled off to the sides of streets and parking lots.

“Wow, it’s so nice down the mountain,” she says.

I pull the truck into a spot outside the grocery store and walk around to open

her door. I help her out, and the tension between us is still there—the good kind of tension. Her body slides down mine and I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at

me.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask as my eyes drop down so she knows what I’m talking about.

“You’re asking me about my vagina right now? Really?”

I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh. She’s such a spitfire when she wants to be. “Yes, I am.” I narrow my gaze and look at her intently. I can see the boldness she displayed a few seconds ago start to dissipate as the blush creeps back in.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt.” She licks her lips nervously.

“We’ll have to remedy that,” I whisper before planting a soft kiss on her lips.

She doesn’t say anything as I usher her forward and close the door of the truck.

Once inside, she grabs a basket and we walk around the store while she asks

me if I like certain items while placing them in the basket.

“Sawyer?” I turn around to see my buddy Carson standing in the aisle with his daughter, Margo. “Hey man, been meaning to call you. I’ve got a project you

might be interested in.”

“Hey, Carson. Yeah, I’d love to hear about that.” I also say hi to Margo, who

quickly walks over to where Quinn is standing a few feet away.

“Hi, I’m Margo, who are you?” She thrusts her hand toward Quinn, who’s smiling already.

“Hi, Margo, I’m Quinn.”

“Carson, this is Quinn. She’s renting the lower level from me for a few months.”

They shake hands and I see Carson flash me a knowing smirk when Quinn

turns back to Margo. I just roll my eyes and shake my head at him as if to say

don’t fucking start.

I’ve known Carson for about a year now. He moved to town from Chicago

after his wife died in a pretty tragic accident. He met Violet, who owns the Bean

& Bun, and they pretty quickly fell in love and got married. His daughter Margo from his first marriage has never met a stranger, and by the way she and Quinn

are already walking around hand-in-hand, I’d say she’s made a best friend.

“Dad, can I show Quinn around the store?” Margo asks Carson. He looks at

me, then over to Quinn.

“I’d love to have some company,” she smiles. Carson gives her the okay and

the girls take off around the store.

The grocery store is small, so it only takes them about 15 minutes before they’re making their way back toward Carson and me just as Mrs. Nelson approaches me with her niece, Twyla.

“Oh, hello gentlemen. My, my, aren’t we looking handsome as usual? You’re

going to give this old lady a heart attack someday.” She fans herself and pretends to faint as Twyla laughs. I love Mrs. Nelson, I really do, but when you hear the

words “town gossip” and “meddlesome,” her name comes to mind.

She’s been trying to get Twyla and me together for a while now, and I can tell you that it’s not going to happen, even without Quinn in the picture. Twyla is a sweet girl, but that’s just it, she’s a girl. She’s barely 21, and I have no interest

in getting with another party girl. I learned my lesson with Justine.

Quinn and Margo come to a stop next to us as everyone says hello.

“Mrs. Nelson, Twyla, this is Quinn. She’s staying in town here for a few months.”

Mrs. Nelson extends her hand and offers up a warm smile, but I can see her

staring at me out of the corner of her eye.

“So you’re just passing through then, dear?” she asks while Twyla messes around on her phone, completely oblivious to what’s going on.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m here through the end of the year. I really love it here though.”

“Carson, sweetheart, how are Violet and the baby doin’?” Carson fills her in

on the baby and their growing family and I shoot a glance at Quinn.

“Well, ladies, Carson, it was great seeing you, but we’re done with our shopping, so we’re going to get out of here.”

I take Quinn by the elbow as we say our goodbyes and move toward the register. I just know this will set tongues a-wagging now that Mrs. Nelson saw

me with Quinn. Hey, maybe it will get that harebrained idea of Twyla and me out

of her head.

We pay for our things and turn to wave one more time to the ladies and Carson, who are still chatting, when Mrs. Nelson says, “Quinn, darling, I hope we see you at the Fall Fest tomorrow night. There’s always a nice array of bachelors.” She giggles and waves as we exit the store.

Our drive home is silent and it’s eating at me. I want to know what’s on Quinn’s mind. She’s never this quiet. I help her take her groceries to her cabin, and as I’m turning to walk away, she speaks up.

“Hey, can I use your truck tomorrow for the Fall Fest, or do you think my car

will be able to get down the mountain?”

I instantly feel my blood pressure skyrocket. Mrs. Nelson’s words about all

the eligible bachelors hanging around ring in my ears. I know it’s true, because

when I was growing up, I was one of the douchebags who went to pick up the

local girls and the tourists.

“I can drive you. That car won’t make it.”

“It’s really not a big deal. I’ll call Pearl and see if she or Jade can pick me up.”

“I said I’ll drive you. No sense in us taking two different vehicles.” I turn to

leave the cabin.

“You said you weren’t going. What changed between now and earlier?”

I spin and walk back to her. “Never said I wasn’t goin’, darlin’. I’m taking

you. But I’m tellin’ you right now, you better not think you’re wearing these to

the dance, or we won’t make it out the driveway.” I reach around and grab a handful of her ass while I shove my tongue down her throat.

If she thinks for one second that I’m letting another man put his fuckin’

hands on her, she’s got another thing coming.

THIRTEEN

QUINN

“W ell, what do you think?” I ask Sawyer as I spin around in the red

dress I showed the girls earlier. It might be a little cool to wear it,

but it’s back up in the high 60s and I have a little white denim jacket I can throw over it. “Is it okay for the Fall Fest?”

Sawyer is just staring at me as I double-check my reflection in the mirror.

“It’s fine, but you might be cold,” he mutters.

I can see that he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care. But what he doesn’t realize is that I can see him in the mirror. I watch how his gaze lingers on my legs before slowly climbing up my body.

Good, I think, I want him to eat his heart out. His back-and-forth games of wanting me and then pushing me away are getting a little old. Tonight I’m going

to dance, have a good time, and he can kick rocks if he thinks he has a say in it.

“Great, then let’s go!” I say as I grab my jacket and walk toward the front door. “You positive you want to go? You don’t have to be my babysitter.”

He throws an arm up across the doorframe to stop me from leaving, “That’s

what you think this is?” The movement of his arm causes his scent to waft up,

and I inhale it deeply: the same woodsy sandalwood from the first night I met him. He’s swapped out his signature Henley or flannel for a crisp, navy blue button-down, dark denim jeans, and a dark brown belt. He looks mouthwatering.

I shrug, not letting him know that just being in his presence still has me shivering. “Well, you won’t let me drive your truck or my car, and you made it

pretty clear that social gatherings aren’t really your thing. Oh, and you also seem

to be super eager to run away from me every chance you get, sooo . . .”

He just stares at me for a moment before letting his hand drop and grabbing

mine. “Let’s just get this over with,” he sighs.

As soon as we park and walk into the big community center in the shape of a

barn, you can feel the energy bouncing off the walls. The place is decorated with orange, yellow, and red lights, there are several tables in the corner with a buffet, and I also see photo booths and a live DJ.

“Look at this place!” I say with excitement as I look up at Sawyer. He doesn’t seem impressed at all.

“I’m going to grab a beer. You want anything?” He motions toward the open

bar.

I glance around and see Pearl and Jade waving at me while throwing me a questioning look about arriving with Sawyer. “Uh, I’m good, but thanks. I’m going to go talk to the girls.”

“Oh my God, what the hell?!” Pearl is practically screaming as I approach.

“How did you get him here?” Jade asks. “Wink, wink, nudge, nudge,” she says while also dramatically doing the motions.

“Stop, you guys! He might hear you.” I grab their hands and usher them farther away from the bar where Sawyer is waiting for his beer.

“It’s not like that. My car probably wouldn’t be that safe driving down the mountains with all the snow, and he said he doesn’t have insurance that would allow me to drive his truck or something like that.”

“Yeah, ooookaaaay,” Jade says with another dramatic eye roll. “He could have let you call us or he could have dropped you off. He’s sticking around because of you.” She points at me, poking me in the chest.

I want so badly for that to be true, but he’s giving me zero clues that he actually wants to be here or hang out with me. I’m tempted to tell the girls about the fact that we kissed and sort of hooked up, but I also want to respect his privacy, which he seems very keen to protect.

“Hey, Quinn, this is Violet and Nina.” Two other women approach us, and I

remember Violet from the Bean & Bun.

“Hey, Violet, nice to see you again. Nina, lovely to meet you.” Each lady

gives me a sweet hug. “I met Violet and Willow on my first real day in town,” I explain.

“Oh, Willow is here, too. She’s over there by the bar talking to Celeste Slade.” Jade points at Willow, who sees me and waves with an enthusiastic smile.

“I just have to say you’re all so amazing and welcoming. I never expected this kind of hospitality.” I wipe away a tear as Jade, Pearl, Violet, and Nina all give me a big group hug.

“Okay, enough emotions, ladies. How about we get some drinks and get this

party started?” Jade says and we all cheer.

An hour and several drinks later, we’re having the time of our lives out on the dance floor. Jade and Pearl have introduced me to two different guys they want me to dance with. I take the first guy’s hand and head out to the dance floor for a spin. I get done and look over my shoulder to see Sawyer practically burning a hole through me with his gaze. He’s leaning against the bar and his beer has been switched out for a dark amber liquid in a glass—probably whiskey.

I’m tempted to walk over to him, but guy number two is grabbing my hand

and pulling me back out on the floor. I want to take a break and grab some water

since I feel a little lightheaded and could use some freshening up. The song comes to an end a few moments later, and I thank guy number two. He’s asking

me for my number right when I feel a strong presence behind me and see the guy’s eyes dart from mine to up over my head before he scurries off. I turn around and find I’m facing Sawyer’s chest.

“Having fun?” His tone is clipped and taciturn.

“Mm-hmm. You having fun hanging out by yourself and the booze?”

“I’m going to need all the lovers on the floor,” the DJ announces as “Come

Away With Me” by Norah Jones rolls through the speakers.

Without a word, Sawyer grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him, wrapping

his other arm tightly around my body. I hit his chest harder than I intended, causing me to exhale audibly.

“I didn’t tell you earlier, but you look absolutely breathtaking tonight,” he

whispers softly in my ear. I pull back and look at him.

“You look really nice too. You look great in blue,” I tell him.

He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he holds me close and our bodies move as one. Something in this moment feels different. It feels like we’re saying things with our eyes that we’ve been too afraid to admit out loud.

I feel like I’m falling and there’s nothing I can grab to save me or anchor me.

He tilts his head slightly and dips his chin down till our lips are only a few inches apart. I’m lost in the moment, completely drowning, and I don’t even want to be saved. I move an inch closer and I’m close to kissing him when the

song ends, breaking the spell.

We both stop, but he doesn’t let me go until I hear the DJ make some muffled announcement about raffle tickets, so I step back and put some space between us. Sawyer does the same before excusing himself and heading down a

hallway. I look around to see if anyone is watching us, and Pearl and Jade’s eyes are the size of saucers. Shit.

“OH. MY. GOD. Dude, this entire place was about to burst into flames!”

Pearl says as she grabs my hands.

I laugh and try to play it off, but I know that if they saw it, others did too, which is probably why Sawyer took off. I wait around for a few more minutes,

expecting Sawyer to reemerge, but he never does. The ladies introduce me to their husbands, Blake and Memphis, and Willow comes over to join us.

“Hey, girl, so glad to see you again!” She gives me a big hug and we talk about getting together soon for a wine night. We’re all standing around talking when two younger guys come walking into the bar with several children and two

other women.

“The Slade boys are here!” one of them shouts as the barn erupts in cheers.

“That’s Wyatt and Hudson Slade and their families. I think Drake and Colton

are already here somewhere.”

Pretty soon, the entire Slade gang is here and I’ve been introduced to all of

them. They’re a wild, fun bunch with so many kids it’s like an entire football team just arrived.

“Time for a partner swap hoedown!” Wyatt shouts, and the DJ throws on a

song I’ve never heard before. Before I know it, Wyatt is lifting me up by my waist and twirling me around. Pretty soon, Hudson has joined in and we’re all dancing and having a blast. The music is loud, the drinks are cold, and I couldn’t be having a better time . . . until I look over and see Sawyer has shown back up

and looks like he’s about to murder the entire Slade crew.

I brush it off. Screw him if he can’t join in for a little fun. I’m not about to

stop living my life just because he has a stick shoved up his ass about something.

I wave for him to come join us, but he turns and walks out of the building.

I excuse myself from the group dance and go in search of him. I step outside,

but I don’t see him. The temperature has dropped and I pull my jacket on even

though it does little to help. I’m about to go back inside when I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I turn and see Sawyer leaning up against the building.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothin’. I just don’t have the gift of gab and socialization like you.” He’s pouting. “Ten out of 10 on the flirting though. You’re a natural.”

“Excuse me?” I cross my arms over my chest as if that will protect me from

the sting of his words.

“Oh, please, Quinn, between the guys Pearl and Jade set you up with to the

Slade brothers, I’d say you have your pick.” He shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me.

“You’re a dick, you know that? I wouldn’t take a married man, and last time

I checked, all the Slade boys are taken. The ONLY man I was flirting with in there was you, but you have your head too far up your own ass to see it!” I don’t hold back and neither do the tears that threaten to fall. “You’re just jealous and bitter.”

The look in his eyes tells me my words stung him. I don’t know what comes

over me, but instead of slapping him or walking away, I fist his shirt and pull him to my mouth. I kiss him like my life depends on it—hard and fast. Our movements become frenzied like we can’t live without each other’s touch. He throws his beer bottle on the ground, and at the same time, lifts me up and spins me, pinning my back against the wall.

I gasp as I wrap my legs around his hips, his cock already hard and begging

to burst free. His tongue delves into my mouth over and over again as we take what we need from each other. I reach down between us, grabbing his manhood

through his jeans and squeezing. He lets out a moan against my mouth as I feel

his hips thrust forward against my hand.

“Take me home, Sawyer. I need you.” The words tumble from my lips as he

kisses down my neck—stopping just as he reaches the swell of my breast. His breathing is rapid, but I’m confused when he places one hand on either side of

me against the wall, causing me to slide down the front of his body.

“What’s wrong?” I’m afraid to move, afraid of severing the connection.

“I can’t,” is all he says.

“You can’t what?” His head hangs forward, resting against my own.

“I can’t be that guy for you, Quinn. There’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me, Sawyer, please.” I place a hand on either side of his face and

tilt it upward so he’s looking at me. “Please tell me.”

“I want you, but I shouldn’t want you, Quinn. I can’t want you.” His words

are like ice and I’m done with this.

Done with the games.

Done with the mixed signals.

I push against him, turn away, and wipe at the tears that have started to fall.

“You know what?” I turn back around and face him. “You’re just scared. I’m so

sick of the games and mixed emotions from you, Sawyer. One minute you want

me and the next you act like I don’t even exist. Well, I can take a fucking hint!”

“Quinn, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for that,” I practically spit out. “And don’t worry about giving

me a ride home. I’ll find one myself.”

I storm back inside and head straight to the restroom, where I let it out in private before fixing my makeup and heading back out to ask Pearl for a ride home.

FOURTEEN

SAWYER

I screwed up last night . . . royally.

I felt the jealousy creeping in the moment Quinn asked me how she

looked in that little dress. She looked like a damn delicious snack—but more than that, she looked positively radiant. I wanted to pull her into my arms in that moment and tell her to go to the Fall Fest as mine. Mine.

I let the fear of losing her cloud my judgment—not that I even had her to begin with. Watching her laugh and twirl around that dance floor in another man’s arms killed me. When I approached her for a dance, I was going to kiss

her in front of everyone. I wanted to mark her, to let the world know she belonged to me. But I froze and ruined the moment.

I lay in bed this morning staring up at the ceiling in my bedroom. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I can’t continue like this. I’m either going to snap and kill every man who looks twice at her, or I’ll drive her to snap and kill me.

I want her, and truthfully, I feel like I need her.

I pull the covers back, and the floor is freezing as my bare feet hit the wooden planks. I grab my slippers and walk over to the window.

“Shit.” Looks like we had another big snowfall up here in the mountains last

night. I trudge to the kitchen and turn the coffee pot on, standing there waiting for it to be ready. I’d give anything to see Quinn walking out of my spare bedroom this morning with her mussed-up hair and flannel cat pajamas. Hell, I

wish she were curled up in my bed right now.

I made sure Pearl texted me last night when she dropped off Quinn. I stayed in town and grabbed a drink at The Place with Drake and Colton Slade. We had

some business to discuss and I needed to cool off before I came home and did

something stupid like try to convince Quinn I’m not a complete fucking asshole.

I need to get a jump on shoveling and snow blowing this morning. I quickly

down a cup of coffee and shove some toast in my mouth before heading outside.

I’m about to go straight to the shed when I decide I should apologize to Quinn. I walk down the small flight of stairs to her door and knock. I don’t hear anything on the other side, so I knock again, louder.

A few seconds later, she opens the door wearing her cat pajamas, a thick blanket, boots, gloves, and a hat.

“What the hell?” I ask before stepping past her into the cabin.

“Excuse me, this is my private space. Just because you own the h⁠ —”

“Did the generator go out again?” I flip the light switch on and off and nothing happens. “Goddammit, Quinn, how long has it been out and why didn’t

you come tell me?”

“It happened in the middle of the night, Sawyer.” Her face tells me exactly

what I already know: that she’s still mad about last night.

“Go get your things. You can move back into my spare room until Jack can

come back out.”

“I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t a question, Quinn. It’s freezing in here. Literally. Don’t be stubborn just to make a point.” I can feel myself losing my patience.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a cheapskate and get a new generator or

whatever.”

She’s right. I absolutely plan on having Jack put in a new one when I call him later, but for now, arguing about it won’t do anyone any good.

I don’t say it again. Instead, I march past her and start gathering up her things. She flings the blanket off her shoulders and pushes me away from her suitcase.

“I said no, Sawyer!”

“Seriously? You’d rather freeze to death just to make a stupid fucking

point?”

“Why did you even come down here? What do you want?” She grabs the

blanket off the floor and wraps it around herself.

“I came down here to apologize about last night, but now I’m down here to

talk some sense into you.”

“Well, you can move on. I’d rather freeze down here than spend another second in that house with you.”

I roll my eyes and throw my hands in the air at her obstinance. “Suit yourself. Do me a favor, though. When Jack shows up later to fix things, don’t

be a complete dick to him too.”

I slam the door and make my way back up to the shed to deal with the snow

and call Jack. This woman is going to be the death of me.

I’VE SHOVELED, blown snow, and chopped wood for hours. I’m cold, hungry,

and tired, and it’s all I can do to finish stacking the rest of the wood I chopped. I hear the crunch of tires on the snow and look up to see Jack pulling in.

“Hey, son, looks like I was right after all.”

“Yeah, you usually are, Jack. Sorry for the emergency call today, but my tenant is as stubborn as a mule and refuses to stay in my spare bedroom.” I know

I’m oversharing, but I’m still frustrated with her. Actually, I’m frustrated with myself because I know she has every right to call me out on my bullshit.

“Not a problem, son. You’re in luck, actually. I was able to pick up a new generator in Loveland. Shouldn’t take too long to install.”

“Thanks again, Jack. I’ll grab some tools and help you out.”

I walk over to the shed and grab my toolbox, then Jack and I get the new generator out of the back of his truck and walk it down to the back of the cabin.

I knock on her door again, fully expecting to be greeted with a slap. No answer. I knock again. Still no answer.

“Well, she’s not answering, so she might have succumbed to the cold,” I

joke. I twist the handle and it pops open. “Quinn? Jack is here to install a new

generator.” I step inside and walk around, but it’s eerily quiet. “Quinn?” I walk around the rest of the cabin, but there’s no sign of her.

I step outside and walk down the balcony to look up the driveway and double-check that her car and my truck are still there. They are.

“Everything okay?” Jack asks as I start to panic.

“Yeah, I think so. I can’t find Quinn, my tenant. Our cars are both here, but I

don’t se⁠ —”

“There are tracks heading away from the steps—down the ravine,” Jack

points to the path of footprints.

“Shit!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. She went off in this snow? I know for a fact she has no business hiking in weather like this. Hell, she has no business hiking up here at all. She doesn’t know the land.

“Jack, I’m sorry, but I have to go search for her.”

“Not a problem, son. You need some help?”

“No thanks. I’ll be back in a bit. You going to be okay installing this alone?”

“Son, I’ve been doing this for the better part of 40 years.” He laughs and waves me on as I start following Quinn’s footprints.

I’VE BEEN TRUDGING through the snow for close to an hour now. It’s up past

my knees and I can’t feel my legs or feet. I’m trying to remain calm, but I’m starting to get nervous. If I’m wearing snow pants and waterproof boots and I’m

this cold, I can’t imagine how bad it must be for Quinn. What the fuck was she

thinking?

I shout her name but don’t hear anything except my own echo. I keep

walking when I hear sniffling.

“Quinn? Quinn, is that you?” I round a large cluster of trees and find a small

clearing where I see Quinn huddled on the ground.

“Quinn, what the hell, baby?” I ask as I run over to her.

“I—I’m no—not yo—” I cut her off before she says it. I know what she’s going to say. Even though she’s freezing to death, she still needs to have the last word.

“Come here.” I pull her up and tip her head back to see if she’s OK. Her teeth are chattering uncontrollably and her entire body is wracked with shivers.

“Hold on to me,” I say as I pick her up and start to carry her back up the hill.

“Sawyer, I—I’m fi—fine. I can wa—walk,” she stutters out.

“Don’t argue with me, Quinn. Not now.” I trudge the rest of the way up the

hill. I don’t know how I manage to have the strength or stamina, but I’m running

on pure adrenaline. I don’t want scare Quinn, but she’s risking serious injury right now—and even hypothermia.

I’ve seen it happen up here in the mountains more than once: a hiker not realizing how deep the snow is, how cold the winds can be, and most

importantly, how easy it is to get lost out here. If the elements don’t get you, a bear or a mountain lion very well might.

By the time we make it back up to the cabin, Jack is gone, but he left a note

on my front door that the generator is installed and running. I don’t put Quinn down as I open the front door and kick it closed behind me.

I set her down on her feet as I pull my gloves off with my teeth and unzip her

coat. I pull off her gloves, hat, and boots as her entire body continues to convulse in shivers.

“Stay,” I say as I run to the bathroom and turn the shower on hot to fill the

room with steam. I run back out to her and pick her up, carrying her into my bedroom.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Quinn?” I don’t mean for the words to sound so cruel, but I’m angry. I’m angry and scared at the thought of losing her.

I pull her sweater and bra off over her head and drag her soaked jeans down her

legs.

“I—I’m sorry,” her words are still coming out in staccato as a tear falls down

her cheek. She’s standing in front of me completely naked and crying.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” I say as I remove my own clothes in a hurried

fashion before pulling her to me. Her body is so cold. I wrap my arms around her and hold her for a moment before ushering her into the hot shower. The bathroom is full of steam, and I step us both into the shower and close the door. I hold her as the hot water pours over both of us.

I want to yell and scream at her for putting herself at risk like that—to tell her how scared I was at the thought of losing her—but it’s no use. It won’t do any good to fight about it. All I care about is warming her up and making sure

she’s okay.

I hold her tightly, pressing her skin to mine as we sink down into the tub. The

water is hot—too hot—and it’s not long before I feel myself sweating, but it’s what her body needs. We lie there for what feels like forever before her chattering and shivering have completely subsided and she’s starting to nod off

in my arms.

“Come here, sweetheart.” I pull her up and wrap her in a towel before drying

her off. I don’t have a hair dryer, so I dry her hair with the towel as much as I can. I carry her to the bed and climb in behind her, wrapping her body with mine

before we both drift off to sleep.

I wake to the feeling of something soft against my lips. I slowly open my eyes and see Quinn face-to-face with me. She has rolled over and pressed a soft

kiss to my lips. I have no idea how long we’ve been asleep or what time it is, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters in this moment is that Quinn is safe and healthy and in my arms.

I stare at her for a moment before she leans in and kisses me again. This time, I kiss her back. Neither of us breaks eye contact as our lips connect. She

softly slips her tongue between my lips. It’s enough to alert my dick, and I’m instantly hard. I slip my hand behind her neck and pull her closer, deepening the kiss.

She moans and wraps her leg around my hip, pulling us closer together.

“Quinn.” I don’t know what I’m saying, but I know what I want her to say.

“What do you want, baby?” My voice is thick with need and I don’t bother trying to hide it. I know she can feel my cock pressing against her, and I can feel her alert nipples pressed against my chest.

I roll her onto her back and hover above her before leaning down and kissing her passionately. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and bite it softly before twirling my tongue around hers. She gasps and her head lolls to the side for a moment, allowing me full access to her long, slender neck. I kiss and nibble my

way up her neck and across her chin before raising myself back up on my arms

to look down on her face.

“Fuck me, Sawyer.”

That’s all I need to hear. I’m done fighting. I’m going to claim her and make

her mine.

FIFTEEN

QUINN

I don’t know what I was thinking going off in the snow on my own. I was just

hurt. I needed to think—to figure out these thoughts and feelings I’m having.

Last night left me feeling so defeated and heartbroken. I thought we were making progress—like he was willing to admit he liked me. I don’t understand

why he fights it so much, or why he’s so scared.

I had intended to go for a short walk—to stay close to the cabin—but I got

turned around once I was in the woods. I was desperate and terrified and knew

I’d made a huge mistake. The moment I saw Sawyer, I expected him to chew me

out and tell me what an idiot I was. God knows I deserved it. But seeing the look on his face, I realized he was just as scared as I was.

I open my eyes and realize that I’m not in my bedroom, and I feel the warmth of his body against my own. It feels so good, so safe. I wiggle my toes

and fingers. I’ve regained all feeling—something I was worried about—and I check to make sure they all look pink and healthy.

Sawyer’s breath is coming out in small puffs against my ear. It’s deep and steady, telling me he’s asleep. I roll over to look at him and see his thick dirty blond hair has fallen haphazardly over one eye. I reach out and brush it away before running my fingertips down his cheek. He’s breathtaking.

He looks so peaceful and calm when he sleeps, unlike when he’s awake and

his face looks as though he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The thought tugs at my heart. I want so badly for him to open up to me.

“I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper before leaning in to gently press my

lips to his. His eyes shift rapidly beneath his eyelids before fluttering open. He stares at me for a moment and I wonder if he heard the words I just said. I lean in again and kiss him harder this time, letting my lips cover his. He kisses me back.

I feel him twitch against my leg and I want to reach down and take him in

my hand. I savor the moment a little longer as he deepens the kiss. I want to stay lost in this moment forever.

Our movements quickly escalate from soft and passionate to hungry and

needy. He rolls on top of me, and I feel like his eyes are going to pierce through me when he asks me what I want. I don’t hold back. I don’t try to disguise my

needs or desires.

“Fuck me, Sawyer,” I reply.

His eyes immediately darken as I feel his cock jump to attention beneath the

covers. He grabs my hands and pins them on either side of my face before leaning down and kissing me.

He positions himself completely on top of me as my thighs fall open,

allowing his hips to settle over mine. I groan into his mouth as I feel his hips thrust slightly forward, his rigid member rubbing against my clit.

He continues to kiss me, and the anticipation is building in my lower belly.

“Let me get you ready to take me, baby.” He trails kisses down my neck and chest, stopping only to suck my nipples into his mouth. I let out a gasp as his fingers find my clit and begin to slowly rub small circles against it.

He nips and sucks on my breasts, going back and forth between the two with

bites and licks. I’ve never responded like this to someone’s touch before. My entire body feels like it’s on pins and needles just from what his mouth is doing to me. I strain against his grip as I feel him tighten around my wrists.

He continues to trail his tongue down my stomach as I tense beneath his touch. He releases my wrists, and instinctively, my hands delve into his thick hair. I grip it firmly as his head dips lower and lower until I can feel the warmth of his breath as a whisper across my clit. He teases me, planting a kiss on my clit before softly blowing against it.

“Sawyer, please . . .” I don’t even recognize my voice as the words tumble

from my lips.

“Please what, baby?” He lifts his head and looks up at me with a big grin across his face.

“Please don’t stop,” I beg, and he dips his head back down. This time he doesn’t tease me. He laps at me—dragging his tongue right up between my folds

before sucking my clit into his mouth.

I moan loudly as my head falls back against the pillows and I release his hair

from my grip. He continues to lick me, adding a finger into the mix. He thrusts

the finger into my heat slowly at first, before slowly picking up momentum as he

kisses and licks me. The sensation is almost too much as I grip the pillow beneath me and let out a moan with my release, which echoes around the room.

This time, Sawyer doesn’t stop. He crawls back up my body, pressing his sticky lips to my own. I can taste my own release on them. He reaches over to

the bedside table and grabs a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before slipping it down his shaft. I watch intently; I’ve never seen a man put on a condom before.

This is the first time I’m seeing him fully naked, and my mouth waters. I wasn’t in the right state of mind earlier when we took a shower and bath together. My mouth drops open when I take in the size of him. I knew he was large when I gripped him before and my fingers failed to reach around his girth.

But in the light of day, with nothing between us, I can see he’s not only thick, but long—longer than I thought possible.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll work up to you taking all of me.”

I bite my bottom lip and nod slowly as he crawls back up my body.

“We’ll take it slow, I promise,” he says as he leans down and kisses me. The

moment his lips touch mine again, I feel my thighs fall open on their own and the tip of his dick pokes at my entrance.

He reaches down and grips the base. As he pushes harder, the pressure feels

foreign as he slowly enters me. “Just relax, baby.” He struggles to get the words out as his head falls forward. “Shit. Fuck, you’re so tight. Mmm.”

God, the way he talks already has me primed and ready to explode.

He grabs my wrists in one of his hands and pins them back over my head as

he pulls out of me and thrusts in again, a little more this time.

“Ahh!” I can’t help the yelp that escapes my lips as he pushes into me.

“Is it too much?” His words come out shaky.

“No, no, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” I lift my head and kiss him, gliding

my tongue into his mouth as my hips move in time with his.

We do this dance a few more times until he’s sliding in and out of me at a faster pace. I know I’m not even close to having all of him inside me, but it feels incredible now that I’ve gotten past the initial pressure of having such a large, hard dick inside me.

“Ohhh baby, that’s right. Take that cock, baby.” His words are like gasoline

on a fire—so filthy, so honest. I love hearing the thoughts that are in his head in this moment.

I can feel my pleasure building and I pull my hands free from Sawyer’s grip.

I want to feel him. I run my hands over his chest and arms as they flex with every thrust of his hips. I run my hands down the rigidness of his abs, feeling each one as I look down to see him sliding in and out of me.

“You like to look, baby? You like to see my big cock inside your wet pussy?”

Oh my God, I’m going to die of pleasure. I can’t talk, I just nod my head as I close my eyes and feel his thumb between us as it begins to circle my clit.

“Come for me, Quinn. Come on my cock.”

I’m done. I clench my eyes as tightly as I can and it’s like fireworks are exploding. My entire body goes rigid before wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me from my toes to the top of my head.

“That’s it, baby, ohhh yeah, baby.” I feel Sawyer’s movements grow more erratic as he palms one of my breasts before kissing the other. He thrusts two more times before falling back on his knees, freeing himself from me, pulling off the condom, and pumping his hand up and down his shaft. I watch him intently

as he groans and spills his seed all over my stomach. He falls forward, catching

himself on his left hand as his right pumps a few more times and a little more spills out onto me.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says as he looks down on me and sees himself all over my

stomach. His breathing is loud and heavy. He gets up and walks to the bathroom,

returning with a warm washcloth. He cleans me before tossing the washcloth on

the nightstand and sitting on the bed next to me.

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that, Quinn. It was your first time and I⁠ —”

I sit up and pull him to me, kissing him. He kisses me back before sitting next to me on the bed. I lie against his chest while his back is against the headboard.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he leans down, kisses the top of my head, and pulls the sheet up over our naked bodies.

“Mm-hmm,” is all I can muster at the moment. The pressure hurt for sure, but once I was wet and he had a good momentum going, I couldn’t believe how

amazing it felt. Plus his dirty talk had me going crazy. Just thinking about it right now already has me tingling.

“Are you sure? Tell me what you’re thinking.” He places his finger beneath

my chin and tilts my head upward.

“I liked it . . . a lot. It felt amazing.” I can feel myself start to feel embarrassed. I’ve never talked openly about sex or what I like with a partner before . . . or anyone, for that matter.

“What did you like?”

“All of it.”

“Quinn, sweetheart, this is how couples learn what they like. If you tell me

what you did or didn’t like, that’s how we make it better for each other.”

Couples? Did he just call us a couple?

“Why’d you apologize at the end?” I ask him.

“I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d be okay with me coming on you like that. I got caught up in the moment and just wanted to see you like that.” I feel his cock twitch.

“Why?” I pull myself up and face him. His eyes drop to my breasts and he

reaches up and cups both of them.

“Fuck, you’re so . . .” His words trail off as he leans forward and kisses me

while pinching my nipples. He grabs my hips and pulls me on top of him so I’m

straddling him. “I wanted to mark you. You have no idea how much it turns me

on to see my cum across your stomach. I’d love to cum on these tits too, but mostly, I want to fill you up with it.”

My belly clenches at the way he speaks to me. “I like what you say. The dirty talk.”

“Oh yeah?” He kisses me again. “Do you like when I tell you that I want to

see your pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock? That I want to fuck your mouth and watch you swallow me?” He rubs his thumb across my lip and I dart

my tongue out to lick it.

“Mmm, naughty girl,” he says before thrusting upward with his hips, causing

me to giggle. “You’ve got me ready for round two already.”

“I want more.” I run my hands down his chest before leaning forward and dragging my tongue down his neck and over his pecs.

“Slow down, baby girl, I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes are closed and he

does nothing to actually stop me, so I don’t. We spend the rest of the afternoon

making love—our bodies entangled as we both release all our anxiety in orgasm

after orgasm.

SIXTEEN

SAWYER

I t’s been two perfect weeks—something I never thought I’d say. It’s like

someone waved a magic wand and all the tension I’ve been feeling melted away. There haven’t been any new Justine sightings or rumors. Perhaps Tanner

popped back into her life and she doesn’t feel the need to come fuck mine up again.

Every second I spend with Quinn is a second I wish could last forever. I also

never thought I’d talk myself out of my head long enough to just let go and see

where things could go with Quinn and me. After our first afternoon together, it

felt like we never left our bedroom. Our bedroom? Did I just say that?

“What are you thinking about?” She languidly draws circles on my chest as

we lie in a hammock I hung up on the balcony. I bend my neck and kiss her head.

“You ever been to Rocky Mountain National Park?”

“I haven’t, but I’d love to.” She lays her head across my chest and I run my

hand through her hair.

“I love your hair. It’s such a beautiful color.” I wonder what hair color our kids would have. Whoa, that thought entered my head like it belonged there.

Like that’s an actual option for us. I flinch internally. I find myself having these moments where I get too comfortable, where I allow myself to dream about what

it would be like to actually pursue a life with Quinn. I don’t know where this is going and I’m too afraid to ask. Maybe I don’t want to be confronted with the reality that she’s still so young and naive—that she has an entire world ahead of

her that she should explore.

“Thank you. My mom was a redhead. She never colored her hair, and I guess

I just followed in her footsteps.” She doesn’t lift her head as she speaks. “I definitely got made fun for it when I was a kid. ‘Fire crotch’ was one of the boys’

favorites.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. She playfully pinches my belly and I grab

her hand, pulling it until she rolls toward me enough so I can kiss her.

Every time we kiss—or touch, for that matter—it’s an instant chemistry that

quickly escalates into more. Our tongues collide as we both get lost in each other for a moment. I pull back and cradle her face in my hands for a moment. “You’re

insatiable,” I murmur against her lips.

“You started it.”

“Fair enough. Okay, how about we head into town and grab something to eat?” I look at my watch, “It’s going on 5 p.m. Tomorrow I want to take you to

Rocky Mountain National Park and show you some of my favorite places to just

sit and watch the elk.”

She nods and climbs off of me. I instantly miss the heat and weight of her body against mine.

“It’s Halloween, you know. Should we dress up?” She’s got a big smile on her face.

“You got a costume?”

She taps her chin as if she’s thinking, “Nah, just some lacy undergarments.

Oh, maybe I could be a Playboy bunny?”

“Like hell you will!” I grab her wrist as she tries to run away, laughing.

“Nobody gets to see this,” I say as I grab her ass. It was meant to be a fun, sexy moment, but it quickly turns into something more. She stares up at me through

her long lashes, her eyes asking me to say what I’m thinking.

I won’t.

I can’t.

I don’t want to ruin this.

“Let’s hurry up and go down the mountain. The kids and their parents all walk around in their costumes and they do a community trick-or-treat event. It’s

cute.”

“Look at that, Sawyer Archer actually wanting to go into town, and he thinks

the kids are cuuuuute.” She’s teasing me and it instantly makes me uneasy. I try

not to let it show, but I think she catches on. “I’ll just be a few minutes. I’m going to freshen up and I’ll be ready to go,” she says and I nod.

I stare out the glass door overlooking the ravine. I know I need to tell her about my past—about Justine and Tanner—but the moment never feels right. I also don’t know if I actually need to tell her. If this is just a fling, then why open up and expose old wounds? The two times I’ve tried to ask her what her long-term plans are or where she sees herself, she just says she doesn’t know.

We make our way into town and park a few blocks away from The Place.

Dusk has settled and the street is full of families and children going from shop to shop with their buckets of candy. We walk hand-in-hand, something else that I just didn’t seem to think twice about with her. It feels . . . natural.

“Hi, Margo!” Quinn says as Margo runs up and throws her arms around her,

nearly knocking her over in the process. “Let me see your costume.”

Margo steps back and twirls just as Carson and Violet walk up with their son

Wilson, and they’re all in costume.

“Let me guess . . . Wednesday Addams?” Quinn asks her, and Margo jumps

up and down.

“And dad is Mr. Addams and mom is Mrs. Addams and Will is Pugsley!”

she says as she points to her family. It’s pretty cute that she calls Violet “mom,”

considering her real mom passed away when she was just a baby. It’s great to see

them so happy as a family.

“Gomez and Morticia, you look stunning.” Quinn laughs as she pinches baby

Will’s cheeks, causing him to giggle.

We say our goodbyes since Margo is anxious to continue on with her candy-

hunting journey. We resume our walk toward the restaurant.

“What about you? You ever thought about having kids?”

I feel my throat begin to close up and I’m not sure how to answer, so I keep

it as vague as possible. “I guess so. Hasn’t everyone?”

“I dunno. For a while I didn’t. I guess with everything that went on with my

mom being sick, I just put it out of my head.”

She watches as kids dressed as the Power Rangers run past us, and I can see

the longing in her eyes. She wants the white picket fence, the two kids, the cat . .

. she wants domesticated bliss, and all I can offer is solitude on a mountain.

“I hope you’re hungry, because Delilah always has her famous chicken pot pie on special during October and November.” I know I’m an asshole for changing the subject like that, but I don’t know what else to say.

We take a seat in a booth and each order a beer. They have the Slade Brewery Autumn Harvest Ale on tap this season and it’s fucking fantastic.

“So you were born and raised in the area, but did you ever dream about moving away? Or did you ever move away?” she asks.

“Nope. Never did and never wanted to. Both my parents are from here too . .

. or were from here, I should say. I guess in my head, the thought of leaving here is like leaving them behind. I know it doesn’t make much sense.” I take a sip of

my beer after the waitress sets it in front of me. We both order the pot pie and

Quinn reaches over and grabs my hand. I’ve noticed that’s something she likes to

do—hold my hand—and I love it.

“I understand. I actually felt a lot of guilt when I first booked your cabin. I

couldn’t think about it too much or I knew I’d back out. It was like—like I just

needed to hit a reset button. Nothing permanent, ya know? I knew I could always

come back in a second and it wasn’t like I was stuck in a mortgage or a lease.”

Those words right there are what have me holding back. I don’t want to ask

her to stay here—to give up her life back in Idaho. I know she has close family

there; she talks a lot about her cousin Gen and her daughter Olivia. I know she

also jokes about moving to Maui or Thailand and spending 10 hours a day in a

hammock by the beach. They might be jokes or a fantasy, but the truth is I don’t

know what she wants for her future, but I can’t imagine it’s a life in this town.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I was so close to my dad that when he finally did

pass, it was almost like a feeling of relief.”

She nods, knowing exactly what I mean. She went through the same thing with her mom. “I get it. I felt the same way. It’s relief, but also guilt for feeling relieved. You don’t realize the magnitude and heaviness of the burden you carry

when you’re caring for a dying parent. It’s like you don’t want them to suffer, and it kills you to watch them slowly die, but at the same time, the only relief for them would actually be death, which is worse for you.”

We both sit in silence for a moment just holding each other’s hands. I see a

swell of a tear on the edge of her eye and she quickly changes the subject.

“So, Rocky Mountain National Park, huh? I’m so excited. Will we be able to

pet the elk?”

I burst out laughing at this. God, I love this woman. Shit, fuck, did I just think those words?

THE ALARM GOES off before the sun is up, and Quinn is already pulling the

pillow over her head and moaning.

“Too early,” she mutters as she rolls over. I warned her that going to Rocky

Mountain National Park to see the elk meant that we’d need to get up early. It’s a three-hour drive and the line can be an hour long just to get into the park.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” I kiss the exposed portion of her neck. “I promise to

make sure you have a toe-curling orgasm in the shower,” I murmur against her

neck as I slide my hand up her inner thigh. I feel her relax into my touch as I slowly drag my fingers back and forth between her folds, circling her nub. She

moans and lets the pillow she’s clutching fall to the floor. I dip my head beneath the covers, continuing my movements with my fingers while slowly licking her

clit.

“Ohhh, yessss.” She grips my hair tightly, something I’ve learned she does when she’s close. I get her there, right on the edge, before I slowly remove my

hand and tongue from her very wet pussy.

“Wha—Why’d you stop? No!” she says as she grabs my hand and thrusts it

back under the covers.

“Come on, baby, I promise to make it up to you in the shower.” I know I have to bait her or she won’t get out of bed.

I pick her up and carry her to the bathroom, placing her on the counter while I slip my shirt she sleeps in over her head. I turn on the water and let it get warm while I stand between her thighs and kiss her mouth like I’m about to kiss her elsewhere. I drag my tongue down her naked body, stopping briefly at her breasts before kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of her.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” She obeys and I don’t waste any time diving in and tasting her. I can’t help but moan against her as I savor her sweet juices. “Fuck me, you taste so good.” I grab her ankles and place the bottoms of

her feet on the countertop so she’s fully exposed to me. “Don’t be shy, baby. I want to see how wet you are.” I stare up at her for a moment before I drink her

in. It’s less than a minute before she’s clawing at my hair and screaming my name. God, I’ll never get tired of the sound of her coming.

I don’t give her much of a break. As soon as I have her in the shower, I’m

bending her forward and placing her hands against the wall so I can enter her from behind. I don’t think twice before I slide deep inside her. It’s taken us almost two weeks to get her able to take all of me.

She moans and whimpers with each thrust, and I don’t go easy on her. I grip

her waist, and the sound of my hips slapping her ass just spurs me on. “Fuck yeah, baby, take that big cock like a good girl!” I fuck her hard and fast and she takes it. I’ve come to learn that as shy as she is, she likes me to take control. She likes it when I tell her every filthy thought I have, no matter how shocking it might be.

I fist her hair in my hand, causing her head to pull back so I can kiss her while I pump into her. “You like that, darlin’? You like when I’m rough with you?” She nods her head as her eyes roll back. She’s close and so am I. “I want

you walking around today sore, knowing it’s because my cock did this to you.”

I feel her insides tighten and squeeze me, and it’s in that moment that I realize I’m inside her without a condom. I panic, but not before I feel myself come undone. I pull out as quickly as I can and finish on her back. I look down

and see a bit of myself leaking out of her, and I hope I didn’t just completely fuck everything up.

I put the thought out of my head and the day at the park is incredible. We talk

and laugh on the drive up there, and I open up to her more about my dad and the restaurant plans I have with the Slade brothers. I tell her it won’t be open for a while, but she’s intent on being there for the grand opening. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to ask her if she plans on being here when her contract with

me is up, but I’m a pussy and I chicken out.

The day exhausts her. We go on a seven-mile hike and see herds of elk—her

first time ever seeing one. She takes about 15,000 pictures and I sneak a few of

her for myself. I love her seeing her mesmerized by the scenery, so I want to capture the moment forever.

It’s barely past 9 p.m. and she’s already fast asleep in my arms in front of the

fire. I look down at the peaceful expression on her face and I’m envious. I wish I could have that kind of peace. I watch the flames dance in the fire, and before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep.

In my dreams, I see Quinn smiling and happy, the wind whipping her hair around her face, her eyes shining like the sea. But all too quickly, it turns dark outside, and the sky is filled with angry crows. Quinn’s smile morphs into a frown and then a sob. Tears fall down her cheeks as she cries. She’s holding her

belly and I look down to see it’s round and full.

I snap awake and bolt upright, waking Quinn in the process. I’m covered in a

thin layer of sweat and I reach for my glass of water beside the chair, chugging

it.

“What’s wrong?” she mumbles.

“Nothing baby, go back to sleep.” I choke down the water and take several

deep breaths telling myself it was just a dream . . . just a dream.

SEVENTEEN

QUINN

I type away furiously on my laptop. I’m more than halfway finished with my

novel—I’m actually closer to 75 percent done and I can’t wait to give it to

Sawyer. We haven’t really talked about our future or what we’re doing at all, but this is going to be my chance to tell him how I feel.

The book is our love story, and in it, I don’t hold back. I want him to know

what he means to me, and it somehow feels easier to put it all out there on paper.

I want a life with him here in Grand Lake. I want to raise a family with him, because he’s the forever I’ve dreamt of my entire life.

It feels like something just flipped in our relationship. He was fighting his feelings for me so hard, but after he saved me from freezing to death a few weeks back, it’s like everything’s on the table. We’ve talked pretty extensively about our pasts. I’ve shared things with him about my mom and my dreams that

I’ve never told anyone, and he’s shared so much with me about losing both his

parents.

It sucks that we have a shared sadness in losing our parents, but at the same

time, it’s comforting knowing that he understands.

“Hey, baby, got a minute?” I spin around in my chair and am greeted by Sawyer leaning lazily against the doorjamb. He looks delicious in his worn jeans

and faded flannel shirt that’s unbuttoned.

“Hey, yourself, handsome.” I get up out of my chair and wrap my arms around his warm, firm stomach before I register the look on his face. “What’s wrong?” I ask as he pulls my arms off of him and takes a seat on the bed.

“Listen, yesterday morning when we were in the shower, I fucked up.” He runs his hands through his hair roughly.

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t wear a condom, and as much as I think—hope—I pulled out in time, I can’t be positive, so I wanted to be honest with you about it. I got carried away and I—I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” I have to admit that wasn’t what I was expecting at all, but I appreciate

that he mentioned it, I guess. “You don’t have to worry . . . I’m actually on birth control.”

“Oh, you are? I just thought since—well . . .” I can tell he doesn’t know how

to say it.

“Birth control isn’t just used for preventing pregnancy. I’ve had some . . .

issues in the past, and my doctor put me on it to help.”

He nods his head, “Well, still, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to be

disrespectful to your body and possibly fuck your life up with a kid.”

That last bit stings. Is that how he feels? That having a child with me would

be a fuck-up?

“Actually, I might not even be able to have kids,” I tell him. “With the health

problems I’ve had, the doctors have said I’d probably have a hard time conceiving.” I look down at my hands that I’m unconsciously wringing, and he

can sense my unease.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to bring up a tough subject.” He stands, pulling me in for a hug before kissing the top of my head. I bury my face in his

chest, inhaling his scent.

“Did you just smell me?” he asks.

I look up at him and he has a huge grin on his face. “Maybe.” He laughs as I

feel a blush burn my cheeks.

“Don’t feel embarrassed. I like the way you smell too.” He leans his head down and drags his nose up my neck. “Mmm, like vanilla, my favorite.” He nips

a little at my neck before planting a soft, lazy kiss on my lips.

“So, what are you writing?” he asks, glancing behind me at my laptop.

“You’ll have to wait and find out. Let’s just say it involves a very sexy

mountain man and lots of heat and passion between the sheets.” I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hmm, need some inspiration?” He backs me up until my legs hit the edge

of the bed, then grabs me around my waist and tosses me backward. I squeal as I

land on my back.

“Hey, don’t forget the girls are coming over for wine night,” I say between

kisses and gasps as he reaches under my shirt and squeezes a breast.

“We’ve got time.” He glances up at the clock on the bedside table before slowly and sweetly torturing me with his tongue.

The next 20 minutes goes by in a whirl of tongues and hands and moans of

pleasure. After I revealed I was on birth control, we decided not to have a barrier between us again, and it feels amazing.

We lie in each other’s arms afterward. My heart is racing and I suspect his is

too, because I can hear his breath. “Goddamn, woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs against the top of my head.

“Right back at ya.”

“Hey, about earlier . . .” He rolls over so he’s looking down on me. “I appreciate you sharing with me. I know that wasn’t easy and I’m sorry if I put

you in a position where you shared something you weren’t comfortable sharing.”

“Thank you. I guess I just assumed since we’re adults and doing . . .

whatever it is we’re doing . . . we might as well be open and honest with each

other.”

I wait for his response, but my words are just met with silence. I feel like he

has something he wants to say but doesn’t know how. I decide to say something

to help him feel more comfortable. “Look, I’m not asking you to define this right now if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just being open with you in sharing, and hoping that if and when you feel comfortable, you’ll do the same.”

“I like sharing with you,” he nods slowly. “I appreciate that you’ve listened

while I’ve talked about losing my parents, and the stress I’ve been feeling about the restaurant. Honestly, it means a lot.”

I’m unsure of what to say, so I just lift my head and kiss him. “You still have

to show me where you do all your magical woodworking.” I could see the

subject matter was getting a little heavy, so I changed the subject. I know he might not be ready to tell me how he feels about me, but I feel like as long as I show him how much he means to me, he’ll eventually feel comfortable enough

to do the same.

“Absolutely. I’ve got a few pieces in the works I’d love for you to see.

They’re for a couple over in Loveland. They wanted some custom outdoor pieces and I think you’ll like them.” He glances up at the clock. “Well, you’ve

got about 30 minutes until your friends get here. See? Told you I’d give you enough time to clean up. Or don’t. It’s kind of a big turn-on if I know you’re sitting there with my cum dripping out of you.” He practically growls the last part in my ear and I have to will myself not to attack him again.

As much as I know that Sawyer might not be ready to tell me how he feels

about me, I can feel it and sense it in the way he looks at me and kisses me. It’s only a matter of time, I tell myself.

IT’S 7 p.m. on the dot when I hear Pearl’s car come up the driveway. She barely

stops before all four doors spring open and out pop Violet, Willow, Jade, and Pearl—all with something in their hands. Jade and Pearl each have a few bottles

of wine, Violet has a big white box of what I assume are pastries from her bakery, and Willow has four pizza boxes.

“Jesus, you guys plan on staying here for a few days?” I laugh.

“Girl, we came prepared. Just call us the Girl Scouts of America,” Jade shouts as she lifts the bottles up in the air.

I take the girls around back and down to the lower level of the cabin. I haven’t officially told them that Sawyer and I are together . . . are we together?

Well, whatever it is, I haven’t told them, so I felt it best to camp out down here tonight. Plus, I didn’t want Sawyer to feel he had to leave his own home while

five soon-to-be-drunk women take over every inch of his personal space.

“So, how are things going? I’ve heard some . . . rumors.” Pearl looks at me

as I take a big bite of the pepperoni pizza.

“Rumors?” Willow asks.

“Yes, rumor has it that our little Quinn here is doing a little something with

Sawyer.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down and I can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, Quinn. I told Pearl I saw you guys on Halloween,” Violet apologizes.

“Don’t apologize; it wasn’t a secret. I mean, if it had been, then we did a pretty lousy job of hiding it since we were holding hands and have been on a few

dates around town.” I can’t hide the massive grin on my face as I do a little dance in my chair.

“Spill everything,” Willow demands.

“Everyone have a full glass of wine?” Violet asks as she grabs a bottle and

tops us all off. “Okay, now tell us.”

“So, um, yeah, I guess we’re, like, together?” I feel a bit silly, like I’m in middle school again talking about the time I kissed Jeremy Fellows. We snuck out behind where the buses parked, and it was pretty much the most innocent kiss you can imagine, but in my head, that was it: we were in love.

“You’re a couple?”

“Uh, I don’t really know.” I can see the confusion on their faces. “We haven’t

really defined anything, so we’re just taking it a day at a time.” I know it’s such a cliché and vague answer, but it’s the truth. Sure, if it were up to me, I’d be shouting I love you from the rooftops, but I also don’t want to rush anything.

“But you guys have . . . ?” Willow trails off and I feel myself blush.

“Look at her face, she’s so red. You know what that means!” I smack Pearl

playfully but she continues. “So, tell us the good stuff. Come on . . . what’s he like?”

“Oh my God, this is so awkward.” I’m embarrassed to tell them he was my

first. As much as I know they wouldn’t judge me, I just don’t want to open up

that can of worms. Sawyer and I haven’t even talked in detail about that yet. “It’s

. . . AMAZING!” I emphasize, and the girls all squeal.

“I knew it! When I watched you guys dancing at the Fall Fest, I told Pearl that the way that man knows how to move his hips so effortlessly, he can fuck

like nobody’s business.”

“Jesus, Willow!” Violet chokes out, nearly spraying wine out her nose.

I fill them in a little more about how things developed between us and how

I’m feeling about it, but I leave out the really juicy details. I feel like those are moments I only want to share with Sawyer.

“So, are you in love?” Jade raises her eyebrows.

“Uh, seems a little premature to say.”

“Quinn, when you know, you know, and there’s no shame in that.” Violet rubs my arm gently. She must be able to read my face, which is screaming, YES, YES, I’M IN LOVE!

“ Ugh, love.” Willow rolls her eyes before downing the rest of the wine in her glass and reaching for another bottle.

“Oh boy, here we go again.” Jade rolls her eyes and leans back against the couch.

“What’s going on?” I ask, confused.

“Willow is a bit of a Debbie Downer when it comes to love,” Violet

interjects.

“I’m not a Debbie Downer, I’m just jaded and bitter, okay? Get it right, ladies.” She says it with a huge grin on her face before abandoning her glass altogether and taking a big swig right out of the bottle.

“What’s the story?”

“It’s a really, really long story,” Willow says, “but let’s just say that if Landon Nash ever shows his face in this town again, I’m ripping his balls off and feeding them to a mountain lion.”

“Damn, that sounds dramatic,” I say with a laugh.

“Trust me, every time she tells the story, she has a new way she plans on torturing and dismembering Landon,” Violet says, shaking her head.

“I need more information. So he doesn’t live here anymore?”

Willow takes another big gulp of wine before setting down the bottle and standing up. “So, he was my first . . . everything, really. He was three years older than me and we met in high school. We started out flirting and he took me to prom. It was young love, but it was real. Pearl, I see you rolling your eyes over there.”

“Sorry,” she says with her hands in the air. “Carry on.”

“Landon was kind of the town bad boy . He had a weird home dynamic, and

honestly, we never talked about it. His dad lives in this massive old house way

out past the lake, and when I’d ask about his dad, he’d deflect. He got into normal trouble when we were younger—doing dumb shit like vandalism, plus he

had a minor weed charge—but nothing actually serious. Anyway, he had his own

apartment by the time we started dating. I was 17 and he was 20.”

I glance around the room, and as much as the other women teased Willow when she started her story, they all look like they have a touch of sadness in their eyes.

“I thought we were in love. We said as much and I gave him my virginity.” I

feel my own hand cover my heart as I realize the significance of that gesture.

“Things were going great other than the fact that we had to sneak around because I have three older brothers who hated Landon and have always been super-protective of me to begin with. One day I woke up and there was a note on

my windowsill that just said I’m sorry. And that was it.”

“That was it? You never saw him again?” I’m shocked.

“Nope. I couldn’t seem to get any answers around town. I asked, but no one

knew where he went.”

“You didn’t ask his dad?”

“No. I was too scared to go to his house. There were a lot of rumors about

that place.”

“Weren’t you worried that something had happened to him? Is he still . . .”

“Alive? Yeah, I heard rumors over the years that he was spotted around, but I

never saw him. Once I healed from that and got over the trauma of basically having my heart ripped out by my first love, I just closed the door on that part of my life. It hurt too much to continue to dig for answers.”

My heart breaks for Willow. I know she’s strong and resilient, and I’m sure

she’s partly putting on a front, but I can’t imagine that pain, especially at such a young age.

“You know I gave that prick road head?” She scoffs and the other girls burst

into laughter.

“Road head?” I ask sheepishly.

“Yeah, road head . . . you know, when you give a guy a blow job while he’s

driving.”

I feel silly for not knowing, but they don’t seem to think too much of it. I laugh as Pearl pretends to choke while simulating a dick in her hand.

“To Willow, who is a badass woman no man can destroy!” Jade lifts her glass and we join her in the toast.

“I guess the moral of the story is, you never know what’s going on in someone’s life. You can think it’s all happiness and rainbows, but there just might be a huge rain cloud lurking somewhere.”

I know she’s just being a bit dramatic, but I swallow down the lump in my

throat.

EIGHTEEN

SAWYER

“Do you have any family traditions?” I know the question came out of

nowhere, but it’s been in the back of mind as we approach

Thanksgiving this week. Even before my dad died, he and I would always head

up to Virginia Dale to spend the holidays with the Slade family.

She looks up at me from across the dinner table, her fork pausing. “Yeah, my

mom and I always went to my Aunt Darlene and Uncle Bobby’s house. Gen and

Livy would be there, plus other aunts, uncles, and cousins.” She lets out a soft

sigh as a smile forms on her lips. “I always had a great time. It was a small family gathering—nothing like what you see in Home Alone or other movies—

but then again, I’ve never had a big one, so I wouldn’t know what that’s like.

What about you?”

I move a piece of chicken around my plate with my fork. I think back to when I was really young and both my parents were still alive. We still went to

the Slades even back then, but we had a few traditions we did ourselves. Dad and I would always go hunting on Thanksgiving morning, getting up at the ass-crack of dawn while mom would make all sorts of baked goods for us to come

home to.

“Ever since I can remember, we’ve headed up north to the Slade family ranch. Since I was an only child, my parents thought it was good for me to be around other kids, especially during the holidays. They’re basically my family.”

I take a drink.

“Well, please don’t feel you need to change your plans on my part. I’m

happy to stay here or even drive home and surprise my family.”

“I want you to go with me.” The words are out of my mouth as soon as I think them, but I don’t regret them. I do want her there with me. I want her to be a part of my life.

“Okay,” she says with a huge grin. She picks up our plates and puts them in

the sink before walking behind me and placing her hands on my shoulders. I reach to grab her hands and pull her arms around me, but she tells me to just sit and relax. Her hands begin to slowly knead and massage my shoulders, and it feels so amazing I let out a groan.

“Damn, baby, that feels amazing.”

“Just relax. So, can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.” My eyes are closed.

“Did your parents only want one child?”

“No, they struggled to conceive. They tried for the better part of a decade, and my mom finally got pregnant with me when she was 40. They were about to

give up and consider adoption when she found out she was pregnant.”

“Oh, wow, that must have been so hard for them, but also the most amazing

gift at the same time.”

“Miracle baby.”

“Is that what they called you?”

“Yup.”

“Well, you are pretty damn amazing,” she leans down and whispers in my ear. I take the moment to slip my hand behind her neck as I turn my head to kiss

her. It lingers for a moment and I can feel myself growing harder by the second.

I want to take her on this table, but I’m also enjoying the massage.

“I’ve never had a massage before.”

“Never? Not even from a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, let’s do this right,” she says, patting my shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

She grabs my hand and I stand up as she walks us down the hall toward the

bedroom.

“I’m going to need you to get fully naked and lie down on your front.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I strip out my clothes in record time. I watch her eyes travel down my body before landing on my rigid cock. I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her toward me. “You’re not going to join me?”

She trails her finger down my chest before wrapping her slender hand around

my manhood. “Not yet, big guy. You got any lotion?” I look at her sideways for

a moment, unsure of what she plans to do with the lotion. “For the massage,” she

clarifies.

I grab a bottle of lotion from the bathroom and lie face down on the bed as

instructed. She climbs on top of me, straddling my ass before pumping a few handfuls of lotion into her palms and vigorously rubbing them together.

She starts out slowly, pushing the heels of her hands into my lower back as

she drags her hands up my spine. It feels incredible, and I instantly start to relax into the bed.

“Damn, baby, you’re good at that. You could get a job at a spa or

something.”

“Thanks! So, getting back to your family, what was your mom like?”

I have to think for a moment since it’s been 20 years since she passed. That

thought makes me sad. “She was tall and had long blonde hair and these fierce

green eyes. She was always the life of the party and loved to laugh and just shoot the shit with anyone. She was good for my dad.”

“Why’s that?”

“She helped me with confidence and taught me how to be more outgoing. He

was always shy, kept to himself. She actually asked him out.”

“Wow, she sounds like a firecracker!” Quinn squeezes my shoulders again, pressing her thumbs deep into crevices and knots I didn’t even know I had. It hurts, but it’s a good pain.

“Yeah, she really was. My parents met in high school but didn’t start dating

until two years later. My mom always said the moment she saw my dad, she knew he was her soulmate. It almost killed him when she died.”

“That’s an amazing love story. I wish . . .” her words trail off. I wonder if she was going to say she wished she could have that with someone, or wished her

own parents could’ve had that.

I roll over so she’s straddling my front. I want to look at her, because she’s

absolutely stunning. She looks like a fairy from an Irish folktale: creamy skin, bright blue eyes, and long auburn hair. I run my fingers through the ends of her

hair, and it feels like silk.

“What’s the story with your dad?” I glance up to try to read her face, not sure

if it’s something she’s ready to talk about. To my surprise, she actually laughs.

“My dad, oh boy, that’s a story.”

“You don’t have to share it if you don’t want to.” I cup her cheek and she leans into my hand.

“No, it’s okay. My dad, Tony Simmons, was a bit of a troubled soul.”

“I take it your mom didn’t give you his last name?” I ask.

“No. He wasn’t even on the birth certificate. They were going through one of

their rougher periods when I was born. When my mom met him, he was this rebellious young rocker who just wanted to live every day to the fullest and didn’t feel constrained by the rules or laws of society. My mom always said she

thought it was exciting, because she’d been raised in such a conservative and sheltered home. He was a few years older than her and they just hit it off. She

said they spent every moment together and it felt like destiny—like they were meant to be.”

“Ah, young love.”

“Yeah, something like that. So my dad was a musician and on the road most

nights playing in all sorts of dive bars around Idaho, and my mom was right there by his side. But then she found out she was pregnant, and that’s when she

said the shit hit the fan. She didn’t feel safe or comfortable hanging out in all those bars when she was pregnant. People could still smoke in them back then and it just wasn’t a safe crowd. No place for a pregnant woman. So she stayed

back home and he continued on with his shows, without my mom around to watch him, and he started screwing around on her with the groupies and local girls at the bars and getting into drugs.”

“Damn, that’s really shitty, baby. I’m sorry.”

“She tried to make it work even through all of that, which is crazy. She never

put me in harm’s way, though. She didn’t let him watch me or anything, but she

didn’t cut him out of her life either, because she wanted me to have a dad. She

tried that for a while, but slowly, his visits became so few and far between that watching me be sad and disappointed was worse than not having a dad, so she

stopped trying to make him come around.” She shrugs her shoulders like it’s nothing, but I can see the sadness on her face.

“When was the last time you saw him?” I ask.

“He did show up to my mom’s wake. Just briefly. He hung in the back and

finally came up to me and asked me if I remembered him.”

“Do you miss him?”

“No, I never even knew him. He would pop in, like, maybe twice a year? But

that all stopped once I got old enough to start asking him why he was never around. The last time I saw him before my mom’s funeral was seven years ago,

and it was on accident. My friends took me out for my 21st birthday and we stopped at this bar, and lo and behold, the drunk guy passed out at the bar was

my dad.”

Fuck. I want to punch this piece of shit in the face and I don’t even know him. “I admire you. You’ve been through so much and had people be complete

shit to you, and you didn’t let it change you. You’re so fearless and still go after life like nothing can hold you back.” I grab her arms and pull her down so I can

hold her. She has no idea how envious I am that she can be the way she is.

“I’m okay,” she says against my neck, but what I don’t say back is that I’m

the one who’s not okay. I want to protect her—to shield her from any more hurt

or heartache in this life. She’s been through so much, so much she didn’t deserve. I want to show her what family should be like . . . what love should be

like.

“Just let me hold you please,” I murmur against her hair as I fight back a tear.

“I’M TELLING YOU, Quinn, you really don’t have to bring anything. Celeste

always has, like, 15 pies there.”

“Well, this is my mom’s famous deep-dish caramel apple pie with a crumb topping, and I refuse to have a Thanksgiving without it.”

I take the pie from her as I help her up into the cab of my truck and then hand it back to her. I can’t believe I’m taking a woman to a holiday event, especially at the Slade ranch. I know these guys, and they won’t let anything slide. I told Quinn as much and she doesn’t seem too concerned about it. I told

her to be ready for a lot of ribbing and nosy questions, but that ultimately, they only have good intentions.

The drive up to Virginia Dale is uneventful and relaxing. We laugh and talk

about anything and everything. She tells me about her favorite Thanksgiving memory of the family dog finding the turkey before dinner and running off with

it. I tell her about the time my dad got drunk and went to pee outside at the Slades’ house, and ended up slipping on some ice and falling right back down in

the pee.

“You positive about this?” I turn to her as I park the truck and turn off the engine. She glances from me to the front door that swings open.

“Looks like we don’t have a choice now,” she laughs as Hudson stands in the

doorway with a few little faces around him.

“Stop hooking up in the driveway and get your asses inside!” Hudson shouts

and waves.

“Here we go,” I say as we climb out and walk up the driveway.

“WAIT, so Brennan, you were a nanny Colton hired?” Quinn asks, trying to keep

everyone’s story straight.

“Yes, ma’am, and let me tell you, when my daddy found out that I was doing

a little more than nannying, he showed up in Colton’s driveway with a shotgun.”

She bursts out laughing and Colton just shakes his head.

“Oh my God!” Quinn exclaims, clutching at her chest.

“It all worked out, thankfully. They smoothed things over and, well, now we have two amazing kids and he and my dad are practically inseparable.”

“That’s because I sneak him bottles of scotch that your mama doesn’t know

about,” Colton says, laughing.

“So Quinn, we’re all dying to know what brings you out to Grand Lake,”

Deven, Hudson’s wife, asks.

I flinch a little at her question, not wanting Quinn to feel like she needs to share. I glance over at her, but she reaches out and places a hand on my knee.

Instinctively, I cover her hand with my own and give it a squeeze. It feels good

—natural—for us to share these little intimate moments like we’re a real couple.

Are we a couple?

I sit back and watch as Quinn smiles and shares the story about her mom and

the book she’s dreaming of writing. She eats up all the stories of how the Slade

boys finally found their true loves. She shares about her mom, and I can see the

outpouring of love from the girls as they share their condolences. The ladies all start to gather a little closer around the fire, sipping on wine and sharing stories about their kids.

“Want something a little stronger?” Drake asks me, pointing to my beer. He

gives me a nod with his head as if to say follow me. I stand, squeeze Quinn’s shoulder, and let her know I’m stepping out with Drake. She smiles and carries

on with the ladies as I lean down and kiss her head on my way out.

“Damn, Drake, you boys sure know how to make a fine whiskey.” I take a sip and savor the burn.

“This is our holiday batch. It’s got notes of clove and a few other spices.

Tastes great in a mulled cider.” He pours me a full glass and we step out onto his large back porch. “So, what’s going on with you two?”

I knew the question was coming, but I still don’t feel prepared for it. “Just enjoying our time together.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” I know he’s going to give me a piece of his mind, so he might as

well just say it.

“That’s not what she’s doing in there.” He points with his glass back toward

the house. “To her, you guys are a happy couple in love. I bet she’s already planned your kids’ names and what flowers she wants for the wedding.”

I laugh, thinking he’s joking, but then I see the serious look on his face.

“You’re joking, right?”

“You know, for a smart man, you’re pretty fucking stupid.” He takes a long

sip of his drink before continuing. “She’s in there telling us her family story and opening up about her darkest days. And the way she’s been looking at you . . .

that’s a woman in love, Sawyer. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the way

you look right back at her says it all.”

“Drake, we both know⁠ —”

He cuts me off before I can finish. “I don’t want to hear that bullshit about

Justine. We both know that was a shitty situation that you couldn’t have changed, so don’t compare what you have now to that.” I don’t say anything back, so neither of us speaks for several minutes.

“Just do me one favor, Sawyer. Figure out your shit on your own time and not hers. Don’t break the girl’s heart.”

We say goodbye to everyone and make the trip back to the cabin. I can feel

my forehead crinkling, but Quinn hasn’t seemed to notice a change in my mood.

“I had a great time; thanks so much for inviting me. The Slades really are amazing. That’s a crazy household, though, with all those kids. I bet Christmas is a blast.”

I can’t tell if she’s trying to drop hints that she wants to spend Christmas with them, but it annoys me. She reaches over and runs a hand down my chest, not stopping until she’s pulling at my belt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing over at her. I can see her eyes are a bit

watery, which makes sense given that she’s had quite a bit of wine tonight.

“Quinn?”

“I learned about something a while back and wanted to try it.”

“Learned what?” I’m confused.

“Road head,” she says a little sheepishly. Under any other circumstances, I’d

pull my dick out so fast, but tonight I’m not in the mood.

“Who the fuck taught you that?”

“Pearl.” She bites her bottom lip as she continues to undo my belt and starts to drag my zipper down.

“Quinn, stop,” I say as she crawls over to me and wraps her hand around me.

She fishes my cock out of my pants and wraps her lips around the tip. Part of me

wants to grip the back of her head and fuck her face in frustration, but I don’t. “I said stop!” I bark out as I pull her off of me.

She sits back, her hair a tangled mess and what looks like tears in her eyes. I

feel like an asshole. I am an asshole. I tuck myself back in my pants and ride the rest of the trip home in silence, with Drake’s words bouncing around in my head,

and I know . . . I know I have to tell Quinn the truth.

NINETEEN

QUINN

Something has changed between us. Ever since Thanksgiving, it’s like

Sawyer has turned back into the moody prick I first met.

I didn’t ask him about the road head incident when it happened; my pride was too wounded and I was embarrassed. That night, he stayed up in the living

room while I went to bed.

The next morning before the sun was even up, he crawled into bed with me

and kept whispering I’m sorry over and over. I thought it was about the night before, but it felt different, like there was something else that was eating him alive. He kissed me softly, but it quickly turned harder, needier. I thought we were making up—that we were going to make love and everything was going to

be okay—but it wasn’t. His eyes looked empty and he fucked me like he was trying to get me out of his system.

It’s been three days, but it’s felt like forever. Sawyer has been crazy busy with the Jeep rental business, his custom furniture business, and now the restaurant, which means I’ve barely seen him. When he gets back at night, we eat dinner together and make small talk, but it just doesn’t feel as lighthearted and easy as it used to be.

I wanted to give Sawyer time to work through whatever he’s feeling. I know

with the holidays, it’s probably tough for him. He’s lost both of his parents and the only family he has isn’t even his real family. I know I’ve been dreading Christmas this year. Thanksgiving was amazing and I was surrounded by so much love and friendship that I didn’t really get a chance to be sad about my

mom. But on Christmas, I’ll be home. It’ll be so weird to celebrate with my aunt and uncle and cousins in the same house we have every year—but this time it’ll

be without her.

I sit in a back booth at the Bean & Bun, tapping away on my laptop. I’m trying to pay attention to the words, but I’m struggling. I only have a few more

chapters until the book is done, and honestly, it terrifies me. I always told myself that I would give it to Sawyer when it was completed. It was going to be how I

told him that I want a life with him, but that seems terrifying now. I wipe away a stray tear and take a big gulp of my coffee. I can’t think about all that right now.

I’m determined to give the two of us a happily ever after in my debut manuscript.

I take the last bite of the strawberry-rhubarb tart that Violet brought over to

me earlier just as two older ladies enter the bakery and the overhead bell jingles.

“Well, I saw Justine yesterday and that poor girl was broken.” I don’t recognize the ladies and they don’t seem to take notice that I’m in the corner.

“How so?” the lady with short gray hair asks.

“Poor thing couldn’t stop crying. She said she had messed up so much in life

that she doesn’t even know where to begin.” The lady with the scarf wrapped around her head looks like she’s eating up the fact that she has gossip the other lady is dying to hear.

“Good morning, ladies, I’ll be right with you,” Violet says as she makes fresh coffee.

“So what is Justine going to do? Did she have the baby with her?”

“She says that she lied about the father—that Tanner isn’t the baby’s father!”

She looks around like she doesn’t want anyone to hear what she’s saying, but makes no attempt to lower her voice.

I have to admit, I have no idea who these ladies are or who she’s talking about, but I’m intrigued. It sounds like a soap opera.

“Hello, Miss Marigold and Miss Betty. How are you ladies today?” Violet asks with her usual chipper demeanor.

“Oh, we’re just fine. More importantly, how are you and the family doing? I

saw that handsome husband of yours yesterday and he was just so helpful getting

my groceries into my car,” the lady with the scarf on her head gushes.

“Yeah, he’s a good one. I got lucky.” Violet winks.

The ladies order some pastries and coffee and continue making small talk with Violet about Margo, William, and Carson.

“Violet, I need a huge favor. Ruth Anne in our bridge club is about to celebrate her 70th birthday, and we want to get her a cake by Friday. You think

you could whip something up? She’s a real fan of lemon.”

“Absolutely, Betty. Let me grab my cake book from the back so you can pick

out a design.” She steps away and the ladies carry on with their conversation.

“Is Justine going to tell Sawyer?”

I flinch at the mention of his name. Tell Sawyer what? And why?

“Well, she said that’s her plan. She’s just tryna muster up the strength to tell

him he really is a father,” Marigold replies.

My stomach drops and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Sawyer’s a father?

There has to be a mistake here.

“She said that she’s still in love with him. Can you believe that? She said she

made the biggest mistake breaking that man’s heart and lying to him about who

the baby’s father was.” Betty gasps at the news as Violet returns with the book.

“Okay, ladies, here you go. Did you have an initial shape or color in mind?”

Violet carries on, clearly having no idea what they were talking about.

“Oh, something simple. She also loves lavender, so maybe a small round one

with purple on it?” The ladies spend a few minutes looking through the book, pointing at designs they like while Violet jots down their choices.

I just sit at the table. I feel like if I stand up, I might pass out or throw up . . .

or both. I feel like the room is spinning and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself and take in a few deep inhales.

“Violet, dear, thank you. I was just telling Betty here that I ran into Justine

yesterday over at the market—right after I saw Carson, actually. That poor girl

was all worked up.” I see Violet’s eyes jump to mine, and in that instant, I know she already knows.

“Justine is back in town to win Sawyer back. Apparently that baby really is

his!” Betty pipes up, finishing Marigold’s story.

My eyes don’t move from Violet as I see her glance back to the ladies, unsure of what to say. “Well, that’s just gossip, so we should probably let them

sort that out,” she says.

“If you hear anything about it . . .” Marigold taps her nose. “Have a lovely

day, my dear, and thank you.”

“Absolutely. I’ll call you when the cake is ready. Should be sometime on Thursday.” The ladies wave and exit the bakery as Violet comes over to my table.

“Violet . . .” I can’t get any more words out before tears begin pouring down

my cheeks.

“Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry. I thought . . . did Sawyer not tell you anything?”

I shake my head and wipe at the snot and tears that won’t stop. The bell jingles and someone else walks in.

“Here, go in the back to my office,” she says as she picks up my laptop and

hands it to me. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I walk back behind the counter and through a curtain to her office, where I sit

down. I hear her cheerfully helping the customer who walked in, then she makes

her way to the back.

“Sorry about that. So you don’t know about Justine and Tanner?”

“No. Who are these people? Who the hell is Justine?” My tears of shock and

sadness are quickly becoming tears of anger.

Violet lets out a long sigh and starts pacing around her office. “Listen, this isn’t my place to tell you Sawyer’s business, it just isn’t. As much as I want to punch him for hiding it from you, and I know you deserve answers, they need to

come from him.”

“Just tell me who Justine is. Please,” I beg.

“She’s . . . his ex-wife.”

I feel the color drain from my face, and it sounds like water rushing in my ears. “Oh my God.” My hands shoot up and cover my mouth as I bend forward

trying to catch my breath. I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.

“Sweetie,” Violet rushes over to me and rubs my back, “I’m so sorry. I thought he told you. I just can’t believe he didn’t.”

We sit like that for I don’t know how long. “I don’t know what to do.” I just keep repeating the words over and over. “I need a moment.” I get up and go to

the restroom, splashing cold water on my face and wiping away the smeared mascara. I take several deep breaths before stepping back out into the office.

“What do you want to do?” Violet asks me, and I honestly don’t know.

“I don’t know. Should I go confront Sawyer? Do I give him the benefit of the

doubt that he was eventually going to tell me?” As I say the words, it hits me:

this is why he’s been acting so distant. Something was said at the Slades that made him doubt everything.

“Quinn, I’ve known Sawyer a long time. I don’t know him well, but if there’s

one thing that can be said about him, it’s that he does the right thing. He’s a good man. I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt and just talk to him. Be honest with him.”

I nod slowly. I feel silly that I’ve already been so open and honest with him. I

thought he was doing the same, but clearly, I was wrong. “Part of me wants to go

confront this Justine woman and ask her what gives her the right, ya know? She

left! She left and broke his heart, so what gives her the right?” The tears start flowing again. “Oh God, the baby. I forgot about the baby,” I say through broken

sobs.

“Trixie. That’s her name. I honestly can’t tell you if he’s the father or not, Quinn. I wish I could, but only Justine knows that. I think you should go talk to him and get some answers. What you guys have is real—too real to just walk away from and not fight for it.” I let her words sink in as I realize she’s right.

“I don’t want to come between him and his family though.”

“Well, that’s a decision Sawyer has to make, and one he should make with you. If—and that’s a big IF—Trixie really is his daughter, it doesn’t mean you two can’t be together. It doesn’t mean he and Justine will get back together. I mean, honestly, I can’t ever see that happening.”

“Oh my God, how did this spiral into something so crazy in, like, two days? I

swear everything was perfect at Thanksgiving and then . . .” I just shake my head. No use in me trying to figure all this out on my own.

“Just tell him how you feel, Quinn. Be honest with him, but more

importantly, be honest with yourself. If you feel like he’s worth fighting for, then you fight. And really think about the fact that he might have a daughter now.

When I met Carson, his wife had died a few years earlier and he already had a

daughter. I never thought I’d be a stepmom and it terrified me at first, but I realized any discomfort or fear I had was worth getting over for him.”

I want to believe her—I want to believe her so badly, but I can’t get my hopes up. Violet lets me sit in her office for another hour while she helps customers. I sip my water and allow myself to gather my thoughts before I pack

up my things and make the decision to head back to the cabin and talk to Sawyer.

The drive feels like it takes forever. I grip the steering wheel and wipe away

the tears that continue to fall. I know I’m doing the right thing, I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t feel like it. Am I just setting myself up for failure? I contemplate sneaking into the cabin and packing up my things so I can leave without him even knowing. But the thought of never seeing Sawyer again kills

me.

I love this man and I can’t just walk away without laying it all out on the table and telling him exactly how I feel. With each mile, my confidence grows .

Maybe this is what we needed, I tell myself. A catalyst for us to fight for each other.

I make the turn onto Sunshine Lane and climb the hill in my Civic, when suddenly, the pit in my stomach is back and all the courage I thought I’d mustered up has vanished.

There’s a red Jetta parked in the driveway and a tall, thin woman with long

dark hair is standing on the porch talking to Sawyer. It’s Justine. It has to be.

That’s when it hits me: she’s the woman I saw in the picture with Sawyer.

I park farther back than normal and just watch them for a moment. I’m frozen. Do I get out and confront them both? I watch as Sawyer pulls her in for a hug and our eyes meet. My breath catches in my throat as I see him just shake

his head at me and gesture with his hand that I need to leave.

I don’t think. I just put the car in reverse and leave.

TWENTY

SAWYER

I stand in shock at the sight of Justine on my porch.

“Well, aren’t you going to give me a hug?” she asks in that sickly-sweet

tone she would always use to get what she wanted.

I lean in cautiously and hug her just as my eyes meet Quinn’s. Fuck! When

did she get here? I don’t know what to do. She’s staring at me through her windshield and I can see the look of pain on her face. I know she has no idea who this woman is, but it feels like she does the way she’s looking at me. As much as it kills me, I wave at her to leave. I’ll have to deal with explaining things to her later.

“Come in,” I say as I release Justine and step back inside the warmth of the

cabin.

“Place hasn’t changed at all,” she says as she looks around.

“What the fuck do you want?” I don’t bother disguising my anger or distaste

for Justine, especially given the fact that she’s standing in what was once our home acting like nothing happened.

“Still as pleasant as ever, Sawyer.”

I’m surprised she didn’t hear Quinn pull up or see her, but it seems like I dodged that bullet for now since Justine hasn’t mentioned it.

“Justine, you couldn’t leave here fast enough and now you show up on my

doorstep unannounced with a smile on your face and I’m supposed to—what?

Welcome you with open arms?” I walk to the fridge and pull out a beer, not bothering to offer her one. “So, I’ll ask you again, what do yo⁠ —”

“I’m still in love with you.”

I didn’t expect her to say that. “What?”

“I—I made a mistake Sawyer. I never should have chosen Tanner over you.

It’s you. You’re the man I’ve always loved.” She reaches for me but I step away.

“You didn’t choose Tanner over me, you cheated on me with him. In OUR

bed!” I shout the last part. I’ve had three years of anger built up, and the dam just broke.

“I know Sawyer, I know! You never let me forget it!” she shouts back.

“It wasn’t a mistake either, Justine. A mistake is when you do something once—you get drunk and kiss someone. You fucked my best friend behind my back over and over again. It wasn’t a fucking mistake!” I see tears pooling in her eyes as I unleash my rage and she hangs her head.

“I know, I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I can’t tell if her tears

are real, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck. We both stand there in silence before I walk to the front door and yank it open.

“If that’s it, you can fuckin’ leave.” She doesn’t move. She just stands there

with her arms crossed, staring at her feet. “I said leave!” I shout this time.

“Trixie is your daughter.” She looks up at me. “I lied about her being Tanner’s. It’s fucked up, I know, but in the moment, I wanted to hurt you like you’d hurt me.”

I can’t make sense of the words coming out of her mouth. I slam the door and walk up to her until I’m right in her face, “Was this the plan? Try to trick me by saying you’re still in love with me? Play on my emotions, and if that didn’t

work, tell me the kid is mine?”

“No! I meant every word I said, Sawyer. God, this is so typical of you! You

never did listen to me. You never saw the signs!”

“Oh, I saw the signs, darlin’. You guys made it pretty fucking clear when you

were naked in my bed.” I step back and run my hands through my hair as I pace

the floor, trying to calm down. I thought this shit was in the past.

“Jesus, Sawyer, you still don’t get it. That was just the last straw with us. I

gave you so many signs. I begged you to talk to me, to open up to me. I told you

I felt lonely in our marriage, and that I wanted—needed—more, and you never

listened. You always brushed it off, too lost in your own bullshit. So yeah, I did fuck your best friend. Maybe it was a cry for help, or maybe I just didn’t care at that point, but you pushed me into his arms!” She points her finger, spitting those last few words at me.

I can see she means them. This isn’t part of her act. I never wanted to admit

to myself or anyone that I was to blame in our failed marriage as much as she was. Sure, I didn’t cheat on her, but she isn’t wrong about me being emotionally

unavailable. I push the thoughts out of my head as I realize something.

“Where’s Tanner?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“He ran off, didn’t he? That’s why you’re here.” I shake my head, seeing right through her bullshit.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it, Justine? Because I’m not falling for your games anymore.”

“He went to Montana for a job and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“How long ago?”

“Just over three months.” She shrugs like she doesn’t care, but she does.

“I knew this would happen. I knew he’d get tired of family life, of the normal day-to-day stuff that isn’t exciting, and he’d head for the hills. Typical Tanner . . .”

“He’s a good man.” She bristles at my comments.

“Don’t come into my home and tell me that my former best friend who stole

my wife and now abandoned her and his kid is a good man. I’ve known Tanner a

helluva lot longer than you have, and he’s always been this way. I warned you,

didn’t I?” She nods. “I told you that as much as I always loved Tanner, he’s a flake. He never kept a job for more than a year or two at most. Ran off whenever

it got too hard or he got bored.”

“What’s the point in saying all this again, Sawyer? This isn’t about Tanner;

this is about us. About us being a family.”

My stomach flip-flops at the word family. We aren’t a family.

I stand there staring at her. I don’t have a clue what to do. I’d give anything

to talk to my dad right now. I’d give anything to hold Quinn right now. My heart

breaks at the thought of Quinn, because I don’t know what I’m going to do with her either. I owe her the truth, but I also know that if Trixie is mine, I have to do right by Justine and I will step up and be a father.

I let out a long sigh. “Look, I don’t believe you when you say she’s my daughter, and I sure as hell don’t believe you love me, but I’m not a total dick.

I’ll help you out.”

“Thank you.” She walks over to me with outstretched arms, and I put my hands up.

“This in no way means we are back together or that I want to get back together with you. Don’t confuse yourself here, Justine. I’m doing this for Trixie.”

“She looks just like you,” she says as she opens her phone and shows me the

screen.

I look at the photo, but I don’t see a resemblance to me at all. She has black

hair and hazel eyes, neither of which I have. I glance up at Justine’s face and she’s smiling from ear to ear. Does she want this? Does she actually want to be a family with me, or is she just using me until Tanner resurfaces? I don’t let myself linger on the thought. There’s no point.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“She’s over at the Winthrop cabins by the lake. My friend Tessa is watching

her.”

“You guys can stay here in the spare bedroom for now. I’ll meet you over at

the cabins shortly. Just need to take care of something first.”

She doesn’t say anything when she leaves. She stands in the doorway for a

moment before giving me a nod and heading to her car.

I stand in the living room after she leaves, and it feels like the walls are caving in around me. I can’t focus on that right now, so I head back to the bedroom and start packing up Quinn’s things. I finish packing up her clothes and

turn to double-check that I have everything when I see the framed picture of her, her mom, and her cat sitting on the bedside table. It feels like my heart is breaking . . . because it is.

I hate myself in this moment.

I hate that I have to choose Justine over Quinn.

I hate myself for not telling her the truth from the beginning.

I grab the photo and her suitcase and walk them outside then down the steps,

and drop them off inside the lower level of the cabin. I contemplate leaving a note, but I wouldn’t even know what to say. I quickly shut the door behind me

and fish my keys out of my pocket as I walk toward my truck to go meet up with

Justine and Trixie.

As I make the drive, I try to make sense of what’s happening. I love Quinn

more than anything—more than I ever thought possible. I was ready to tell her

that—ready to tell her about my past—but I waited too long. This is what I get

for being a coward.

As much as I want to explain everything to Quinn and beg her to give me a

second chance—to let her make the choice of whether or not she wants to be part

of my life—I don’t feel like it’s fair to put her in that position. She’s young and has her entire life ahead of her. The last thing she needs is to be saddled with my baggage.

She needs a man who isn’t damaged and broken—a man who can give her

the things she dreams about, and the life she never had. I know that if Trixie is my daughter, I’ll do everything in my power to be part of that little girl’s life. I also know that no matter what, I don’t want a life with Justine.

It might not feel fair to me that this is the hand I’ve been dealt, but I’ve made my bed. Quinn, however, can go anywhere and build a life with someone. So even if it kills me, I have to let her go.

TWENTY-ONE

QUINN

I ’ll never forget the look in Sawyer’s eyes as he told me to leave. I didn’t

even register what was happening. I just threw the car in reverse and got the

hell out of there.

I sit on the edge of a dock down by the lake, trying to figure out how I want

to handle this mess, or if it’s even up to me. Does Sawyer even want me in his

life at this point?

This isn’t the ideal way to start a relationship, but I also know that anything

worth having is worth fighting for, right?

Quinn, life isn’t easy, sweetheart. If you want it, you have to go for it. Nobody is ever going to hand you an opportunity. The words my mom said to me when I was seven years old and crying because I was too scared to try out for gymnastics ring true to this day. I know some people might think that was a heavy thing to say to a child, but my mom was a straight shooter. She talked to

me like I was an adult from a young age, and honestly, I appreciated it.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I love Sawyer and want a life with

him. Yeah, I know, we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I do believe that when you know . . . you know.

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone ringing, and I nervously pull it out

of my coat pocket, hoping it’s Sawyer. It’s not.

“Hey, Gen,” I say, trying to mask my fragile emotional state.

“What’s wrong?” She was always the best at sniffing out trouble a mile away.

“Nothing, just missing mom is all,” I lie . . . well, I half-lie. I am missing my mom something fierce right now, and I’d give anything just to hear her tell me

it’s going to be okay. But I don’t feel like troubling Gen with everything going

on right now, and besides, I haven’t made up my mind as to what I’m even going

to do yet. I don’t feel it would be fair to myself.

“Hi, Aunt Quinn!” I hear Livy shout from somewhere in the background.

“Aww, tell her I said hi.”

“We miss you, Quinn,” Gen says. I can’t hold back the tears any longer, and

they pour out in a flood. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I know you’re living your life and having a great time.”

I nod even though I know she can’t see me through the phone. “I miss you

guys too. It’s okay, really. I’ve just been thinking about how different Christmas is going to be this year.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. You’re still coming home, right?”

“Yeah. The temporary lease I signed here is for three months, so I’ll have to

come back after Christmas.” I feel the lump in my throat growing and I’m completely lost in my own thoughts right now to really have a conversation.

“Hey, Gen, I’m sorry, but is it okay if I call you back a little later?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I love you, Quinn. Miss you.”

I hang up the phone and shake the tears away. I glance at the clock and realize I’ve been sitting on this dock for more than three hours. The sun is starting to set and I need to get back to the cabin.

The entire drive back, I’m thinking of what I’ll tell Sawyer. I plan to tell him

that even with everything going on, I want to be with him and I’ll be patient and wait for him to sort things out. I get butterflies at the thought. I’m sure he’ll be relieved, because he’s probably been panicked—wondering how I’m going to deal with all of this.

Part of me is still hurt and angry that he didn’t tell me about everything, but

it seems he had no idea that he had a daughter. But his past is his past, and I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt unless he says otherwise.

When I pull into the driveway and see only Sawyer’s truck, a wave of relief

washes over me. I park and make my way to the front door. I turn the handle but

it’s locked. The lights are on inside, so I knock.

The door swings open and the smile falls from my face. Justine answers holding a child on her hip. “Hi, can I help you?” she asks.

“Oh, I, um, is Sawyer home?” She doesn’t respond, but Sawyer appears

behind her and I can see he’s surprised to see me. Why would he be surprised? I

live here. Did he expect I just wouldn’t come back?

“Give us a minute, Justine.”

She steps aside and Sawyer walks through the front door out onto the porch

and shuts the door. He doesn’t invite me inside.

“Quinn, I know . . . I know this has to be confusing and I have a lot of explaining to do, but I just need some time.”

I don’t know what to say to him. How do you even respond in a situation like

this? I can’t even gauge my own feelings right now.

“So it’s true?” I ask, and he hangs his head.

“I don’t know. There’s just so much.” He’s not making sense.

“What’s going on with us? What are we doing here, Sawyer?” I hate that I sound needy and pathetic. I want to be stoic and tell him to fuck off, but I can’t.

“I don’t know yet, Quinn. I need time to figure things out. I promise I’ll explain everything, but right now I just need to sort some shit out.”

“And my stuff?” I ask, referring to the fact that all my belongings were in his

part of the cabin.

“I moved everything back downstairs.” He doesn’t look me in the eyes when

he replies.

I nod. “Okay.”

I turn to walk away, but he reaches out and grabs my arm, “Quinn, please.” I

don’t know what he’s asking, but I pull my arm out his grasp. He turns and walks back inside, but before he shuts the door, I can hear Justine ask who I am.

“Nobody. Don’t worry about it,” he replies.

I run down the stairs and onto the balcony before my heart shatters. I grip the

railing as I bend over and start to cry. Nobody. The word echoes through my head as my entire body convulses in sobs. I manage to right myself and walk into the cabin, not even bothering to take off my coat or shoes before I lie in bed.

I let the emotions take over me, and I don’t hold back this time. I feel so broken, so robbed. I don’t know how someone you thought you loved can just shut you out of their life in an instant. I cry myself to sleep.

It’s nearing 8 p.m. by the time I wake up. I walk to the bathroom and stare at

myself in the mirror. My face is red and swollen and my hair looks like roadkill

on my head. I take off my coat and splash cold water on my face, running a brush through my hair before putting my coat back on. I can’t stomach the thought of staying here tonight with them upstairs. I grab my purse and keys and

head to my car. I guess I’ll be drinking at the bar tonight.

“I’LL TAKE ANOTHER,” I say to Will as I drain the glass in front of me.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” Will asks, but still plops another gin and

tonic down on the bar.

“You know what? Fuck love and all that. It’s just bullshit.”

He laughs, but I can’t even remember what I just said, so I smile back at him.

“That’s been my motto for a while now,” he says as he tosses a towel over

his shoulder and leans his elbows on the bar. “I subscribe to the idea that men and women are just sexual beings—animals, really—who have inborn desires and needs. That’s what we should worry about focusing on: just feeding those needs. Love just muddies the waters.” He tosses me a wink before pouring some

beers for the guys down the bar.

“Yeaaaah, I like that motto. That’s going to be my new motto. I’m goin’ to

subscribe to that.”

“Okay, you’ve had enough,” a woman’s voice says next to me. “Will, cut it

out.”

“What? I wasn’t going to let her drive home.”

“No kidding. We both know you’re trying to get her to go home with you,”

Willow snaps. I turn around to face her and almost spin right off the barstool.

“Oh, heeeeey. I feel like I’m speaking in cursive,” I mumble.

“That’s because you’re drunk off your ass and slurring your words.” She gives me a weak smile and snatches the drink out of my hand before I can finish

it.

“Hey, I was drinking that.”

“Not anymore, baby girl. You’re coming home with me.”

I don’t remember much of the ride to her place. I remember Willow putting

me in the back seat of her car, but not before I emptied my stomach all over the

parking lot. The last thing I can recall is stumbling to a couch and passing out.

I BLINK a few times as a stream of sunlight pierces through the curtains right

into my eyes. “Ugghhh,” I groan as I roll forward and see a bucket next to the

edge of the couch. It’s still empty, so I guess that means I didn’t puke after the parking lot incident last night. I see a glass of water and some Advil next to me, along with a muffin. I drag myself upright and grip the couch cushions for a moment while I take a few deep breaths. When I open my eyes again, Willow is

sitting in the armchair across from me holding a cup of what I assume is coffee.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head no and flop back against the couch again.

“That bad, huh?”

I nod my head yes.

“Well, there’s fresh coffee and as much as you might not want to, I think you

should drink that water and eat that muffin so you can take some Advil. With the

amount you drank last night, I’m pretty sure you’re going to have a hangover into next week.”

“God, was it that bad?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

“Yeah, you thought Will’s advice was good, and if I hadn’t rescued you, my

guess is you’d be waking up in his bed instead of my couch.”

“Seriously? He’d do that?”

“He’s human garbage, Quinn. I wouldn’t trust him with a pet rock.”

That makes me giggle. I lean forward and grab the muffin and water. I take a small sip and sniff the muffin, but feel my stomach flop and decide against it for now.

“Well, thank you, Willow. I know you deserve an explanation, and honestly, I

don’t even know where to begin.” I look up to the ceiling, willing tears not to form, but it’s no use. One escapes and I quickly wipe it away.

“I called Sawyer last night,” Willow pipes up.

“You what? No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know there was anything bad going on between

you two. He told me you were there because of him, and he took your car home.”

“Shit. Well, whatever. I’m not his problem anymore anyway, so he can kick

rocks.” I know I’m being petty, but it’s how I feel right now.

“So what happened?” she asks. I let out a long exhale.

“Justine came back to town. Turns out Sawyer has an ex-wife, a kid, and a

whole fuck-ton of drama I knew nothing about.”

Willow’s mouth hits the floor, “Wait, hold up. He didn’t tell you about Justine and Tanner and all that? You only just found out?”

“Yup. I actually overheard two older ladies gossiping about it at the Bean &

Bun and Violet filled me in a little. After that, I thought long and hard about it and was ready to forgive him and move forward with things and figure it out like

adults. But when I went back to the cabin, Justine was standing there in Sawyer’s arms and he shooed me away.”

“Shooed you away?” she shouts as she unfolds her legs from under the chair

and stands up.

“Shooed me,” I repeat. We both stare at each other for a moment before Willow shakes her head and starts pacing the floor.

“Wow! That’s literally all I can say. I mean, have you guys talked any more

about it? Did he explain why Justine is back?”

“He was about as vague as possible. When I asked him if the rumor about the

kid being his was true, he just said there’s a lot of shit I don’t know, and that he needs to explain stuff and figure shit out . . . whatever. It was just so convoluted

and gave me zero clarity or closure.” I take a couple big gulps of water and lean my head back against the couch pillows.

“Damn. So, closure, huh? You mean you guys are . . . done?” She winces when she asks the question.

“I don’t have a freaking clue!” I say, waving my arms wildly. I start laughing

because I’m so sick of crying. “He put my shit back down in the lower level of

the cabin because Justine is now staying with him, and when I asked what all this meant for us, he said he didn’t know.”

“Oh, hell no! That is some serious bullshit! You don’t get a woman to fall in

love with you and then rip her heart out with zero explanation and then just say,

‘I don’t know where that leaves us; I need time.’ What a fucking bag of dicks!”

I can tell this is stirring up emotions in Willow about her own past. I take a

few nibbles of the muffin and they go down easier than I thought. I pop the Advil in my mouth and swallow them down with water before letting out another exaggerated sigh. We both sit in silence for a few moments, neither of us sure of what to say that hasn’t already been said.

“I need some of that coffee,” I say as a knock sounds on the front door. We

both look at each other in confusion. “You expecting company? What time is it?”

“No.” She glances at her watch. “It’s almost 11 a.m.” She gets up and walks

to the front door, peering out the peephole before whipping around. “Oh my God, it’s Sawyer!” She’s whispering, but it’s still practically a shout.

“What the hell? I—I’m not—” I look down at myself and see I’m still

wearing the same rumpled, vomit-stained clothes from last night, and I reek of liquor and sweat.

“Quinn, open the damn door. I know you’re in there,” he shouts as he continues to pound on the door.

Willow tiptoes down the hall as I step up and pull the door open. “What the

hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you home. Let’s go.”

“Home? That’s not my home.” I know it’s petty and immature, but in this moment, I’m taking cheap shots.

“Quinn,” he rubs his fingertips over his eyebrows, squeezing them together,

“get your shit and get in the fucking truck. Don’t make me say it again.”

Even when I hate him, the way he bosses me around has my stomach doing a

flip-flop—the good kind. I step back inside and grab my purse before mouthing

thank you to Willow. She nods and gives me a smile as I make my way outside.

Just like before, Sawyer opens the passenger-side door and grips my waist, hoisting me inside.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Quinn? That was really fucking

irresponsible.”

I just roll my eyes and look out the window as we drive back to the cabin.

I’m not in the mood to argue with him.

“So is this your plan now? Give me the silent treatment? That’s really mature.” He says the last part under his breath, but I hear it loud and clear.

“Immature? Really? Pot calling the kettle black much?”

“I’m not going to get into this with you now, Quinn. Not when you’re in this

condition.”

“I’m not in a condition, Sawyer. I’m hung over. It’s perfectly normal for legal-drinking-age adults to sometimes drink their feelings. Especially after they find out that the person they’ve been sleeping with and spending every waking

moment with has a whole other double life. I guess I’m crazy and out of line though!”

I don’t hold back, and I don’t care if he doesn’t want to hear it. I’m pissed.

TWENTY-TWO

SAWYER

The rest of the trip is spent in silence. I’m not in the mood to argue with her

and she’s clearly ready to rip my head off . . . understandably so. When we

pull in, I follow her down to her cabin.

“What are you doing?” She spins around, not letting me in the door.

“I’m seeing to it that you’re taken care of.” I look down at her and even in

her hung over, messy state, I still want to push her up against the wall and teach her a lesson about her behavior last night.

“I’m a big girl, Sawyer. I don’t need your help.”

“Just get in the damn house.” I gently push her inside by her waist and kick

the door shut behind me. I reach for her coat and unzip it, but she steps back.

“I can do it myself.”

I raise my hands and step back as she kicks off her boots and throws her coat

over the back of a chair.

“You better be glad Will didn’t lay his hands on you last night, or you’d be

hearing about me catching a murder charge this morning.”

“I don’t know why you think I want to hear that or what it’s supposed to mean to me. Is that you trying to tell me you still care?” She looks defiant, like she’s ready to fight me, and I just want to break through that hard exterior.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I fucked up big-time, Quinn, but that doesn’t mean I

don’t still worry about you or care about you.”

She stands there staring at me for a moment before walking toward the bathroom. She stops when she gets to the door and spins around. “You’d better

be gone when I get out.”

I’m not gone when she gets out, and I have no intention of leaving until she

hears what I have to say. I make a pot of coffee while she showers, then I take a seat on her bed. She walks out of the bathroom in a towel, then she sees me.

“I thought I told you to leave.”

“And I told you we’re going to talk.”

“So that’s how it is now? You tell me to do something and that’s that?” She

crosses her arms over her chest. I stand up and walk toward her until I’m standing over her.

“That’s how it’s always been with us, baby.” I reach down and place my hand under her chin, tilting it upward. “And that’s how you like it, isn’t it?” I keep walking forward as she backs up. “I see the look in your eyes when I tell

you to bend over or open your mouth or come for me.”

Her back hits the wall, but I don’t stop walking until I’m pressed up against

her. Her chest rises and falls with her rapid breathing, and I see her throat constrict as she swallows.

I don’t move away right away. I linger over her, letting my words sink in.

She can hate me all she wants, but she can’t deny the way her body responds to

me. In an instant, she’s clawing at me, pulling my shirt out of my jeans and tearing it open, sending buttons skittering across the floor. I make no effort to stop her as she frantically pulls at my belt and zipper, freeing my rock-hard cock in one swift motion.

I grip her firmly behind the neck, pulling her lips to mine as I kiss her hard

and fast. I don’t hold back either. I need her. I reach down and rip the towel from her body, leaving her fully exposed to me as she drops to her knees and grabs my

cock at the base before wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Gaahhh,” is all I can manage to say. I place my hands on the wall behind her and look down, watching as her head bobs up and down my shaft. She lifts

her gaze so that our eyes meet, and it guts me and turns me on even more at the

same time. Her big blue eyes lock on mine as she takes me deeper. The sounds

of her sucking fill the room and I know I won’t last long. I piston my hips forward and she gags. I don’t apologize, because fuck if that isn’t the most

beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I do it again, and this time she holds it a little longer before dragging her lips and tongue all the way down to the tip. I feel my legs begin to shake as my release is about to explode.

“Baby, stop, I don’t want to come like this.”

She doesn’t stop, so I lean down and grab her, lifting her up and pressing her

against the wall before I enter her in one swift motion. She cries out with pleasure, but it doesn’t stop me. Nothing can stop me in this moment. I can’t get enough of her.

I thrust harder and harder, slamming her back into the wall as I bury my head

in her neck. She grips my hair as I feel her body begin to tremble and come undone with an explosive orgasm. She screams and her thighs squeeze me as my

own release follows shortly after.

We both stand there with her legs still wrapped around me as we come down

from the high. Our breathing is erratic and loud, and a thin layer of sweat coats her body. I don’t say a word as I walk us both to the bathroom and turn the shower back on.

I put her down and she steps into the shower while I undress and step inside

behind her. Neither of us speaks as I wash her. I take my time memorizing her

body as if I hadn’t already, and when we finish, I take my time drying her off.

We dress and I pour us each a cup of coffee as we take a seat in the living

room. The second hand of the clock on the mantle ticks loudly, its sound filling

the room. “I owe you an explanation and a legitimate apology,” I begin. She doesn’t respond and just tucks her feet up under herself as she cradles her mug.

I don’t know where to start with the story, so I just figure I’ll start at the beginning so she truly understands the situation. “Justine and I met years ago.

She was young and a local bartender. It started out as just a casual thing, hooking up here and there. We did that for a few years, but then when things took a turn

for the worst with my dad, the dynamic between the two of us changed. She was

there for me in a real way. She comforted me and listened. I thought it meant she loved me—and maybe she truly did. I don’t know. I did love her at one time, and

I know my feelings were real.”

“Do you still? Love her, that is?”

“No.” I don’t have to think twice about the answer, and I see a bit of relief wash over Quinn’s face. “So I proposed to her and we got married within the year. My dad ended up dying and I kind of lost sight of myself and really just internalized everything and pushed people away. Anyway, I thought things were

still okay between us. We had our arguments like anyone else, but I didn’t think

it was as bad as it was. Then I came home one day and caught her in our bed with my best friend, Tanner.”

I see her flinch when I say that, like most people do. It’s a pretty big kick to

the cojones when your wife not only cheats on you, but does it with your best friend in your own goddamn marital bed. It’s like being kicked when you’re down, and then spat on.

“A few weeks before I found them together, we’d found out that Justine was

pregnant. I was ecstatic, because I thought the kid was mine, of course. I was none the wiser about their affair at the time.” I rub my hand over my beard, trying not to get pissed all over again. “So when I caught them, it was like the

shit hit the fan. She was a completely different person. Instead of apologizing or trying to work things out, she blew up at me. Blamed me for everything. Said the

baby wasn’t mine either. Truth is, I wasn’t a perfect husband, but I didn’t see it coming at all.”

I look up at her, but she doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me with those

big, beautiful eyes and it makes my heart hurt. The thing I hate the most in all

this isn’t reliving my past or even dealing with Justine’s bullshit again . . . it’s hurting Quinn. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Anyway, she and Tanner ran off to Denver together. I signed all the divorce

papers, it was finalized with 90 days, and I haven’t seen or heard from them since. Until now. I’d heard a rumor from Drake a while back that Justine had been spotted around town and was tellin’ people that her daughter was mine, but

I didn’t think there was any merit in it, so I ignored it.”

“Wait. You knew she was telling people that weeks or months ago and never

said anything to me?”

Fuck. I knew this wouldn’t go over well. “Yes, and that was wrong of me and I know that. Honestly, Quinn, I thought this was just some ploy of hers because

Tanner had probably run off like he always does. I thought it would blow over when he showed back up in her life, but it didn’t. I see that now. I was wrong—I

was so wrong, Quinn, and I’m truly sorry. I wish so badly I could take it back and make things right by you, but I know I can’t.”

“So what’s happening now? I’m still confused about everything. Are you the

father?”

“I don’t know. She swears up and down that I am, but I don’t trust her. I told

her the day she left me for Tanner that he’d do this. He’s always been this way.

The guy has a good heart, but he can’t commit to shit. I think he’s run off to some new thing and now she realizes it’s not puppy dogs and rainbows anymore

and she can’t do it alone.”

“So she’s blackmailing you?”

I can see the disbelief in her eyes. “No. She isn’t threatening me with anything, Quinn, but if that little girl is mine, I will do right by her. I won’t be a piece of shit deadbeat dad. I’ll provide for her and give her the life she deserves.”

I can see her thinking things over as she opens her mouth to say something,

then closes it again. I try to reassure her some more. “I don’t know what that means for us right now. I don’t want to be with Justine, but I also know that I need to be there for Trixie right now. That’s my priority.” It kills me to say the words, but she deserves to know the truth.

“I understand, and I actually respect you for feeling that way. I didn’t have a

dad growing up, so I know what it’s like. No child deserves that.”

We sit in silence for a moment, and she stares at the carpet, unblinking, while

I fish for what to say next.

She finally says, “I think I need some time right now if that’s OK. I know you said you needed time to figure stuff out, and I think I do as well.”

“Of course. I understand.” I stand up and she does too. I grab her and pull her in for a hug and she doesn’t resist. We stand like that for the longest time, just holding each other.

“Can we plan on dinner in a few nights?” I ask, hoping and praying she says

yes.

She pulls back and wipes away a few stray tears, “Yeah, I’d like that.” A small smile cracks her exterior for a brief moment, and it feels like my heart is about to explode.

TWENTY-THREE

QUINN

I t’s been three days since Sawyer came over and explained everything. If I’m

honest, I wanted to jump back in like nothing had changed. The moment our

lips touched, I felt my resolve crumbling.

As I lay in bed that night, I wondered if that was the last time we’d make love. Was that him saying goodbye to me? I contemplated calling Gen and telling her everything that was going on, but ultimately decided against it. I needed to give myself and Sawyer time to figure this out on our own.

Violet and Willow have both been texting me, along with Pearl and Jade. I assume all of them now know what’s going on. I told them I was okay but needed some space, and they understood.

I pick up my phone and type out a text to Sawyer.

ME

Dinner tonight OK? 6?

He responds almost instantly.

SAWYER

Yup.

It’s short, but at least it’s something. I’ve spent the last three days writing nonstop. I don’t try to filter my thoughts or emotions through it either. I just let it all spill out on my laptop screen. I don’t know what the future holds for Sawyer

and me, but I know that this book contains every thought and feeling I have

about us, and I plan on giving it to him before I leave.

“HEY.” A smile forms naturally when I see him standing on the other side of the

door. I’ve missed him.

“Hey, yourself,” he says, handing me a bottle of wine before stepping inside.

“Thanks for coming over for dinner.” Our small talk feels a little awkward,

like we’re strangers again, and it makes me uneasy.

“Thanks for inviting me. Smells delicious.” He takes off his shoes as I carry

the wine to the kitchen. He follows behind me, reaching above me to help grab

the wine goblets on the top shelf. I can smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of him against me. I spin around and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest for a moment. He just stands there with a wine glass in each hand, finally setting them down on the counter behind me as he wraps his arms

around my waist.

“You okay?” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. I nod, but it’s a lie. I’m not

okay.

“Yeah, sorry, just missed that . . . missed you is all,” I say as I step around

him as he pours the wine and serves up hearty bowls of chili. “It’s cold out, so it felt like a good excuse to make chili. I hope that’s okay?” I add on. He nods and we take our food and sit at the small table just off the kitchen.

We eat in silence for what feels like forever when he finally offers up some

conversation. “You thought about where you’re going when your lease here is up?”

It’s not the conversation I was expecting, and it feels like someone just stabbed me in the heart with an icicle. I choke down a mouthful of chili even though I feel like I’m about to lose it on the kitchen table.

“Uh, no, I haven’t really. I’ve still got a few weeks here.”

“Hawaii has got to be better than here. No snow or cold.” I see his eyes study

me for a moment before they drop back down to his bowl. It’s now that I notice

he isn’t really eating—just moving the soup around his bowl with his spoon.

“Hawaii?”

“Yeah, you’d mentioned it before. Said it was somewhere you’d always

wanted to go.” I think for a moment, recalling that I had mentioned it mostly as a fantasy when we were relaxing in the hammock. All the places I’d mentioned going were places I thought we’d be going, not anyplace I’d go after here . . .

alone.

“Do you not like the chili or something? Too spicy?” I ask motioning to his

bowl as he continues to move it around mindlessly. “What’s that saying? ‘Don’t

play with your food, eat it’?” I giggle, trying to lighten the mood.

“I—I can’t do this,” he says, standing up so abruptly his chair falls over. The

smacking sound it makes on the hardwood floor causes me to jump.

“Can’t do what? What’s going on with everything, Sawyer?” I ask even

though I don’t really want to know the answer.

“This, Quinn. You and me. It’s not going to work.”

He doesn’t give me any more of an explanation before walking to the front

door and putting on his boots. I sit in stone-cold silence as I stare forward in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before I hear the door click shut behind him.

THREE MORE DAYS HAVE PASSED. Three more agonizing, slow, painful

days in which I haven’t seen or heard from Sawyer. I stare at the final words of

my novel, The End, and realize that this is the actual end. The end of us.

I spent all morning packing. I technically still have the cabin for 16 more days, but I’ve decided there’s no point in staying here. I’m going to tell Sawyer everything tonight. I’m going to give him one last chance to hear me out—to tell

me how he feels—and then I’m going home. I can’t keep fighting for someone

who doesn’t want me.

I close the laptop and let out a shaky breath. I had planned on giving the

book to him when I left, but I didn’t think about the logistics of it all. I don’t have a printer and I don’t want to email it to him on the off chance he never sees it. If I go to him in person and tell him how I feel, what he means to me, and that I want a life here with him, and he rejects me, then I don’t want to share the rest of what I wrote in the book with him. It feels too raw to be that vulnerable and

exposed. It may just end up being a diary filled with a time in my life I wanted to capture.

I stand up, stretch, and look at the clock. It’s going on 7 p.m., so Sawyer should be home and done with dinner by now, although I have no idea what his

schedule is like now with Justine and Trixie living with him. Weirdly, I haven’t

seen much of any of them. I guess I’ve been doing a pretty damn good job of avoiding them as much as I assume they’ve been avoiding me.

I put on my shoes and hoodie and make the walk up to Sawyer’s door. I take

a few deep breaths and shake out my arms before I knock. The door opens almost immediately and it’s Sawyer. His eyes bug out like he’s surprised to see

me.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but can we talk for a minute?”

He glances over his shoulder before sliding his feet into his slippers and stepping outside onto the porch. I didn’t expect him to invite me in, but it just feels weird that I’m treated like a complete stranger when just a few short days

ago, I was living with him like we were a couple—sharing a bed, making memories, and building what felt like a future.

“Can we go down to your place?” he asks, motioning toward the steps. I nod

and follow him down to my balcony. I turn before we get to the door. I don’t want to let him inside and see that my stuff is packed. I don’t want him to know

I’m leaving.

“I’m in love with you.” The words tumble out of my mouth and I do nothing

to stop them. I’m not holding back any longer.

“Quinn, please don’t. You can’t. You don’t love me.”

I want to slap him. How fucking dare he try to tell me after all this that my

feelings aren’t real.

“No. No, you don’t get to tell me that. To tell me how I feel.” The tears start

pouring out and I wipe them away with the sleeve of my hoodie. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” I say as I pound my fist against his chest. He just stands there.

“I know you think you love me, but it’s not real, Quinn. None of this is. My

life is messy and broken and filled with so much shit that you don’t need or deserve. You’d just gone through one of the hardest times of your life when you

came here, and I was the perfect distraction—someone you could get lost in, someone you could talk to. I was a love of convenience.”

His words feel like tiny daggers piercing every bit of my soul. How can he

think that?

“That is NOT true. You love me. I know you do,” I say as I look up at him

through blurry eyes. All I want is a reason to stay. A reason to not run away. I fist his shirt as the tears flow down my cheeks and I whisper my plea over and over

again: “Please give me one reason. Just one. Please.” But my words hang in the

air, met with nothing but silence and the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces.

In this moment, I hate him for making me fall in love with him, and I hate

myself for begging him to stay in my life. This isn’t what love is supposed to be.

“You thought I was just a love of convenience, but it was the love of a lifetime. That’s how you treated me, and that’s how you’re treating me now—as

a convenience rather than a choice. That’s the difference between us, Sawyer: you hide behind your fear and hurt and mistakes. I shared mine with you. I opened my scars up for you.”

He stands there staring at me, his face expressionless. How can he be so cold

in this moment? But I don’t stop. I promised myself I was going to say what I

felt, and that’s what I’m doing. I have to get this out; he has to hear it.

“At the first sign of rough waters, you bailed and left me to sink or swim, and right now, I choose to swim, because I don’t want to drown in tears . . . I want to drown in love.”

I lift my chin to look up and meet his gaze one more time. I try to read him,

but it’s like I don’t even recognize the man behind those icy gray eyes anymore.

As bad as my heart is breaking in this moment, I realize that he’ll always be my

favorite mistake. My favorite heartbreak.

“OH MY GOD, sweetie, what are you doing home? We didn’t expect you to get

here until Christmas Eve!”

Gen pulls me in for a hug and I lose it. I promised myself that after I poured

out my heart and soul to Sawyer and he did nothing but stand there, I wouldn’t

shed another tear for him—and that lasted all of 12 hours.

I didn’t bother telling him goodbye after our talk. I went back inside the cabin after he stood there saying nothing, and I waited him for to leave. Once he left, I grabbed my suitcase and purse and drove straight home through the night.

It’s just past 8 a.m. now, and I’m so grateful it’s a Saturday and Gen’s home.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” She pulls back and looks at me as snot and tears run

down my face. Cue horrible ugly cry. I can’t talk. I just shake my head and she

pulls me back in for another hug.

“Here, come inside,” she says, pulling me and shutting the door behind us.

“Did you drive all night?” I nod. “Jesus, Quinn.” She walks over and pours us each a cup of coffee and I sit at her kitchen table.

“I’m sorry.” More tears.

“Don’t apologize. Seriously. I’m just glad you made it here safely in your condition.” She glances at the clock on the stove. “Liv won’t be up for another

few hours. She’s hitting that preteen phase where she stays up well past her bedtime and refuses to wake up at a reasonable hour. We can talk, or if you just

want to go to bed, that’s fine.”

I take a few gulps of the hot coffee and it feels amazing. I’m sure I look as

horrible as I feel right now: zero sleep and running on emotional fumes.

“Thanks, Gen. Honestly, I think I just need some time. A hot shower and a

bed sound amazing.” I reach across the table and give her hand a squeeze.

After a scalding shower in which I lingered a little too long—my fingers and

toes are all pruny—I crawl into Gen’s guest bed and immediately fall asleep.

I wake a few hours later to Livy jumping on the bed. “Auntie Quinn, wake up!”

I laugh at the unexpected intrusion and grab her, flipping her on her back and

making her squeal.

“I know you’re grown up and too cool for everything now, but you’re always

going to be my little Livy.” I brush a strand of her hair out of her face and look down at her big green eyes.

“You look sad, Aunt Quinn. What’s wrong?”

I don’t want to destroy her little innocent world with my all-too-real issues.

“Nothing, baby girl. I just missed you and your mom so much that I said, ‘That’s

it,’ and drove right home to see you.”

“She’s asked about you every single day, ya know,” Gen says from the

doorway. “Come on, Liv, your dad is going to be here in 15 minutes, and you still don’t have your bag packed.”

One thing I’ve always admired about Gen is the relationship she’s managed

to cultivate and keep with her ex, Liv’s dad. When she got pregnant at 16 and he

was 18, it lasted about three weeks into her pregnancy before they called it quits, but that didn’t stop Gen from making sure Livy had her dad in her life. It wasn’t easy for a long time, but they’re actually good friends now and co-parent better

than any couple I know.

After Livy says goodbye to us, Gen and I take a seat on the couch and I finally fill her in on everything. To say she’s livid is an understatement. I have to talk her off the ledge of jumping in her car and driving to Grand Lake to, as she put it, castrate that sick son of a bitch piece of shit.

“Gen, listen to me, please. I appreciate your willingness to defend my honor

and put yourself in prison in the process, but this is something I need to handle on my own.”

She smiles and pulls me in for what is probably the 30th hug of the night. As

much I want to believe I can handle all of this on my own, the fact that my period is three weeks late has me doubting it.

TWENTY-FOUR

SAWYER

Standing there listening to Quinn pour her heart out and doing nothing to

comfort her was the lowest point in my life. Worse than walking in and seeing my best friend’s naked ass in my bed as he fucked my wife. I feel like shit. I look like shit. There’s nothing that anyone can do to make this situation better.

I know I’ve been a dick to everyone around me for the last five weeks, but I

don’t give a fuck. The morning after my talk with Quinn, I woke up to see her

car gone and I knew she’d left. It took me two weeks to even be able to go into

her part of the cabin. I’d hoped she’d left a note, but there was nothing. I don’t blame her. I didn’t deserve an explanation.

I pull out my phone for the thousandth time. My fingers hover over the keys

as I try to think what I could send her that would merit a response.

I’m sorry. Delete.

I love you more than anything. I fucked up. Delete.

I put the phone back in my pocket just as I feel Justine’s hands glide over my

back. “Hey, hon, what are you thinking for dinner tonight? I thought we could try this new place that opened up in Loveland. I guess they’re going to be your

competition once you guys get around to opening up your restaurant.”

She laughs and it makes my skin crawl. I recoil from her touch. Everything

she says to me is underhanded and condescending. Was it always like that? Did I

just think that kind of behavior in a relationship was normal? One thing I can say for sure: Quinn never talked to me like that.

“We’re not together, Justine, and I don’t care what you do for dinner.” I’m getting tired of reminding her that there’s zero hope of a future with us.

“I know we’re not, but I don’t know why you have to keep saying that shit to

me. Jesus, you know, you’ve been such a dick since your little girlfriend took off. I’m not surprised she left.”

I take a deep breath and tell myself to be the bigger person. Take the high road, I say to myself. “I’m sorry.” I say the words, but in reality, I’m not sure I actually mean them. “Justine, we need to talk about things.”

“About what?” she says, a look of boredom already settling across her face.

Every time I try to bring up what we’re going to do about us and Trixie, she gets defensive and says I’m being a deadbeat dad.

“I’ve told you this a hundred times: I will support that little girl until the day I die, but I still want a paternity test.”

“God, not this again. You know, that’s a pretty fucking low blow. How are you going to feel when the test shows you are her dad? And then what? You finally going to stop stalling and play daddy?”

“Play daddy? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? We both know that little girl

looks exactly like Tanner. I didn’t say that if the test was negative, I’d bail. I made a promise to you and I’m sticking to it. If that test reveals that he’s the father, I’ll do everything in my power to get his worthless ass back here and get him a job so he can support you both like he’s supposed to. In the meantime, I’ve given you both a home, free food, and I tuck that little girl in every fucking night. You know how hard it is to not fall in love with her when I know she’s probably not mine?” I’m yelling at this point, temper be damned.

I’m not proud of my reaction. I can feel my blood pressure shooting through

the roof and I feel like shit the instant I finish yelling. I step outside for a moment to clear my head. I know there’s more to this than the fact that I feel like Justine is just taking advantage of me.

I miss Quinn. I hate that I broke her heart. I thought I was doing the right thing. I can’t ask her to stay in this town when there’s so much more out there

for her to explore. I can’t ask her to love me. I thought that by making her think I wasn’t in love with her—that what we had wasn’t real—it would be easier for

her to move on, to hate me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m completely losing a grip on things, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do.

I look up to the sky. “Goddammit, pops, why’d you have to leave me?” I start walking and I don’t even bother grabbing a coat. I have no idea where I’m

going, but I know I can’t be in this house right now. Somehow I’ve managed to

completely derail my life these last few years and I don’t know how.

I’VE BEEN WALKING for two hours. By the time I return to the cabin, the cold

wind has numbed my body. It reminds me of the day I found Quinn in the snow,

nearly frozen to death. My chest tightens. I’d give anything to hold her right now. It hits me all at once—an overwhelming need to have her in my life and to

fix this situation. She’s the one. She’s my forever. She’s right, I treated her like a convenience when she was everything. I march back up the hill toward my house

and storm through the front door.

“Is she mine?”

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“I’m not going to ask again. You can either tell me and I can help you fix this, or you can continue to lie and let the courts decide. Either way, I don’t love you, Justine. I can’t love you. I’m in love with Quinn, the woman who was here

when you arrived. I broke her heart and mine, and I’m not going to let her go.

I’m going to make things right with her and build a life with her. If Trixie is mine, then Quinn is going to be part of her life too, so you might as well set the record straight now, because it’s no longer going to stop me from moving on with my life.”

Silence hangs heavily between us as Justine fiddles with the water bottle in

her hand. “No. No, she’s not yours.” She hangs her head.

I’m shocked—not that Trixie isn’t mine, because everyone can see that, but

because Justine’s actually being honest. “Thank you,” I say softly.

I don’t bother explaining anything to her. I grab my coat and keys and jump

in my truck. I’m heading to Montana to find Tanner and fix this shit once and for all.

IT TOOK LESS than 24 hours for me to find Tanner. Luckily, Blake Winthrop,

Pearl’s husband, was up in Bozeman working a job and spotted him. I crashed at

the hotel where Blake and his crew are staying and filled him in on everything.

“Shit, man. Shit! That is wild.” He pats me on the back while I sip my beer at

the hotel bar.

“Yeah. Shit is exactly right,” I reply.

“I knew something was going on. Pearl was filling me in on things with Quinn, but I had no idea she left and Justine had started all this drama up again.”

We both sit at the bar for a little longer before I decide to head to Tanner’s

apartment. After I found out he was in Bozeman and I asked around town, I discovered he was renting a small apartment in town and working at a local ski

resort. I needed some time to call Drake Slade to make sure I could offer Tanner

a job at the brewery.

I toss $20 on the bar top and give Blake a nod. “I’ll call you if I need to get

bailed out of jail.” He laughs but I’m only half-joking.

I bang on Tanner’s door for the third time, “Answer the fucking door, Tanner!”

He finally answers and hides behind it a bit, but I push my way inside.

“It’s time we had a talk.”

“I SWEAR I had no idea she was going to do that! She really said you’re the

father?” Tanner leans his elbows on his knees and cradles his head in his hands.

“Fuck, man . . .”

“What did you expect her to do? You bailed and left her as a single mom with no money.”

“That’s not true!” He whips his head up to look at me, “I’ve been sending her

more than 60 percent of my paycheck every month. I barely keep enough to pay

my rent and buy some food.”

I just shake my head. These two are a fucking pair. She definitely never told

me she’d been getting money twice a month from Tanner. I tried getting her to

work the counter at my Jeep rental company, but of course, she always had a reason she couldn’t. Stands to reason since she was already getting money.

“Listen, Tanner,” I stand up, “I’m not here to rehash the past. I don’t even hate you or her, but I’m here to tell you that you have to make things right with her. You’re a father and that little girl needs you. I don’t even care why you left or what problems you and Justine are having. You’re a better man than this.”

He hangs his head again. “I’m a piece of shit.”

“No, I’m not here to listen to your pity party either. This isn’t about you. It’s about that little girl.”

“I miss her so much.” He lets out a sad chuckle as a tear trickles down his

cheek. “Being a dad is the best thing in the world. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I thought if I left, it would be easier for her. She wouldn’t have to deal with Justine and me fighting all the time or seeing her mom cry. I just thought I could take some time away.”

“Life doesn’t work like that.” I say the words even though I know I’m preaching to the choir here. I just did the same thing to Quinn and I don’t have a leg to stand on. But I realize that now, and I’m working to right my wrongs.

“Listen, I spoke to Drake Slade and he’s willing to give you a chance. He said you’re more than welcome to work at the brewery. The pay is great, and he’s offering full benefits and as much overtime as you can handle.”

He doesn’t look at me but nods his head in silence. I continue, “This isn’t going to be another one of your work there for six months and then just randomly bail jobs , or the next time we see each other, it won’t be so civil. I’m putting my neck out there for you, Tanner.”

He stands up and throws his arms around my neck as he chokes out a sob.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The next morning, I help Tanner pack up his stuff from the apartment and follow him back to Virginia Dale. I don’t bother going to the cabin; I know he

and Justine need space to talk things out. I have no idea if Justine will want another chance with him, but I know she’ll do what she has to so she can keep

him in Trixie’s life.

I packed my fishing supplies in the back of my truck before I even went up

to Montana. I knew I’d need to get out and clear my head however things went

down. I cast my rod and think back to the last time I was down at this river. It

was with Quinn.

I know I want her back, but more importantly, I just want her to be happy. I

know she’s back in Idaho. I managed to get it out of Jade, who made me promise

I wouldn’t try to talk to her. I know she needs time, and with Christmas a few days away, I have no intention of ruining her holidays.

I go back and forth about how and when I should reach out to her, or if I should at all. Is it selfish of me? Has she moved on? Would reaching out only cause her more pain? Does she still feel the same way she did the night she left?

TWENTY-FIVE

QUINN

I stare at the alert from the app on my phone: Did you have a period last

month? I’ve used the app to track my period for the last three years, and every month, I get it like clockwork . . . but not this month.

“No, no, no.” I don’t even realize I’m saying the words out loud as I look down at my phone and try to mentally calculate the dates.

“What’s going on?” Gen asks as she finishes placing a few presents under the Christmas tree.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” I hit the button on the side of the phone, causing the

screen to go black. I’m not ready to talk about this, especially with it being Christmas Eve.

“You doing okay?” she asks, rubbing both of my arms. As much as I love Gen, living with her these last few weeks is starting to be too much. It’s time to find my own place, especially with a possible new addition on the way.

“I’m good, Gen. You really don’t need to ask me 34 times a day.” She rolls

her eyes and bends down to plug in the lights. “So what time are we heading to

your parents’ place tomorrow?”

“Mom wants us there by 9 a.m. so we can open presents before brunch. She

better have mimosas if she expects us there that early.”

Gen and I decided to celebrate Christmas Eve at her house with just us and

Livy. We have pizza ordered, several board games to choose from, and a dumpster’s worth of candy to munch on.

Livy comes running into the room in the new cat pajamas I bought her.

“Twins!” she squeals as she points at mine. We spend the next several hours battling it out over Uno, Sorry, and Mouse Trap, all of which Livy wins.

“Let’s open a bottle of wine and have an adult Christmas Eve.” Gen winks at

me after Livy heads to bed and we clean up the results of our game night.

“Actually, I think I’m just going to head to bed myself. I’m feeling a little tired.” I stretch my arms overhead even though I’m not tired in the slightest. All I can think about is the fact that I’m probably pregnant and I miss my mom more

than anything right now.

“You sure?” She holds up the wine bottle.

“Yeah, but thanks.” I can tell by the look on her face that she’s a little disappointed, but she wishes me a good night as I turn to walk to my room.

“Hey, I know this is the first Christmas without your mom. I didn’t forget, Quinn. I just figured you don’t want to have people point it out, ya know?

Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Family sticks together.”

“Yeah, no, I know. Thanks for everything, Gen. You’re always amazing.” I give her a hug and head to my room, praying I can just pass out when my head

hits the pillow.

TWO LINES. It’s positive. I’m pregnant.

I stare at the test again in disbelief. I don’t understand how this happened. I

know we didn’t always use a condom, but I’ve been on birth control since I was

15. I didn’t miss a pill—hell, I haven’t even been late taking one in a decade.

I frantically open the second box, sending the tests flying across the bathroom as I try to calm my nerves. I take them both and each yields the same

result.

I sink down to the floor with my back against the wall. I pull my knees to my

chest and hug them tightly against me as I begin to sob. I’m not sure if they’re

sobs of sadness or fear—or both. I do know one thing though: it’s not regret.

I don’t regret that I fell in love with Sawyer, and I don’t regret that he gave

me this baby. I feel a sudden surge of strength, like I know that no matter what happens, I’m going to be the best mother to this little baby. My mom raised me

as a single parent, and I know I can do it. She was strong and protective, and she taught me everything I needed to know to do the same.

“We’re going to be okay,” I say as I rub my still-flat belly. “I’m going to love

you so much with every ounce of my being. You’re going to have an amazing life and nobody is ever going to take you away from me.” I spend the next few

minutes on the floor, talking to my unborn baby, before I flip on the shower and

get ready for the day.

After my shower, I blow-dry my hair thinking about next steps. First things

first: before I tell Gen, I need to schedule a doctor’s appointment. I just bought the generic line tests a few days ago, so I have no idea how far along I am. I want to make sure the baby is healthy before I share the news with Gen. I know

she’ll be extremely supportive as a single mom herself. That being said, I fully

expect her to also give me her opinion on how I should proceed when it comes to

telling Sawyer. If I’m honest, I don’t even know if I want to tell him. I know that, as the father, he deserves to know, but how would that change things? I live in Idaho and he’s in Colorado. He’s made it more than clear that he wants nothing to do with me, and he’s already had an ex show up with a child he didn’t

know was his. I let out a sigh and drop my arms as I say aloud, “Jesus, when did

my life turn into an episode of Maury?”

“Quinn we’re leaving in 10, let’s goooo!” Gen taps on the door.

“I’m ready, just need to throw my clothes on.” I brush my hair one last time

and look my makeup over. Just a dusting of shimmer on my eyes, some blush and mascara and a red gloss because . . . Christmas.

“Oh my God, are we really doing this?” I ask as I look at the hideous mess of

a sweater on my bed. It’s covered in poofy bright cotton balls, bells, weird tinsel, and about 15 cats in Christmas hats on it. “Meowy Christmas . . . WOW. I think you might have just solidified my role as the crazy cat lady, Liv.”

“Do you like it? When I finished it, I told mom, ‘That is so Aunt Quinn!’ It’s

called an ugly Christmas sweater. We made it at school, and it was so much fun,”

Livy says beside me with her bright-pink hideous monstrosity that looks like

unicorns threw up all over it.

“If I’m wearing this, you’re wearing the cats.” Gen points to the giant Santa

in a Speedo on her sweater, complete with giant gold balls dangling from his crotch. It says Grab Christmas by the Balls!

“Yikes!” I say before I burst out laughing at her sweater. It feels good to laugh, and this is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve truly laughed in weeks. “Oh Liv, I do love it.” I pull her in for a hug and a kiss.

We all march through the front door of Gen’s parents’ house with our

obnoxious sweaters on. Gen has just shown me that hers also lights up and plays

music.

“Merry Christmas!”

We’re greeted by my aunt and uncle as we enter the house. “Oh Quinn, sweetheart, that sweater is just so adorable!” my aunt coos.

“I made it!” Liv says.

We hang up our coats and give each other hugs before moving into the front

room. “Okay, ladies, I have your mimosas right here and Liv, sweetie, here’s your orange juice.”

Shit! I panic, unsure of how to handle the situation. “Uh, I’ll pass. I actually just brushed my teeth, so I’m going to let it settle before mixing that with orange juice.” Gen tosses me a questioning look.

“No worries, I’ll just pop this in the fridge and it’ll be there when you want

it,” my aunt tells me.

“What?” I ask Gen, who takes a long, slow sip.

“No wine last night and no mimosa this morning?”

I just shrug, hoping she drops it, and she does.

The day goes by in a flash, and before we know it, we’re pulling back into

Gen’s driveway and I’m carrying a very zonked-out Livy to her bed and tucking

her in.

I change into my pajamas and get ready for bed. I take a moment and sit on

the edge of my bed thinking about all the fun stories and memories we shared today about my mom. Gen’s mom, my mom’s sister, teared up a few times, and

we all shared several tears. It was a much more joyful day than I expected it to

be. Tomorrow I’m going to go to my mom’s grave and tell her all about it.

“Did you take a test?”

I whip my head around to see Gen standing in my doorway. I finish rubbing

some lotion on my hands as I stare at her. I don’t know what to say. It occurs to me for a brief moment that I could lie and act like I don’t know what she’s talking about, but it’s no use. Gen can see right through me.

“Yeah. Four of them.”

“Did you make an appointment yet?” I shake my head no. “You want me to

go with you?”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”

She doesn’t say anything else and just walks over to sit next to me. I lay my

head on her shoulder and cry.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re 10 weeks along! Did you miss two periods?” Gen

asks before shoveling a huge bite of pancakes into her mouth.

After my appointment, we decided to pop into our favorite diner for brunch.

The baby is healthy, the heartbeat is strong, and yes, I’m 10 weeks pregnant. I didn’t find out the sex yet, though the doctor told me I can in about eight more

weeks if I want to.

“I must have, but I swear it was only one. I think the one I did have was just

really light. I guess I didn’t realize that having endometriosis means you can still have your period while pregnant. Honestly, I don’t even know how it happened.

I take the pill.”

“Well, it’s only, like, 97 percent effective, babe. Guess you were that three percent.” She shrugs.

I drop my fork and rub my temples.

“Hey, I didn’t mean for it to sound so nonchalant,” she continues. “You’re going to be okay. You have my parents and me, and I’m sure Sawyer will do whatever it takes to be there and help.”

I don’t say anything and just roll my eyes.

“What? Did he handle it like an asshole?” She has a look on her face like she’s about to fuck someone up.

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Yet?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m even going to. He⁠ —”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Quinn. I’m not saying you have to get back with the man, but he deserves to know.”

“I know, Gen, but he literally just had another ex show up in his life and tell

him he’s a dad, and now I’m about to do that? No thanks. I don’t want any unnecessary complications or drama. My mom raised me just fine on her own.”

She drops her fork and places her napkin on the table, and I know I’m about

to get the business end of her opinion. “Your mom was a single parent because

your dad chose to leave and not be involved. She told him that he was a father

and she tried her hardest to make him be present in your life. She didn’t make the decision to take that option away from you. I didn’t do that either. When I found out I was pregnant and Liv’s father and I had split up, I still made sure that he was involved even if I hated him at the time. I wasn’t going to rob Livy of the experience of having her father, and I wasn’t going to rob him of the experience

of being a father. I’m telling you now, Quinn, you’ll regret it, and your baby will too.”

I look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath. I know she’s right. I’ve known

all along that it’s selfish of me to want to keep this to myself, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to tell Sawyer or say it to his face.

I SIT at my mom’s grave as tears fall from my eyes and land on her headstone.

“Mama, I just don’t know what to do. I need you so much right now.”

I lie down and place my face against the cold stone. I’d give anything to hear

her voice one more time and feel her hold my hand and kiss my cheek—like she

always did when I was sad—and tell me it’s going to be okay.

“I don’t think it’s going to be okay this time, Mama.” I lie there for the longest time. “I feel like I’ve let you down—like you’d be so disappointed in me.”

“She always felt like she let you down—like she disappointed you.” I turn around to see my aunt standing there with a bouquet of poinsettias. I brush away

the tears and stand to hug her.

“Why?”

She grabs my hand and we both sit down next to her grave. “Your mom always felt like you deserved the perfect family, with two parents who loved each other, but she felt like you didn’t get that because of who she married. She always knew that Tony wasn’t the one, but she felt guilty for leaving him. She

felt like she was giving up on him, so she stuck around and ended up pregnant.

She always said that if she had listened to her gut, she’d have met the right man later and had you and would have been able to give you the life that she so wanted for you.”

I’m blown away. I had no idea my mom felt that way, and it makes my heart

hurt. I wish I could have told her that I was so happy with my life. I never once felt cheated by her decisions and I never blamed her. Plus, if she’d waited, her

baby wouldn’t have been me anyway.

I’m now realizing what Gen was saying: the reason I felt that way was because I knew it was my dad’s decision to not be in my life. My mom did everything she could to give him opportunity after opportunity. I can’t do that to my child. I know what I need to do: I have to tell Sawyer, and I know the perfect way to do it.

When I get home, I sit down at my laptop and open up my manuscript. I erase The End and begin the epilogue, because our story isn’t over it yet, and Sawyer needs to know that he’s going to be a father.

TWENTY-SIX

SAWYER

I open the door and see a FedEx man standing there with a package. “Sawyer

Archer?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Sign here.” He holds out his machine and I grab the stylus and sign. “Have

a good one,” he says before jumping in his truck and taking off.

I didn’t even know FedEx delivered this far up the mountain. I glance down

at the package. It’s a thick envelope with no return address. I walk inside and open it, and immediately, I feel like I’m going to be sick. It’s Quinn’s book.

I toss it down on the counter like it burned me. Am I ready to read this? I have no idea what it’s about, but the thought of being inside her head right now

is terrifying. What if it’s basically her diary telling me how much she hates me—

how much I’ve ruined her life?

I spend the rest of the day avoiding the book. I find myself continually staring at it as I walk by. I even pick it up a few times but toss it back down on the counter. I do everything I can to get my mind off of it: chop wood for hours, hike, fish, work on some furniture, finalize some restaurant details, drink too much whiskey. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling as sleep eludes me even after exhausting myself.

I lift the blanket and look down my body at my dick. “Nothing?” I ask it, as

if it’s going to respond. Poor guy hasn’t seen any action since my last time with Quinn, but I also haven’t had the desire since she left. I don’t feel like I deserve to feel good.

I toss and turn for another 30 minutes before kicking off the covers and saying, “Fuck it!” I know I need to read it; I’m only putting off the inevitable.

I get up, pour myself another glass of whiskey, and grab the book, sitting down in front of the fireplace.

I GLANCE up at the clock above the mantle and squint to see the time. The numbers are blurry from staring at the pages for so long, and tears are clouding

my eyes. I’ve been reading for three hours and every page is harder than the page before.

I was right. It’s basically a diary of her thoughts and feelings. This is our love story. I had no idea that this was what she’d been working on. It makes sense that she’d always laugh and refuse to let me read it, saying it would be worth the wait. I always wondered why she told me she was waiting until her lease was over to give me the book. She was hoping it would be our beginning.

It was going to be her chance to tell me how she felt about me—about us—and I ruined it. Instead of it being our beginning, it was our ending.

I can’t sit around any longer. I can’t hope that she still loves me or hope that I made the right choice to push her away. I was wrong. She doesn’t know that truth. She doesn’t know that my ex was right. I pushed Justine away. I drove her

into the arms of another man, and I was terrified of doing that again with Quinn.

I’d convinced myself that instead of being a better man for her, I’d just repeat my past and hurt her like I did Justine.

I place the book on my table and get up to make myself some coffee. It’s just

after 4 a.m., but there’s no use trying to sleep. I take a shower and get dressed, pouring coffee into my thermos and heading out to my truck. There’s only one

thing left for me to do: drive to Idaho and make things right once and for all.

JADE AND WILLOW both confirmed that Quinn was back in Idaho staying

with her cousin, Gen. It didn’t take much of a Google search to find Gen’s address and plug it into my GPS.

Many hours later, I pull into the driveway and see Quinn’s car. I don’t think

twice. I get out of the truck, walk right up to the front door, and knock. A few

seconds later, the door opens and Quinn is standing in front of me. She didn’t expect me to be on the other side of the door, and it’s written all over her face.

“What are you doing here, Sawyer?” Her expression quickly changes from

shocked to emotionless. She’s protecting herself. I get it.

“I got your book.” It’s all I can say, and she just nods. I don’t know what else

to do, so I just say exactly what I’ve been thinking. “Quinn, I need to say this, so just—please just hear me out.” I look up at her with questioning eyes and she crosses her arms.

“I missed all the signs, Quinn. They were right there staring me in the face,

and I fucking missed every one of them. I let you go because I knew that you were the one I wouldn’t survive losing. You were the broken heart I’d never get

over. So instead of hurting you like I did Justine, I chose to hurt myself and walk away before I let you build your home in my heart only to have it burned down

by my thoughtless actions.”

“But I did get hurt, Sawyer! You did the one thing you thought you were avoiding—you broke my heart.” Tears flow down her face and it takes

everything I have not to grab her and hold her.

“I know, I know, and that’s why I’m here. I’m here to make things right.”

She nods her head, though her face becomes impassive again. “So is this you

doing the right thing? Is that why you’re here?” She violently wipes the remaining tears away before they can fall.

“Goddammit, woman, would you let me finish? I’m here because I was

wrong. Dead wrong! I thought I was saving you, but I was destroying us.” I grab

both of her arms and pull her closer to me as I take another step forward.

“This is me trying. Trying to be a better man—to be the man I know I am,

the man you need, the man you want. The man you fell in love with, Quinn. This

is all of me.” She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t stop. “You are the reason I breathe, Quinn. You are my reason for everything. You’re my motivation to be

better. You’re my right hand, my muse, my best friend. The only woman to truly

and fully hold my heart. The only lips I ever want to kiss.” I reach out and rub

my thumb across her bottom lip, and her eyes dart to mine.

Her tears are flowing uncontrollably now as she stares at me. “What about the baby?” she asks.

“It’s not mine. Justine finally came out with it, and she and Tanner are working on things. I know I handled all of that like a complete asshole—like a

bastard—and I don’t deserve a second chance, Quinn. I know that. But I can promise you—” I look up and see she’s removed her hands from mine and is holding her own belly.

“I mean our baby,” she says, her bottom lip quivering.

“Baby?” I say, barely over a whisper. I realize I’ve been standing there staring at her belly. I can’t help it. I fall to my knees and place my hands on her hips as I bury my face in her belly as I sob.

“You didn’t know? I wrote it,” she says, her words breaking.

“I didn’t finish the book,” I confess. “I was so overwhelmed with needing to

see you, needing to tell you how much I loved you, that I just left the house and drove here.” I stand back up. “We’re having a baby?” I ask again in disbelief.

“We’re having a baby,” she says back as a small smile finally breaks across

her face. She stares down at her belly again.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I ask, and it comes out as a plea before she

lunges forward and throws herself toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck. We stand there for minutes before she steps back.

“This . . .” she stumbles with her words as she places her hands against my

chest. “This is all I ever wanted.”

I pull her in for another hug and squeeze her, inhaling her scent and absorbing her warmth. “Quinn, I’m yours forever. I will give my last breath for

you. I’ll bloody my knuckles to protect you and our baby. I will spend every moment left on this earth proving to you that I’m the one you deserve. I can promise you that I’ll never let you drown in tears again; you’ll only ever drown

in a tidal wave of love so strong it will knock you on your ass.”

She looks up at me, a giggle escaping her lips as she presses them to mine.

We have so much to say, but the only way we both want to express ourselves in

this moment is feeling our bodies intertwined as we claim each other.

EPILOGUE

QUINN-NINE MONTHS LATER…

“Baby, you’ve got a certified letter.”

“Shhh, she’s almost asleep,” I say as I look down at Lily. Sawyer

approaches with the letter and leans down, kissing me before planting a soft kiss on Lily’s head.

It’s been nine beautiful months since Sawyer and I reconnected. Our

gorgeous little daughter was born, and we named her Lily after my mom. The rest of my pregnancy and the birth were both uneventful, and we’re both healthy.

We spent the last few months before her birth turning the spare bedroom upstairs

into the nursery and completely redoing the second level of the cabin. Sawyer no

longer rents it out—in fact, we’ve turned his mountain man bachelor retreat into

a beautiful home.

I glance down at her and it feels like my heart is so full, I couldn’t possibly

be any happier.

“Who’s the letter from?” I ask.

He glances down at the envelope. “R&R Publishing in Denver.”

“Can you open it for me?”

A few months ago, I submitted my manuscript to a small publishing house here in Colorado, and I actually completely forgot about it until now. I didn’t exactly have high hopes about it considering I’m a completely unknown author.

“Well, what’s it say?” he asks as I read over the letter.

My breath catches in my throat. “Oh my God!” I gasp. “They want to publish

my book!” I say in a whisper so I don’t wake Lily. I’m trying to stay calm and

read the rest of the letter, but Lily stirs. Sawyer reaches down and takes her from me, turning to place her in her crib. She lets out a soft coo before settling back to sleep. We both step out of the nursery and I run to the front room to finish reading the letter.

“They want more books! Oh my God, there’s a contract in here for four more

books!” I jump up and down as Sawyer lifts me in his arms and twirls me around.

“Congrats, baby.” He lets me slide down his body as he pulls me in for a slow, soft kiss.

I return the kiss as I drop the letter to the floor, wrapping my arms around his

neck and running my fingers through his silky hair. He trails kisses down my neck. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he murmurs against me.

I reach down and pull his belt out of the buckle.

“You sure? You’re not sore from last night?” he asks before dipping his tongue into my mouth.

“I am, but it’s a good sore.”

Since having Lily, we’ve taken things a little easy, but last night, Sawyer let

loose. He had me bent over the kitchen table, with my hands gripping either side

of it. Every time I moved my hand, he’d swat my ass . . . hard. It was fun and

new—something I’d never experienced before. I could see the faintest hint of a

bruise on my hips this morning when I showered, and it made my insides tighten

at the memory.

I don’t wait for him to act. I push him back onto the couch and straddle him,

reaching between us to stroke his cock so I can sit on him. He pulls at my shirt, ripping it over my head to expose my very full breasts. He worshipped my body

during pregnancy and loves how large my breasts have become with

breastfeeding.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s like we’ve become even more keen to one another’s needs. My body responds to his touch like I haven’t felt it in years. It’s like we’re starving for each other. I can feel the wetness pooling between my thighs as he sucks and bites on my nipples—squeezing and massaging my

breasts as I grind against him.

I don’t wait. I reach between us and position his cock so I can slide down him. “Gahhh, yessss.” The words tumble from my mouth as I sheathe him in my

wet heat.

“Fuuuuuuuck, baby.”

Every time he says that, it drives me wild. I lift myself up and slide back down him over and over again. His head lolls back against the couch as he pinches my nipples. His hands slide down my body and grip my waist. “God, your tits look fucking amazing bouncing like that. Ride that big cock, baby, ride it,” he says through gritted teeth.

I can tell he’s close, and so am I. “Come with me, baby,” I say as I feel my

orgasm building. It starts in my toes, and it feels like lightning striking my body as I throw my head back and ride him hard and fast. Wave after wave of pleasure

rips through my body as he grips my hips and holds me down on his dick, both

of us crying out.

I don’t move as I lie against his chest, both of us breathing erratically.

“I feel like we just keep getting better at that,” he says against my neck.

“Mmm, I agree.” I place a hand on either side of his face as I pull him in for

a kiss. “I love you so much, Sawyer. Thank you.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE she’s six months already. That’s crazy!”

“Oh my God, that faaaace! She looks just like Sawyer.”

“Aww, she doesn’t have those roly-poly arms like she did a few weeks ago.

She’s growing up so fast!”

Pearl, Jade, Willow, and the Slade ladies all surround me as I hold Lily.

Tonight is the grand opening of the Slade brothers and Sawyer’s new chop house

restaurant, the Loveland Maple.

“Hey, mind if I steal my ladies for a moment?” Sawyer asks, coming up behind me. All the girls smile and gush and shoo me toward him.

“Hey, handsome,” I say as I lean in and kiss him. He looks drop-dead sexy in

his slim-cut navy suit. I had the best time shopping with him to find a nice suit for tonight . . . and we might have had a little fun together in the dressing room, if you know what I mean.

Sawyer pulls me out back, where there’s a beautiful deck covered in twinkle

lights. The music from indoors is piped outside through the speaker system.

Everyone else is inside doing a tasting, and of course, hitting up the open bar.

It’s a smaller soft open tonight. Just close friends and family. I look inside and see Gen and Livy dancing, and it warms my heart to see my family here.

“Baby, this is an absolute knockout success, and I can’t wait for the grand opening next month,” I tell him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Quinn. You really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He pulls Lily and me in and starts dancing with us.

Lily claps and coos at her daddy with a huge smile.

He pulls her from me and reaches into his pocket, pulling something out as

he kneels down, placing Lily on his planted knee. My hands instantly go to my

mouth.

“Baby, you’ve helped me become a better man and a better father, and I want

to be the best husband for you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

He grips Lily with his arm while holding out the ring. The light hits the diamond and it dances and shimmers. I can’t help the tears that begin to fall as I eagerly nod my head yes.

“Yes!” I shout, and Lily squeals and claps her hands, having no idea what’s

going on, but being excited along with me. He places the ring on my finger and

pulls me in for a kiss.

“Our moment is about to be taken over, so I just want to say one thing.

You’re my everything, Quinn. I never thought I’d be so lucky. Thank you for saving me and loving me when I didn’t deserve it.”

I kiss him softly, choking back tears as I look over my shoulder and see everyone pressed against the window, cheering us on. I look up at Sawyer and Lily, who are both laughing and smiling, and I can’t help but feel like my mom

is here too—laughing and smiling with us.

I never thought I would get the chance to have this—to have true, honest

love and joy with a family of my own. I smile against Sawyer’s shoulder as he pulls me back again, and I think about one of my favorite memories with my mom: dancing in the kitchen to Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” I asked my mom what the song meant, and she told me, “To me, it means that when you’re

young, you see all the bright sides of life and love, but as you get older and hardship creeps in, it’s easy to focus on all the bad things in life. The older you get, the more you’ll start to see both sides of everything, but don’t let it ruin the bright side of life and love. Always remember that those bad things don’t define

us; they simply make us stronger. And sometimes, the moment you think you have it all figured out is right when you realize that you don’t, but if it’s real, it will always be worth it.”

Are you curious about Landon and Willow’s story? You can read it in A Second

Chance at Forever.

The last time I saw Landon Nash, he was leaving town with a target on his

back and my heart in his hands.

Fifteen years later fate brought him back into town and stupidity brought him back into my bed.

THE LAST TIME I SAW LANDON NASH, HE WAS

LEAVING TOWN WITH A TARGET ON HIS BACK

AND MY HEART IN HIS HANDS.

Fifteen years later, fate brought him back into town and stupidity brought

him back into my bed.

It’s hard not to admit that life is passing me by.

It seems like all of my friends boarded the happily ever after train and somehow, I was left twiddling my thumbs when it left the station.

Still pinning for the same man who broke my heart.

Landon and I weren’t just high school sweethearts.

He was it for me, my twin flame.

My everything.

So when he skipped town with only a note, it was like time stood still for me

from that day forward.

But now he’s back and the mysteries surrounding his disappearance are no

clearer.

It feels like everyone in this dead-end town knows something I don’t.

My brothers still hate him.

I still love him.

I’m pretty sure there’s some cliché phrase about history repeating itself when it comes to love but clearly, I never listened.

I thought he was my second chance at forever.

I thought he wouldn’t break my heart all over again.

Instead, I mistook all the warning signs for butterflies.

PROLOGUE

WILLOW…FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER

“You know you’re the love of my life, right?”

Landon places his forehead against mine as our bodies leisurely sway back

and forth to Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat’s “Lucky.” He closes his eyes for a

brief moment as if he’s trying to hold on to this moment forever.

“I told you I’m not having sex with you tonight,” I giggle.

“It’s not about that, Willow.” He lets his hand slip from my waist and tips my

chin up to meet his eyes. “I’m serious. You’re my best friend and the most amazing girl I’ve ever met. I just feel like I won the lottery when I met you.”

“I know. I feel the same way,” I say as I turn my head to rest my cheek against his chest. I inhale his Axe body spray and try to burn this memory into

my brain forever. I know that when you’re 17, you think you’re going to love your boyfriend or girlfriend for the rest of your life and nothing can break you

apart, but I truly believe that’s the case with Landon and me.

“Thanks again for coming tonight. I know it’s probably weird to come back

to high school for prom when you’re almost 21.” I lift my chin to look in his eyes as I loop my arms around his neck. Given that Landon graduated three years before me, I knew there was a chance he wouldn’t want to come back to

high school for my senior prom.

He quickly glances around before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Okay, you two, enough of the sappy bullshit.” Memphis Styles pops up next

to us. “How about we go hit up the parking lot? I’ve got a little somethin’

somethin’ if you know what I mean.” He slaps Landon on the back as his girlfriend, Jade, approaches.

“Sorry, Willow, I tried to tell him to let you guys finish your dance.” She rolls her eyes as Memphis wags his eyebrows at us both.

“Sure, but all four of us walking out together will look suspicious and Miss

Teeter has been eyeing me all night as it is. You guys go first and Willow and I

will be out in a few minutes.” Landon glances around and sure enough, Miss Teeter is giving him serious side-eye.

Landon’s always been a bit of a troublemaker—nothing too serious, just

some pranks and two minor charges. He almost got kicked out of school his senior year for throwing a string of lit firecrackers into an empty bus on the last day of school. No one was injured, but it gave the driver, Mr. Ditmore, quite the scare.

“I parked to the left of the buses, by the back entrance,” Memphis says as he

and Jade give us a nod before heading out of the gymnasium.

Memphis graduated two years ago and is already old enough to drink, so my

guess is he’s got a few bottles in his trunk. He and Jade have been dating for a

while now, and more than likely, they’ll get married within a year or two of Jade graduating.

“So you still planning on coming over to my new apartment this weekend?”

Landon asks as we finish our dance.

“Yeah, I’m super excited to see it. You’re so lucky to have your own place.”

“Things still rough at home?”

“Hmm? Yeah. The only reason my mom let me go with you to the prom

tonight was because I swore on my own grave that I’d be home before 11.” I roll

my eyes and choke back the frustration that’s building in my throat.

“She still hates me, huh?” I see the sadness in Landon’s eyes.

“She doesn’t hate you. It’s my stupid brothers; they’ve poisoned her against

you.”

“They’re your big brothers, so they’re just doing big brother shit. I’m sure they feel a heightened sense of responsibility for you since your dad left. They’ll get over it soon enough when they see that I’m not the same stupid teenager I

was a few years ago.”

I rest my forehead against his chest as the song winds down. “I hope so. I can’t take much more of the lectures at home.”

“Hey, I’m always going to be here no matter what, okay? They’re not going

to scare me off.” He plants a kiss on my forehead before grabbing my hand and

leading me to the gym exit.

We spend the next hour in the parking lot shootin’ the shit with Jade and Memphis and sipping on a bottle of peppermint schnapps before Landon drops

me off at home.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks again for tonight.” I lean across the console of his Chevy S-10 pickup truck and plant my lips on his. I kiss him gently, as the lingering mint from the schnapps mixes with the nicotine from the cigarette he

and Memphis shared. I pull away from him for a moment to look in his eyes and

“I want to . . . soon” is all I can manage to say.

“We will, baby, just when you’re sure and ready. No rush.” He leans forward

again, closing the distance between us and kissing me a little more passionately

this time. “Good night.”

“You’re being naïve, Willow. I know you’re only 17, but that kid is bad news.

He’s only going to ruin your life.” My oldest brother, Ritchie, slams his fist down on the kitchen table, causing my plate to bounce and clatter.

“Mom?” I look over at her, unsure of what I’m expecting her to say or what

I’m even asking her. It’s been two weeks since prom and we’ve repeated this same song and dance almost every single night since. My three brothers tell me

to stay away from Landon and my mom just shakes her head and doesn’t say much of anything.

I roll my eyes and stand up swiftly, causing my chair to fall backward onto

the kitchen floor. “I am so sick of this shit! I’m not a little girl anymore!” I

shout, not even bothering to pick up my chair before storming out of the room.

“She’s going to end up throwing her life away if we don’t do something, Mom,” I hear my middle brother, Beau, say on my way out.

“And so help me God, if she ends up knocked up with his baby . . .” Ritchie

doesn’t finish the threat.

I slam my bedroom door and pace around my room. I don’t understand why

my brothers hate Landon so much. I get that they’re protective, but this goes beyond that. This is some deep-seated hatred that nobody will explain to me.

Whenever I try to ask them why—to explain to me what’s so wrong with Landon

—they tell me I should just trust them, and that it’s more than his past. That there are things I don’t know. He’s had a few minor skirmishes with the law, like a misdemeanor pot charge when he was 19, and a few speeding tickets and warnings for breaking curfew. Maybe they think Landon hasn’t told me about the pot charge and the other minor stuff, but we don’t have secrets between us.

I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a grown woman and it’s time they

recognize that and let me start acting like one. I drop down to my hands and knees and fish under my bed until I feel my backpack. I pull it out and walk over to my dresser, grabbing a few clothing items, some makeup, and my hairbrush before snatching my keys off the bedside table and sneaking out my bedroom window. I don’t take my car; I know they’d hear it start and follow me. Instead, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Landon.

Hey, I need to see you. Can you pick me up at our spot?

I don’t wait for him to respond. I just zip up my hoodie and quicken my pace. Our spot is the local park—the place we go whenever we can’t be at my

house. Before he rented the apartment he’s in now, he lived at his dad’s house about 45 minutes away. I’ve never actually gone inside his dad’s house—I sat in

the car outside once, but that’s it. I don’t know the whole story, but I know that Landon wants nothing to do with his dad, and neither do the locals. My phone

vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to see a notification from Landon.

LANDON

On my way. Be there in five.

“So . . . same argument as last time?”

I nod my head yes as we slowly swing back and forth. Tears threaten to fall,

but I wipe them away before they can.

Landon reaches out and grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Can we go to your place?” I ask. Landon never makes the suggestion to hang out at his apartment. He doesn’t want me to feel pressured to sleep with him or even give me the impression that I’m under some sort of pressure.

He pulls me out of the swing, draping an arm around me as we walk toward

his truck and climb inside to head to his apartment.

It’s bare—really bare. I’ve been here a few times, but I’m always surprised at

the complete lack of anything in the place. He has a small couch and an end table with a lamp on it in the living area, and a bed with no headboard and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom.

“I’m just going to—” I point to the bathroom.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll grab you some water.”

I splash some cool water on my face and take off my hoodie. I run my fingers through my hair, attempting to give it some body before I pinch my cheeks to make them look pink and warm.

When I emerge from the bathroom, he’s leaning against the door frame with

a glass of water. I take a small sip before placing it on the countertop and grabbing his hand. Neither of us says a word as I slowly lead him back toward

his bedroom.

“Are—are you sure, Willow?” Landon asks as we make our way inside the

bedroom.

I slowly nod my head yes as I step toward him. He leans forward, stopping briefly before dipping his head and placing his lips against mine. Our kiss grows

quickly from soft and slow to heated and passionate. His tongue is needy, demanding entrance to my mouth. It feels like fire—a slow burn that escalates into billowing flames that consume me.

I rip at my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion before moving

on to his. I want to feel his naked skin against my own.

I can feel Landon’s fingertips trembling slightly against my bra as he undoes

the clasp and slowly drags the straps down my arms. I let out a sigh as I watch

his eyes drop from mine down to my bare breasts.

My breath catches in my throat as he leans forward and peppers my body with soft kisses. Goosebumps break out across my skin as a shiver runs through

me.

We’ve fooled around several times, but we’ve never gone all the way. He’s

never pressured me and I’ve never felt ready . . . until now. I’m tired of waiting

—tired of wishing and wanting. Tonight I’m giving all of myself to him.

It’s been four delicious days since that night, and I’ve had butterflies dancing in my stomach ever since. Not even the incessant nagging from my brothers can get

me down. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear the sun is shining brighter, food tastes better, and everything just seems to be . . . perfect. And I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about anything in this town before.

“Why’d you need to see me so badly?” I ask as a small giggle escapes my lips. Landon doesn’t answer. He just pulls me to him as my hands rest on my windowsill. He kisses me urgently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah . . . I just missed you is all.”

I study his face for a moment before I move to let him climb in my bedroom

window. The butterflies in my stomach stop dancing for a moment as fear grips

me. Something seems off with him.

“Shh, if my mom or my brothers hear you, they’ll kill you!” I say as he stumbles and we both fall back onto my bed in a fit of whispered laughter. We

quickly get under the covers and I snuggle against his warm chest, inhaling the

body spray I bought him for Christmas last year that he always wears. All the fear and questions I had just a moment ago vanish as I get lost in the comfort of him.

We lie in the darkness for hours, talking about our hopes and dreams. We’ve

always fantasized about getting out of this town—of seeing the world and experiencing new things. We both want more, for ourselves and each other. We

talk about where we’d live, what countries we’d travel to . . . if we’d have kids.

What is it about being so open and honest with each other about what we want

when we’re just 21 years old? Is it naïveté? Or is that we haven’t been beaten down by the world yet?

I take in one last deep inhale as I feel the weight of my eyelids growing heavier with sleep—not realizing that when I wake the next morning, all those dreams and fantasies will be shattered . . . along with my heart.

I blink a few times as the sun shines through my curtains, directly hitting my face. I panic and sit upright, realizing I fell asleep with Landon in my bed last night and my mom could come walking through the door at any second. I grab

my phone and look at the time: 7:13 a.m. I turn around to look beside me, but the bed is empty except for a small piece of paper with my name written on it in Landon’s handwriting.

I smile as I grab it before leaning down and burying my face in the pillow he

was sleeping on. It still smells like him. I roll on my back and open the note, giddy with excitement. It’s short-lived. I read the note, and then read it again and again—trying to make sense of the words, and trying to understand . . . but I can’t.

Wil ow,

I love you more than words can express. You’re my best

friend and the only woman I’ve ever loved . . . the only woman

I ever wil love. But I have to get out of this town. I can’t

explain—at least not right now. I promise that someday I wil .

Someday I’l tel you everything, but right now I can’t risk it.

Please don’t come looking for me, and please don’t try to

contact me. I’l always love you.

Landon

CHAPTER 1

WILLOW-PRESENT DAY…

“To Quinn and Sawyer!” I say in unison with everyone around me as we raise a

glass to our friend’s engagement. I smile as I watch their baby girl, Lily, squeal with excitement as Sawyer pulls Quinn in for a long kiss.

My smile stays in place as I feel my heart clench and ache with longing. I’m

beyond happy for both of them, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that jealousy also mingles with those well-intended feelings.

I grab my glass of wine and step out onto the patio of the Loveland Maple to

get some fresh air. I pull my sweater a little tighter around myself as I look up at the night sky. It’s a crystal clear night and stars dance and twinkle against the pitch black backdrop of the sky. I let out a sigh and blink back the tears I can already feel forming behind my eyes.

It’s been 15 years this month since my heart was broken by Landon Nash, and sadly, it doesn’t seem to be healing quite like I thought it would. I know that your first heartbreak is the worst, but I really thought the sadness would have quickly turned into hatred and then indifference by now, but it hasn’t.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?”

I turn around to see my friend Nina stepping around the corner.

“Oh, hey, just . . . getting some fresh air.”

She walks up next to me and places her elbows on the railing of the patio.

“You okay?” She looks over her shoulder at me.

“Yeah,” I nod, but I’m not sure either of us is convinced by my answer.

“You sure?” she asks again, this time turning to face me. I let out a sigh and

feel my shoulders drop from where they were up by my ears.

“No.” I smile and take a big gulp of my wine.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Depends. You ready to listen to some pretty heavy self-pitying and

wallowing?”

She nods her head and lets out a soft laugh. “Hit me with it.”

“Well, let me preface it all by saying that I am beyond happy for Quinn and

Sawyer, but being here tonight just reinforces how alone I am. And before you

say I have you and Jade and Pearl and everyone, I know that. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m just . . . tired of being alone, tired of the monotony.” I look at the wine in my glass and swirl it around a few times before I finish it off.

“None of those recent dates worked out?” she asks.

I hang my head forward and let out a groan. She gets the point.

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea. Either I’ve known them forever because we live in a small town, or they live three hours away, or they’re just passing through. It’s just getting so old. Like last week, I matched with this guy on a dating app and it showed that he was within 20 miles. He was so handsome and we really seemed

to click, but then he told me he’s actually from Seattle and just here on a work

trip. He clearly only wanted a booty call and I’m not looking for that. That’s not the first time that’s happened, either. I’ve had several guys select their location as local when they were just here on business.”

“What about Ethan over at the Sheriff’s Office? I thought you guys went out

a few times.”

“Yeah, we did, and honestly, he’s great . . .” I don’t finish the sentence. Ethan is fantastic. He’s respectful, handsome, has a great work ethic, and even though

we only kissed, the chemistry was there.

“But?”

I inhale and hold it in for a second before exhaling audibly. “But I don’t know if I want to settle down here, Nina.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I haven’t said that out loud to anyone before—hell, not even to

myself. I kind of feel like I’ve outgrown Grand Lake. I’ve felt that way since I

was 17, actually. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but I think it’s served its purpose in my life and I just need a fresh start. I feel like I’ve been stuck for the last 15 years.”

“Is it Landon?”

The question takes me by surprise. Not because that isn’t the reason, but because that’s exactly the reason. I didn’t expect her to know that after all these years, it’s still weighing on me so heavily.

“Yes and no. It’s everything. It’s weird how a year or so goes by and I feel

perfectly okay—I don’t think about him and I don’t miss him—and then all of a

sudden, I see something that reminds me of our time together and it all comes flooding back, knocks me on my ass, and leaves me scrambling to try to make

sense of it all. I’m about to be 33, Nina. I need to figure out what it is I want in life, and I don’t feel like I can do that here.”

“So what are you saying? You’re leaving?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure yet. I haven’t looked too deeply into anywhere yet,

but I’ve been thinking about moving to Denver. I haven’t actually made a decision or told anyone yet, so if you could just keep it between us . . . ?”

She nods, “Of course. Whatever you need, Willow. You know we’re all here

for you. We’ll support you whatever you choose to do.” She reaches out and rubs

my shoulder with a sympathetic squeeze.

“Twenty-two hundred dollars for a one bed, one bath? Are you kidding me?” I

mutter to myself as I click through some Denver apartment listings. Since my chat with Nina over the weekend, I’ve decided to really up my search game for

an apartment, and even more importantly, a job in Denver. However, with these

rental prices, I don’t know how I’m going to swing it unless I can get a big pay

raise and promotion.

It’s been a slower than normal Monday at Main Bank & Trust, where I work

in Grand Lake. Being a loan officer isn’t my dream job by any stretch of the imagination, but it pays the bills and I love my coworkers.

After high school, I stumbled around for a while, completely directionless, which I realize is the experience of many 18-year-olds. I didn’t have the college path mapped out for me, so I bounced around from job to job: a few summers at

the local custard cup stand, a couple years as a waitress, and four miserable months as a gas station attendant, which is probably as close to hell on earth as it gets. But then I got a job as a teller here at the bank and worked my way up to a supervisor position, and then into the loan department. It’s not terribly interesting work, but I enjoy the small talk with the locals. There’s always some hot gossip going around that makes its way to me.

“Morning, Nancy,” I say over the top of my computer to my coworker who

just burst through the door. Speaking of gossip . . .

“Good morning, Willow,” she says in her sing-song fashion as she places her

things behind the counter before scurrying back over to my desk. “Did you hear

about Silas Nash?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Her pungent perfume settles heavily in my nostrils as she leans in to whisper.

Nancy, God bless her, is your classic small-town gossip. She has good

intentions and a husband who is more long-suffering than I thought possible.

She’s the first to shush you if you’re too loud in public, but the first to bring you chicken noodle soup if you’re sick.

“Uh, no, afraid not.” I try to act casual at the mention of Landon’s father’s name, but in truth, my interest is completely piqued. No one says that name around here all that often unless it’s to curse it or talk about something shady and most likely illegal.

“Well, apparently he died last week.”

“What?” I gasp and my hand instinctively covers my mouth.

“Yeah, the mailman found him. Hadn’t collected his mail for several days, which wasn’t like him. The mailman knocked but nobody came to the door, so

he called the police, and when they came around, they found Silas dead as a doornail in his recliner.” She glances over her shoulder to make sure no one is listening even though she’s whispering and we’re completely alone.

“Oh my God. That’s . . . crazy.” I don’t know what else to say, because the moment she said he was dead, all I could think about was Landon. What does that mean for him? Is he coming back to town?

“Well, if you ask me, he’s had it coming for a long time, what with all the bad things that man has done over the years. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

She taps the side of her nose and winks before turning to walk back to the counter.

“Wait, is—” She walks away before I can ask her if she’s heard anything about Landon coming back to town.

I close the rental website and type Silas Nash’s name into the internet search bar. There it is in black and white from a local newspaper a few towns over: Silas Nash, 63, was found dead in his home. There’s no formal obituary, just a casual announcement that he was survived by one son. It doesn’t give his name

or say where he lives now. I click around some more and find that a few articles are police reports—not surprising given his penchant for illegal activities. I lean closer to my computer, completely lost looking at images—some of which have

nothing to do with Silas Nash—when I hear the electronic buzzer go off, signaling a customer. I ignore it, too engrossed in searching for images in the hope that one of them will show an updated picture of Landon, when I hear Mr.

Harker, the bank president, speak.

“Ah, Mr. Nash, a pleasure to see you, son.”

My back stiffens and I bolt upright, peering over the top of my computer, when I see him. Landon Freaking Nash in the flesh standing a mere 20 feet away

from me. My jaw goes slack as I quickly duck back behind my computer screen.

What the hell am I doing?

I peek around the edge of my computer slowly just as he finishes shaking Mr. Harker’s hand and turns his gaze toward me.

Our eyes lock. My heart stops and it feels like I’ve just swallowed down a mouthful of cotton balls.

He still has the same piercing blue eyes that see right through me. The same

floppy brown hair that falls partially to one side. The same crooked smile that melts through me like a hot knife through butter.

My eyes travel quickly down his arms, which are now covered in tattoos. I still remember when he got his first one. I went with him to the shop. I was so

nervous for him, but he didn’t bat an eye. That was Landon—always fearless and

completely unbothered by what people thought of him. He held my gaze the entire time the artist tattooed him, smiling and joking like it tickled rather than hurt.

But this time, his eyes show no recognition when they land on me. The smile

quickly fades and is replaced by a blank expression as he follows Mr. Harker into his office.

And just like that, all those butterflies I thought had died 15 years ago come

fluttering back.