“You must have missed all this when you moved away,” he said, turning onto the main road. “Sounds like you really love it.”

“Yeah, I do. And I did miss it.”

“Think you’ll stay here for good?”

“Probably,” I said, staring out the window at the familiar landscape—the rolling hills, the orchards and vineyards, the old red barns with their peeling paint, the new faux chateaux of stone and brick. “What about you?”

“Staying. At least, that’s the plan for now.”

I asked him if he’d liked living in New York, and we both agreed it was great in some ways and difficult in others. He confided that the pace of big city life and the demands of his job probably contributed to his relapse. “I like the outdoors a lot,” he said, a little wistfully. “Hiking, fishing, camping. And I didn’t get the chance to do those kinds of things very often. Plus my ex-girlfriend wasn’t into them.”

I was surprised he mentioned her. “A city girl, huh?” I questioned, totally curious.

“Yeah.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rub one finger along the stubble beneath his lower lip. After a moment, he went on. “Actually, she was my fiancée.”

I risked a sideways look at him. “Wow. It was pretty serious then, huh?

“Felt like it. For a while.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged, his jaw stiffening. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry.” You brought it up. Feeling unfairly chastised, I turned my attention out the window again.

A minute or so later, I heard him sigh. “Sorry.”

I looked at him but said nothing. A moment later, he spoke up.

“I lied to her.”

“About what?”

“Losing my job. I got fired from the firm I was with for being late all the time, behaving erratically, and then there was the time I took a few punches at a senior partner for calling me a fuck-up when I missed an important deadline.”

“Yikes.” I had no idea what to say. I mean, I’d been fired too, but his experience sounded worse. “Was it…the OCD?”

“Yeah. I was really stressed out about basically everything in my life, the direction it had taken. It all felt really out of control.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I didn’t tell her about getting fired right away, and she found out a week later.”

“Was she mad?”

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah. She told me she loved me but I’d better get my shit together before the wedding. Then I told her I wasn’t sure she was the one, and she freaked the fuck out.”

“Ouch.” Although secretly I was pleased. Was that mean of me?

He frowned. “Actually, I said I wasn’t even sure I believed in the idea of the one, but even if I did, I wasn’t sure it was her.”

“Double ouch. And the ring was still on her finger at this point?”

“Until she took it off and threw it at me.”

“How’s her aim?”

That actually brought half a smile. “Shitty.”

“Guess it wasn’t meant to be, then,” I said, trying to look on the bright side.

“No, it wasn’t. Sometimes I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.”

I wondered what he meant by that. “Because of the OCD, you mean?”

“Yeah.” His tone had gone darker. “But there were other problems too. I’ve been told I don’t communicate well. Also that I’m stubborn, unpredictable, and a real dick when I want to be.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s quite a list. And she still said yes when you proposed, huh?” Feeling this moment could use some levity, I leaned over and gave his leg a smack. “You must be dynamite in the sack.”

His shoulders relaxed as he cracked a smile. “That list wasn’t all from her,” he said, turning onto a gravel drive that led through the woods. “But come to think of it, I’ve never had any complaints about my sexual prowess.”

“Good to know.” I wanted to keep flirting, but just then the cabin appeared through a clearing, and I gasped. “Sebastian, it’s beautiful!”

“Thanks.” He parked on a gravel drive that looped in front of the house, and I got out of the truck and shut the door behind me. It was so quiet, all I heard were birds and the breeze rustling the leaves on the birch trees.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, clasping my hands beneath my chin. “Look at your cute front porch!” Two wooden rocking chairs sat facing the woods. Two, I thought. Was he eventually thinking he’d share the place with someone? Or did he really just hate the number one?

“Yeah, I like to sit out there in the morning, watch the sun rise while I have coffee.” He went up the steps and unlocked the front door.

“Sunrise?” I winced, following him inside. “I’m more of a sunset sort of girl. The sun rises too early for me.”

He laughed. “Then you’ll like the patio in the back. You could watch the sun set over the bay.”

“Perfect. Show me.”

He took me through the cabin first, apologizing for its lack of furniture and decoration. True, it was a bit sparse, but it had a rustic, masculine beauty about it that just needed a little touch of feminine texture and color. I loved everything he’d done so far, from the floors to the counters to the bathroom tile, and the whole place smelled amazing—like lemon and cedar and Tide. He probably cleaned it constantly because of his OCD. Was it wrong that it sort of turned me on?

“You’ve done a great job, Sebastian. You should be really proud. What’s up there?” I gestured to the ladder leaning on the wall between the kitchen and bath. “Bedroom?”

“Just a loft. But it’s nice. You’ve got to watch your head up there because of the sloping walls—well, I do,” he teased, looking down at me. “But there is a nice big skylight.”

I started to climb, looking over my shoulder. “Mind if I go up?”

Good fucking God.

She was climbing the ladder to my bedroom and her ass was right in front of my face. My cock began to stiffen.

Sweet Jesus, could I please go ten minutes without getting an erection around her?

I’d hardly slept last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and I’d woken up this morning (hard) with her still on my mind, and even though I’d told myself a million times not to go looking for her today, I hadn’t been able to resist. I just want to be around her, I told the doomsayer in me before he could go on the offensive. I won’t touch her. I just like seeing her smile, hearing her chattering bird voice, making her laugh.

“Go ahead,” I told her. “I’ll wait down here.”

She looked down at me with playful eyes, making my heart pump harder. “You can come up too, silly. I don’t think you’re going to try anything.”

Oh no? You should feel my dick right now. “It’s pretty small up there.”

“It’s not small, it’s cozy,” she said, reaching the top. “Get up here.” She moved deeper into the loft so I couldn’t see her anymore, and I quickly adjusted myself before climbing up after her.

When I reached the top, she was standing in front of the huge, sloping window opposite my bed. “You have a family of cardinals,” she said.

“I know. They’re noisy in the morning.” I stood next to her and looked out. Goddamn it, I could smell her. Mostly it was the varnish remover she’d been using, but there was a hint of something sweet and floral beneath it—I fucking loved that she was girlish and feminine but not afraid to work with her hands.

“I thought you were up before the sun, mister coffee-on-the-porch-before-dawn.” She poked me in the ribs, sending a jolt through my veins that seemed to go straight to my cock, and that part of my anatomy didn’t need any more encouragement right now. I moved away from her a little, and she giggled. “What, are you ticklish? Huh? Huh?” She started poking me over and over again, in the ribs, on my stomach, on my chest.