I can picture my father seated in his leather chair in the study, puffing on his old-fashioned Sherlock Holmes pipe while he leans back and reads one of his favorite books. Thin white swirls of smoke would lift out from the pipe and float up in the air until they disappeared into the tall ceiling. When I was seven, I remember giggling as he tried to blow out a perfect smoke ring for me. Being only a part-time pipe smoker, he was impossibly bad at smoke formations, but he tried anyway. The two of us ended up laughing as I sat in his lap on his leather chair with the scent of vanilla smoke teasing my nose.

“So.” Daren’s voice interrupts the memory and I open my eyes. “Where’s this suitcase closet?”

I shake off the nostalgia trying to cling to my skin and straighten my shoulders. “Over here.” I walk him through the living room and down the hall to a skinny door on the left. Then I open the closet.

Inside, several trench coats hang below a shelf of hats, and three old umbrellas stand propped up against the wall. And in the back, on the floor beneath the coats, is a blue suitcase.

“Jackpot!” Daren says with a smile.

I give him a disparaging look. “Jackpot? Really?”

His smile grows. “Oh, come on.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like me saying ‘jackpot’ is tacky. You know you wanted to say something just as clever. Like ‘Eureka!’ or ‘Tallyho!’ ” He raises his fist in exaggerated glee with each exclamation.

I try to look annoyed, but a small smile tugs at my lips when he adds “Bingo!” with an especially exuberant expression. What a goofball.

“I knew it.” He points at my smile. “You like me.” He shows off his dimple and nods. “You think I’m obnoxious but you still like me. Do you want to kiss again?” He leans in and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh my God. You’re ridiculous.” I drop my smile but can’t help the warmth that spreads over my cheeks and down my body. Because a tiny part of me does want to kiss him again. It’s such a foreign feeling for me, wanting to kiss a guy. Yearning to touch him. And I’m not sure if I like it. It makes me feel out of control, like I can’t trust myself.

My eyes sweep over his mouth where his lips, so soft and warm against mine last night, curl into another playful grin, and my heart skips a beat.

Maybe I can’t.

“Can we just do this already?” I say.

“What, kiss? Or have sex?” He looks around. “The floor is kind of dirty but if you insist…” He reaches for the button of his pants.

“Ugh. I’m done talking to you.” I kneel on the floor.

His smile widens. “Oh so now you want to give me a blow job? Make up your mind, woman.”

“Shut up.” I aggressively yank his wrist down so he’s forced to kneel beside me, where we’re within reaching distance of the suitcase. “I’m down here for the suitcase, you idiot.” I can’t help but glance at his jeans, remembering how large he felt in my hand last night.

“Here, I’ll get it.” He drops the teasing attitude and reaches for the suitcase. As he stretches out his arms, his biceps flex and I trail my gaze up his shoulders and over his profile.

He’s built like a model. Lean and cut, with a chiseled jaw and long eyelashes. His mouth is large and masculine but his lips look soft and he smells good. Again. Like citrus.

He slides the suitcase from the closet and positions it by our knees. It’s an old piece of luggage, with a hard outer casing and a thick plastic handle. Tipping the suitcase up at an angle, he pops open the latches. The lid sticks a little at first, but after working at the seam for a moment, he’s able to coax it open with his long fingers.

Inside are three sealed envelopes. One with Daren’s name on it, one with my name on it, and one that reads TO YOU BOTH.

Daren and I lift out the envelopes labeled with our names and take turns opening them. We find a note from my father inside each one.

Daren reads his note privately while I silently read my own.

My sweet Kayla,

As you read this, you are most likely handcuffed to Daren Ackwood. Despite what you may think or assume, Daren is a good soul. If he were anything less, I would not have asked you to lock yourself to his side. Which brings me to why you are here at all. My death.

I love you more than you will ever know, and more than I could ever explain. These last few years being apart from you have been torturous for me. There is so much I’ve wanted to explain. So much I’ve wanted to make up for. I realize my apparent absence from your life has made you skeptical of me, and probably of love as well, but please know that it is not what it seems. My love for you is and will forever be very real. The last five years without you have been pure heartache for me, and I hope you will choose to remember me as the father from the years before, not the one who’s been away from you recently.

Since I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye to you before passing, I’ve written my thoughts on these notes. But more than anything else, I want you to know that you have always been the greatest part of my life—always—and I am amazed and proud of who you are and who you will become.

I encourage you to share this note with Daren. He is one of my favorite people and I trust him beyond measure, as I hope you will, someday, as well.

I love you.

I blink at the note. Then blink again. Nothing in it makes sense. The last few years were pure heartache for him? Ha. And Daren is a good soul that he trusts beyond measure? Double ha.

There’s no way in hell I’m showing Daren this note. The last thing that guy needs is more air to fill his big head.

At the bottom right-hand corner of the paper is the word “Through” written in black marker and the number fourteen written below that. Just that one word and number. Nothing else. I turn the paper over but it’s blank on the other side. Through fourteen? Weird.

Folding up the note, I quickly tuck it into my purse and glance at Daren. He’s staring at his own letter, looking perplexed.

I nod at his note. “What does it say?”

He blinks up at me then swiftly shoves the note into his pocket. “Nothing. Let’s see what’s in this last envelope.” Reaching into the suitcase, he grabs the remaining envelope, opens it, and pulls out yet another note from within.

As we lean in to read it, our shoulders brush. His body heat wraps around me in the small hallway, tucking me into his citrus scent and I’m momentarily distracted.

No.

I shake myself.

I will not like him—or his awesome-smelling soap, or shampoo, or whatever that heavenly orange scent is coming from.

Getting a grip, I focus on the words scrawled out in my father’s handwriting.

Daren and Kayla,

You’ve agreed to be handcuffed together! I can’t tell you how pleased I am by this. I realize handcuffs are uncomfortable and quite distasteful, but I wanted you to take this inheritance seriously. More importantly, I wanted you to work as a team. Because life is a series of working with others to achieve mutual goals. And that is lesson number one. The money I’ve left you is elsewhere. Use the enclosed key to open #23 at the train station.

Daren shakes the envelope, and an oddly shaped golden key falls into his palm. It’s large and heavy, with a square top and thick teeth. I’ve never seen anything like it.

He holds it up with a small smile. “Well now we know where the money is.”

“I guess we do.” I inhale deeply, my spirits lifting to crazy levels of giddiness as I stare at the key. This is really happening. My life is really going to change.

“You okay?” Daren cocks his head.

“Yeah.” A slow smile stretches across my face. “I’m good. Just excited, that’s all.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find us an inheritance!” He tucks the key in his pocket and moves to stand.