I was still considering how best to call it a night when I walked out of the ladies’ room. My attention was immediately drawn to the hallway wall opposite the door. Cash stood there, his gaze zeroed in on me, looking intense but not surprised to see me. Before I could process more, he took a light grasp of my wrist and gently tugged me closer. His lips tilted up ever so slightly as he peered down at me.

  “Cash,” I said, catching my balance with a hand on his chest as my brain played catch-up. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was helping a buddy turn forty,” he said in a low, growly voice that I felt clear through me. His eyes were locked on mine, then they darted down to my lips, and my heart rate kicked up.

  “And now?” My mouth was suddenly dry. When Cash cradled my cheek with one large palm, I was drawn in by some kind of spell that seemed to shut down my brain cells and make it impossible to think.

  His eyes implored mine as if he was giving me a chance to put distance between us, but I was locked in place, waiting to see what he did next.

  My breath stalled as he leaned his face closer to mine a centimeter at a time. He closed the last bit of space, and his lips crashed down on mine as his hand swept through my hair, to the back of my head, holding me there against his onslaught. I grasped his T-shirt and fell into the sensations that were Cash Henry, tumbling somewhere between the past and the present as it all mixed together—his masculine scent, his decisive kiss, the growl that rumbled up from deep in his chest.

  It took a couple seconds for my brain to send the message that this wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing with him. It took less than a heartbeat for my lips to part for his insistent tongue and send back the message that it was very much what my mouth wanted to be doing.

  For a few magical moments, it was like no time had passed at all and I was twenty again and Cash was my everything. As I tried to get my bearings, I opened my eyes to see an older Cash. It should’ve stopped me short, but instead, I closed them again and fell back into that kiss. He’d always kissed me like no other man I’d been kissed by, not that there were bunches.

  When he rotated us so my back was to the wall and his body was pressing me into it, I let myself be engulfed by his heat. My brain had gone offline, but my body was in full respond mode. An ache throbbed deep within me, and my chest felt lighter than air as I trailed my hands up to the back of his neck.

  Cash’s intensity lightened, the kiss becoming more tender and thorough, less urgent and have-a-point-to-make, as if he’d reeled himself in or reminded himself we were in the back hall at the Fly.

  The thought penetrated the fog in my head and I broke contact enough to say, “Cash…”

  “What?” He sounded dazed, and I loved that kissing me had made him that way.

  I couldn’t help smiling as I put a couple inches between us, becoming more aware of the people who were walking by us en route to the restrooms. “Not here.”

  “We could get out of here.” He pressed a couple of quick kisses to my lips again, as if he hated to stop.

  “We can get out of here but not to do more of that.” I pushed lightly against his chest, which of course didn’t move him an inch, but he did get the message and stepped back.

  He caught my hand and wove our fingers together, his broad chest rising as he inhaled deeply. I liked to think he was trying as hard as I was to get his equilibrium back, but who could say? Maybe he kissed random girls in back hallways all the time.

  “Are you ready to go home for the night?” He seemed more in control, more like his usual self, the gravel in his voice mostly gone.

  I nodded.

  “What’s what’s-his-name going to say about that?”

  I tilted my head, trying to puzzle through that. “You mean Knox?”

  “Writer boy. Or is it pool shark?”

  I laughed. “Considering we got beat in five turns, I think we better stick with writer boy. You sound jealous.”

  “Hell yes, I’m jealous. You don’t even like pool.”

  Why did I like so much that he remembered that? That he remembered me, things about me that not a lot of people on this planet knew?

  “You’re right. He asked me to play, and I thought, why not? I told him I was terrible, so he went into it with eyes wide open.”

  My tone was light, but Cash’s “Mm-hmm” was not.

  “Stop it,” I said. “I need to get my clutch and then I’m going home.” I took my hand from his, because the last thing either of us needed was to be seen walking through the bar hand in hand, and headed out into the billiards area, toward the table where I’d been sitting.

  “How are you getting there?” Cash asked right behind me.

  I’d ridden with Magnolia, and I had no intention of interrupting her high-stakes game. “Walking.”

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  “You don’t have to. This is Dragonfly Lake.”

  “Let me walk you home, Ava,” he said just before we got to the table where Knox sat.

  “Hey, Cash,” Knox said with an easy smile.

  “Breckenridge.” There was no smile in return, and I inwardly rolled my eyes, even though jealous Cash gave me a little ill-advised thrill.

  As I picked up my clutch, which I’d tucked away behind the table marquee, I checked the tables and saw that Magnolia and her partner were playing a second game. “Are they still looking good?” I asked Knox.

  He blew out a sound that said, No question. “Only thing slowing them down is the other games. Are you leaving?”

  Nodding, I said, “I’m exhausted.”

  “Need a ride?”

  Cash moved into my side at that and said, “I got it.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said much more pleasantly. “And for the game, even if I was pathetic.”

  “Thanks for being my partner. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Knox’s parting words were pleasant, friendly, but that was all.

  I wasn’t getting vibes from him that Cash had anything to be jealous about. There certainly wasn’t anything on my end. Though Knox was good-looking and I was excited to have someone to talk writing with, I wasn’t drawn to him sexually. Particularly not with Cash at my side, but I wasn’t about to tell Cash that.

  Cash put his hand on the small of my back as we made our way to the door, and I was torn. Did I like his hand there? Yes. Too much. Did his possessive brusqueness irritate me? More than a little.

  I waited till we were outside on the sidewalk and the noise of the bar was all but gone. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  He led me to the right instead of left and took a sidewalk that went toward the back of the bar, across an alley, and through the trees, shortcutting toward Honeysuckle Road. The inn was just under a mile away, but I was glad my slides had flat soles.

  “He’s a nice guy,” I said.

  “He might be. Still don’t like him.”

  “What’d he ever do to you?” I asked.

  “Nothing until he set his eyes on you.”

  “His eyes aren’t set on me. Not at all. We have writing in common and that’s it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t get vibes of anything else. Besides, so what if he was interested?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t get a say.” I stopped walking. “What just happened back there didn’t mean anything, Cash. We aren’t a thing.”

  He halted a few steps ahead of me, turned toward me, then took slow steps back to me. “We may not be a thing, but we still have chemistry.”

  In spades, but the last thing I needed to do was admit that. I started walking again and he came with me. “What buddy were you helping celebrate, and isn’t he going to wonder where you went?”

  “Jake Bergman. He deserted me first for a blond out-of-towner. Dylan Copeland was with us too but he’s been fluttering around like a damn social butterfly. I texted him I was leaving. He’s fine.”

  “Jake’s turning forty, huh?” I knew him through Cash, and he’d helped me at the hardware store the other day. I’d not spent a lot of time with him in the past—my time with Cash had been limited enough that we stole what we could get whenever we could get it—but he was a friendly guy and I liked him.

  “Forty today,” Cash said.

  “Which means the big four-oh is coming up for you too.” It wasn’t news to me, but I’d always given him a hard time for being older than I was, jokingly, of course. I nudged him with my elbow.

  “Hey, that age joke’s not as funny as it was in our twenties,” he said with a low laugh.

  We reached Honeysuckle Road and turned left, Cash taking the side closest to the road as we walked along the shoulder. It was dark and there wasn’t much traffic. I inhaled deeply, appreciating the familiar lake smells and taking comfort in the night sounds—frogs, insects, and the periodic dog bark in the distance. I had to admit Dragonfly Lake was a peaceful place, so opposite of LA.

  “You seem…settled these days,” I said after a couple minutes. “Like you’ve made peace with living in a small town, doing what you do.” Back when he’d enlisted, he’d been restless, unsure what he wanted out of life.

  “I am for the most part. This is my home now, no question. I saw parts of the world with the Navy, figured out what I’m meant to do. Now I’m just trying to build credibility for Henry’s and Rusty Anchor.”

  I envied him that. I’d never felt settled, at least not since my dad left us when I was a kid. Looking back, with Wes, I’d felt more like I was living his life instead of mine. And here in Dragonfly Lake, it’d been much the same. I’d been absorbed with making up for my mom’s lacking in the inn at first, and then when she’d gone downhill physically, I’d added her care to my to-do list. My time to myself had been filled with Cash whenever possible. Back then, I hadn’t even started writing seriously. Now I hoped to make writing my priority and settle into my own place, my own life, in California.

  “Everything I’ve seen and heard says Henry’s has plenty of credibility, along with its top-notch chef,” I said. I’d looked online, checked their reviews, seen how popular the place was, and it had nothing to do with how long it’d been open, very little to do with the woman who’d founded it. No question, Guinevere Henry had been savvy and ballsy and a hard worker. She’d laid the foundation, but what Cash was doing now was his own thing, his and Seth’s and Holden’s too, and it was, in my opinion, impressive.

  “We do okay,” he said modestly. “I’m on a mission to be featured on Small Town Smorgasbord.”

  “On that cooking channel?”

  “That’s the one.” He told me he and Seth had hired Hayden’s friend to do their marketing, and their number one goal was the show. “Our customers are doing their part, sharing posts, posting their own reasons we should be featured, using the show’s hashtag. Only problem is the Cove is trying for the same thing. That’s the restaurant in the new Marks Resort. Friendly competition most days, but when it comes to representing this town on national TV, that should be us. We’ve been here decades longer and we’re better.”

  “I agree,” I said. “You deserve it.” We reached the driveway to the inn and turned down it, the conversation between us easy, comfortable, about his restaurant and my potential TV series.

  When we got to the inn, I shook my head and turned toward the cottage instead. “If I go in there, I’ll get caught up in work,” I explained as we veered toward the path. “Loretta texted me that Deshon is here and has everything handled. I’m going with that.”

  I felt Cash peering at me. “Taking some breathing time from work. I like it.”

  “You don’t have any room to talk, from what I’ve seen.”

  “I took tonight off just to go out with Jake and Dylan.”

  With a laugh, I said, “What does it say that you deserted them?”

  “That a pretty girl wins every time.”

  Why I was blushing, I had no idea. But my face heated up and my heart turned over a little, proving I was not as immune to him as I wanted to be. I put a couple extra inches between us as we walked.

  The cottage was surrounded by trees, as was most of the land the inn was on, so the farther we got from the lamppost in front of the inn’s entrance, the darker it got. Naturally, I’d forgotten to turn on the porch light, but the moon was out, filtering through the leaves here and there, giving us enough light to see.

  “What’s on the infamous to-do list for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I’m getting up bright and early to make muffins for the guests. Any tips?”

  “The bakery downtown opens at seven o’clock.”

  “Smart-ass.” Just like cooking, baking skills weren’t in my wheelhouse, but Aunt Phyl had left a few recipes, and I wanted to try my hand at them. “I can follow directions.”

  “That’ll get you somewhere with baking. Preheat your oven all the way before you start. Pray a lot.”

  I whacked his arm as I looked up to find a mischievous grin that was lighter than any smiles he’d sent my way since I’d been back. More like old times when there was no tension or ancient history between us. God, that smile could curl my toes.

  When we got to the door, Cash leaned a shoulder against the wall, watching me while I dug out the single key from a pocket in my clutch. Once I’d grabbed it, he held out a hand for me to give it to him. Without thought, I did, and he caught my hand in his, pulled me closer as he straightened, then wrapped his big hands around my waist, settling them on my hips like he owned them.

  The movement made me sway into him, a little off-balance, and my hands found his chest like they had earlier. His chest… The years had only made it better. Broader, thicker, harder. Tougher to resist, but I was supposed to be resisting.

  “Cash…”

  “Mm?”

  “Did you hear anything I said back there at the bar?”

  “I heard you. We’re not a thing. But your body is giving off a different message.”

  I couldn’t deny that, nor could I convince myself to snap out of it. I should be putting distance between us, but it was too easy to stay here. Too comforting. Too familiar. My heart raced with the exhilaration of being so close to him again, and I lifted my gaze and met his heated one.

  He lowered his lips to mine, and I let him. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t resist another few seconds of his talented mouth on mine, this time slow, gentle, persuading.

  I let him for more than a little while, losing myself in his kisses, loving being the focus of his attention again. Our bodies were meshed together, his hardness pressing into me, showing me he was as into this as I was. That we could go inside the cottage and have it and my double bed and the whole night to ourselves was at the forefront of my brain, but I refused to give in to that. That was a road I knew wasn’t smart and would be so much harder to come back from.

  The thought was enough to make me pull back from the kiss and duck my head slightly, still glowing from his affection, fighting myself hard to give it up.

  “I’m leaving in a few days,” I managed to get out.

  “And coming back a couple days after that.” He moved his hand up to cradle my face, rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “Only temporarily. You know that.”

  “I do.” He brushed a brief kiss to my lips. “We’re just kissing. That’s all.”

  When he put it like that…

  “Our lives are on opposite sides of the country most of the time,” he continued. “We have a few weeks that we’re in the same place. We seem to like each other.”

  I laughed quietly at the understatement.

  “We sure as hell still have chemistry,” he pointed out.

  “We do,” I admitted.

  “We’re adults. As long as no one’s getting hurt, why not spend time together?”

  There was nothing I could argue with in anything he said. I looked up into those dreamy eyes that were peering down at me so intently. I nodded. “We can spend time together.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay. But I need to call it a night. I have to face those muffins at the crack of dawn.”

  With a sexy, growly laugh, he said, “Why I’m not a pastry chef.”

  “Smart.” I kissed him without hesitation, then managed to stand up straight, putting a little space between us, reluctantly ending the full-body contact. “Thank you for walking me home.”

  “Anytime, Ava,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. “Good luck with the muffins.”

  He squeezed my hand once, kissed my forehead, and walked off toward the road.

  I leaned against the door, watching him go. My body was still aching for him, and there was a big part of me that rejoiced in the thought of kissing him and more. But there was another big part of me that was worrying, thinking I was stupid to agree, because soon I would have to go back to my own life, and that life couldn’t include Cash.

  Chapter 11

  Cash

  “Didn’t figure I’d see you today,” I said to Jake Saturday morning as he came down the exterior stairs from our apartments at five thirty a.m., as was our usual.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” He reached the pavement, tightened a shoelace, then started stretching for our run.

  “I wasn’t sure if you made it home last night or if you still had company or what.” I pulled one foot up in a quad stretch, grinning at him, waiting to hear how his night with the blonde had gone.

  “Steamy morning already. Gonna be a scorcher,” was all he said.

  He wasn’t lying. The dog days of summer could be killer in southern Tennessee. It felt like ninety percent humidity right now. But that wasn’t nearly as interesting as Jake’s dodge.

  I finished my stretches as Jake did the same, honoring his desire to not talk about last night, at least for now.