“Sounds like a great intro to your turn, Princess.”

  I wonder how much she’ll share.

  Becca

  “I’ve never spelled it out for anyone,” I say. “Maybe not even myself.”

  “I’ve never told anyone about Courtney before.” His eyebrows jump as if that’s a realization.

  I’m not completely sober, but I’m far from drunk. I’m in that loosey-goosey veil when you’ve had enough to drop your inhibitions.

  More than my inhibitions has dropped—my guard has dropped. I see so clearly what I didn’t before Dax started talking about his ex. He and I are two lonely souls.

  “I don’t have any relationship stories to tell,” I start. “I don’t have relationships. I’ve had hookups. I’ve gone to parties. I’ve had disastrous dates that have ended without kisses good night.”

  Dax’s mouth tips into a sad smile like he can relate.

  “I’m a risk taker in every other sense. I’ve picked up and moved away a dozen times. Half of those times I moved out of state. I thought I was following my passion, but now that I look back… I don’t know. It’s like I was looking for something I never found.”

  “Not all those who wander are lost,” he quotes.

  “I’ve heard that. I’m not sure it applies to me.”

  “Are you lost?”

  “I’m living with my brother with no move-out date since I’m not sure where I’d go. He offered me the position at Grand Lark, and I decided it’d be sufficient until I figure out what the hell I want to do with my life.”

  “Have you?”

  “No.” I feel a frown crease my brow as I watch the fire. “But I feel closer to figuring it out.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dax smile.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing’s funny. Doesn’t sound like you were lost while you were doing that wandering. Sometimes you have to wander far away to know that the right thing was always close to home.”

  “That’s some Wizard of Oz wisdom.”

  “It’s a wise movie.”

  We fall into silence and watch the flames.

  “I guess...” I pause, realizing that I’ve arrived at a conclusion. “I’ve always wanted to feel safe enough with someone to have more than a hookup or a surface relationship. But I never allowed myself to explore more. It always felt scary. Too big. I didn’t want to lose myself before I figured out who I was.”

  “You’re cringing,” Dax points out. “Was that a big admission?”

  “A monster.” The glow of orange from the fire dances on the sharp planes of his jaw, his cheekbones. He’s so much more than an attractive face. A pang of loss followed by a swell of gratitude comes when I realize that had it not been for that storm, we never would’ve had this conversation.

  “Do you feel safe, Bec? With me?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  He straddles the log and then pulls me close. My back to his chest, I feel strong arms band around my middle. He kisses my temple while holding me like I’m precious. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am.

  We sit like that for a while, watching the fire burn through the new log and then reduce to small flames that barely throw off heat.

  “Time to make our bed, before you catch hypothermia.”

  Dax’s deep voice startles me. I was drifting off, I think. I sit away from his chest and he stands and stretches his long body.

  “Can I help?” My voice is groggy. I must’ve been asleep.

  “Nah, I’ve got it. You just sit there and look pretty.” His smile is tired. I really should help. A brisk wind cuts through the field and lifts my hair, and I pull the blanket tighter.

  Sitting here and looking pretty while he readies our bed doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.

  Chapter 17

  THURSDAY, THE WEE HOURS

  Becca

  “Warm?” Dax’s sleep-heavy voice cuts into my brain.

  “Mm-hm,” I hum, snuggling against him. I’m wearing leggings, socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He’s in boxers and a T-shirt, and throwing off as much heat as a furnace.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I dozed.” I reach an arm out of the sleeping bag, atop two layers of thick blankets, and grab my water bottle. I tuck my arm, bottle included, back into my cocoon quickly. “I thought it was supposed to be warm by now! I’m freezing.”

  “It’s not summer yet, Princess. And it’s worth it.”

  I sip my water. I offer him some and he accepts, before stashing the water bottle on his side of the Jeep this time.

  “You’re right. It’s worth it,” I admit. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

  He wraps an arm around me and I rest my cheek on his chest. The stars are out in full force, perfectly visible in the deep navy sky stretched over the field.

  “What are you going to do when you get back to Ohio?” I ask.

  “Work. Kick Barrett out of my house. The usual.”

  I let out a soft laugh. “You’re a good friend to let him stay with you.”

  “I guess.”

  Dax is a good person. Probably a great person. And next to him, in his arms, snuggling deep in a thick sleeping bag, my mind has wandered out of normal territory and right into treacherous territory. I haven’t made a habit of really getting to know the guys in my life. And before you judge me, let me remind you that guys do it all the time. I’m selective, but I know how to scratch an itch. I also know how to escape before one of us has to have a conversation involving the words “We have to talk.”

  Yet here I am. I’m the one who turned up at Dax’s door again and again, proving that I can’t keep out of harm’s way. Like a curious mouse lured by cheese in a trap...

  “What about you? What will you do when I go home?”

  “Work. Sleep indoors. The usual,” I quip. In truth, I’ve been thinking about this since I opened my eyes however many minutes ago. What will I do when he goes home? Miss him, I imagine.

  A puff of air from his nose might be a weak laugh. I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing. I wonder if, in the wee hours, out in the woods, it’s safe to tell him what’s on my mind. Why not?

  “Will you date?” I blurt.

  He pulls in a deep breath. To buy time? His chest expands, lifting me with it, since my face is resting on his rib cage.

  “Never dated much as it was, Princess,” he says, which isn’t an answer.

  “Will you date?” His voice is quiet. “Pick up a stranger at Grand Lark’s bar and show up on his cabin doorstep?”

  I pinch his side in admonishment. “You were my first and likely my last Grand Lark hookup, Dax Vaughn.”

  His palm rubs up and down my arm soothingly, and soon after my eyelids grow heavy. Before I overthink it, I tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  “I don’t think I’ll find another you up in these mountains unless it’s actually you returning for another vacation.” My heart pounds under the weight of that admission. It’s unlikely that we’ll wait for each other—or that we’ll date long distance. The geographical distance isn’t insurmountable, but what about the emotional distance?

  “You have to come visit me next,” he says, pretty as you please. “Your name’ll be on the menu and you’ll have to do a quality check to make sure my cook didn’t screw up your quesadilla. You never told me what you charge, by the way.”

  That transition was as smooth as a fresh jar of Skippy.

  “I’m not sure what to charge you.”

  “Google some chefs for hire. Find what feels fair and bill me. I’ll double it and pay you.”

  “Dax, I don’t want you to overpay me.” I rest my forearms on his chest and look down at him. He brushes my hair from my face before tucking it behind my ear. Such a sweet move. He has a lot of those. That Courtney girl was an idiot for leaving him if he was even half this attentive with her.

  “Want to take me into town tomorrow?” he asks. “We could do lunch. You can show me the sights.”

  “I thought you wanted to rough it.”

  “I do. But not at the cost of boring you to tears.”

  “It’s your vacation. You should do what you came here to do.”

  “Did you, and that’s not what I came here for.” His lips twitch. He knows I know he’s kidding. I’m not the least bit offended.

  “I work until five tomorrow.”

  “Dinner, then.”

  “Another date?”

  “Starting to sound that way, isn’t it? Are you opposed?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” I say, my tone teasing.

  “That’s because I want you to say my favorite word.” He lifts his head off his pillow, laces his hands behind my back, and waits.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “That’s the one.” He kisses me lightly. Light turns to hard. Hard turns to deep.

  I slide my hand between our bodies, down, down until I cup his balls. Then I grip his cock in my palm and give him a slow stroke. He pulls his lips from mine to let out a low, pleasure-filled groan.

  “I have an idea,” I say.

  “Yes,” he answers without hesitation. His eyes are hooded, saturated with heat.

  I move down his body, beneath the sleeping bag, and pull down his boxers. His erection is impressive even at half-mast. I deliver a long, slow lick to the tip and feel his hips lift, his ass clench. Then I take him deep into my mouth. He rests his hands on my shoulders, hips still lifting to meet my mouth, as his deep groans fill the air. It’s suffocating under the heavy down sleeping bag and blankets, but I refuse to stop until he’s done. Or so I think.

  Without warning, he grips my upper arms and pulls me off him.

  I suck in a breath of crisp, cool air as I surface, and am met with deep silvery eyes that have grown dark with intent. His nostrils flare as he throws open the sleeping bag and rolls me to my back. In record time, my leggings are dragged to my ankles and then off completely.

  He palms my breasts through my shirt, toying with my nipples as he kisses his way down my torso. At the juncture of my thighs, he stops, yanks aside my panties, and buries his face between my thighs.

  Dax locates my clitoris like it has a homing device. He sucks and licks, not letting up until I’m moaning louder than he was. He sets the pace—deep and slow. I thrust and squirm, matching his rhythm as he ravishes me.

  A minute later I come. Hard. I attempt to push his head away, but he shows no signs of letting up. His hands grip my ass and squeeze as he renews his efforts. He wrings one more orgasm from me before he stops.

  Before I can catch my breath, he’s on top of me. I open my legs to accommodate his width and he slides home in one slow, long, wet stroke.

  Oh, he feels so good.

  The stroke that follows is even better. I toss my head back, luxuriating in post-orgasmic bliss. He feels better than good—he feels like he belongs here.

  After another few luscious glides, Dax comes to an abrupt halt. He’s seated deep, and I can feel him pulsating inside me.

  He blinks, dazed. “Fuck.”

  “It’s okay. I came earlier.” I weakly stroke his neck. “Go for it.”

  “Not that, Princess.” He hovers there, his eyes drilling into mine, his breathing ragged. “Protection.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper. We’ve never forgotten that essential step before. “I’m, um... I’m clean. You’re clean, I assume?”

  “Babe.” He tilts his head like I shouldn’t assume otherwise.

  “Well, slide out and put one on,” I tell him. Then with a devilish smile I add, “Or come inside me, because I’ve been on birth control since I was fifteen.”

  “Becca.” I like the growly, desperate way he says my name.

  I rest my hand on his T-shirt-covered chest and tilt my hips toward his greedily. He moves only a centimeter, frozen over me in suspension, like hasn’t decided whether to stay or go.

  “Do you trust me?” I’m asking so much more than whether he trusts that I’m on birth control.

  His answer is to lower to his elbows and kiss me thoroughly. While our tongues mingle, his hips move lazily, his cock sliding deep, and then deeper before pulling out again.

  My breaths match his—tight and thin—but he doesn’t pick up the pace, oh no. He continues his sluggish, rhythmic slides. He thrusts with precision, and I tilt to meet him. Soon I’m on the brink of an orgasm so spectacular I wonder if it’ll be like Halley’s comet—once in a lifetime.

  “Princess,” he growls.

  “Yes. Yes, Dax. Yes.”

  “Now.”

  On his command, I arch, tightening my channel and clutching his cock. I pulse along with him as he releases a primal growl, his entire body coiled as he comes inside me. He pumps until his hips come to a resting stop and our pelvises are flush against each other.

  Then. We breathe. Hard and fast at first, then long and slow.

  His kisses warm the center of my chest. We’re still connected where it counts. His fingers play in my hair as my hands stroke up his back and down. I reach lower to grab his taut ass where his muscles flinch.

  “Your body is unfairly perfect,” I mutter, happiness lacing my voice.

  “Wrong, gorgeous. You’re the perfect one. Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than wrapped up in these long legs.” He slides one hand over my thigh and down my calf, lifting my leg and hooking it over his hip. “How long can I rest here before I need to get out? Nothing feels as incredible as your pussy. Could stay here till morning.”

  I release a quick exhale of surprise at the word I thought I never liked. When Dax says “pussy,” it’s almost...reverent.

  “Morning is a long way away,” I joke.

  He kisses me again. We share a smile and an intense eye lock before he pulls out.

  I sleep well the rest of the night.

  Chapter 18

  THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  Becca

  “I can’t say that anyone has taken me out for vegan food before,” Dax says as we walk the sidewalk downtown.

  We ate at a small café called Peace, Love, and Dumplings. They have the most incredible Thai fusion.

  “It’s just food,” I say. “Did you like it?”

  “No. I loved it.” He shrugs, accepting without any fuss that he ate a meatless meal. “I love food.”

  “Anyone can take you out for Tennessee barbecue. Only someone special can take you for Tennessee Thai.”

  He captures my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. Our arms brush as we match each other’s leisurely pace alongside the sunshine-saturated street.

  “Those sweet potato things...” he starts.

  “Spicy Thai sweet potato peanut rolls,” I answer. They’re my favorite item on the menu. Deep-fried like an egg roll and filled with the unlikely ingredients of mashed sweet potatoes and spicy vegetables, served with a thick, rich peanut butter sauce for dipping.

  “Can you re-create them?”

  “Maybe. I’ve never tried. The kitchen at Tad’s house is usually filled with their two kids and Lara tossing everything into a Crock-Pot for that evening’s meal.”

  “You sound unimpressed.”

  “I’m grateful that she feeds me,” I hedge.

  “You don’t cook for them?” His question contains an element of surprise.

  “I don’t want to be in the way.” My answer contains a dash of chagrin. Lately Dax has reminded me that I’m valuable, and I’ve been noticing the ways I try to make myself smaller. To stay out of the way of people who are leading real lives. “I’m interloping hard-core.”

  “That’s what family’s for, Princess. They step up and help out when someone they love needs them. It’s what I did for my mom. It’s what I did for Barrett.”

  My heart squeezes. What a simple, awesome way of looking at life.

  “Who does that for you?” I ask. “Who helps you out when you need it?”

  “Don’t need it.” He lifts those big shoulders into a shrug. Shoulders the people around him lean on.

  “Everyone needs someone,” I say quietly.

  He squeezes my fingers as we walk.

  We pass a gaudy T-shirt store, a movie theater, and an antiques shop.

  “Oh, I love that.” I pause in front of the window and admire a tall grandfather clock. I can’t stop staring at the intricate woodwork. It’s beautiful—my dad would love it. I wish I could afford to buy it for him for his upcoming birthday.

  “Princess.”

  “Yeah?” I turn to face Dax, but he’s not transfixed by the clock. He’s pointing at a faded poster taped to a telephone pole. “This you?”

  I run a hand over the weather-beaten, faded hot-pink paper. The title reads ONE NIGHT IN TUSCANY. My name, in bold type, sits beneath a photo of a country landscape, but the staples have rusted and the orange streaks make it hard to tell what it is.

  “A few months ago, I danced at the cancer ward in the hospital.” I pull up a torn bit of paper and piece together the name of the hospital with the address. “I wanted to perform. I wanted to make people happy. I figured patients undergoing chemo needed a reason to smile. I made the flyers for locals who have relatives going through treatment.”

  I glance up at him. He takes his attention from the flyer to meet my gaze, his eyes narrowing in consideration.

  “Cute. Sweet. And you care about other people.”

  “I just wanted to dance.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t buy my excuse. “You’ll have to show me sometime. What else you can do with your amazing body.”

  I take his hand and pull him with me. I wait until we pass a few loitering teens to lean close and say, “Was that a request for a striptease?”

  “It wasn’t. But I could put in a request for that as well.”

  I laugh.

  “I’m serious.” He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, heedless of slowing pedestrian traffic. “I want to see what you did for the hospital. Will you show me?”

  “Here?” I look left, then right. People are walking in and out of shops. Couples linger on the edge of the street and sidewalk.