“What if I need sensible?” The words came out even though I didn’t really mean them. Even if I was so tired of being safe too.

  “Do you want me to walk away? Right here, right now?”

  “Yes.” He bowed his head and tried to take a step back, but I gripped his hands. “But I’m not going to let you.”

  He met my gaze with a frown.

  “I guess we’re just going to be stupid together until the last tree is sold on your lot. Until you go back to your life for another year and I figure out where I’m going from there.”

  “So, you’re mine until the end of December?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Only mine.” He detangled our fingers to cup my face. “Mine.”

  “I should be pissed off at that caveman crap you keep pulling.”

  He grinned at me. “But if I slid my hand into your panties, you’d be drenched.”

  “Go put the ornaments in your truck.”

  “I think I’m just as twisted, since your bossiness makes my dick hard.” He pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Pack for a few days.”

  “I have a cat, remember?”

  “Right, that’s true. Got a carrier?”

  “Do you want to lose a limb trying to get him in there?”

  “C’mon, we’ll take him with us. He’ll love exploring my cabin.”

  “You’re insane. You know, cats aren’t like puppies. You can’t just take them with you. There’s litter and treats and food and—”

  He put a finger to my lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Fine. But we could just hang out here.”

  “I’d rather spread you out on my California King-sized bed.”

  “You do make a good argument.” I pushed him away. “Go. Let me figure out the logistics.”

  “It’s what you do.”

  I sighed. I definitely couldn’t argue with him on that. He turned to leave and saw the cat sitting in the doorway. He scooped him up and instead of Gary’s usual acrobatics, he just twitched his overlong whiskers at him and climbed onto his shoulder.

  “You’re a traitor, cat.”

  Clay just laughed his way back down the stairs.

  I ran around my room and packed my weekender with a few pairs of jeans, shirts, and some lingerie. Some sturdy and some not so sturdy. I needed coverage when I was working at the CocoaBus this weekend. Cute lace bras did not keep a girl warm.

  As an afterthought, I added a pair of thermals, in case the weather turned brutal. Luckily, I didn’t do much in the way of primping, so I didn’t need many toiletries.

  When I got downstairs, Clay had his head in the box by the door.

  “I see you found them.”

  “These are great. Why are you giving them to me?”

  “Well, not all of them. But I’ll just take back whatever doesn’t work with your tree.”

  “Are they sentimental?”

  I shook my head. “No. They were just the overflow from the shop. Either they were one-offs or not right for the gift shop style and Aunt Laverne didn’t want to do a full order.”

  “Oh. Nice.” He hefted the box. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  I found the soft-sided carrier that I used when I took Gary to the vet. He’d been one of the cats from a litter in the orchard’s main barn.

  Beckett’s gelding required a companion. Something I hadn’t known about horses before meeting Storm. And since Beckett’s dog wouldn’t leave his side, they’d had a series of cats.

  Evidently, one of them wasn’t fixed. And voilà, I had myself a cat.

  I scratched Gary’s head. “Are you going to cooperate with this?” I set the carrier on the couch.

  He went over to it and sniffed.

  “Okay. Got that.” I could hear the frown in Clay’s voice. “Is that your bag?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Yep.”

  “Are you sure that’s it?”

  “What, do you think I’m moving in?”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s it.”

  He looped the strap over his shoulder. “Oh, did you get that white box too?”

  “What did you send me?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  I rolled my eyes and crossed to the pile of mail on my counter. I shook it. “What the heck is it?”

  He shoved his hand into his pocket and came out with a Swiss Army knife. “Open it,” he said as he tossed it at me.

  I opened the package and tossed the knife back to him. Pushing away the extra paper, I glimpsed a familiar white box with an Apple logo. I nudged it away. “Why did you get me that?”

  Panic threatened to bubble up, but I swallowed it down.

  “Rach, you have a flip phone. Who the hell has a flip phone?”

  “I have my iPad. It’s fine.”

  “Maybe, if it was hooked up to some data, but it’s not.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you never texted me using it.”

  I crossed back to the couch, as far away from the phone as possible. “I like the unplugged life.”

  He let my overnight bag slide to the floor and came around the couch. “No one likes the unplugged life.”

  I sat down and stared at my hands. “I do.”

  He crouched in front of me. “Rachel, honey…you’re not the type.”

  I looked up at him. “How do you know what type I am?” My heart started racing. I used to be tethered to my phone for everything. Work, social media, my family and friends. Not a single moment alone—always plugged in and there to help.

  My life was quiet now.

  I liked it quiet.

  “Well, as part of the marketing side of the tree farm, I need you to be taking care of our Instagram and Facebook page.”

  “Mary does that.”

  The rushing sound in my head was growing louder.

  “Mary does the bare minimum. I appreciate how much she does for the company, but a marketing guru, she is not.”

  “I told her what to do.”

  “And she does exactly what you asked her to. But she doesn’t innovate. Not like you do.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t.”

  “You do.” He tipped up my chin so our eyes were level. “You come up with a million ideas a day. This is no different than—”

  I pushed him back and rose to move around him. “It’s not the same. Who does that? Just buys a thousand dollar phone for someone he barely knows.”

  He stood. “Not that I wouldn’t buy things for you, but this is a business phone. It’s a write-off. And you’d have a new phone number, just for work.”

  My nails bit into my palms so hard, I finally stopped hearing the white noise buzzing in my ears. “Just for work.”

  He came toward me, but I turned and walked into the kitchen. Water. I needed to wet my throat. With shaking hands, I opened the fridge and pulled out my pitcher of water.

  He followed me, pulling down a glass for me. He stilled my shaking hand on the handle. “Rachel.”

  I stared at his hand covering mine. The urge to confide in him washed over me. But I’d been holding it in for so long, the words were jumbled in my head.

  And dear God, telling him about my past was the least sexy and carefree thing in the world.

  I didn’t have to tell him my dirty little secret.

  I could do this.

  “You don’t have to. I’m sorry I overstepped.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s my job.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. You can run the CocoaBus just like—”

  “No. I want to.”

  He drew me away from the counter and in front of him. “I don’t think want is the right word.”

  I stared at his feet. So much bigger than mine. Everything about him was bigger than me. But he was solid. And he was just asking me to follow through.

  All the plans we’d been making, the set up of the bus, my pushing him to change things at the tree farm, even some of the executive decisions I’d made with Jim Townes—I’d shown I was more than capable.

  Now I just needed to convince myself.

  “I need to,” I said softly, looking up at Clay. “I’m good at my job and you’re right. I have a lot of ideas I need to put together and I need to be available to more people than even just you.”

  It had been a pain in the ass to not have a smart phone when I’d started doing all the ordering, but most things could still be handled with an actual phone call. Even if it was hugely inconvenient sometimes.

  “I’m sure there’s a good reason for you wanting to be unplugged.” I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  It would be so easy to finally just say it. But then I’d have to explain so much more.

  “So, you’ll use it for work?”

  “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  His lips quirked up at one corner. “Yeah, well, right back atcha.”

  “You’re setting up the phone though. I hate doing that.”

  He laughed. “Deal. Still need the water?”

  I glanced at the pitcher. “No.”

  “Okay. Then come home with me and we’ll trim a tree and eat some delicious Italian.”

  My stomach growled as if on cue.

  “And with that, I’m definitely taking you home.” He kissed my forehead. “Round up the cat and we’ll grab some supplies for my house.”

  “I still think you’re crazy.”

  He wound his way through my tiny living room, grabbed my bag, then paused at the door. “I think we’re both a little crazy.”

  Well, that was truer than he even knew.

  Chapter 16

  Clay

  It’s Not a Mansion

  Rachel’s freak-out about the phone seemed bigger than it should have been.

  I was pretty sure it was the first time I witnessed abject panic in real time. And not the kind I was used to at work, since deadlines were a fact of life in my world.

  No, this was so much more than seeing her shoved out of her comfort zone. It also gave me a little more insight into why she was so hard to figure out. She hid so much of herself that I wasn’t even sure I knew the real Rachel.

  Tonight would be different if it killed me.

  The ride from her place to mine was quiet. Nearly uncomfortable, to be honest. I knew she wasn’t happy about showing me that side of her and now she was in full retreat mode.

  I’d need to change that—quickly.

  She was hugging the cat carrier to her chest and crooning to Gary. The cat was chill as could be. Evidently, the adventure aspect to his time outside hadn’t scarred him too badly. Instead, his whiskers kept poking out of the netting as his head swiveled to see everything.

  Not that there was much to see. Full dark sat over us like a blanket. Didn’t mean the cat, or his mistress, were any less interested in what was out the window.

  The back roads held little light, but I knew them better than the city. I even dreamed about them sometimes. Not that I ever took the time to figure out what that meant—it just usually reminded me I needed to get out of Manhattan.

  I took my turnoff. It was a private entrance with a long, winding drive that was a bitch to plow, but worth it for the view. And the privacy. I’d installed a few lights to break up the endless blackness—mostly because Ransom had nagged me into it. He had to have one hell of an active imagination if he came up with that many ways for people to kidnap me. I was fairly certain there was more chance of a cyber attack on my company than on my physical body, but he wouldn’t be swayed.

  Suddenly, Rachel sat up straighter, the cat forgotten. She swiveled her head toward me, then back to the house. “This is your cabin?” Incredulity made her voice go up an octave.

  I looked up at the house, lit up with half a dozen lights I kept on a timer. “Yeah, why?”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a mansion.” As soon as I stopped the vehicle, she climbed out, the carrier slung over her shoulder as she hurried up the flagstone stairs to my porch. It was a wraparound deal that showed off the best views in the back. On nights with a full moon, you could see across the valley.

  My place was a tri-level cabin with massive windows. I’d installed pearlescent stained glass panels done by an artist in SoHo. I liked the way they framed the house, but they didn’t take away the natural light that blasted through in the daylight hours.

  Not that I had much of a chance to come out here to enjoy the other seasons, but I did make sure to get away a few times during the year.

  Most people looked forward to tropical getaways, but all I wanted was time here. It was quiet and private, very much unlike my life in the city. No one was watching me every minute of the day or asking for something from me. In fact, I’d written one of my most lucrative programs in my loft space here. Sometimes a little quiet was just what I needed to think outside the box.

  And now I needed that quiet again—this time, for a much bigger prize.

  The one who was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

  I unlocked the door with a palm print and code. She turned those summer sky eyes up at me as I opened the door. They were still dazed from before, but that sharp intelligence was burning through again.

  This probably wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. She’d have questions about the cabin and how I could afford it. But I was beginning to know her, and I was counting on the fact that she had her own reasons for keeping things tight to the vest.

  She wouldn’t ask me questions, because then it would open the door for me to do the same. And neither of us wanted to face reality, probably for far different reasons.

  I opened the door. “Go on and get him settled.”

  “Settled? We’ll never see him again.”

  I laughed. “It’s not that big.”

  “Nice to know I can add delusional to your list of faults.” Then Rachel sailed through the door.

  “She’s back,” I said under my breath as I went back to the truck for her bags and the supplies I’d ordered for curbside pickup. I dropped both inside the door and returned for the tree.

  Quickly, I cleaned up the cut and evened it out so the trunk would sit evenly in my tree stand. Then I drilled a hole into the bottom so the tree would drink up the water it would want so desperately.

  By the time I hauled in the tree, Rachel had the lights on in the living room and Gary was exploring.

  “No fear there,” I said with a grunt as I got the tree inside.

  She turned and her cloud-soft hair fluttered over her shoulder. She was still wearing my shirt over a pair of leggings. Cozy and comfortable, save for the censure in her eyes.

  Gary was climbing the rough wood post in the center of the large room. The cabin had been constructed in a post and beam architectural style, which meant there were a lot of supports to take up the slack for so much glass.

  She caught Gary out of the corner of her eye and rushed over to save him from climbing his way to the second floor.

  I sniffed the air. “Did you grab something from the bakery when I wasn’t looking?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing at the store smelled that good.”

  “Hmm.” I hefted the tree and nodded toward the corner I’d cleared for it. “Can you pull out the tree stand a little so I can get it in there?”

  She set the cat on the couch and rushed over. “Jeez.” She let out a breath as she pulled out the heavy box I had created in lieu of a tree skirt.

  It took a few tries and lots of swearing before we managed to get it set inside the tree base.

  She batted a huge branch out of her face as she straightened. “It didn’t look this big when we cut it down.”

  I grunted. “It’s nine freaking feet, Rach.”

  “I know, I know.” She slid under my arms, her ass brushing across my front as I tried to straighten it enough for her to use the screws in the base to secure it. “This isn’t the best way to do this, you know.”

  “I should have made a hinge so I could have opened it for this part.”

  She bent at the waist, pushing branches out of her way to duck her head into the box, leaving her in the perfect position to find out if she really did like that butt stuff she’d mentioned the last time I was with her.

  I tried not to focus on her very bitable ass, nor her wiggling to get farther into the box.

  “Got it,” she said with a huff. “Is it tight enough?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Really? Seems like it’s…” She peeked over her shoulder and gave me an arched brow. “The tree?”

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat, then shook the trunk. “Maybe the back screw.”

  She backed out and stood up. “Sorry you’ll miss out on the objectification.” She patted my chest with a wide smile.

  “Damn.”

  She laughed and wiggled her way behind the tree. “It’s really full.”

  “Are you just doing this on purpose now?”

  She pushed the branches apart to look at me. “You have a dirty mind.” But her eyes danced with humor before she went back to digging her way down to the tree base.

  “Oh, right there. Stop.” The tree barely moved now.

  Her giggle floated up toward me. Apparently, we both had one-track minds. I backed up to get a better look. “Not sure it’s straight though.”

  She shimmied her way around the tree, her hair peppered with pine needles. “Nope. Crooked.” She bumped me with her hip. “Your turn under there, buddy.”

  I laughed down at her, brushing some needles out of her bangs. “This is going to take forever, isn’t it?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Why do you say that?”

  I rubbed at a smudge of sap on her cheek. “Just a feeling.”

  “It’s leaning to the left.”

  “Barely.”

  “It’s leaning.”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled off my gloves, tossing them at her. She tossed them back at my head and missed. Gary decided it was his new toy and pounced on one, rolling onto his back with it in his paws. It was almost as big as he was.

  Rachel was far better suited to doing this close to the floor—for a number of reasons I couldn’t get out of my mind now—but my damn shoulders were too big to get in there.