“You care about me?” he asks.

  It’s a ridiculous question, so I roll my eyes. “Of course, I care about you.”

  His gaze wanders out the window. I let him collect his thoughts, and honestly, because of the things he’s shared with me, I fully expect he’ll give me back a similar proclamation. It’s time we both admit this is something more than friends with benefits.

  Instead, when he returns his regard, he says, “The trees are kind of moot to me now. I’m going back.”

  A confusing jumble of emotions hits all at once, primarily joy for him that he’s not walking away from a career that’s far too important to have ever given up. And sadness, because he’s leaving. Confusion that he doesn’t return my sentiments after I confessed the same, because now I realize I’ve misjudged things.

  I pull together a brilliant smile and focus on my happiness for him. Flinging my arms around him, I give him a hard hug. “That makes me so happy for you, and I can’t wait to hear how you decided to give it another shot.”

  Coen squeezes me, buries his face in my neck, and draws back. “Let’s go to my place, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Reaching out, I rest my hand on his before he can put the truck in drive. “Wait a minute… I have to go back to Jamie. I have that appointment.”

  “Which isn’t necessary now,” he says.

  “Are you selling the cabin when you go back?”

  “No way. I love that place.”

  That place.

  He loves the cabin.

  I shore up my resolve and manage to keep my tone light and my smile intact. “Then the tree issue isn’t moot. Drop me at Jamie’s office so I can go look at these properties. It’ll only take us a few hours, and then I can come over later and you can tell me all about your trip back to Pittsburgh. I’m assuming something monumental happened to change your mind.”

  It’s a skillful change of subject, and Coen nods. “Dinner with teammates who helped me push past some things.”

  “Did you tell them what happened with Kyle’s girlfriend?”

  “I wanted to,” he says with a sigh. “I tried to, but they stopped me. Said it didn’t matter. Could tell how remorseful I was. Same things you told me.”

  Laughing, I give him a playful backhand. “See how smart I am?”

  Coen smiles, and it nearly takes my breath away. “Fine,” he says, shifting into gear and pulling out of the lot. “Go do your thing and look at those properties. I’m going to grab us something to grill at my house. Come on by when you’re done.”

  He drops me back at Jamie’s, idling in the street right where he’d picked me up. As I reach for the door handle, I find myself pulled back across the seat, Coen’s mouth once again devouring mine.

  God, the man can kiss.

  It might be the thing I’ll miss most about him.

  “See you a bit later,” I murmur as I hop out.

  I watch him pull away, and when he’s out of sight, I head into Jamie’s office. I still think I’m doing the right thing, but a big part of me now wonders if this is indeed moot. With Coen going back to his life, and his claim that he doesn’t care if I cut down the trees, maybe I should just leave well enough alone.

  ♦

  It’s close to five p.m. by the time I make it to Coen’s. I actually went to my house first to shower as some of the properties we looked at required quite the hike. I went ahead and put on a little makeup and a pretty dress, though I don’t know why.

  Maybe a last hurrah with Coen.

  It sure feels like that.

  When I knock on the door, he doesn’t yell for me to come in but is there, sweeping the door open, hauling me into his arms.

  A hard kiss robs me of my breath, and then I’m in his room.

  We’re naked.

  He’s all over me, and I can’t think straight. He presses his face between my legs, slips fingers inside me, and is ruthless in his quest to make me come over and over again.

  When he finally slides inside, I feel like crying because it’s all so beautiful and fleeting at the same time. Coen murmurs sweet words peppered with the filthiest things, and when he finally comes with a loud groan of relief, I tumble again right along with him.

  Back to earth and breathing regularly, I turn on my side and face Coen. Tucking my hands under the pillow, I ask, “Tell me all about Pittsburgh.”

  He gives me the play-by-play of his trip, which included a pickup game, an afternoon of packing up his condo, and dinner with the guys, which resulted in his decision to return to the game, and a long evening of unpacking everything he’d boxed up earlier.

  “Want to know something funny?” he asks softly.

  I can’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t need those guys to tell me what they did to get me in a place where I could return.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He shakes his head. “You’d already convinced me of it. The whole time they were validating me—which was amazing, don’t get me wrong—all I could think was that this was everything you’d already said. And I’d already chosen to believe you because I trust you. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone like that.”

  Good thing I’m lying down or I might have swooned. I want to bask in the tenderness of his eyes, and I want to see his beautiful smile again. But he leans in, kisses me fast and hard—his signature move—and rolls out of bed.

  His kisses confuse me because even though they might be swift at times, those are the ones that clearly reveal affection and care. That kiss didn’t have a damn thing to do with sex and everything to do with him wanting to show me something.

  “I’ll start the grill. Want to put the salad together?”

  “Sure,” I reply, sliding off the mattress and reaching for my clothes.

  “Stay naked,” he says, and my head jerks up.

  “Stay naked?”

  “I want you naked and convenient. I expect I might want to take advantage of it before we get dinner on the grill.”

  I smirk as I pull my dress over my head. “Nice try.”

  Coen flashes an evil grin. “You can put that dress back on, but trust me, if I want you naked, I’ll get you naked.”

  A shiver runs up my spine. I don’t doubt him one bit. And if he wants to strip me down and bend me over the kitchen table or some other deliciously sexy thing, I won’t say no. I don’t know what the immediate future looks like.

  We haven’t talked about it, but I know we will. I have no clue if he’ll head back to Pittsburgh now or stay the rest of the summer.

  I have no clue if our expiration date is up tonight or in a month, but I will find out.

  And then I’ll deal.

  CHAPTER 26

  Coen

  I sit on my deck, staring out at the backyard. How many times over the past few weeks have I done the same thing, looking at that line of trees, trying to find clarity?

  Those trees don’t represent the same thing they once did. Before they were a wall to keep me safe. Now they’re just keeping me from Tillie.

  And I’m not looking for clarity with regard to hockey. I’ve made the commitment to go back, and not only will I honor it, I’ll do so with a peaceful heart. Tillie made me see things from a different perspective, and my teammates hammered it home.

  What sits on the other side of those trees is the conundrum now. I’m irritated that now they obscure my view of Tillie’s property. If they were gone, I’d be able to see right through to her house.

  Movement catches my eye, and Chip bounds toward me. I hold still as he scampers up the steps, climbs my jeans, and perches on my thigh. His eyes are expressive with the expectation I’ll feed him.

  Leaning over, I grab peanuts from the container. I find it interesting that the peanuts are here for him to get anytime he wants. I’ve watched squirrels raid the bucket, and I keep it stocked.

  But Chip waits until I sit down to come eat. It can’t be my winning personality. Maybe it’s because I shell the nuts for him?

  As I hand food over to him, I say, “Going to be leaving you, buddy. Going to have to do the dirty work yourself.”

  He ignores me, eyes focused on the next shell I’m cracking.

  “I’ll ask Tillie to keep food out for you.” I hand him a peanut, and it goes into his cheek. I pick up the next one. “Of course, if she moves, that’s going to be a problem. It’s ridiculous, really, wanting to move. My injunction is getting thrown out next week, and she’ll be free to cut down the trees.”

  I offer another peanut and ask Chip, “Why would she move forward with buying another piece of property, you ask? Especially since she’ll not only win the court case most likely, but I’ll be moving back to Pittsburgh? No fucking clue, buddy, and we sure as hell didn’t discuss it last night. We were busy doing… well, cover your little furry ears… doing other things.”

  Chip gives zero fucks and has no answers.

  “She says she doesn’t want me to give up the peace I’ve found here. She knows I value my privacy and alone time.”

  I open the last peanut as these two kernels will stretch his cheeks to capacity. “Except,” I drawl as I hand him a nut, “what does it say about me that those fucking trees are really bothering me right now, and I wish they were down so I could be closer to her?”

  I give Chip the last morsel and he takes off, done with me and my musings.

  What is Tillie doing now? I mean, I know she’s painting. Vaguely, I remember her pressing a kiss to my chest as she slipped out of my bed before the sun had fully risen, saying she was going to work. That was over two hours ago, and I haven’t heard a peep from her since.

  My phone rings, and I pick it up from the flat armrest. It’s Callum Derringer.

  I connect. “Hey, Callum… thanks for calling me back.”

  “Anytime, Coen. What can I do for you?”

  I push up out of the chair and pace my deck. “I want to come back. Is that feasible?”

  The silence is so long, I think we might’ve been disconnected, but then Callum says, “Of course, we want you back. But not the way things were before.”

  “I know. And it won’t be. I’ve…” I glance over at the trees, blocking me from Tillie. “I’ve worked things out.”

  “Your suspension ended officially the second game of the first round of the playoffs, so you’re cleared from the league. While it’s my call and I absolutely want you on the ice, I want Brienne’s nod on this.”

  My stomach pitches slightly, but I have faith in her. She’s done amazing work for the team since taking over. “Should I give her a call?”

  “She’s actually out on a recruiting mission,” Callum says, and I can hear what I think is amusement in his voice.

  Owners don’t recruit, but I have an idea of what she might be doing. “Drake McGinn?”

  “The one and only,” Callum says. “Hope she’s successful.”

  “I heard she pissed him off pretty good in the initial meeting.”

  “Rumors,” he says with a chuckle. “But if there’s someone who can turn it around, it’s Brienne Norcross.”

  I’m betting she’s got an amazing offer for him, but I also bet she’s not above groveling if needed. The woman will do whatever she can for her team.

  “Well, I hope she gets him. He’d be an amazing addition.”

  “That he would be,” Callum concurs. “Give me a few days to touch base with Brienne, but honestly, she’s going to want you back too. Training camp materials will go out via email in a few weeks.”

  “Looking forward to it. And Callum?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry for the hell I put you and the team through. I’ll apologize to Brienne when I see her.”

  “Thanks for saying that. Apology accepted, and we all know you were going through shit.”

  He has no clue the exact shit I was going through, but I’ve made peace with it.

  We disconnect and once again, my eyes go to the trees. Fuck if I’m going to let Tillie sell her property. If I did that, I’d be killing her dreams.

  But something more nags at me, some realization I feel like I should come to, but it’s elusive.

  Not sure what it is, but I do know I have to do something to stop her plans from going any further.

  Pivoting, I head into the house, through the kitchen, and straight to the garage where I search for what I need.

  When I have my implements, I march back through the house and into the backyard. With purpose, I stride to the line of trees that separates our houses, and I set the chainsaw on the ground, tossing the gloves on top of it.

  Then I pop the top off the can of bright blue spray paint I’d found on a shelf, and I mark the trees. There are far too many to complete with a single can of paint, but I mark the smaller ones that I know I can cut down myself. I walk straight through the copse, marking easy trees to my left and right until I reach the edge of Tillie’s yard.

  Her house sits there, tidy and quiet looking. Her art studio window faces this way, and I wonder if she sees me. Assuming she’s still in there. From the angle, I can’t tell if her car is in the driveway.

  After I paint the final tree, I trudge back through to my yard and toss the can on the ground. I pull on the gloves and grab the chainsaw.

  I’ve used it around the property, cutting through vines and overgrown bushes. I used it once on a downed tree that was mostly rotten. I’ve never cut down a live tree before, but it can’t be that hard. I just have to stay out of the way when it falls, right?

  I got this.

  Moving through the thin line of trees back to Tillie’s side, I locate the skinniest and shortest—a young pine about twenty feet tall, no thicker than my thigh—which means I’ll be able to cut through it like butter.

  The tree, not my thigh.

  I put the chainsaw on the ground, toggle the switch, and purge the valve. I then hold on tight and rip the cord, feeling satisfaction as it rumbles to life on the first attempt.

  Lifting it, I can’t stop the ridiculous smile of near achievement that breaks free as I square up to the young pine.

  I’ve had much success with this tool, so I’m slightly surprised that it does not, in fact, cut through the wood like butter. I have to put some pressure on it, but as the teeth dig in, it starts to work its way through. I add a slight back-and-forth motion, which speeds the process, and in about thirty seconds, I’m all the way through the trunk.

  The tree immediately lists, not away from me as I’d hoped, but toward me. In the split second it takes for it to start falling my way, I realize my game plan for directional gravity is nonexistent.

  Luckily, I’m quicker than the tree as it falls toward Tillie’s yard, and I easily scramble away. Because the limbs are up higher than where I cut, I’m easily out of their reach as the tree crashes to the ground.

  I power off the chainsaw, as this didn’t go quite as expected. I have to cut this up quickly and move it off her lawn, but before I can consider where to start, Tillie’s yelling at me, “What in the hell are you doing, Coen?”

  Glancing over, I see her stomping across the yard toward me, arms swinging to propel her, a glare leveled right at me.

  The answer seems obvious, but I answer, anyway. “Cutting down the trees.”

  “You could have killed yourself,” she snaps as she reaches the head of the tree with its fluffy branches and pine needles obscuring most of her from me. “I was watching from the window, and you had no clue as to which way the tree was going to fall.”

  “I have catlike reflexes,” I reply with a grin as I place the chainsaw on the ground.

  And fuck… when is the last time I grinned where I felt it all through my body?

  She apparently doesn’t find me funny and barrels toward me.

  “I was totally safe,” I assure her.

  Tillie rolls her eyes, and it’s one of the things I adore most about her. “Why are you cutting down trees?” she huffs in exasperation.

  “Why? Because you want to build a studio, and you need a driveway.”

  “But you need your space and privacy,” she counters.

  “Do I?”

  Tillie blinks up at me. “You’re the one who sued me to keep the trees. It was important to you.”

  “I’m thinking was is the key word. Clearly, I’m not still feeling that if I’m out here cutting them down. And besides, no way in hell I’m letting you sell your property.”

  Her brows furrow.

  I grab her hand and turn her toward the line of trees that separates our homes. “I’ve been thinking, and hear me out—we cut down all these trees, not just the ones needed for a driveway. We combine our two properties together—”

  Her head whips to look up at me. “Wait! What?”

  I sweep a hand out in front of us. “Imagine it… we can live in my cabin, since it’s larger. And we can convert your house into a studio. It will be far easier than to build from scratch, and your house already has great light, which I’m assuming artists need. And people could then use your existing driveway. We’ll put in a path from the back deck of our cabin over there so you can walk to the studio each day. It will be perfect.”

  “We?” she whispers, wearing a deep frown.

  “Yes, we. I’ll help you when I can.”

  “You want me to move into your cabin?” she asks, voice still low and soft.

  Disbelieving.

  “Yes,” I exclaim happily—almost giddily—as I pull her into my arms. She tips her head back, confusion etched on every angle of her face, so I kiss her to try to alleviate some of it.

  “But… you’re moving back to Pittsburgh.”

  “Well, we need to talk about that.” I dip my head and kiss her again, ever so slowly. I feel her body start to relax, then melt against me. Moving my lips to her ear, I say, “I’m not ready to give you up when I go back.”

  Tillie’s entire body jerks, and she again looks up at me. I band my arms around her lower back so she can’t escape.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means that I never thought in a million years I’d find someone like you. Hell, I wasn’t even looking, and when I moved here, I wanted to be left alone with my misery. But then you came along, and well… you turned my world upside down.”