It wasn’t easy to let people in. Really, I’d only ever let my best friend Elizabeth get close to me.
Arm’s distance was safer.
Less pain that way.
But what could I do when a wild mountain man had stolen my senses? I’d lost myself in Thatcher, already intoxicated by him.
Elizabeth’s voice was screeching in my head that I needed to get out now, fly back to New York and forget I’d found a man who could hurt me.
But I knew the truth. Thatcher could only hurt me because somehow I’d started tofeelsomething for him.
As I was standing in the shower with hot water soothing my soul, Thatcher stepped in, naked and open, a light shining in his eyes.
He lifted my hands, kissing each of my fingers in turn, before cupping the back of my head and kissing me.
This wasn’t a man looking for a one-night stand. This was a man who intended to say.
We made love in the shower, and it was different than the night before.
Sensual. Slow.
As though he were showing me what my future could look like with him.
The water had turned cool by the time we finished, but neither of us seemed to mind.
I came with the water streaming down on us, wet skin against wet skin, the feel of him deep inside me. Somehow it was even more intimate than anything else we’d done.
And when he came a few minutes later, he did it with his eyes fixed on me. Anguish hinted in his eyes as he released, and I could only imagine he felt the same thing I did… pain that such a beautiful thing was starting.
Because love stories only happen in fiction. In real life, they don’t always have happy endings.
At least not for me.
Then we got dressed, and he led me back to my living room, where we sat with boxes still unpacked around us. I hadn’t turned this place into a home yet. I’d been too focused on the idea of leaving.
Why bother unpacking when you just have to pack it all up again?
The boxes were a sign of a life in flux.
I wasn’t grounded anywhere. I had no deep roots. No permanent home.
And now he was sitting across from me on one of those cardboard boxes with an intent expression in his eyes.
“Where’s your couch?” he asked.
“In storage. In New York.”
“I thought you moved here.”
“I did. But it’s on a trial basis.”
The faintest hint of a frown landed on his lips. “You mean it’s not permanent? Everyone told me you’d moved here for good.”
“Why’d you ask around about me?” I deflected.
His expression softened. “Why do you think? Because… I like you.”
“But… we haven’t gotten along until last night.”
