I step away as Evan heads out to meet a delivery truck at the work site, pressing a long, slow kiss to my lips before he goes. The kind of kiss that promises more later, that says he's not done with me yet.
Not even close.
I linger in the kitchen, still floating on a cloud of slow kisses. I sip my coffee, flipping through a notebook I left open on the counter of sketches and story ideas I've been working on since I got here.
Writing. The thing I came here to do but got distracted from by a certain mountain man with gentle hands and a guarded heart.
Until Dylan walks in.
He's freshly showered, hair still damp, wearing that casual suspicion on his face. I can see the wheels turning in his head, the protective big brother instincts that have been sharpened by years of looking out for me.
"Morning," I say, trying to sound normal even though my heart is suddenly racing.
"Hey." He grabs a mug from the cabinet, moving with the kind of timing that tells me this conversation has been planned. "Sleep okay?"
"Yep."
He pours himself some coffee, taking his time, like he's gathering his thoughts. "In your room?"
I freeze, mug halfway to my lips.
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with implication and big brother protectiveness and the weight of secrets I'm not sure I'm ready to share.
Then I force a smile, trying to project innocence I definitely don't feel. "Where else would I sleep?"
"I don't know. Just wondering." He leans against the counter, studying me with eyes that miss nothing. "Figured I'd ask before I walked in on something scarring."
"Dylan."
He lifts a hand, stopping me mid-protest. "You don't have to lie, Cass."
The words hit me like a cold wave. Of course he knows. Dylan's always been able to read me like an open book. He’s always been too smart for his own good.
I blink, trying to process how much he's figured out and how much trouble Evan might be in.
"Look," he says, his voice gentler now, "I've known Evan since we were seventeen. Seen him with women before, seen him try to make relationships work. And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."
My heart skips.
"Then why?"
"Because if he's serious," Dylan says, leveling his gaze. "I want to know. And if he's not, I want to knock his teeth out."
The protective threat should probably annoy me, but instead it makes me smile. This is Dylan. Fierce and loyal and willing to throw down for the people he loves.
I set my mug down slowly, meeting his eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen."
"But it did."
"Yes."
He runs a hand through his hair and exhales hard, like he's been holding his breath for this conversation. "You sure about him?"
The question is simple, but the answer is anything but. Am I sure about Evan? About a man who lives alone in the mountains, who's spent years building walls around his heart? About someone who could break me in ways David never could?
"I am," I say, and I'm surprised by how certain I sound.
He stares at me for a long time, and I can see him processing this information, weighing it against everything he knows about both of us.
