STORM

Ashes & Embers series, book one

Copyright © 2014 by Carian Cole

All Rights Reserved.

Edited by Hot Tree Editing

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Proofreading by: Proofreading By The Page

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Cover design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

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Front cover photography by Joel Hicks Photography

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Model: Joel Hicks

Back cover photography by MHPhotography

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Model: Amee Darlene Thompson

Interior design and formatting by Perfectly Publishable

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No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the permission of the author, which is a violation of the International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real except where noted and authorized. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

STORM

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sneak Peek—Vandal

Sneak Peek—Lukas

Sneak Peek—Talon

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Books by Carian Cole

To my mom, who taught me to chase my dreams, follow my heart, and believe in myself. I miss you every day.

To my husband, Eddie, who has loved me unconditionally since the day we met, has supported all my crazy ideas, listened to my incessant ramblings, and served as my number one muse. I love you with all my heartbeats, forever.

SOMETIMES, WHEN I’M DRIVING ALONE, I go into what I call the ‘road coma’, where I suddenly become acutely aware that I have no recollection of the past, say, twenty or so miles of driving. I can’t remember a darn thing. Not the road, not stopping at stop signs, not what was on the radio . . . it’s a total blank. A quick flash of fear will grip me, and I’ll think what if I ran someone over and don’t even know it? Surely, if I had, I would have experienced a quick bump and thump and snapped out of it.

Right?

I blink and clutch the steering wheel, suddenly realizing I am driving on a winding, narrow mountain road that’s covered with snow. When I left my house an hour ago, the snow was barely coming down. I glance at the GPS, which hasn’t said a word in a long time. The little blue arrow is pointing to what must be nowhere because I don’t see a thing up here except for trees and snow. Lots of snow. Realizing I’m driving at dusk without my headlights on, I flick them on and the beams highlight the snow even more. I swallow hard and wonder if the GPS has been talking to me while I was in a road coma and I just ignored it. Michael promised me when I left the house earlier that there was no way I could get lost with this tiny digital device, but now I am having serious doubts.

I grab my cell phone to call him and tell him I am, indeed, very lost, but the phone is in SOS mode. Sighing, I throw it back onto the passenger seat where it bounces and lands on the passenger-side floor. I reach down to grab it, inadvertently turning the wheel and the car starts to slide. Like the spaz I am, I jerk the wheel back and hit the brakes, and the car goes into a total spin. The snow is coming down hard in a zigzag, and all I can see is a spinning white blur as I try to get the car under control. I’m not even sure what side of the road I’m on or if I’m even going in the right direction anymore. The car and I are like a feather in the wind, blowing this way and that, twirling in the gusts until we finally come to a final stop in a ditch, my head bouncing lightly off the steering wheel. I force my eyes open and peer around. No, it wasn’t a crash. Not really. It was a rather anti-climactic stop after all the spinning. The car just came to a halt—nose-first off the side of the road. While I am thankful the car isn’t totaled with half my head sticking out of the windshield, I am most definitely stuck, tires spinning. Giving up, I turn the car off, not sure it should be running in case I somehow damaged the engine. Cars always seem to blow up on TV shows when they crash into something.

I reach for my cell again, silently praying for a signal, but there’s nothing. Zero bars. I try to remember if I passed any houses or gas stations while in my driving-induced stupor, but I can’t recall the last time I saw any signs of civilization, which really enforces the fact that I am most likely nowhere near the posh hotel where my marketing and branding seminar is being held this weekend. I am lost and stuck. Lost and stuck. My heart starts to beat faster. Lost and stuck. Stuck and lost. Zero bars.

Okay, Evelyn, stay calm. Deep breaths. Now is not the time to have a panic attack. Get your shit together!

“Hey, you okay?” The pounding of a palm on the window scares the heck out of me. I jump and scream. Sasquatch with a black cowboy hat and a long black coat, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, is now trying to break into my car.

Oh, my God! Psycho kidnapper murderer in the snowstorm.

“Hello?” he calls, opening the door, causing snow to fall into the car and onto my lap. I cringe away from him, smashing myself against the middle console of the car seat, not sure what he’s doing out here in the woods and why he’s now trying to get into my car. I sneak a peek at him and see he has a piercing in his eyebrow.

What makes people want to stick strange metal objects into their face?

“Don’t touch me!” I scream as he reaches into the car. I wish I had a gun. Or a knife. But all I have is a pack of orange Tic-Tac’s, and although I did get one stuck in my throat once, I doubt I could use them as a self-defense weapon right now.

“Okay, lady, just calm down. Did you hit your head?”

Lady? Who’s he calling lady? He only looks a little bit older than I am—maybe early thirties. I thought men only called older ladies ‘lady’.

“No, I didn’t hit my head.” Or did I? I reach up and start touching my head. There is a little sore spot and it feels wet. I pull my finger away and examine it. Blood!

“Oh, my God. I think I cracked my skull open!”

“No, you didn’t. It’s just a little bump.”

“It’s bleeding!” I rummage around in my purse, pull out a crumpled tissue and blot my head. It’s just a tiny bit of blood, but still. Sasquatch watches me with an amused smirk, then reaches out his hand and pushes my long hair away from my forehead.

“You’re okay,” he says. “Just a tiny bump.”

I pull my head away. “Please, don’t touch me, and get your head out of my car.”

Laughing, he ignores my request and kneels next to the car, resting his arm on the inside of my open door as if we’re just hanging out having a chit-chat, instead of sitting on the side of the road—in a blizzard—in a ditch. I’m pretty sure he’s insane.

“So . . . what are you doing way out here?” he asks casually.

“My car is stuck,” I reply, sniffling. My nose is running from the cold air.

“Yeah, uh . . . I can see that. I meant, where were you headed before you got yourself stuck in this ditch?”

“To the Falls Inn.”

“The Falls Inn?” he repeats and lets out another laugh. “Baby, you ain’t anywhere near the Falls fucking Inn. It’s about fifty miles away. I guess if your car had kept going about fifty miles through the woods, you might have landed there. Is that what you were trying to do?”

Damn GPS! I should never have relied on that useless device. My situation is starting to feel worse by the minute. Where the hell am I, and how am I going to get to my meeting? Or home, for that matter. I can’t even call my boss to tell him I’m delayed, or Michael to come get me.

“—and it’s about a few miles up the road.” Oh. Sasquatch has been talking to me while I was having a conversation inside my head.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask him. Snow is accumulating on the brim of his hat. Almost a quarter-inch, it seems. That can’t be good.

“I said I have a cabin a few miles up the road. We can go there and wait out the storm. My truck is parked on the road. I pulled over when I saw you spin out and crash. You almost hit me, ya know.”

Oh, hell no! The old ‘cabin in the woods’ story. I wonder how many psychos have used this line. It seems to be the basis of many a horror movie or creepy novel.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so, but thank you for the offer.” Yes, be polite and maybe he will go away without killing me, leaving my body bloodied and beaten in the snow on the side of this mountain.

“Well, I can’t fuckin’ leave you here. This snowstorm is supposed to go on for almost the entire weekend. My cell phone doesn’t work here, and I’m assuming yours doesn’t either or else you’d be on it right now. They’re expecting two feet of snow or more. You could freeze or starve to death out here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, so murdering psychopaths announce their intentions to their victims now?” I lower my voice to a mock man’s psycho voice. “Excuse me, miss, but I shall commence killing you now. Please, remain in the vehicle until I have reached the designated killing area.”

He lets out a deep laugh and then a long sigh.

“You’re cute . . . but I’m not a psycho. I’m just the guy who was driving behind you when you lost control of your car. And, I might add, you should be grateful I’m even here. Not many people drive this road.”

Terrific! Backwoods road that no one ever uses! The murder scene could not be planned out any better.

I stand my ground, determined to heed the advice we are all given as children: Never get in a car with a stranger. “I’m not going anywhere with you, so you can just get yourself out of my doorway and head up to your cabin. Thank you for the offer, though.”

He lights up another cigarette and takes a few long drags before responding to me. “Look, I’m not leaving you here. I don’t know if it’s ’cause you hit your head, or if you’re just mentally unstable, or what . . . but I sure as shit am not leaving you here in a blizzard, no matter how annoying you are. So, stop being unreasonable. A friend of mine owns an auto repair shop in town. I’ll call him when we get to the cabin and have him tow your car out of here when the storm is over.”

I know Sasquatch is right. I can’t stay in the car and just wait for someone to find me, or hope I might get more than zero bars on my cell phone. I can either stay here and surely die, or go with him and hope he isn’t some deranged killer on the loose.

“Fine,” I mutter in defeat.

He stands up and brushes the snow off himself then shakes his head, flinging snow everywhere before he takes his sunglasses off to wipe away the snowflakes. “Let’s go.”

I squint up at him, thinking I might be hallucinating. He’s wearing black kohl eyeliner under his incredibly emerald green eyes. Seriously, eyeliner?

“Excuse me,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

He rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Never mind that. Let’s just go already.” He puts his sunglasses back on.

I can’t let it go. “Are you some kind of cross-dresser or something?”

“Fuck to the no.”

“Then why are you wearing eyeliner?” And wearing it very well, I might add. I can never create the smoky, perfectly smudged look he’s got going on.

“It’s part of my persona. Can we talk about this shit later? We’re in the middle of a fuckin’ blizzard. Not exactly the time to be talkin’ about makeup.”

I suppose it’s part of his weird Goth look, which I’ve only really seen on TV in music videos and vampire movies. Maybe he’s a Twilight fan? Good Lord, I hope not. I can’t take any more sparkly vampires. My best friend is a huge Twilight fan and insists on watching the movies every time we have a girls’ night in.

He holds out his hand to help me out of the car, a polite gesture, which doesn’t quite match the rest of him.

“I can’t walk in the snow,” I say meekly.

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because I’m wearing heels.”

“Heels? Who the hell wears heels in weather like this?” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck my life!” he screams up into the snow-filled sky. “I just wanted an uneventful weekend. Alone.”

“It wasn’t snowing this bad when I left, okay? Yeesh. What the hell do you know about fashion anyway?” I nod my head at his ensemble of faded ripped jeans and work boots, which in reality is much better than the business pantsuit and high heels I’m currently wearing.

“I’m going to have to effin’ carry you to my truck then.”

“Carry me? No way. You are not touching me.” I cross my arms. I know I must look like a pouting child, but I don’t really care.

He sighs, reaches into the car and before I can even protest, he has me scooped up without effort into his arms.

“Enough of your bullshit. Done,” he states, then kicks my door shut and starts to walk up the snowy hill. I have no choice but to put my arms around his neck. Even with his coat on, I can feel very muscular shoulders and arms. He’s a big guy; my guess would put him at about six-two or taller.

“Please, don’t drop me,” I say, hanging on to him, but trying not to touch him at the same time.

“Are you kidding me? You weigh next to nothing. Don’t you eat?”

“Yes, I eat. You feel very big.” I immediately want to take my words back once I realize what just came out of my mouth. “I mean . . . I can feel the muscles in your shoulders and back.” Heat rises to my cheeks and I beg the universe to swallow me up.

He’s laughing at me. “Shit, you keep talking like that and I might drop you.”

“At this point, I don’t think I care. I just want this ordeal to be over.”

Finally, we get to the road and he treads over to his big, black pick-up truck, which is now covered with a few inches of snow. The rate of snowfall is alarming to me, even as a New Hampshire native. I reach over and open the passenger side door when we get close enough.

“Oh, my God!” I scream. “A wolf got in your truck!” I turn my head away from the hulking beast and bury my face into his neck.

“Calm the hell down! It’s just my dog. Are you always this crazy?”

“He’s huge!” I scream, not looking at the enormous furry thing panting at us.

Eyeliner Sasquatch tries to put me in the truck, and I scream some more, kicking my legs out. “Are you sure he won’t bite? He’s looking at me like I’m lunch.”

The guy holding me grinds his teeth, then starts yelling.

“Niko! Get in the back.” The dog whimpers. “In the back! Now!” The wolf-like dog relents and jumps into the back seat of the extended cab. Sasquatch puts me down on the passenger seat.

“Don’t be afraid of him. He’s not going to hurt you. He’s a big teddy bear.”

I run my hands through my long hair, which is wet and slightly crunchy from the snow. “You and your dog are both kinda scary. No offense.”

“None taken. Now, let’s get out of here.” He starts to close the door, but I put my arm out and stop him.

“Wait! I just remembered my purse and travel bag are still in my car.”

“So?”

“I need them. All my stuff is in there.”

“Really?” he asks. “Are your meds in there, too?”

Meds? What’s he talking about? “Huh?” I tilt my head at him.

“You must be on some kind of meds for whatever mental illness you have. You want me to walk all the way back down that fuckin’ ditch just to get your bag full of clothes and more stupid shoes?”

“I’m sorry, but my laptop is in there, and it has all my work on it, which I need for my meeting—”

“There’s no way in hell you’re getting to that meeting this weekend, honey. Just sayin’.”

“I still need my things! I can’t just leave my personal stuff out here in the middle of nowhere!”

He lights up another cigarette, takes a long drag, and stares off into the woods toward my car. I see smoking is a pattern with him when he is thinking. “Fine!” he finally says. “Just sit there and try not to get into any more accidents, okay? And don’t touch anything.”

I shiver as I watch him trudge back down the hill to my car. I am acutely aware of the humongous dog in the backseat breathing down my neck. I do not want to be alone in the truck with this animal, or his owner, or both of them. I can’t understand how this day went so wrong, so fast! I should be at a cozy hotel right now, soaking in a nice hot bath and ordering room service—not sitting in a blizzard with this stranger and his obscenely huge dog. I snap down the sun visor and flip down the mirror so I can keep an eye on the dog behind me. I can see he is watching me in the mirror with his tongue hanging out. He seems to be smirking at me, just like his master.

After what seems like eons later, I see Sasquatch walking back up to the truck, the snow swirling around him. He opens the truck door, throws my bags in, and climbs in behind the wheel.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Are you sure you don’t want a latte? Maybe I could walk to Starbucks in this blizzard for you and get you a coffee.”

Actually, I could totally go for a nice hot white chocolate mocha right now, with some whipped cream and those little chocolate curls they put on top for the holidays.

“I’m sorry, okay?” I say to him. “Let’s just go.” I just want to get away from this guy and find a way to get to my hotel or back home as soon as possible. And now I really want a white mocha, like yesterday.

He starts his truck and the engine roars. “My cabin is about two miles up the road.” He turns the heat up higher. “Once we get there, we can call a tow truck for your car if the phones are working.”

“And what if the phones aren’t working?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to hang out until they are working, or until they plow the roads enough for me to drive you to town.”

I let out a big, aggravated sigh. “This day sucks.”

He nods in agreement. “A wicked lot.”

The snow is now coming down so hard and fast, we can barely see out the windshield. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen such a bad snowstorm. In a twisted way, I’m kind of glad my car got stuck because I can’t even imagine trying to drive myself in this snow right now, especially as it’s now becoming even darker out.

We drive slowly in awkward silence when suddenly a deer jumps out from the woods on the side of the road, right in front of the truck. I scream as Sasquatch swerves and the truck starts to slide and spin, gaining speed. He throws one arm across my chest to hold me against the seat as he tries to regain control of the truck, but it’s not working. I scream again as the truck flies off the road and into the woods, crashing downhill and plowing down small trees, until it finally comes to a halt, wedged amongst a bunch of larger trees on the side of a hill.

“Fuck!” He slams both his hands against the steering wheel. “I can’t fucking believe this shit!” He turns to me. “And why the fuck wasn’t your seatbelt on?”

I move away from him and smash myself against the door. “I’m sorry.” My voice sounds small and weak. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like I’m going to pass out.

He rests his head against the steering wheel and takes several deep breaths. “I’m sorry for yelling at ya,” he finally says, his voice level and calm, but I can see it’s a struggle for him. “Are you okay?” He turns to me, and I can see my reflection in his sunglasses.

I nod, afraid to talk. I can’t stand to hear the fear in my own voice. He reaches into the back seat and pets his dog. “You okay, Niko?” The dog whimpers and licks his hand. “That’s a good boy,” he says softly, caressing the dog’s head. “You’re okay.”

He tries to restart the truck, but it’s completely dead. I can’t believe this; honestly, I just can’t.

“Wh-what are we going to do?” I ask, fear settling deep in my stomach at the thought of being stranded out here.

“Well, we’re out of cars, so unless you want to walk or ride the dog to my place, we’re stuck here.”

Terror rises in me like a tidal wave and all-too-familiar irrational anxiety takes over. “What? What do you mean? We have to get out of here. We could freeze or starve, you said so yourself, and—”

“Shh!” he yells, making me jump. “Just calm the hell down, okay? Obviously, both of the cars are fucked. We are still about a mile, maybe more, from my place, and that’s way too far to walk in this storm—especially with you wearing those fuck-me pumps.”

“Can you give it a rest about my shoes, please?”

“Whatever. The storm will probably stop tonight or sometime tomorrow, so we’re gonna have to just stay put until the plow truck comes by, and we’ll have to hitch a ride. Until then, we’re in luck, because I stopped at the grocery store on the way to my cabin. I think I have enough things we can eat and drink to keep us going until then, as long as it all doesn’t freeze.”

Keep us going? What does that mean?

“ . . . I have a big blanket in the back seat, so we should be able to stay pretty warm. It’s really heavy and thick.”

I’m a shaking and shivering mess, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m cold, or scared out of my mind, or maybe both. I want to get out of this truck and away from this guy and his dog right now. I beg myself not to panic, even though I know it’s inevitable because I’ve had panic attacks since I was a little girl, brought on by all sorts of things. Being stuck in a truck in the middle of the woods is definitely a perfect recipe to bring an epic one on.

He reaches across the seat and touches my leg. “Hey, we’re gonna be okay. Don’t worry.” I cross my arms in front of me, hugging myself.

I nod, but I refuse to talk, and he continues. “Okay, so I think we should both sit in the back seat, since there’s a lot of room back there and we can put the blanket over us. I think it will help keep us warmer.”

“What about the dog?” No way am I going to sit close to that monstrous animal. I wish my cat were with me. Halo is warm, sweet, and would cuddle up on my lap and purr me into a comforting lull.

“ . . . have to sit up front. He’s got a ton of fur and he’s made for the cold, so he’ll be fine.”

The last thing I want to do is sit in the backseat under a blanket with this longhaired, eye-linered, sunglassed, face-pierced, cowboy hat-wearing dude. What strange Hell have I fallen into?

“Okay, so you climb in back and I’ll call Niko up here, and then I’ll move back with you, all right? I know he freaks you out, but he’s not gonna hurt ya.”

I swear under my breath and climb over the seat and into the back, arranging myself as far into a corner as I can while he maneuvers the dog into the front before climbing into the back himself. He holds up a huge, thick fleece blanket, shakes it out, and then lays it over our laps.

“It’s got some dog hair on it, but at least it’s warm and clean, except for the fur.”

I give him a weak smile. “This will work.”

The back seat of the extended cab is pretty big, thankfully. I haven’t been in a pick-up truck in years, and I don’t remember them having these huge backseats. It must be something the newer models have.

“This is nice, very roomy.” I have no idea what else to say.

He offers his crooked smile and laughs. “Um, thanks?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation. This is really awkward.”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ is, in a bad way. But it looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while, so we’re gonna have to be friends for a few days. Maybe we should start with names. What’s yours?”

“Evelyn. And you?”

“Storm.”

“Storm?” I repeat. “Are you kidding me?” The irony.

“Yeah . . . When my mom showed my dad the ultrasound photo, he said it looked like a bunch of dark storm clouds to him, so they named me Storm.”

“It must be weird to have a name you have to explain the meaning of every time you meet someone.”

“No, not at all. I like my name. At least it’s not fucking boring like Joe, or Michael.”

That reminds me of Michael, and I wonder what he’s doing. If I don’t call him, he’s going to start to worry about me. Maybe he’ll come looking for me and save me from this fresh Hell.

Storm leans forward and takes off his coat. “This got wet while I went on the tour of the forest for your bags. I think it’s best if I just take it off so I don’t sit here like a sponge, huh?” He folds it up and puts it on the front seat, and then he removes his hat and pushes his sunglasses on top of his head.

My eyes are mesmerized by him, betraying the rest of me, which is trying to get as far away from him as possible. His hair is dark brown and long, a few inches past his shoulders. On the right side, two thin sections are dyed—one purple, one white. He’s wearing a black cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and I can see tattoos covering both of his arms, from his wrists up to his elbows. The artwork extends beyond the collar of his sweater, up toward his neck. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like him before, and I’m fascinated, just gawking at him like an exotic zoo animal. His eyes meet mine and I quickly glance away.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“You were staring at me. Do you want to say something?”

“No . . . I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve just never seen anyone who looks like you up close before.”

He raises his brows at me and smirks. “Looks like me? Is that an insult, or a compliment?”

I shake my head and squirm a bit. “Definitely not an insult.”

“Lemme guess . . . you’re used to the jock type with short hair and their preppy pants and loafers?”

I nod admittedly. “Yeah, I suppose so. I’m not used to men with eyeliner and colored stripes in their hair.”

He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. “I like being different. I don’t feel the need to fuckin’ blend.”

I won’t admit it to him, but I admire it. Michael is a blender. I can barely tell him and his friends apart anymore, dressing the same, driving the same kind of car, short hair with a little spiky mess in the front. I suppose I’m the same, dressing like all the other girls in the office with the latest fashions. But once I’m home and alone, I can’t wait to throw on an old t-shirt, put on yoga pants, and wear pink Converse sneakers.

“So, Evelyn, what kind of meeting were you heading up to?”

“It was for work.”

“I gathered that. What do you do?”

“I’m a marketing exec. at a small advertising firm. I was supposed to be going to a seminar on branding and marketing strategies for new small businesses.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Well, as you said, I’m obviously going to miss it now. My boss is going to be pissed. It cost quite a bit of money to register and pay for the room and everything.”

“What the fuck, Ev? You’re stuck in a ditch in a blizzard. I think he’ll understand.”

Did he seriously just give me a nickname? I shake my head, moving on and thinking back to my current situation. I can already hear Jim screaming about wasting money and my lack of responsibility, especially as the youngest employee at the office, which he always seems to point out. He only cares about money and profit.

“My boss is not exactly an understanding person.”

“Fuck him then. You don’t need that shit.”

“Yeah, but I do need my job. And do you always talk like that?”

“If he gives you any shit, let me know, and I’ll cover the costs he lost from your ditch-dive. And yes, I fuckin’ do talk like this.”

“What? Are you crazy? You can’t give me money.”

“Yeah, I’m probably a little crazy. But it’s no fucking big deal to me. I don’t want some douche stressing you out over money. Life’s too short for that.”

I stare at him for a moment, realizing he’s very serious. “Why do you care?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I dunno. Why not? I’m not a greedy person.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but thank you,” I say sincerely.

He yawns. “No problem.”

“Do you work?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. I don’t want to sit in silence in the dark truck because that just feels really awkward.

“Yeah, even people who look like me have jobs,” he responds sarcastically. Ouch.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, what do you do for work?” I really need to watch how I word things. Sometimes really dumb stuff spews out of my mouth.

“I build custom motorcycles.”

Wow. I’ve never been on a motorcycle, and I’m scared of them, but it sounds like an interesting career to actually build them.

“That sounds pretty cool. I’ve never been on one.”

He bugs his eyes out at me as if I have ten heads. “What? Seriously?”

I nod. “I’ve always been scared of them.”

He smiles, and it lights up his entire face. “I’ll tell you what, Evie. Come spring, I’ll take you on a ride on this very road where we just crashed. It’s awesome that time of year. There’s a cool little waterfall a ways up that’s beautiful and so freakin’ peaceful. You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know about that . . .” He’s making spring plans already? With me? What the heck have I gotten myself into here?

“Trust me. I’ll go slow and take you on my favorite bike. I promise you’ll love it.” He looks so hopeful that I have to agree to it. And he called me ‘Evie’. No one’s called me that since I was a little girl.

“I guess I can think about it. If you promise to go really, really slow.”

“Deal.”

I wonder if our little ride will ever actually happen. What if this storm gets worse and we’re stuck out here for days? What if no one finds us and we starve or freeze to death? Will the insurance company pay for my car damage? Will Michael remember to feed Halo?

I start to shake and breathe heavily, and my hand instinctively grips the door handle. I shut my eyes tight and will the fear to stop. Please, stop, I beg myself. Not here, not now, not with him. But it’s too late. The uncontrollable trembling has already started.

“Hey, are you all right, Evelyn?” Sarcasm is replaced with concern. I nod, unable to find my voice, gripping the door handle even tighter, fighting the urge to fling the door open and run. To where, I don’t know, but I have to get out of this truck. I have to get out of here and make the fear stop.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and leans toward me. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You’re all pale. Talk to me.”

A wave of dizziness washes over me, leaving me feeling nauseous and short of breath.

“Panic attack,” I whisper. “I’ve had them since I was a little girl . . .” My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears and now the feverish sensation is coming on, causing me to break out in a light sweat even though I’m freezing. I’m a mess.

“Oh, fuck.” He turns sideways on the seat, so his back is leaning against the door. “Come here.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me to him, my back against his chest. Covering us with the blanket, he then wraps his arms around the front of me in a bear hug.

“Just lean against me,” he says softly. “Close your eyes and just listen to my voice.”

My hands come up to clasp around his. My entire body is shaking and my brain is going a thousand miles a minute, hundreds of fears and bad thoughts rushing in. I hate this feeling so much. I just want it to stop.

Storm starts to talk, his voice soft and smooth, just above a whisper. “When I was little, I used to spend the weekends at my grandparents’ house. They lived on two-hundred acres of land, mostly mountain. It used to be a farm and the old barn and some other buildings are still on the property. My grandfather used them for storage. Their house is beautiful, all brick with lots of windows. It’s big; lots of bedrooms, a huge dining room, but super comfy. My gram loves to decorate. She’s one of those types who decorate for each season and holiday, like putting those little animated statues up at Christmas and shit. The living room has a huge fireplace and I loved to sleep in front of it in the winters. When all us kids stayed there, some of us slept on the floor in the living room.”

As he’s talking, he’s gently stroking my hand and fingers with his. The sound of his voice and his gentle touch lulls me. I close my eyes and allow my body to relax into his.

“Gram loved to bake and would make us these awesome snickerdoodle cookies, and real hot cocoa made from real chocolate with warm milk and homemade whipped cream. It was frickin’ awesome. My brothers, my little sister, and I used to walk the trails on the property, and we’d see deer and some foxes. If it were snowing, my grandfather would come outside and build these huge snowmen with us. One year, he even made us an igloo. Then we’d all go inside, half-frozen, and Gram would have homemade soup or stew ready for us. It was a really great way to grow up. I always felt safe and happy there. Even now, if I’m going through a fucked-up time, I’ll go stay at their house for a few days, and Gram will treat me just like I’m ten years old. And ya know what? I don’t even care, ‘cause sometimes we all just need to be taken care of a little bit. Right?”

I nod, my breathing and heart rate slowing back down to normal. “Thank you, Storm,” I whisper. My panic attack has stopped. I don’t know how he knew it would work, but it did. I didn’t have to take a sedative, or run home to hide, or sit in a crumbling mess for hours like I usually do when one comes on. All I needed was this man’s arms around me with the sound of his voice sharing sweet memories.

I sit up to move back to my side of the truck, but he gently holds me back against him.

“Stay like this. I’ll keep you warm.”

That’s true; I am much warmer wrapped against him. My brain struggles to accept that it’s okay to essentially cuddle with someone in a dire situation, even though he’s sorta weird and scary and wearing eyeliner for some unknown persona that has yet to be explained.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound in the truck is the dog’s gentle breathing as he sleeps. Niko seems unfazed by our ordeal and content to just have Storm with him in the truck.

“Niko looks so peaceful now,” I observe. “I have a cat at home.”

Storm lets out a small laugh like he’s amused with me. “Really? Okay . . . tell me about your cat.”

Some of Storm’s hair is lying across my shoulder, mingling with my own, and it’s odd, to see a man’s long hair entangled with mine—his dark, almost black, against my cherry brown. I find it slightly erotic. I quickly shake the thoughts out of my head.

“His name is Halo. He’s pure white and he was born deaf. My mom gave him to me for my eighth birthday. He’s eighteen years old.”

“Eighteen? Are you kidding me?” he asks, clearly shocked. “He’s old enough to drive!”

I nod and giggle. “Yup. He’s great. Even though he can’t hear, he’s still really sweet. He follows me all over the house and sleeps with me every night. He has really pretty blue eyes. It’s like you could get lost in them, they are so blue. Like the sky.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a deaf cat, or a dog, for that matter. I love animals. Niko here is my best friend. He’s eight years old.”

“I’ve had Halo for so long I can’t imagine life without him. It’s hard to think he’s so old now. I worry all the time something will happen to him. Like now, I hope he’s okay. I hope Michael is feeding him and making sure he has fresh water.”

“Michael?” he repeats.

“My boyfriend. We’ve been together since high school.”

“Not married?”

Everyone says that and yes, it bothers me. Twelve years together and still no proposal. I let out an aggravated sigh.

“No, not yet,” I reply. “He wants to be more financially stable before he gets married and starts a family.”

“I don’t do relationships anymore. I can’t be bothered with all that shit.”

“So, you’re just single all the time? That sounds like it could get pretty lonely.”

“Single, maybe, but not lonely. I have a bunch of female friends who I hang out and party with. You know, friends with benefits. We hang out, have some fun, fuck for a while, and then they go home.”

I am entirely repulsed and move away from him, resuming my spot across the seat to glare at him. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit gross, Storm? Just screwing a bunch of girls?”

He shrugs at me. “No, not at all. They know where they stand. I don’t lead them on and let them think it might ever be something else. We have fun without all the bullshit. I travel a lot. When I’m in town, I call them up. We have some fun, and that’s it. I practice safe sex, so what’s the big deal?”

“It just seems so trashy to me, to have sex with no love or commitment.” I can’t even imagine a lifetime of nothing but a bunch of one-night stands.

He’s rolling his eyes at me. “Evelyn, there can be sex with no love. They don’t always go together, ya know.”

I scowl at him and pull the blanket further onto me. “Well, they should go together. Just screwing like a bunch of animals with no feelings sounds gross to me.”

He lights up a cigarette and stares at me for a few moments. I think I’ve insulted him just a bit. “Evelyn, love is an elusive thing. Not all people who say it, or claim to be in it, actually are. I think a lot of people get so wrapped up in other feelings, like being horny, wanting a relationship, being in lust, and all that shit, that they just label those feelings as love.”

He blows a ring of smoke across the truck. “But true love? The kind of love where you would just die for that person? Where you’d do anything just to be with them? I don’t really think many people have that. I know my parents do. I know my grandparents did. But I’ve yet to find that. So, yeah, I just fuck the chicks I can tolerate for a few hours.” He opens the truck door just a bit to flick out some ashes. “Let me ask you something, Evie. Do you really, really love Michael? Or are you guys just in one of those habit relationships? You’ve been together so fucking long, you don’t even know how you feel anymore because he’s basically become like an old piece of furniture you’ve had forever. You’re afraid to try something new because he feels safe. Feeling safe doesn’t mean love.”

Boom.

Maybe he’s right on a few points there, but I’m not going to admit it to him. The spark flew out of mine and Michael’s relationship quite a while ago, but that’s normal in a long relationship, right? We still have fun. We still have sex. Yes, he’s busy and distracted a lot, but I know he loves me and I love him.

Storm is smirking at me as I justify my relationship to myself. “You’re thinking about what I said . . . wondering if it’s true. Is it real love, or is it just a comfortable rut?”

“You’re an asshole. I love Michael and he loves me. We’ve been together for twelve years. Just because you’re not capable of loving and caring about someone doesn’t mean other people aren’t. I feel sorry for you. You’re going to spend your life being lonely and probably end up with an STD on top of it.”

“So, what does he do to show you he loves you? I’m just curious how you people on the other side live.” He opens the truck door again, letting a gust of air in for a second time, tosses his cigarette out and turns to me giving me his full attention.

So, no lie, my mind goes blank. I’m flipping through my brain like a maniac. “He bought me a GPS for my trip here so I wouldn’t get lost,” I finally point out.

Storm starts to crack up. Like, right in my face, he is doubled-over laughing. I glare daggers at him until he stops.

“Seriously? He bought you a little forty-dollar GPS system, which obviously didn’t work since you got pretty lost. But you think buying an electronic device for someone is love?”

“It’s care. He bought it because he cares about me. He knows I’m afraid of getting lost.”

“Holy shit, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you, but that’s legit hilarious. If he cares so much, why didn’t he just drive you up here himself?”

Okay. So I did ask Michael to drive me to the hotel and then come back Sunday to pick me up. He had no plans other than to just hang around and watch TV. He said he didn’t feel like it, then ran to the nearest store and came back with the stupid GPS. I hate driving and have a fear of getting lost and having a panic attack in the car, but he just brushed it all off and told me I was immature.

I feel defeated. “He said he didn’t feel like it,” I admit. “He wanted to watch TV and hang out on the couch.”

“I might be an asshole, but I know this. If I loved someone, I’d drive them a measly fucking hour or so to a meeting if they asked me to. If I didn’t love them or like them much? Then no, I’d be just like Michael and plant my ass in front of the TV and forget about it.”

“He’s tired. He works a lot. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Even I can hear the defensive tone in my voice.

Storm nods slowly. “Okay, I get it. That makes sense.”

This guy is a jerk. He has no right to judge me, or my relationship. People don’t stay together for twelve damn years if they don’t love each other. He just can’t understand it because he’s never experienced it. I feel sorry for him. The longest relationship he’s ever had is with his dog.

“Maybe we should try to just get some sleep.” His suggestion sounds great to me. Sleep means no more of his comments and judgment.

“Good idea,” I agree, leaning my head against the window, staring away from him so I don’t have to look at him sitting there watching me. We each pull the ends of the blanket up over ourselves and ignore each other. The cold is biting, but the blanket is extremely thick and heavy, trapping our body heat beneath it.

Hopefully, I won’t freeze to death in my sleep.

WHEN I WAKE UP, I AM disoriented for a few seconds as the memories of yesterday seep back into my mind. I slowly lift my head, my neck stiff from sleeping with my head leaning against the cold window. Rubbing at my sore neck, I glance over at Storm, who is sprawled out next to me with his foot on my lap. What the hell?

I push his foot and he starts to wake up. “Get your foot off me.”

I can already see he is not a morning person. He opens his eyes slowly and looks around, dazed.

“Huh? What’s going on?” He straightens out and looks over at me. “What are you doing?”

“Your foot was on me.”

“So the fuck what?”

“I’m not a footrest!”

“Jesus Christ, Evelyn. We’re cramped in a tiny space and I’m six-two. Excuse me for stretching out a little bit.”

“Well, don’t do it on me.”

I twist my neck around, trying to ease my sore muscles. “This sucks. My neck is killing me.”

“Mine, too. It sucks even more waking up to a bitch.” He stretches his arms out, just missing my face. “My whole body hurts.”

Niko is now also awake and looks back at us, whimpering and circling on the front seat, then stops and stares at Storm expectantly.

“He has to eat and go outside. I’m going to have to take him out there. I have a shovel in the back of the truck. I’m going to clear the snow off the truck, too. We can’t sit here with a foot of snow on top of us.”

I nod at him, then realize I also have to go to the bathroom. This is not good at all. There has to be over a foot of snow on the ground by now. And I’m still wearing these awful shoes.

“Um, Storm? I have to go to the bathroom, too.” This is so incredibly awkward. I just want to disappear.

“Well, damn. That’s a problem.” He runs his hand through his hair and chews on his lip. “Okay, lemme do this. I’m gonna take Niko out and shovel the truck off. Then I’m going to shovel a path a few feet away with a little area you can stand in. I’m going to have to carry you. Again.”

“I seriously can’t believe this.”

“Well, that’s all we can do. Our options are a little limited. I have some napkins up front.”

I am sure my face is a million shades of red. “Fine. Thanks. Be careful out there, okay?” The last thing we need is for him to fall and get hurt.

He pulls on his coat in the cramped space and nods at me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you.”

While Storm and Niko are outside, I try to mentally get my shit together. I’ve never even been camping. Taking a pee outside in a snowstorm is not something I ever thought I’d be doing. My friend Amy is going to laugh her ass off when I tell her about this.

From the newly cleared window, I watch Storm roll up some snow and throw it for Niko, and he bounds after it, biting the snowball then racing back to Storm. I can’t help but smile. I can see the love between them. Storm is laughing and rubbing Niko’s head, the dog’s tail wagging excitedly, anticipating another snowball to chase.

After he shovels off the rest of the truck and makes a little path, he opens the door. “Okay, sweet cheeks. Let’s do this.”

“Storm, this is really humiliating. I really don’t want to be carried outside to pee.”

“Okay, I get that, I really do. Let’s just get it over with. The snow is coming down pretty fast again, and the path I made is gonna get covered up. I’m just gonna carry you over there, stick you on the ground, and then come back for you, okay? No big deal.”

So let’s just say being carried around by a guy, then standing in the snow freezing your ass off while taking a pee outside is pretty much the most embarrassing thing ever.

When we get back to the truck, Storm rummages around in the back where he has one of those big metal toolbox things. Only I guess, instead of tools, his is mostly filled with groceries. His arms are loaded with stuff when he climbs back in, dropping it all on the seat between us. Bottled water, which is half-frozen, potato chips, granola bars, cookies, crackers, and cheese. We take turns feeding big dog biscuits to Niko, and I watch in awe when Storm takes one of the water bottles and gently tips it into Niko’s mouth and the dog actually drinks it.

“Wow. Now that’s pretty cool. How’d you teach him that?”

Storm is all smiles, beaming over his cool dog. “We travel a lot and sometimes I forget his bowl. So we improvise.”

I eat three granola bars and sip some water, which finally melted when I pretty much sat on the bottle. I’m actually afraid to eat too much because I’m afraid of having to pee—or even worse, number two—out in the damn snow. I shudder at the mere thought of it.

“I brought all the drinks in here so they’ll thaw out. I have orange juice, too. Want one of those?”

I shake my head. “Let’s have that tomorrow for breakfast, if we’re still here. You don’t happen to have any coffee back there, do ya?”

He grins and stuffs a cookie in his mouth. “See? I knew you were one of those latte drinkers! I had you pegged right from the start.”

“Okay, so that’s my one addiction. I love white mochas. I have one every single day, and I am completely jonesing for one.”

“I can’t get on the coffee train. I drink juice or water.”

“Do you work out?”

He quirks his eyebrow up at me and gives me that wicked crooked grin. “You’ve been checking me out?”

I roll my eyes. “Dream on. I could feel the muscles through your jacket, and I can see how big your arms and shoulders are just with that sweater you’ve got on.”

“Yes, I work out when I have time. I use my hands a lot for work, and I lift a lot of heavy shit.”

“How many tattoos do you have?”

Again, I get the sexy smirk of a grin. “You have been checking me out.” He takes a sip of water. “It’s okay, baby. I know I’m irresistible.”

“Really? Are you always so into yourself? Trust me, I’m not one of those chicks who’s gonna jump into bed with you for a hot one-nighter.”

“I know. That’s why I like you. And I have a shitload of tattoos, to answer your question. Wanna see?”

“No—” But before I can even get the word out, he’s pulling his sweater off, and yeah, he’s covered in tattoos. His arms are fully sleeved and his chest, sides and back are also covered in artwork. I try to take it all in: crosses, castles, words, faces. I even see one of Niko. And beneath all that, is dark, muscled skin. And I mean big, sculpted arms, broad chest and pecs, and a hard six-pack. The guy is ripped. I have to look away. “Okay, Storm. Put your shirt on. I’ve seen all your tattoos and they’re beautiful.”

“Did you see my muscles, too?” I watch him pull his sweater back on and can’t help but laugh at him. He’s just so strange.

“Yes, I saw your muscles. Happy now?”

“Yes. I work hard to look like this. A little appreciation would be nice.”

“Storm, I have no interest in appreciating your body. Can we please talk about a little more normal things, like when the hell do you think we’re going to get out of here?”

“Hopefully, soon. I brought you something.” He tosses a black sweatshirt at me. “I figured this would be warmer and more comfortable than the blouse you’re wearing.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” He’s right. The blouse I’m wearing is useless, so a nice, big, cozy sweatshirt would be much more comfortable. “Turn around so I can put it on.”

“Hey, you got to see me shirtless.” He’s lucky that in the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve figured out he is pretty harmless. But obviously a wicked, sarcastic flirt who is used to getting attention. My glare is enough to get him to turn away while I quickly change. The sweatshirt is huge, like three sizes too big, but it’s really soft and will definitely keep me warm. There’s a big emblem across the front of it that looks like a scrolling A and E.

“What’s the logo?” I ask him.

“It’s a rock band. Ashes and Embers.”

“I’ve never heard of them. Are they one of those bands that just scream and you can’t even hear the words? I hate that crap.”

His laughter fills the truck. “Yeah, I guess they do scream. But at least the shirt is nice, right?”

“Yes, it’s very comfy and warm. Thank you.”

I pick up all the wrappers from the food we ate and put them back into the plastic bag, setting it on the floor. I’m really starting to worry about how long we’re going to be stuck in here. Having the food definitely makes me feel better, but seriously, how long can we stay here? Michael must be worried sick by now. I’m sure he must have called the hotel and realized I never showed up, so he must be looking for me. But according to Storm, I wasn’t even near the hotel, so how would he know where to look?

“Evie, I can see your little mind is going over there. Stop it.”

“I’m worried. No one knows where I am.”

“You’re fine. I think the snow should stop tonight, and then tomorrow at some point the plow trucks will come by, and I’ll get us out of here, okay? Just trust me.” He pulls out his cell phone and after pressing a few buttons, music starts to play. “Hey, so no connection, but the music I have saved on it will play. Until the battery dies, anyway.”

Soft acoustic guitar music fills the truck, and I find it calming. Outside, the snow is coming down, but it’s slow now, as if it’s falling in slow motion. The passenger side windows are not covered yet, so the snow must be falling at an angle from the wind. All the trees and their branches are covered in white, so everything appears to be made of crystal. I’ve always loved how trees look the morning after a snowstorm, like a winter wonderland. I love the quiet after a snowstorm, too, as if the world went into a whisper.

“What are you thinking about now?”

“I feel like we’re in a snow globe. When I was little, my mom gave me one. I loved it so much I kept it next to my bed all year round. I just loved to watch the snow fall. The snow is peaceful, don’t you think?”

“I do. That’s why I was coming up here, to spend a few days at my cabin. I wanted to veg and watch movies while it snowed and just enjoy some friggin’ quiet time alone with Niko laying on my damn feet.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your plans, Storm.”

“You didn’t. Anyway, at least you make me laugh, which I haven’t done in a while. You’re all feisty and snarky, but kind of sweet and innocent, too. It’s an interesting mix. Not like most chicks I know.”

“Thanks. I think?” I smile over at him and squirm in the seat. My legs are falling asleep. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable he must be with his long legs.

“Your legs hurt, too, Evie?”

“Yeah. It’s like constant pins and needles.”

He motions at me with his hand. “Come here.”

“What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.

“Lay against my chest like you did yesterday, and then we can both stretch our legs out. More you than me, since you’re like a frickin’ midget, but maybe we can at least be comfortable for a few minutes.”

Oh, no. No. No. No. I can’t snuggle with him all up in this backseat. Especially after seeing him with no shirt on. I’m not sure what it is, but he has some kind of strange, sensual magnetism about him. I can feel it bouncing off him like little Ping-Pong balls.

He hones in on my hesitation.

“Evelyn, come on. Don’t be all uptight and shit. I’m not going to maul you. I just think we need to be a little bit comfortable.”

I know I will regret this, but I move closer to him. He has one leg bent up, resting against the seat, so I lean back against his chest between his legs, stretching out across the bench seat. He extends his other leg across the floor in front of the seat.

“Better?” he asks, all pleased with himself.

“I suppose,” I tease. “At least my legs seem to have circulation again.” I pull the blanket up around us.

We listen to the music coming out of his phone for a while. The snow has completely covered the windshield and door windows, giving the interior of the truck a strange dim glow, which I try to think of as cozy and not suffocating.

“Storm . . . how did you know what to do yesterday? When I had a panic attack?”

He sighs, the movement of his chest pushing my body up. “My little sister used to have these really bad night terrors, and that’s what my parents did to calm her down and get her head focused again. It worked for her, so I thought it was probably similar.”

Hmm. When I was younger, I went through years of therapy and that kind of solution was never mentioned. Instead, I had to sit and tell various shrinks about my feelings while they tried to figure out what kind of abuse must have happened to me to cause the panic attacks. And, of course, they never figured it out. Oh, and I tried pretty much every pill on the market for anxiety, too, which only caused me to either gain weight, go completely mentally numb, or both. No, thanks.

“How old is your sister now?”

“Uh . . . she’s nineteen.”

“How old are you?”

“Are we playing twenty questions?”

“Yes! I’m bored. Just go with it.”

“How old do you think I am?”

I slap the hand he has resting on my stomach. “You can’t answer a question with a question! You have to wait your turn.”

He grabs my hand and holds onto it. “I’m thirty. Now, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

He lets out a whistle. “So, you started dating your boyfriend when you were fourteen?”

“Yup.”

“That’s really frickin’ crazy.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s called commitment.”

His hand is big and warm as he slowly intertwines my fingers with his, the warmth flowing from him into me. I don’t pull away, inviting him to slowly rub his thumb along the top of mine. I feel tingly, and it’s probably wrong for us to be holding hands, but I don’t care right now. The warmth feels too good to let go.

“Is he the only guy you’ve ever been with?”

What? Did he seriously just ask me that?

“That’s a really rude question, Storm.”

“Why? It’s not rude. I’m just curious.”

“It’s very personal.”

“I’m going to take all this to mean the answer is yes, you’ve only fucked him.”

“So what? I’m not a slut. I don’t want to be sleeping with all sorts of men. I’ve never wanted that.”

“Don’t you ever just wonder what it would be like to be with another man? What it would feel like?”

“A dick is a dick. I really don’t have a need for variety. It’s not what I’m into.”

“Variety is good sometimes, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Maybe for you, Storm, but I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I don’t say so, I know so.”

“You don’t have to get all defensive. I’m not judging you, really.”

He shifts beneath me a bit and leans his head against mine. Being so close to him feels both strange and exhilarating. Part of me wants to get as far away from him as possible, but then, a seemingly bigger part of me wants to stay right where I am, enveloped in the warmth of him, and keep the strange tingling that’s running through my body. It’s a welcome distraction right now, instead of the fear that keeps creeping up on me. I slowly glide my fingers up and down his, my small fingers sliding between his large ones, then slowly over the back of his hand.

His face is bent down beside mine, his mouth near my ear. “No one’s ever touched my hand like that before.” His voice is soft and raspy, just slightly above a whisper. I freeze, not moving, barely breathing. Shit. What am I doing?

“Don’t stop. Please.” His grip on my hand tightens a little, not wanting me to pull away, which I am definitely thinking of doing. Our hands begin a dance of silent caressing, our fingers tangling, traveling slowly up and down the length of each other’s—and honestly, I’ve never felt anything so sensual in my life.

I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

He moves his leg slightly and my body moves with him. That’s when I feel his cock pressing against my ass. A tiny gasp escapes me, and I still completely for a moment, but he gently pushes against me, his head still bent down against mine, brushing his nose lightly against my ear. He feels huge and hard against me, and I can’t stop myself from arching back slightly and rubbing against him. The faint, erotic groan that comes from this massive, muscular stranger behind me ignites something in me I don’t even recognize.

His left hand moves slowly down my side and rests on my hip, gently pulling me against him as he grinds slowly against me. I can’t lie; he feels incredible even through his jeans. I close my eyes and lean back further, my head resting on his right shoulder, the side of his face still buried in my hair. Our right hands are still clasped together, and he slowly guides our hands down between my legs to gently rub against my sex through the thin material of my slacks. Holy damn shit. A surge of a thousand tiny lightning bolts races through my body.

He slowly moves his hand away from mine. “Touch yourself,” he whispers in my ear as he rests his right hand on my other hip, slowly pulling me back against his cock to meet his subtle thrusts against me. I am so turned on I feel delirious and dizzy. Unbuttoning my slacks, I pull the zipper down and slide my hand under my black panties. I rub my clit in slow circles while arching my back against him, pressing his hard cock further against my ass. My mind goes blank as we grind against each other, my finger lost in the wet folds of my sex. His lips touch my ear, brushing a kiss on the outer shell, his breath becoming more ragged. I have never touched myself in front of someone before, but knowing he’s watching actually turns me on rather than humiliates me.

“Come for me, Evie.”

His words send me over the edge, and within seconds, my entire body is shaking and quivering as I explode into orgasm. My free hand digs into his taut, muscular leg as I arch back further against him, wanting to feel more of him. He moves his hand back over mine and cups both of our hands over my wet mound as he grinds harder, his cock wedged between my ass cheeks. I push my body slowly up and down his just a tiny bit, feeling the length of him. He finally shudders beneath me, his hands gripping me tighter, his breath hot and heavy against my ear.

We sit in silence in the dark, panting against each other. I have no idea what the hell just happened; I feel like I am slowly coming out of a trance. I try to sit up, but he pulls me back against him, his arm possessively across my chest.

“No.” His voice is still raspy and it’s sexy as hell. “Don’t move yet. Stay with me like this.”

As I come down from my orgasmic stupor, I am utterly ashamed of myself. How could I have done such a thing? It all happened so fast. Shit. I just dry-humped a random stranger’s dick with my ass. I really need to get out of this truck fast, away from this guy before he completely undoes me. I have never touched another man. There has only been Michael, in every way.

I feel completely sick to my stomach. Pushing his arm off me, I sit up, disentangling myself from him as if he’s an octopus on fire, and move across the seat. My fingers fumble as I button up my pants, and I avoid his intense gaze, which I feel burning into me.

“Well, that was one way to keep you quiet and non-sarcastic,” he finally says with a small laugh.

“You’re a dick.”

“Ah, there’s my girl. I knew you’d come back.”

“This isn’t funny, Storm. I just cheated on my boyfriend.”

“I would not call that cheating. At all.”

I look at him like he’s nuts. “What? Are you crazy? Of course it was.”

“I didn’t touch your tits or your pussy. We didn’t even fucking kiss.”

“Oh, so those are the body parts that constitute cheating? What about mental cheating?”

“Mental cheating?” he repeats. “Okay . . . I wasn’t even thinking about you while we did that. I was thinking about pizza.”

“Pizza?” I repeat, annoyed.

“Hey, I’m trying to make you feel better here. If you were thinking about fucking me while we did that and I was thinking about pizza, then it’s not cheating. It takes two to cheat. See? Problem solved. No cheating happened.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore, Storm. Just leave me alone, please.”

He pulls out his cigarettes. There is a big wet spot on the front of his jeans that I try really hard not to look at. “We’re stuck in, like, a six-foot box, Evie. I’m pretty sure I can’t leave you alone, babe. But I am gonna take the dog out, grab a smoke and try to regroup a little. I’ll bring some more food in, too.”

Relief comes as soon as he’s out of the truck. His presence is so overpowering to me. It’s as if he seeps into my mind and skin. He both creeps me out and fascinates me, like a strange human train wreck I want to get away from, but also want to peek at, take a taste of. It’s unnerving.

I’VE NEVER BEEN AFRAID OF SILENCE or felt uncomfortable in the quiet. I’ve never been the type who needs to speak or ramble incessantly just to fill the dead air. I’m okay with my own company. It’s so quiet now, both inside the truck and outside. There is literally no sound. No cars driving by, no airplanes flying overhead, no phones ringing, no birds chirping in the woods. I close my eyes for a moment and just listen to the nothingness. Sometimes, like now, I can control my panic and steer it away, turn it into a feeling of fascination rather than fear. The intense silence has the potential to be petrifying and set me off, but at the same time, the quiet feels incredibly beautiful and peaceful. How often does a person really get to experience total silence?

Niko is curled up on the front seat, deep in a doggy nap. I’ve gotten used to him in the short time we’ve been trapped together. He’s a beautiful dog, all gray, tan and white with a black mask around his blue eyes. I’m no dog expert, but I think he’s part husky or malamute or something like that.

My gaze wanders over to his master. Sasquatch is also napping, inked arms crossed over his broad chest. The blanket is stretched out between us, covering us both. Even though he’s about two feet away, I can still feel his body heat wrapped around me. His dark hair is falling over his forehead, covering one of his eyes. I fight the urge to reach across the truck to gently brush it away from his face and feel the silkiness of it between my fingers. It’s sinful how beautiful and shiny his hair is. What a waste to have that on a man! I wonder what kind of conditioner he uses. Probably some kind of hot oil, which smells like coconut.

One of his eyes pops open and stares right at me. “What are you looking at?”

“How did you know I was looking at you?” How embarrassing to be caught staring at a person while they’re sleeping.

“I could feel it.”

“I was looking at your hair, if you must know.”

He sits up and cracks his neck to the side. “My hair? You are so friggin’ weird, ya know that?”

“I was just thinking it looks really soft and shiny. Maybe it’s a wig?” Ha. Now, wouldn’t that be funny?

“A wig? I don’t think so.” He takes a sip from his water bottle then looks back over at me. “When you’re running your fingers through it, screaming my name, you’ll know it’s real, baby.”

“Dude, that will never happen. Like ever.” I have never met anyone so arrogant in my life. Does he really think women are just so taken with him that they will just throw themselves all over him?

“Wanna bet?” he dares.

“No, I don’t want to bet. You’re sick and twisted, and obviously, completely in love with yourself.”

“Well, someone’s gotta be.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“What? You don’t think I’m lovable?” he asks.

“No, not really, but I really don’t know you, so I can’t answer that question.”

“Niko loves me.” Niko’s ear quirks in our direction at the mention of his name, but he doesn’t lift his head, which rests on his paws.

“Yeah, I’m sure he does because you feed him,” I point out, grinning.

Storm looks disturbed by this statement. “You think your cat loves you, Evelyn?”

“I know he does. He sleeps with me every night, and he follows me around and does rubbies all over my legs.”

Storm pats Niko on the head and the dog’s big, fuzzy tail starts to wag erratically. “I know he loves me. He’s my best friend. I saved his life.”

“Did you really?” I inquire, interested to hear more about how he did that exactly.

He nods, still caressing Niko’s ears.

“Will you tell me about it?” Any story would be good right now. Time is dragging in this truck, and I am legit losing my mind without any television or internet. There are so many Facebook statuses I could have made during this ordeal—they’d get like ninety-nine likes each.

“I’ll tell you, but only if you hold my hand again while I tell you.”

“What? I don’t think so.”

Grabbing my hand tightly in his, he pleads with his sexy green eyes. “Come on. I like how it feels. I’ll behave myself. I promise.”

Even though he’s an annoying ass, he is kind of cute, so I have to grin at him for his efforts. “Is that even possible?” I tease. “For you to behave?”

He winks at me. “I guess we’ll find out.”

I sigh and give in to him. “Fine. But only because I’m bored, and I want to hear how you saved Niko’s life.”

“Someday, I’m going to tell our kids how I saved your life after you crashed your car off the side of the road because you couldn’t even listen to the GPS.”

“I think not. And the GPS is useless. It sent me in the wrong direction. Now, tell me about how you saved the dog.”

“All right. So, a few years ago, I used to drive by this garage all the time. It was an old, junky place just piled with, like, old cars and shit. And one day, I noticed this puppy tied up outside, and I thought he was cute because he was really fuzzy and had these crazy huge paws.”

I slowly rub his hand and make little circles on his palm with my finger while he talks.

“So, a few weeks go by, and of course the pup is growing and getting bigger and taller. And then a few more weeks go by, and now it’s like the middle of the summer and hot as hell, and this poor dog is just tied up to a fence on the side of the building with no shade or anything, and I don’t even see a water dish or food. So, I park my car and check on him, and he’s all happy to have someone pet him, tail wagging like mad. There was an old food dish off to the side, but it was empty, and a dish with some dirty water. He didn’t have any toys or bones or anything. It was late, so the guy who owned the place wasn’t there. I drove over to the pet place and bought the little guy some new dishes and some toys and a few bones. I went back and gave him some water and he drank three fucking bowls, and then he woofed down two bowls of food. I felt really bad leaving him. I just had this bad gut feeling, ya know?”

He pulls a pack of gum out of his pocket and unwraps a piece with one hand as he talks. I can see talking about this upsets him, so I give his hand a gentle comforting squeeze.

He pops the gum into his mouth and offers me some. “No thanks,” I answer, waiting to hear the rest of the story.

“Anyway, I had to go out of town after I gave the pup the stuff, and I was gone for like three months. To be honest, I kind of forgot about him. But then, I had to go over to that part of town again, and I drove by him. Evie, it was awful.” His voice cracks a little and my heart clenches. “I honestly think the last time he ate was the food I’d given him. He was nothing but skin and bones; too weak to even stand up. I could see all of his little ribs, and he had ticks all stuck to him, just sucking the blood out of him. I got out of my car and ran over to him, and at first, I thought he was dead. He was just lying there in the dirt with flies buzzing all around him. But when I kneeled down in front of him, his little tail wagged a tiny bit. I think he remembered me.”

Tears spring into my eyes at the thought of someone mistreating a puppy so badly. “My God, Storm, what happened?” He looks at me for a moment, a single tear sliding down his cheek, and it grips at my heart to see this big, muscular guy crying over a puppy.

“An old man came out of the little building and started yelling at me to get off his property. And I got up in his face and yelled, ‘What the fuck did you do to this puppy? He’s dying out here!’ and he was like, ‘Mind your own business, you fucking punk, and get off my property.’ There was just no fucking way I was going to leave him there. So I pulled a wad of cash out of my pocket and I threw it at this scumbag, and I said ‘I just bought this dog, and I’m taking him out of here. If I ever fucking see you again, or see another dog here, I will fucking kill you.’ The douchebag picked up the money and ran off with it.

“I scooped the pup up and took him to one of those emergency vet places. He had to stay there for a month before I could finally bring him home. He was dehydrated and almost starved to death, had two ear infections, worms—you name it. I visited him every single day, and we’ve been together ever since.” Niko looks up as if he knows he’s being talked about. “Right, buddy?” Storm says to him. I swear Niko’s mouth curls up into a little doggy smile.

“Wow . . . Storm, that’s an amazing story. You really did save his life. That’s incredible.”

“Now he’s spoiled rotten, just like he should be.”

“He’s beautiful, and so lucky you found him, really. I guess you’re not so bad, after all.”

“I have my good points.”

The man throws me a smile that could melt a glacier. Damn. I let go of his hand and break my gaze from his. “Can you toss me the crackers?” I ask, trying to divert my attention from his smile and the effect it’s having on me.

“I’m hungry.”

Reaching into the bag, he pulls out the box of crackers and hands them to me. “Why do you do that?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“You look away from me when I look at you.”

Ugh. Can he not just leave me alone instead of zoning in on all of my insecurities?

I swallow my mouthful of cracker. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize I did it.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No . . . not anymore. When we first met, I thought you were pretty scary, but now that I know you a little bit, no.”

He laughs. “You were pretty scared when I banged on your window. You jumped about a foot.”

“Ha ha.” I throw a cracker at him. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out there.”

“Are you afraid I’m going to see you? If you let me look at you?”

“Um? What does that mean? What do you see when you look at me?” So, yeah, this is one of those times when you ask someone to tell you something and even though you really, really want to hear the answer, you’re afraid to hear it, too. Because it might be bad. Or it might be really good. But usually, it’s bad.

He’s staring at me with his head tilted, his hair falling across his face. “I see a cute, engaging woman who lives in fear.”

“Fear? What the hell, Storm. Fear of what?”

“Hey, calm down. I think you’re afraid of intimacy, of letting yourself feel. I think you hide in things that are comfortable to you, like Michael.”

“Are you kidding me? And you think you know all this about me after spending a day and a half with me in the backseat of a truck?” My voice is loud. Way too loud for the small area we’re sitting in. But who the hell does he think he is? He doesn’t know me. At all. “And I’m not hiding in Michael, dumbass.” Hiding! What does that even mean? “What are you hiding, Storm? Wearing goddamn eyeliner?”

He nods slowly at me. “Touché,” he says.

We’re quiet for a few moments, and I feel bad for yelling at him and making fun of his guyliner. I tend to do that when I get mad, lash out at people and make them feel bad. Then I feel terrible afterward. Usually.

“Storm, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay. Evie, it’s just you and me in here. You can let your walls down a little bit. It’s pretty obvious I struck a nerve.”

“To be honest, I’m not used to talking about my feelings. Michael and I don’t really do that, I guess. I don’t think he sees me, as you put it, but I don’t think many people really see each other at all. We see what we want to see, and we show what we want to show. That’s just life.”

“You’re right. And I’m like that, too. I don’t usually get all involved with people, but we’re in a unique situation here, ya know? Like, the normal rules and shit don’t apply. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know . . .”

He slips his hand into mine again. I feel like somehow handholding has become our thing. How odd is that?

“Evie, what happened earlier . . . with us . . . I gotta tell ya, that was, like, incredible. It was just so fucking raw and real, so intimate, ya know? Sexless sex. It was like, whoa.”

I’m sure I’m about as red as a lobster right now. I was not expecting him to bring that up, like ever. I want to push it as far away from my mind as possible.

“Storm, no. That was a betrayal. Don’t you get that? I don’t do things like that, and it makes me sick that I did.”

He makes a face like I slapped him. “Sick? I make you sick?”

“Not you, what I did.”

“Because you let yourself feel something and you went with it?”

“Yes! It’s wrong, Storm. It’s cheating. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting, Evie. We both felt something, and we let it happen. It felt pretty deep, to me. And for me, that’s saying a lot. Did you feel it, too?”

I felt a lot of things besides his huge cock rammed against me. I remember how just having our hands touch sent all sorts of shivery tingles throughout my entire body, and feeling like my heart stopped when his lips brushed against my ear. I felt like a different person, someone I didn’t even know, when he told me to touch myself, and I actually did it. And I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

“Storm, I felt . . . something, but that’s because I’m scared . . . and I’ve never been close to another man before. I know you do different sexual things with your life, but I don’t, and I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

He grins and nods at me. “Okay. It’s cool.”

My mind traces back into the conversation a little bit. He called me cute. Cute, engaging woman. I’ve been called cute my entire life. For once, I’d love to be called sexy. Or beautiful. I’m five-three with long, auburn hair, big blue eyes, not fat, but not thin either. I’ll bet he dates tall, blonde model-types with huge, fake boobs. He’d never call someone like that ‘cute’.

“What are you thinking about now?” he asks, chewing a cracker.

“What kind of girls do you usually date? Or fuck? Whatever you call it in your little world?”

“Hmm. . . . I don’t know if I really have a type, per se. But I guess mostly tall, sexy, big tits.”

“I figured.”

The snow is hopefully supposed to stop tonight or tomorrow. I can’t wait to get out of here, take a nice hot shower, sleep in a nice warm bed, eat some real food and see Michael and Halo. Storm thinks a plow truck will come by tomorrow at some point, and he plans to chase after it when he hears it. I’m a little bit nervous about that. What if the plow doesn’t come? According to Storm, not many people even drive on this road. The plow guy could put off doing this road for a day or two.

“Storm? Is anyone looking for you?”

He pushes his hair out of his face and stares at me. “Why would someone be looking for me?”

“Because you’re missing? Duh.”

“I’m not missing, Evie. I’m hiding.”

I turn in the seat to face him. “Hiding? What do you mean?”

“I told you. I was coming up to my cabin to get away from everyone. They all know not to bother me. They know I won’t answer my phone. So, no one knows I’m stranded in the snow.”

“What? Are you serious? We could die out here, Storm. What if the truck doesn’t come to plow?”

I burst into tears of panic before I can stop myself. He scoots over and puts his arm around me, placing his hand on my head, guiding me to rest on his shoulder. “Shh . . . it’s gonna be okay. I promise. You’re just tired, cold and a little stir-crazy. I promise I’ll get us out of here. Don’t cry.” He pulls my head up and wipes my tears away with his thumbs. Holy damn, his eyes are green like a cat. “Evelyn, I know it’s hard, but we have to keep our shit together, okay? I’ll get us out of here. Just trust me.”

I nod, mesmerized by his eyes. I can barely hear him speaking. “Your eyes are amazing,” I whisper.

He laughs and hands me a tissue. “Well, thanks. Are you okay? Don’t be having a fucking meltdown on me, all right?”

I blow my nose a little and wipe at my eyes. “I’m sorry. I just want to go home.”

“We’ll get you home soon. I’m sure your family and Michael are missing you a lot. And your cat.”

I blink back the tears and shake my head at him. “I don’t have any family. My parents passed away when I was younger. I just have Michael and Halo.”

“All right, baby. I get it.” He keeps his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder again. I soon fall asleep, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

I’M WALKING THROUGH THE SNOW. EVERYTHING is so bright, it’s almost blinding. Up ahead on the trail, I can see Niko bouncing around in the snow. Every now and then, he stops, turns to look at me, comes back to lick my hand, then runs ahead of me again. Flurries are falling softly. I turn my face up and open my mouth to catch some on my tongue. Suddenly, a red cardinal flies by my head and lands on a tree branch just a few feet away from me. He is gorgeous, so scarlet red against the snow. As I’m admiring her, another swoops in and perches next to her. A beautiful little couple, so bright and vivid.

“Evelyn . . . wake up.” I’m being shaken. Slowly opening my eyes, I find I’m lying against Storm, still in the back of the truck.

“I was dreaming of red cardinals in the snow. And Niko was there,” I say groggily.

“Really? Was the tin man there, too?”

I sit up and scowl at him. “Very funny.”

“Okay, look. I’m gonna clean off the truck and make a little path for you to pee, then we’re gonna eat some breakfast, and then we have to listen for the plow truck.”

“Did the snow stop?” Finally, a glimmer of hope.

“I think so. When I went outside last night, it was pretty much done.”

“Thank God! I just want to get out of here.”

“You and me both, baby.”

While Storm is outside cleaning the truck off for the hundredth time, I pick up the wrappers from what we ate earlier and put them in the plastic bag we’ve been using for garbage. I have this thing for throwing stuff away immediately. I’m petrified of bugs. Even at home, I have to clean up dinner right away. It completely drives Michael insane because he’s a bit of a slob.

I want to get home so badly. I wonder what my boss is going to say about me not making the meeting. Hopefully, he’ll have some compassion for me being stuck in a ditch with Sasquatch for an entire weekend, eating granola bars and potato chips. I hope he doesn’t expect me to come into the office right away. I’m thinking I’m going to need a day or two at home to catch up on some real sleep and just de-stress. Maybe some sick days or personal days will cover that.

I can’t wait to call Amy and tell her about this excursion. She’ll want to hear a total play-by-play, and I know she’ll make fun of me because weird stuff is always happening to me and she thinks it’s hilarious.

The door opens and Storm comes in with a huge grin on his face. “The snow has finally stopped. Thank fuck! Now we have to listen carefully, okay? So keep your chatter down.”

“Excuse me? My chatter? What does that mean?”

He makes a gesture with his thumb and forefinger like a yapping bird. “Like this, you go.”

“Screw you, Storm. I don’t chatter.”

He puts his hand down. “Evelyn, I’m kidding. I like your chatter. It’s cute.”

Again with the cute. I want to kick him in the face with my non-snow-friendly shoes. I don’t want to be cute.

We wait. The windows of the truck are completely clear now and we can see outside. Of course, all we can see are trees and snow, but it’s nice to be able to actually see the outside world. I wonder if my car is completely buried and if it will ever run right again. Now seems like a good time for me to approach the subject of a new car with Michael once more. He shot the idea down last time, but I think now I’ll have a better chance.

“Do you think my car will run again? If it’s been out in the snow like this?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have it towed out and taken to the garage in town. My buddy owns the place. He’ll take good care of it, and he’ll be honest about how screwed up it is.”

“Well, I want a new car, so I was thinking maybe now that it’s been buried in snow, I can convince Michael to let me get one.”

“You’re chattering. And why do you need permission to get a new car, exactly? I thought you were an adult with a job.”

“I’m not chattering and I do have a job. But Michael makes all the financial decisions.”

“Are you shittin’ me? You’re not married. Do whatever the hell you want.”

“It doesn’t work that way when you live together, Storm. Couples share things and make decisions together.”

“You just said Michael makes the decisions. That doesn’t sound like ‘together’ to me. It sounds like you need his permission. And you’re chattering again.”

I cross my arms and pout at him. Damn him! He’s right. Why do I need Michael’s permission to get a new car?

We wait some more, and I start to doze off until Storm shoves me awake again. “I think I heard a truck.”

“You think?”

“I’m going to walk up to the road, check things out. I’m going to leave Niko here with you.”

“What? Why?” I sit up straight, fully awake now. “Why are you leaving him here with me?”

“I don’t want you here alone. I may be gone for a while. I want him to sit back here with you and keep you warm.”

I shake my head. I don’t mind the dog at all anymore, but I don’t like the thought of being left here alone. “Storm, what if something happens to you?”

“I’ll be fine. I have to go out there and see if that’s the truck. Don’t worry, okay?” He leans over and ruffles my hair. “I’ll be back and we’ll be outta here. Call Niko back here when I leave, okay? Promise me.”

I nod nervously. I don’t want him to go. “I promise.”

And with that, he’s gone.

I watch him walk out into the white and up the hill until I can’t see him anymore. I stare at the space where he disappeared for a few moments then turn to the dog in the front seat.

“Niko. Come here.” I pat the space next to me. The fluff monster stares at me for a few minutes like he’s not sure if he should or not. “Come on.” I raise my voice a bit to sound happier, and that does it. He wags his tail and leaps into the back seat, snuggling up right against me. This animal is immense. He must be over a hundred pounds. I gently stroke his head and he lays it on my leg. To think of someone abusing this beautiful dog and starving him almost to death just sickens me.

I have no idea what time it is or how long Storm has been gone, but it seems like forever. Not having a watch or any way to tell time is a really disturbing feeling. This experience has really shown me how much I rely on technology.

Niko’s head suddenly pops up and his ears tweak around like little fuzzy antennas. Off in the distance, I can see Storm walking toward the truck. My hearts starts to race a bit. Please, let the plow truck be here! His boots and jeans are covered in snow up to his knees. The poor guy has to be freezing his butt off.

When he opens the door, he has a huge smile on his face. “See? I told ya I’d get us out of here.”

“The plow truck is here?” I’m so excited I want to bounce up and down.

“Sure as shit is, and it’s my buddy, John, driving it. He’ll take us to my cabin and plow my driveway, too.”

“Thank God!”

“So, here’s the deal. I’m going to have to carry your ass to the truck—”

“No! I’m sick of being carried around!”

“Evelyn, don’t even start or I will leave your ass here. I’m freezing, and I want to go home. So just shut up, no chattering, no debating. All right?”

I clamp my lips shut for a second. “Whatever. Fine. Let’s just go. And you’re nasty.”

“Good. And we’re going to have to leave our stuff here. I can’t carry you and all the crap, and there is no damn way I’m making another trip. I can barely feel my feet as it is. John is going to come back and get our stuff and bring it to us.”

“Okay.” I know there’s no sense in arguing about my things. All that matters is we’re getting out of here.

Storm has to carry me piggyback-style up to the road because of the deep snow and the incline of the hill. I’m not too thrilled about straddling his back like a koala bear, but he threatened to dump me into a snowdrift if I didn’t shut up. I am once again impressed at the strength of this man, how he can carry me on his back through the snow and up the hill. I’m pretty sure Michael wouldn’t be able to do it. And even if he could, I’m not sure he would, to be totally honest.

When we reach the plow truck waiting on the side of the road, Storm gently puts me down and stomps the snow off his legs and boots. He is completely soaked from the knees down, and I am worried about him getting sick. We all have to cram into the front seat of the plow truck, but right now, I don’t even care; all I can think about is that I’m one step closer to being home. John, the plow truck driver, is nice, telling us how lucky we are to be alive. It seems he and Storm know each other pretty well.

“Am I taking you both to Storm’s place, or do you want me to take you to that little hotel in town?” John asks. Hmm. That’s a question I hadn’t even thought about.

I feel Storm’s hand touch mine, between us on the seat. “I was thinking you could stay at my place for tonight. If my landline isn’t working, I’m sure John can call Michael for you when he gets back home, since he lives in civilization, and let him know you’re okay. Tomorrow, we can get your car towed into town and get that taken care of. If you go to the hotel, we don’t even know if they have any rooms. It’s a small mom and pop hotel, not a chain.”

Is he trying to tell me he wants me to stay with him? That’s the vibe I’m getting, and I have no idea what to do. He’s right about the hotel—there might not be any rooms available. Then I’m screwed. But staying with him at his place overnight? I’m not so sure that’s a great idea, especially after the ass-humping incident in the truck. He’s ignoring the look on my face, though, and just keeps talking.

“I’ll cook us dinner, you can take a hot shower, and I have a nice room you can have. Tomorrow, more of the roads should be cleared off. I’ll take you into town and you can call Michael and have him come pick you up.”

“Um, how are we going to get to town? Both of our cars are stuck.”

He flashes me his silly grin. “I have another truck at my place. It’s in the garage.”

“Yeah, Storm has a lot of cars,” John interjects, and I catch Storm giving him a dirty look.

I let out a big sigh. “All right. I’ll stay at your place then. Thank you.”

When Storm said he had a cabin in the woods, I was picturing a really small summer cabin where hunters hang out for the weekend. I was not expecting this modern log cabin with floor-to-ceiling windows, skylights, a three-car garage with beautiful angles surrounded by pine trees. I stare up at it and wonder how a guy who looks like Storm can afford a swanky place like this. It must be his parents’ place. After John plows the driveway and shovels a pathway for us to walk to the front door, he jumps back behind the wheel. “I’m going to get your stuff and bring it back. Gimme about an hour.”

I nod at him. “Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem at all. Storm and I go way back.”

I figure if things are weird with Storm when we get inside, then when John comes back with my stuff, I can always ask him for a ride to town, and I can just deal with the hotel crap once I get there.

Storm helps me out of the truck and I smack his hands away. “I can walk to the door myself, Storm. John did a great job shoveling.” I have had it with being carried around, and I damn sure did not want him carrying me into his house like newlyweds.

“Fine, but if you fall on your ass, I’m going to laugh at you.”

Whatever.

Niko obviously recognizes he’s home because he races us to the front door then sits there all impatient-like, lifting his front paws up and down, waiting for Storm to unlock the door.

“He loves it here,” Storm tells me. “We hang out here a lot to get away from everyone.”

I’m not sure exactly who Storm feels the need to hide from, but he’s mentioned it enough to pique my interest to make sure I find out.

STORM UNLOCKS THE DOOR AND WE go inside. And it’s freezing.

“I thought you had heat?” He flicks on the light, but I’m so worried about freezing all night again that I don’t even bother to look around. “It’s freezing in here.”

He throws his hands up. “Calm your shit. I haven’t been up here in months, and I don’t leave the heat on full-blast if I’m not here. I’ll turn it up now and light a fire. It’ll be warm in here in no time.” He disappears down the hallway—to turn the heat on, I presume.

I finally take in my surroundings. The place is gorgeous. It’s all open-concept with a large living room, a huge wraparound brown leather couch, a big stone fireplace, a dining room area, and a gorgeous state-of-the-art kitchen. The vaulted ceilings and skylights give the rooms so much depth. It’s definitely not a small place. In fact, it’s bigger than the condo Michael and I live in. I take a few steps further into the living room. A huge flat-screen TV is on the wall, surrounded by pieces of artwork. The decor is very earthy, with some Native American accents.

Storm reappears from the hallway and motions at me to move from the foyer area. “Evie, come in and sit. I’m going to light a fire.”

I sit on the couch and bend over to take my shoes off. “I am never, ever wearing these shoes again.”

Storm is kneeling in front of the fireplace, trying to get the fire started. “Good idea,” he says over his shoulder. “Give them to me and I’ll burn them.”

“Why don’t you have one of those fancy electric fireplaces?” I ask, rubbing my cold and sore feet.

The fire is now lit, orange flames dancing. He steps away and watches it for a few moments. “No way. There’s nothing like the smell of a real fire.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. This place is beautiful, Storm. Is it really yours?”

He spins on his heel to stare at me and runs his hand through his hair. “What? You don’t think someone who looks like me can have a nice place?”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that . . .”

But yeah. He looks like a construction worker. How much money could he make working on motorcycles, or whatever he does?

“Maybe I’m a trust fund baby, Evelyn. Did that possibility ever cross your little judgmental mind?”

“Actually, no. Sorry.”

Awkward.

He goes into the kitchen, and I hear him filling Niko’s bowl with food. I’m starving, too. I wonder if he’s still going to feed me even though I’ve insulted him. What I really want is a shower, though.

“Can I take a shower?” I call out to him, hoping he’s not mad at me.

“Yeah. Let me get you some clothes to wear.” He disappears back down the hallway and comes back a few minutes later with black sweatpants and a fleece hoodie with that same A&E swirly logo. “This stuff will be huge on you, but it’s all clean. The bathroom is the first door on the left. There are soaps and shampoos under the sink, and I think there’s a hair dryer in there, too. Oh, and there are some new toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet. Just take whatever you need.”

“Thank you. Are the phones working?”

“No, I tried the landline in the bedroom and it’s dead. It happens a lot up here. Write Michael’s number down and I’ll give it to John in case he comes while you’re in the shower.”

“Oh, good idea. Thanks.” I rummage in my purse and find a pen and a piece of paper, scribble Michael's number on it, and hand it to him.

“I’m going to make some dinner while you’re showering. You like pasta? It’s pretty much all I’ve got, since we either ate everything else already or it’s still in the truck.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.”

I almost scream when I reach the bathroom and see myself in the mirror. I look like a total mess. My makeup is smeared, my cheeks are red and blotchy, and my hair looks like a bat was stuck in it and flapped its wings for an hour. Holy hell, I can’t believe I was trapped in a truck with a man for two days looking so hideous. And what’s unfair is Storm’s hair and his damn guyliner looked perfect the entire time! Ugh!

Oh, and by the way, this bathroom is enormous. A huge corner glass shower with, like, ten showerheads and a big Jacuzzi tub in the other corner. I rummage around under the sink and find vanilla-scented body wash and some expensive shampoo. Apparently, Storm likes the finer things in life, which is odd for someone who builds motorcycles for a living. Of course, the chick in me has my radar up for any signs of female cohabitants, but I see no markers of female life in this bathroom. No lipstick, no stray tampons, no pink towels.

I take the longest, hottest shower ever and lather myself up with this luxurious body wash. The shampoo and conditioner smell heavenly. I’ve never been in a shower with so many showerheads, but it’s really amazing, like being rained on from all angles. I wonder why all showers aren’t designed this way.

After what feels like an embarrassingly long time to be in someone’s shower, I relent and get out. I wrap myself in a big, fluffy bath towel. Storm’s bathroom is like a five-star hotel.

My hair looks amazing after I dry it, and now I know his secret to fab hair—it’s from this hair product that has a French name I can’t even pronounce. If this actually were a hotel, I would so steal this stuff. It figures I’m having the best hair day I’ve ever had, and now I don’t even have any makeup because all my stuff is back in the truck. Unless John, the plow guy, came back, but I really don’t want to poke my head out there and ask for my bag. Grrrr. I grab my purse and pull out a tiny eyeliner I keep in there for emergency touch-ups and put on a bit of lip gloss. I don’t want to look like total death in front of Storm. Not that it matters, but I don’t want him to go from thinking I’m cute to scary.

A loud knocking on the door makes me jump as I’m pulling the hoodie over my head.

“Dinner’s ready. Are you coming out or what?” he calls through the door.

I open it, the remaining steam from the shower billowing around me. “It’s about time,” he says. “You weren’t in there treating my shower like a playground, were you?”

I smack him in the chest. “No, perv. It just felt good to be warm.”

I follow him down the hall to the dining room where he has the table already set. It’s even adorned with a candle in the center. I swallow hard. I have never had a dinner at home with candlelight, and it’s something I have always wished for. It just seems so romantic.

“Wow . . . so pretty,” I say as I take a seat.

“Water? Wine? Ginger ale?”

“Oooh, I would love a ginger ale.”

He comes to the table with a soda for me and a glass of red wine in his hand. He flops down in the chair across from me. “It feels so good to be out of that damn truck, doesn’t it?”

I nod as I sip my soda. “It does. I was really starting to worry.”

“I know that must have been really hard for you.” He starts to pile spaghetti onto my plate. “Being stuck in a truck with a stranger and all, but you really did good, Evie. I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to be around.”

I give him a sweet smile. “Neither am I.”

Eating warm food again is amazing, the aroma of the sauce making my stomach growl for more. It’s funny the things we take for granted. “Storm, this is so good,” I say after a few bites. “Thanks for making dinner. I forgot what hot food was.”

“No problem. John dropped our stuff off. I put your bags in the living room.”

“Oh, cool. Maybe you can give me his address and I can send him a thank you card?”

He sips his wine and makes an uneasy face. “I can tell him for you.”

After we eat, I help Storm clean up before he goes off to shower, leaving me alone in the living room with Niko, who promptly jumps up on the couch with me. I’m actually going to miss this big, fluffy dog. I pet him absently as I stare around the room, hoping to find photographs of Storm and his family to give me a bit more insight into him, but there are none in this room.

“I see you two are best buds now.” Holy shit. He has nothing on except for a pair of black sweatpants that sit low on his hips, teasing me with a glimpse of that rippling V disappearing beneath his waistband. His top half is all muscles and ink, completely covering his arms and chest. His wet hair is slicked back, hanging down his back and over his broad, inked shoulders.

Wow. Just wow. I have never seen a man with such an amazing body in person.

I struggle to compose myself and not drool all over everything. “Storm, put a damn shirt on.”

Instead, he keeps coming closer until he’s standing just a few inches away. “Michael must be butt-ugly because you can’t seem to handle being anywhere near a man with a decent body without practically having a seizure.”

“Michael is not ugly. It’s just inappropriate for you to walk around half-naked. I’m not used to looking at strange men who are barely dressed.”

He tosses his head a bit, his wet hair sending drops of water flying. “Hey, I ain’t that strange. And it’s my house, so I can walk around naked or half-naked or any other state of dress or undress if I want to.”

I sigh, thinking I probably shouldn’t have stayed here in his house. I really don’t know him at all, even though we just spent so much time locked up together. I have put myself right into his home field of treating me any way he wants to and forcing me to put up with his cocky sexual behavior.

“You could take your shirt off and we’d be even.” He’s giving me his devilish smile that’s somewhere between sexy as hell and wickedly adorable. How can someone look like that? It’s not fair. He sits on the couch, on the other side of the dog, but still too close for me to be comfortable with him being so . . . undressed.

“No, thank you. Is this why you wanted me to stay here? Did you think I was going to sleep with you?”

“Who said I wanted you to stay here?”

Well, damn. I guess he never really did come right out and say that directly. It’s just what I assumed. Maybe he was just trying to be polite by offering but really wanted me to just leave. Shit. I’m an idiot.

I bite my lip, feeling stupid for thinking he wanted me here, and confused as to why I care enough that it upsets me.

He reaches over and takes a piece of my hair between his fingers, twirling it. “I did want you to stay, Evie.”

Whew. “Is this, like, your love nest? Where you bring women for your non-committal relationships?”

He’s still twirling my hair, winding it around his finger and tugging it slightly. A shiver creeps over my skull and shoots down my spine. “I’ve never brought a woman here, actually. This is my private space. It’s sacred to me, to have space that’s untouched by the outside world.”

“Then why did you want me here invading it?”

He tugs my hair slightly again and meets my eyes. “I don’t really know. But I wanted to find out.” His voice is raw and honest, no hint of humor or teasing. No smirky grin. Just those deep pools of green watching me, reading me.

I feel like I’m breathing heavier than normal, and I hope he can’t see it as I attempt to level myself. The effect he has on me is so uncomfortable.

I swallow and continue to pet Niko between us. “You’ve mentioned hiding and wanting privacy a few times. What does that mean?”

His eyes shift to the left, and his jaw clenches as he struggles with what to say. Or not say.

“Do you not want me to know?” I ask him.

He shakes his head slowly, his fingers still playing with my hair and gently brushes across my cheek. “No,” he replies. “I don’t. But let’s just say sometimes, I just want to be me, and the only way I can do that is to be alone.”

I reach up and grab his hand, gently pulling it away from my hair. “Have you been ‘you’ while we’ve been stuck together?”

“Mostly.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s enlightening.”

Enlightening? What does that mean?

He stands up and pulls me up with him. “Come on, I want to go in the hot tub. I shoveled the deck while you were in the shower.” He tugs me across the room by my hand. I tug back in protest.

“Wait, what?” Hot tub? No.

He continues to pull me across the room to the sliding glass doors, which lead to a wooden deck off the back of the house. He flips a switch and tiny, glowing blue lights outline the edge of the deck. The cover is already off the hot tub situated in the corner, steam rising from the bubbling water.

“Storm, it’s freezing out here . . .”

“I know, but it’s awesome hot in there. I got it ready earlier while you were in the shower. I love being in the hot tub in the middle of winter when it’s cold and dark out.”

He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to get into a hot tub with him in the dark while we’re out in the woods surrounded by snow.

He lets go of my hand and pulls his sweats down until he’s standing there in just his boxer shorts. I look away, but not before noticing his legs are also extremely muscular and covered in tattoos.

He climbs into the tub and slowly sinks into the water. “Whooo!” he yells. “This feels fucking awesome. Get your ass in here, Evelyn.”

“I don’t even have a bathing suit,” I say stupidly. A part of me does want to go in, though, because the heat would feel amazing right now.

“Just come in with your bra and panties then. I won’t touch you. I won’t even look while you get in. See?” He turns around and faces the other direction.

When would I have a chance again to be in a hot tub in the middle of the woods under a black sky littered with stars? Probably never. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.

Damn it to Hell. I pull off the hoodie and slip out of the sweatpants. “Don’t you dare turn around,” I warn as I climb into the tub of unexpectedly hot water. “Holy shit,” I say, sucking in a breath and slowly sinking into the churning water. I feel like I’m going to cook in here.

“Can I turn around now?”

“I guess. But stay over there.”

He has a big grin on his face when he turns around. “It feels great, doesn’t it?”

I keep my body as low as possible under the water so he can’t see me. “It does feel good. I shouldn’t be in here, though.”

“Why? I won’t let you drown.”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t be doing things like this with you.”

He flicks some water into my face. “Stop thinking everything you do is wrong, Evelyn. Fuck. No wonder you have panic attacks. You’re so hard on yourself. Just let yourself have fun and stop thinking it’s wrong.”

“It is wrong, Storm.”

“Evelyn, if you want to do these things, and you enjoy it, maybe that should tell you something, ya know? Maybe this is right and the other parts of your life are wrong.”

“Really? I should just do all sorts of things I want to do, just to have fun, regardless of the consequences or who I hurt?”

“No, I don’t think you should hurt anyone. But if doing things that make you happy hurts someone else, then maybe you shouldn’t be with them. Right? It’s your life. You gotta make yourself happy first.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to relax in here, okay? Isn’t that why we’re in here? To relax?”

“Yes. And to be warm after freezing our asses off for two days.”

Being outside in the dark, with just the dim glow of the Christmas lights and the stars above, is simply beautiful. Off in the distance, I can see the light of another home, but it’s pretty far. I can see why Storm likes it here. It’s so peaceful. No traffic, no houses on top of each other, no nosey neighbors. I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this, far away from people and surrounded by nature. If I lived on a huge piece of property in the woods, I’d have a few dogs, and some chickens. Maybe even a miniature goat or pony.

Guilt floods me, sitting in a hot tub while Michael is home alone worrying about me. I hope John called him and told him I was okay. I have no idea what he told him or how he explained the situation, but I hope he didn’t spin it like I was spending the night with some random stranger enjoying myself.

Aren’t I, though?

“Evelyn, I can see the little crazy hamster in your head spinning in circles. Stop worrying.”

I splash water into his face. “Stop analyzing me.”

“You’re going to regret that.” His wicked smirk is back. Within seconds, he’s across the tub and right in front of me. “Turn around.” His voice is deep but playful.

“What? Why?”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around, positioning me right in front of one of the jets. And when I say right in front of one of the jets, I mean it’s jetting right between my legs. Yes. There.

“Storm—” I try to back away, but his chest is against my back, stopping me from moving away.

“Shh . . .” he whispers against my ear. His hands slide down my arms, all the way to my hands, splaying my arms out and pressing my hands against the rim of the tub, holding me there. The pulsing water against my clit is amazing. As much as I want to get away from it, it feels so good I just can’t. My body wants to stay right where it is.

“Shut your mind off and just let go,” he whispers.

I lean back against him, my back flush against his chest, my head on his shoulder. The erotic pulse of the water takes me into a euphoric trance. Once again, I can feel his hard cock pressing against my ass. Only this time, with just the thin, wet material between us, the feeling is amplified. It’s almost flesh on flesh. He doesn’t move or touch me at all as I writhe against the water; he just holds my hands against the edge of the tub so I can’t move away.

Being held there by him, trapped by his body, is only arousing me even more. I could turn around right now, wrap my legs around that muscled body of his, and feel him slide into me. Never have I been more turned on or in such a frenzy to have an orgasm. Every part of my body is aching to be touched, to be filled. My entire body begins to tremble and thrash as multiple orgasms quake through me, finally leaving me limp as a ragdoll. He releases my hands and slowly turns me back around.

“Feel better?” he asks, his voice husky and low.

I can barely even open my eyes. The heat of the water coupled with all the orgasms has utterly exhausted me mentally and physically. “Why do you keep doing that to me?” I ask him, my voice soft and far away.

“What? Orgasm assistance?”

My eyes snap open. “Seriously? Did you just say that? I don’t need assistance.”

“I think you do. Tell me if you’ve ever felt like that before.”

I push him away. “Leave me alone, Storm. I don’t need your help to get off.”

Lies, lies, lies. I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm prior to this weekend. It’s been a while. I fake it with Michael most of the time because I just can’t get there, and he won’t stop until he thinks I have. It’s easier to just fake it and move on. As long as he has one, I’m happy. I don’t need to have an orgasm to be happy and satisfied.

Or at least I didn’t think so. Until Storm made me hump a water jet, and now I’ve been forced to face the kind of ecstasy I’ve been missing.

“We should go inside,” he suggests. “I don’t want you passing out in here.”

I am too jelly-like to argue with him. I let him help me out of the tub, and I sit on a chair while he grabs towels from a wooden cabinet off to the side of the deck. My body feels like mush. I dry off in silence and slowly pull my clothes back on, avoiding eye contact with him. When I’m dressed, I head back inside and leave him outside to close up the tub and turn the lights off.

Glancing at the wall clock, I realize it’s midnight. I just want to go to bed. The sooner I can get to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here, and I can get away from Storm forever. He is totally a bad influence, luring me into strange orgasmic situations I never, ever would have done under normal circumstances. I wonder if this is how he spends most of his nights, just getting women off at every tick of the clock.

I don’t say anything to him when he comes into the house and locks the glass door behind him.

“You’re giving me the silent treatment now?” he asks, poking at the fire and adding another log. “Just because of that?”

“You know I don’t want to do those things, Storm. You keep turning my body against me.”

“Maybe you should give your body what it wants.”

No. I am not going there with him. I just want him to be quiet and leave me alone so I can go back to my normal state of being—boring as it may be.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the bedroom and you can get some sleep.”

I silently follow him down the hallway to a huge bedroom with a monstrous four-poster bed, all done in mahogany wood with matching dressers. The walls are painted a deep wine color, and thick, white carpet covers the floor before a small, tiled area leading to a private bathroom.

“Wow. This is beautiful.”

“Thanks. This is my room, but you can sleep in here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I know I saw another closed door in the hallway that I’m pretty sure led to another bedroom. “Isn’t there a guest room down the hall? I can sleep there, I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not a bedroom. I just store my shit in there, and it’s a mess.”

“Oh. I can’t take your bed, Storm. You’ve been scrunched up in a truck for two days. You deserve to stretch out.”

“It’s fine. The couch is huge. Niko and I sleep there a lot. No worries, okay?” He ruffles my hair. God, I hate that. It goes back to being cute. “There’s a bathroom right there if you need it.”

“Okay. Thanks. I feel bad taking your bed, though.” I’m not just saying that; I truly do feel bad. It feels unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

He starts to walk toward the door. “Absolutely not.” He turns to face me again. “In the morning, I’ll take you to town so we can figure out what’s up with your car, and you can call Michael and get yourself home.”

“Sounds good.”

With that, he leaves. I don’t know why a room always feels strangely empty after he walks out. I undress, leaving just my panties on, and climb into the huge bed, which must be a king size because it’s bigger than any bed I’ve ever been in. I sink back into the soft pillows and pull the comforter over me. It’s down and just heavenly soft. Being able to stretch out and having the softness of the sheets surround me is incredible. I feel like I’m lying on a cloud.

My eyes are getting heavy as sleep attempts to pull me under, away from the stress of the past few days. I want to let myself slip away from it all, but I can’t. My mind keeps wandering back to Storm . . . in the other room . . . on the couch with his dog. His ability to annoy me is huge, and his so-called orgasm assistance is by far the worst thing I have ever done. I know it’s cheating no matter how he tries to spin it. But there is definitely something else there, hiding under the surface—something pulling us to one another like a magnet.

I crawl out of the bed and find my sweatshirt in the dark, pulling it over my head. I don’t bother putting my pants back on. I quietly tiptoe out into the hallway and down into the living room. He’s sitting there in total silence, his back to the hallway so he doesn’t realize I’m there, just staring out the windows into the black nothingness of the night. I quietly step closer to him.

“Storm?”

His head snaps to look at me. “Evie. What’s wrong?”

I’ve lost my voice. It’s hiding behind my thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings I can’t even begin to explain or understand right now.

“I-I just . . .” I look down, away from his intense stare. What am I doing? “Nothing,” I say softly. “Goodnight.”

I walk back down the dimly lit hallway and find my way back to the bed, snuggling under the covers once again. I wonder why he’s not sleeping and what he’s thinking. Probably plotting my next unwanted orgasm.

I begin to drift off, but I feel a weight on the bed. I open my eyes to see Niko lying at the foot of it, curled up against my feet. I smile; Halo sleeps on the bed with me, too. “Goodnight, Niko,” I whisper. That’s when I notice Storm in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. My heart literally stops. What the heck is he doing?

I don’t say a word as he slowly walks toward the bed. He stops when he gets right next to the side where I’m lying. He’s only inches away, but I can hardly see him in the darkness. I can feel him, though. I can feel the heat radiating off his body like he’s electric. I can hear his steady breathing. I find his hand in the dark and gently pull him into the bed, and he settles next to me quietly. He is massive—all legs, muscle, and hair. I’m trembling all over, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or the new unknown excitement that he forces onto my body. Rolling onto his side, he pulls me against him, cocooning me against the warmth of his chest.

“I can feel your heart pounding, Evie.” His voice is so low I can barely hear him.

“I can feel yours, too.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I know. I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

Everything inside me freezes.

“You have no idea who I am. Or what I could do to you. I could do things to you that you can’t even fucking imagine, Evie.” He burrows his nose into my hair and takes a deep breath. “I want to make you scream my name.”

Fear and sheer desire rip through my body. Those two feelings should never be mixed up and thrown together into the same space. I want to run. I want to hide under the bed. I want him to kiss me. I want to touch every inch of him. Oh my. I am so messed-up.

“Relax, little one. I’m not going to touch you or hurt you. But I will be the ghost that always haunts you.”

Shit. Damn.

He lets go of me and rolls onto his back, but reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers together. We fall asleep that way, two feet apart, our hands still together.

It’s what we do.

It’s our thing.

THERE’S SOMETHING TERRIBLY INTIMATE ABOUT WATCHING a person sleep. To watch them when they have no idea you’re doing it. It’s an invasion of the highest form to gaze upon someone when they are unable to hide, or put a wall up, to protect whatever scars or vulnerabilities they might have. I’m doing this now, but like so many other things these past few days, I can’t stop myself. Nor do I want to.

Storm is lying on his back, deep in sleep. Sometime during the night, he pushed the comforter off himself and it’s now only covering him from the waist down. One arm is bent up, curled under the pillow beneath his head. I study his face, marveling at how long and dark his eyelashes are. He has some scruff from not shaving for a few days. His lips are full and slightly parted as he breathes soundly, his long hair fanned out over the pillow. His chest, sides, and stomach, as well as his arms, are covered in a huge collage of mostly black ink with some color splashed in. There are words in calligraphic style—‘don’t fear the pain’, ‘rise above’, ‘all that’s ugly is beautiful’, ‘hate me or fuck me’. What? That last one, seriously?

The artwork itself is beautiful and just a mishmash of things. Castles, wolves, faces, masks, clowns, swords, feathers, random numbers, a rainbow, a motorcycle on a road, bleeding hearts, a raven, peeking eyes. There’s a black arrow low on his hip pointing toward his crotch. I smirk at it because it’s just so him.

His skin is naturally dark and smooth. I spy a long scar on his chest, jagged and almost hidden under the fuzzy hairs and ink. I want to touch it, but I don’t let myself.

Every part of him is defined muscle. He must work out a lot to look like this. This type of bulk does not come from sitting around.

He stirs and rolls over toward me, and his eyes slowly open and lock right onto mine. He’s caught me staring at him again.

“I’m gonna start charging you.” His voice is groggy and sleepy.

“Very funny,” I say.

He sits up and stretches his arms out. “Breakfast or a blowjob?” he says.

“What?” I’m not smiling anymore.

“Those are the choices when a chick wakes up in my bed.”

“Not for this chick. Sorry.” Ugh, he’s such a pig sometimes.

He looks down at me with his bratty smile. “I’m just kidding. Don’t get all crazy.”

I shake my head in annoyance at him and roll over so I’m facing the other side of the bed. I should get up, but it’s so nice to be in such an amazingly comfortable bed. I wish I could stay in it all day.

He props himself on his elbow and I can feel his eyes on me. “I watched you sleep, too, ya know. In the truck.”

“I’m sure that was exciting.” Ugh. I hope I wasn’t making weird faces, drooling, or snoring when I was sleeping. I’m sure I didn’t look all pretty and glamorous like women do in the movies.

“You twitch.”

I wince. Of course, something embarrassing.

“You don’t sleep peacefully, Evelyn. Why not? What are you thinking about?”

“How would I know? I’m sleeping.”

“I thought I was wound-up, but I think you’re even worse than me.”

“I am not wound-up,” I say, sitting up and holding the sheet against my chest as I swing my legs off the side of the bed. I don’t want to hear any more of his comments about me. I just want to go home.

I look at him over my shoulder. “If you’re done psycho-analyzing me, can we please get dressed and go?”

“You can’t wait to get away from me, can you?”

“No, I would like to just get back to my life, as I’m sure you would, too.”

“I dunno. I’m kind of getting used to having you around. You’re like a little spastic kitten. One minute, you’re cuddling and purring, and the next, the claws are out, and you’re pouncing in five directions.”

Well, there’s an analogy I’ll never forget.

He grabs a handful of my hair and gently pulls me back to his face. “You can scratch me if you want,” he whispers.

I yank his hand out of my hair. “Storm, cut it out. Stop touching me and saying things like that.”

“You’re hard not to touch. Sorry.” He stands and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door.

I wonder if that was some strange compliment. Somehow, he’s made me feel guilty for not letting him touch me. What kind of crap-twist is that? Screw this crazy with him. No wonder he doesn’t have any real girlfriends. They would have to be insane to deal with him.

I grab my bag, take it into the main bathroom and put some makeup and clothes on. I still only have the one pair of stupid shoes, of course. Back out in the living room, I find my cell phone plugged into the wall next to the couch and realize Storm must have done that for me last night, because I forgot to do it myself. There are still zero bars.

He comes into the room wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and barefoot, carrying his boots. There is something about a barefoot man in jeans that’s so sexy. At least to me. He whistles for Niko, who comes running, and Storm lets him out the door to go do his business.

“The cafe in town has those lattes you like so much. Once you’re ready, I’ll take you.”

“Thank God. I need a coffee badly. I’m ready when you are.”

“Great. Once Niko comes back in, we can go.”

He sits on the chair across the room and pulls on socks and his work boots. An odd feeling starts to wash over me as I watch him, his arms flexing as he ties his boots, his hair hanging down over his face. I’m going to miss him.

He looks up and catches my eyes, but I quickly look away, only to peek back at him. He shakes his head, visibly annoyed, and stands up.

“Just say it,” he demands, his face turned away from me as he slides open the glass door and whistles for Niko.

“Say what?”

Niko comes bounding in, paws covered in snow, and runs directly over to me to kiss my face. I pet his big, fuzzy head and plant a kiss between his ears. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” I tell him.

“He’s going to miss you, too. A lot.”

I look up at Storm, who’s watching me pet his dog, and I know what he’s saying; what he wants me to say. But I won’t say it, and I can see he’s mad. I will not fall into his trap. He thrives on this cat-and-mouse game of making women want him so he can play with them, and I will not be one of his toys or allow myself to think the few glimpses of possible sincerity meant anything.

“Let’s go.” He picks up my bag and I follow him down the hall to a door leading to the garage. A Jeep, a newer Corvette, and about six motorcycles are parked in there. The walls are covered in tools. I fight the urge to ask him if this is all his. He opens the passenger side of the Jeep for me and I climb in, waiting for him to come around and do the same.

“Let’s not crash, okay?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood that’s coming off him.

He grins over at me as he pushes a button to open the electric garage door and starts to back up. “If we do, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you back here. Our backseat days are over.”

Now that it’s daytime and the snow has stopped, I can see how far into the woods we are. There are maybe three houses on the street where Storm’s house is, and then we turn onto the main road where we were stuck. We drive about five miles until we come to a very small town. It’s adorable and quaint, with a few small mom and pop shops, an auto garage, a diner-cafe, the hotel—which is more like a little bed and breakfast it seems—and a very small grocery store. Storm stops at the garage first to check on our cars, which have both been towed here already. Mine doesn’t look too bad from the outside—the front just looks dented a bit—but Storm’s truck is all smashed up in the front. Seeing the damage makes me realize how lucky we are we weren’t hurt.

“Wait here in the truck and I’ll go talk to Seth. He’s the mechanic.”

I nod and watch him walk inside the garage. After a few minutes, I get bored and open the glove compartment. Condoms, a bunch of guitar picks, a fork, gum, a tiny Maglite. And a black bra. Size big. I slam the little door shut, disgusted. Who leaves their bra in some guy’s glove compartment? Did she leave the Jeep braless with those things bouncing around? What kind of woman does that? The kind he likes, obviously. I open my purse and take out my pocket hand sanitizer, squirting it all over my hands. Who knows what the hell was crawling around in there.

Moments later, he jumps in, but does a double-take at me. “Is that germ gel you’re holding?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my head. “You have germ gel with you?”

“Thankfully, yes. Can we talk about my car, please? Can I drive it home?”

He starts up the Jeep. “No, it’s fucked-up in the front. Seth has to order some parts. It will take a few days.”

“Well, shit. How much is that going to cost? Should I give him my insurance paperwork?”

He shakes his head as he backs out of the parking lot. “No, I told him I’d take care of it.”

“Why? I can’t let you do that.”

“Um, because I want to, and yes, you can. My trucks front end is messed up. I was gonna just get rid of it, but it kind of has sentimental value now, sooo . . . I’m gonna let him fix it.”

“Sentimental value?”

“Yeah. We spent two days in there. How can I get rid of it?”

“You’re crazy, Storm, ya know that?”

He just laughs at me and I realize I totally forgot to call Michael because I was too busy hounding around in Storm’s truck. I pull my cell phone out of my purse and turn it on. A few emails and text messages come through. Finally! A connection.

I have six text messages from Amy. And two from Michael. Just two?

The first one: Did you get there okay?

And the second one, hours later: Call me when you have a connection.

Storm pulls into the cafe parking lot. “Hang on,” I say. “I’m going to call Michael while I have reception.”

I dial our house number, but there’s no answer. Hmm. I disconnect and dial his cell.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hon. It’s me!”

“Jesus, Evelyn. What happened?”

“I got lost. And the snow got really bad and you know my car is awful in the snow, and I went off the road into a ditch. Some guy came along and tried to give me a ride, but then this deer ran out in front of us and caused us to crash again. It was totally crazy, Michael. I was scared out of my mind. So, we were stuck in his truck for like two days and thank God, he had blankets and some food in there. It was awful.”

Storm rolls his eyes, and I smack his arm and make a face at him.

“Well, at least you’re okay,” Michael says casually. “How’s your car?”

“It’s kind of smashed-up. It’s at the garage here in this little town, but he needs a few days to fix it.”

“All right. So, how are you getting home?”

“You have to come get me. I’ll tell you where I am. I was nowhere near the Falls Inn. The GPS got me lost.”

“Evelyn, I can’t come get you. I was called to go to a sales meeting. I had to go out of town. I’m in South Carolina. I flew in last night, and I won’t be home until tomorrow night.”

“Are you kidding? How am I supposed to get home?”

“Can you call Amy?”

“Amy isn’t going to want to drive up here to get me, you know that. Her car doesn’t even have four-wheel drive, and the roads are still kind of snowy and icy up here.”

“Well, get a cab then. It will cost a fortune, but you don’t have a choice.”

“Is Halo okay? You just left him? Did you feed him?” I start to panic, realizing he left my poor cat alone.

I hear him sigh on the other end. “He’s fine, Evelyn. I gave him a ton of food and water before I left. He hid upstairs the entire weekend.”

“Well, did he eat at all?” I know elderly cats can’t go very long without eating before starting to have liver or kidney problems. Especially a cat his age.

“I think so. I don’t fucking know. I didn’t count the food.”

Hot tears well up in my eyes. If Halo is sick, I will never forgive myself. Or him.

“Okay, Evelyn. I gotta go type up this presentation for this meeting. Send me a text or call me when you’re home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right, I will. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He hangs up and I stare out the window. I won’t cry in front of Storm. I won’t cry in front of Storm.

“Hey? You okay?” His voice is laced with concern, void of his usual sarcasm. I wipe at my eyes and shove my phone into my purse. “Yes, I’m fine. Is there a taxi service up here?”

“Fuck that. I’ll drive you home.”

I shake my head. “No. You’ve done enough for me already. Please, just help me get a taxi.”

“Evelyn, stop. Let’s have breakfast, and I’ll take you home, okay?”

I look down at my lap. I can’t believe Michael isn’t even home. It’s like he wasn’t even worried about me. He just left the state. He could have told his boss what happened to me and asked to stay home until I came back. I fight back the tears that are threatening to fall.

“He’s a douche nozzle,” Storm announces.

“Storm, don’t.” My voice quivers. I don’t need him pointing out all the things I’m thinking right now.

“Fuck this. Stay here.”

He slams the door and disappears into the cafe. I sit there and try not to cry. I don’t know if I’m more worried about Halo or more pissed at Michael right now. How could he leave like that, not knowing if I was okay? I could never just leave if I didn’t know he was safe.

A few minutes later, Storm comes back with two coffees and a white bag.

“White mocha?” He hands it to me. Oh, my God, he remembered. I smile weakly at him.

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

He winks at me and hands me the bag.

“Cinnamon bagel with cream cheese. I guessed on that one. It seemed like a girly bagel.”

“Thank you. That’s perfect. Very girly.” I smile at him because sometimes he can just be really cute.

“I figured we could eat on the way to your house, since there’s no way you were going to sit through breakfast while you’re worried about your cat.”

I take a bite of my bagel and nod. “Thank you,” is all I can say.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get rid of your ass,” he teases as he pulls out onto the main road.

STORM IS FAMILIAR WITH THE AREA, so I don’t need to give him detailed directions all the way to my house. Which I’m grateful for because I really don’t feel like talking at all. Maybe I shouldn’t be upset about Michael, and I’m just being overly sensitive. After all, it’s his job. It’s not like he purposely made plans so he wouldn’t be around when I finally got home from my adventure.

I slowly sip on my white mocha, which is one of the best I’ve ever had. It’s creamy, sweet, and smooth. If the cafe weren’t so damn far away, I wouldn’t mind the drive up there every Saturday just to have one of these lattes.

Storm is puffing on a cigarette and fiddling with the radio as he drives. I don’t recall seeing him smoke at his house, which is kind of odd. Maybe it’s his non-smoking zone.

“A quiet Evelyn is a scary Evelyn,” he says with a sideways glance at me.

I continue to stare out the passenger-side window and ignore him. He’s like an exotic animal in a zoo—as much as you want to enjoy its beauty and pet its gorgeous fur, you can’t make eye contact without worrying it might jump on you.

“How’s your mocha thing?”

“It’s really good, actually.”

He takes a final drag on his cigarette then throws it out the window.

“Does this sort of thing happen a lot, Evelyn?”

I chew on my lip. I don’t want to talk to him, and I especially don’t want to talk about Michael. I think all I really want to do is go home, make sure Halo is okay, and go to bed. For about a week.

“Evelyn? Why aren’t you talking to me?”

An aggravated sigh escapes me before I can stop it. “Storm, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You say that a lot. Maybe you’ll feel better if you talk.”

Leaning my head back against the seat, I shake my head. “No, I really won’t.”

He leaves it alone and we don’t talk anymore until we’re near my condo. “Turn left here,” I tell him. “It’s the last one on the right.”

He parks in my parking spot. “Can I come inside with you for a few minutes?”

I wasn’t planning on him actually coming into my house. It feels too strange to me to have a man who I basically fooled around with in the home I share with Michael. Slut.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea . . .”

“I’d like to meet Halo and make sure he’s okay before I leave. You’re here without a car. What if he’s sick or something? You’re stuck here.”

Oh, wow. I hadn’t even thought of that. I’m going to be stuck here until Michael comes home tomorrow.

I give in, but only because I want to make sure my cat is okay before I let him go, and it would be rude to make him stay in the car after he let me stay at his gorgeous place.

“All right, you can come inside for a few minutes.”

He grabs my bag and looks around the parking lot before opening his door and coming around to my side to open the door for me. I’m impressed by this gesture. A bit of chivalry at an unexpected time can make a girl really happy.

I feel a bit embarrassed as we head inside. Our condo is small, a bit outdated and rather cluttered. And I have no idea what sort of mess Michael has left behind without me here to clean up after him.

Storm seems huge in my tiny hallway. I take my bag from him and go into the living room, placing it on the couch. The room is a mess, just as I figured it would be. Soda cans and potato chip bags lying on the coffee table, the TV still on.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Michael’s a bit of a slob. I usually clean everything.” I pick up the random cans and take them to the kitchen, where the garbage is overflowing so bad the lid won’t shut and the sink is filled with dirty dishes. Ugh.

Storm has followed me, and I look at him apologetically. “It’s not usually this messy.”

“Evelyn, I don’t care. Go check your cat. I’ll wait here.”

Unfortunately, since Halo is deaf, I can’t call him or shake a bag of cat food, so I have to hunt for him. Sometimes, I can stomp my feet on the floor and he’ll feel the vibration and come running, but I’m not about to jump up and down like a lunatic in front of Storm.

After some hunting, I finally find Halo under my bed, all curled up sleeping. I gently blow on him to wake him, and he immediately does his screech-meow at me. I pick him up and cradle him like a baby, which he loves, and carry him downstairs.

“I found him under the bed.”

Storm’s face lights up as soon as he sees him. I think it’s awesome he’s such an animal lover. I can see it in his eyes, the genuine care. “Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. And big.” He reaches out and softly pets Halo’s head. “Wow, I can’t believe he’s eighteen. That’s wild.” I place Halo on the couch and touch his back to see if his spine feels more prominent, which would be a sign of weight loss.

“He seems okay,” Storm says. “Does he seem thinner to you?”

“No, I think he’s good. Thank God. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

Storm’s gaze goes from Halo to me. “Evie, are you going to be all right here alone?”

“Of course. I’m alone here almost all the time. Michael has to travel for work a lot, so I’m used to it. I just wasn’t expecting it this time, ya know? Thank you for driving me home, Storm.” I look up into his eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

He takes a step closer to me and grabs each of my hands in his, sending tingles through my body again. How does he do that? “Seth will call you about your car. I put my number in your phone. You can call me if you want to.”

“You took my phone? Storm, that’s like an invasion of privacy.”

“Blah, blah, blah. What’s the big deal? Just call me if you need to, all right?”

“Fine,” I agree, but I know I will never call him. There’s no reason to. We’re not friends, not really. We’re just two people who were stuck together for a few days and made the best of a bad situation. Unfortunately, his cockiness and player-tude got the best of me while I was vulnerable, but I will never let that happen again.

He hangs on to my hands longer than he should and just looks at me, like he either wants to say something or is waiting for me to say something.

I clear my throat and pull my hands out of his. “Are you going back to enjoy your time alone now? Or was that only supposed to be for the weekend?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll stay there tonight and figure out what I want to do tomorrow.”

I nod. “So, where is home then, if that’s just like a vacation sort of place for you?”

He chews on the inside of his cheek before answering me. “Just around. Not far.”

It’s clear he doesn’t want me to know where he lives. As if I would stalk him or something? Please.

“Well . . . thanks again. It was nice getting to know you. Give Niko a pet for me.”

“I will. You should think about getting a dog since you’re alone here so much. A deaf cat can’t offer you much protection, no matter how cute he is.”

“Yeah, Michael doesn’t like dogs. I’m fine, really.” Just leave. Don’t linger. I want you to hold my hands again and make me tingle.

“Michael sounds like a smashing fellow.”

“Okay, you can go now. I have a ton of cleaning to do, as you can see.”

He takes a few steps toward the door and turns around once more. “I’ll see ya around, Evie.

I walk past him and open the door so he’ll actually go through it. “Bye, Storm.” Go. Go. Go.

He stops in the doorway and leans down close to my face. For a second, I think he is going to kiss me and I hold my breath.

“Promise me you’ll remember who I was with you,” he says, his raspy voice low.

“Yes. Of course, I will.”

He winks at me, touches the tip of my nose, and leaves. I close the door slowly behind him. I refuse to watch him leave. I don’t know why, but I can’t.

What the hell was that all about? Cryptic. I have a feeling that meant something, but I have no idea what. Shit, I hope he doesn’t have some terminal illness. My stomach sinks. Could that be it?

I can’t dwell on it. I have so much to do, starting with the mess Michael left me. Laundry, vacuuming, and I need to call my boss, Jack. Ugh. I should just get that over with first.

I dial the office and punch in his extension.

“Jack Sands,” he says in his gruff tone.

“Hi, Jack, it’s me. It’s Evelyn.”

“Evelyn. What the hell happened? Where are you? It’s Tuesday afternoon and you’re not here, no calls, nothing. The event coordinator emailed over the weekend and said you never even showed up. I expect an explanation. The seminar and your room cost me twenty-five hundred dollars that I’ve now lost.”

I take a deep breath. “Jack, I am so sorry. I got lost on the way to the hotel, and I somehow ended up on this road up in the mountains. The snow was getting really bad and I lost control of my car. I was stuck on the side of the road. Another driver saw me there and stopped to give me a ride, but then while we were in his car, a deer ran out in the middle of the road, and he slammed on his brakes. That caused his truck to spin around and slide all over the road and next thing I know, we’ve gone completely off the road and out into the woods until we crashed into a tree and were totally stuck. The snow was so bad by then we couldn’t even try to walk to find help, so we were stuck in his truck for two entire days. It was terrible. I thought we were going to freeze to death. We finally got out yesterday. My car is stuck at a garage up there, though, getting fixed.”

Hearing myself tell this story, I realize I sound like a complete idiot. It sounds utterly ridiculous.

“Evelyn, are you serious?”

“Jack, I swear to you, every word is true. I am so sorry about the seminar and everything. My phone had no reception up in the mountains. That’s why I couldn’t call for help or let anyone know where I was.”

He makes an aggravated noise. I can picture him at his desk looking all pissed off. “Well, what’s done is done. At least you’re okay. I am very disappointed, however.”

“I’m very sorry, Jack.” Sorry I almost died, dude.

“So, will you be in later today? We’re short-staffed now with you not here.”

“Um, I don’t have a car right now.” I swallow and take a deep breath before continuing, bracing myself. “Also, Jack, I was hoping maybe I could take two personal days while I get the car taken care of and kind of recuperate from this. I am exhausted from not sleeping and dehydrated. I would really appreciate it if I could take two days to recover. I could speak to Human Resources instead, if you’d like.” Ha. I know that will get him. He doesn’t ever want any of his direct reports to contact HR.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Evelyn. It’s inconvenient, but if you need the time to recuperate, then we’ll do our best to manage. I’ll expect you here on Friday.” I hear a loud click before I can say thank you. Asshole.

I’m thankful I have the rest of today and the next two days to rest and get my head together. Until then, I can put work out of my mind and just deal with the mess on Friday when I go back in.

I grab the laundry basket and walk through the condo, picking up the stray socks, towels, and other clothing Michael left all over the place. I empty my travel bag onto the couch so I can wash all those wrinkly clothes, too. I pull out a big, black sweatshirt—the one Storm gave me, which I forgot to give back to him. I hope he doesn’t want it back because it’s huge and comfy, and I love me a large, cozy sweatshirt. I throw it in the basket and hope he forgets I still have it.

After I start the laundry, I vacuum, fill the dishwasher, throw out old food sitting in the fridge, clean and refill Halo’s dishes, and change the sheets on the bed. I feel like I’ve been gone for a month. I have no idea how Michael can manage to make such a mess in a small amount of time. Oh, and that reminds me, I’m supposed to text him to let him know I’m home. I type a quick message on my phone and hit send.

Me: “I’m home.”

A few seconds later, my phone beeps.

Michael: “Great. I’ll be home tonight. The meeting wrapped up faster than I thought. See you then.”

I should probably call Amy, but I’m too tired to deal with her right now. She’s super hyper and will get me all riled up. So I send her a quick text telling her I’m home and safe and will call her tomorrow.

When the house finally feels back in order, I put on some yoga pants and get comfortable on the couch with Halo to watch a good movie and wait for Michael to come home.

The sound of the door slamming jolts me awake. I must have dozed off while watching television.

Michael is in the room, his laptop bag and overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Glad to be home?” he says, lowering his bags onto the chair.

I nod and cover my mouth to yawn. “I am. I feel so tired, though.”

He sits on the couch next to me and lays his hand on my leg. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Ev.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “I’m glad you’re home. Did you make any dinner? I’m starving.”

Eek. “No. There really isn’t any food to cook, and I don’t have my car, remember?”

“I forgot about your car, sorry. It’s been a long day.” Michael looks so . . . ordinary to me all of a sudden, with his short brown hair spiked a little in the front, and light baby blue eyes. He’s about five-eight with an average body. Observing Michael makes me realize Storm was so interesting to look at, like a piece of walking artwork. I quickly shake him out of my head.

“I can take your car and get us Chinese food,” I suggest.

“Yeah, baby, that would be great. Get the usual and I’ll take a shower. By the time you get back, I’ll be done.” I watch him walk away and disappear down the hallway toward the bathroom. I was really hoping he would have offered to get the food. He can see I’m sitting here in yoga pants and I just woke up.

I place our usual order by phone then pick it up. I feel sort of strange driving, and even a little bit nervous. Maybe the ordeal had a bigger effect on me than I thought. By the time I get back home and pull into my parking spot, I’m in the beginning stages of a panic attack. I rush inside, throw the food bag on the coffee table and sit on the couch as the dizziness comes over me. I pray I don’t start to have anxiety attacks every time I have to drive now. That is the last thing I need to complicate my life even more.

“Why are you just sitting there?” Michael asks. He’s toweling off his hair, wearing pajama bottoms and a gray t-shirt. He throws the wet towel on the recliner and picks up the bag. “Let’s eat, I’m starving. Did you set the table?”

I try to calm my breathing. “No . . . I just got back. I’m having a panic attack.”

“Evelyn, come on. Now what?” he says from our tiny kitchen. “Stop it and let’s eat. I’m tired. I’ve been on a plane all day, remember? I can’t deal with this now.”

“Michael, did you forget I was trapped in a blizzard with a total stranger for two days? I could have died. I was in two car crashes in less than an hour, then nearly froze in the back of some weird guy’s truck with some huge ass dog! I think I’m just a little bit stressed from all of it.”

I hear him clanking dishes around. “No, I didn’t forget, and I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I was worried about you. But you’re home now and you’re fine, so that’s all that matters. Now, come in here and eat. Dwelling on it is only going to make it worse. Did you take one of your pills?”

I join him in the kitchen and sit down, burying my face in my hands. I feel like I’m going to faint. He puts a glass of water in front of me. “Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated and hungry.”

I take a few sips of water and stare at him across the table. He’s piling chicken and broccoli onto his plate, barely paying attention to me. He hates when I have panic attacks because he believes I bring them on myself and can stop them at will. Even though he’s watched me have them for twelve years, he still can’t see I really can’t prevent them from happening.

I spoon some vegetable fried rice onto my plate. Even though I’m starving, I feel like eating is going to make me sick.

“How was your meeting?” I ask him, hoping to distract myself.

“The usual bullshit. I think we got the account, though, so that’s good. We’re going to be rolling out a new line of software starting next month. Remember, I told you the programmers were almost done? They finally got their shit together, so now we’re ready to sell it. I’m going to have to travel a bit more over the next few months while I demo this to our existing customers to try to get them to upgrade.”

I nod and swallow my food. “Okay. That sounds great, though. About the new software.”

“It is. I should be getting a higher commission, too. Maybe in a year or so, we can get out of this condo and get something bigger.”

That perks me up a bit. I have wanted to get out of this condo for a while now and move into a nice house with a pretty yard. Maybe Michael will finally want to get married at some point, too.

“That would be great. I’m really excited for you, Mike. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.”

He bites into his eggroll and starts talking with his mouth full. “Don’t start looking at houses yet or getting crazy ideas, Evelyn. It’s probably going to be a while before we can do any of that.”

Buzzkill.

He doesn’t talk for a while, and I wonder if he’s regretting bringing up the possibility of moving. Of course, I get my hopes up whenever he mentions a possible life change. Isn’t that normal? I don’t know many women who wouldn’t get excited about maybe moving into a nicer house.

“So, was the guy nice to you at least?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were stuck in the truck with.”

“He was okay, I guess. He was kind of weird, like a hippie or something. He had a huge dog with him.”

“You’re lucky he found you.”

I meet his light blue eyes across the table and wonder if he can tell that another man touched me then gave me an assisted orgasm. Does it show somehow? I feel like it’s branded across my forehead.

“Yeah, I was very lucky. He had a bunch of food and water in his truck, too, and a big, thick blanket. If he didn’t have all that, I’m not sure what would have happened.”

“It’s crazy. When the guy called me up to tell me, I thought he was kidding. It must have taken him about five minutes to convince me it wasn’t a joke.” He wipes his mouth on his napkin and lays it on his plate, signaling he is done eating. “When are you getting your car and going back to work?”

“I’m not sure about the car. The garage will call me when it’s done, then we’re going to have to go get it. I told Jack I’d be back on Friday.”

“All right. We’ll figure it out.” He stands up, pushing his chair back. “I’m going to go lie down. Come to bed when you’re done out here, okay?”

I nod vacantly. “Sure. In a few minutes.”

He leaves me sitting amongst the little Chinese food cartons and dirty plates. I’m not sure why I feel so out of place in my own home. Something is different, but I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know if it’s Michael or me—but something just feels different, like it’s moved out of place.

Maybe it’s guilt, which is not a feeling I am used to at all. I’ve never had to feel guilty about anything before, but I do now. Being close to Storm, sleeping next to him in his bed when I clearly had a choice to not sleep next to him again, was wrong. Cuddling to prevent both of us from freezing was one thing, but to sleep in the same bed with him once we were out of the situation was a big mistake. Having orgasms in front of him was wrong on more levels than I can even count. If the situation was reversed, and I found out Michael had touched, rubbed up against, and then slept next to another woman, I would be livid and jealous out of my mind.

I pick up my fortune cookie and break it open to read my fortune.

How can you have a beautiful ending without making beautiful mistakes?

Fortune cookie is an insightful bitch. Shut up, cookie.

I head up to our bedroom after I clean up the kitchen to find Michael lying in bed watching the news, but he clicks off the TV when I climb into bed beside him. He immediately turns on his side.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks, running his hand across my stomach under my tank top.

“I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep well at all the past few days.”

He moves his hand up to cup my breast, flicking his finger over my nipple. I’m really not in the mood for sex, but I feel like in a way it will cleanse me of what I did with Storm.

He kicks off his pajama bottoms then pulls off my panties, rolling on top of me in a swift motion. Michael is a hard kisser and the concept of foreplay went out the window about eleven years ago. Within seconds, he is forcing his way into me. The pain causes me to bite my lip so I don’t cry out. I don’t want him to mistake it for a pleasure moan. I put my arms around his back as he moves in and out of me and try to move with him. I can never have an orgasm during sex with him. I was starting to worry something was wrong with me, like maybe my clit was broken or something, so I actually brought it up to my ob-gyn last year. Thankfully, she is really sweet and easy to talk to, so it wasn’t as embarrassing as it sounds. She assured my parts were all in working order and the issue could just be that since Michael and I were both virgins when we started to have sex, we never experimented enough or evolved sexually together, so to speak. In other words, we are just sexually boring.

Maybe that’s why I was so easily turned on by Storm. He’s just a shiny new object who knew how to press the right buttons.

Michael grunts and collapses on top of me. “I missed you,” he says, kissing my neck.

“I can’t breathe.”

I inwardly cringe at my own non-romantic comment, but in my defense, he was crushing me, lying on top of me like dead weight.

He rolls over to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, babe. I’ll be around in the morning. I’m going into the office late.”

“Okay. I love you.”

I listen for him to say it back, but he’s already snoring.

“HOLY SHIT. EVELYN, WAKE UP.” MICHAEL is pushing my shoulder. I groan into my pillow and hide my face. All I want to do is sleep late in my own bed. He shakes me again. “Were you in the truck with Storm Valentine?”

I pick my head up and yawn. “Yeah . . . he just said Storm, though. He never told me his last name.” What a cool name. Storm Valentine. It sounds like a name in a romance novel.

“Evelyn, do you know who that is?” Michael asks me, raising his eyebrows at me in excitement.

“Um, no. Just some random dude in the woods.”

“Look, he’s on the news right now. Talking about you.”

I sit straight up and stare at the television. “What? Who is he?”

“He’s the lead guitarist of Ashes and Embers. They’re a kick-ass rock band and they all grew up around here. How did you not know who he was?”

I shake my head, completely dazed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I even know their music. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t tell me he was in some famous band. He told me he was a bike mechanic.”

I grab the remote from Michael and turn the volume of the TV up. Storm is being interviewed by a female news host. He’s wearing jeans, a white button-down shirt—mostly unbuttoned—a black leather jacket, and the damned smoky kohl guyliner!

“So, Storm, we’re all aware of your reputation as being a rock and roll sex god. What exactly happened with you and this woman trapped in your truck for two days? I’m sure you found ways to pass the time.” She winks at him and smiles at the camera.

My eyes bug out. Did she really just ask him that?

Storm shakes his head and smirks. “Absolutely nothing.”

Newsgirl persists. “Come on now. You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?”

Storm crosses his leg, putting his foot up on his knee. “Nothing happened at all. She wasn’t my type.”

“So, you have a type?” Her fake smile is so sickening, I want to reach through the television and punch her.

Storm laughs. “Not really. But I’m not into annoying chicks, and this girl was (bleeping) annoying as hell. She just wouldn’t shut the (bleep) up. Dealing with her was way worse than worrying about freezing to death.”

The newsgirl laughs and touches his arm flirtatiously. My heart sinks. “She sounds terrible, Storm. You poor thing!”

Michael turns to me with a look of fake shock on his face. “You drove Storm Valentine crazy? What the hell did you do to this guy?”

“Nothing! He was a total asshole!”

I jump off the bed, grab my cell phone, and head for the bathroom.

“Can you try to get some concert tickets from him? I’d love to go! They’re one of my favorite bands!” Michael yells after me as I slam the door and lock myself in.

I can’t believe this! How could he call me annoying like that? On television! Is that really what he thought of me?

I find his number in my phone and press dial. He answers on the third ring.

“Evelyn?” Obviously, he must have my name programmed into his phone, too.

“You asshole! I just saw you on television! You never told me who you were! I can’t believe what a freakin’ liar you are! And you totally just disrespected me on TV by calling me annoying! You could have just said it to my face, ya know. You didn’t have to pretend to be my friend while you were hating on me inside, and then go on television and talk shit about me.”

There are a few moments of silence and I think he’s hung up on me.

“Are you done?” he finally asks.

“Yes. For now.”

“Look, I really didn’t want to have this convo on the phone, but since you’re having an epic meltdown, I guess this is how it’s going down. I didn’t lie to you, first of all. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

“Oh, so lies by omission are acceptable? Come on, Storm.”

“Could you shut up for a few minutes and let me explain?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Explain.” I sit down on the bathroom floor. My throat feels tight and my eyes are burning with tears.

“First, I really am a motorcycle mechanic. That’s true. I’m in a bike club, and I help build and fix some of the bikes for the members at my buddies’ bike shop. And yes, I’m in a band, too, and we’re getting pretty big, but I left that part out, and I’m sorry. But when I realized you didn’t know who I was, I kind of liked it. You were yelling at me, and having your little crazy fits. I can’t remember the last time I was with a chick who just treated me like a normal guy. Or who just acted like a normal girl and wasn’t a stuck-up model with fake body parts. All they care about is dating a musician, hanging out backstage, going to the parties, the money, and all that crazy shit. It was nice to spend a weekend as just a regular guy again, and see if you would like me just for me. That’s all. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”

Wow. My anger starts to slowly fade away. I can sort of understand what he’s saying and why he didn’t tell me the truth, but I still feel like he deceived me and was making fun of me in his mind the entire time we were together.

“But on television, you said I was annoying.” My voice cracks and I can’t talk anymore without starting to cry.

“Evelyn, I didn’t mean that. You gotta understand. I have a reputation. It’s part of the act. And I wanted to protect you. I don’t want anyone to find out who you are. They will hound the shit out of you. I mean, you were a little annoying, but I think you know I liked it.” I can hear him smile through the phone. “So, tell me . . .” he lowers his voice, “did you like being with me, Evie?”

My heart starts to beat faster. “Storm, you know I can’t—”

“Just answer. Don’t think.”

I can’t answer him because I really don’t know. My brain and heart are too confused to sort it out. My body definitely liked him, but I’m just not sure if it’s more than that. I’m not sure how to tell if it’s just lust or something more happening inside me. Feeling anything for another man is entirely new territory for me, and I have no idea how to accept it or rationalize it. The only way I can really describe it is tingly, but I can’t tell him that. Hey, you make me tingly!

I hear him cover the phone and mumble something to someone. “Shit, I have to go, Evie. Watch my next interview at two on channel five, okay?”

“Another one? Are you serious?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” He ends the call and leaves me sitting there holding the phone. I really want to know why he’s doing all these interviews. Why do people have to know? Is he using our experience as some sort of promotional gimmick? I will kill him if he’s doing something so stupid and invasive and exploiting our experience.

When I come out of the bathroom, Michael isn’t in the bedroom anymore, so I get dressed and go downstairs to find him sitting at the kitchen table, drinking some coffee and reading the paper. I always laugh inside when I see him reading the paper because who really does that anymore? You can read all of it online now and not get black ink all over your fingers.

“Evelyn, I could shit a brick. I can’t believe you were with Storm Valentine all weekend.”

I can feel my cheeks get red. “Michael, I was not with him. I was stuck in a truck with him in a blizzard. We pretty much argued the entire time. He’s a little obnoxious and a lot in love with himself.” I pour myself a little coffee, even though I know it will taste like crap because it’s not my coveted white mocha.

“His band is kick-ass. I can’t wait to tell the guys.”

I shake my head frantically and almost spit my coffee out. “Michael, no. Please. Don’t tell people. I just want to forget this.”

“Evelyn, don’t be a baby. It’s pretty much the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you. Can you find out about getting us into one of his concerts?”

“It’s not exactly at the forefront of my mind, Michael, but I guess I could find out.” I am totally not ever going to ask Storm if we can have free tickets to his concert. I refuse to be that person.

Michael stands up, grabs his coffee cup, and kisses my forehead on his way to place his cup in the sink. “I’m going to the office. Call the car place and find out when your car will be ready, okay?”

“I will.”

As soon as Michael leaves, I high tail it to my laptop and start to Google Storm. There’s a ton of band photos, the usual stage photos of him playing with smoky fog surrounding him under glowing red lights. There are literally pages of photos showing him with different women. Some blonde, some brunette, some with purple hair, all of them gorgeous and incredibly sexy. Jealousy starts to boil inside me at seeing so many photos of him with girls wound around him like horny snakes. He definitely looks wasted in many of the photos, too. I keep searching until I find a page with a biography that seems to be fan-made:

Storm Valentine, the lead guitarist of the up-and-coming New Hampshire rock band Ashes and Embers, was born in February of 1984. Many people think his name is a fictional stage name, but it’s actually his birth name. The band is made up of brothers and cousins. Storm started playing guitar at the age five. He was in the band Wrecked in his early twenties, but the band crumbled due to several of the members ending up in rehab, Storm included. He was recruited into Ashes and Embers by his older brother Asher, one of the original founders of the band, four years ago when the original lead guitarist left for personal reasons.

Storm is a notorious playboy and has been linked to several supermodels and porn stars. Storm married his high school sweetheart when they were both just seventeen years old. However, tragically, she committed suicide a year later, while three months pregnant. Sources say the girl was bi-polar. It was after this, that Storm developed a severe drug and alcohol problem, which almost ruined his career. Our sources say he is sober now, but is extremely private about his personal life. Sadly, it appears almost every member (both past and present) of Ashes and Embers has been struck by some sort of tragedy.

I sink back into my chair and stare at the screen. I want to take back reading all of this and erase it from my mind, but it’s too late. I didn’t want to know any of it. I had no right to know any of it unless he chose to share it with me. But there it was, on a web page for the entire world to see. I simply can’t imagine him as a teenager, so crazy in love that he got married at seventeen, or dealing with the suicide of his wife and loss of his child at the age of eighteen.

Halo jumps up on my lap and I hug him close to me. I want to call Storm so bad, but I don’t even know what I would say. What could I say? Nothing at all. I vow to never tell him I read this. If he wants me to know, he will tell me.

Instead, I call the garage. Seth tells me my car will be ready tomorrow, and Storm has covered the bill. What the hell? I can’t allow him to do that. I’m going to have to find a way to pay him back.

I mope around until two, and then I turn on the television, afraid to even watch this next interview. I swear, if he goes on about how annoying I am, I will strangle him. I watch the cereal commercial that’s on and then there’s Storm, hanging out on a couch with another beautiful blonde newswoman.

She starts right in with her cheery smile and amazingly white teeth. “We’re here today with Storm Valentine, lead guitarist of rock band Ashes and Embers, who was driving in the terrible snow storm last weekend and tried to give a ride to a young woman who was stuck on the side of the road. As luck would have it, the two crashed and were trapped inside his truck for forty-eight hours. Storm, tell us a little bit more about this crazy weekend you had. How did you get through that?”

“Well, it was pretty crazy. Luckily, I had a whole bunch of (bleeping) food in the back of my truck so we were able to eat and drink water, which sorta froze. I had my dog with me, too, and he was basically eating Ritz crackers the whole (bleeping) time.”

“How did you keep from freezing to death out there? I understand your truck was totally dead?”

“Yeah, it was way (bleeping) dead. We crashed into a tree, and I have no (bleeping) idea how we weren’t killed. Any(bleeping)way, I had this huge blanket in the truck that the dog sleeps on, so me and the chick covered ourselves with that and luckily, it kept us pretty warm.”

She smiles knowingly at him. “Come clean with us, Storm. All the ladies know you are irresistible. What happened under the blanket? Surely you found multiple ways to keep warm?”

Storm is puffing on an e-cig and blowing the vapor into the interviewer’s face. I can’t help but laugh. She makes a face at him and waves the vapor smoke with her hand. “I know what you and these other vultures are trying to get out of me, and it ain’t happening. That chick isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. She’s not the type of girl to (bleep) in the back of a truck.”

“Well, it’s nice to know there are still some classy women around, Storm. Did she know who you were?”

“No. She was completely (bleeping) clueless, and it was (bleeping) awesome. It was nice to be around a chick who wasn’t trying to suck my dick, ya know? By the way, our new CD comes out next month, so y’all should check it. It’s (bleeping) kick-ass.” The audience starts to laugh and cheer.

The woman looks like she wants to die. “I’m pretty sure you can’t say that on this show, Storm.”

Storm laughs and takes a drag on his e-cig, the blue tip glowing. “I just (bleeping) did.”

The interviewer turns to the camera. “Well, that wraps up our interview with Storm Valentine. Ashes and Embers newest CD comes out next month, and the band will be touring in the spring.”

Well, at least he didn’t call me annoying. And he made me sound much more flattering. Way to do damage control, Storm.

My phone beeps with a text message alert.

Storm: Can I call you?

Me: Why?

Storm: For fuck’s sake. You argue in text, too?

Me: We have nothing to talk about. Thank you for paying for my car. I will pay you back.

Storm: No. It’s nothing. Is Michael there? I want to talk to you.

Me: He’s at work.

Seconds later, my phone rings. Grrr.

“Hello?” I always feel stupid saying hello when I can clearly see who’s calling on the ID.

“Did you like my interview?”

“Yes, that one was much better. Especially you blowing vapor into her face. When did you start smoking e-cigs? Those would have been much more convenient while we were stuck in your truck, don’t ya think?”

“So fucking true. I just started them yesterday. I’m gonna try to quit smoking. These are way more fun. I can smoke anywhere.”

I close my eyes and slowly shake my head. “Thank you for paying for my car. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Stop. I wanted to. As you now know, I have money. I can throw a few thousand at a friend. It’s not going to hurt me.”

“Well, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Storm, we really shouldn’t be talking. I feel really shitty about what happened between us. I need to focus on Michael. I’m sorry.”

“You never answered my question.”

“Which question?”

I can hear him taking a drag off the electric cigarette. “Did you like being with me?”

I start to pace around the living room with the phone. Why does he keep doing this to me? I don’t want to be cornered like this.

“Yes, Storm. I enjoyed some of our time together, when you weren’t being an ass or luring me into an orgasm. Okay?”

“That’s a start. I want us to be friends. Why is that so bad?”

“It’s not. We can be friends.”

“Did you miss me last night? Not sleeping next to me?”

Truth be told, I tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable or fall asleep even though I was exhausted. I missed his closeness. I missed the warmth of him next to me, the scent of his fancy shampoo. I could still feel the pull to him; it’s just he wasn’t there to get pulled against. Michael’s body next to me felt like an invasion, an intruder of sorts.

“Evie?”

“Storm, stop it.”

“I missed having you next to me. I missed you holding my hand the way you do.” His voice is doing the raspy thing it does when he’s serious about what he’s saying. The rasp comes out when he’s emotional, whether he’s happy, sad, mad or sexual. It goes right through me. Knowing what I now know, my heart hurts for him. I understand grief all too well, and I have a bad feeling Storm masked his grief in drugs, alcohol and women. The problem is, I want to hold his hand again and show him love in a thousand ways. Despite his protests of relationships, I think he really does want closeness, but I’m not able to give it to him. I can’t be this man’s toy or passing phase. I can’t allow myself to love someone and then lose them, and I’m pretty damn sure he can’t, either.

“I did miss you. But that’s only because we were stuck together for two days and only had each other to focus on. It’s natural.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have to go, Storm.”

“Hey, the band is playing at the Silver Cloud next month. It’s a small local venue we used to play a lot when we first started out. Why don’t you come? Bring Michael and any friends you want, okay? It would mean a lot to me.”

Michael will be over the moon if I accept this offer. I guess it would be nice to hear the band play, too. “All right. That would be great. Michael is a big fan. We’d love to go. I’m sure Amy will, too.”

“That’s awesome. I’ll text you the details.”

“Good. I really have to go, Storm. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Evie.”

THURSDAY MORNING, I WAKE UP SICK as a dog. My throat is so swollen, it feels like a piece of raw meat when I swallow. I’m barely able to breathe through my nose and my head is literally pounding. I’m pretty sure I have a fever, too. I feel hot and clammy one minute and freezing the next. I stare at the clock next to the bed. Eleven A.M. I can’t believe I slept so late. Slowly sitting up, my head feels like a bowling ball, and the room is spinning. Shit. I really do not have time to be sick.

I call Michael’s office. “It’s me,” I croak into the phone when he answers.

“Did you just wake up? You sound awful.”

I cough into the phone. “I feel like I’m dying. Can you take me over to urgent care? I’ll never get an appointment with my doctor today. I think I need some meds. I feel like I have strep throat.”

“Evelyn, I’m at work.”

“I don’t have a car, Michael.”

“Fuck. How the hell are we going to get your car home?”

“You were supposed to drive me there to get it.” I cough again and my throat feels like it’s on fire. “Can you take me to urgent care and then for my car?”

“Evelyn, it’s just a cold. Don’t be a hypochondriac.”

“Michael, I’m not.” I hate when he does this to me. Like I want to sit here and pretend to be sick just for attention. “Michael, please. I really don’t feel well, and I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow. I need to get some meds so I can feel better.”

“I’m leaving this afternoon. I have to fly back to the office in South Carolina. I’ll be there until Sunday.”

“Michael? Really? I just got home. I have hardly seen you at all. Do you really have to go?” I don’t want him to leave again, especially when I feel sick. I have a huge fear of passing out, cracking my head open and lying on the floor bleeding to death.

“Babe, I don’t have time for this. I told you my job was going to be really busy with the new software platform.”

A coughing fit takes over for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Mike. I’m not trying to bother you, really. I just need a little help. Please? Can you just take me to the doctor? I don’t care about the car right now.”

He’s silent for a few moments, but I can hear him rustling stuff around on his desk. “All right, all right. I’m going to take my lunch break now and come home for you. I’ll take you to urgent care real quick, okay? But then I have to get back here and catch my flight this afternoon. You’re going to have to see if Amy can take you for your car, or maybe the garage can drive it to our house for you if we pay them. Get dressed. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Love you.”

I feel dismissed, but at least he agreed to take me to the doctor, which is a good thing because my visit doesn’t go so well. According to the doctor, and the tests she put me through, I have a high fever and am suffering from dehydration and exhaustion on top of an extremely bad cold and walking pneumonia. She gives me antibiotics, cough medicine, some supplements to take, and faxes a note over to my boss saying I can’t return to work until next Wednesday—if I feel better by then. My boss will have a cow, for sure. If I have a job by next week, it will be a miracle. In the meantime, she says I need to get as much rest as possible and drink a lot of water and juice.

On the way home, Michael stops at a convenience store and buys me orange juice and a few cans of soup. He plants a quick kiss on the top of my head after he parks his car in front of our condo. “I have to get back to the office. My flight leaves at five. Just go rest, and I’ll call you later, okay?”

I smile weakly at him through my hot and dizzy sick daze. “Thank you. I’m going to go inside and lie down. I’m sorry I interrupted your day.”

“It’s all right, Evelyn. I’m sorry to be rushing you around. I know I seem like a dick, but I’m really stressed out at work.” He grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I know you’ve had a rough time lately. I promise when things settle down, I’ll make this up to you, okay? We’ll go away for a long weekend.”

“I would really like that. Now, you go so you don’t miss your flight. I’m not going to kiss you goodbye because I don’t want to spread germs. Call me later.” I grab my bag of juice and soup and go inside.

I try to remember the last time Michael and I had a vacation together. It must be about four years ago—give or take a year. We used to go away for long weekends together to the beach, but when he was promoted, he became so wrapped up in his job and he could never really commit to taking an entire weekend away from it. I don’t even think that was a conscious decision on his part at all; it just kind of happened that way. He slowly took on more and more work, started to travel more to visit clients, and when he did have some free time on the weekends, he wanted to use the time to relax by golfing with his friends or just watching the game on television. Which is totally fine, of course, but I would be a liar if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t spend a whole lot of time together anymore.

Amy and I used to hang out on the weekends together, but since she broke up with her boyfriend of five years a few months ago, she is now on a dating frenzy every weekend. I would need a matrix to try to keep track of all the different men she is currently juggle-dating. Unfortunately, most of them turn out to be total jerks after the third date, or at least that’s what she keeps saying. She hasn’t let me meet any of them yet, so I can’t do my own evaluation.

I drag out a big, comfy blanket and pillow from the closet, throw on a tank top and yoga pants, and get all comfy on the couch. I always feel weird sleeping upstairs when Michael is away. I guess in a way I’m afraid to be alone, and I feel safer downstairs. Which is ridiculous, I suppose, as living in a condo there are people pretty much right through the walls on both sides of us.

My cell phone buzzing next to me wakes me up. I grope around and find it has fallen behind the couch cushion. It must be Michael calling to tell me he’s at the hotel.

“Hello?” My voice comes out mostly in a ragged squeak.

“Evie? What the hell is wrong with your voice?”

My heart jumps a little. It’s Storm. I take a breath and tell my heart to calm the hell down.

“I’m sick. Why are you calling me?”

“Sick, how? You sound like pure shit.”

“Thanks. I went to the doctor. I have the flu and dehydration and exhaustion or something. And pneumonia.”

“Holy shit, from the weekend?”

I take a sip of water to try to ease the pain in my throat. “Yes, I guess that started it.”

Admittedly, I purposely didn’t drink a lot while in the truck because I was afraid of having to pee too much and having to make Storm carry me outside to go to the bathroom like a weird dog. I thought by just drinking a little bit, I would be totally fine. Guess not.

“Are you okay? You don’t sound too hot. You sound pretty wasted, actually.”

“I’m fine, really. I just have to rest; the doctor gave me some pills to take and they’re making me tired. I have to stay home until next Wednesday. My boss is throwing a total fit.”

“Fuck that douche.”

“It’s my job, Storm. I kind of need it. So, why are you calling exactly?”

“Seth called and told me you never came to pick up your car. I wanted to see what was up.”

“Michael had to go out of town, so he couldn’t drive me up there to pick it up. I’ll have to deal with it next week. I’m sorry, Storm. I know Seth is your friend and you guys did me a favor taking care of it. I didn’t know I was going to get sick and that Michael had to travel again.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about that at all. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I’ll let Seth know. I’m worried about you, though. So, you’re home alone?”

“That sounds creepy, but yes, I am here alone. Well, the cat is here, of course. Where are you? Are you at the cabin?”

“No. I’m at my other house.”

‘Other house’ must be nice. How many houses could he have? I can’t even imagine having several places to live. The concept of getting out of just one house and getting into another one is hard enough for me to deal with right now, let alone achieve.

“Well, thanks for calling about the car. I’ll get it straightened out and out of Seth’s way as soon as I can. I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Get some rest and make sure you drink enough water.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

I hang up before he can say anything else. I don’t understand why he keeps contacting me. I feel like we really shouldn’t be talking to each other anymore. There really isn’t a reason to, is there? Deep inside, a part of me likes when he calls me, though. I like feeling as if he is thinking of me.

I notice I have a text from Michael. It must have come through while I was on the phone.

Michael: I’m here. I don’t want to call in case you’re sleeping. Let me know if you’re okay.

Me: I’m okay, just really tired from the meds. Call me in the morning. Love you.

Michael: Love you. Feel better.

My throat is freaking on fire. I want tea and honey so bad, but I don’t feel like I can walk all the way to the kitchen and boil water. I glance at Halo sleeping on my feet. “Halo, why can’t you be like those cats on the internet and do amazing tricks? Like make tea?” He blinks at me in the way only cats can. I wave at him.

When I realized Halo was deaf as a tiny kitten, I started to make hand signals at him. It’s definitely not sign language, but it’s our own little communication and I think he likes it. I realize the fever is allowing really random thoughts to seep in and out of my mind.

A warm, soft hand is gently touching my forehead. Mom always felt my forehead when I was sick and placed a cool cloth on my it. I feel her sit next to me on the couch. I’m so glad she’s here to take care of me.

“Mom?” I open my eyes. The room is dark with just the dim glow of the television.

“No, baby, it’s me. You’re burning up.”

Somehow, Storm is in my house, sitting on my couch. Touching my forehead.

I want to yell and jump up, but I can barely move. My entire body hurts and feels like lead.

“Storm . . . what are you . . . how did you get in?” I mumble groggily.

“I picked your front door lock when you didn’t answer. You really need a security system in this place. I got inside in, like, less than two minutes.”

Is he kidding? He broke into my house? I must be dreaming this. I close my eyes and count to five. When I open them, he’ll be gone. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He’s still here.

“Take these.” He hands me two pills and holds a glass of water to my mouth. “You don’t look good.” I swallow the pills and hand him the glass. I really hope that was my prescription I just swallowed and not some crazy pills he’s giving me.

I let my head fall back onto the pillow. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to make you some tea. I brought you soup, Gatorade, cough drops, flavored water, ice cream, sherbet . . .”

“Storm . . . you can’t be here.”

He’s already on his way to the kitchen, lugging all the grocery bags. “Too late,” he yells from the kitchen. “Just sit there and be quiet.”

I can’t believe he is here, in my house, making tea and putting groceries into my kitchen. I don’t know if I should be pissed off or grateful. I think I will settle for both right now, since I feel so crappy I can’t even muster up the strength to tell him he has to leave. And of course, here I am looking absolutely horrible with no makeup on.

A few minutes later, he strolls back into the living room with a cup of tea, hands it to me, and then pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up. “Look what I got! For Halo.” It’s a tiny fuzzy mouse. “Look what it does.” He pokes it with his finger and it lights up. “I thought he would like this. It’s interactive.”

“He will love that. That’s really cute. He’s sleeping, but put it next to him, and he’ll probably play with it when he wakes up.” He gently places the toy next to Halo on the chair across the room and then sits on the floor next to the couch. My heart swoons. A rock star just gave my cat a toy. Seriously, what could be cuter?

“Drink the tea, Ev. You’ll feel better.”

The tea is made perfectly with honey and just a tiny touch of milk. It feels like Heaven on my throat.

“What are you doing here?” I ask softly.

He pushes his hair out of his face, tucks it behind his ear and grins at me. “You were alone. And you sounded pretty bad.” He shrugs. “I thought maybe you shouldn’t be alone. I know you get nervous.”

I nod slowly at him over my teacup, inhaling the steam into my nose. I’m not sure what to say to him. I feel like we keep being pulled back to each other, and I’m not entirely sure I don’t like it.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks me. “And think about all the good stuff I just bought you before you say yes. I even bought you those really soft tissues. And, like, five different kinds of cough drops.”

I shake my head.

“Evie, I’m not good at talking about my feelings and shit, but I kind of feel like I should take care of you. Can I just hang out here until tomorrow? Otherwise, I’m gonna sit around and worry about you, and I’m tired. I’ll just crash here on the floor.”

I can’t help but wonder if his feelings of wanting to take care of me stem from what happened to his wife. That is not a territory I want to tread into at all.

“We have a guest room down the hall,” I say. “Please, sleep there, not on the floor.”

“Are you sure? I can sleep right here. I sleep on floors all the time when we tour.”

I had forgotten about his band and touring and all the stuff I know nothing about. “No, you are not sleeping on the floor. Get up and go sleep in the guest room.”

“I could sleep on the couch with you, like we did in the truck.” He winks at me and lays his head on my lap. I instinctively touch his hair, tangling my fingers in it. I really do want him to lie on the couch with me and feel his arms around me again. It would be so easy to fall asleep against him, all woozy from the meds and fever. But I can’t let that happen.

“We can’t do that,” I whisper.

Disappointment washes over his face as he stands up. “All righty. I’m gonna go down the hall. Call for me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

“Are you sleeping here on the couch, or are you going to your room?”

“I like it here.”

He starts to walk away, but I call after him, my voice hoarse and scratchy, “Storm?” He turns and looks back at me. “I’m glad you’re here.” Before I can blink, he’s next to me again, bending down next to my face.

“If you weren’t sick, I’d beg you to show me how glad you are, and then I’d show you how glad I am.” A surge of heat having nothing to do with my fever rushes through my body and settles between my legs. He kisses my cheek and walks away. Damn him! How does he twist up my insides so bad? I can’t help but watch his ass as he swaggers across the room and disappears down the hallway to the guest room.

Hot damn! That man wears jeans well.

It’s so odd how I can feel him in the house. There is like an energy that comes off him, and I can feel it in every pore of my body. He’s like a warm plate of just-baked cookies, the yummy scent irresistible, begging you to try to take just one.

I am obviously so delirious I am now comparing sexy men to chocolate chip cookies. Lord, help me. I need to either get laid or go on a diet. Possibly both.

IT’S A GOOD THING ALL THE meds are making me sleepy, because otherwise, I do not think I would have been able to sleep knowing Storm was just down the hall. Having him in my house gives me mixed feelings of excitement and fear. What if Michael finds out and accuses me of cheating on him? Although, he seems pretty crazy about Storm and his band, so maybe he wouldn’t even care if he knew he was here. I don’t think he’d be happy knowing there is some kind of sexual tension between us and he got me off twice, though, even though I didn’t want to. That alone should be enough for me to tell Storm he has to leave.

I always do the right thing. That’s who I am. I’m honest, loyal, committed. The good girl.

But now, I kind of like being a little bit bad. Being so close to something I shouldn’t be close to is a thrill I’ve never felt before. Storm makes me feel things I’ve only read about in books, feelings I didn’t think existed in real life. I like having this little tiny piece of sexy and sweet taboo in my world. I keep trying to push him out of my head, but he’s like a boomerang that just flings right back.

“How do you feel?”

I’m so lost in my own thoughts I don’t even realize he’s standing there. I don’t feel better at all. In fact, I feel a whole lot worse. “Huh?”

“Focus. Do you feel any better? You look really pale.”

I shake my head and go into a coughing fit. My ribs are killing me from coughing so much. He stands there watching me, wearing his jeans and no shirt. His long hair is all bed-head, which only makes him even more sexy and kind of adorable, like a little kid who needs a haircut. Every time I see him shirtless, I feel like I lose control of my own eyes. I know I should look away, but I can’t. My eyes just keep going back to roam over his inked flesh like he’s some kind of hot train wreck. He knows I’m looking at him like that, and I can see he’s torn between being concerned about me being sick and making a sarcastic, sexy comment at me.

“Did you take your medicine?” Surprisingly, he took the concern option.

“Not yet.”

“Good. I’m going to make you something. You mind if I touch some stuff in your kitchen?”

I reach for a tissue and blow my nose. “Have at it,” I say, vaguely worried about what ‘touch stuff’ could actually entail. I feel gross, and I’m sure I look even grosser. I hear him rummaging around and then the whirl of the blender fills the air. What the hell is he doing, and why did I agree to this? I have no appetite at all, so whatever he’s concocting in there, I’m sure I’m not going to be able eat it.

A few minutes later, he’s handing me a glass with what looks like an orange smoothie, like the kind you get at the mall that’s so yummy. “Oh, wow!” I say and take a sip. It’s actually delicious. “This is sooo good.” I take another sip. “What’s in this?”

He’s beaming over the fact I love his fuzzy orange drink. “It’s orange juice, a little bit of milk, and honey.”

“It’s fabulous! Thank you.”

He points to the meds on the coffee table next to me. “Take your meds. You sound worse than yesterday.”

“They make me tired.”

“I don’t care, rest is good for you. Sleep all fucking day if you want.”

I down the pills with a gulp of the orange deliciousness. Meanwhile, he’s typing like mad on his cell phone and looks annoyed at it. He looks up and shoves his phone into his back pocket. “Should I feed the cat? Do you want some breakfast?”

I stare at him like he’s from another planet. Why is he doing this? Why is he even here?

“No, I’m fine. You should really be going.”

I hear his phone beep and he yanks it out once again, glances at the screen, makes a face, and shoves it back into jeans again.

“And you look sort of busy anyway,” I say, wondering who he’s texting with. Probably his fuckbuddy, wondering where he is. “So, maybe you should go and take care of whatever it is famous rock stars do. Like blondes with big boobs.”

He tilts his head at me and makes a face. “Really? You’re gonna go there?” he says. “Don’t say shit like that to me, okay? I just want to be me when I’m with you. This is why I didn’t want you to know what I do. I’m not a rock star. I’m just some asshole who plays the guitar.”

Eek. Touched a nerve, it seems. “Storm, you’re not an asshole. Not always, anyway. I just thought you’d have better things to do than hang around a sick person and play nurse.”

“If I did, that’s what I’d be doing.”

I put my hand up in defense. “Okay, okay. Calm down. And put a shirt on, please.”

Instead, he sits on the edge of the couch beside me, putting one hand on the pillow next to my head so he’s partially leaning over me. He takes my hand in his and presses my palm against his chest, holding it over his heart. I can feel it beating while my own is pounding harder in my chest. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it there against him.

“Touch me,” he breathes. He’s not asking me to, he’s telling me to. He releases my hand, and I slowly run my fingers over his chest. He gently touches my cheek and leans down toward me. I think he’s going to kiss me and my mind starts to race. I look terrible. My breath must be awful. I’m full of germs. It’s cheating. My hand wanders up to grip his broad shoulder. So much muscle. I want to touch him everywhere and explore every beautiful part of him.

“You look scared.” His voice is soft and even. I nod a little. Yes, I’m scared. Scared he will kiss me, and scared he won’t. I’m lost in his gaze, trapped against the couch.

A faint smile touches his lips. “I like you scared. It makes me want to do things to you.” My stomach flips and my eyes widen. Things? What kind of things? And while I feel scared, it’s not the kind of scared like when you see someone creepy in a dark alley. No. This is a pulsing, electric fear that flips a switch deep inside me, making my heart beat even faster and sending shivers up and down my spine. I peek up at him to meet his eyes. They’re dark and smoky and honed right in on me.

“You have two hands,” he hints.

I raise my free hand to his arm, slowly moving it up toward his neck before I do the same with my other hand. His skin is so warm and smooth. I run my hands up and down his inked arms and chest. There is something really fascinating about touching someone who is covered in tattoos, like caressing artwork. He’s waiting, but for what I don’t know. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I love the way you touch me, Evie. Everything you feel comes right through your fingers, and I don’t even think you realize it. I felt it when you were touching my hand in the truck. And I feel it now.”

I quickly pull my hands away. I should not be touching him or making him feel all the things I feel. His eyes open and stare down at me for a moment. “I’m going to let you stop because you’re sick.” Let me? Let me?

“Storm . . .”

He leans down even closer to me, and I brace myself for his kiss, but he doesn’t kiss me. “You will touch me, Evie. I want to feel your hands all over me because it’s like a drug for me right now and I need it.” He leans his forehead against mine. “And I’m going to make you beg me to let you because I need that, too.” His lips meet mine so softly . . . so briefly . . . that when he pulls away and walks out of the room, I’m left wondering if it actually really happened.

What the. . . . ?

All this talk of touching and making me beg has my girly parts in a quivery, wet mess. What the hell just happened? He can’t just come into my home while I’m sick—breaking and entering, mind you—and tell me I’m going to be touching him and beg for it. Now I hear the shower running. Is he seriously taking a shower now after getting me all in a frenzy? He’s completely bat-shit crazy. I need to get him out of here before I lose my mind and do something stupid. Especially if he thinks he’s going to boss me around while I’m sick and not able to even think straight.

I text Michael.

Me: I feel like shit. Going to rest all day. Miss you

Michael: K. In a meeting. Feel better. Call me later. MY2

I stare at my lie on the tiny screen. I don’t miss him. This fact sinks into me slowly and then spreads from my mind all the way down to my heart, finally plunging deeply into my stomach like a heavy rock.

I stand and go upstairs to wash up in my bathroom and put clean clothes on. I look a mess—red nose, watery eyes, clammy skin. Just great. I go back downstairs with Halo hot on my heels and fill his little dishes with food and fresh water.

“You should be resting. Get back on the couch.” I’m both relieved and disappointed he’s fully clothed now in jeans and a t-shirt.

“You have to go now,” I tell him. “Thank you for everything, but I’m okay.”

He leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms defiantly. “When is Michael coming back?”

“Sunday.”

“Then I’m staying until Saturday night.”

“No. You can’t do that.” I head back to the couch because I’m feeling dizzy again, but he follows me just like the cat.

“I’m not leaving you alone when you’re sick. It’s not cool.”

“Storm, I’m not a baby. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” I lie on the couch and pull my blanket up over me.

“Then it’s time you give someone else a turn. Look, next month I go on tour and it’s going to be fucking chaotic. I like hanging out with you. We can watch movies and eat ice cream. We’ll take naps like we did in the truck. I want to veg like a normal person for a while before I go on tour.”

I swear, I think he wants to be back in his truck, trapped. Maybe in a way I do, too. As much as we annoyed each other, I liked our little bubble of us.

“Come on . . .” he begs, giving me his sad puppy eyes.

Truthfully, I really don’t want him to go. Partly because I hate being alone when I don’t feel well, and partly because I kind of like having him around. Plus, I’m not really ready to never see him again, or give up whatever it is we are.

I finally give in. “All right, but I have some rules. No more touching or inappropriate behavior. Okay? I have a boyfriend, and you need to respect that. I’m not a slut, and I don’t like you trying to turn me into one.”

He looks visibly insulted. “Evelyn, I would never, ever want you to be a slut. Unless you’re my slut.” He quirks his eyebrow up.

I suppress a giggle. “Good. I’m going to ignore that last part. And no more picking locks. That is seriously creepy, not to mention illegal.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Whatever. No more of that. You can’t just do whatever you want. There are certain boundaries, okay? I would like us to be friends. Real friends. I will not be some toy for you when you’re bored, though. So if that’s your plan, you can just leave.”

“I don’t get bored,” he deadpans. “And I have enough toys.”

“Good, then we shouldn’t have any issues.”

He lifts my feet off the couch, sits where they were, and then puts my feet on top of his legs.

“You can sit over there in the chair, ya know. Or on the loveseat.” I motion over to the other furniture in the room that is currently unoccupied by a sniveling person.

“I’m fine here.”

Unwrapping a cough drop, I shrug at him and pop it into my mouth.

“Why don’t you want me?” he blurts out, as if he can’t even fathom it. I laugh at the sheer audacity of his question, but he doesn’t laugh or smile at all. He’s completely serious as he waits for me to stop giggling, much like a parent waits for a child to stop acting like an idiot so they can continue being serious.

I force myself to stop laughing. “Excuse me?”

He says it slower this time, like maybe I didn’t understand it the first time. “Why. Don’t. You. Want. Me?”

“Storm, are you really this used to women just throwing themselves at you? Am I really the first woman who hasn’t come running to you, tongue wagging, legs spread?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

“Well, I’m sorry to hurt your amazingly large ego and obvious world record.”

“Evelyn, I’m serious. Just tell me why.” He’s still not laughing.

“I . . . okay, I’ll be serious.” I struggle to find the words to explain to him what I feel, but how can I do that when I don’t even understand it myself? “I hated you at first. I thought you were really strange and pretty much an asshole. But now, I like you. I want us to be friends. You make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I like the attention you give me, I guess. And yes, I’m attracted to you. I mean, look at you. But I have a boyfriend. I have never been a cheater. And you . . . like you said, you don’t do relationships. You have your fuckbuddies. I think you like that I’m a bit of a conquest for you. I just don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be some sort of fun challenge for you, so you can see how far you can push me and how much you can mess with my head and body before I give in and sleep with you, and then you move on, leaving me a huge mess.”

“Why do you make it all sound so bad? What’s wrong with setting your sights on something or someone who’s a bit out of reach?” His hand massages my foot absently as he talks.

“Nothing, if that’s what two people are into. What I’m trying to say, is I don’t want to be part of that. It’s not me. Yes, I’m attracted to you, if that makes you feel better. You seem to need to hear it. But, I really don’t believe you’re attracted to me. Look at me. I’m like five feet tall with hardly any boobs, pale skin, and I’ve been a mess since the day we met. I am not the supermodel you’re used to.”

He squeezes my foot. “Evelyn, I am attracted to you. I think you’re fucking adorable. I’m sick of girls like that—”

“See?” I interrupt. “You’re bored. You want something new.”

He runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Why do you make things so hard? I don’t sit around and analyze my feelings. I just go after what I want. I think you’re miserable with Michael. He seems to treat you like fucking shit.”

“That doesn’t mean I should jump into bed with you!”

“I know that. Did you ever think you’re just wasting time with him?”

“No.”

“Do you really think if I just wanted to fuck you and leave you, I’d be here taking care of you?”

“No . . . at least, I hope not. And I appreciate that you’re taking care of me, but I’m not going to sleep with you in return.”

“That’s not what I want, Evie. I think you know that much. You can’t deny there’s something between us, right? Am I the only one who feels a connection here?”

I stare at the wall behind him. I don’t want to answer this.

“Right?” he pushes.

“Yes, there is something.”

“There is. I don’t know what it is, either. This is new for me, too, ya know. You think I do this shit?” He waves his hand at me and my glass of orange stuff. “I’m just following what I feel and seeing where it takes me. I think you should do the same. Stop putting walls up.”

“Really? And what about my boyfriend? Of twelve years? What about that wall?”

He pulls out his little e-cig from his pocket and starts puffing on it. “I don’t fucking know, Evelyn. But after twelve years, here you are sick and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. I think I’d be taking a good, hard look at this.” He takes a long drag on his e-cig. “I like you. You’re different. I like how you make me feel. I love how shy but feisty you are. I want to fuck you stupid and watch you come undone and then fuck you back together again.”

My thighs start to burn. Yes. Do that. Whatever that is.

“Well, that’s romantic, Storm,” I say, rattled by his blatant statement. “And there is the reason why I would never be with someone like you. I don’t want to be with someone who just goes around randomly screwing girls with no regard to their commitment and values. That’s why God made sluts—so men like you can have something to keep their little one-track minds happy because they’re too shallow to have real relationships.”

Oops. He looks really pissed. He’s shaking his head at me in disbelief. “Wow, Evie. I thought you kind of knew me a little fucking bit, or at least could see that I treat you different, and I was hoping we could figure out the reason for that. Together. But fuck it.” He pushes my feet off and stands up. He points his finger from me to himself and back again. “This is why I don’t have relationships. This fucking bullshit right here.”

“I’m already in a relationship, Storm,” I remind him. My voice is strained from talking too much and coughing. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to cry, because seeing him mad and upset is slowly chipping away at my heart.

He grabs his leather jacket off the chair and pulls it on. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He heads for the door and slams it behind him.

The minute he leaves, I burst into tears. He has my head so confused. I don’t even understand what just happened or what he was trying to say, or why I even care. My words came out so much worse than I wanted them to and made me seem like a total bitch. I just feel so sick and confused! I am in no position right now to be making decisions or thinking about where I stand with people. Can’t he see that?

My phone rings and I answer it quickly, hoping maybe he’s calling to say he’s coming back.

“Hello?”

“Wow, you sound even worse than yesterday.” Michael. Dammit.

“I know . . . I feel like crap. How are your meetings going?”

“Good, everything is good. You better get some rest. You can call me later if you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, I think so.” No. Everything I need just left because I insulted him. Again.

“Okay, hon. I hope you feel better soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I’m not sure what Storm has done to me, but he’s got himself so embedded into me right now, I hate it. My life was normal before he crashed into it. I was happy and content, going through my day-to-day routine. I thought Michael and I were happy. I didn’t know I was missing out on so much feeling. I don’t even know how else to describe it. How can everything I feel and want change in just a week?

I debate calling Amy so she can talk me down, but my throat is hurting so much I don’t even think I can handle talking that much right now. I wish I could call my mom. Being trapped in the truck, not eating or drinking enough, worrying about my job, getting sick, Michael being gone, Storm confusing the hell out of me . . . It’s all just too much. My life is usually so incredibly boring. Nothing new or exciting ever happens. Now I have a rock star telling me he wants to fuck me silly. I don’t even know what that means.

I stare at my cell phone, thinking maybe I should send Storm a text and say I’m sorry. I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for, though. No. I’m not going to give in to his crazy. It’s better he’s gone. I have never been one of those girls who psycho-calls and texts men, and I’m not about to start now.

The front door opening and closing causes me to jump. “You should really lock your door,” he scolds.

I try to suppress the smile that immediately takes over my face because I don’t want him to see how glad I am that he came back. “What’s the point? You’ll just come in anyway.”

He grins at me and hands me a latte. “I got you your favorite stupid coffee. I thought maybe it would calm your shit down.”

Every part of me wants to squee over the man who brought my cat a toy and me a latte. I can’t wrap my head around him at all. How can he be so thoughtful, but not be into relationships? Does he treat his chicks like this? I have to know.

I sip the latte and thank him while he settles in the chair across the room.

“Storm, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you treat the women you’re in those non-relationships with like this?”

“Like this how?”

“You know . . . lattes, breakfast smoothies, cat toys . . . that sort of thing?”

“No. I haven’t done shit like this in a long time.” A sadness veils his eyes, and I wonder if he’s thinking of his wife. I wish I had never read that article on the Internet.

“I do appreciate it, Storm. I’m really just not used to it, and as you can see, I don’t know how to react to it.” I take another sip of the coffee.

“I know.” He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the couch against my legs again. “Let me ask you something now.” He takes the cup from my hand and puts it on the coffee table.

“Okay . . .”

“Can you give me twenty seconds of you not thinking, not analyzing, not worrying, not pushing me away? Not saying mean things trying to hide your feelings? Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll try.”

He grins at me. “Not try. I want you to do it.”

“Okay.” I smile up at him. “But only because you got me a white mocha.”

“Shhh . . .”

Before I have a chance to think, his lips are on mine, soft and lingering. Touching, then not touching. Oh, God. Don’t think. He pulls away slightly, but I lean up to meet his lips again and that’s all he needs to kiss me deeper, his tongue slowly sweeping over mine. A small gasp escapes me. Don’t think. I become breathless, drowning in his kisses. My hands go up to his neck under his long, soft hair, holding him to me. I need so much more of this, so much more of him. He grabs my hands in his, pins them down on the pillow over my head and starts to kiss me wildly, devouring my mouth with his. Holy shit. I wish I didn’t feel sick. Pulling away slightly, he stares down at me, breathing heavy. He keeps my hands in his grasp.

“I’m going to stop now,” he says between breaths. “But I want you to do one more thing for me.” He kisses me softly again and then pulls back. “I want you to think about the idea of us. But not until I leave. I’m going to stay here until Saturday night with you, and we’re not going to talk about any of this, and I’m not going to kiss or touch you.” He lowers his lips to kiss my neck, his teeth grazing my flesh. My clit quivers in response. “I want you to come to my show next month, and I don’t give a fuck if you bring Michael and Amy or not. I want you there.” He drags his lips up my neck to my mouth. “Then I’m going to be gone for a few months, and you’re going to have a lot of time to think, Evie. When I get back, I want you to tell me what you want.” His green eyes stare down into mine. “Okay?”

I nod slowly, too stupefied to speak.

“And I don’t want you beating yourself up that you just cheated on Michael. I needed to show you what it could be like because you really have no fucking idea.” Once more, he kisses me, soft and deep. A lover’s kiss, filled with a silent desperation and urgency. My entire body is trembling from the impact of it. He lifts one of my hands to his lips and kisses it softly before letting it go.

For once, I have no idea what to say.

He hands me my coffee again. “Looks like you need this.” I take it from him and sip it absently. I can’t shake the feeling of his kisses. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to just lie here all day and kiss him, to pull his clothes off and touch him everywhere. I know he would be an amazing lover. He knows exactly how to kiss, where to kiss, and the places to touch. Michael lacks all of that. That’s just sex, though. That’s not love and commitment. I do not want to be one of his toys, no matter how good he can make me feel. As much as I don’t want to, and as wrong as I know it is, I know I’m falling hard for him. But I also know I will just end up hurt, and even worse, utterly alone.

SOMETIMES IT’S EASY TO SLIP INTO denial about what’s going on in life. It’s safer and easier to exist within the confines of what is comfortable than to venture out and allow yourself to experience new things that might shake the foundation that has become your safety net.

I think most people settle for what’s safe at least once at some point in their lives, but a person who suffers from anxiety or depression will almost always run away from goals, dreams, and new life adventures to avoid the possibility of feeling anything new and somewhat scary. It’s better to live with the known, than face the unknown. Or at least that’s what I’ve told myself for most of my life. That mantra kept me steady, unchanged, consistent, comforted.

I have lived vicariously through my best friend Amy since I was five years old. She is a risk-taker, the thrill-seeker. My window to the world I am afraid of experiencing. She has been my rock since the first day of kindergarten, when two other little girls were making fun of me for crying after my mother kissed me goodbye and left me at the door to the school. I was afraid she would never come back and I would be abandoned forever. And while it didn’t happen on that day, eventually, it did happen. Amy took my hand, told those two little girls off, and walked me into the school, never leaving my side.

“Ev, you need to listen to me.” I am listening to her. I just don’t want to hear what she’s saying. We’re at a small restaurant in town, having lunch to celebrate my feeling better and not being fired during my first week back at work.

“Amy, you don’t understand . . .”

She taps her manicured finger on her wine glass and lifts her ice blue eyes to meet mine. “I do, honey, and you know I do. I’ve been through this many times. I’ve dated a lot of men. You haven’t. You’re scared. But this guy really seems to like you. These texts he sends you? I wish men would text me nice things like that, just to ask me how my day is and to say goodnight. Instead, I get this bullshit asking me to bring them cigarettes and telling me to wear a black thong.”

“Well, you do have a fabulous ass,” I tease.

“I know, but I would still like to have a man treat me like a lady once in a while. You’re getting texts like this from a rock star, for God’s sake. I’m getting wet just thinking about it!”

“Amy!”

She flings her platinum hair back off her shoulder and sips her wine. “What? The guy is sex on a stick, Evelyn, and he’s got it bad for you. If I were you, I would not hesitate. Go directly to his bed. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“There’s more to life than sex.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Is there?”

“I want more than that, Amy. You know that.”

“Ev! He’s giving you more than that! He’s been sending you cute little text messages with smiley faces for two weeks! Who the hell does that? He took care of you while you were sick with the flu and looked like ass! He’s making a big effort here, and trust me—that is rare, honey.”

“Yeah, but why is he doing it? Don’t you think it’s an act?”

I push my salad around on my plate, my appetite still not back to what it was a month ago. I’m not sure if it’s from being sick or just my nerves being shot to hell.

“I don’t think he would go through this much effort just to put on an act to get down your pants. What would be the point? He can pretty much get any girl he wants. The dude dates models, actresses, and porn stars. If he didn’t really like you, he wouldn’t be wasting all this time, now would he? Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

Ugh. Models, actresses, and porn stars. Like I needed to be reminded of all of that.

“Evelyn, let’s get serious for a moment.” She pushes her plate away from her and leans her elbow on the table. “You know I love you like a sister. I love Michael, too. But you guys seem to have outgrown each other. He doesn’t make you laugh or take you out. He’s never home anymore. He’s completely thrown himself into work and playing golf. And that’s okay. He has every right to follow his goals. But what about your goals and dreams? You want to get married and have a baby. You want someone who makes you laugh. You want someone who will snuggle on the couch with you and watch funny movies. You need someone who will take care of you and be patient with you, but also be able to get you out of your own head. And, after years of boring, unfulfilling sex, I think a part of you is waking up and wanting a little more. Some adult romance. Some wild sex.”

“Amy!” I look around at the tables near us to make sure no one is listening to our conversation.

“It’s true, Evelyn.” She finishes off her wine. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but I have to because I love you. And I hope you don’t take this wrong because it will kill me, sweetie. I think a big part of you is holding on to Michael because he was there with you when your parents died. Your parents knew him. They liked him. I think the thought of being with a man your parents never met scares you. I think you’re scared to move on. I know it’s frightening for you to let go of someone else, Evelyn. You’ve dealt with a lot of loss. But I think you might have to be brave and let go of the security you feel with Michael and give someone else a chance, or else you are going to end up miserable. I know your mom would never want you to be in an unhappy relationship. She would want you to be with someone who excites you, and takes care of you, and sends you cute little smiley faces.”

I let out a big sigh and fidget in my chair. I hate that she’s always right.

“You’re right . . . I know you are. I’m just scared. It’s so hard to picture starting over, giving up twelve years, just so much change. I love Mike, and I know he loves me, but you’re right; we’ve become more friends and roommates. I’m not even sure when or how we got like that. I really thought we would get married, have a family . . . and now, my head is all twisted up with Storm. I mean, I’ve only known him two weeks, but we just have this connection.” I take a sip of water and shrug. “But honestly, Amy, how am I supposed to even think about being in a relationship with someone like him? He travels, he sleeps around, he has money, he has women crawling all over him, and he’s amazingly sexy. He’s practically living on a different planet compared to me. How do I fit into that? I’m just little, boring me. I can’t see it lasting . . . but he’s just so persistent that we should give it a try. I don’t know what to do.”

I can’t look at her because I know I will start to cry, and I’m afraid I might not be able to stop. She reaches across the table and holds my hand.

“I’ll always be here for you, Ev. You’re not going to be alone, I promise you. No matter what happens, I will be right here and go through it with you. Stop stressing out so much and thinking you’re not good enough for him or that you won’t fit. He’s a big boy. He knows what he wants.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you as my best friend?” A tear slides down my cheek and I quickly brush it away.

“We’re both lucky. You’ve gotten me through the worst shit ever, too. Now, I want you to get your head together, okay? Allow yourself to find happiness. And ya know what? It might not last forever, and that’s okay. The important part is that you’re happy and not spending your life in hiding. Now, I have to get back to work, but I can’t wait ‘til New Years to see the band play and finally meet Storm in person. Maybe he’ll autograph my boob.”

“That’s not even funny.”

I have a text from Storm waiting for me when I get back to my car.

Storm: Can you call me?

Me: No. I have to get back to work.

Storm: How was lunch?

Me: Good. We had a nice talk. She’s looking forward to your show. She wants you to sign her boob

Storm: LMAO I wouldn’t do that.

Me: I hope not!

Storm: I wouldn’t mind signing yours tho ;)

Me: I think I can pass on that. ;-)

Storm: Can you call me tonight? On your way home maybe?

Me: I’ll try

Storm: Try hard. I miss your voice.

Smiling, I stash my phone back in my purse and head back to the office. Today is my last day before the holiday, and then I have five days off for Christmas. We usually go to Michael’s mom and dad’s house for Christmas dinner, and I can’t say that I ever enjoy it. They just watch television and eat, argue with each other, exchange a gift or two, and then we leave. I try to get along with his mom and sister, but they are not overly friendly, so I usually occupy myself at their house by doing the dishes or reading his mom’s gossip magazines.

Growing up, my family had wonderful Christmas dinners. My mom loved the holidays. She would decorate the house while my dad would string lights all over the house and yard. He would put up those plastic lit reindeer and snowmen. As a little girl, I loved it, and I couldn’t wait to grow up and have my own house to decorate.

On my way home from work, I stop at the grocery store so I can pick up some things to cook for the next week. I’m going to bake cookies, an apple pie, and make a ham for Michael because that’s his favorite. He promised he would be home for a few days, and I want to use this time to see if we can reconnect, before I make any decisions about what I want to do. It takes two to tango, so if something is wrong in our relationship, half of it is my fault, too. Maybe, if I show him more attention, he’ll come around and show me that what we have is real and worth staying in.

My phone beeps as I’m driving home, so I check it when I stop at a red-light.

Storm: Hey, I was hoping to talk to you. I’m at the studio, but I can talk for a few.

Frowning, I throw my phone back into my bag. I’m not going to reply or call him right now. I have a car full of groceries I just bought to make all of Michael’s favorite meals over the holiday. I need to stay focused before I can make any decisions.

I beat Michael home and have almost all the groceries put away when he walks in.

“Hey.” He throws his coat over the kitchen table. “What’s all this stuff?”

I turn and smile at him as I put the last of the canned goods into the cabinet. “I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, which was a total zoo, but I got everything so I can make our favorite dinners, since we’re going to be home for a few days for the holiday. I got ham, and I’m going to make an apple pie and a pot roast—”

“Evelyn, I told you I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take time off work.”

I stand there like an idiot holding a twelve-inch salami in one hand and a block of cheddar in the other. “But you said you were going to put a request in.”

“I know, and I talked to my boss about it, but it’s not a good time.”

My heart is sinking as he stands there eating one of the apples I bought for the pie. I can already see where this conversation is going, and I wish I could press the pause button and just make it stop. Disappointment is like a snake. It slithers in slowly. You can see it coming out of the corner of your eye, but you fear looking directly at it. Like, if I don’t look at it, maybe it will turn and slither the other way—away from me. It doesn’t, though. It comes straight-on, its tongue snipping out quickly, and attacks.

“I have to go out of town. I’m sorry, Evelyn. There’s nothing I can do. I tried to get out of it.”

I grab the frying pan off the stove, haul it back, and slam it into the side of his face. He crumples in a heap and drops the apple I had gently inspected in the produce aisle earlier, hoping to make him the perfect pie.

I shake my head. He’s still standing there, chewing. My quick fantasy of acting out my wrath on him dissipates.

Anger and disappointment are still there, though.

“Michael, it’s Christmas.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I talked to my mom. She said she would still love to have you. You don’t have to be alone. And I’ll be back the day after Christmas. The meeting is on the twenty-third. I’m not going to even attempt to travel on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth, so I had the agent book me back on the twenty-sixth. It will probably still be a nightmare, but at least we’ll have the day after Christmas together.”

Oh, yeah. At least there’s that.

I would rather ram a pitchfork up my ass than spend Christmas alone with his family. I will sit here by myself and watch Halo as he plays with the ribbons on the wrapped presents and attempts to knock the tree over. I may even let him, just for the sheer entertainment of it. And cleaning it up will give me something to do.

Michael pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Ev, I know you’re upset and I’m sorry. You know how important this is. I really tried to get out of this, I swear to you. I’ve just worked so hard on this project and securing these contracts. I want the commission. It will help us so much. Please, understand.”

I encircle his waist and hug him back. I do know how important it all is to him; I’m not blind to how hard he works, how driven he is. I admire it most of the time, thankful he’s not lazy or an underachiever. I just hate how it has slowly torn us apart.

“It’s all right, Michael. I’m just disappointed. I was looking forward to a few days of real quality time with you. But you’re right. I’ll see you after Christmas, and we can celebrate our holiday then.”

“Good. Thank you for not throwing a fit over it, babe. I can’t deal with any more stress right now. I’ll have a really nice present for you when I get back.” He squeezes my ass and lets go of me to grab a soda from the fridge.

“I think I’ll stay home, though,” I say. “I’d rather not go to your parents without you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. She’ll probably be glad to have two fewer people to have to cook for. We’ll visit them during the week or something.”

I nod, hoping he forgets that visit. “All right.”

“So, New Year’s Eve. We’re still going to the VIP show for the band, right?”

I roll my eyes. I have never seen or heard Storm’s band play. I didn’t even look them up online. I want to be surprised when I finally hear his music, get to see him on stage doing what he does best. I want to enjoy every moment of what he does. Michael, however, has been a fan of the band for five years, unbeknownst to me. He can’t wait to see them play live, and I feel guilty and sick about it. How would he feel if he knew one of his favorite guitarists was chasing after his girlfriend?

“Yes, Storm told me it’s all fine. We’ll be sitting with his cousin and his date.”

Apparently, the show will be at a private club, one of the first they played at before they got big, with very limited access to guests. Storm assured me it would not be a crazy, packed mess of screaming girls or headbangers and people standing all over the place. Being claustrophobic, I am not a fan of concerts at all, but I’m pretty sure I can get through his show without a panic attack. At least not a panic attack that is crowd-induced. Panic over the situation I’ve gotten myself into is another story entirely.

THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE, I drag the fake tree out of the closet and assemble it. I debated not putting up any decorations, but they actually do make me happy because many of them belonged to my mother and seeing them out, lit up and pretty, reminds me of her. So I embark on putting the tree up, decorating it, and then setting a few small decorations out around the living room. My favorite is a small, ceramic gingerbread house and Christmas tree that lights up, which I’m pretty sure my grandmother made at a ceramics class.

Hours later, the decorations are up, but the living room is a mess. I put away the storage box and get out the vacuum, then figure while I have it out, I should vacuum the couch because Michael is always eating on it. I yank off the cushions and something catches my eye. I turn off the vacuum and pick it up. It’s a gold bracelet with green gems. I stare at it for quite a long time, as if it’s suddenly going to sprout lips and tell me who the hell it belongs to. It’s definitely not mine. I don’t wear yellow gold. Ever. Not since the eighties. I inspect it closer and realize the clasp is broken.

A sick feeling creeps over me. Something between fear and anger. My stomach is in knots. My mind starts to race. Who has visited here? Storm? It’s definitely not his. Amy? She would never wear something this gaudy. It certainly didn’t fall out of the cat’s ass.

Maybe it was there when we bought the couch. A salesperson or delivery person could have lost it.

I vacuum the couch a lot, though. At least every other month. I don’t see how I could have missed this before. It was right there in plain sight when I pulled the cushion off.

I hold it up, take a picture of it with my cell phone and text it to Michael with the words: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

I hurl it onto the end table and put the couch back together again, but not before checking it for more evidence. I find nothing. I lie on the floor and peer under the couch. I see a little something in the back and pull it out. A smile breaks through my anger. It’s the toy Storm bought Halo when I was sick, the one that blinks a red light when it’s smacked by a paw. He must have bopped it under the couch. I gently lay it next to Halo, who has been sleeping through my excursion of decor and cleaning.

My phone beeps.

Michael: A bracelet?

Me: I know that. But whose??

Michael: I have no idea. What’s wrong with you?

Me: I found this in our couch.

Michael: So?

Me: Well, it’s not mine! So whose is it?

Michael: I have no fucking idea. I don’t have time for this.

Oh, hell no. I quickly dial his cell number and on the fourth ring, he answers, but his voice is rather hushed.

“Evelyn, what the fuck is your deal? I’m in a fucking meeting here, and you’re sending me pictures of jewelry?”

“I want to know who this thing belongs to, Michael!”

“I told you I don’t know! It’s not mine.”

“Well, no shit! Who have you had here in the house? I clean this couch all the damn time, and this piece-of-crap bracelet wasn’t there!”

Sometimes, you can actually hear someone thinking. Now is one of those times. I can literally hear his mind thinking.

“Well?”

“Okay, now I remember. Jim was by with his girlfriend. It must be hers.”

Jim is a guy he works with and plays golf with. “When the hell were Jim and his girlfriend here?”

“A few weekends ago. During the blizzard, actually. It must be hers.”

He had friends over while I was trapped in a pick-up truck, almost freezing to death. And dry-humping a very sexy rock star . . .

“You need to calm the fuck down, Ev. I’m working. Put the bracelet somewhere, and I’ll tell Jim we have it. I gotta go.”

Click.

Well, damn.

I feel slightly embarrassed for freaking out. But as I sit here and stare at the bracelet, a feeling of unease is still hanging over me. For the first time since I met him, I’m not sure Michael is telling the truth.

When I’m stressed, I need to do something to keep my mind busy. Many a therapist have told me to channel the energy into something positive. Like aerobics. Taking a walk. Cooking. Cleaning. Sometimes, I take out the Wii and just kill things for a few hours. But today, I do something entirely different with my stress energy. Something unlike me—spiteful sluttery.

I call Storm.

“Hey, I thought you were going to call me yesterday?” I love how he doesn’t say hello, just starts talking.

“I know, but I got busy. I had to go shopping.”

“Really? Did you go Christmas shopping for me?” His voice is teasing, sexy, and flirty. It floats through the phone and infects me like a virus. Its fever spreads over me, making me warm, causing my heart to beat faster and lulling my brain.

“No, I would have no idea what to get you.”

“Just put a bow on your ass, sweetheart, and it’ll be better than any present Santa ever gave me.” My insides go gushy and my core twitches at his words.

He continues, “I do have a present for you, which is why I was trying to get in touch with you. When can I see you?”

Now. Tomorrow. Every next day. All the forevers.

“Um, I don’t know.”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning? I’ll be on my way to Gram’s for Christmas Eve dinner. I can stop by on my way.”

“Um, I’ll be here. You can stop by anytime. But you really don’t need to give me a gift.”

“I already got it. I want to give it to you. Will Michael be there? Maybe I should bring him a bottle of wine or something.” I can’t tell if he’s being sincere or sarcastic.

“No, he had to go out of town for a few days.”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“I wish I was. He had to go out of town for work.”

“That sucks, Evie. It’s Christmas. What the fuck?”

“I’m already pissed. Trust me.”

“Is that why you called me, because you’re mad at him? And yesterday, when I wanted to talk to you, you weren’t mad yet. Right?”

Damn. He can see right through me. I let out a sigh.

“I wanted to call you . . . I was just trying to do the right thing by focusing on him.”

“I thought you were going to think about us.” Storm has one of those voices that are so expressive I can actually see what face he’s making when he’s talking, even if I can’t really see him. Right now, I know he’s not smiling, and his eyes became a little bit darker, and he’s probably clenching his teeth a little bit.

“Storm, I do think about you, and us and whatever this is. I can’t not think about it. But I am in a relationship with him.”

I must have super powers because now I can also hear Storm thinking.

“Are you still fucking him?”

“Storm! What the hell? You can’t ask me things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s rude and private, that’s why.”

“I don’t like the thought of him fucking you.”

“Then don’t think about it. And could you stop saying fucking? Who are you fucking, by the way? I saw your picture on a magazine last week with some chick with tits bigger than my head.”

“She’s no one.”

“Right.”

Our silence stares at each other in the virtual air, battling it out, both of us knowing the fight is wrong, the jealousy is not allowed. But it’s there, rearing its ugly, green head. A long, tense minute goes by.

“Evie, I don’t want to fight. I just want to give you your present.”

“You started it.” Yes, I am five now.

“Okay, I guess I was out of line. I’m not used to feeling jealous. Give me a break over here.”

“Is she your flavor of the week?”

“You’re jealous, too, aren’t you?” he says triumphantly, as if he’s winning.

“No. If she’s what you’re into, that’s great.”

“I want to get into you.”

No one has ever been able to stop my heart with words. But he does, always. I close my eyes and savor the feeling for a few moments. The feeling of being wanted and desired. It’s new. It’s intoxicating.

“If you’re done swooning over me, let’s get back to me coming to see you. I have a better plan now.”

Swooning? I am not.

“I’m afraid to ask,” I say as I fall back onto the couch.

“Come with me.”

“With you where?”

“To Gram’s.”

“What? No. I can’t go to your family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I don’t even know them.”

“Yes, you can. You’ll have a great time. They would love to meet you.”

“It’s rude for a stranger to show up at someone’s house for a family holiday dinner, Storm. I couldn’t.”

“You’re not a stranger. You’re my friend. My family isn’t like that. Trust me. Christmas is for friends and family. Say you’ll come. You can’t sit there on Christmas Eve by yourself. That’s total bullshit. Do you have anywhere else to go?”

I glance at the little gingerbread house on my mantle. “No, I don’t.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll pick you up at ten. Everyone will be casual, so you don’t have to dress up or anything. We’ll just be hanging out in the living room by the fire and eating in the dining room. It’s about two hours away. I probably won’t have you back until about nine at night. My gram likes to give us gifts and stuff, so make sure you give the cat extra food and water. I don’t want you to be worried while we’re gone. I want you to have fun.”

I pick at a stray thread on my sweatpants. Christmas with Storm’s family sounds exciting and a little bit frightening. Sitting here alone sounds worse, though.

“Are you really sure it’s okay?” I ask him again.

“I’m a thousand percent positive. It’s just gonna be my parents, Gram, maybe my brothers and my sister. And Niko.”

I smile at the thought of seeing Niko again. “Only if you’re sure it’s okay. I don’t want to be in the way or make your family uncomfortable. Should I bring anything?”

“Just your ass with a bow on it.”

“Storm . . .” I warn.

“Okay, okay. We’ll have fun, I promise. I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Juggsy?” I say playfully. My mood has lifted, and I’m actually looking forward to not spending the day alone tomorrow just being depressed. When I tell Amy, she will be proud of me.

“Remember you just said that, so when I spank you tomorrow, you’ll know what it’s for.”

I change my clothes five times. I keep telling myself this is not a date, but I’m really not sure what this is. After finally settling on a pair of jeans, black boots, and a white V-neck cashmere sweater, I throw on a black scarf with tiny sparkles to top it off. I guess that looks casual and festive. I add a pair of silver hoop earrings and a necklace with a black stone wrapped in white gold wire that belonged to my mom.

Earlier, Michael called and was still mad at me over Exhibit A—the bracelet. I still have a bad feeling about that cheap-ass bracelet, but I’m not going to let it wreck my holiday. I told him I was going to dinner with Storm at his grandmother’s and he didn’t even seem to care. Not that I want to make him jealous, but still. I don’t know if he just doesn’t care whom I spend my time with, or if he’s just so star-struck by Storm and likes the idea of me hanging out with one of his musical idols.

Storm shows up promptly at ten A.M., holding a box wrapped with silver paper and a bright red bow. I feel bad I don’t have a gift for him. It’s so awkward when someone gives you an unexpected gift and you don’t have one in return.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” he says when I open the door, and he doesn’t try to hide his eyes roaming over my body.

“Thank you. You look nice, too.” He really does. Achingly so. His hair is shiny and wavy, hanging a few inches past his shoulders. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt, faded jeans, and black motorcycle boots. A silver chain with a large black cross hangs around his neck, and he has several sterling silver and black leather bracelets on. I suddenly feel very shy around him. Every now and then, the fact he’s famous creeps up on me and makes me wonder what the hell he’s doing hanging around with a nobody like me.

He hands the box to me. “Open this now before we go.”

I take it from him, smiling brightly, not able to hide my excitement. I wonder what sort of gift he is giving me. Knowing him, it’s going to be something joking or sexy and inappropriate.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” I tell him.

He’s grinning at me like a little kid. “Open it.”

We move to the couch, and I take the bow off the gift carefully. I want to save it. Soon, it will live in a box in my closet with all things precious to me, little memories I’ve collected. Wrapping off, I lift off the lid. Whatever it is, it’s buried in tissue paper. I move it all aside and lift whatever it is out . . .

Holy. Wow. I gently turn it over in my hands, and my heart just soars. I can’t even form words as I hold this amazing gift in my hands. It’s a snow globe, and inside is a tiny miniature pick-up truck with two little people holding hands and a dog, all surrounded by trees. The little man even has long hair. Obviously, he paid someone with quite a bit of talent to make this for me.

“I remember you said you love snow globes,” he explains. “I thought one with us in it would be cool.”

I hold it between us as I watch the snowflakes fall around the little ‘us’ inside. It’s so unexpected and sweet. I want to climb inside and live in this sweet scene forever.

I lay it on my lap and throw my arms around him. “I love it so much. Thank you. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.” I don’t want to let him go. I know I cling to him for too long, but it feels so good in his arms and be close to him again.

He holds me just as tight. “I’m glad you like it. I’m not usually good with gifts.”

I pull away reluctantly. “It’s the best, really. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” I kiss his cheek. “I just love it.”

I stand and walk to the mantle to put it next to my mom’s little gingerbread house. “I’m going to keep it out all year round, you know,” I tell him.

“Good. Hopefully, it will remind you to call me when you’re supposed to,” he teases.

I shake my head at him and grab my coat. “I call you when I can.” Taking my coat from me, he holds it out for me to slip into, then puts his arms around me from behind, pulling me against his body, his arms crossed in front of me.

“Where’s my bow?” he whispers.

My body instinctively sinks back against him. “You promised to behave.”

“I lied.” His lips are on my neck, kissing softly. “I didn’t know you would look so delicious.” The slight scruff on his face tickles me. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me,” he says as his hand travels down my side, over my hip, and rests on my outer thigh, pulling my lower body against his.

“We promised no more of this, Storm.”

His lips are all over my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking. My mind starts to spin and twirl, blurring the lines between right and wrong, good girl and bad girl.

“I don’t like that promise anymore.” His hand grips my leg tighter, inching between them now, his lips moving down to my shoulder, my sweater pushed aside. His other hand finds my scarf and slowly wraps it around my neck, tugging it slightly, pulling my head back to him. A tiny moan escapes me and I try to pull away, but he tugs it harder, not choking me but holding me there against his lips.

“I like you just like this. You can’t get away.”

His hand moves between my thighs and his finger slides over me, pushing the fabric of my jeans against me.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he whispers.

I am lost in his sensuality. I have no defense against it, am clueless as to how to respond to it. Twelve years of mundane sex has left me a perpetual virgin. I am stagnant, scared, frozen, trembling. Aching. I want to turn around and just let him do anything. Everything. I want to unravel beneath him and be nothing but his. His, his, his.

I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are dark with lust, his hair falling over his face in the way I love. I grab his shirt with my hands. It’s unbuttoned almost to the middle of his chest. Not really appropriate for Christmas dinner, but definitely hot. I finally allow my lips to touch his chest, my first kiss to him. His hands come up and hold my head against him.

“Yes, baby . . .” he breathes. “Let yourself want me.” His breathing is ragged, his hands tangling in my hair, yanking my head up toward him, his lips crashing down on mine, devouring me.

It’s he who pulls away. Steps back slightly. But his eyes still hold me . . . caress me . . . wanting me.

“Fuck.” Loud, but not yelling. “I won’t do this to you, Evie. You will hate me, hate yourself, and hate us.”

I nod tearfully at him. I unwind the scarf from my neck and straighten my sweater. I already hate myself, though.

“I don’t want him hanging over us. I don’t want him between us,” he continues.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“We can rewind a thousand times, Evie. I’ll keep doing this with you. But I don’t want to.”

“Storm, I’m trying. I am.”

“I know you are. I am, too. I can walk out of here and never see you again, leave you here with him. Would that be easier for you?”

The thought of that scares the shit out of me. I could lose him. Obviously, he will not wait forever for me to make up my stupid mind.

“No, I don’t want that. I would miss you like crazy. I would always think of you.”

“And him? If you leave him, will you miss him like crazy, too?”

I admire how Storm fears no question. He just asks, hoping for the answer he wants to hear and swallowing what he doesn’t.

I’m ashamed to answer this question, though, and I don’t really trust my answer. Is it clouded by the way he makes me feel? How much of this is just excitement and desire?

“I guess your silence answers that one.”

“No.” I grab his hand. “It doesn’t. I don’t think I would miss him. Not like I would miss you. I would miss the memories, the time invested. I’m afraid of you hurting me. I’m afraid this is just crazy attraction, and once we get it out of our systems, it’s just going to be over, and you’ll be chasing after someone else, and I’ll have a broken heart.”

“I’m not fifteen, Evie. I know the difference between wanting to fuck someone and having real feelings for them.” He steps closer, smoothing my hair. “Let’s go. It’s Christmas. We can talk about fucking and feeling later, okay?”

His ability to transition in and out of situations amazes me. There is no beginning or end with him. He just pauses what’s happening, diffuses it, and deals with it later at a better time. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or something that could eventually drive me crazy.

Seeing Niko in the backseat is another highlight of the day. I missed this big, fluffy monster so much. He wags his tail and makes these little howling noises when I climb in the Jeep. I’m sure he remembers me.

“I missed him. He’s such a cool dog.” I pat his head while Storm backs out of the parking spot. “Do you think he remembers me?”

“Of course, he does. Look how happy he is.”

“Aww . . .” I say. I’m sure I’m getting fur all over me, but I don’t care.

“Do you think he and Halo would get along? If they were together?” He’s trying to make the question sound casual, but I’m not buying into it.

I think about that for a moment. Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking? “Um, I don’t know. Halo has never seen a dog, but I’m sure if Niko doesn’t chase him they would be fine.”

He nods, staring out the windshield. “I was just curious.”

I want to question what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to rock the boat again, not today. He reaches across the truck and takes my hand in his, resting them together on my leg. I swallow hard and look over at him.

“Storm . . .”

He glances over at me quickly then back to the road. “Evie, this is what we do. We hold hands. I’m not giving that up.”

I squeeze his fingers tighter into mine. It’s such a simple touch, holding hands. Little kids do it. It’s the first step into affection with someone when we are young, to hold their hand in yours. At our ages, this sort of gesture should not hold so much meaning. Most couples our age go straight to wild kisses and directly to bed. Our courtship breathes slowness. It hides in the dark corners. It peeks out with tiny touches, explodes with quick erotic moments, then runs back to hide. It is both sweet and dirty, and it’s taboo.

“I should probably tell you about my family,” he says.

“Oh?” My nerves stand at attention and my stomach starts to burn a bit.

He takes a visible deep breath. “My father is Ronnie Vale. My uncle is Vince Vale. My mother is Aria Valentine.”

My stomach seizes at the names. I recognize all three. He has to be joking. “Storm, please tell me you’re kidding?”

He shakes his head and grins at me sideways. “I’m totally serious.”

“Ronnie and Vince Vale, the musicians from the seventies? And famous romance author Aria Valentine?”

“Yup.”

I can’t believe he hasn’t told me this. These people are pretty much household names. I remember my parents listening to the music of the Vales on long car rides. Those songs still play on the radio and are on all sorts of Songs of the 70’s albums. I have read almost all of Aria Valentine’s novels and seen most of the movies on cable based on her books. Of course, the movies were never as good as the books, but I still watched them just to see her sexy, love-struck characters come to life.

“How could you not tell me this? You can’t just let me walk into a house of famous people, Storm. I don’t belong there.”

He squeezes my hand harder so I can’t let go. “Evie, one of the things I really like about you is you don’t give a shit about money and fame. You don’t look at it as an opportunity to get something. Like right now. You’re not jumping up and down, getting all excited to meet famous people. You want to go back home. I can hear it in your voice. You don’t give a rat’s ass who I am. I had to beg you to agree to come to my show next week, and I think you’re only doing that because your dickwad boyfriend is a fan.” He pauses to make a turn. “I don’t want to be with a star-chaser, and I don’t bring them near my family. When I’m offstage or with my family, we’re just normal people. We don’t want to be ‘on.’ You’re the first girl I’ve brought home in about twelve years.”

“I’m the wrong girl to be bringing home, Storm. I have a boyfriend. What will they think of me? You finally bring a girl home and she’s living with another man? I can’t do this.”

“Evie, don’t get yourself all whacked out. They know who you are. They know you’re not a girlfriend and that we’re just friends. For now.” He looks over at me and winks. I shake my head at him. I’m not sure I can do this. His mother will think I’m a hussy. Living with another man and spending Christmas with her son. I’ll probably end up in one of her novels as the stupid character who can’t get her shit together and just whines all the time and wallows between two men until they both dump her ass.

“Stop it, Evelyn. Clear your mind of the shit, okay?” He pulls my hand over and places a quick kiss on the top of my fingers, a gesture that melts me every time. “We’re going to have a good time. No one is judging anyone. My family is cool. None of us are perfect. My parents are like hippies. They’re not rich snobs like you see on television. I wouldn’t bring you there if they were like that and subject you to that kind of crap.”

I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into him. I know he is doing this on purpose to try to get me to leave Michael. Every time Michael fails, Storm is there to make it all better.

But even I know someday, Storm will fail, too.

GRAM’S HOUSE IS A BEAUTIFUL SPRAWLING ranch-style in the shape of an ‘L.’ The trees and bushes out front are decorated in pale blue lights, and white lanterns line the driveway and walkway. It’s pretty and welcoming, just as Storm described on the ride up. I wished I had baked cookies or a pie, or brought a bottle of wine with me. Something. I hope his family doesn’t perceive me as some ungrateful tart, crashing their family dinner without even enough manners to bring a thank-you offering. I cringe at what my mom would think. She raised me better than this.

Storm opens the passenger side door and takes my hand to help me out of his truck. We watch Niko run around the yard for a few minutes before heading for the front door, where he turns to bestow his most irresistible smile upon me. “Don’t be nervous, baby. This is home for me. If . . . and yes, I’m fucking saying if, we are ever together, we would spend a lot of time here. That’s what I want. I should warn you, though; Gram is itching for a great-grandchild.”

My mouth gapes open at him. “Dude, I am in no way ready to discuss babies.”

“Don’t call me dude. And neither am I. But someday, maybe . . .” He quirks his eyebrow up at me.

At that moment, the door opens and a tiny, gray-haired woman is standing there. And I mean even shorter than I am, putting her at under five feet tall. She is simply adorable, and she is beaming at us.

“Come in, come in!” Niko rushes in past us and sits expectantly at Gram’s feet as we enter the foyer and close the door behind us. She hands the dog a big Santa-shaped cookie. “Now, go find your bone and be a good boy.”

She turns to us. “You must be Evelyn!” She grabs my hands. “I’ve heard so much about you, honey! I’m so glad you’re here! Storm talks about you nonstop—”

“Gram!” Storm interrupts, but he’s smiling ear to ear. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “She doesn’t need to hear all that.”

“Of course she does, dear!” She takes my hand again. “Come into the kitchen and meet everyone!” I glance back at Storm as Gram leads us to the kitchen. He smiles and winks at me.

The house is gorgeous, but decorated with a very comfortable and lived-in touch. The kitchen is modern and monstrous with a large island in the middle. A small group of people are laughing at the table in the corner, and Gram gently pulls me over. They all look up and smile at us.

Storm steps up beside me. “Hey, you guys. I want you to meet Evelyn. Evie, this is my dad Ronnie, my mom Aria, and my little sister, Rayne.” Storm and Rayne. I love it.

They all smile and say hello at the same time.

“Thank you so much for having me. It’s wonderful to meet all of you.” Thank God, my voice didn’t crack as it usually does when I’m nervous.

They stand up for a proper greeting and take turns hugging us. “Evelyn, we’re delighted to finally meet you,” Aria Valentine says, kissing my cheek. The woman is gorgeous. Tall with long wavy hair, beautiful skin, and emerald green eyes like a cat. I can see so much of Storm in her.

I, of course, recognize Ronnie Vale, Storm’s father, as I’ve seen him on television at least a hundred times. He is tall, handsome, and well built. His graying hair is longish and tied in a neat ponytail at the base of his skull. He hugs me then looks me up and down quickly. “Storm, you weren’t kidding when you said she was gorgeous.”

Oh, my God. I feel myself blushing. Storm shrugs.

“Daddy, you’re embarrassing her!” Rayne pipes up, rolling her eyes. She is also beautiful like her mother, and very petite. Her hair is dyed jet black with purple highlights. She’s wearing an over-sized sweatshirt with the neck cut out, a purple tank top layered beneath, and skinny jeans with holes in the knees. Even dressed casual, she has a sense of cool style about her. I wonder if she’s also a musician of some sort. She definitely has that look going on.

We all move into the living room, where a roaring fire is lit in a stone fireplace in the corner. I sit in a big, soft chair near the fire and Storm sits on the floor in front of me, leaning against the front of my chair, his arm against my leg. I take in my surroundings. A huge Christmas tree stands in the corner, nearly reaching the high vaulted ceiling. It’s decorated with beautiful glass ornaments and pastel lights. A heap of wrapped presents are piled beneath it. Niko is laying a few feet away from the tree, gnawing on a bone that is about three feet long and has a red bow tied at the end of it.

A spread of fresh fruit, truffles, crackers, and cheese are set out on the coffee table. Everything looks too beautiful to even eat. Storm’s parents are sitting on the loveseat opposite us, his father’s arm around his mother, her leaning her head into his shoulder and smiling over at us. I remember Storm telling me during the blizzard that his parents shared true love, and he was right. You can just feel the love between them with their shared smiles and closeness.

Rayne is sitting on the floor in front of the fire, her legs tucked under her Indian-style. “I think the way you guys met is awesome,” she says. “I mean, like, who the hell gets trapped in a truck for two days! It’s epic! Mom, you should totally write this into one of your books.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Storm says, playfully kicking his sister.

Aria smiles warmly. “Some things are meant to be private, Rayne. Storm doesn’t want his love life showing up in a book any more than you do.”

Love life? What?

Storm hands me a cookie from the table and continues on with his sister. “Trust me, it wasn’t fun, kiddo. We fucking froze our asses off.”

“You really didn’t know who he was?” she asks me.

I shake my head and swallow my chocolate chip cookie. “No, I really didn’t. I actually thought he was some kind of psycho murderer. When he first found me, I yelled at him to get away from me.”

“Yeah, and she thought Niko was a wolf. She screamed bloody murder when she saw him,” Storm added.

“Hey, he could be part wolf for all we know,” Ronnie interjects. “He looks bigger every time I see him.”

“Storm, you better make sure he doesn’t steal my slippers again!” Gram yells from the kitchen.

“Gram, he’s chewing his bone. Take a chill, and hurry it up in there. I’m starving.”

I can’t help but smile and feel at ease with these people. Storm was right; they are so easygoing and fun and not snobby in the least. My nervousness begins to subside.

I tap Storm’s shoulder. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Down the hall, third door on the left.”

I excuse myself and make my way down the hallway. The house is much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. I find the bathroom, but the door is open about six inches, and the light is on. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in there, so I push the door open and walk right into Storm.

It’s Storm, but it’s not. He’s wearing nothing but a towel and is also covered in tats, but they’re not Storm’s tattoos. His long hair hangs down his shoulders, dripping water down a body that is equally as muscular as Storm’s. I stop dead in my tracks and peer up at him, utterly confused. His eyes are dark brown, like rich chocolate, and don’t have Storm’s mischievous glint. These eyes are dark, almost sad.

“Oh, my! I’m so sorry!” I say, completely embarrassed. I don’t know where to look or which way to go.

He just looks at me. “Who the hell are you?”

“Um, I’m Evelyn.”

“The blizzard chick?”

What? Is that what they’re calling me? And why didn’t Storm tell me had a twin brother?

I make a face that I try not to make. “Yeah, I guess that would be me.”

“You lost again?”

Ugh. “No, I was looking for the bathroom.”

He tightens the towel around his waist, and I try not to look at him half-naked in front of me.

“You found it.”

“I see that. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was occupied. The door was open.”

“Yeah, I was letting the steam out.”

He’s looking at me but not smiling. I don’t like Storm’s face on this guy. At all.

“Well, um, I’ll just come back.” I turn for the door.

“I’m done. It’s all yours, Blizzard Chick.” He pushes past me, his damp arm rubbing against my breasts.

I lock the door behind him. Geez. I wish Storm had told me he had a twin brother and saved me the freak-out of running into him. I’m confused enough as it is—the last thing I need is a Storm clone running around.

I use the bathroom and check myself in the mirror before heading back to the living room. Sinking back into the chair I was in, I whisper down in Storm’s ear, “You didn’t tell me you had a twin brother.”

“I don’t.” He holds a strawberry up to my lips. I bite it in half and he eats the other half, his eyes not leaving mine. Sharing fruit has never been so sexy.

“Well, who did I just run into half-naked in the bathroom who looks just like you?”

He swallows his half of the strawberry. “That’s Asher. He’s a year older than I am. We just look alike.”

“Holy shit. You could’ve warned me.”

“I forgot.”

“He called me Blizzard Chick!”

Storm starts to crack up.

“What’s so funny over there, you two?” Ronnie asks.

“Evelyn ran into Asher and he called her Blizzard Chick.”

They all laugh. Not at me, thankfully, but they seem to find a lot of amusement over it.

“Honey, he gives everyone a nickname,” Aria explains. “Don’t take it personally. He’s totally harmless.”

“And high,” Rayne adds.

“Rayne, don’t,” Storm warns. She makes a face at him and I start to giggle. I wish I had a little sister.

Dinner turns out to be a five-course meal. I am so stuffed by the third course that I can barely eat another thing. I nibble at everything to be polite, but I am not used to eating so much food. Storm literally wolfs down everything and then eats what I don’t. Asher doesn’t join us for dinner, and I wonder what his deal is and where he’s hiding and why. I hope it’s not because of me. Maybe he didn’t want a stranger here for Christmas. Or maybe, like Rayne mentioned, he’s hanging out somewhere just getting high.

After dinner, Aria approaches me and offers to give me a tour of the house. I accept and allow her to lead me away.

“Mom! Don’t tell her embarrassing shit about me!” Storm yells after us.

“I’m just going to show her your naked baby photos!” she yells back, hooking her arm in mine.

“I don’t mean to fan-girl, but I’ve read all your books,” I tell her. “I had no idea you were Storm’s mom. He just told me on the way here.”

“Thank you! If there’s any you haven’t read, just let me know and I’ll give you any you want. I’m almost finished with my latest. I’d love to send you a copy before it hits the stores.”

“Wow, thank you!”

We walk through the kitchen to the other side of the house to a beautiful four-season room that is all glass. She takes my hand and we sit on a long, white couch. Storm’s family is very affectionate I’ve noticed. It’s not annoying, though. It’s actually very comforting.

“Are you having a good time? We’re so glad Storm asked you to come.”

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, I really am. I’m glad I came, too. I didn’t want to at first, but Storm is very persistent.”

“Yes, he is. It’s one of his many charms.”

“He’s very lucky to have all of you.”

“We’re lucky to have him, too.” She tilts her head at me. “Your parents passed when you were seventeen?” she asks softly.

I am a bit taken aback because I never told Storm that information.

“Yes, they were in an accident,” I tell her, looking down. I don’t like talking about my parents, especially with people I barely know.

“Evelyn, I want you to know I had you checked out by a PI. And before you get upset, please understand that I only did so because I love my son. I needed to know if there was anything about you that was . . . well, bad.”

Yikes. I have no idea how to take this. Checked out? Did she think I was some kind of criminal?

She continues. “I wanted to apologize for invading your privacy. It’s hard to be a mother and watch your children get hurt. Storm has been through a lot. They all have. It’s one thing if they’re off partying and just screwing girls for fun, which of course I don’t condone as proper behavior, but when I see they are serious about someone, my instinct is to find out as much as I can. I guess it’s the writer in me to fact-check.”

I nod in understanding, my initial guard subsiding. “It’s all right. I can appreciate why you would do that. I’m not upset with you.”

She looks visibly relieved. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I was not expecting to hear such sad information.”

“Thank you.” My eyes drop to my hands in my lap. “It was a long time ago. I miss them very much, though. Especially my mother.”

“If you ever need to talk, or need anything at all, you’re welcome to call me. I honestly mean that.”

“I really appreciate that. Thank you.”

She stares out the glass windows for a moment, thinking. “Mothers aren’t supposed to pick favorites, you know. But between you and me, Storm has always kind of been my favorite. I love all my kids, but there’s just something about him. He always makes me laugh. He has such a good heart, he always has. When Britney died, he changed. I didn’t think he’d ever be happy again.”

Britney. Now I have a name to put with the girl he married.

“He’s never spoken of her,” I say. “But I read about her.”

“No, he rarely talks about her. She was a very troubled young girl. Teen love is so full of angst. She set her sights on him and that was it. She had a lot of problems at home, the poor girl. An alcoholic father, her mother was hardly ever home. I think she saw Storm as her savior, and she envied the closeness he had with his family. And he tried so hard to make her happy. She had crazy mood swings, happy one day and completely miserable the next.

“She was hard on him. Nothing was good enough. I think she pushed him into marriage because she wanted to get away from her parents. And I hate to say this, but I think because she knew we had money, she thought he was her golden ticket. Our kids have always made their own way, though. We never threw money at them. Things got bad for them—she did drugs, she cheated on him, and she wanted everything under the sun. New car, a house, vacations. She berated his music, his work on motorcycles—everything he did. All he wanted was to be loved. I don’t think she ever did love him, though. He was too young to be going through all of that and being responsible for someone who was so unstable. It took a huge toll on him. Then getting pregnant really pushed her over the edge. She hung herself in their bedroom closet, and he found her that way. It was absolutely horrible.”

I gasp and cover my mouth. The thought of it makes me feel sick on so many levels. What went through the poor girl’s head to make her want to end her own life? And her child’s? Storm must have been completely devastated.

“He blamed himself for a long time. He turned to drugs and alcohol. It tore us apart to see him that way.” She gives me a weak smile. “I know you’re wondering why I dragged you out here to talk about this, and it certainly wasn’t to depress you. And maybe I shouldn’t have told you all that, but the thing that happened with you and Storm and being trapped in the truck together? I think you formed a special bond. Am I right?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but we did.”

“He hasn’t been in or wanted to be in a relationship in a very long time. He cares about you very much, and I can see why. You two have chemistry. The way he looks at you and touches you, it’s like you’ve been together forever.”

Talking so openly about this should feel awkward, but with her, it doesn’t. “Aria, we do have some sort of connection. I can’t deny that, but I am in a relationship. Did Storm tell you that?”

She nods slowly. “Yes, he did. And I told him he should stay away and respect that. He says he can’t.”

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt me,” I admit. “I’m not sure I fit into his world.”

“Oh, trust me, Evelyn. I understand. I dated and married a musician. I’ve been through it all. Was it easy? No. Was it worth it? You bet your ass it was. It’s not for everyone, though. It’s a hard lifestyle to get accustomed to.”

“I just don’t know what to do. I wasn’t prepared for any of this . . . meeting someone else and having feelings for them . . . considering leaving a twelve-year relationship . . . being on my own. Dating a rock star sounds insane to me, I’m sorry.” It’s the truth. I can’t lie to his mother.

“He has a lot of love to give, Evelyn. Look how he treats his dog, for God’s sake.” She laughs and I laugh with her. “I just don’t want to see him get hurt, Evelyn. And I can tell you are not the type to do that. But you do have a decision to make, honey. And I don’t envy you at all because I have been exactly where you are.”

My head jerks up. “Really? Were you with someone when you met Ronnie?”

“Yes. I was engaged. I met Ronnie at a concert, and I went head over heels for him. A few weeks later, I cancelled my wedding, my parents disowned me, and I was living in the back of a tour bus. I loved him, though. I couldn’t get enough of him. No one made me feel like he did and still does to this day. Sometimes, the right person comes along at the wrong time, and you have to just trust fate and hope it leads you in the right direction and it all evens out.”

“Wow. You’re very lucky. Storm really admires what you and your husband have. He talked about you when we were in the truck.”

“I am very blessed. And I think you are, too.” She pats my hand. “We should get back to them. I’m sure Gram has dessert ready. I just want you to know there is so much more to him than what you see. You can talk to me anytime if you need to and I really do hope you become part of our family someday. I want to see my boys settle down a bit.”

We stand and I give her a big hug. “Thank you so much, Aria. I really care about your son. I won’t hurt him.”

Returning to the living room and taking my seat with Storm leaning against my legs again feels like home. All of this reminds me so much of my childhood. This is what I miss and what I want. A family, a house full of love and laughter.

His gram makes us hot cocoa, just as Storm described to me during the blizzard, and then they open their presents. Asher makes an appearance, standing in the doorway. He smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. It’s hard for me to look at him, almost a mirror image of the man I am falling in love with, and see the sadness. I’m pretty sure he is the vocalist of their band, and now I am really curious to see him on stage next week. I always thought lead singers were outgoing, but I don’t see that in Asher at all.

I am sad to go when the night is over. His family kisses me and hugs me, telling me they will see me again soon. Well, everyone but Asher, who just nods at me.

“I’m glad you came tonight.” We’re parked in front of my condo in the dark. I feel sleepy from all the food and the long drive home.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time. Your family is amazing.”

“They like you.”

“Your brother seems sad. Is he okay?”

“He’s chasing a ghost. But he’ll be all right.”

I cock my head at him, not understanding.

“It’s a story for another time, baby. He’s okay, though. Next week at the show, you’ll meet my other brothers Talon and Mikah, and my cousins Vandal and Lukas.”

More brothers and two cousins. I hope they all don’t look like Storm. I absolutely love the names, too. When Amy and I were young, we came up with a theory—anyone with a cool name was good-looking and cool by default. So far, we have not found evidence to disprove this theory.

Saying goodbye to Storm is getting harder. It feels wrong for us to part now. In my heart, I feel like we should be going home together, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

He breaks into my thoughts. “I go on tour in two weeks.”

“Okay . . .”

“We don’t tour a lot. None of us really want to be some huge band that tours non-stop, so we tour about two months, sometimes three out of the year. Then we do a few scattered shows here and there, and some of the smaller local venues.”

I nod, trying to let it sink in. This is his life, the part I know nothing about. The part that scares me the most. I like him this way, when he is just some regular guy in a truck, holding my hand.

He touches my chin and turns me to face him. “I’ll call you and text you every day. If you want me to?”

“Yes. I would really like that.”

“I want to come home to you. I don’t want to come back to this.”

I would have to make my choice. In my heart, I already knew what that choice was. I just needed to get my head on board with it.

“Evie, you gotta stop living in fear. You can’t see the stars unless you go out in the dark. You get what I’m saying?”

“WOW, MIKE. YOU’RE REALLY HOT FOR this band, aren’t you? I think I see some gel in your hair. Fancy.” Amy raises her eyebrows and playfully touches Michael’s hair. She glances over at me and winks. I flash her a warning look to behave herself. Amy has a real hard time not poking at people and getting them aggravated. I’m not even sure it’s a great idea to bring her to the show now that I’ve had more time to think about it. Her knowing the situation between Storm and me will only fuel her endless taunting, and I already feel awkward enough about being under the same roof with both Michael and Storm.

Michael takes our coats out of the closet in the hallway and hands mine to me. “Ashes and Embers have been one of my favorite bands for years. They fucking rock. There aren’t many good rock bands around anymore. It’s kind of a dying breed. Fuckin’ Storm can really rip on the guitar, too.” He turns to me. “Have you heard him play live?”

I pull my coat on and lift my hair out from under the collar. “No, he didn’t seem to have a guitar strapped to him when we were trapped in the back seat during the storm of the century, sorry.”

I check myself in the mirror one more time before we leave, thinking my looks and outfit really pale in comparison to Amy’s short skirt, long legs, four-inch heels, and plunging neckline. Not to mention her gorgeous face and hair. Standing next to her in my skinny jeans, black boots, and a black silk peasant blouse, I feel just . . . average. Amy looks more like she could be the potential girlfriend of a rock star, not me.

Michael and Amy talk nonstop on the drive to the venue, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I’m excited to see Storm play, to see him in his true element. I’m also nervous as hell at the thought of him meeting Michael. I absolutely hate the position I have gotten myself into—having feelings for another man while still in a relationship. I used to scoff at people who got themselves in similar situations and claimed ‘it just happened.’ I could never understand how they could say that and expect people to believe it. But now I know all too well because it did ‘just happen.’ I didn’t plan or want the mess with Storm, and I would change it if I could.

That’s a lie. No, I wouldn’t. Now that I’ve felt his touch, been in his arms, felt his body, tasted his lips . . .

“Are you going to be mute all night?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been daydreaming since we left the house,” Michael says.

“Maybe she’s just bored,” Amy pipes up from the backseat. God, I want to kick her.

“I’m not bored or daydreaming, I was just listening to you two argue, as usual.”

When we pull into the parking lot of the venue, there are a lot of people hanging around outside, smoking and talking real loud. Most of the women I see are dressed sexy like Amy. Shit. No wonder Storm always has a girl hanging on him in all the photos I’ve seen of him online. I’ll bet most of these girls are those groupie types I’ve seen on TV who just come to party and have sex with the guys. Eww.

There is a short line to get in, as apparently your name has to be on the list, and a big, muscular guy at the door is checking the names off on an iPad he’s holding. Michael gives him our names, and we are then escorted to a table inside, right up front.

A good-looking guy with shaggy, jet-black hair that is spiked up a bit on the top and sides is sitting at the table with a pretty girl, who is also dressed rather tame like myself. He stands when he sees us.

“Hey, I’m Lukas. You guys must be Evelyn, Mike, and Amy?”

“That’s us,” I say. “You’re Storm’s cousin?” Is everyone in his family just sexy as hell? It’s sinful.

He flashes an adorably crooked smile. He looks young to me, maybe early twenties. He’s also covered in tattoos and has a piercing through his lip and his eyebrow. “Yup, that’s me. Have a seat. This is Ivy.” He gestures toward the girl sitting next to him, who looks like a deer in headlights, but manages to smile at us. She is clearly just as uncomfortable being here as I am. I choose to sit next to her, and Amy sits on my other side with Michael next to her. I know Amy did this on purpose to put distance between Michael and me.

She leans over to me. “Holy shit, Lukas is a fucking cutie!” she whispers.

“Try to control yourself,” I whisper back to her, hoping Ivy didn’t hear Amy’s big mouth. Lukas didn’t introduce her as his girlfriend, but he was holding her hand on the table so I assume they must be some sort of together.

I take a look around the dim room. The stage has a curtain drawn, so I can’t see anything up there. The rest of the place is pretty packed with people. Lots of guys with long hair wearing leather, surrounded by gorgeous women. Tattoos and tits galore. There’s a bar in the back and a small area selling some band swag, like the sweatshirt Storm gave me while in the truck. Which I haven’t washed, by the way, because I’m sick like that, and I like that it still smells like us.

I can feel him before I see him, and I know that sounds weird but it’s true. An electric, warm, tingly feeling comes over me whenever he is near. I turn to my left and there he is to the side of the stage, handing a guitar to someone, but his eyes are on me. He approaches our table like a panther. Slow, confident, taking in Amy and Michael before his eyes land on me and stay there. He looks amazing in faded blue jeans, black biker boots, a white button-down shirt that is hanging open, displaying his drool-worthy abs, and a black leather vest. As he comes closer, I can see he has that damn smoky kohl eyeliner smudged beneath his eyes, making the green orbs appear even greener.

He greets Lukas first with a fist bump then kisses Ivy on the cheek. She looks absolutely petrified of him.

He turns his attention to us.

“I’m glad you guys could make it. You gonna introduce me to your friends, baby?” He rests his hand on my shoulder as he stands next to our table. Oh, shit. He’s not going to play nice.

I force myself to speak as casually as I can. “This is my best friend, Amy, and this is my boyfriend, Michael.” Storm shakes their hands politely, but I catch him eyeing Michael.

“Hey, man. Thanks so much for inviting us. I’ve been a fan since the early days,” Michael says, totally oblivious that Storm’s hand is now on the back of my neck.

Storm nods. “No problem.”

Michael continues. “And thanks for taking care of my girl. Sorry if she drove ya crazy.”

“Yeah, she really did drive me crazy,” Storm answers, giving my neck a gentle squeeze.

“Can I get your autograph? And a picture?” Amy squeals. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to keep her shit together for long.

Storm laughs. “Sure thing, honey.” He signs the back of her checkbook and then she thrusts her cell phone at me.

“Take our picture, Ev.”

I roll my eyes and snap a few photos with their arms around each other. I try not to seethe. “Happy now?” I ask.

She grabs the phone. “No. Now you stand next to Storm and I’ll take your picture.”

Clever girl. Now I’ll have a picture of Storm and I together.

Storm pulls me into an embrace and we smile at the camera while Amy taps away at the screen. Michael isn’t even paying attention. He’s now deep in a conversation with Lukas and Ivy.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say. Before I can get away, Storm leans down and whispers against my ear, “You look beautiful. I want to drag you backstage.”

My heart twirls as I break away from him and take my seat, just in time to see Juggsy, the girl with the huge boobs, come up and link her arm in Storm’s. She’s wearing a bright pink V-neck sweater that barely covers her girls, and Michael’s eyes immediately leave his convo with Lukas, practically diving into her cleavage.

She completely ignores us and pulls on Storm’s arm. “Ash wants you backstage.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

Juggsy isn’t happy. “He said I should come get you. Now.”

“I’m talking to my friends. Go tell him I’ll be there in a sec.” Juggsy eyes Amy and me like a wicked bitch then stomps off, boobs bouncing.

“She’s lovely,” Amy says.

Storm smirks at her. “Yeah, she kind of helps us stay organized.”

“They have day planners for that. Cell phone apps, too,” Amy replies, pinning him with her eyes.

I kick Amy under the table.

Storm nods, giving her his famous grin. “Yup.” He diverts his eyes to me. “I gotta go. You guys enjoy the show.” He smiles at me and walks away.

I feel sick. I didn’t know Juggsy was a sort of permanent fixture. I wonder if he’s sleeping with her. I wonder if the black bra in his truck is hers.

“Holy shit, Ev, that man is fiiiine. Those fucking eyes,” she whispers loudly at me. “Why are you not letting him jump your ass, like, right now?”

“Amy, control yourself. Michael is right next to you,” I say through clenched teeth. “And it looks like he already has someone to jump on, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Come on, Ev. You’re not jealous of that slut, are you? He clearly wasn’t interested. He had his eyes riveted to you the entire time he was here.”

“Yeah, and what about when I’m not around? She must be around all the time.”

“Stop it, Ev. Don’t be a jealous freak. You stake your territory and show that bitch he’s yours.”

“He’s not mine, Amy.”

She leans closer. “He fucking wants to be! You have to make up your mind, or you’re right, he will go to someone like that. Someone like him isn’t going to wait around forever. Don’t leave him available for Miss Skanks-a-lot!”

The lights dim, people take their seats, and a few people yell ‘woo!’ and ‘yeah!’ The curtain rises slowly, there’s fog on the stage, and different colored lights suddenly shine down on each band member. The drummer bangs out a quick intro and they go straight into playing. The song is catchy, a mix of rock and blues, and they sound great, in perfect sync.

Asher is not one of those hyper lead singers who runs all over the stage. He stands at the mic, leaning to the side a bit, swaying. His voice is deep and melodic, hypnotizing. He’s an emotional singer, putting every part of himself into the song. There’s another guitarist, also very good-looking with long blonde hair, who’s playing shirtless, flirting with the girls at the edge of the stage, and a bass player who has a commanding aura about him. He’s tall and muscular—even more so than Storm, with long jet-black hair and dark skin. He looks like he could be Native American. I know Storm said the band members were his brothers and cousins, but this guy looks completely different from the rest of them. He’s dark, unsmiling, and oozing sensuality.

I finally let my eyes rest on Storm, saving the best for last. Seeing him up on stage, playing his guitar, doing this kind of bounce and stomp with his feet, his hair flying around, grinning out at the audience like a Cheshire cat . . . there are just no words to describe how I feel. He appears to be the energy of the band. He plays with the audience, walking to the edge of the stage, letting the girls grab his legs. And, boy, are they grabbing. A whole crowd of women made its way toward the front of the stage to get closer to the band and they were all screaming. They love the band. They love him.

I feel proud. Jealous. Excited. Scared. I try to imagine myself right now in a relationship with him. Could I do this? Watch women grope at him? Watch him strut around and put on this show for several months out of the year? And where would I be? Here watching? Or home alone, wondering? Worrying? Driving myself crazy?

The song ends and Ash throws his hands up. “Thank you all for coming!”

The crowd screams. Storm meets my eyes, grins, and winks at me. I love when he does that.

Amy elbows me. “Holy fucking shit, Ev. They are amazing. They are all hot as hell, too. Look at that bass player. What I wouldn’t do to be under that for a while! Hot damn!”

Lukas leans over. “That’s Vandal. He’s my brother.” He laughs.

“Is he single?” Amy yells across the table.

“All the time.”

“Don’t get any ideas!” I say to her. That’s the last thing I need right now is her getting involved with Storm’s bandmate and cousin.

The band roars into a second song, this one faster, a little bit of metal. I’ve heard this one on the radio and had no idea who it was. It’s one of those songs I would crank up and drive fast to. At that moment, I realize Storm is something I will never be able to get away from. If I were to ask him to stop contacting me, to boot him from my life, I will still have to hear him on the radio and be reminded of him. Of us. I’d have to wonder what would have happened. Forgetting him would be impossible. Not that I even could, but even attempting to do so.

I glance over at the girls at the stage. Any one of those women would want to be with him, or any of the guys up there. But they don’t know these guys. They don’t know they sit around with their eighty-something-year-old gram, drinking homemade hot cocoa. They don’t know at home, Asher was quiet and sad. They don’t know Storm likes to have his hand held. I know these things.

Lukas rises from the table and makes his way over to the side of the stage, talks to Juggsy for a moment, then disappears. I turn to Ivy and smile at her. “How long have you been dating?” I ask her.

Her eyes get wide and she actually blushes. “Well, we’re not really dating. Not yet, really. I’m, uh, a thirty-six-year-old new divorcee. I met with him to get a tattoo done and we sorta hit it off.” Wow, so he’s a tattoo artist. Nice.

“That’s great!” I say. “He’s really cute.”

“I guess. I don’t know. He’s much younger than I am. He’s only twenty-four. I have an eighteen-year-old daughter who has a crush on him. She loves this band. This is all really new for me. I think I’m too old for this.”

“You don’t look thirty-six,” I tell her, and she really doesn’t. She looks about mid-twenties to me. “And who cares about age? If you’re happy, go for it.”

“Look who’s talking!” Amy pipes up.

Ivy laughs softly and lowers her voice, leaning closer to me. “I heard about you and Storm. Lukas told me.”

“Heard what?” I ask her, afraid to even know.

“About the blizzard, how he fell for you. Don’t worry; I won’t say anything. Lukas told me about it. He wants to see him happy. I think they are kind of close. I’ve only met him one other time, but he seems nice.”

“Yes, he is.”

The song ends and Ash grabs the mic off its stand, walking a little closer to the end of the stage.

“So, as you guys know, my brother got stuck in a blizzard a few weeks ago, right? Like, trapped in his truck in the woods?”

Oh. Shit.

The crowd screams.

“So, this chick he was stuck with had no fucking idea who he was. Can you believe that shit?”

“NO!” the crowd yells.

“Fuckin’ A, right? Anyway, my brother gave her one of our sweatshirts to wear. You know, because he steals them all and he had one in his truck.” He looks over at Storm, who’s laughing over on his side of the stage. “And she says, ‘Oh, is this one of those bands that just yells and you can’t even hear the fucking lyrics?’”

The crowd roars and laughs. Ha ha. Very funny.

“So, we decided to do a song with no fuckin’ yelling, just for Blizzard Chick. And, as a special treat, Storm’s gonna sing this one. It’s one of his favorite songs.”

More roaring and crazy from the crowd. I hope Ash doesn’t announce that I’m sitting here. I will die.

“Now, you all know he can’t sing as good as me, so let’s go easy on him, okay?”

The lights dim so far down, we can’t see anything on stage. Michael looks over at me and laughs. “This ought to be good,” he says.

Crap.

The sound of a violin comes from the stage, and a blue spotlight shines down on one member. It’s Lukas, playing the violin, moving and beautiful.

“Oh, my God,” Ivy says, grabbing my arm. “I had no idea he played the violin!”

“They’re just full of surprises.”

Another spotlight shines down and there’s Storm sitting on a stool, center stage, holding his guitar. He looks so hot and so damn sexy. I can’t believe this man has kissed me and had his arms around me. This same man made me an orange smoothie when I was sick and spent the weekend watching dumb comedies with me. And there he is, on stage and singing a song for me.

All of this would be perfect if I didn’t have a boyfriend.

The other guys start to play softly, and Storm begins to sing a slow, darker rock version of “Knights in White Satin.” His voice is unlike Asher’s, but he is still a damn good singer, his raspy voice with a slight lilt belting out the words. The way they’ve arranged the song is awesome, his voice and the violin just haunting. Romantic. All the girls in the crowd are swooning and probably creaming in their pants. Except Juggsy. She’s staring right at me, and she’s not happy.

I watch Michael for some sort of a reaction to the song, but he shows none. Amy, on the other hand, is practically having a fit.

At the end of the song, Storm jumps up and takes a bow. “See? We don’t have to fucking yell,” he exclaims. “But we want to!” That starts them off into another hard rock song.

Amy leans into my ear. “That song was beautiful. That wasn’t easy to sing, and he fucking killed it.”

“I can’t believe he did that,” I reply. “I had no idea. It was awesome.”

After the show, Amy drags me off to the restroom, leaving Michael at the table. Just as we’re coming out of the ladies' room, Storm grabs us both and pulls us into a storage room.

“Well, this could be fun,” Amy says, playfully batting her eyelashes. I shoot her a dirty look.

Storm is all sweaty and smiling. He looks at Amy. “I need five minutes with her. Can you wait outside and make sure Michael doesn’t come looking for her? Please?”

She smiles ear to ear. “Anything you ask. Behave yourselves,” she says. “You got five minutes. I’ll be right outside the door.”

I wait until she leaves and turn to him. “Storm, you can’t do this.” Before I can say anything else, he has me backed up to the wall, his body pressing against mine. He buries his face into my neck, his hands on my waist. “Holy shit, I fucking missed you,” he breathes.

“That song—” I start to say, but his lips capture mine before I can keep talking. He kisses me long and hard, desperately.

He finally breaks away from my lips, leaving me unsteady and reeling. “Did you like it?”

“Yes . . .”

Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanks me to his lips. “I want you right now. I can’t fucking stand to see you with him.” He kisses me so hard I can barely stand up. I wrap my arms around his neck and allow myself to return his kiss, my body settling against his. I can feel his cock in his jeans, huge and hard, pressing against me. Letting out a small growl, he grinds himself against me. He bends down slightly, and I feel his tongue licking the sides of my breasts in the opening of my sweater. He has never touched me like this before, and I don’t know if it’s from being jealous or if it’s an aftereffect of being on stage.

I push on his chest. “Storm . . . Storm. Storm! Stop!” I shove him off me and he stumbles back a bit.

“I’m sorry. Fuck.” He shakes his head. “I’m fucking crazy tonight, I’m sorry.” He steps closer to me and puts his hands on the sides of my face, leans forward and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just the adrenaline from playing. It’s been a while.”

“It’s okay . . .” I stare up into his green eyes, and I see fire. Want. Determination.

His hands go to my jeans and have them unbuttoned in a second, the zipper dragged down instantly. I feel his hand slide under my panties, his fingers gliding over my clit.

“Storm—”

His lips cover mine. “Shh . . . just let me . . .” He picks me up effortlessly and plops me down on top of a table a few feet away. Pushing my torso back with one hand and my pants and panties down with the other, he ducks his head. Putting my legs over his head and onto his shoulders, he kneels on the floor and dives between my legs, his tongue ravishing my pussy. My body lurches up from the sheer unexpected ecstasy. His hands grip my thighs, pushing them apart, spreading me open for his mouth to kiss, lick and suck. His finger slowly slides into me, and I feel myself clenching around him. He groans and moves his mouth up to my clit, sucking, his tongue swirling round and round as he thrusts into me with one, then two fingers.

I feel like I’m floating above myself, disconnected from what’s happening. I am trapped in euphoria, unable to move, unable to stop. My entire being is focused on what’s going on between my legs, what Storm is doing to me. The universe has disappeared and all that remains is the incredible feeling of his lips, his fingers, his silky hair on my thighs. Each lick, each suck, each thrust pulls me deeper into everything that is him. My pussy quivers and an ache settles deep inside, wanting him. My breasts swell, nipples hardening, jealous for his touch. Every second pulls me further and further away from everything I thought I wanted, everything I was. I’m breaking. I’m falling. I’ve lost my walls. The past few weeks crash together in my head and in my heart, all the feelings I tried to ignore now screaming, tearing their way out and rushing down to explode against his mouth.

The orgasm he brings out of me is the most intense I have ever felt in my life. My entire body tightens, shaking and then releasing, causing me to grip at his head with my hands, pulling his hair. I can’t take another second. I will die. A moment ago, I could not get enough of his mouth, and now I feel like I will shriek and pass out if he laps at me one more time.

“Stop, please . . .” I gasp, pulling his head away. He stands and pulls my body against him, lifts my face to his and kisses me gently, his tongue slowly caressing mine. His lips and face are wet. With me. I love it, me all over him. Like he is mine.

“I could lick you all fucking night,” he whispers.

Orgasmic fog slowly lifts as my mind comes back down to reality. All the wrongs immediately start screaming in my brain. Slut. Liar. He will hurt you. Idiot!

I need to get away from him, but I am trapped, my legs around his waist, my jeans around my ankles.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly against his chest. “Baby, don’t freak out. It’s okay. Don’t push me away again.”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper-yell at him. “Amy is right outside the door, and Michael—”

“I don’t care. We both needed that.” His hand slides down my thigh. I am naked against his jeans, my legs spread right over his crotch. “I want you so much, Evie. I could fuck you right now. I don’t care who’s outside.”

I start to cry. I am not equipped for this on any level.

He quickly disentangles himself from me and helps me pull my jeans up. “Evie, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I just wanted you so much. Seeing him sitting there was making me crazy.”

I jump down from the table and fix my sweater. “So, you did this? To do what? Mark some territory?”

“What? No. That’s not why. I want you. I’m trying to show you what we can have, how I can make you feel.”

“By eating me out with a hundred people on the other side of the door? Including my best friend and my boyfriend?”

He gets up in my face. “Damn fucking right. I have zero fucks to give about anything else when it comes to you, Evie. If I want you, I want you. Now. Nothing else matters to me except knowing you want me back.”

I do want him. Madly.

I can’t say it, though. I stare up at him, hoping he can see it in my eyes. His face is so full of emotion. Passion. Anger. Disappointment.

“Did you want me?” he asks, stepping closer to me.

I step back. “This again? Does everything have to come back to whether every girl in the world wants you?”

“No. It all comes back to whether you want me. You. That’s it.”

I swerve around him and head for the door. “I can’t believe we did this, Storm. You know how I feel about cheating, and you also know you have a way of just getting me to do anything. You told me you’d give me time to think.”

“I didn’t make you, Evie. You weren’t exactly saying no.”

“Go to Hell.” Dammit, he’s right, and I could kick myself.

I yank open the door and Amy practically falls inside. “Let’s go.” I grab her arm and tug her down the hall. How the hell long was I in there?

“Evelyn, slow down. What the hell just happened?”

I shake my head. “Don’t ask. I just want to get out of here.”

She stops and grabs my arm, forcing me to look at her. “Oh, my God. Did you guys just screw in there?”

“Almost, but no. Please, let’s just go. Michael is going to be wondering where the hell we are.”

We make our way through the crowd of people cluttering the hallway.

“Storm looked pretty mad, Ev.”

“I don’t care. He can’t just put his hands and tongue all over me whenever the hell he wants to.”

“His tongue? Holy shit, girl, we need to talk.”

We finally make our way to the table and find Michael sitting there drinking and talking to Ivy and Lukas.

“Where have you two been? You were gone for half an hour.”

“The line was crazy,” Amy answers. “Evelyn feels sick to her stomach. I think we should go.”

Michael downs his drink in one gulp and grimaces. “Okay. What’s wrong now?” he asks me.

“Nothing, I just don’t feel well.”

“All right, we’ll get you home then. Amy, you better drive; I’ve had a few.”

She nods. As we’re putting on our coats and saying goodbye to Ivy and Lukas, I spot Storm over by the bar with Juggsy hanging on him. Now I really do feel sick to my stomach. Is he going to go home with her? With my stuff all over his face and lips? He must feel my stare because he turns and meets my gaze. Shaking his head, he grabs a shot off the bar and throws it back.

Shit. Didn’t I read he had quit drinking?

I sit in the back seat on the way home and listen to Michael go on and on about how great the band was and how epic it was to have his guitar idol sing a song dedicated to me. Amy is watching me in the rearview mirror. I think she’s afraid I’m going to jump out of the car. The thought is tempting.

I take out my cell and send a quick text to Storm.

Me: Are you drinking?

A few minutes go by.

Storm: Are you my AA sponsor now?

Me: No. I’m just worried about you. I thought you quit drinking.

Storm: I had two fn shots. I’m fine.

Me: Are you going home with that girl?

Storm: Are you going home with him?

Seriously?

Me: That’s not fair.

Storm: No shit.

Ugh!

I should have known this night would not end well. Having Michael and Storm under the same roof was just a disaster waiting to happen. Since it was Storm’s idea we all go to his show, it never even really occurred to me seeing Michael would have an effect on him. I knew it would bother me, but, to be honest, I never really considered Storm’s feelings about it. My mind flashed back to the storage room, my ass naked on the cold table, his face between my legs. My insides flip at the memory. Why couldn’t Michael ever make me feel that way? I never got that turned on when Michael touched me. Yet Storm practically sent me to another stratosphere.

Amy corners me as soon as Michael disappears upstairs. “Okay, chickie, come clean. What the hell happened back there?”

I flop on the couch and kick my shoes off. “He threw me on a table and ate me like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet, that’s what.”

Amy’s jaw drops. “What? Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was.”

“Then what happened? You had a fight?”

“Yeah. I got mad at him for doing it. I don’t want to be a cheater, Amy, and he knows it. But he keeps doing stuff like this to me, and I can’t seem to stop him or myself from wanting it.”

She lowers her voice and moves closer to me. “Evelyn, he’s got it so bad for you. Do you know how many women in that place would have given their first-born to ride his face? And not put up a fight over it?”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to remind me of this. Trust me, I know. That skank was hanging on him when we left.”

“Well, you left him all hot and bothered! The fuck is wrong with you, Evelyn?”

“I do not want to be some sex toy for him. He’s just pissed that every damn girl in the world wants to fuck him and I don’t. Well, I do, but I’m not going to fall all over him and give up all my morals just to do it.”

“Evelyn, do you follow him on social media?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have a Twitter. I don’t have time for that. And I don’t want to see any crazy stuff he’s doing with other women.”

She takes out her cell phone, scrolls around a bit and hands it to me. There’s a status update on his official page, posted a few days ago.

“Someday, I’ll get the girl, and hopefully, she’ll get me, too.”

“What does that mean?” I hand her the phone back.

“It means I don’t think he’s just trying to get laid, Ev. I think he really cares about you, but your dumb ass can’t see it.” She picks Halo up off the back of the couch and hugs him like a baby. “Seriously, Evelyn. You could be throwing away a good thing here, and I’m not talking about the drunk lump upstairs. Over twenty-eight-hundred girls liked his status and a few hundred have offered themselves up to him.”

“I can’t compete with all that. It will drive me mad.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to. He doesn’t act like he’s chasing anything with a skirt, really. And women will always come on to him, but who cares? Learn to ignore it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m exhausted. Do you want to sleep here instead of driving home?”

She lays Halo on the couch next to her and stands up. “No, I have a breakfast date, so I’d better go. Don’t ask me why I agreed to that. Who the hell wants to meet for breakfast? You better get the goods on that guy Vandal for me.”

“His cousin? He didn’t look like your type at all. He looked pretty miserable, actually.”

She pulls on her coat and walks toward the door. “It’s that brooding sexiness I love.”

I pull her in for a hug. “Thanks for going tonight. It was fun except for the you-know-what part.”

“I had a great time. He’s really talented. Next time he wants to feast on you, shut up and let him.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you how my breakfast date goes.”

I turn off the lights and head upstairs to find Michael completely sprawled across the bed, taking up the entire thing. I swear under my breath and get undressed in the dark. I put on an over-sized t-shirt, grab my pillow, and go back downstairs to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to hear him snoring all night anyway.

About an hour after I fall asleep, I hear my phone beep, the sound jarring me. I reach for it and snag it off the coffee table. It’s a text from Storm.

Storm: I didn’t want to fight tonight. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget me while I’m gone.

Me: I could never forget you.

Storm: Can you call me? Now? I leave tomorrow. We didn’t say goodbye.

Should I call him? Michael will never wake up now that he’s asleep. I stare at my phone, debating.

I dial.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem. Just so you know. Yeah, I used to drink too much. But not now.”

“Okay. I was just worried.”

“I know.”

“Your music is amazing, Storm. I loved it. And the song . . . hearing you sing it. It melted me.”

“I was hoping it would. I never sing, ya know. I did that for you.”

My heart jumps a little bit. “It was really great.” I swallow and ask him what’s been on my mind since I left. “Did you have sex with her?”

I hear a faint sucking noise. He’s smoking one of his e-cigs. “A blow job,” he finally says. My heart sinks. My throat tightens. I close my eyes and trap the tears there.

“I know you’re mad, Evie. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry. I was mad. I wanted you, and you pushed me away. I had you for ten minutes and it was Heaven. So, I sent myself back to the Hell I’m used to. I don’t kiss her. I don’t touch her. I use her.”

“Storm, I can’t ask you not to be with other women. I have no right to be jealous.”

“Ask.”

“What?”

“Ask me.”

I can’t. I won’t.

“Evie, I need total honesty from you. I don’t care what it is you have to say to me, or ask me. Just don’t keep it from me. You hide so much, and you’re in so much damn denial. You gotta cut that out, okay? I will pull words out of you if I have to.”

“I don’t want you to be with other women,” I say softly.

“Good. Now tell me why.”

“I want it to be me.”

“Oh, it will be, baby. Once you stop fighting yourself, and me.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Did you want me earlier?”

Holy shit, yes. A hundred thousand times.

“Yes.”

“If there was no Michael, would you have let me make love to you on that table?”

I close my eyes, seeing him in my head, feeling his tongue inside me.

“Yes.”

I feel him smile through the phone. “Good girl. Cuz when I want you, I’m going to take you, and I want you to want it. Is that something you could give me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s something I need, Evelyn. I’m being honest here. I like spontaneity.”

“Okay. I understand.” I think.

“Where’s Michael now?”

“Upstairs, asleep. I’m on the couch.”

“Are you going to think about us? Think about giving us a chance when I get back?”

“Yes. I will. I am.”

“I don’t want him fucking you anymore. Can you do that? If you avoid him, would he try to hurt you?”

“Michael? No, he would never hurt me. He’ll be mad, but he won’t hurt me.”

“Good. Let him be mad.”

“Okay.” Michael will be pissy when I say no, but I don’t care.

“So, this is our first step together, Evie. If we want to think about being together, we both have things to change. This is a start, right?”

“Yes. Are there others?” I ask him.

“Other women?”

“Yes, other fuckbuddies. Or just her?”

“I’ve never had just one, Evie. Not in a long time.”

“Oh . . .” The nausea starts to creep back up on me again.

“I don’t want that anymore. Now I want you.”

“Why? Why me?”

He lets out a little laugh. “I don’t really know. I just knew, sitting in the truck with you in my lap, that this was it. I figured we were either gonna die together back there or get out and be together forever. I don’t question feelings like that. I must get that from my mom,” he teases.

And so it began.

I WAKE UP SATURDAY MORNING FEELING stronger. Last night, Storm and I decided this would be our start.

I want him. I want to be with him. I have not felt close to Michael in so long. I’ll miss what we once had, but I know I need to let go. It’s not fair to either of us for me to hang onto him like a security blanket.

Make a plan. Set attainable goals. Reward each goal. Don’t give up if things don’t go perfectly.

These are all things my therapist had drilled into my head, back when I tried to seek help for my depression and lack of zest for life and desire to do anything. The time when I laid in bed for days.

I would try for a few days, and then give up. Goals were scary. Plans were frustrating. Settling was easier, so much less work.

This time, I’m going to follow through. Storm is worth it. We’re worth it.

I sit in the grass and write my list in a leather journal. The soft cover is soothing to me. I love how the leather smells. I collect old books and journals, like this one with handmade paper. Writing my wishes in this seems more appropriate than typing them into the notepad of my cell phone.

I start my list. Check finances. Michael and I have a joint account, but also separate ones. I have some money left over from my parents’ insurance. I’ll need to find out how much I have and how much is fair for us to split from our joint account.

Find a place to live. I can’t afford to stay in the condo. We lease it, so Michael can stay if he wants and renew the lease. Where will I live? I could live with Amy, but I doubt that will work. We both like our space and privacy. Hopefully I can afford a small studio apartment. I’ve never lived alone. The thought scares me a little bit.

My cell phone beeps and I check it.

Storm: Good morning, Sunshine.

A huge smile instantly spreads across my face.

Me: Good morning ;)

Storm: We just got on the road. What are you doing?

I take a picture of the double headstone I’m sitting with and send it to him via message.

Me: I’m here. Writing in my journal. Drinking a latte.

Storm: Baby, I would have brought you there. I always will.

Me: I know. In the summer, we’ll come together. You can help me with the flowers.

Storm: Definitely. What are you writing?

Me: A list of things I need to do to be with you.

Storm: Fuck. You just made my heart jump.

My insides do a happy dance. I love how he makes me feel.

Me: Is that good?

Storm: It’s fucking awesome. I want to jump out of this bus and run back to you.

Me: LOL . . . don’t do that.

Storm: Wait until I can get my hands on you :-)~

Me: :) I’m going to head back home. It’s getting overcast here.

Storm: K. I’ll text you later.

I close my journal. I’ll write again later when I have some more time to think. Touching the headstone, I wonder what my parents would think of Storm. I’m sure my dad would scoff about the long hair and tattoos, but I think once they got to know him, they would have both liked him. Mom would have loved his smile and his eyes.

Michael and Amy are all I have left. My only friends, my only family. They have made me feel grounded since my parents passed, giving me a sense of having a connection to when my life was full and happy. Leaving Michael will, of course, leave a hole in my life.

I love him, but I no longer feel like I am in love with him. It took meeting Storm to make me realize that. And I hate to compare, but Michael never made my insides go to mush, even in the beginning. I never felt that closeness with him, like I could just close my eyes and melt completely into him forever. I never felt like I could tell him anything. I never came all over his face or quivered just thinking about him. I guess starting our relationship at fourteen doomed us. We never grew or evolved. Our love was still fourteen, stuck in twenty-something people.

Mom used to say when a door closes, a window opens. I will lose Michael, but that will leave me open to explore whatever is going on with Storm and me, without guilt and being a bad person. Maybe we really can make this work and have a relationship.

“If we are ever together, we would spend a lot of time here,” Storm said at Gram’s house. He wants me as part of his family. I could have a family again. And what a family that would be! Just thinking about it boggles my mind. Could that really be my life someday?

Continuing with my list—Distance from Michael. This will be difficult. While Michael has no problems distancing himself from me whenever his attention is elsewhere, he is used to me jumping at his every whim and never saying no to what he wants or asks me to do. Our sex life is sucky at best—no pun intended—but he does like to have sex for a few minutes several times per week just to get off. Storm and I promised no sex with others as our start of focusing on being together.

Halo. Make sure new apartment is pet-friendly.

The house phone rings. I put my journal in the end table drawer and answer it.

“Hey, chickie,” Amy says brightly.

“How was your breakfast date?”

“Ugh. He was cute, but I was so damn tired, I think I looked like shit. Fucker should know women need some time in the morning. I think he does this first-date breakfast on purpose to see how brain-dead and fug we look before we’re fully awake. It’s genius, really.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ryan something. I can’t remember. He’s a realtor. We’re going to have dinner tomorrow night. I kind of like him; he seems to have his shit together.”

“Well, keep me updated. He sounds interesting.”

“We shall see. Date four seems to be the magic number of whether they turn into supreme assholes or have mommy issues. So, have you talked to Storm since the show?”

“Yeah. We talked last night on the phone. He let that skank blow him.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Ev.”

“It hurts like mad, Aim. Like seriously. I want to just scream and cry, to be honest. He did apologize, though. He said he was pissed over what happened. He told me he doesn’t kiss her or touch her, just uses her and gets rid of her. That really doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.”

“I think this is what he’s been doing for a long time. You said he hasn’t been in a relationship in years.”

“He hasn’t. Anyway, we kind of came to an agreement. He doesn’t want me having sex with Mike, and he says he’s not going to touch any more skanks. He says he just wants to be with me. I made up my mind, Aim. I want to give him a chance. I’m going to put together a plan to leave Michael. I can’t just do it and leave today, though. I need to figure some stuff out first so I can get through this without freaking out.”

“Wow, Evelyn. It’s about time. I’m really proud of you.”

“I’m scared. I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

“Evelyn, I’ll help you. You can do this. He’s trying, right?”

I sigh and rub my forehead. “He really is, Amy. I’m trying really hard to believe he’s not going to just play with me for a while and then skip out.”

“Give him some time. Remember, this is new for him, too. Do you think you’re going to move out?”

“I know, you’re right. And yes, eventually, I will need to find like a cheap studio apartment near the office.”

“Well, lemme ask Ryan tomorrow. He might know of some places.”

“That would be great, actually. Thanks.”

“I gotta run. I’ll call ya soon.”

Our conversation brought Storm’s messing around with Juggsy back into my mind. Just the idea of her putting her glossy lips on him makes me feel sick and furious. And jealous. Knowing he went from licking me to being sucked by her makes me want to scream. Knowing there wasn’t any feeling behind it for him doesn’t make it any better. I’m sure there were feelings there for her. I saw how she kept her eyes on him like an eagle.

And even worse? I’ve never given a blowjob. Ever. Ironically, it’s something Michael never pushed for.

I pull out my goal journal and scribble, I need a Blowjobs for Dummies. Stat.

Shit is getting real.

After dinner, Michael tells me he is going out of town for work again for a few days. Three, possibly four. For the first time, I am relieved and not mad or disappointed. I just nod at him and say okay.

I do some laundry and take a long shower, trying to stall bedtime. Sitting on the toilet lid, I check my phone for new messages. None. I want to send Storm one, but don’t want to seem clingy. I delete some junk emails then read a few pages of an ebook on my phone.

My phone beeps with a new message. Excited, I open up my message app. It’s not from Storm, but it’s just as good. It’s from Amy and it’s two photos of Storm and me. Thought you might like these, she writes. Wow. We actually do look cute together. I’m so much shorter than he is, barely making it to his shoulder. He looks huge next to me. In the first one, he has his muscled arms around me and we’re both smiling at the camera. In the second one, we’re not looking at the camera. He’s bent down, his head resting against mine, and I’m turned into him, my hand on his chest. Amy took this without us knowing. It’s when he told me I looked beautiful. I love this picture. I forward them over to Storm.

I wait. I don’t want to leave the bathroom until I hear back from him.

I floss. I brush my teeth. I straighten the towels.

Beep.

Storm: Look at us.

Me: Amy just sent it to me. :)

Storm: I’ve been beaming all fucking day. Now this. The guys will think I’m mental smiling so much.

Me: LOL. I’ve been smiling, too. Every time I think of you.

Storm: Tell me it’s all the time or I will spank you.

Me: Yes, you’ve invaded my thoughts 24/7. Mission accomplished.

Storm: Legit. I knew I’d conquer your stubborn ass eventually :)

Me: Now you’ll be bored with me :/

Storm: No way, baby. I have lots in store for you.

Squee!!

Me: I’d better go. I just wanted to say goodnight and show the pix.

Storm: Where are you sleeping?

Shit.

Me: I’m not sure yet. I’m stalling in the bathroom right now, hoping he’ll be asleep when I get out.

Storm: How many times per week?

Me: What??

Storm: How many times per week do you guys have sex?

Me: So rude!! There’s no set number! It’s just whenever he wants to.

Silence.

Me: And just so you know, it’s just like you and that girl. He just sticks it in. There’s no foreplay or anything. It’s like five minutes.

Silence.

Me: I don’t enjoy it at all. I fake orgasm every time.

Storm: I’m going to fuckin punch something.

Me: Storm, no. Come on, we were having such a nice day :(

Storm: I know. But fuck.

Me: Is she there, too?

Storm: Who?

Me: You know who.

Storm: Yes, but I’m not going anywhere near her. I made it clear to her this morning that I’m off-limits.

Me: Really? You did?

Storm: Yes.

Me: Thank you.

Storm: I expect the same, Evie.

Me: You know this is harder for me! I live with him!

Storm: Then you had better start getting headaches every day. I will lose my shit if I know you’re sleeping with him every night.

Me: I promise I will do the best I can to avoid him, but I need some time to get away from him. I can’t just move out tomorrow.

Storm: Why not?

Me: Hello? I have nowhere to live. I need to find an apartment.

Storm: Fuck that. I have two houses.

Me: I’m not moving into your house. I can’t do that. And I need to be close to the office.

Storm: Can I call you?

Me: No. He’s in the next room. He’ll hear me talking.

Storm: Then answer it and just listen to me. I can’t do all this fucking typing. You don’t have to talk.

Ugh!!!

Me: Fine, give me a sec to turn the sound off.

A minute later, my phone vibrates and I answer it.

“You don’t have to talk. I just can’t do all this typing. My fingers hurt from playing so much the past few days.” He pauses. “I know you’re tryin’, Evie. I am, too. This ain’t gonna be easy for either of us. These are just speedbumps, though. We’ll figure it out. I was so fuckin’ happy today, just knowing you were finally letting me in. Knowing you were seriously thinking about us. But you gotta understand one thing about me—when I want something, I don’t stop until I get it. And I don’t share well. Somehow, you got under my skin and I’m crazy wanting you. I’m a very sexual person, Evie. I’m not gonna lie. But this isn’t just about sex with you. I have real feelings for you. That on top of wanting to devour you is a dangerous combo for me. This is something I’ve never had before. You following me?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good. If you want to be with me, I can’t share you. I can’t be halfway across the country driving myself crazy wanting you, knowing you could be in bed with him and he might be touching you. I will lose my effing mind. I know this is gonna be hard for you and he’s gonna get pissed. If you want to move out tomorrow, you can move into my place. Or I’ll send you money for your own place. I don’t care.”

“I can’t do that, Storm. I need to stand on my own two feet for a while. I moved in with Michael right after high school. I’ve never lived on my own or taken care of myself, so it’s important for me to do it now. Give me some time to work this out, please,” I whisper, praying Michael can’t hear me. “He’s leaving tomorrow for three or four days.”

“Thank fuck.”

There’s a loud knock on the door. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing in there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I feel sick to my stomach. Just go to bed.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you? You’ve been sick a lot lately.”

“No, Michael! Go to bed.”

I hear him walk away. Jesus!

“Holy shit. Did that motherfucker really just say that to you?”

“It’s just how he is. He’s petrified of an unplanned baby,” I whisper.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

“Yes!”

“But you didn’t take it when we were trapped in the truck. I’m gonna lose my mind over this shit.”

“Storm,” I whisper. “I am definitely not pregnant. Please, just give me time to get out of here the right way. I promise you I will not let anything happen between him and me. I want you, okay?"

“Damn, I love how that sounds on your lips. Say it again.”

“I want you.”

I hear him take a deep breath. “You better go. Try to get on the couch.”

“I definitely will. I’ll call you tomorrow when he’s gone.”

“If I don’t answer, leave me a message. It’s gonna be busy tomorrow.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

I end the call.

This is not going to be easy.

MONDAY MORNINGS ARE THE WORK OF the devil. I am practically falling asleep at my desk, grateful for the cubicle walls hiding me from my co-workers, who are also probably half-dozing. I sip my latte and read all my emails, jotting down a list of everything I need to do today.

My cell phone beeps and I discretely check it. I don’t want Jack to catch me texting during work time.

Storm: We’re just heading out. Wanted to say good morning. :)

Me: Good morning, you :) Try to call me tonight.

I managed to feign a stomach bug for the past two days and slept on the couch. Being deceitful to Michael is making me feel awful. This is not the kind of person I want to be. I keep telling myself it will all be okay, but I am honestly afraid I am going to rot in Hell for this.

Thankfully, Michael will be gone for the rest of the week, so I won’t have to make up excuses to avoid him. Eventually, he’s going to start wondering why I’m sick all the time, though.

The mail guy shows up at my desk and hands me a pink package. It has no return address. It must be a marketing promo of some sort. I’m intrigued by the shiny pink box, though, so I open it right away. Beneath the outer pink shipping paper is a glossy pink box. I pull off the lid and peel back the white tissue paper.

Holy shit.

I push the lid back over it and look around me really quick to make sure no one is looking at me. No one is.

I peer back into the box. Inside is a pink dildo. Or vibrator. Whatever it’s called. It’s made out of some soft pink rubber and looks just like a real penis, and it has like little rabbit ears at the base of it. What the heck?

I push it aside a bit and find a tiny card inside.

Bring this home and call me tonight. ~ S

Oh, my. Storm sent me this? Why? I put the lid on tight and hide the box under my desk by my purse. I’m completely confused. Why on earth would he send me such a thing? I’ve never had a sex toy before and have no idea what to do with it. Maybe it’s supposed to be some kind of joke that I’m forgetting. A bunny?

I send him a text.

Me: Did you send me this thing?

Storm: What thing?

Me: This rabbit thing?

Storm: I did.

Me: Um? WTF is it?

Storm: Bring it home and call me tonight around midnight. Be naked.

What?

“Evelyn how are those reports going?” Jack is at the entrance of my cube, watching me stare at my phone.

“I’m so sorry. What did you say?” I know I’m blushing and looking guilty, trying to put my phone away and fumbling with my purse.

“Evelyn, I really need you to focus. You’ve been very distracted lately. I’ve tried to be patient after your accident, but it’s becoming very non-productive.”

I nod in agreement. “You’re right, Jack. I’ve just been tired lately. I’m sorry. I’ll be more focused.”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I will need to write up a formal performance review,” he replies and walks away.

Great. Just what I need to hear on a Monday morning. If I lose my job, it will throw a monkey wrench in my plans of getting my own place. I don’t feel comfortable moving into Storm’s house, or letting him foot the bill for me. I do not want to be some kind of kept woman. And I don’t want to be dependent on him or owe him anything if things don’t work out between us.

Ironically, the words ‘if things don’t work out between us’ never even crossed my mind once during my relationship with Michael. I just always felt sure we would be together. I didn’t question it or doubt it. How stupid was I, lulled into some false sense of security and happiness?

I clock-watch the entire day, my focus on the contents of the pink box hidden under my desk and not on marketing reports. Two months ago, I was completely engulfed in my job, working nights and weekends to try to impress Jack. Now, I can’t wait to leave.

I pick up a take-out salad on my way home and eat in silence at the kitchen table, the pink box looming like an elephant in the room. My skin is sweaty, wondering what Storm’s intentions with this thing are. Maybe I should throw it away, call him a perv, and just end this now before I walk down some dark and twisted path I’m not ready for or even aware of.

And never see him again.

I know I can’t do that, anymore than I can saw off my own arm. I can barely go five minutes without thinking of him. He’s become the nucleus of my world somehow. All thoughts, dreams, and actions end up going back to him.

The ringing of the phone drags me out of my thoughts. I look at the ID and see Michael’s cell number.

“Hi,” I say.

“What’s up? How was your day?”

“Okay. Jack’s being an ass, as usual. How ‘bout you?”

“The usual. I have a dinner meeting with the client, so I thought I’d call you now since I might get in late.”

A dinner meeting. I wonder if that’s true or if it’s really a date with someone.

“All right. I just finished dinner, so I’m just going to watch some television.”

“Sounds good.” He pauses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

So much power there in those words. Yes, those words are true. But the weight behind them has crumbled to dust beneath us. These words are admission. Omission.

I do the same in return. “Yes,” I say. “And I love you, too.”

I probably always will. Just not the way I did.

Four hours ‘til midnight, when I can call Storm and learn about this bunny device. I can’t understand the significance of the bunny ears. What does it mean? Quick like a bunny? Energizer Bunny? Maybe it’s just there to be cute.

I debate calling Amy to ask her what this thing is. Maybe taking a picture of it and texting it over to her. I decide not to, as this might be some kind of cute personal thing that Storm is attempting to do, and I don’t want to bring Amy into it if it is. I will just have to wait and see.

At eleven-thirty, I crawl into bed naked and prop a pillow up behind me so I can sit up, the glow of the television the only light. I open the pink box and pull out the dildo. There is a tiny tube in there with it that I didn’t see before. I squint at it and try to read the label. Silky Slidey lube.

Silky Slidey lube? I’ve never seen or used lubricant before. I pull the cap off and sniff it. It has no smell. I put a dab on my finger and rub my thumb and forefinger together. It is slippery and silky. I kind of want to rub it all over my hands like lotion, but that’s probably not a great idea or its purpose.

I check the box to make sure nothing else is hiding in there. I want to keep the note that came with it. I wonder if Storm wrote this himself, or if whoever packed this thing up did. The writing is artistic, like an architect or artist would write. I raise the note to my nose to see if it smells of Storm’s cologne. It doesn’t.

I stare at the long, thick vibrator, ignoring the unfortunate little rabbit head and ears stuck to it. This thing is huge, way bigger than Michael is. There is no way I am getting this in me, if that’s what Storm is thinking of.

You. Are. So. Stupid.

At times like this, I am honestly shocked by my own stupidity and naivety. If I were friends with myself, I would be sitting here laughing and shaking my head, asking me what the hell I thought he wanted me to do with it. Of course he wants me to use this thing. Why else would it come with lube? And directions from him for me to be in bed, naked? Which I am.

I bite my lip as unease sparks and then ignites inside me. It’s two minutes after midnight. I don’t know if I can do this.

I can turn my phone off and just tell him tomorrow I fell asleep. It’s a valid excuse. He’s probably tired from being on the road all day, too, and most likely would like to just go to bed himself, rather than be messing around with me on the phone.

My ringtone goes off.

Well, crap.

I slide my finger across the screen and hold the phone up to my ear.

“It’s twelve ‘o four.”

“I know,” I say like a guilty child.

“You were thinking about not calling, weren’t you?” His voice is accusing yet playful.

I don’t answer.

“Wow, Evie. You’d really do that to me? Just blow me off when you know I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you?”

“No . . . I’ve been dying to talk to you, too. I just . . .” I give the vibrator the side-eye.

“The toy made you nervous?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

He lets out a little laugh. “Trust me, Evie. You’re going to love that thing so much that I’m going to have to hide it from you.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Before we get into all that, tell me how your day was.”

“Boring. I hate Mondays, and Jack accused me of being unfocused.”

“Are you? Your mind does tend to wander.”

“Yes. How can I focus on work when you’re sending sex toys to my desk?”

“Well, I didn’t want to send it to your house. I figured your office was safer.”

“Good call,” I admit. “Where are you right now?”

“In a hotel room somewhere in Colorado.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone. I told you I wouldn’t be with any women, didn’t I?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yes . . . I thought maybe one of your brothers shared a room with you.”

“We’re not twelve, Evelyn. We all get our own rooms like big people. Some of the guys have girlfriends or women they bring with them sometimes. Or groupies. That sort of shit.”

I don’t want to think about that. I hope Juggsy has her own room on the other side of the hotel. Or the other side of the continent would be even better.

“Maybe next time you’ll come with me?”

Go on tour with him? With Ashes and Embers? Is he high?

“Storm, I don’t think I could ever do that. I have a job and . . . I’m just not the groupie type.”

He coughs. “A groupie? You’re not a fuckin’ groupie, Evie. You’d be my girlfriend.”

I play the word over in my head. Again and again and again. Girlfriend.

“We’ll talk about that another time,” he says. “Tonight, we have fun. Are you in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Describe your surroundings for me.”

“Um. It’s a room with a bed basically.”

I hear the tell-tale sound of him puffing on his e-cig and blowing the vapor out.

“Baby, let your mind go. Seduce me with words. Like this, I’ll go first. I’m lying in bed with the comforter thrown off to the side.” His voice is low, and he talks slowly, deliberately—bringing me into his world. “I’m warm thinking about you, and I don’t want anything on top of me. The lights are off, but I have several candles lit—one next to the bed, one on the dresser in front of the mirror, one in the hallway. The room is glowing a soft amber. Right before I called you, I undressed, so I’m naked on the bed. My cock is already hard just thinking about you. I was turned on all fucking day thinking about you with that toy, imagining it in your hands. So much, I wanted to jerk off, but I wanted to save it for you so I could hear your voice and your breathing in my ear when I come.”

Whoa. My core quivers and contracts just hearing those words and his sexy voice luring me in.

“I wish I was there.” My own voice is soft with lust, my breathing slightly faster and deeper.

“I do, too, baby. You have no idea. But for now, while we’re apart, I’m going to fuck you with my mind and my words, and you’re going to help me. Okay?”

“Okay . . . yes.”

I will say yes to anything you want. Just keep making me feel this way. Don’t stop the tingling butterflies.

“Have you ever played with sex toys before?”

“No. Never. I don’t understand the bunny.”

His laugh is sweet. “You are so damn adorable, Evie. I swear you fucking wreck me with your cute weirdness.”

Cute weirdness? No, please, not the cute . . .

“I’m glad you’ve never done this stuff before. I want to be as many firsts for you as possible.”

I take a deep breath. “That’s going to be pretty easy, Storm. Considering I’ve only slept with one guy, and we basically did nothing. I’ve never even given a blow job.”

I immediately regret saying that. Dammit! He’s going to think I’m a freak and run straight back to Juggsy.

“Wait, what?” He sounds shocked and confused.

“Let’s just forget I said that, okay?”

“No. No fucking way are you backpedaling from this one. Are you serious, baby?”

I feel myself shrinking. I am a loser freak.

“Yes, okay? I’m a sexual loser, I know. And we all laughed. Thanks.”

“Evie, I ain’t laughing.” His voice has turned dark, sensually serious. “Do you know how much that turns me on? You’re practically a virgin.”

“Storm . . .”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to show you everything. I’m going to make every part of you mine.” He pauses like he’s catching his breath. “I can’t wait to touch every inch of you. Fuck. I want to fly back there right now and just get my hands on you. This is killing me.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I know. But I fucking want to so bad. I’m going to teach you how to suck me, and you’re going to completely shatter me with those eyes of yours while you’re doing it. You really have no idea the power you have over me, Evie. It scares the shit out of me.”

My heart lurches at his words, the depth with which he says them.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Storm. I don’t want any power.”

“That’s good, baby, because I intend on taking it away. Are you naked in bed right now?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

I take a deep, trembling breath. “I have a light comforter over me, up to my waist. I have one of the pillows propped up against the headboard, and I’m leaning against it. The lights are off, but the TV is on. The toy is lying on the bed next to me.”

“I want you to do what I tell you to do, okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. I want you to touch yourself, slide your finger over your lips and tell me if you’re wet.”

I slowly follow his direction, transfixed by his voice.

“Yes, I am,” I tell him.

“Pick up the toy and spread the lube over it.”

I do as he says. “This thing is huge,” I whisper.

“Is it bigger than his?”

“Um, yeah. Quite a bit. I don’t think this will fit in me.” I think I need size S.

“It better because it’s smaller than me.”

Holy shit!

“Jesus, Storm . . .”

He’s breathing heavier. I think he’s stroking his cock as we’re talking. I wish I could see him, touch him.

“Are you touching yourself?” I whisper.

“Yes, I’m so fucking hard for you right now. Will you take the toy and rub it against your clit?”

“Yes . . . lemme just try to do this without dropping the phone. You could have gotten a smaller one.”

“Baby, you are such a little train wreck.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

This will never work. He’s used to professional sluts who know how to suck him like a Shop-Vac in a flood, and probably know how to work this vibrating rabbit. I am clumsy and completely sexually incompetent.

“Don’t be sorry, Evie. You’re exactly what I need. You frustrate the hell out of me, but I love it more and more every day.”

“I’m a mess . . . you’re right . . .” I feel like I’m going to cry. I can’t even do phone sex right. There is no way I will be able to keep a guy like him satisfied.

“You’re going to be my mess. Now, cut the shit. I can’t take this anymore. I want you to take the toy and rub yourself with the tip of it.”

“Should I turn it on?”

“Not yet. Just lie back and listen to me. Stop thinking.”

I tentatively rub the tip of the vibrator against me.

“Now, slowly push it in just a tiny bit.” I do. I can feel myself getting wetter. I feel naughty.

“Turn it on and put the bunny ears right over your clit.”

I do that, and the little buzzing ears vibrate a million thousand times on my already quivering bud.

Holy shit! Where has this thing been my whole life?

“Oh, wow . . .” I say breathlessly.

“It’s nice, huh? I wish that was my tongue licking you, but for now, this will have to do.”

I press the little ears harder against me. “I loved when you licked me,” I tell him. “I never felt anything like that. Ever. It was even better than the hot tub.”

“You just wait, baby. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” His breathing is becoming heavier, faster, as is mine. I can hear his hand on his flesh.

“I want you to slowly slide the vibrator into you, Evie. Keep the little ears pressed against you.”

“Okay . . .” I push the head of the toy inside myself, but it’s not going in easy. It’s wide and feels too big. I want it, though. I’m so turned on from the vibrating and knowing he is touching himself right now, thinking about me.

“It’s tight, Storm. I can barely push it in.”

“Fuck, baby. I want you to try to get more in. I want you to know what I’m going to feel like. Close your eyes and think about me. Pretend that’s my cock, slowly ramming into you.”

Ramming.

I slowly push more of the toy inside me. I feel my insides spreading. It hurts, but I push a little further. The vibrating sensation is wild, making my entire body light up and want to be touched.

“Feel how I’m going to spread you open around my cock, Evie. Feel how deep I’m going to go into you.”

“Oh, God, Storm . . .”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes . . . so good.”

“I’m going to come. I want you to with me. Can you?”

“Yes . . . please.” I push the toy in and out, faster and deeper. It hurts, but I don’t care. The pleasure is outweighing the pain. Envisioning Storm inside me takes all the pain away. I want him in me, just like this.

“Storm . . . now . . .” My words are gone, stolen by the orgasm that sweeps over my body. I hear his breath in my ear, gasping. He sounds so incredibly hot. I wish so badly I was there with him, my hand on his cock instead of his own.

We’re quiet for a few moments, basking in the wooziness of post-orgasm, listening to each other’s breathing.

I pull the toy out of me and turn it off. Shit. My body feels like Jell-O. Every orgasm I’ve had in Storm’s presence has been intense and exhausting.

“Thank you for doing that with me, Evie. That was sexy as hell.”

“No, thank you for sending me this thing.”

He laughs deeply. “Don’t enjoy it too much. I want you to need me to make you feel good.”

“Whoever invented this thing is a genius,” I say. “And don’t worry, I don’t think it can take your place.”

“It better not. Or else it will suffer my wrath.”

I giggle at him. “I wish you were here,” I tell him. “I looked at our picture at least a hundred times today.”

“I may have done that, too.”

I glance over at the clock. It’s getting late, but I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to let him off the phone. I wish I could feel his arms wrapped around me again like he did in the truck.

“Evelyn, I really like you like this. Letting your walls down. I love hearing you laugh.”

“It’s hard, Storm. I feel guilty and like I don’t deserve to be happy.”

“I get that. I really do. But you’re not a bad person, Evie. And I know I’ve dragged you into a lot of situations you didn’t want to be in, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry for making you happy, and hopefully, getting the chance to make you even happier and getting you to step out of your comfort zone and enjoy life a bit more. Life’s too short to be miserable.”

“I know . . .”

“Did you say you were on the pill?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because when we make love, I don’t want to use anything. I just want to feel you.”

I’m not sure how I feel about that, knowing he’s been with so many women. “Storm . . . that makes me a little nervous.”

“You think I have a disease?”

I gulp. “Yes. You said you sleep around . . .”

“I always use protection, and I get tested every six months, just to be sure. I’m going to send you copies of my results.”

“Storm . . . you don’t have to do that—”

“Yes, I do. I want you to feel safe with me. It’s not a problem at all. I have digital records of everything. I’ll send it all to you so you can feel comfortable with me.”

I feel awful making him prove his sexual health status to me, but in all honesty, it will alleviate my worries.

“All right. I’m sorry, Storm. I hate to make you feel like that. I really do.”

“Evie, it’s totally normal. No worries at all, okay, baby?”

“I’m looking at apartments tomorrow night,” I tell him, wanting to change the subject. “I found three I might be able to swing.”

“I told you if you need money, I will help you. There’s no reason for you to stress about that.”

“Storm, no. I need to do this on my own. I appreciate the offer, but I really need to just do this myself.”

He relents. “All right, babe. I’m proud of you for being so strong, but the offer stands. You’d better go to sleep. I don’t want you playing with the bunny all night, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” I tease.

We say our goodbyes and I fall asleep, mentally and physically exhausted.

LOOKING AT APARTMENTS BY MYSELF HAS a bigger impact on me than I thought it would. At first, I thought of this just as an escape. A place to just stick my things in until . . . until what, I’m not sure.

But now, actually looking at these apartments, I suddenly feel very independent. Strong. For the first time in my life, I’m doing something just for me, by myself. With no one’s direction, or help, or assistance.

Apartment number three feels magical to me. It’s attached to an older couple’s large home but is completely separate from their house with its own entrance. The woman’s mother had lived there before she had to go into a nursing home. It has two bedrooms, a large bathroom, small kitchen, and large living room with a dining area off to the side. Both the master bedroom and the dining area have built-in window seats—perfect for me to write in my journal and for Halo to sunbathe. The rooms have vaulted, beamed ceilings, and everything is decorated with very soft and earthy warm beige, corals and jades. It feels cozy and just . . . right. It’s still fully furnished with beautiful furniture that looks like it’s never been touched, and pretty artwork of flowers and hummingbirds hang on the walls. All the paintings have hummingbirds.

Jane, the owner, smiles when she sees me looking at the paintings. “My mother . . . she painted all of these when she was younger. She had a fascination with hummingbirds.”

“She’s very talented,” I exclaim. “They are all so beautiful. She really captured them. Who doesn’t love hummingbirds?”

She beams then shows me the closets with built-in storage shelves and drawers, and proudly informs me the appliances are all under two years old. I love her. She is sweet and reminds me of my mother.

Standing in the living room, I know this is where I want to live. This is where I want to start my new life.

“I love it here. It’s perfect. I would love to live here if you approve.”

“May I ask, is it just you who will be living here?”

“Yes . . . and my very elderly cat that is deaf. He’s very clean, though, doesn’t have any bad habits. I have a boyfriend who may stay occasionally, but he would not be living here permanently.”

“Oh, that would be no problem at all. I’m a cat lover myself. I have two. I like you, Evelyn. I think you would be a wonderful tenant. I’ve been rather picky about who I want to live here, as it’s attached to our home and everything here belonged to my mother. Sadly, she didn’t get to stay here long and couldn’t take any of it with her, so if you need it, all of the furniture could stay. We honestly have no use for it. I have four bedrooms in the house and they are already furnished, and we don’t need a living room set.”

“Jane, I don’t even know what to say. That would really help me so much. I don’t really have any furniture of my own. And I absolutely love all of this. I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. I can pay you for it—”

She puts up her hands. “Absolutely not. I just ask that you take good care of it. I would love for it all to be used and not wasted or out on the curb. I don’t have time to sell furniture. It’s been hard enough trying to find a tenant. If you’re interested, then it’s all yours.”

I nod, a big smile growing across my face. “Yes. I definitely want it. As soon as possible.”

I’m so excited about the apartment, I call Storm as soon as I get in the car. Usually, I don’t just call him unexpectedly, but I can’t wait to share the news with him.

“Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you.” I can hear people talking and random guitar sounds in the background. They must be setting up for their show tonight.

“I have good news! I just found the best apartment ever! I can move in as soon as I want!”

“Holy shit, that’s awesome. Hang on a sec while I try to find a quieter place.”

I hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone and the sounds of the guys fade.

“Okay, this is better. Sorry about that. I’m really excited for you.”

“I am, too. It’s just so cozy, and it’s in a safe place in a nice neighborhood.” I give him all the details about the furniture and the owners.

“It sounds terrific, Evie. Do you need any help moving? I won’t be back home for a few weeks, but I could send someone over. Lukas isn’t on this tour with us. I’m sure he’d help ya out, no problem.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m going to leave the furniture with Michael. I’ll just have my boxes, and I can handle those by myself. Amy will give me a hand. I’m just so excited and nervous.”

“You’re gonna be fine, babe. I can’t wait to see it.”

“Really? Will you come over to see it when you get home?”

“Of course,” he says like I’m crazy. “Evie, if you leave Michael, I want to see you as much as possible. I thought you knew that.”

“I just . . .” I don’t know what to say. “I’m afraid you’re going to change your mind, or get bored. I don’t know what I think, Storm.”

“Evie, I’m not going to change my mind or get bored. I want us to date like normal people and get to know each other. I need you to believe that. I know shit sucks right now, with you being with him and me being away and all the other crap we’ve been through, but I just wanna put it behind us when I get back home.”

“I do believe you . . . I just keep thinking what you told me in the truck, about how you don’t do relationships.”

“I didn’t. Not for a long time. Being stuck with you, talking to you, seeing your eyes light up, sleeping with you in my arms, fuckin’ arguing with you, turning you on . . . it all made me want this. Did I expect it? Hell no. But now that I feel it, I want it.”

I close my eyes and lean the phone against my face, absorbing his words, letting them seep into the deepest parts of me that are scared.

“Storm, the guys are waiting for you.” I hear a female voice in the background. The hairs on my arm rise up. I know it’s her.

“I’ll be there in a few,” he yells back.

“You’re holding everyone up,” she says. “As usual.”

Go away, ho.

“Are you deaf? I said I’ll be there in a fucking minute.” His voice is nasty, rude even, in a way I’ve never heard before. I would never want that directed at me.

“Is that her?” I ask, hating the jealousy in my voice.

“Yes.”

“Great.”

“I swear on Niko, nothing is going on or has gone on. I’ve been in my room alone every night, talking to you, texting you, or thinking about you. I’m not a liar, Evelyn. You may not always like my truth, but you will always get it.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “I believe you, Storm.” And I do. He’s not perfect. He comes with sharp edges. But one thing I’ve come to realize is that he’s real, raw, and honest. I know when he says something he means it. Period.

“I better go or Vandal will be throwing a fit. He’s been in a shit mood all day, saying we’re all off. He and Ash have been at each other’s throats, and I’m sick of playing referee.”

“Oh . . . I hope things get better.”

“He’ll calm down, eventually. I probably won’t get to talk to you tonight. By the time the show ends and I get back to the hotel, it’ll be after midnight. I don’t like keeping you up every night.”

“Storm, I don’t mind. I love hearing your voice before I go to sleep.”

“Me, too. I’ll see how late it is. Just don’t worry if you don’t hear from me, okay?”

“I promise I won’t freak out.”

“Good. And Evie? I’m really happy about your apartment. I can’t wait to be there with you.”

He hangs up and I hold on to the phone for a few seconds. Every time we part, whether it is in person or on the phone, I feel like a piece of me is pulled away. Like a puzzle missing one piece.

I pull my journal out of my bag and jot a few quick notes in my list.

Pack.

Talk to Michael.

Send Jane a thank you card.

Change my address.

I feel good about my list. I can do these things.

Before pulling away from the curb, I take one more look at the place that will soon be my new home, and I feel at peace.

I’m barely home for five minutes and my cell phone starts ringing with an unknown ringtone and number. I frown at the screen and answer it.

“Hello.”

“Evelyn, it’s Aria Valentine. Have I reached you at a convenient time?”

Aria! Storm’s mother. Eeek!

“Yeah . . . Of course. How are you?”

My mind scrambles. Why is she calling me? Did something happen to Storm? I just spoke to him not thirty minutes ago. Maybe she dug up some dirt on me? But I don’t have any dirt. She hates me. She doesn’t want her favorite son dating a chick who’s already living with someone—

“I’m great, a little crazy busy right now, which is why I’m calling you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked Storm for your number.”

I sit on the loveseat and kick my heels off. “No, of course, that’s fine. Any time. Can I help you with anything?”

“Actually, I think you can. If you’re interested, of course.”

I have no idea where this is going. What could I possibly help Aria Valentine with?

She continues to talk. Her voice is so elegant; it just drips class. I love her confidence and self-assuredness.

“I had to fire my personal assistant this morning. I found out she was leaking pieces of my unreleased manuscripts without my knowledge. I’m absolutely devastated; she’s worked for me for five years, and I never thought she would do such a thing. I trusted her with everything. Of course, the poor girl apologized until she was hoarse, but I simply can’t have an assistant who I can’t trust one hundred percent.”

“Oh, Aria, that’s awful. I’m so sorry to hear this. I can understand how disappointed you must be.”

Geez, a person just can’t trust anyone these days.

“Disappointed is an understatement. The reason I’m calling is that I’d like to offer you the job. I know you have a background in marketing and project management. I would need help with organizing my calendar for events, updating my social media and website, making appointments, sending out autographed books and promotional materials, monitoring my email and replying to those I don’t need to personally review, hawking the reviews online and letting me know of anything terribly critical. You'd even be doing some research, and I’d ask you to beta read my new manuscripts, make sure everything is running on time, and I don’t miss deadlines. There’s a lot, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure. It’s really just about keeping me on track and helping me do the things I can’t get to. Storm said you would be perfect, and I totally trust his judgment. He says your boss is an ass.”

I’m floored. Aria Valentine is asking me to be her personal assistant. Is she crazy? I don’t know anything about assisting a bestselling author.

I try to compose myself. “Aria, I’m flattered, but I really don’t know if I’m the best person for this. I have no experience in this field at all. I would feel absolutely horrible if I let you down.”

“Evelyn, I’m sure you can do this. I can teach you anything you need to know. All of it is mostly just common sense and organization, to be honest. Things I’m just too lazy or busy to do myself. I may be busy, but I’m very easy to work for.”

“Honestly, it sounds amazing, but I just today put a deposit on an apartment. It’s way too far away from where you live. I could never make the drive every morning.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. This is mostly a virtual position—you can do this all from home. That’s how my last girl did it. We met up maybe once a month in person. Everything else, we did over the phone, or using email, text message and video-conference. I can send you a bunch of materials to keep at your house.”

Wow. A work-at-home position? I could sit in my new cute little apartment and work for a famous author. I could wear yoga pants all day! I wouldn’t have to deal with office politics and Jack’s condescending remarks.

“Before you say anything else, the salary is sixty-five thousand and I will pay for private health insurance for you. I also reimburse you for any mileage, phone bills, and any home office equipment you may need.”

Holy moly. That’s more money than I’m making right now. I could actually pay off some of my debts and start to save some money. This would totally change my life.

“And one last thing,” she adds. “This has nothing to do with your relationship with my son. Your job will not hinge on anything to do with him, I promise. I will even put that in an employment contract, if it will make you feel better.”

“Aria, that’s not necessary; I trust you. I think I’m in shock right now. This is an incredible offer for me, like a dream come true.” I take a deep breath. So many things are happening at once, and I feel a bit overwhelmed. This opportunity sounds way too good for me to pass up.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you think it over and give me a call tomorrow evening? I know I just threw a lot at you, and it’s a lot to process. I don’t expect you to make a decision right now. Please, think it over. I would love for you to work for me. I think you would really enjoy it. If you decide it isn’t for you, that’s also fine. I will understand completely.”

“That would actually be great. I apologize, it’s just been a crazy day, and this is really a surprise.”

Her voice is sweet and comforting. “Evelyn, no worries at all. It’s a big decision. If you have any questions, you just let me know. I will really be delighted, though, if you accept. I have a feeling you could use a change, a new path maybe.”

I laugh softly in agreement. “That’s true, I really could.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. Give me a buzz tomorrow and we’ll talk. Have a good night, sweetie.”

“You, too. And thank you so much for thinking of me.”

I lie back on the loveseat and stare up at the ceiling. So many decisions to be made that it’s making my head hurt. For years, my life has been the same, unchanging—days just passing, one fading into the next with no real difference. All these changes on the horizon are scary. Making decisions is not exactly my strong point, and now I have many that need to be made all at once. I want to go to bed and just hide from all of this.

No. That’s what the old Evelyn would do, and spent years doing. The new Evelyn, the new me, isn’t going to run and hide and let life pass her by anymore. I stand and walk across the room to the mantle where the snow globe Storm gave me is perched. I pick it up, shake it gently, and watch the tiny snowflakes swirl. Getting lost that day completely changed my life.

TWO WEEKS. FOURTEEN DAYS. A NEW home. A new job. And Storm.

I can do this.

Giving notice at my job wasn’t easy. I agonized over what to say. I felt guilty for leaving, as if my departure would have any impact on the company. I liked to hope that it would, but according to Jack’s last words, I had become completely useless as of late. Ouch.

I arranged for cable TV, internet, and phone services to be turned on at my new apartment. Jane has been nice enough to let me stop by several times before my official move-in date so I could slowly bring over some of my belongings and stock the refrigerator and cabinets with groceries.

I miss Storm like mad since he’s been touring, but being apart has also brought us closer together. Hours spent on the phone at night and countless text messages have given us the opportunity to talk about everything under the sun. I’m falling in love with him more and more each day, my fears and wariness slowly dissipating. He is patient and understanding. He listens when I need him to and nudges me when I need a bit of a push. We’ve included the bunny on a few of our phone calls, each time a little bit more erotic than the last. The man has a major sensual side that I am slowly growing less afraid of.

Tonight, I will tell Michael, the man I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life with, that I am no longer in love with him. I have no idea how he’ll react. Will he be mad? Glad? I truly don’t know. He’s become a stranger to me these past few weeks. As I slowly pulled myself away from him, I realized there wasn’t much to our relationship at all. It was my attention, my conversation, my plans, which filled the majority of our relationship. Once I stopped those things, the emptiness between us inflated like a balloon. He still calls me every day, but these calls seem obligatory in nature. A check-in, for lack of a better description.

I debate for days on how best to end things. I consider just leaving him a letter and moving out while he’s out of town. That seems like a douchey maneuver, however, after spending twelve years together. Letting him come home to a letter stating his girlfriend moved out while he was on a business trip seemed pretty rude, even though it would save me the awkwardness of a face-to-face confrontation.

I don’t deserve the easy way out. I’ve behaved badly, and if he screams and yells, I deserve it. Unplanned or not, the things I’ve done with Storm should have never happened while I was still in a relationship. I have a strong suspicion that Michael has had another girlfriend for quite a while, but I should not have let myself sink to that level. I value commitment; I thrive on it, and I expect it. And I always gave it. Until Storm came along and rocked my world off its axis.

Storm asked me to wait until he is back in town to tell Michael, in case I need him. I don’t feel comfortable with that, though. Living with Michael for another two weeks, knowing I have a secret apartment set up and a lover coming home to me, would drive the guilt further and further into me. I don’t want any more of it.

Waiting on the couch for Michael, I look around our home and realize it’s devoid of anything ‘us.’ There are no photos of us on the walls. There are no objects he gave me or I gave him. I’m not sure how I’ve never noticed this before. Or am I just looking for things to be wrong?

I don’t know.

He comes in a little before dinnertime and throws his bags on the floor. He looks a little bit ruffled—his short hair messier than usual, his shirt not tucked in.

“Hey,” he says when he sees me.

“Hi.”

He goes into the kitchen and comes back out a few seconds later with a beer.

“Michael, I need to talk to you.”

He nods at me but doesn’t look at me. He’s sifting through the mail I had left on the coffee table. “I gotta take a shower. We can talk later, if ya want.”

I stand my ground. “No, I’d like to talk now, please.”

He throws the mail back on the table and sits on the arm of the couch, leaning his beer against his leg.

“Fine. What’s up?”

I take a deep breath. My insides are shaking. Once I do this, there’s no turning back. I will never be able to fix this or undo this decision.

“I’m not exactly sure how to even say this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m moving out.”

He blinks at me a few times, and his lip starts to twitch. I’ve seen that twitch a thousand times when he’s annoyed.

“What?”

“I’m moving out. I found an apartment. Things just aren’t good between us, Michael. I’m sorry. I just need to end this.”

A disgusted smile crosses his lips. “You’re leaving me?”

I nod, a little nervous that he seems angrier than I expected him to be. “Yes. We’re not happy together . . . you’re never home.”

“I’m fucking working, Evelyn.”

“I know, but I’m still alone all the time. I don’t like it.”

He takes a gulp of his beer. “You sound like a baby. I can’t babysit you 24/7.”

I wince at his words. Yes, I have been clingy in the past. But I have been better in the past two years, trying to keep myself occupied with work, and not asking him to do things with me as much as I used to.

“I understand that. And I don’t want you to.”

“What the hell is going on? I’ve been working my ass off and sitting on a goddamn plane all day, and I have to come home to this bullshit from you?”

“I’m in love with someone else. And I’m not quite sure of your fidelity either, considering I’ve found a bracelet in our couch.”

He stands up and paces the room. “I told you where that came from. And what do you mean you’re in love with someone else?”

I pull one of the couch pillows onto my lap and rub my hand over it absently. “Tell me something, Michael. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve been faithful? Can you tell me you’re in love with me?”

His blue eyes hold mine for a long time, at first defiant, and then his gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head. “No. I can’t.” He looks back up at me. “I’m sorry.”

His words hurt deeply, but I can’t say I’m surprised. I sit in silence for a few moments, just letting the truth sink in.

“I do love you, Ev. But things have been difficult. Your depression and anxiety over every fucking thing . . . it’s been exhausting for me. I don’t know how to deal with it. After your parents died, you changed. You stopped smiling. You used to be so much fun, so silly and full of life. I was too young to deal with the responsibility of caring for someone so full of grief. I know that’s not your fault. I’m not an asshole, Ev. You know that. But I didn’t want to be dragged into your hole with you.”

“If I was so horrible, why did you stay all these years?” My voice is louder than I want it to be, but I’m mad he’s thrown my depression into my face. All this time, I thought he was the understanding boyfriend, while inside he was slowly hating me. I feel emotionally betrayed, embarrassed even, that I cried in front of him so many times, thinking he understood what I was going through.

“How could I leave? You were a mess. I was afraid another loss would throw you over the edge.”

I lose it right then. My soul just cracks. “So, you felt sorry for me all these years? That’s all it’s been for almost twelve years? Pity for the poor depressed girl?”

“I guess in a way, yes, if you want to put it that way. I kept hoping you would snap out of it. Evelyn, think about it—back then, you wouldn’t even let me near you. You froze every time I touched you. You still do.”

My strength is slowly fading, the demons taking over again. Reminding me of who and what I am. Inadequate. Damaged. Emotionally unstable. I have spent years of my life with someone who felt sorry for me. Who was afraid to leave me because he thought I would hurt myself or sink deeper into a hole. I suppose I should feel grateful that he stayed at all, that he cared enough to not put me through that. But I don’t.

He sits on the couch, closer to me but not too close. “Ev, I’m sorry. I thought just letting things be for a while would be best for you. I thought it would either get better or I would eventually leave. But one year turned into two, then two into three . . .”

“Well, I’m sorry we wasted so many fucking years together.”

He looks relieved in a way, like a big weight has been taken off him. A weight named Evelyn, obviously.

I turn to him. “How long have you had a girlfriend? How many have there been?”

He lets out a deep breath. “There was one when I was twenty that lasted a few months. Then another one a few years ago that lasted about a year. Then I met Sue about two years ago, and we’ve been together since. She lives by the other office. I stay with her when I travel there for work.”

I feel like he’s physically slapped me. “You spent Christmas with her.”

Guilt shrouds his face. “Yes.”

I jump up, sending the pillow flying. “So, you’ve been carrying on two relationships for two years? And sleeping with both of us? Does she know about me?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head at him in shock, tears of anger springing into my eyes. I’m fully aware I am not entirely innocent either, but for him to be in a relationship with another woman for two whole years is unfathomable to me.

“You’re sick.” I spit the words at him.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else, so obviously you haven’t exactly been faithful either, Evelyn. Have you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. But I haven’t been sleeping with someone for two years, letting you believe we had a future together. Once I realized I was serious about someone else, I decided to end things with you before it went any further.”

He laughs sarcastically at me. “That’s really noble of you, Ev. So, who is this guy? Someone at the office?”

I waver for just a moment before I answer. “No. It’s Storm.”

His expression is shocked, then angry. “You can’t be serious, Evelyn.”

“I am.”

“Are you out of your fucked-up mind? Do you even know who he is? He’s boned every damn lingerie model from here to California. What the hell would he want with you?”

Apparently, the idea of anyone actually wanting to be with me is ridiculous. Duly noted.

“He cares about me,” I answer defiantly.

“As a friend, Ev. Don’t confuse that with any actual interest. I can’t believe you’re letting some fucking crush on a rock star lead you into making life-altering decisions.” He stalks into the kitchen and grabs another beer, slamming the fridge. “I’m seriously worried about you, Evelyn. What the hell are you doing?”

I open the hall closet door and pull out Halo’s cat carrier. I really hadn’t planned to stay here tonight, but didn’t want to make any definite decisions until after I told Michael. Now I know I have to leave tonight. Most of my things have already been moved into my apartment. I can come back for whatever is left while he’s at work and never have to see him again.

“You don’t know him, Michael. I do. I know that’s hard for you to believe, what with me being so awful and all. We’ve spent a lot of time together while you were off with your girlfriend ‘working.’ He took care of me when I was sick. He took me to his family’s house for Christmas. He’s not the person you see on stage.”

“And how many times has he fucked you?”

“Not once,” I sneer in his face.

He looks triumphant. Glad, even. “Then I guess he can’t be too interested, can he?”

“Whatever. Think what you want, Michael. I’m leaving now. I’ll come back for my things while you’re at work. I’m leaving all the furniture. You can have it. I split our savings account in half. I think that’s fair.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

I gently pick up Halo and place him in the carrier. “Yes. I think we’re pretty much done here. Now you can focus on your girlfriend and not have to worry about me.”

“Evelyn, you’re making a huge mistake. Storm is going to fucking destroy you. He’s going to fuck you like a toy for a few weeks and dump your ass. No way in hell is someone like him going to stay with you. You’re crazy if you think so.”

“It’s not your problem, is it? You’re free of me now.” I pick up the carrier and my purse and head for the door, but he grabs my arm and whips me around.

“I still care about you, Ev. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I didn’t spend twelve years of my life trying to make sure you’re okay so some asshole can mess you all up and kick you to the curb. You’ve been so . . . sheltered. You don’t know how to deal with people like him.”

I wrench my arm out of his grip. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

I leave quickly, without looking back. By the time I reach my car and have Halo’s carrier strapped to the front seat, I’m crying and shaking. Michael just threw every fear I already had into my face. What if he’s right? What if I really have disillusioned myself about Storm?

I start the car but pull my phone out before I drive off. I have a bunch of text messages from Storm.

Storm: Just wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re okay. I know this is hard for you.

Storm: You okay, baby?

Storm: I gotta get on stage now. Kind of worried. Don’t like it. Text me.

A sense of peace washes over me as soon as I step into my new apartment. I feel safe here, surrounded by these soft, soothing colors. There’s no negativity here, no bad memories.

I show Halo where his food dishes and litter box are and watch him creep around the rooms, sniffing everything. I hope he likes it here as much as I do.

I send Jane a text, telling her I have officially moved in as I’d promised I would. I’m not ready to text Storm yet. I need to be alone with my feelings for a little while and clear my head. Hearing Michael admit he’s had not one, but several long-term affairs completely shocked me. I never even realized or suspected anything. Was that because I trusted him, or because I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I just didn’t notice?

I need to sleep, to rest my mind and body. I take a Valium, something I haven’t done in a very long time. I just need my brain to stop for a while. I undress and crawl into my new king-sized bed. It reminds me of Storm’s bed, plush and cozy. I don’t feel scared here, being alone, like I did at the condo. I feel like I’m home.

My brain, on the other hand, feels numb. Somewhat disconnected from my own life. I once read the brain will sometimes just shut off to try to protect us from feeling too much. I think that’s what’s happening to me right now. Or maybe it’s the Valium starting to take effect. Either way, I welcome the fog that settles in my mind.

The buzz of my cell phone startles me. I pick it up and see Michael’s number on the screen. Seriously, why would he even call? I hit ’ignore’, but a few minutes later I have a voice mail, which I’m not sure I even want to hear. What could he possibly have to say? I should just delete it, but curiosity wins and I press ‘play’.

“Ev, it’s me. I just wanted to say . . . I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I do love you. I-I don’t want to lose you. I want you to come home. Let’s talk about this. Maybe we can work this out somehow. I don’t know how, but maybe. I just think you’re going to get hurt. Just think about what you’re doing. Think about who you’re putting yourself with. What kind of life could you possibly have with him? You’re afraid to leave the house most of the time. You hate me being gone all the time. Fuck, how are you going to deal with dating someone famous who’s on tour half the year? With women offering themselves to him? C’mon, Ev. I think you’re star-struck or something. Just come back home. You don’t have to do this. All right . . . just call me, I guess.”

Come back? And do what? Share him with another woman? Crawl back into my dull, clueless, passionless existence?

No.

BANGING. BANGING. RINGING. RINGING. THE NOISE is slowly pulling me out of my slumber. What is that racket? I slowly lift my head, unsure of where I am. I look around the room and it all comes back to me. The clock next to my bed says eleven-forty-five P.M. Holy shit, I slept for freaking fourteen hours!

What the hell is that noise? Someone is banging on my door and leaning on the doorbell. I climb out of bed and head down the hallway toward my front door. I swear if Michael somehow figured out where I live and came here, I will strangle him.

I stand on my tip-toes and peer out the little door peephole. Holy. Shit.

Quickly, I unlock the door, not able to open it fast enough. He rushes in and has me in his arms so fast I almost fall on my ass.

“Storm. What are you doing here?” I can’t believe he’s really here. I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tighter than I ever have. God, he feels so good.

He pulls away slightly and holds my face in his hands. “I was so fucking worried about you.” He kisses my lips, softly at first, then deeper with an urgency I’ve never felt from him.

“I’ve been calling and texting you like crazy, Evie. I called Amy to get your address and took the first flight I could out here.”

I try to catch my breath, breathless from his kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I lean against him and bring my lips back to his, kissing him softly, tasting him. He tastes like bubblegum.

He breaks away from me and runs his hands through his hair.

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? Did you change your mind?” He grabs both of my hands in his. He looks so worried and totally frazzled. He’s unshaven, his shirt wrinkled. It seems like he jumped on a plane right after his concert.

“Changed my mind? About what?”

He looks around my apartment and then back at me. “About me. About us.”

I shake my head frantically. “No . . . of course not. It was just . . .” I try to find the right words. “ . . . so horrible with Michael. I was upset. By the time I got here, my head was just killing me and I couldn’t deal with any more of it . . . so I took a Valium and it completely knocked me out.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “I can’t believe you came here. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible now. It must have cost you a fortune to get here so fast—”

“Evie, I don’t give a shit about that. I just needed to see you.” Holding my hand, he walks me to the couch and pulls me down onto his lap. “This place is really cute, just like you. I like it.”

I snuggle against his chest. “I do, too. I like it even better with you here.”

His hand goes to my neck and gently pulls my mouth to his. He kisses me so softly, his lips traveling across my cheek, then down my neck, lightly sucking and biting along the way. His other hand slides up the back of my t-shirt then slowly comes around to cup my naked breast beneath the thin material, his thumb rubbing over my nipple.

“So, this is it?” he whispers between kisses. “It’s just me and you now?”

“Yes. It’s over with him.”

The biggest smile ever spreads across his face. “I’m so fuckin’ happy, baby.” He pulls me in for another long kiss. “The whole flight, I was worried I would get here and you wouldn’t be here. And you’d tell me you changed your mind and stayed with him.”

I move on his lap until I’m straddling him and rest my hands on his chest. “Never. I want to be with you.” I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, he’s still staring at me, smiling. “Just . . . please, Storm. Don’t hurt me. I’m so scared to be with you, but I’m even more scared to be without you.”

He tilts his head at me and lifts my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes again. “Evie, I will not hurt you. Yes, we’ll fight and annoy each other. I’ll probably be an asshole sometimes, when I’m tired or pissed off about something, but I will not screw this up. We’re on this ride together, okay?”

His large hands encircle my waist then slide up my back, pulling me down to him. His lips come down on mine again, his tongue meeting mine for a sensual dance. I sigh as his hands slowly lift my shirt until my breasts are bare. He leans back against the couch and just looks at me for a few moments, his hands coming around and covering my breasts, lightly pinching my nipples. Bringing his lips to my chest, he drags his tongue between them, squeezing them in his hands as his tongue moves from one to the other. Flicking over my nipples, it sends a million little lightning bolts up and down my spine. My hands go up to cradle his head, my fingers in his hair as he licks and sucks. Straddling him this way, I can feel his cock between my legs growing harder.

He pulls away and looks up at me, flashing me that devilish, sexy smirk. His signature stage smirk that drives the girls wild. I love when it’s just for me. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined you’d be. I haven’t touched a pair of real tits in about ten years. I could sit here all day and just touch and lick you.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He nods then flips us over. In one smooth move, I’m flat on my back on the couch and he’s lying on top of me, propped up on his arm. His hair hangs down into my face, tickling me.

“You bet your sweet ass that’s a compliment. You’re going to have a hard time keeping me away from you.”

He lowers himself and meets my lips, letting his weight down on me. This is the first time he’s laid on top of me, and he feels massive and muscular. So solid and strong. His shoulders and back are broad, spanning almost the entire width of the couch. Wanting to feel his flesh, I lift the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he quickly pulls it off and throws it on the floor. My hands go to him in a frenzy, running up and down his rippling back. Damn, he feels good. He nudges my legs apart with his thigh and settles between them, heavy and hard.

He devours my mouth with kisses, his hand on my breast, squeezing then lightly tugging my nipple—the painful pleasure of it driving me wild. His kisses are like a drug I can’t get enough of, so deep, his tongue caressing mine. I let my hand travel down the length of his back until I meet the waistband of his jeans, and then push my hand under the material to squeeze his muscled ass. Even his ass is hard as a rock. I want to see this man in a pair of tight boxers. Stat.

He pulls away from my lips, but not too far. “You’re asking for it,” he growls.

“I am,” I breathe out.

Yes. Asking. Begging.

“I have bad news,” he says.

My heart stills. My breathing halts.

“I only have a little over an hour before I have to get back on a plane for the concert tonight.”

“No . . .” Yes, I just whined. Like a teenager.

“I really don’t want to leave, baby. You have no idea how badly I want to stay here and lick every inch of you.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Two more weeks, Evie. Then I’m all yours. I told my mom you were gonna need a few days off when I get back so I can properly ravish you.”

I giggle. “Did you really? Why do I have a feeling you got me this job with your mom just so you can get me days off?”

He kisses my neck. “You got the job all on your own, baby. But I will be getting you days off. Fuck . . . I promised myself I wouldn’t start this when I got here. I don’t want our first time to be rushed with me leaving right after. I won’t do that.”

Ahh. I love him for this.

“That would upset me,” I reply, raining kisses on his bare chest.

“But . . . I would love to give you your first lesson. If you want it.”

What he’s saying slowly sinks in. A blowjob. Lesson one.

He’s leaning above me, watching my eyes, caressing my cheek with his fingers. His eyes are dark with lust. I don’t want him to leave this way, with a monster hard-on. Especially knowing Juggsy is on the other end of the plane, along with hundreds of other women who will be grabbing at him on stage tonight.

But even more than that, I want to give him something. A piece of me. I want to show him how much I want him, how happy he’s made me.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Show me how to get you off like you did for me on that table.”

His eyes widen and he kisses me hard. “You’re sure?” he asks.

I nod before I have a chance to back out.

He stands and gently pulls me with him, then lifts my t-shirt all the way off, throwing it on the floor with his.

He kisses my lips quickly. “Go in the kitchen and get a soda and a towel.” When I stand up, he spanks my ass playfully before I walk away.

Shit. A soda and a towel.

Don’t think.

When I come back to the couch, his eyes are so dark and intense it almost scares me. There’s this side to him that’s here right now that I’ve seen glimpses of, that is incredibly sensual and powerful. It literally seeps out of him. It completely obliterates his normal sweet, sexy smile and laughing eyes.

“I want you to undress me.” His voice is low and gravelly, like when he sang on stage that night.

I kneel in front of him and undo the laces on his boots, pulling them and his black socks off. Swallowing hard, I unbuckle his belt, my fingers trembling. I unbutton his jeans, pull the zipper down and tug his jeans and boxers all at once and down his legs. He lifts his feet so I can pull them off completely.

He spreads his tattoo-covered legs a bit more, giving me room to kneel between them. I finally let my eyes wander to his long, thick cock. He was right—it is bigger than the vibrator and looks to be twice as big as Michael’s. I fight the urge to gulp and stare. My vag muscles clench just looking at him.

He takes my hand and puts it over his cock, gently squeezing my hand around him, his eyes pinned to mine. I grip him gently, slowly moving my hand up and down the length of him. He touches my face, his thumb grazing over my lower lip, and then pushes his thumb past my lips into my mouth. His eyes are dancing with fire, his breath quickening already. His thumb is slightly calloused and a bit salty. I run my tongue over it and feel it pressing against the roof of my mouth.

“Suck on my finger, Evie,” he says, his eyes lowered to my lips.

Obeying, I suck his finger further into my mouth and roll my tongue around it, sucking the tip like a lollipop.

“Don’t forget your hand.” His voice is just above a whisper. My hand has stilled on his cock as I am mesmerized with his finger in my mouth. I start to stroke him, feeling the ridges of him, the dampness at the head. I suck his finger deeper into my mouth until my lips reach his palm.

“You’re going to lick and suck just like that, baby.” He licks his lips. “And use your hand at the same time, like you’re doing now.”

He drags his thumb out of my mouth and wipes my saliva on the head of his cock. Him touching himself turns me on immensely.

He gathers my long hair in his hand and holds it back away from my face as he gently nudges my head downward. With one hand on his muscled thigh and my other on his cock, I swipe my tongue over the head then lower my mouth down over him, my lips gliding over the crown and down his shaft. Taking a breath, I try to take more of him until my gag reflex kicks in.

He gives my neck a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to take it all. It feels so good just like you’re doing. Use your hand a little bit, move it up and down with your mouth.”

I do as he says, wrapping my fingers around his width like a fist and sliding it up and down his length in unison with my mouth, sucking harder, then softer, then harder again. I peer up at him, past his chiseled abs, over his inked chest, to his face. His head is leaning back against the couch, his eyes closed, lips parted a bit. He looks absolutely, insanely hot. I swirl my tongue over the head and suck it back into my mouth, deeper this time. He lets out a moan and his eyes fly open and meet mine. His hand tightens a bit at the back of my head, and his hips thrust up a tiny bit as I suck him. I can feel he’s getting closer.

“Fuck. That feels so good . . . Keep doing that, baby.” His breathing is becoming more ragged, his shaft swelling in my mouth with each suck. It’s exhilarating, having him pulsing on my tongue.

“You don’t have to swallow it,” he whispers. “Just let it fill your mouth and spit it in the towel if you want and take a drink.”

Fill your mouth.

His words make my insides quiver. I squeeze my thighs together, feeling wetness between my legs. I have the urge to climb up on him right now and just take him deep inside me, to watch his eyes flutter closed and feel his muscles tightening beneath me as I ride him.

“Baby . . .” He gives a slight thrust and his cum spurts to the back of my throat: hot, thick, and salty. I wasn’t prepared for the amount of it all, gulping as I continue to suck for a few more minutes until he softens. I slowly pull my mouth off him and reach for the soda, washing it down. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, leaving a small trail of his juice on my hand. I lean back on my heels to gaze up at him.

“Wow,” I say. His cock is lying against his stomach in a small puddle of cum. I take the towel and gently wipe him clean while he watches me with a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“Come here, you,” he says huskily. I crawl up on his lap, Storm pulling my legs to either side of him so I’m straddling him. The boy shorts I wore to bed last night are thin, allowing me to feel his cock pressed against me through the light material. That’s exactly what he wants as he positions my lips directly over his shaft. Grasping my hips, he pulls me forward, grinding against me. His hand rises to my neck and pulls me down for a deep, wet kiss, his tongue searching out mine.

“I want you to rub yourself on me like this and get yourself off.”

I’m already there, moving against his cock, feeling the warmth seeping through my shorts. He starts to feast on my breasts as I grind on him, sucking and licking my pebbled nipples, his hand sliding down my back to grip my ass and pull me harder onto him. His tongue is magical, fluttering over my nipples, building the climax within me.

Suddenly, he pulls my body up, lifting me a few inches off him.

I moan in protest as he holds me away from the source of my pleasure

“Do you want that?” he whispers, his tongue gliding between my breasts, and up to my neck. He sucks my tender flesh into his mouth.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly. I was so close. I try to wiggle out of his hold to get my body back down onto his.

“Beg me.”

“Storm, please . . .” I grab fistfuls of his hair and bring his head back to mine, kissing him like a woman out of control.

“What, Evie?” He lowers me a tiny bit, but still not letting my body down onto his.

“Please, let me feel you.” My mind is spinning. All I want is to get back on him and feel him all over me.

He lets me down and I grind my pussy against him, so close to reaching my sweet release.

I cry out when he pulls me up again just when I’m about to come.

“Shit!” I practically scream, biting my lip.

His lips curl into a deviant smile.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Evie. I want you losing your mind for me.”

I run my hands down his arms, his muscles flexed tight as they hold me up.

“Please, Storm. You’re killing me.” I put my hands to his face and kiss him hungrily, my teeth crashing against his in my frenzy.

He releases me and his hands immediately go to my hips, pulling me hard against him, sliding his hands under my shorts and squeezing my flesh. His mouth captures my nipple as I ride him, his teeth biting into my sensitive tip, further igniting the fire growing inside me.

I grip his shoulders and arch my back, losing myself in his touch, until my orgasm rips through me, leaving me shuddering on top of him and panting like a wild puppy. He finds my lips and kisses me softly on my nose, my cheeks, my eyes, then rests his head against mine, wrapping his arms around me.

“That was awesome, baby. You drive me fucking wild.”

“You do the same to me.” I snuggle into him, dazed from the pleasure that wracked through my body.

He glances at his watch and groans. “Ugh, I don’t want to fly back there. I want to stay here and ravish you.”

“Can’t you stay?”

“I wish, but the band kind of needs a lead guitarist for a concert, love. So, I gotta go.”

I drag myself off him and watch him get dressed. I will never tire of looking at his perfect body. Pulling on my t-shirt, I try to fix my long, tangled hair. He looks down at me on the couch as he buckles his belt.

“I love the way you look at me,” he says, bending down and giving me a quick kiss before pulling his boots on.

“How do I look at you?”

“Like you love me.” He winks at me as he pulls his shirt over his head.

I do.

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“I have a rental car.”

I stand up and hug him. “I can’t believe you flew all the way out here just to see me.”

“I missed you, and all the phone sex was driving me crazy. This gave me an excuse to come see you and get my hands on you,” he teases. “And you get an A-plus for your first lesson. You blew my mind. Literally.”

“I’ll try to do better next time with the swallowing part,” I say awkwardly.

“You did amazing. I have zero complaints.”

We walk to the front door together where he pulls me in for a big hug. “I love your apartment, baby. I’m proud of you.” He holds up two fingers. “Two weeks and I’ll be back. Our last show is the local venue again. Will you come? You can hang backstage and meet the rest of the guys.”

I nod and smile, excited about seeing him play again. “I’d love that.”

He opens the door and leans against the frame, looking at me. “You okay?” he asks. “With all this? Leaving him? Me and you?”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re together, right?”

My God, he’s adorable sometimes. I grin at him. “Yes. You’re officially off the market, Mr. Valentine. I expect to see that on your social profiles.”

“Really? I’ll alert my staff.”

We kiss and I wave to him from the door as he drives off.

A few minutes later, my cell phone beeps with a text message:

Storm: By the way. I look at you the same way xo

Frowning at the screen, it takes me a moment to figure out what he’s saying.

My heart does a flip-flop. He’s falling in love with me, too.

I DUMP THE CONTENTS OF THE five shopping bags onto my bed and start cutting the tags off. Amy pretty much kidnapped me earlier and took me on a shopping spree for ‘sexy clothes.’ New jeans, tops, panties, bras, skirts, pumps, boots. All of it a little bit out of my comfort zone, but Amy says if I’m going to be dating Storm, then I should dress sexier when we go out or else social media will eat me.

At the time, I just rolled my eyes at her and let her dress me up like a little doll in each store, but now that I’m alone, my ol’ friends, fear and panic, are coming in for a visit.

Storm is kinda, sorta famous. He has fans, groupies, probably a stalker or two. Once we start dating for real and go out in public, these people are going to be looking at me. Judging me. I’ve seen pictures of him online with the models and actresses. I read the comments beneath the photos, some saying they were the hottest couple, some saying she was a fat skank and everything in between. People can be brutal sitting behind a keyboard.

Soon, those comments will be about me.

Me. A twenty-six-year-old, five-foot-two, one-hundred-and-thirty pound average girl who spends most of her free time with her cat. My hair color is real. I am not even close to being tan, ever. I wear sneakers most of the time—unless I’m in a blizzard, then my footwear of choice is the useless black pump. How would his fans react to him dating a nobody?

My focus since I’ve met Storm has been on the connection we formed. How he cares for me, and how much I care about him. The way he brings me out of my shell but also makes me feel safe. How he has taught me to feel passion. The pure contentment we feel just being together, holding hands. The way we can fight and then bounce right back together.

The fear of him possibly not being able to commit always just under the surface, but there, regardless.

I really never thought about the fact I would be under a microscope with him, and I’m not quite sure how my fragile psyche is going to deal with all that. I’m going to have to talk to him about this and get some advice.

I’m nervous as hell when I pull into the parking lot of the club. Since Storm and the band all arrived together on the bus straight from the road, the plan is for me to just meet him here, and we’ll go to my place together after the concert.

I text him from the parking lot, like he asked me to do.

Me: I’m here!

Storm: Awesome. Meet me at the back door, baby. I’ll be right there.

I walk around the side of the building, past a few dumpsters, to the back door. I tap on it lightly and it swings open. He pulls me inside, closing the door behind me as he backs me up against the wall, his body flush against mine. He smothers me with his body and lips, his hands tight on my waist. I drop my bag and wind my arms around his neck, craning my head up to meet his hungry mouth. Even with three-inch heels on, he still towers above me.

“Damn, I missed you,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to my neck. “You always smell so good.” He inhales and his lips find my earlobe, sucking gently, sending a shiver through my body.

“I missed you,” I reply, my mind dizzy already.

He pulls back and grabs my hand. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys before we have to get on stage.”

We walk down a dark hallway at the back of the club, mostly lined with old boxes and garbage cans. Then he takes us through another door where a few people are hanging out, tuning instruments, drinking, and talking.

“Hey, guys. I want you to officially meet Evelyn,” Storm announces.

“Also known as Blizzard Chick, for those of you who don’t know,” Asher adds. I give him a weak smile, not sure if he’s joking or being sarcastic. His resemblance to Storm still freaks me out a bit.

Storm grins, his grip on my hand tightening. “Yes, aka Blizzard Chick. Evie, you met my brother Ash already, and my cousin Lukas. That’s my brother, Talon, my other brother, Mikah, back by the drums, and my cousin, Vandal. That’s Robbie, he helps us out with shit, and that’s Jill.”

Jill. Juggsy. I was close.

They all say ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up’ or some other form of hello, and I smile shyly back at them and say ‘hi’.’ They are all incredibly good-looking, covered in tattoos and piercings, almost all of them with longish hair. Vandal sticks out like a black cloud on a summer day. His jet-black hair is the longest of them all, and messy, covering half his face. His eyes are dark, almost black, and his skin is the color of dark coffee, stretched over huge muscles. He has an intense gaze, unsmiling. He’s a bit scary, to be honest, but there is something about him that just commands attention. I feel like if he raised his voice just a little, I’d be cowering in the corner hugging myself in about two seconds.

Jill is giving me the evil eye, leaning against a large speaker, arms crossed. I try not to look at her face. I don’t want to see the mouth that was on Storm, obviously not requiring detailed directions like yours truly.

Storm gets me set up on a stool off to the side of the stage, hidden from the crowd. Nudging my legs apart with his, he moves to stand between my thighs and plants a kiss on my lips.

“I might steal this stool for later,” he teases, pressing his growing erection against me. His hand moves down the outside of my jean-clad thigh, pulling me tighter against his body. “I’m not sure I can play knowing you’re sitting right here, looking all hot.”

I fake a pout at him. “I’ve been dying to watch you play again.”

“We’re outta here as soon as this gig is over. I need to be alone with you.” He groans, his dark eyes lowering to gaze at my chest. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Clutching the sides of his open shirt, I kiss his naked chest, right below the heavy black cross hanging from his neck.

Letting out a deep breath, he pulls away. “Okay, baby. Time to go. You stay right here, all right?”

I nod and push his hair out of his face so I can look up into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ever.

Sitting so close to the band is nearly deafening, but very exhilarating. The music vibrates through my body, pulsing through my veins. I can’t take my eyes off Storm as he plays his riffs and toys with the crowd. His stage persona is undeniably sexy, beckoning the fans to want him. I’m completely captivated by him, just as the fans are. I laugh as he crosses the stage and stands next to Vandal. They play together for a few moments, Storm grinning like a lunatic at Vandal, trying to get a smile out of him, but Vandal just shakes his head at him. The crowd laughs and screams Vandal’s name.

“He’ll get bored of you.”

I turn, the smile slowly fading from my lips.

Up close, Jill isn’t very pretty. There’s a hardness about her, an emptiness to her eyes. If I met her somewhere else, as a stranger, I would feel sorry for her. I would wonder what made this woman look so angry and lifeless.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I throw back at her and turn my attention back to the band. I won’t let her bring me down.

“Yes,” she says. “We will.” She steps in front of me with her smirking smug face, blocking my view.

“Trust me, Jill. He won’t be requiring any of your holes anymore. I’ve got it covered.” I pray she doesn’t see through my fake confidence. “Run along now. I think I saw a group of teenage boys outside earlier who might be impressed with your plastic parts.”

I exhale as she sneers at me and prances away on her stilt-like shoes. Amy was right—just nip this bitch in the bud, and don’t give her an inch. I will not let her get wind of my insecurities.

Storm swoops onto me as the band leaves the stage, gathering me up in his arms and lifting me off the stool. I wrap my legs around his waist and he backs me up against the nearest wall.

“Christ, get a room,” one guy mutters, walking by us. I’m too caught up in Storm to even be embarrassed, loving that he is not afraid of public affection. He’s sweaty and breathing heavy as he kisses me, but I don’t care. I just want more and more of him.

He pulls away from my lips; his green eyes are bright and fiery. Being on stage truly brings him to life. Every part of him appears to be humming with energy.

“I like having you here when I get off the stage.”

It’s not the first time he’s alluded to wanting me to travel with him, and I skirt the issue every time. Of course, I want to be with him, but so many fears jump to the forefront of my mind. My fear of flying. My claustrophobia. Leaving Halo. My job.

“Evie . . .” He lowers me back down on my feet. “I see your mind tweaking again.” He touches my nose affectionately with his fingertip. “No more of that. Let’s go. It’s time to commence what will forever be known as me and you.”

My heart stops.

It skips two beats. One for me. One for him.

And then it pounds again, harder than ever.

TWO STEPS INTO MY HOUSE AND he turns, backing me against the door. His hand clicks the lock in place. I reach for the light switch, but he grabs my hand and pins it above my head. Above us, the moon is shining through the skylight, casting a dim blue ethereal light throughout the living room.

He kisses me softly, sucking my bottom lip between his. Leaning my head back against the door, I open my mouth to him as his tongue slowly sweeps in and finds mine. His free hand goes to my blouse and begins to unbutton it.

“I had this plan,” he says between kisses, “to go really slow with you,” he kisses my cheek, “and bring you roses,” he drags his lips down to my neck, “and be all romantic,” he nips my neck with his teeth, “and show you how special you are.” His fingers fumble with my buttons. “Fuck it.” He releases my hand and rips the front of my blouse open, tiny onyx buttons flying. He dives down to my chest, pulling my bra aside, his hungry mouth devouring my breast, his tongue rolling over my nipple.

“I don’t need all that,” I murmur, gripping his shoulders, my pink nails digging into his flesh.

He yanks my blouse down my arms and tosses it to the side. Without missing a beat, he reaches behind me to unhook my bra and tosses that, too. Seconds later, he has my jeans undone and pushed down to my ankles. He sinks down to his knees and pulls my pumps off then disentangles my jeans from my feet. He runs his hands from my ankles all the way up to my thighs, hooks his thumbs in my new silk panties, and slides them down and off. He kisses my inner thigh, his hands low on my hips, dragging his tongue all the way up before disappearing into my folds. I let out a small moan and grip his shoulders tighter. Lifting my leg, he bends it over his shoulder and delves in further, his tongue going in deep, his fingers splayed out to the side of my mound, spreading me apart for him. His tongue wanders up to capture my clit between his lips, sucking gently while he slowly slides a finger into my wet entry.

My leg starts to shake and I grab a fistful of his hair. My hips instinctively start to buck toward his face, the urgency building. He pulls his finger out quickly, his tongue leaving my quivering bud, and he begins to kiss my tummy, his hands going around to cup my ass in his grasp. My pussy twitches from the sudden abandonment, aching for him to touch me again and bring me back to that climax that was so near.

His large hands come up across my back and to my front, cupping my breasts, kneading them as he bites my hip. Then he leaves a trail of kisses over my pelvis, down my thigh bent over his shoulder, pressed against the side of his face. Just as my body starts to relax a tiny bit, he brings his fingers to my hot core again, sliding two in then slowly pulling them out, bit by bit, spreading them like tiny scissors as he does so.

“Storm . . .”

He silences me by licking my hooded clit, sucking it gently, then harder as his fingers work their magic inside me. My body starts to shake again, the climax starting to roll back in. He pulls away abruptly.

“Oh, my God . . . Storm . . .”

He stands, wrapping my leg around his waist and kisses me, his breath hot and tasting like me. “Please . . .” I say. He is driving me absolutely mad with desire. I grind myself against him, all inhibition flying out the window. I just need to feel him. Any of him. All of him.

“What, baby?” he growls softly, taunting. He pulls off his shirt and my hands immediately caress his shoulders, his broad chest, my fingers gliding over his tattooed flesh. A light film of perspiration covers his skin and dampens his hair.

“I need you,” I whisper, kissing him, sucking his tongue.

“Tell me.” His fingers twist my nipples, gently at first, then harder, sending a bolt straight down my core to between my legs. “Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling my head back so his lips can trace my open neck.

I drop my leg and reach for his belt, undoing the buckle.

“I want you inside me . . . please . . .”

“I’ve been dying to hear you say that, baby.” His lips crash back down on mine as he pushes my trembling fingers aside. He quickly pulls his belt off, out of the belt loops, then letting his jeans fall to his ankles.

His stiff cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. I reach between us and stroke him, long and hot in my hand. Every part of him is beautiful, strong, and masculine. Being near him awakens every feminine gene in my body. He groans in my ear, his breathing heavy.

“Your touch is what got me right from day one, Evie. You touch me so fucking soft and sweet. It makes me so fucking crazy for you.”

He lifts me up with his hands, off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he slowly rubs the tip of his cock against my clit.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, effortlessly moving my body so my lips slide up and down the length of him.

“Yes . . . please.”

He’s kicking his boots off as he’s lifting me up and down. I’m amazed at the strength of him and how effortlessly he can maneuver me around.

He puts me down for a moment then picks me up again, swinging an arm under my knees and carrying me like a baby to the couch. He sits and holds me on his lap, against his chest, my legs across him.

Our mouths meet hungrily, tongues dancing. He’s still holding me, one arm around my shoulders, the other under my knees. He lifts me slightly, his shoulders flexing, and slowly lowers me down.

“Reach under you and hold my cock, Evie,” he whispers against my lips.

It takes me a second to grasp what he’s doing and then I get it. Reaching beneath me, I hold his hard shaft while he gently lowers me down on him, my lips spreading over the head. We kiss and he lowers me a tiny bit more. I gasp and moan into his mouth. This position is crazy, his cock entering me at such a strange angle. It’s tantalizing. As we kiss, he lifts my body up and down, just a tiny bit so the tip of his cock teases my opening, in and out, in and out.

I practically claw at his chest and try to clench myself around him, wanting more of him, much more. I am completely helpless in this position, unable to move my legs or push myself down.

“You feel so amazing,” I whisper to him, caressing his cheek. I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but he has completely rattled me. My whole body and heart are aching for more of him.

He turns and lays me on my back on the couch, spreading my legs. His hand goes to my wet heat again. Licking his lips, his eyes watch intently as his finger slides in and out of me.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, glancing up at me.

I reach for his hand and pull him toward me. “Storm . . .” I’m losing my damn mind wanting him. I hook my leg around him, pulling him further onto me.

He sighs then sinks down on me, his mouth coming down on mine as he spears his cock into me. I gasp and buck up and he stills, giving me a moment to stretch around him, then slowly starts to push further into me. Pain flashes through me, my body not used to the size of him.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he whispers, slowing his thrusts, rolling his hips gently, feeding me tiny bits of him at a time until my muscles relax.

We kiss slowly, softly, matching his thrusts. My hands clutch his muscled ass, pulling him to me. He lifts my leg up, pressing my thigh against his chest and driving harder down on me, hitting my g-spot.

“Storm . . .” I start to gyrate against him. He feels incredible buried inside me. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. If he stops just when I’m about to climax again, I will die of frustration. My body can’t take any more of the start and stop.

“Not a chance.” His voice is low and strained, his eyes dark and intense as he watches himself plunge inside me. The mere visual of him above me sends a thrill throughout my body. Watching his abs, thighs, chest, and shoulder muscles contract and flex as he makes love to me is a remarkable sight. His long hair hangs down between us, tickling my breasts like erotic feathers with each thrust. His eyes latch onto mine and he grins impishly.

“Like what you see?” His voice is sultry and playful.

I wind my hand around his neck and pull his lips to mine.

“I love what I see.”

I wake up with his naked body spooned against the back of mine, his arm curled around me, holding me to him. I carefully get up and walk to the bathroom. My entire body feels sore from last night. Memories of it send a warm flush through me. I never imagined a man could be so sensual and passionate. Storm was no wham-bam type. He worshipped my body, leaving no inch untouched or un-kissed, always assuring me he was connected to me—soft kisses, caresses, and sweet playful words intermingled with fast, hard thrusts that shook my core.

I clean up my face, brush my teeth and head back to the living room, pulling on a short silk robe. Storm is still sleeping soundly on the couch, his naked body stretched across the entire length of it. Looking at this beautiful, sexy man, last night feels like a dream. How can someone like this want me?

My buzzing phone tears my attention from staring at his ass. I pick it up to see a text from Amy.

Amy: #BlizzardChick is trending on Twitter! Someone posted a hot photo of you and Storm.

Oh, shit. I run to my desk and turn on my laptop, navigating to the band’s social media site. I gasp and cover my mouth. Right there is a photo of Storm pinning me against the wall at the club, his hands on my ass, his tongue practically down my throat.

Underneath: Storm Valentine’s newest toy—#BlizzardChick. Looks like he’s melting her snow now!

Shit, seriously?

Biting my lip, I read some of the comments.

I’m so jealous!!

This won’t last . . .

I’d like a piece of that ass!

She’s fat! #Fatty

I liked him better with Melody Meadows!!!!!!

Is this the chick he was in the blizzard with?

I’d do her!

Lucky bitch!!

Dayum, I wish he’d do me like that.

Publicity stunt! I’m friends with someone in the band. He’s just doing this for publicity!

All the comments make me feel nauseous on some level, but that last one makes my hair stand up.

He wouldn’t.

I’m not sure how long I sit there staring at the screen, watching the new comments roll in. It’s like a disease, spreading, morphing, making my skin crawl.

“Baby, what are you doing? You better not be working over there.”

I hear him stick his e-cig in his mouth and come up behind me. I slam the laptop lid down and turn to him, hopefully hiding my growing panic over all the comments and hashtags.

“Just checking my email.” I smile up at him.

“I’m naked on your couch and you’re checking your email?” He reaches over me and lifts the lid, his eyes scanning the screen. “Oh, fuck me. Already, this shit is starting with these assholes online?”

“Apparently so. Hashtag BlizzardChick is trending.”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to the couch, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“Come over here.” He takes a drag on his cig. “You look upset. Come talk to me.”

I close the laptop again and cross the room, sitting on the couch next to him. I curl my legs under me and pull the pillow into my lap. “I’m a little upset,” I admit, peering up at him from beneath my hair.

“Why? I thought we had a great night. Did I hurt you?” Concern furrows across his face.

I grab his hand and lace my fingers with his. “No. Well, yeah, a little, but that’s not it.”

“Then tell me.”

I nod over at the laptop. “The comments, the picture. I’m not used to all this stuff. Some people are saying really nasty things about me. About us.”

He pulls me onto his lap. “Evie, I know it’s hard, but you can’t let that stuff get to you. I don’t want to keep you a secret. I want to be out in public with you. But with that, comes this shit. We have to just ignore it as best we can. I grew up with this stuff, and it sucks. I’m used to people putting our pictures in magazines and then this social media crap. I hate that you have to deal with it now, too.” He pushes my hair off my shoulder and rests his lips there. “Last night was fucking incredible. Let’s talk about that instead.”

“It was, but—”

“But what?”

“One of the comments . . . it says they’re friends with the band and that you’re just with me for publicity. To get attention, I guess.”

Pulling away, he shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “Are you kidding me? You don’t believe that shit, do you?”

My eyes drop, and my hesitation to answer him infuriates him.

“Fucking Jill probably posted half that shit. She does crap like that all the time to start trouble.”

Well, that would make sense. She obviously wants to make me uncomfortable, and she seems the type that would do stupid things to try to come between Storm and me.

“I don’t fucking play games or do shit for publicity. I don’t want publicity.” He runs his hand up my thigh, under the thin silk material of my robe, his fingers sliding between my legs. “My feelings for you are real. I care about you more than anything.”

“I’m sorry. This is just all new for me. I don’t mean to be untrusting . . . I just feel like I have to be cautious and not ignore signs like I did with Michael.”

“Evie, this is new for me, too. And I don’t blame you for being leery, but I need to have your trust or this will never work.”

Before I have a chance to reply, he’s kissing me, deep and rough. I can feel the anger in his touch, his disappointment in my distrust. I hate that I doubted him.

He turns my body, laying me down in front of him, his lips never leaving mine. His hard, hot cock presses against my ass. He pushes my thin robe up around my waist and lifts my leg, pulling it back behind me and laying it over his. In one smooth push, he buries his cock into my pussy from behind, causing me to gasp. His hand moves up to cup my breast, his lips on my neck, sucking and biting.

“Does that feel like a game to you, baby?”

I arch my back and open myself up to him, moaning against the pillow.

“Don’t you ever doubt me, Evie.” He rolls over toward me a bit more, crushing me into the couch, laying more of his weight on top of me. He slams into me harder, his balls slapping against me.

“I love fucking you even more than I thought I would,” he growls into my ear. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He slows, pulling his cock out gradually, inch by inch, then pushing it back it even slower, drawing out the feeling, then pulling out again. He rotates his hips, slowly grinding back down into me. I reach behind me and grope for him, my hand settling on his muscled thigh, nails digging into his flesh, trying to pull him harder into me.

“Don’t be greedy,” he whispers, pounding down into me. I cry out his name deliriously. My body begs him for more, my sex dripping wet, clenching his shaft as he pounds me from behind.

“Your pussy loves me, doesn’t it?” God, I love dirty, Storm talk just as much as I love his sweet talk. I think he could make me come just talking in my ear.

He grabs my hand on his thigh and entwines our fingers, then brings our hands above my head. Turning our bodies until I’m lying face-down flat on the couch, his full length lies on top of me. His free hand snakes under me and lifts my hips up, ass in the air, and he plunges into me. Sliding his hand between my legs, his fingers find my clit, swollen and pulsing, waiting for him. He works his magic on me, rubbing the throbbing nub as he pistons me from behind. I squeeze his hand and scream his name into the couch as I come, my wetness engulfing his huge cock inside me.

He pulls out suddenly, ripping me from my orgasmic dream-state, and flips me over quickly beneath him, sliding his shaft into me again. I wrap my arms and legs around him, my lips and tongue exploring his chest. I gaze up at him as he climaxes, his eyes rolling up, mouth parted. He looks in pure ecstasy.

A few minutes and short, lazy thrusts later, he opens his eyes and stares down into mine.

“I love you, Evie. I know since we met it’s been like a crazy train on the loose, but I really love you.” He takes a deep breath. “Love is something I don’t joke about, you know that. It’s also not something I thought I’d have. You’re a surprise to me.”

“Storm . . .” My throat tightens with emotion. The sincerity of his words shakes me. I’ve been slowly falling for him since the first day, fighting it with everything I have—afraid he will hurt me, afraid I might hurt him. “I love you, too. It scares me to death, but I do.”

“Then we’ll be scared together.” He kisses me softly. “I want a partner, Evie. A best friend. I think we’ve got that. I mean, I want to fuck you silly, but at the end of the day, what I really want is someone to come home to who’s just gonna sit with me and hold my hand and love me for me, and let me love them.”

“I want that, too, Storm. So much.”

“So . . . we should give it a try.” He grins and raises his eyebrow at me.

I rub my foot up and down his calf. “I don’t know how to do this.”

He brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek and contemplates me for a moment. “Evie, I don’t know how to do this, either. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was nineteen years old.”

“That really scares me, Storm. What if you can’t stop . . . with the girls? You’re used to just jumping on anyone, anytime. What if you don’t like being with just me?”

“I can stop. I have stopped. That’s not going to be a problem. I’m not a sex addict, Evie. And ya know what? Half that shit you read about me online isn’t even true. Just because I was with a model or a porn star at some party, it doesn’t mean I had sex with her. I told you when we first met that I have a few female friends I would have sex with on occasion. That’s it. Even I have some standards.”

I sit up. “Storm, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. All the pictures online . . .”

“It’s okay, I know.” He pulls me closer to him and wraps my legs around him. “I’m going to be honest with you. What I want, what I fantasize about with you . . . is you being my sweet angel during the day and my whore at night. I want you to always want me. I don’t want you to ever push me away or say no to me. I want to buy you sexy lingerie, and slowly take it off you. If I want to drag you into a back room at a concert and ask you to blow me, I want you to want it. And not because I’m in a fucking band, but because you want me.

“But on top of all that, I don’t want it to just be sex. I want the trust and the love that’s supposed to come with all that. That’s my fantasy, and it started when I met you. Could I live without that? Of course. Will I love you no matter what? Yes. No doubt. I would never cheat on you, no matter what. Maybe you think I’m a sicko now. If so, then I’ll deal with it. But that’s what I want.”

I stare at him for a long time, trying to wrap my head around everything that is him. Somewhere in him is a huge fear of rejection, of not being loved or wanted for who he really is. He’s lost in his fame, and I think his first wife did a number on his head and heart when he was too young. I want to heal him and give him everything he wants. “Yes,” I say simply.

“Yes?” He frowns at me, confused.

I wind my arms around his neck. “Yes, I want that. Yes, I can be that. You can trust me, Storm.”

“I know, Evie. It’s what I love about you so much—I know I can trust you. I know this won’t be easy and it’s new for both of us, but I will try like crazy to make you happy.”

“You don’t have to try. You already do.”

I’M SITTING ON THE COUCH AT the cabin, Halo and Niko at my feet and my laptop propped on my legs, chipping away at Aria’s incoming emails. Her latest book made bestseller in under a week, and now a movie deal is in the works for a book she published three years ago. I double-check her calendar before booking more meetings, as Gram’s ninetieth birthday party is next month and we are planning a big party for her.

While I have my laptop open, I check Storm’s social media sites and post an update on their next show and links to new band merchandise. Over the past few months, I’ve been working closely with a graphic designer to better brand the band with a new logo and adding new items to their swag. The women’s black fitted tee with a rhinestone snowflake has been a huge seller. Storm thought it would be fun to take advantage of our blizzard story, and he was right—the female fans all wanted an Ashes and Embers snowflake shirt.

A few weeks after we went public, a female rock journalist interviewed us, wanting to showcase us as a ‘real couple,’ and specifically focusing on the fact that men can—and do—love natural women. Since then, most of the hatred for me on social media flipped to admiration, my own inbox flooding with emails from young girls asking for relationship advice. Kind of ironic. Yeah, I still have haters, but I ignore all that now.

I shut down my laptop and head out to the garage, barefoot, to find Storm sitting on the ground with a motorcycle in pieces around him. I grab a bottled water from the garage refrigerator and hand it to him.

“Thanks, baby.” He tilts his head up for a kiss. I smile at him, wipe some grease off his cheek, and give him a long, slow kiss.

“How’s it going?” The bike he’s working on is his favorite. It’s painted a glossy jet black with wolves airbrushed over the fenders and tank. It’s beautiful.

He nods, sipping his water before replying. “Pretty good. Next weekend, we’re going for a ride.”

“I can’t wait.” It’ll be my first ride, and I’m looking forward to it.

“Did you call Vandal? I called him earlier, but he’s not answering his phone. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

I kneel down next to him. “Yes . . . we talked for a few minutes. He’s all right, just doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

Storm throws his wrench. “He fucking hates me. All of us.”

I rub his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Storm, you guys did what you had to do. He’s too messed up to be in the band right now, you guys know that. He’s pissed, but he understands. He knows once things settle down and he gets better, he can come back.”

“I’m not sure he’s ever gonna be better, Evie,” he mutters.

“He will. It’s just going to take some time.” I try to sound hopeful, even though I know deep down Vandal may not ever come out of the dark place he’s in.

“All the time in the world can’t fix what he’s going through, baby. He’s done.”

The situation with Vandal is devastating. A month ago, he fell asleep at the wheel while driving late at night, killing his five-year-old daughter, a female friend and a driver in another car. Vandal spiraled into a horrific depression, distancing himself even further from the band—his only family. Sometimes, he’ll talk to me, but not often, and he says very little. Once a week, I stop by his house, bringing him groceries and cleaning up the mess he leaves.

I have a soft spot for Vandal. When I first met him, he scared the heck out of me with his dark looks, bad moods, and utter silence. He hardly ever spoke. The first time I stopped at his house after the accident, he was a mess—throwing things, screaming, and swearing. I questioned my sanity for showing up at his home alone. Then he just collapsed in front of me, and I sat on the floor with him and just held him. I never said a word, just held him. From that moment on, we’ve had a quiet friendship. He doesn’t yell anymore. He eats the food I bring him and thanks me for cleaning his house. It’s the least I can do. Storm loves his cousin, and family has to take care of each other.

Storm stands up, covered in grease from head to toe, but I lean in to hug him anyway.

“I was thinking we’d go out to dinner tonight,” he says, putting his arms around me.

“I’d love that. Our fur children are getting along great. They were sleeping next to each other when I came out here.”

He kisses me on the nose and grabs my ass. “I knew they would. I think we need to take a shower together before dinner. You’ve been hiding from me too long today. I missed you.”

“I know. Your mom’s emails have been insane.”

We walk into the house together and he leads me straight to the bathroom, pulling our clothes off as soon as we get through the door.

“Get in there and turn the water on, and I want you to lather yourself up with that vanilla soap.”

I do as he says, standing in the glass shower while he leans against the sink, naked, watching me as I spread the thick lather all over my body. He slowly crosses the room, his cock hard and jutting out. He presses me against the tile wall, running his hands up and down my soapy body, and then lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before slowly sliding inside me.

“You’re still dirty,” I tease.

“I know.” His kisses are playful, starting at my lips, and then moving down to my neck, biting my flesh. “You smell like cookies.” He places me back on my feet. “I want you to wash me,” he says, his voice laced with soft command.

I take the bath sponge, squirt vanilla body wash on it, and slowly run it all over his body, the suds sliding over his hard muscles. The multiple showerheads spray us from every angle, rinsing the creamy soap off us. We shampoo each other’s hair, and then I drop to my knees and take him into my mouth. He leans back against the tile wall, his hand on my head, gently pulling me to him as I suck him.

He locks his eyes onto mine. They are glazed and half-closed as he loses himself in me. Nothing turns me on more than watching him when he’s enjoying what I’m doing to him.

“Mmm . . . I think I need more.” He pulls me up by my hair and spins me around, pressing my front against the glass door. His lips trail all the way down my spine, while his hands slide down my wet sides and stop at my hips. He squeezes my ass and gives me a small slap before slowly inching his way into me.

“You stayed away from me for too long today,” he hisses in my ear, thrusting harder.

“I know . . .”

“Tomorrow, I want you all to myself.”

I’m not going to argue with that.

“I’m getting prime rib and shrimp,” he announces and closes his menu.

“Honey, you get that every time we come here.”

He bites into a hunk of bread. “I know. It’s always perfect. I don’t want to try something new.”

I like to order something new every time we go out to eat. “I’m getting the chicken cordon bleu.”

“I’ll end up eating half of that, too.”

I giggle at him. I can never finish my dinner, so he usually eats whatever I don’t.

“Oh, my God, you’re Storm Valentine!” Suddenly, two girls are standing by our table. I place my glass back on the table and raise my eyebrows at them. This sort of thing usually doesn’t happen at this restaurant, as it’s very expensive and most of the patrons would respect that someone dining here would not want to be bothered.

Storm just smiles. “Yes, that would be me.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, ignoring them.

“Could we get your autograph? And get our picture taken?”

He shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Ladies, I appreciate you coming over, but I’m having dinner with my girl.”

One of the girls makes a nasty face at him. “But you’re just sitting here. What’s the big deal?”

He flashes her a not so nice look. “The big deal is that we’re enjoying a private night out, and we don’t want to be interrupted. I’m not on stage, I’m having dinner.”

“Being an asshole to your fans isn’t cool,” she says.

He stands up. “I love my fans. I don’t like being disrespected. I’d appreciate it if you would leave, please.”

Finally, the manager of the restaurant appears. “Mr. Valentine, I am so sorry. You know we do not tolerate this kind of behavior here.” He turns to the girls. “Ladies, I will escort you from the building now.”

I watch as he drags them away, both of them cussing us out. I’ve learned not to engage with people like that and to just ignore them.

“Rude bitches,” Storm mutters, sipping his wine. “Do you believe that shit?”

“It’s okay. They’re gone now.”

He still looks pissed off. “You don’t know how much I hate that, Evie. What happens when we have kids? I don’t want them growing up like I did, being pulled on, picked on, used, and annoyed everywhere they go.”

I tilt my head at him and put my hand in his again. “What are you saying?”

He looks off for a few moments, deep in thought. “I don’t know if I want to do this forever, Evie. I want to have a family with you, and just be fucking normal. Maybe just work on the bikes and leave the band in a few years. Maybe play a few local acoustic gigs once in a while. But not this touring stuff and being so out in the public eye.”

“Storm . . . you know I’ll support whatever you do. But it would crush Asher—losing Vandal and then you. Ashes and Embers will fall apart.”

The band is Asher’s life, his baby. I can’t even imagine what he would do if he lost Storm, too. Of course, Storm could be replaced with another guitarist, but he’s the front man of the band, the one who attracts the most attention and gets the crowd going. Ashes and Embers just wouldn’t be the same without him.

He nods slowly, squeezing my hand tighter. “I know that. I don’t want to do that to him, or any of them. But we come first. I have to do what’s best for us and our family.”

Our family.

A million butterflies have taken over my insides. I’m starting to see that underneath his tough, rocker facade is a guy who just wants to be loved and have a normal, quiet life.

“Sweetheart, I have faith that no matter what you do, you will always do what’s best for us. I’m with you no matter what. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll make it work.”

“I know, Evie. I just keep thinking about Vandal and little Katie . . . and my baby. Life is really fucking short.” His voice cracks.

I stare at him, not sure what to say. He’s never mentioned Britney or the baby before.

“I let them down.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it.

I want to go to him and put my arms around him, but I don’t want to create another scene in the restaurant.

“Storm, you did not. You were just a kid. Even an adult wouldn’t be able to handle everything you had to go through. When someone’s depressed or dealing with mental illness, they don’t behave normally. They don’t let people help them. I’ve been there, I know.”

“Michael stayed with you when you were depressed,” he deadpans.

“And look how that ended up. Him staying with me didn’t fix anything; it hurt us both. I don’t think anything you would have done could have changed what Britney did, Storm. Once someone gets to that point, they are too far gone. Their mind is made up.”

“It’s been on my mind a lot . . . since this stuff with Vandal. I want to do things right this time. I don’t want to do anything to risk losing you or our family.”

“Storm, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were eighteen. And I’m fine. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I love you more than I thought possible. We’re good in every way. If you want to leave the band, then do it because your heart’s not in it, but don’t do it because you think it’s going to somehow protect us. I’m happy when you’re happy. We’re on this ride together, right? That’s what you said. I’m in. If bitches want to interrupt our dinner, that’s fine. We laugh about it. It’s not going to hurt us. Our kids will grow up with two parents who love each other, just like you did. They’ll be okay, I promise.”

I’m not used to this side of him. He’s like an onion, layers slowly peeling, revealing more and more. His mom was right; there is so much more to him. The more I learn, the more I love this man.

We enjoy the rest of our dinner, all talks of babies and depression left behind.

“COME ON, BABY. PUT THIS ON your head and get on.” He hands me the helmet and I take it from him.

“It’s heavy,” I protest.

“No shit. It’s gotta protect your head. Put it on.”

“You’re not wearing one,” I point out.

“I know. But you are. Now, put it on, please.”

Scowling, I put the heavy thing on my head and he buckles it under my chin for me. My head feels like it weighs a ton now.

He pushes the visor up on my helmet and smiles at me. “You look adorable. Now, get on and hang on to me, okay?”

I climb onto the motorcycle behind him and put my arms around his waist tightly.

“Good girl. Don’t squirm around, all right? Try to stay with my body. If I lean to the right, you lean with me. And when I brake, try not to let your helmet slam into the back of my head like my crazy sister does.”

“Okay . . . got it. Just go slow, okay?”

“Of course, I will. I want you to enjoy this. If you start to feel nervous, just let me know and I’ll pull over.”

I give him a thumbs-up and he starts the bike, the engine roaring to life. It’s much louder than I expected it to be. This is the ride he promised me months ago when we were in the blizzard, and he’s taking me back to the spot he told me about, right near where we were stuck. When he made that promise back then, I never thought we’d be together now, madly in love and building a life together.

Hugging him as we ride together is an incredible, bonding experience. A feeling of total love, trust, and freedom envelops me as we roar through the forest-lined road. I love this man so much, at times I feel like my heart will burst. He has become my world, showing me so many new things, opening my mind to new adventures, loving me unconditionally, even when I have been difficult. In return, I have devoted every day to showing him how much I love him, want him, and appreciate him. Fate threw us together in such a crazy way, but she certainly knew what she was doing.

We ride for about forty minutes, his long hair whipping behind him and tickling my neck. My arms are wrapped around his waist, my legs pressed against his until he slows and pulls the bike over to a gravelly clearing on the side of the road. I wait until the bike has fully stopped, and he puts his feet down and gives me the okay before I jump off and unbuckle the helmet. Pulling it off my head for me, he places it on the back of the bike and takes me into his arms.

“You did great, baby. Did you enjoy it?” He tilts his head down, the sun beaming behind him, and plants a kiss on my forehead.

“I did. I was a little scared at first, but I actually did like it once I got used to it. It feels so . . . free.”

“Doesn’t it? I love riding. Hopefully, you’ll come with me more now that you’ve had a chance to see what it’s like.”

He releases me to go back to the bike, rummaging around in the saddlebag, and he finally pulls out a rolled-up blanket. “I came prepared,” he says, tucking it under his arm.

He grabs my hand. “Come on.” He leads me from the road, helping me down a small hill, and through the forest. In the distance, I can hear water, like a river running.

I take in our surroundings. “Is this really where we were? It’s so beautiful.”

“Yup. Right over there.” He points to a spot about fifty feet away where some small, thin trees are knocked down.

We walk a bit more and run into a narrow river. Still holding hands tightly, we follow the river and come to a clearing where there’s a small waterfall. It’s absolutely beautiful, this spot nestled in the forest. It’s hard to believe this is where we were. It’s not nearly as scary in the sunlight with the birds chirping all around us.

Storm spreads the blanket on the ground and pulls me down on it with him.

“This is beautiful, hon. Thank you so much for bringing me back here. It kind of feels like we came full circle.” I lean across the blanket and kiss his lips.

“Hey, didn’t I tell you I’d bring you back here?” His lips brush across mine again. “I never break a promise.”

We sit in contented silence, watching the waterfall and cloud-gazing. I wish we could have brought Niko with us for our little reunion here.

I turn to Storm, taking him in. He looks gorgeous as always—the wind blowing his hair, his faded black t-shirt stretched across his muscled chest and shoulders. Of course, he catches me.

“You’re staring at me again,” he teases.

“Yup. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Likewise, baby.”

He grabs my hand, kisses my open palm, and then slowly sucks my finger into his mouth, sending a shudder up my spine. His tongue swirls around my finger, sucking it deeper into his mouth, his eyes watching me. His teeth come down lightly around my finger, grazing my flesh. I’m captivated, watching his mouth, the sensuality of it making me dizzy and wet.

He locks his eyes onto mine and slowly pulls my hand out of his mouth. And there, on my finger, is a diamond ring.

I gasp and stare up at him, my mouth hanging open. My brain is spinning. How the hell did he do that? And is that what I think it is?

“Storm . . . oh, my God . . . I—how did you do that?”

“This is my gram’s ring. It’s very special to her. It was given to her by a man she loved before she was with my grandfather. She was hoping someday, one of us boys would meet a girl special enough to wear it. She and I agreed that’s you.”

I swallow hard, staring at the large, glistening gem on my finger. It’s beyond beautiful, and the fact that it belonged to this wonderful woman, given to her by someone special, means so much to me. This is more than just a ring, more than just a proposal. This is an invitation into a wonderful, loving family. This is acceptance.

I need to lighten the mood a little before I start to cry.

“Does she know you used your tongue to propose with her ring?”

“No, that part was my idea.” He continues to rub his thumb across my hand. “Evie, I love you with all my heart. You’ve made me so happy these past few months. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we always end up right again.” He brings my hand to his lips. “I can promise you if we work together, we can make all our dreams come true. I’m not going to ask you to marry me because I know we will, no doubt. But I will ask you to share all your tomorrows with me.”

I literally throw myself at him, kissing him everywhere—his face, his lips, his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” I squeal. “Storm, I love you so much. I want to spend every moment of every day for the rest of my life with you. Getting stuck with you was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

He kisses me long and hard, squeezing my body tight against his.

“You’re really stuck with me now, baby. I’m never letting you go.”

THE END . . . for now

Vandal

Ashes & Embers Series Book 2

She takes my breath away; she is so beautifully damaged. Yes, I had broken her, ravished her life and destroyed her happiness. I brought her to the ultimate despair.

I was responsible for all the pain and suffering that now brought her to her knees in front of me.

Broken.

Hopeless.

Reckless in her agony.

She is a mirror of my own tortured soul.

But what I took away, I can give back, in ways she cannot even begin to imagine.

She is everything right in all my wrongs.

She loves me. She needs me.

She has no idea I’m the one who wrecked her life.

Lukas

Ashes & Embers Series Book 3

Storm’s younger cousin.

Vandal’s little brother.

You’ve met him in the background.

The sweet one.

The nice one.

The one they can all rely on.

The good one.

He’s a tattoo artist. He plays metal and classical music—on the violin.

He’s got a body built for sin.

He’s 24.

In comes Ivy. She’s a 36 year old single mom who hasn’t dated in 18 years.

All she wanted was a tattoo.

She got a helluva lot more :)

Being good has never been so bad.

Talon

Ashes & Embers Series Book 4

DESCRIBE YOUR IDEAL PARTNER:

Caring. Hard-working. A devoted family man, loves kids.

Clean cut, funny, smart, quiet, but a good communicator.

~ Asia Jenson

DESCRIBE YOUR IDEAL PARTNER:

Independent. Tall, blonde, sexy. Outgoing. Intelligent,

neat. Unslutty. Confident. Loves to travel. Committed.

~ Talon Valentine

A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT.

The concept was scary but exciting . . .

Marry a total stranger.

Live together for six months.

Journal everything. (Feelings. Fights. All of it.)

After six months, we each get $50K in trade for our journals, whether we stay married or not. But the goal is to commit to the experience and see if the relationship experts could put together the perfect matches.

I have never been lucky in love. This was my chance to find my soulmate.

I couldn’t wait to meet the man the experts felt was perfect for me.

My hopes were immediately dashed when I saw him at the altar.

Shit. I married my worst nightmare.

Right?!

First to the readers out there, Thank You!

I have to thank the amazing author Laramie Briscoe for all of your help, support, advice, and friendship. I love you!

So many people have helped me on this journey, supported me, pimped me, and gone out of their way to be there for me. It has been truly overwhelming and I can’t thank them enough. So big hugs and thank you to Caroline Richards, Mary Orr, Angel Dust, MC Rocker Reader, Debs Cameron, Mandy Hollis, Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Hot Tree Editing, Kristin Scearce, Addison Jane, CA Borgford, and HUGE thanks and a million hugs to Ing at As the Pages Turn! Also, thank you to all the blogs that helped promote this book!

And lastly, I have to thank all the sexy bad boys out there who inspire these stories!

I HAVE A PASSION FOR THE bad boys—those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles, and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts. My debut series, Ashes & Embers, follows the lives of rock band members as they find, and sometimes lose, the loves of their lives.

Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets. I spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.

CONTACT CARIAN

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ASHES & EMBERS SERIES

Storm—Ashes & Embers Series Book 1

Purchase from Amazon

Purchase from Amazon UK

Vandal—Ashes & Embers Series Book 2

Purchase from Amazon

Purchase from Amazon UK

Lukas—Ashes & Embers Series Book 3

Purchase from Amazon

Purcahse from Amazon UK

coming soon

Talon—Ashes & Embers book 4

also coming . . .

Storm sequel

Vandal sequel

Mikah’s story

Asher’s story

Rayne’s story

Plunge—a dark sensual romance (standalone)

Sevan—a dark romance (standalone)

Table of Contents

Storm

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sneak Peek—Vandal

Sneak Peek—Lukas

Sneak Peek—Talon

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Books by Carian Cole