Living in a small town was a trip.

Everyone knew everyone’s business, which I found out because the whole town had stopped by to offer welcome casseroles, cookies, pies, cakes and the like. Or they stopped me inside the market, the hardware store, even the fire station, to tell me someone else’s business.

That’s how I’d found out that Magenta had checked into the B&B in town rather than live with me.

Of course, I knew it wasn’t personal. But it felt pretty personal, and I knew that was because of our previous connection, which thankfully, no one else in this place knew about.

I did feel bad about running her from her home though, which is why I was out pounding the pavement, running off my frustration. My restlessness. Settling into small town life was harder than I’d imagined, but the guys at the station made the transition easier. They’d all originally come from big city fire houses with plenty of experience fighting fires, and absolutely none when it came to living in a small town.

So far, we were all…adjusting.

After about ninety minutes I was beat, drenched in sweat, and my legs were getting close to noodle consistency, which meant it was time to head back home. There was a small lake skirting near the edge of town that had become my favorite place to run because it was quiet, scenic and free of busybodies. The only problem was, it was still two miles from my temporary home.

The last stretch of the run would have killed me if physical fitness wasn’t a job requirement for the past decade of my life. Daily workouts, lugging fire gear up stairs, up the side of a mountain or rock face, meant I was in excellent shape even when I was beat. Still, nothing had ever felt better than landing on the doorstep, knowing a shower was just a few more feet away.

Except I had a visitor. Inside the house there was noise, the low hum of a radio, the sizzle of something frying on the stove. Someone was here, and making themselves at home. I sniffed the air, the distinct scent of fish, tomatoes and garlic hit my nose. Hard.

The sight that greeted me in the kitchen wasn’t unwelcome. Magenta in painted on dark blue denim that cupped her heart-shaped ass as it shook to a hip hop beat and a plain white t-shirt that showed off the ink visible on her arms and back. I smiled as she moved around the kitchen, totally oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone. The moment was too good, and I couldn’t resist.

“Honey, I’m home.”

“Shit!” The wooden spoon dropped from her hands, and she sat the bowl down harder than she needed to, sending a plume of cornmeal, herbs and spices up in the air. “Dammit Davis, don’t do that!”

Her frustrated tone made me laugh. “I thought I was living here alone.” Not that I minded her return, the opposite really, now that those gorgeous tits were aimed at me with beaded tips that I knew were the color of wild strawberries.

Her shoulders fell. “I know, and it couldn’t be helped. A reality TV couple is interested in booking my suite at the B&B. I know the owner would love the exposure, so, here I am. Don’t worry, this is temporary Davis.”

“Don’t leave on my account. It’s nice to have someone familiar to talk to.”

Arms folded in defiance, Magenta’s green gaze narrowed to slits. “I don’t remember us doing all that much talking.” Her voice was a challenge, but I could see she really believed that.

“Really? Because I remember you telling me all about this kooky town that you hadn’t even visited yet. Your brief attempt into the New York art world. Your apprenticeship with a German tattoo artist who refused to speak English.” And there it was, that flash of surprise mixed with delight.

“Maybe I just have a better memory.” With a shrug I pushed off the wall and got in her face, smiling.

“Doubtful old man. There’s enough fish to share if you’re hungry.” It was as close to a concession as I’d get from her with our clothes still on, and for now it was good enough.

“I’m always hungry Magenta.” She licked her lips and I had to bite back a groan. Thankfully she turned to flip the fish, which gave me a moment to get my shit together. “In fact, I’m starved.”

She sucked in a breath and turned back to me, arms crossed in annoyance and protection. Again. “Go wash the stink of sweat off you then.”

That’s what her lips said, but her eyes said she was thinking about licking this stink right off me, and we both knew I’d let her.

But until my tough girl remembered who she was dealing with, I was happy to tease her as much her gaze teased me. Those eyes tracked the movement of my hands as I lifted the hem of my t-shirt higher and higher, until it was in a ball in my hands. “My eyes are up here, Magenta.”

The tease, her gaze traced over every muscle in my abdomen before taking turns eye fucking my chest and pecs. Her tongue slicked across her lips again, slowly before her gaze met mine.

“Looking people in the eye is an overrated tradition. Especially when you’ve got all this on display. I’m just admiring your hard work. You’re welcome.”

That was what I liked most about Magenta, her honesty. I had no doubt she thought looking people in the eye was overrated, because her artist’s eye could find beauty in the mundane. But the way she wrapped a compliment, so it didn’t really seem like one, was more endearing than it should have been.

“I’m, uh, going to take a quick shower.”

“Thanks for the visual,” she said blandly. “Be back in ten minutes, or I start without you.”

“I’ve heard that before.” She sucked in a breath at the mention of that particular memory of another time, when she said those exact words to me in another context. Even now, I could use the memory of what came next to get me off in under a minute. But not today, not when I had the real life, living breathing thing under the same roof. “Miss me?”

She looked up from the pot of spaghetti she was adding fresh parsley to and arched a brow. “Seven minutes. Better than last time.”

“That was a strategic decision that I think we both benefitted from.”

“Get drinks.” Magenta rolled her eyes, but her pale skin did nothing to hide her every emotion, especially when she blushed a pretty shade of pink. “There’s vodka in the freezer.”

“There’s no orange juice.”

She frowned at me. “Because no kids live here. There are oranges in the fruit bowl.”

I couldn’t tell if she was screwing with me or not. “For the vodka, Magenta.”

She frowned again, this time adding a healthy look that said, are you an idiot. “It’s cold, Davis. What else do you need?” She sighed and looked around the kitchen. “There’s tonic and limes if you want.” I almost believed her. She would’ve gotten me, if not for that tiny twitch at the right corner of her mouth.

I ducked back down in the fridge and scanned the ingredients. Nothing. But then behind a container of soy yogurt, gross, I found a small-ish bottle of my favorite orange juice. “You remembered.”

She shrugged. “At first, it was just a bribe in case you didn’t want me to come back, but now I get to gloat that I have the superior memory.”

I let her have it, because she remembered, something I doubt she even realized as she bragged about it. “And I’m going to let you have that because everything smells amazing.”

She sat the pot of spaghetti right on the wooden table. “Live around here long enough and you’ll learn how to make the essentials to a ‘good ol’ fish fry’ too.”

“Nope, I’m not buying it. You’re a bad ass, and there’s no way in hell you would’ve learned if you didn’t want to. You like it here.”

“Of course I do. What’s not to like? Other than it’s annoying as hell.” I could see the truth of her words written all over her face. “You’ll like it here too.”

“Probably.” Everyone seemed friendly, and they had no problem striking up a conversation anywhere. “They do seem determined to become best friends.”

She laughed as she piled spaghetti on her plate. “It’ll happen too. Aunt Mae got a tattoo just so she could get me to open up.”

“Whoa, that’s commitment.” On the surface it sounded completely insane, but after more than a week in Belle Musique, I knew exactly what she meant.

“Tell me about it. Now she’s damn near impossible to say no to. That was probably her end game all along.” There was a hint of annoyance in Magenta’s voice, but also affection. “So.”

“So.”

“You look good, Davis.”

“So do you, Magenta.” The air changed just that easy, from calm and relaxed, platonic to electric. Her green eyes darkened by the second, acting as a tether to my cock, which thickened under the table.

She laughed again, this time it was just a little freer and more genuine. “It’s good to see you, Davis. Weird as hell, but good too.”

“I couldn’t have put it better.” There were a lot of things I could add, but I didn’t because Magenta was prickly. She wouldn’t want to hear what I had to say. Not yet. “Especially when you feed me so well.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hell, I would cook anytime she wanted if it meant having dinner with her on a regular basis. “I can hold my own in the kitchen, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter since I won’t be here that long.” Magenta stood, ready to close herself off again and I wondered what that was about. She gathered her dishes and carried them to the sink, and I was up on my feet and behind her in just a few steps.

“Why are you leaving? Am I that irresistible?”

She laughed with her whole body, that sweet ass brushing against my half-chub with every move. “You are irresistible, but you give yourself too much credit. I made the decision about five minutes before you walked back into my life.”

“I’ll do those.” Her hands stilled under mine, and I shut off the water. “Cook doesn’t do the dishes.”

“I won’t argue with that rule.” She turned and we were face to face, so close that the heat of our breaths swirled between us, electric and thick with tension. “Davis...”

The sound of my name torn from her lips snapped my control and I cupped her face, letting my fingers graze the length of her jaw until her eyes met mine again.

Then I kissed her, and it was as if all those months apart had never happened. Like it had been hours since I kissed her like this, instead of months, more than a year. It was hot and explosive, and Magenta tasted like vodka and woman. She pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, bringing my whole body to life.

Then she pulled back. “Damn you, Davis.” She stomped away, coming back for the vodka and marching off again, the sound of my laughter trailing behind her.