It’s been four days since I flew into Tessa’s store when I saw her getting ready to take a tumble. Saving her from eating the tiled floor should’ve earned me points, but I think it did nothing positive in the way she views me.

Once an asshole, always an asshole.

And now it’s been four long, lonely, boring days.

When she told me she was leaving for a few days, I knew where she was going without her having to tell me. Did it suck to know she’d be spending her free time with my two best friends?

Fuck yes. It hurt like a bitch.

But it’s all my own doing. If I had kept my stupid mouth shut, I’d still be around Rhys, offering congratulations on the upcoming birth of his daughter. Don’t get me started on how much I miss Av. Since she’s been back in our lives, it’s like the sun started shining more brightly, and it shines every single day, banishing the clouds from the sky. Av makes every day more beautiful by her presence alone.

Way to screw up your life more, dickwad.

Today, I find myself sitting in the Egg Crackin’ Café, across the street from Tessa’s shop. I’m not positive she’s back in town yet, and I’m certain standing around outside like a creeper would draw superfluous attention, completely undermining my attempt to blend in. All my hard work would be for naught if my cover were blown.

Am I sitting here waiting for a peek of Tessa? Yes.

And no.

I’m here for work, like I said when she asked. She thinks it’s work for my day job, which isn’t actually my job at all. It’s all a front.

Decisions made one day nearly ten years past have caused me to constantly lie to those who love me. The lies slide easily off my lips, sometimes without me knowing what it is I’m truly saying.

Starting down this road, making the choices I ultimately did, I never envisioned myself earning the label of liar.

At first, I took the job because the money was amazing, and as a broke-ass college student, I couldn’t pass it up—but now? Now, as a grown man, one who’s had time to think about what saying yes to this job would cost me? This man would’ve said no.

I’m positive we’ve all made decisions in our lives we wish we could take back.

I’ve made two.

One was this job, and the second was telling Rhys the truth about his letters. Man, did telling him rip my heart into shreds, but he had to know. Before he went farther down the foxhole and let Frank back into his life forever, he needed to know what a revolting act his father blackmailed me into doing.

When Rhys moved off campus, I should’ve stopped.

I never should’ve started, but fear kept me running to his mailbox to check for any correspondence from his mother. If there was any there, I wrote no such address, return to sender on every single piece of mail I managed to come across…for years.

I’m one of the shittiest friends on the face of the planet for doing it.

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” the waitress—Blanche, I think—asks, pulling me from my somber thoughts.

“Sure, thanks,” I manage to get out.

I’ve been sitting here for hours, I believe, although I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been here, to be honest—five hours, maybe? When I walked in, the crowd was mostly early-rising surfers grabbing some breakfast before heading out to catch some waves. The sun was barely kissing the sky good morning, and based on where it’s residing at the moment, I’d gauge the time as closer to the noon hour, maybe a tad after.

“Blanche, do you happen to have the time?” I ask before she’s done refilling my mug, knowing I could easily glance at my phone but choosing to ask instead.

“It’s a few minutes before noon. If you don’t want to sit through the lunchtime crowd, I’d say you have five, ten minutes max before they start rolling in.”

“May I place an order to-go?”

“Sure thing, sweet stuff. What’ll it be?” she asks before she winks. She likes to wink—Rhys would probably love her.

“Does Tessa over at Threads & Trends have a favorite?” I ask hopefully, not knowing if she frequents the café or not.

“She sure does. Matter of fact, she called her order in a few minutes ago.” She takes a moment to eye me up; she must be seeing if I measure up to her standards for someone Tessa should be talking to. “Yeah, I think you’ll do fine,” she says as she flips her glasses up from the perch of her long nose up into her net-covered red hair. “You’ll do her a load of good. Knowing what I do, I’ll allow you to take her lunch when it’s ready. What would you like to go with it?”

Wow. I’ve never been taken in by someone quite like Blanche just did. It was like she was making sure I’m okay to take the esteemed cow out to meet the neighboring farm’s prize bull.

I feel…violated.

In the best possible way.

And it makes me smile to know someone like Blanche is in Tessa’s corner, protecting her from undeserving suitors.

The grin across my face must be answer enough because Blanche ambles off in her kitten heels before I can give her my reply, letting her know I’ll have whatever Tessa is having.

Ten minutes later, I’m walking out the door of the café with our lunches in hand and making my way over to Threads & Trends San Diego, the awestruck grin still stuck on my face. I took a gamble asking if she had a favorite item and was rewarded with her already having placed a to-go order. It was also my way of finding out if she was back in town.

The bell jingles on the door, alerting the salesgirl behind the counter to my presence.

“Welcome to Threads & Trends,” she calls out as she starts to make her way over to me.

“Hello, no help is needed on the sales floor, but I do need to see Tessa. If you could let her know her lunch has arrived, I’d be much obliged.”

“Oh, she’ll be happy to know. One moment,” she replies as she turns and disappears into a hallway, which I can only assume leads into the storage room and office.

A moment later, I’m met with wary cerulean eyes partially hidden behind raven dark locks. “What are you doing back here, Ace?”

Her question throws me off guard, and the grin slowly fades from my face. It’s not like I didn’t expect her bitterness—it’s well deserved. I guess my odd conversation with Blanche had me glimpsing pieces of what could’ve been…what can never be.

“We had a deal, remember?”

“Honestly, I hoped you had forgotten about it while I was out of town. I figured you’d be done with whatever business you had here and would have disappeared by now.” Her words cause a jolt of pain to stab my heart; I didn’t know I was anticipating her company this much. “I mean, things have never been very friendly between us. I thought your work would be done here and you’d be gone, is all.”

Her attempt to smooth this over tells me she saw the pain her words caused. It must not have been only internal pain; my face must’ve shown my disappointment as well.

“Don’t filter yourself to spare my feelings, Tessa. You’ve never done it before, so why start now? I’m a cold-hearted bastard, remember?” It’s what she has called me several times, if my memory serves me well.

“No.” The word slips from her lips in a near whisper, almost as if she didn’t mean to say it.

Placing the bag holding the takeout lunch containers on the counter, I turn to leave, hoping I’ll be able to make a swift exit. I was wrong to assume we could be friends.

“Eat your lunch before it cools,” I toss over my shoulder before hastily leaving. If I wanted to spar, I would’ve gone to the boxing gym I found two nights ago and taken on whoever I could find.

I’d stupidly hoped we could try to put the past behind us.

Hoped maybe we could move forward.

Into my new future, together.

A future without lies.

“Wait,” she says as the door closes behind me.

I don’t turn around, but I do stop. My shoulders slump in defeat. I’m so far gone for this girl, and I didn’t realize it until this moment. She has the power to destroy me, and she doesn’t know it. Slipping on my mask, I turn when I hear the bell above her door, letting me know she has followed me outside.

“Brant, come back inside.” Placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, she continues, “I’m not above begging, Ace.”

Turning, I gaze into her haunting eyes and say the words I know I shouldn’t. “I’d like for us to try again. I want us to be…more. All I’m asking for is a chance, Tessa. Can you give me one more chance?”

Without breaking eye contact, I place one hand softly upon her face; her skin feels like silk. I told myself I wasn’t going to show my cards, but one glance at her has me turning into an utter fool. It always has, though it was easier to lie to her in the past, before I knew my life would be changing, again. “I’m done lying to myself, and to you. We’re going to make a pact, here and now: no more lies, complete honesty from both of us. My truth is this: I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I know for damn sure you feel the spark between us, and it’s time we stop denying it. We can go slow or we can go fast, your choice, but let’s get one thing clear: we are going to act on this, beautiful girl.”

It’s the last thing I say before my mouth crashes into hers. Her lips gently meld to mine, and we move in a rhythm all our own. The blaze I feel can’t be one-sided—I’ve never felt this…alive. A moan escapes from between her lips, opening her mouth to me. My tongue slips inside and I’m finally tasting her, kissing her deeply like I’ve longed to since the first time I laid eyes on her. She tastes of secrets and cherries. She’s my own personal heaven. My arm snakes around her back, and I pull her closer into my embrace. For a few brief seconds, she’s kissing me back…until suddenly she isn’t.

Her hands land on my chest and shove me back harder than I think she intended—at least I hope she didn’t meant to shove me so hard. After a quick stumble backward, I steady myself in time to hear her next words.

“Back away, Ace. It’s the smartest thing you can do right now. Back the fuck away.”

From the sharp tone of her voice, I can tell she means business. She’s upset, not only with me, but with herself.

I do the only thing I can at the moment.

I back away like she asked me to.

And I keep on backing away until I back into the door of my rental car. As I find the key fob in my pocket, I’m still facing her, but I’m as far away as I can be when I unlock the door and slide myself into the driver’s seat. Backing out of my parking spot, I finally put the car in drive and move forward for the first time since she asked me to back away.

What in the hell did I do wrong?

What in the hell just happened?

Did I truly let Brant kiss me senseless on the sidewalk directly in front of my own store? Judging by my legs of jelly and stomach full of a kaleidoscope of butterflies, all signs point to yes. Yes, I did indeed let myself be kissed senseless. In public. By Brant Ashley.

What the hell was I thinking?

He warned me our friendship was going to change—but he didn’t warn you he was going to kiss you.

Stupid, stupid man.

Why does he have to come stumbling back into my life demanding truth? Why now? What’s changed for him to want to start off with the truth now? Why wasn’t he telling me the truth back when I met him two years ago? What the hell was stopping him from giving me his truths then? Did his blurting out the mindfuck to end all mindfucks to Rhys change the way he wants to live the rest of his life? If it did, more power to him.

But why me?

Why does he want to open up and tell his truths to me?

What’s special about a divorcée who lives in California and runs a small chain boutique?

What does he think will come of telling me?

Because I know one thing for damn sure: I’m not falling in love with Brant Ashley—even if he does kiss like a dream.

Tossing my arms up in the air, I let out a vast, silent huff before entering my store. Jasmine is working the floor and I know she saw every second of what happened. We had one customer in the store and when I walked out, she was back in the dressing room. Without a doubt in my mind, I know Jasmine was watching. Nosy little shit.

Pushing open the door, I’m proven correct by the smug look spread all over her face. She’s going to want to know every single detail the moment the customer leaves. Can’t say I blame her. If the situation were reversed, I’d be asking her for the scoop.

Not bothering to give her an answering look, I grab my now cold lunch and walk back into my office to eat in silence. I’m one step into the room when I hear her voice calling out about wanting the story; I ignore it and shut the door. Locking it, I laugh silently to myself.

Pulling out my lunch, I see there are two containers, both filled with the same thing. Brant must’ve intended on eating lunch with me.

I’m a total bitch.

He’s asking for honesty, so maybe I should give him mine.

Truth is, I wanted his kiss. I’ve been craving it for as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted his blue eyes to glow with his desire for me. I’ve dreamt about running my fingers through his dirty blond hair. I’ve fantasized about leaving claw marks down his golden-skinned back.

But I’ll never tell him these truths. The truth he’ll be getting from me is my horror story of an ex-husband and all my reasons for not wanting to be more than friends.

* * *

Locking up the store has taken on a whole new intensity since my scare the other night. Never wanting to leave a door open again, I now lock all the doors then go back by each one to double check it before I go back to the final door, unlocking it for me to leave, and relocking it twice once I’m out.

If a passerby were to see me, they’d probably think I’m OCD.

I’m not, but I swear on all things holy, I will be by the time I get over this newfound fear of leaving one unlocked.

It’s not like Mick is going to come drunkenly strolling into my store. He’s long gone; I know this. The private investigator I retain gets compensated more than sufficiently for keeping me informed of Mick’s whereabouts, but there’s still the possibility he could come around. Knowing there’s a chance has me never wanting to risk it, so I’ll take the extra steps each night.

In case you’re wondering, I’m fully stocked if I ever do encounter Mick one day.

After the self-defense classes weren’t to my liking, I started taking Krav Maga classes and now attend at least twice a week, sometimes up to four times. I carry mace on my keys, and there’s a reason my purse is extremely heavy—it contains a stun gun and my trusty revolver.

I’m fully prepared for the day danger comes knocking on my door.

I’ll never be taken advantage of again, will never let someone that deeply into my life where they can manipulate me ever again. I’m stronger now, empowered, commanding, fierce.

I’ll never be considered weak in the eyes of anyone again.

I am Tessa Annabelle, hear me roar.

* * *

What’s this constant buzzing sound keeping me from falling back asleep?

And why in the hell won’t it go away?

It’s not my alarm clock—I took one look at it, saw it flashing 4:55 a.m., and flung it across my bedroom. It’s not the alarm on my phone—it’s set to vibrate and hasn’t gone off once.

So what the fuck is it?

Sighing deeply, I decide to ignore it further and burrow deeper into my covers, pulling an extra pillow over my head. Now the sound is gone…or as gone as my feather down pillow can make it. It’s almost blissful again, and I may be able to drift back off to sleep.

BANG!

BANG! BANG!

Seriously, what the fuck? Someone is about to die. Whoever is outside my house at the ass crack of dawn is leaving in a body bag. Maybe I should call the cops first and warn them about the impending homicide about to take place on my front porch.

Glancing down, I notice I’m only in a pair of sleep shorts and a see-through tank top. At least whoever it is will die after getting an eyeful of my rack. Eh, there are worse things to see before you die.

Without glancing through the peephole, I rip open the front door with as much force as I can muster.

“Please tell me what the hell you’re doing at my house before dawn? This had better be important or I’m going to take a page out of Lorena Bobbitt’s book and make a few chops, if you know what I mean.”

“Wow, those are some harsh words, and I have to admit, I’m partial to lil’ Brant.” Holding out his hand, he places a cup of steaming hot deliciousness in my hand. “I came bearing goodies: coffee and brownies. Now, aren’t you going to do the polite thing and invite me in?”

He has the audacity to ask to come inside.

At 5 a.m.

To be clear, it’s 5 o’clock, in the morning.

“For future reference, don’t ever show up at my house this early again unless it’s arranged beforehand for a surfing lesson or something else as equally farfetched. Otherwise, I don’t climb from the comfort of my bed until at least 10 a.m. I never open my store—I have employees who do it for me. I am one hundred thousand percent not a morning person.”

Turning around, I walk back into my house toward the kitchen. I didn’t invite him in, but I did leave the door open, which is sorta the same as an invite, right? People shouldn’t be expected to brain until they’ve consumed at least two giant cups of coffee. Half the time I don’t start to talk until I’m well into my third cup. Whatever he’s doing here can wait until I’ve consumed enough caffeine to be decent…well, semi-decent.

He’s followed me into the kitchen, which I take as a positive sign. He opens the bag containing the brownies and hands me one before taking one for himself. Surprisingly, he’s stayed silent. Bonus points to him.

After eating one brownie, I reach for another. Before taking a bite, I lay out a couple of ground rules. “I applaud you for staying silent thus far. I’m going to need at least two more cups of coffee to reach human status from my current mood of ogre. You’re welcome to stick around until it happens, but never, and I must stress it again, never wake me before 10 a.m. again—unless, of course, someone’s dying, but it can be iffy even then. Depending on who it is, I may choose to stay in bed.”

Instead of answering, he laughs—a full-on belly laugh. Others might call it a guffaw, and whatever it is, it catches me completely off guard. Did I actually say anything funny? Maybe, but I didn’t think I was being funny.

“What’s so amusing?” I ask.

“You’re adorable.” Another chuckle. After he takes a few moments to compose himself, he finally finishes his thought. “You not wanting to be disturbed before 10 a.m. even if someone is dying. You never cease to amaze me, Cherry.”

“Cherry?”

Who the hell is Cherry?

“Yeah, Cherry. You call me Ace, I’m calling you Cherry.”

“But why?” Draining the cup of coffee he gifted me with, I get up to start brewing myself another cup while waiting for him to answer.

“Your lips taste like cherries.”

At least he brought me the coffee in a paper cup, because it’s fallen to the floor with a nearly silent thud. For all of the reasons I could think of with my sleep-deprived brain, I never expected to hear him say I taste like cherries.

I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen with a paper cup at my feet, staring at Brant sitting at my table, looking smug.

It’s entirely too early for this.

He needs to leave.

I need to go back to bed for a couple of hours, wake up, and go to work.

Why is he here?

Pretending his words didn’t affect me, I bend, pick up the cup, toss it in the trash, and brew myself another blissful cup of joe. He’s still staring, but I’m pretending like nothing happened. I told him already I needed more wake-up time, and I’m taking it. If he wants to talk about his new nickname for me, we can continue the conversation later—or not. I vote for not talking about it.

It’s…kinda cute, though.

I’ve never had a nickname given to me by a man before. Baby doesn’t count; it’s generic and doesn’t take any amount of thought. Mick called me baby, and I never want to be somebody’s baby again.

Now, Cherry?

Cherry is a name I could get used to.

Taking my seat, I demolish another brownie, moaning around each mouthful. Closing my eyes, I resist the urge to lick the chocolate icing from my fingers. This brownie? Orgasmic—though it could be because I haven’t eaten a bite since lunchtime yesterday when I rudely told Brant to back away and ruined his lunch as well. In my defense, I didn’t know his lunch was in the bag, too, and he did go ahead and walk away before I stopped him, which led to him kissing me. It’s mostly his fault he missed out on his lunch. He was leaving before I made him leave.

“Cherry?”

“Hm?” Dammit—I acknowledged his nickname for me.

“If you keep moaning while eating your breakfast, I may have to take you back to bed and peel those barely there shorts off your legs and give you something to actually moan about.”

“Nope. Not happening. Never. Get those thoughts out of your head, Ace. This ride”—I motion to what I hope amounts to my whole body—“is closed. A horrible marriage will do that to a girl. The ride formally known as Tessa has closed for any and all future business.”

“We’ll see. We. Will. See,” he replies with an air of arrogance.

“Ah, don’t sound smug. I can wipe smug off your handsome face, bub. All we can be is friends. I’m serious, Brant. Besides, you’re still up shit creek without a paddle. Until I hear some of this truth you’ve been bragging about, the offer of friends is off the table, too.”

“Since your second cup is bone dry, I’m choosing to say why I’m here this early. I stopped by to settle yesterday’s matters with you before you went into work and to get some issues off my chest. I knew it’d be a long talk, so I came shortly after I woke up.”

Ugh. He came to actually talk at the ass crack of dawn? When I’m still feeling a teeny tiny bit jetlagged? Why are men this damn difficult?

“Brant?”

“Yeah?” he asks while getting up to help himself to another fresh cup of coffee. Strange how he feels at home in my place when he’s never been here before today. Come to think of it, how in the hell did he know where I live?

“Is your truth horrible? Do I need to call Jasmine and tell her I’m taking the whole day off?”

What I’m asking is this: do I need to take time off to get drunk? In other words, are his truths going to drive me to drinking? Because if they are, I want to be prepared, and I want to send a text to Averill warning her of my impending call. Why? Because I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it’s telling me I’m not capable of handling his truths.

Threading his fingers through his hair, he tugs on it while letting out an audible sigh before answering me.

“A few of them are horrible, yes, but…there’s a light at the end of the tunnel now. My penance is this close to fully paid, and it’s time to let you in on all of my secrets and truths.”

Well, fuck.