With the wind gusting and leaves skittering across the road and the moon rising above the mountains ahead, I followed Caleb‘s truck. I knew Willow Brook by heart. Fireweed Lane was a few miles beyond downtown with houses scattered amongst the trees and small lakes in the area.

I was curious to see where Caleb lived. Once upon a time when we were silly teenagers, young and in love, we teased about him building a house for us. He was the kind of man who did just about everything. His father was an engineer and had always been in the middle of some sort of project—from simple construction to elaborate projects. Caleb had been raised to do just about everything. It was fair to say most men in Alaska were the quintessential, rugged handymen. Because when you lived on the edge of the wilderness, it was best to be able to do what you needed on your own.

Though I was vaguely aware of the beautiful view of the moon rising above the mountains amidst the last streaks at sunset staining the sky with violet, I was focused on the taillights of Caleb's truck, as if they would lead me to salvation.

Within a few moments, I was rolling to a stop behind his truck. Glancing around, I took in the area. The house sat on a gradual slope. Trees were scattered about with spruce and birch mingling. The slope led down to a stream that meandered along the edge of a grassy field. Denali was behind us here with a clear view of the mountains in the distance.

The house was an octagon shape with gray siding and a purple stainless steel roof. Caleb loved his projects, so I shouldn’t have been surprised he had a home that wasn’t typical. He stepped out of his truck and walked around to meet me. “It’s beautiful here. Nice house.”

His mouth hitched up at one corner, tugging on the strings of my heart and sending flutters spinning in my belly. “Thanks. I built it myself with my father’s help. I got the design from an engineer down in Diamond Creek,” he explained, referring to a small town several hours south of Willow Brook. Diamond Creek was a well-known destination, as it was situated on the pristine waters of Kachemak Bay and had a world-class ski lodge.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing toward the house. Following him up the steps onto a curved deck, we stepped through a doorway.

Entering into the kitchen, I glanced around. The space felt open and airy with windows on three sides and a wall at the back with a single door. A counter ran along the wall in the kitchen area with a sink and stove there. An island across from it followed the curve of the wall. There were stools along the counter. The living room was beyond that with a sectional couch and a television mounted on the wall to the back. A fireplace tiled with gorgeous river rocks was in between two of the windows.

The walls were painted a soft gray with a few black-and-white photographs mounted throughout the space. Caleb had loved to take photos in high school, and I recognized one in particular of the moon above Swan Lake. A spiral staircase was tucked in the corner just beyond the door in the back wall.

I glanced to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he said simply. “You’re seeing just about all of it down here.” Pointing to the door at the back, he continued. “That’s a bathroom and laundry. Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”

I followed him up the spiral staircase where we came into another open space. There were bookshelves under the windows here with two chairs facing out toward the view. There were two doors against the back wall leading to a small guestroom and a master bedroom with its own bathroom. The furniture throughout the home was modern and comfortable looking with the wood light and most of the fabric sage green.

In his bedroom, a dresser sat against one wall under the windows with a massive bed to one side. An archway led into a bathroom tiled in sage green with a shower enclosed in glass and a luxurious bathtub. Glancing into the shower, I looked back over my shoulder.

“Well, you won’t be saving any water in here,” I offered with a laugh, pointing to the multiple jets mounted on the walls.

Caleb was standing over by the door, his shoulder resting against it and one hand in his pocket. His mouth hitched at the corner, his grin sending my belly into a tizzy of flutters.

“It’s recycled water. The whole house is run on solar and wind power. I can use a lot of water if I want since I’m not wasting any.”

“Really? How’d you work that out?”

“That place in Diamond Creek, Off the Grid, is run by Owen and Ivy Manning. They’re environmental engineers, and their specialty is designing places like this.”

“I didn’t even notice the solar panels on the roof,” I said wonderingly.

“They’re on the back side. I got a deal on the design by volunteering to let them test different wind collection designs for the house. Right now, if you walk through the trees near the house you’ll see a bunch of wind chimes. They’re cute, but they’re busy collecting energy.”

“Oh wow! I’ve heard of Off the Grid, but I completely forgot they relocated to Alaska.”

“I can take you down there to meet them sometime. You’d really like them. Owen’s a great guy, and Ivy’s brilliant. Maybe as brilliant as you,” he said without the slightest bit of sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat. “Given what they’ve accomplished, I’m pretty sure she’s more brilliant.”

Caleb shrugged. “So you say. Come on downstairs.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back downstairs. In fact, Caleb’s bed looked beyond tempting. While I knew just what I wanted, I didn’t want to rush. Not any of this.

He’d already turned away and was walking back down the spiral staircase, so I followed. When we reached the kitchen, he opened the fridge and glanced over.

“Wine? Beer?”

I shook my head. I was too keyed up to try to wind down. “No thanks.”

At that moment, there was a scratching sound at the door. Stepping away from the refrigerator, he opened the kitchen door. A gigantic cat came dashing through.

The cat was bright orange swirled through with white and close to the size of a small dog. “Hey Creamsicle,” Caleb said, leaning down to pet the cat twining around his ankles. He glanced over to me. “This is Creamsicle. Technically, he owns the house.”

I laughed as I looked down at the aptly named Creamsicle. “He’s huge,” I observed.

Caleb straightened after a last stroke over Creamsicle’s back. “That he is. He’s solid muscle though. He’s got the run of the house and all the property nearby. He’s tough as hell. An eagle tried to pick him up once, and he fought it off.”

Creamsicle ambled over to me with a twirl around my ankles, his purr audible. Leaning over, I scratched his cheeks and ran my hand over his back as he arched up into my touch. “How did you end up with him? It doesn’t seem ideal to have a cat when you’re gone a lot the way you are,” I said, referring to his job as a hotshot firefighter.

Caleb shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but he found me. One day, he showed up on the back porch in the winter, starving and meowing like crazy. I have no idea where he came from. I asked around town, and no one claimed him. My best guess is maybe one of the hunters lost track of him at one of their hunting cabins nearby. I brought him inside that night, fed him, and he’s never left. My parents stop by and feed him when I’m out at fires.”

Caleb and I stood there, staring at each other for a moment. Creamsicle meandered off to the corner. Finally breaking free of Caleb’s gaze, I almost laughed aloud when I realized Caleb actually had a cat bed in the windowsill. After a few sips of water, Creamsicle leapt onto the windowsill, settled into his bed and promptly began cleaning himself.

Caleb turned away, walking to the fireplace and leaning over to start a fire. I was restless and antsy with little jolts of electricity zinging through me in all directions. I hadn’t noticed the chill until I heard the sound of the fire taking hold. Walking over to stand beside him, I looked down as the flames flashed amongst the logs and kindling.

He turned to face me, taking a few steps and resting his hips on the back edge of the couch. His eyes caught mine for a beat and then flicked down. The heat of his gaze sent a flush through me, blooming from the inside out.

I tried to remember the last time I’d felt like this. It wasn’t as if I’d gone without sex for a decade. Well, I had the last year or more because I’d been freaked out about Lance and his obsession. A few years prior, I had tried to lose myself in anything other than my grief. Yet, nothing took the edge off of it, the wild restlessness lingered and kept me seeking solace in physical escape. Although there had never been any escape. Sex had felt strangely distant.

Caleb was quiet for several taut moments. “Tell me again why you came home,” he said, his voice breaking into the quiet.

His question startled me, but I answered almost immediately. “Because I wanted to.”

“It’s not just because that guy’s been making your life a living hell?”

I shook my head sharply, a flash of annoyance rising inside. Not annoyance with Caleb, but with the situation. “I won’t pretend he didn’t push me to make a decision, but I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t want to. Why does it matter?”

It felt as if he was looking straight into the heart of me. The heat of his gaze was so intense, my heart began to pound, every beat echoing through me.

“Because you mean a lot to me,” he said, his voice gruff and his eyes darkening. “I won’t pretend this is just a fling. Everything between us ended in a mess, and I want a chance to make it right.”

“I do too.”

My voice came out in a raspy whisper. I felt as if I were a speck in a vast ocean, trying to stay afloat, yet tossed asunder with waves crashing over me. I understood what he meant, and I knew what I wanted. Yet, it terrified me at some level. I took a deep breath in an effort to calm the rushing feeling inside, although it was rather futile. I couldn’t tear myself free from his gaze, simply looking at him set me on fire.

Restless, I stepped to him, lifting a hand and tracing my fingertip along his brow, over the slope of his cheek and down along his strong jaw. Touching him anchored me, offering a concrete point of contact amidst the turmoil inside. I didn’t feel so lost and wild inside when I was touching him. Since I could hardly bear to think, I wanted to lose myself in him, in sensation.

His breath drew in sharply when I traced my thumb across his bottom lip. For a man, he had lush, full lips. With his dark hair, his chocolate brown eyes, the strong, chiseled features of his face, and his hard, muscled body, nature had been generous with him. To have a mouth like his, sensual and full, on top of everything else didn’t seem quite fair.

It felt as if little bolts of lightning were bouncing between us, the air nearly vibrating with intensity. He caught my hand in his.

“Ella. Do you want this?” he asked, the ragged edge to his voice sending a shiver up my spine.

Time was moving like molasses and at the speed of light simultaneously. All the while, sensation built inside. The rush and hum in my body propelled me to impulsively move a step closer, between the cage of his legs and coming against his hard body. The feeling sent a bolt of heat straight through me.

“Yes,” I murmured, right before I brought my lips to his.

He was taller than me, but with his hips resting against the back of the couch, we were about level. He held still for a beat when our lips met, and I thought for a minute, he was going to make me wait. Yet, after a moment of stillness, he released my hand and slid one hand into my hair and the other down my spine to cup my bottom. With a growl, his tongue swept into my mouth.

Oh. My. Wow. There was what I wanted and then there was what was happening. I hadn’t forgotten the kiss the other night in the parking lot, nor that first point of contact in the hospital. But this, this was more than a fleeting interaction. I threw myself into our kiss, my tongue tangling with his, pressing as close as I could to him. I wanted to bury myself in him and wrap his strength around me.

I didn’t like thinking about it, but I’d felt so alone for too many years. Right here, right now, I didn’t feel alone.

With recklessness spurring me, my hands were greedy—one sliding up under his shirt at the back, savoring the flex of his muscles, while the other mapped the planes of his chest. He was stronger now—all of him so much more of a man than he’d been before. When you’re young, eighteen seems like a man, but the ten years that had passed had built him into so much more physically. He worked one of the most physically demanding jobs in the world with the hard planes of his body showing it. He broke free from our kiss, leaning back as his hand slid from my hair to cup my cheek. One look in his eyes unleashed a mass of butterflies in my belly.

“I missed you. So fucking much.”