Gio’s words are hooked into my brain at the next day’s shift at Fun Freeze.

It doesn’t stop me from doing an above-average job, of course. The ice cream machines wait for no thoughts. The patterned thrum of the machine reminds me of Gio’s hips—and cock—rocking into me. I have to stop myself from swaying along with it.

What a dirty mind.

Are you happy?

I’m happy now, that’s for sure. I’ve never been this happy. I’ve never been this free.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe the freedom is an illusion.

“Where are you from, sweetheart?” The third man of the day watches my ass while I make him a medium vanilla cone with sprinkles.

“I’m just working for the summer,” I tell him with the world’s brightest smile. “How’s the weather out there? Looks hot.”

“Oh, it’s hot all right.”

“Good thing you stopped for an ice cream.” I’m wearing the regulation t-shirt with my shorts, same as the other servers, but his eyes linger on my chest as I hand him the cone.

Gio meant the tourist season would end. That’s what he was talking about. He was talking about summer turning to fall, and fall to winter, and the Fun Freeze getting boarded up against the snow and ice. That’s what he meant—but there’s more to it than that. I’m certain of it. The season of us being fine could end, too. The season where nobody knows we’re here could end. If my uncle, and god knows how, but if my uncle finds us again...

I make a guy with a nice smile a hot fudge malted and hand it over. Behind my smile are all the thoughts I can’t talk about with anyone else. Not Jennifer, the other girl working her shift at the same time.

“What did you say?” Jennifer yanks the handle on the soft-serve machine down. The girl standing at the window is getting more than the regulation amount of chocolate twist ice cream.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” She blows a lock of red hair out of her face and cuts off the cone with a little flourish.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said how far.” Jennifer laughs on the way to the window to hand the girl her cone. “But you’ve got enough ice cream. You’re good!” She gives me a totally non-sarcastic thumbs up, and I remember that yes, I am indeed at work, and the teenager at my window is going to be thrilled with the enormous small chocolate cone he’s getting.

“Ha,” I say weakly. Jennifer is so enthusiastic that it keeps my attention on her for the rest of the shift.

As soon as the screen door at the back of Fun Freeze slams shut behind me, though, those nagging questions come back.

How far will we have to run?

Can I ever go back home?

Maybe it would be better to go back home.

Maybe it would be better to face the music.

Then again, the small-town life has its charms.

Gio said something the other day about winter in a town like this that makes me hesitate. It would be lonely work, digging ourselves out of the snow every day. At home, my uncle paid a man to plow the driveway when the snow got deep, and there were always buses to ride. God, I was lucky.

The Focus has been baking in the sun while I worked my shift, so I open the windows and let it cool down. There’s always Seattle. I’ve never been to the other side of the country. My mother wanted to run, but not so far that she’d have nobody. One of the guys in my college classes was from Seattle, and he couldn’t shut up about it. Gio might like it there. There’s plenty of city for a guy like him.

I cruise home intending to tell him about Seattle, but the words die on my lips when I see him.

He’s pacing the living room.

“What’s wrong?”

He raises his head and his face lights up. “Sia,” he says, as if he’s shocked that I’ve shown up at all. “You’re home.”

“Of course I’m home.” I drop my purse onto the floor and slip my arms around his waist, pulling him close. He smells like Old Spice body wash and sunshine. “Did you go to the beach?”

“I sat by the water,” he says into my hair. “How was work?”

I pull back to look at him. “I’m more interested in you.” I run a flirty finger down the front of his shirt, trying to make things playful. He doesn’t answer. “Work was fine.”

“Good. Good,” he says, his eyes settling on a distant point over my head. “Are you hungry? Should we start cooking?”

I take his face in both of my hands. “What is on your mind, husband?”

His dark eyes flame. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what I need.”

I smile up at him, my heart easing up its frantic beating. “I know what you need.” I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, softly at first. At first. It doesn’t stay soft for long. I slide my hand down and grasp the hardness of him beneath his shorts, and we’re off to the races. Gio can’t get my shirt off fast enough, but I’ve got a lock on his zipper and he springs out, so hard he twitches.

He was indecisive for a split second but in the bedroom he pushes me down onto my knees. This is a prelude—I won’t spend much time here before he has to have me, but I love the way his body reacts, pulling toward me as I swirl the tip of my tongue over his crown.

I love the way his hand tightens on my ponytail, possessive and strong.

And I love the way he growls, deep and low, “Yes. This is what I need.”