I dropped pieces of dough into the pot and covered it with the lid just as the rumble from Kayson’s Harley pulled up the driveway. Today, I’d cleaned his house, paid my bills via my teeny tiny phone screen, and made dinner. But I still had been bored, all day.

“That looks delicious,” Kayson said as he walked through the garage door.

“Chicken and dumplings.”

“That’s what smells good. I was talking about what looks good.”

His words, sweet Mother of Jesus, what they did to me. How he knew just all the right things to say was beyond me. My legs went wobbly, I grabbed the counter to steady myself, chicken broth splashing everywhere. Kayson moved behind me.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hm.” My words were more of a reassurance to me than they were to him.

I wanted to lean back and melt into him. Have someone to share all of my worries with, talk about my fears. I wanted someone to hold me. Fuck, I didn’t want just any ole someone, I wanted him to be there for me the next day and the next. But that was a fairy tale, and even though we lived in the city of fairy tales, there was no such thing as Prince Charming. Maybe Prince Charming for a moment, but not for a lifetime. Every time I saw Kayson smile, I imagined maybe there was a man who could be faithful and true to one woman all his life. And when he got that stupid sparkle in his eyes, I wished that woman would be me.

Looking up at Kayson, I took a hard swallow and decided that I better start talking and fast. But it was difficult forming a complete sentence, because I had a big ole frog in the back of my throat. “Watched the news today. I’m sorry. You know it’s all my fault, right?” My words sounded more like a croak or that I’d been smoking three packs of cigarettes a day for the last thirty years.

“No, I don’t know that.” He placed a quick kiss on my temple. “Let me go change out of my uniform and lock up my gun, then we can talk.”

This wasn’t good. This couldn’t be good. Had something happened that the news didn’t cover? My heart sank. But then my brain told me to calm the fuck down. It couldn’t have been that bad if he was still able to walk in and joke about how good I looked. God, when people said, “We need to talk,” that was usually a bad thing. I mean, come on, he had to be tired of all the bullshit Brandon was causing, and if it weren’t for me, Brandon would leave him alone.

I was losing my mind over this man. I’d forgotten everything I knew to be true about men. I was just like my mama. Lord, I’d heard enough neighbors say, “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I hated that saying. I fucking hated it. I needed to protect my heart, build walls like he accused me of having, he had the ability to break my heart. . .”

“Stop that,” Kayson hollered from upstairs.

“Everything okay up there?” I asked back, my voice quivering.

“Everything’s fine. Stop what you’re doing Ariel.”

“Setting the table?”

“No. I know you.” I heard his feet on the stairs. “You’re freaking out over what I want to talk about. Don’t put walls up. I’m in.” He moved in behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m staying in.”

He shoved his erection into my back. “And I’m never.” Thrust. “Ever.” Thrust. “Leaving,” he whispered.

One by one, those fucking walls tumbled with each of his stupid pelvic thrusts. I was fucked. I was falling in love with this man. And just like that, in this kitchen, I’d forgotten the past thirteen years of convictions and jumped out of my fortress and into his protective arms.

I carried over two bowls of chicken and dumplings as Kayson refilled my glass and followed behind me with our drinks and the cornbread. We ate while he told me what happened behind the scenes. What the news didn’t show and how Brandon’s words truly affected him, Carter, and Piper.

“He’s trying to get all of the kooks in the viewing area to file complaints about the three of us. He basically put us out as lambs to be slaughtered.”

I was rubbing that damn spot on my forehead just between my eyebrows.

“The good news is that I have you home for two weeks.” I smiled, but knew it was only half hearted. Kayson loved his job and was a natural protector. “None of this would have happened, to any of y’all had it not been for me. Well, if I’m being totally honest, it’s Brandon’s fault. I’m just the connecting thread.”

“Stop.” Kayson’s hands reached for mine as he whispered, “Don’t. Believe it or not, I’d go through all of this shit a million times to have you here.”

My heart melted, my skin warmed, and my body turned to goo at his words.

“I’ve told you about my day. Tell me about yours. The house smells fabulous, looks awesome.” He stood and pulled me to my feet before grabbing my waist and spinning me around.

“What are you doing?” I asked and giggled.

“Just making sure that your ass was still there. I happen to like it, and from the looks of this house, I was afraid that you worked your ass off.”

“You’re a hoot.” Where did this man find these lines?

“Truthfully, I’m worried about my business. I need to get over to my apartment and get some sewing done or I’ll never get my jobs finished. Bridezillas are not fun.”

“How about this? What if tomorrow we go over to your apartment and grab whatever you need, sewing machine, fabric, you name it and bring it here. You can spread out wherever you want. Hell, you can have that extra room by my office for as long as you want it or until this shit settles down. Deal?”

If I said yes, my apartment would be practically empty, we were moving at Mach five, this man was moving me into his home room by room, first the bedroom, then the closet, then the bathroom, and now a sewing room. But I wanted this, I wanted to make him happy, if knowing I was safe made him happy, then I’d work from his house.

“Okay. But has anyone ever told you that you’re like an armadillo?”

“Umm, can’t say that I’ve been called that before.”

“You know how armadillo’s dig? They make holes and then build their own home right under people’s houses. Nothing stops them; they just dig under the wall. That’s you. You’re like a friggin’ armadillo.”

Kayson’s face glowed as he took my words for what they were, heartfelt. He’d dug his way under my walls and into my heart.

* * *

Nine o’clock the next morning, Kayson and I were using the same boxes that he had used for my clothes to pack my sewing supplies. I never realized how much stuff I had until I filled all six boxes and still needed to grab a garbage bag for some extra fabric. I moved the lock on my Bernina sewing machine and folded it down into the hideaway style sewing table, Kayson carried it downstairs then came back up. By the time he returned, I had the drawers on both of the rolling carts taped shut and their wheels popped off. The last thing I needed was for one of those cubbies to go flying out of his truck and miles of pattern paper to litter the roads.

I separated my fabric by type of material, stacked them in boxes, and taped the box shut. One box I saved for all my needles, scissors, and cutting mats. God forbid I left any of my Gingher fabric scissors behind, some things were expensive to a seamstress, and some things were more valuable than gold. And then there were things that we were willing to do hard time over such as someone using fabric scissors to cut paper.

I grabbed the last box, which was the smallest, and filled it with all of my notes, and purchase orders. Taking one final look around, I broke out in a cold sweat when I truly took in the fact that my apartment was practically empty except for the kitchen. It seemed like forever since I had cooked or slept there, and with my entire office being moved over to Kayson’s, it didn’t seem as if I would be doing it again anytime soon. Slowly, okay not that slowly, this man had tunneled his way into my life. I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Think so.”

“Let’s go home.”

Yep, his house was home. After closing the door behind me, I didn’t bother to put tape on the frame since I wasn’t staying there and took one last look behind me.

Kayson opened the passenger side door and helped me in, pressing the auto start on his key fob, he reached over and turned up the air before he secured my last two boxes into his truck. We held hands, his thumb rhythmically sweeping back and forth. This must be what people who take speed feel like, heart racing, endorphins pumping, and paranoia tickling their consciousness just a little. For me, it was fear that all of this was going to blow up in my face.

I had felt the absence of his hand before I took in the song that he had just turned up on the radio: “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran. His hand clutched mine, but he didn’t weave our fingers. Instead, he encased my hand inside his and lightly squeezed. He felt it, this song, it had become our song.

When we pulled up to his house, I was shocked to see Damon and Pop there. Damon met me at the door before Kayson could get out of the truck and helped me down.

“Kalimera koritsi,” Pop said.

I was slowly learning a few Greek words, “Kalimera Pop, Damon,” I said as I gave each one a hug. “What are y’all doing here?”

“We have wood,” Pop said.

Kayson and Damon both let out rip-roaring laughs, and Pop smacked both of them upside the head once he caught on to what they were laughing about.

“We brought supplies to make shelves. Kayson said that you were going to need shelves,” Damon explained.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s no reason to mess up his room.”

“Nonsense. You need it. We have it,” Pop said and walked over to the truck with the Christakos Construction logo on it.

That was when I saw them, not shelves but cabinets. Ready-made cabinets in a gorgeous cream color that had a slightly weathered look to them. They were gorgeous. There were drawers, cabinets, shelves, and several different countertops—an entire workstation.

“What’s with all of the countertops?” I asked.

“Well, we weren’t sure what configuration you needed, so we brought several pieces to see if they’ll fit. If these don’t work, we can get something,” Damon explained.

“It’s up to Kayson, not me. This is Kayson’s home. Whatever he wants.”

All three men met me with the exact same dark, velvety chocolate eyes, but only one of them raised a single eyebrow—Kayson.

My stuff was left in Kayson’s truck as the men carried the cabinets into what Kayson had called the “her office” during our tour. They moved thin cabinets next to wide cabinets, put blocks of wood down, set some cabinets on them, and then added drawers.

“If we use this countertop, it overhangs, but we can add two legs and then there’s room for a garbage can,” Pop added.

“She had all of this stuff spread out on her kitchen table, so she needs a large area to work,” Kayson said.

“You noticed?” I asked.

He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “I notice everything. It’s my job. But with you, I notice everything because you’re so damn sexy.”

“Get a room,” Damon said, which earned him another slap on the back of the head from Pop.

“I’m going to go make you boys some lunch.” I gave Kayson a quick kiss before pulling away.

Really, I just needed a bit of space. I found myself falling even more in love with this thoughtful, considerate man. In love? Fuck, I was in love with him. Holy shit, I was in love with Kayson. I thought if I ever admitted the “L” word that a weight would fall on me but instead it was the opposite. Like…well…being in love with Kayson was right.

In the kitchen, while I had elbow macaroni boiling, I shredded three different types of cheese. I mixed the cheese with milk, heavy cream, some white wine, and a pinch of garlic and onion into a bowl. Just before the macaroni was ready, I removed it from the water and tossed it into a pan. I covered it with the cheese concoction and popped it into the oven to bake. While it cooked, I toasted several pieces of bread and then smashed the hell out of them with some spices to make homemade breadcrumbs for the topping.

Ten minutes later, I pulled the pan out and set it on the stovetop so I could go get the boys. Just outside the door to what would soon be my sewing room, I stopped.

“How’s she doing?” Pop asked between the sound of hammers thumping into the wall.

“Fine. I can’t get it into her head that Brandon is dangerous.”

“She’s independent.”

“Too fucking independent, she hates to ask for help. She feels guilty for everything going on.”

“You’ve got two problems from what I can see,” Pop said. “One, you haven’t told her you’re in love with her yet.”

I squeezed my shirt right over where my heart was and listened to what Kayson said in return. The room was quiet.

Shit.

“Second, what if she doesn’t feel the same way or can’t? There are women that are too independent for a relationship. They can’t accept the give and take. Can you walk away?”

My heart skipped and I wanted to walk in there and tell them that I could love Kayson. That I did love him. My feet carried me forward, and I pushed open the door.

“Hey, guys, ready to take a break and eat?” Okay. So, I really was a chicken shit, but at least I had a bright smile on my face.

The men scarfed down lunch. Then they obviously embraced the saying “kiss the cook,” because Pop gave me a kiss on my cheek, Damon gave me a peck on the top of my head, and Kayson slid one arm around my waist and held my head with his other and dipped me while he kissed me long and deep before they returned to work.

By five o’clock, what was the sewing room was declared finished. Kayson stood outside, talking to his dad and brother, and I lay on the floor in the middle of the room tears streaming down my face. What was I doing, me, Ariel Louise Beaumont, world-class grade A men basher had fallen in love with Kayson Christakos. I had to figure out a way to show him.

I was still contemplating it when Kayson came back in and curled up next to me, his thumb wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“Sweet,” he cooed.

“You call me that like it’s my name.” More tears fell.

“Glika. Agape mou,” Kayson crooned into my ear.

I’d heard him speak a few Greek words to his parents but never to me.

I let my head fall to the side so I could see him, and for maybe the first time, he was just as vulnerable as I was.

“Why? Why are you so kind to me? Why me? What if you change your mind? What if I’m not enough? I’ve never been enough for anyone.”

“It isn’t that you aren’t enough. It’s that I’ll never be able to get enough of you.”

I held his face in my hands. “Why you? Mama and I weren’t enough for my daddy. I wasn’t enough for my mama or Brandon. What makes you so certain that I’ll be enough for you?”

“Oh, my sweet, that was your father’s loss. As far as Brandon? That doesn’t count because he wasn’t the right man for you.” He gazed into my eyes. “Glika. S’agapo. To you, it seems like we’ve just met, but to me I’ve known you much, much longer.” Then his lips were on mine, and it was a raw, hungry passion, a passion that wouldn’t be doused until he was satisfied. His fingers slid through my hair and cupped the back of my head, holding me firm against him.

More than anything at that moment, I wanted to show him that I had figured out who the right man was for me. Moving my hands to his zipper, I let his cock out. I had this need to take charge. To please him, make him beg, go wild. Lowering my head to his rigid shaft, I took him in my mouth and rolled my tongue around the base of the head where he said was the most sensitive. Bobbing up and down, I sucked on him, and his groans told me that I was doing this right.

I squeezed the base of him, holding him upright while I worked my mouth up and down his length. His fingers wrapped around my hair, and I tilted my head up. He was watching me through lust-filled eyes. I wanted him to see all the words I’d been too afraid to say. I wanted him to see them so that I didn’t have to verbalize them, I wasn’t sure that I could.

He got my message loud and clear because I felt him, he thickened and his abs went taut.

“Oh God, Ariel. I’m gonna come.”

I let out a deep moan of approval and kept sucking. I wanted it all, wanted every drop. I felt the first pulse, and I kept breathing, swallowing, as his shaft kept convulsing. I controlled this man, and it was a heady feeling. I released his cock with a pop and raised my head, wiping my mouth, and smiled at him. But he didn’t say anything. I didn’t think he could if he wanted to. He just lay there panting, trying to catch his breath.

“Did I do it right?” I asked

“Oh god. Any better, and you’d have to cover me before the coroner arrived.”

He pulled me down next to him, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Glika.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked.

“Sweet.”

“What else did you say? You know, earlier?”

His breathing stilled for a second, and then I felt his heart speed up.

“Kayson, what did it mean? Please tell me.”

Rolling onto his side, he leaned up on one elbow and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I told you I love you. You don’t have to say anything. Don’t let it scare you.”

I shifted so I was tucked against the curve of his body.

“I’m scared,” I told him as his arms wrapped tightly around me. “I think I’m in love with you, too. I’m just so scared that you’ll hurt me.”

His arms tightened. “I’m sure that over the years, we will hurt each other, that’s normal. But not in the way you’re thinking. Not in a way that can’t be fixed.”

He kissed me then, long and slow before scooping me into his arms and carrying me upstairs. For the next three hours, he worked at proving his love for me.