It’s dark by the time Chance’s truck slows, turning into a driveway. Concrete columns with flickering gas lamps on either side of the drive suspend a large wrought iron gate. He presses a button on his overhead dash and the gate creeps open.

“You okay?” he asks and I nod.

Physically I am okay, much better than I’d be if I were back home in my cold and dark cottage. But emotionally, that’s a different story. My nerves are a jittery mess. I haven’t figured out what Chance wants from me, I’ve spent the entire thirty-minute drive trying to figure it out. I know his reputation, but not once has he shown me that guy.

When he asked to take me out earlier, it was unpolished. Obviously, it was spilling from his mouth without preparation, but there was something so honest in those unpracticed words, despite the absurdity he was proposing, that I found them absolutely adorable.

The logical Mia would have declined, sent him away, stayed holed up and packing her little cottage so she’d be on schedule to drive out of St. Louis tomorrow morning. The selfish Mia, the one I haven’t seen in so long that I’ve forgotten what she’s like, decided if I have to give up everything for what Audrey has done, I wanted one last experience that would be mine, one that I chose and not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

Chance races up the long driveway. With the moon cloaked with clouds, it’s hard to see anything other than where his headlights shine, but I see the dark frame of a large house as he bypasses the front entrance and whips around to the side. He reaches up again, pressing another button and a garage door lifts. He drives in, kills the engine and presses the button to close the door.

“Honey, we’re home,” he teases with a grin. I force a smile and he opens his door and hops down without skipping a beat. Chance races around the truck and is standing with the door open, ready to take my hand to help me out. My feet land on the concrete garage floor and I survey the wide space. The same dark colored SUV that sat in front of my house this morning is parked in the last bay, a motorcycle in the one next to it.

“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” Chance asks, grabbing my bag from the back seat.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Winter isn’t the right time for a ride, but when the spring comes, I’ll take you. You’ll love it,” he says confidently and a pang of disappointment tightens in my stomach. I won’t be here in the spring. It doesn’t matter how much we end up liking one another, I won’t be here the day after tomorrow.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” His warm hand grabs mine and leads me into the house. He sets my bag down in the mudroom and flips on every light in the living area with a single flick of a switch. Letting go of my hand, he urges me to look around.

The kitchen, living, and dining room all share one space, easily six times the size of my small cottage. The living room boasts an oversized leather sectional, large wood and wrought iron end tables and a square leather-tufted coffee table. Dark hardwood floors line most of it, meeting light colored marble floors in the kitchen. High-end shiny stainless appliances nestle between rich dark wood cabinets with a long granite covered center island. Everything is pristine, as if it belongs on the pages of a home magazine.

“I don’t cook much,” Chance says quietly stepping into the kitchen where I’m ogling his eight-burner gas stove. “I usually order pre-prepped meals from a service that delivers.”

“That’s a shame. Your kitchen is beautiful. Surely a woman designed it.” I cringe, immediately wishing I hadn’t said that. “I’m sorry,” I immediately try to retract. Whether it is designed by a woman—his woman—isn’t any of my business. This thing between us can’t go anywhere.

“I would normally laugh that off as a sexist joke, but to be clear, it was a male designer…” He grins and winks when our eyes connect. “But I think what you were really digging for was about the women in my life. I don’t have any, Mia. Never have.”

“What about Gigi?” Seriously, Mia.

“No, never her. I’ve never had a girlfriend. Never bought a woman dinner. Never been on a date. Other than my housekeeper who comes every other week, never had a woman in my house.”

“Your mother?” His eyes drop and I already associate that gesture with hurt. “I’m sorry, Chance. I don’t know why I have diarrhea of the mouth. I’m nervous about being here. Agreeing to go on a date and having a sleep over are two entirely different things.”

He takes a tentative step toward me, closing the distance between us. He reaches out cautiously and wraps his large hands around my shoulders. “Mia, I’m not going to ask you or make you do anything you’re not comfortable with, but having you here with me…feels good.” He smiles and I nod, silently begging for how good this feels to go away. It’ll only end badly to get caught up in another fantasy of my life with Chance McKnight in it. “My mother was not a good person,” Chance says softly. “She was a druggie who would sell her food stamps to buy drugs rather than feed her son and a prostitute when that, and the welfare checks, weren’t enough to support her habit.”

“I’m so sorry, Chance.” Before I think better of it, I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest and squeezing him tight. The sweet musk of his cologne and the heat of his skin fill my senses, soothing me in the process. I meant to comfort him, but when his arms slip around my shoulders, enveloping me under his large frame, I’m not so sure I’m the one doing the comforting.

“Don’t apologize Mia. It’s not your cross to bear,” he says, pushing back enough to look down, locking his gaze on mine. He leans in, I close my eyes and his lips softly press against my forehead. He steps back, releasing his hold and I silently whimper at the loss of the kiss I had desperately wanted. I don’t know what Chance’s interest in me is. I’ve spent the last couple years of my life scrutinizing every decision and for once, I just don’t have the energy or desire to pick this apart. He clears his throat. “I don’t have much food here. I need to go to the gym first thing, but we can go to the store when I get back home.”

Another pang of disappointment hits me in the chest. He opens the refrigerator and hangs on the door, pulling out the drawers and closing them quickly. “I can make us a kick ass grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he turns smiling, holding a block of cheese.

“You can make kick ass grilled cheese and tomato soup?” I tease, knowing what he’s doing. Twice in the matter of the last two hours, Chance has let his guard down. It’s obvious it’s not a comfortable place for him to go, but he does and then this side of him comes out. I like the adorable Chance, but if I’m being honest, I want to know everything there is about this man and the little snapshots of his painful past are as much a part of him as the one standing in front of me with a smile. I’ll take it all…even if it is just for one night.

“No, I said kick ass grilled cheese, there’s nothing kick ass about my can tomato soup,” He chuckles, tossing the cheese on the counter and disappearing through a door. “Just don’t tell Vic I’m eating this shit.”

“Who’s Vic?”

“He’s my trainer, my manager, kind of like the father I never had,” his muffled voice comes out from the doorway, this time holding bread and two small cans of soup.

“Tell me about him.” I slide up on the counter.

“He’s mean as shit.” Chance laughs and regardless of his words, it’s obvious there’s nothing but love for the man. “He’s old school in every sense of the word. You should see his office. He’s got this old office chair they probably made sixty years ago and his phone…” he pauses with a chuckle. “It’s the kind with the rotary dial. They probably quit making those before I was born! It’s amazing that thing still works. Guy won’t buy a cell phone and don’t get me started on his truck.” He laughs again.

Chance goes on and on about Vic while we eat, telling me how the old man saved him, from what he believes would have been eventual death to their training today. His excitement is contagious, engaging, and before I realize, I have a genuinely happy smile on my face as I’ve forgotten all about my own disastrous life while envisioning this old grumpy grey-haired guy with bushy eyebrows and a cigar hanging from his mouth, wearing a track suit.

“So, what you’re saying is, he doesn’t give up on anything,” I say questionably in conclusion of hearing the stories about Vic. Chance’s eyes watch me in that way that has already become familiar and then smiles.

“That’s exactly the kind of guy he is. Fuck knows where I’d be if he gave up on me.”

I glance around the house. “Something tells me you’d be okay.”

“No, I wouldn’t be. It was Vic that let me believe I could do this. I may know it now, but I didn’t back then.”

“He sounds like a great guy.” I smile, a small part of me wishing I could meet him.

“He’s the best. They don’t make men like him anymore.”

My cell phone rings from my purse and I look at the time. It’s late. “It’s probably my sister.”

“Do you want to get it?”

“I’ll call her back in a little while. I should get to bed. Can you show me where I’m sleeping?” That’s probably one of the most awkward sentences ever muttered from my mouth. I’ve just had the most amazing night with Chance McKnight, I’m staying in his house and I ask…where am I sleeping?

“Sure, let me get your bag,” he says and if I don’t know better, a look of disappointment briefly flashed across his face.

Chance leads me into an upstairs guest room after pointing out which room is his. He doesn’t walk more than a few feet inside and I think that’s probably for the best, but part of me wishes he’d make the first move. It somehow seems less sleazy—at least in my mind. He sets the bag just inside the doorway and steps back into the hall. “You have your own bathroom; there are towels and stuff in the cabinets. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” He leans in, kissing my cheek and walks away.

“Mia?” he calls out.

“Yeah?” I step back out in the hall.

“I had a good time tonight.” He winks and drops down the stairs, not waiting for my reply.

“Me too,” I whisper to the empty hall before returning to the bedroom. I step inside, close the door, and lean against its surface, torn on what to do. My phone rings again and I sigh. Audrey will know what to do. If there’s one thing she is an expert on, it’s one-night stands.

“Hey,” I say on the last ring, hoping I’ve caught her in time. I land on the soft bed and lean back against the pillows.

“What did you decide to do?” Her question brings the reality of my situation front and center. And there are no Chance McKnight’s in my reality. And certainly no carefree one-night stands. There’s packing that needs to be done and miles that need to be put between St. Louis and me. It’s the only way to save my life.

“I’m going to leave in the morning, but I ran into a problem today.”

“What?” she asks anxiously.

“I had my power shut off, so my place is dark and cold.” I decide to bypass my run-in with Paul. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m safe under Chance’s roof for the night and when I get home tomorrow, I’ll be on the road, heading south and away from Paul before nightfall.

“Shit, are you freezing your tits off right now? I just saw on the news where that storm is moving in faster than they predicted—”

“What?” I sit up from the bed.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to get out of there by lunch time at the latest. You don’t want to be on the roads after that.”

“Fuck!” I whisper yell wondering how I can get home and start packing now. I step to the window and the start of snow is falling, dusting the ground in a white powder.

“Can you leave now and at least get a few hours south?”

“No, I’m not packed and I’m not home.”

“Where are you?”

“Chance’s.” I cringe when she squeals.

“Holy fuck, Mia! You don’t mess around, bypassing the bodyguard and moving right onto the rich dude. That’s genius! He can buy your way out of your debt—”

“My debt?”

“You know what I mean,” she scoffs before continuing. “This couldn’t have worked out better if you’d tried. Wait…did you try? Did you find him? If you did, you are one resourceful bitch. I’ve never given you enough credit.” She laughs.

My mind flits to Chance and can affirmatively say I did not find him. He found me, barreling into my life like a dark knight and has wedged himself there ever since. I didn’t want to come upstairs tonight. I would have stayed down there and listened to anything he had to say, but I found myself drifting into a fantasy of having him in my life, so it’s best for my heart that I did.

“Mia…” Audrey sings. “Are you there or are you distracted by that sexy fucking boxer? God Mia, what are the fucking odds that you land Chance McKnight?” Audrey sounds pleased with this turn of events, but I’m not so sure because as much as I feel safe here, I’m not willing to involve him in my shit and certainly not Audrey’s.

“I’m not distracted by him and I didn’t land him. I’m in my own guest room—”

“Are you fucking crazy? Some of the girls at the club have been trying to get with him for months…maybe even years, Mia! Gigi came close, according to her...is that even true? I felt like she was always full of shit. Anyway, you’re in a guest room when you could be in his bed?” A jealous streak spears through me at the thought of Gigi touching Chance.

“He just happened to be at my house today when the power company turned off my power and he felt bad for me.”

“Chance McKnight doesn’t feel bad for people, Mia. He hardly speaks to anyone except that big guy and his friend Eric, Jimmy’s nephew. They’re like his only two friends in the world.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I notice things, I’m a noticer.” She giggles and I smile, loving the sound of it. It reminds me of the teenage Audrey. Before we lost her. “And why was he at your house?”

“I don’t even know. We didn’t really talk. The power got shut off and he said I could stay with him,” I lie. I’m getting good at that these days.

“Did you tell him you’re leaving?”

“No.”

“Why’s that Mia?”

“It never came up, okay?”

“Uh-huh. You need to go bed that sexy fucking beast.” She giggles and hangs up.

I look toward the door, no less torn now than I was before her call.