It was five after six when I pulled up in front of Hope and Evan’s house.

The sun was a blazing halo that hung low on the Alabama horizon. Hazy rays glinted through the leafy trees and cast the air in shimmers and shadows.

The second I stepped from my car, the overpowering scent of honeysuckle hit my senses, the muggy summer in full bloom.

My heart rate kicked. A jumble of nerves and uncertainty.

That didn’t stop me from heading for the white-picket fence that enclosed the perfectly hedged lawn.

Still, each step wound me tighter, ribbons of anticipation and greed.

I opened the short gate and strode up the walkway that cut through the center of the front yard, passing by the two massive trees on either side of the sidewalk that stood like proud soldiers guarding the quaint house.

Never slowing, I bounded up the two steps and onto the white porch. Potted plants were set up all over the place, vines growing over the railings, the door painted a bright red to give it a splash of color.

The little house screamed charm and comfort. It was the kind of place where you liked to imagine a happy family rested behind its doors, all of them curled up on the couch where they watched a show together.

My chest tightened, my mind wandering with questions, knowing I didn’t really have the first clue about their lives. Wondering if it was good. If they were really happy.

This antsy need lit up my veins with the drive to offer them some of it.

Fuck. I really was losing my mind.

I rapped at the door.

A riot of footsteps thudded on the other side, frantic fingers flying through the locks. I thought maybe I had some of my answer to that when what had to be the happiest kid in the world grinned from the other side when the door swung open.

Wavy red hair and freckled nose and hopeful green eyes.

HI, he signed, bouncing on his toes, putting all kinds of emotion into that simple gesture.

My heart did that wobbly thing in my chest. Like it no longer fit. I gave an awkward wave. “Hey, Evan, how are you?”

He gave me a thumbs-up, and I had no idea why I found that so cute.

Felt like he was trying to make things as simple for me as he could—because God knew I was the one who had no clue what the fuck he was doing—the same as when he waved his hand in the air, indicating for me to follow.

I glanced around, quick to take in their home.

The front door opened to a small foyer that faced an arch that led to the living space, which was lined by crown molding.

An overstuffed couch covered in pillows and throws took up most of the room, two armchairs situated on either side, and a plush area rug covering the dark hardwood floors. All three pieces of furniture were angled so each seat had a good view of the television.

But none of that was the focus. No, because it was abundantly clear where all Hope’s attention was aimed.

Pictures of Evan as far as the eye could see. Every surface and wall. A mismatch of frames and sizes.

Organized like art.

Like praise.

Evan darted down a short hall to the right, and I tore myself away from the scene in front of me and followed.

My stride easy until I damned near tripped over my feet when he led me through a smaller arch and into the kitchen.

Because Hope was bent over, wearing that same lust-inducing dress she’d had on earlier at the shop. She was digging into a bottom cupboard, her perfect, round ass swaying from side to side.

That ass I wanted to sink my teeth into.

Mouthwatering.

Every bit as much as whatever that insanely delicious smell was that filled the air.

Hearty and thick and warm.

She jerked around when she heard us walk in behind her. Green eyes went wide in her own kind of shock, like even though she expected me, she was still unprepared.

And that unbridled connection I felt to her every time I was in her space . . .

It surged.

Free and fast.

Rushing across the floor before either of us had the chance to find our footing.

Invading and penetrating and capturing.

Attraction and need.

This insane desire that threatened to get the best of me.

But that wasn’t why I was here, so I tamped it down.

Clearing my throat, I pinned on an easy expression. That was the only way I was going to make it through this without having her on that counter, her legs around my waist, mouth devouring every inch of her.

“Hey, Shortcake.” I stretched out my arms, the sleeves of my button-up rolled up my forearms. “I’m here and at your disposal. Whatever fits your fancy. Don’t be shy. Use me up.”

For a few beats, she breathed deeply. Like she needed to find her axis the same way I just had to do.

Beating the attraction down.

Both of us coming to the same place. The reason I was there.

To give something back when these two so clearly gave and gave.

I watched as her shoulders relaxed and amusement fluttered across those plush, pink lips. “Watch yourself, Dr. Bryant. You call me Shortcake one more time, and I’ll have you out back mowing my lawn.”

“Is that a threat? Come on, tell me you can do better than that.”

She grabbed mitts and opened the top oven, because even though the girl’s house was modest, the kitchen was not.

Gourmet might have been an understatement.

She had one of those huge industrial refrigerators and a double oven to match. Everything white and country and oozing the same kind of charm that seeped from her pores.

She leaned over and pulled out a casserole dish.

Good God. I almost blacked out.

Lush red hair falling around one shoulder as she leaned down, back arching just a fraction, the profile of her face revealing that button nose and pouty lips and dimpled chin.

She glanced at me from over her shoulder. “Oh, Dr. Bryant, you are heading into dangerous territory . . .”

My eyes raked over her body. Didn’t I know it.

“I just might have a to-do list that is begging for attention. Considering I have no ‘Honey,’ it’s grown about fifteen miles long,” she teased, and I realized how much I liked it when she did.

When she felt comfortable enough to let go of a little of her worry when she was in my presence.

I flexed my arms. Satisfaction lined my insides when her attention went there, her breaths coming shorter and shorter. “Are you asking me to rescue you again, Shortcake? Bring it on, baby. Sir Bryant, remember? I’m obligated to do anything for my princess. And believe me, I won’t consider it a burden.”

Evan was suddenly right in my face, holding his pad up for me to see it, jarring me back into the reason I was there.

Which was absolutely not to flirt with his mom.

With all his stealth lip-reading, I could only pray the kid couldn’t pick up on innuendo, too.

He jabbed at the page with his forefinger, brows rising high.

Forcing myself to stop looking at his mother, I chuckled at the way Evan was staring up at me like he’d be all too happy to put me in my place.

This time, I didn’t even try to stop myself from ruffling my fingers through his hair.

Grabbing his notebook, I headed over to the island. He scrambled onto a stool right beside where I stood so he could read as I wrote.

Knew he could read my lips, but something about communicating with him this way made me feel like I was talking directly to him.

I looked up, made sure Evan wasn’t paying attention, and said, “But if your mom wants to put me to work after we’re finished, she totally can. I’m all hers.”

Fighting laughter, she narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m pretty sure these lollipops are going to keep you plenty busy. They are a lot more time-consuming than you can imagine. By the end of the night, you’ll be regretting agreeing to come help. Begging for someone to put you out of your misery.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I can go all night.”

Damn it all, I just couldn’t help myself. Not when it came to her. Not when I knew that redness would go flushing up her neck and splashing on her cheeks.

Sweet.

Heat.

“Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you, Dr. Bryant?” The words fell from her lips, throaty and low.

As she rounded the island, my attention swept from her legs, to the swish of her hips, and to the sway of her ass. She hiked up on her toes and grabbed three plates from a high cupboard.

“I’m one-hundred percent confident in myself, Ms. Masterson. I wasn’t granted knighthood without reason. And I believe we’ve already talked about my stamina.”

This time, she did laugh, shaking her head. “You are the cockiest man I’ve ever met.”

She glanced back at me. Playful and sexy and the best thing I’d ever seen.

This woman was a vision. The kind of face that hit me right in the gut. Because there was no question she was stunning.

But it was the sheer goodness radiating from underneath that absolutely made her glow.

“Don’t ever mistake confidence with arrogance. They are two very different things,” I told her. Tension throbbed, clinging to the air and rippling with unspoken things.

Like she was issuing a secret, saying she’d really like to experience what that might be like.

“Shall we get to work so I can prove it?” I asked, not even sure what I was asking anymore. Knowing I just kept getting myself deeper and deeper. But I didn’t know how to stop myself when I was around her.

She walked back to the island. Evan had his head down, scribbling something across the page. She set the plates on the counter and pressed her hands to either side of them, the swell of her tits just peaking over the neckline of her dress.

“Dinner first. You’re going to need your energy.”

Reading his question, I pursed my lips in playful contemplation before I said, “Pizza.”

I made sure Evan, who was sitting next to me at the table, could see my lips clearly.

“Uh . . . foreign or American?”

He studied me through his thick glasses, so damned cute I was having a hard time focusing on making the candy. Having a tougher and tougher time keeping it at bay, the affection for this kid that just kept growing and growing.

“Well, that’s easy then. A 1968 Shelby Mustang.”

Whoa, he mouthed, nodding his agreement. Mine, too.

“Really . . . are you sure you’re not just trying to copy me?” I would have written it down, but I was wearing plastic gloves that were covered with melted sugar.

Across the table from us, Hope was over there, grinning this affected, sweet grin as she worked.

Her expression beneath the light pouring in from above shot straight through the center of me. The girl looked so damned happy while she listened to the interrogation Evan had been giving me for the last twenty minutes.

He angled the pad of paper in my direction before widening his eyes and giving me a little shake of his head.

Like I already should have known.

I grinned at him. Of course, I did.

My expression must have assuaged him, because he was tapping the end of the marker on the pad, considering his next question.

“Strawberry.”

It was out without a thought, and my gaze immediately darted to Hope across the table.

Maybe just so I could catch the blush heating up on her cheeks.

Obviously, she knew exactly the direction my thoughts had gone spiraling.

To strawberries and cream and all things sweet.

The way I wanted to lick her up and down. Go back to that night when she’d been in the palm of my hands and my name had been a whimper on her tongue.

A curl of lust threatened, and I tamped it down, refusing to go down that path, yet somehow, feeling like going there was inevitable at the same time.

Evan’s hand flew across the page.

Okay, then. Apparently, I wasn’t doing that bang-up of a job keeping my thoughts to myself.

I stopped what I was doing and shucked off the gloves, eyeing him as I grabbed the pad.

His answer was swift and honest.

Damn, this kid saw things in a way unlike no other kid I’d ever met.

Keen and smart and discerning.

I hesitated for only a second before I wrote out my response.

Evan was grinning when he looked over at her before scratching something on the pad.

“What are you two over there gossiping about?” Hope asked, leaning farther over the table so she could sneak a peek at our private conversation.

That subtle blush blossomed when she saw the truth of what her son and I had been discussing.

“Oh, you two stop it. Every eight-year-old boy thinks his mama is the prettiest in the world until he gets to be a teenager, and then he decides to pretend like she doesn’t even exist.” It was all a gentle chiding.

NO WAY, he signed. MY FAVORITE was as close as I could get to figuring what he’d said.

Which made perfect sense, considering her smile turned so damned soft I felt something inside me melt just looking at the two of them.

MY HEART. That I got, without question, Evan’s little lips moving as he looked at his mother, his little hand fisted over his chest.

Hope gestured the same, touching her chest, her gaze adoring.

My insides clenched almost painfully. Something that beautiful was hard to take in. The bond they shared. How was it possible I was goddamned terrified of it and drawn to it at the same time?

Evan looked back at me before he scribbled quickly.

Was it regret I felt when I took back the marker and started to write?

Another pass of the marker.

This kid.

Sitting there, I didn’t know why that didn’t seem like enough.

I shoved the feeling off and poked him gently in the side. “Now get to work, little slacker.”

He laughed, that rasping sound coming from his mouth, his smile so bright, his lips moving between the juts of laughter as he wrote.

No.

Not even.

But if I spent more time in their space, I was going to be a goner.

And I wasn’t sure my heart could take that.

“You were not joking.” I glanced over at Hope, who was standing hunched over the table and carefully winding the long ropes of colored candy into circles before she pressed sticks into their bases.

Why I was whispering, I didn’t know.

But somehow it fit the mood the long night had slipped into.

The quiet vibe that had taken over the space.

“Where’s that stamina you were bragging about a few hours ago?” It might have been a tease if the words hadn’t have been so strained, so weighted in her own exhaustion.

A light chuckle rumbled out. “Guess I shouldn’t be so sure of myself, after all. Some things are harder than they look.”

She flinched with the double-meaning of it.

Both of us painfully aware of the other.

Like each of our movements barreled across the table.

Ricocheting and compounding.

We’d been at it for hours.

My fingers were sore, and my back hurt from leaning over for so long.

Heating the sugar and corn syrup on the stove.

Adding the flavor and the colors.

Rolling it into ropes.

Twisting them into circles.

Pressing the sticks into the bases.

It was tedious and time-consuming, and we most definitely hadn’t come close to making the million Evan thought we would.

Still, we’d made a ton. Trays of them sat on every surface in varying degrees of readiness. Cooling before they could be wrapped in clear wrappers so the ribbon and stickers could be affixed, which was actually Evan’s job on this makeshift assembly line.

Evan, who was fast asleep on the couch. Three hours before, he’d claimed he needed a break. Thirty minutes later, I’d tiptoed to the living room to check on him, only to find him curled under one of the throw blankets on the couch, his glasses askew, mouth open as his small breaths filled the air.

I’d taken his glasses and set them on the coffee table, somehow knowing I was crossing far too many lines when I pulled the blanket over his shoulders, affection so thick in my chest I could almost taste it.

I couldn’t stop it.

Not after having what had to be the most amazing night of my life.

Hours spent with him and his mom. With his trusting smile and open, incredible mind. With their amazing connection. Their love so free. Unconditional.

With Hope’s heart shining so bright, her body a stunning distraction.

Light and life and belief.

Yeah. I loved seeing it with Rex and Rynna. Their happy family. Didn’t know of many people who deserved it the way they did.

But that experience was always me on the outside looking in. Doing my best to be there for them when they needed me.

Tonight, I’d felt right in the middle of it.

A partner to it.

A part of it.

It was stupid.

I hardly even knew them.

But standing there looking down at him, I’d been wishing things could maybe be different. I’d been wishing that fate wasn’t such a cruel bitch to send me these two when I couldn’t keep them. Shouldn’t keep them.

Because everything felt too close and too raw and too real.

Besides, I knew Hope was struggling to deal with something bigger than I fully understood.

My bones howled with the warning that I shouldn’t even be there. But my spirit was demanding I stay. That I explore whatever was happening between us. It felt too important to ignore.

The awareness of it had seeped into the atmosphere when I’d come back into the kitchen and told Hope he was asleep.

All the playful easiness from earlier had been erased.

In its place was an intensity that slowed the atmosphere. The room echoing with what-ifs and questions and hunger. This blinding need that tugged and pushed and bound.

“It’s really late, Kale. You should go home. I never expected you’d stay this long.”

I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely one a.m. on a Friday night. That’s still early.”

I attempted a smirk that fell flat.

She gave a little huff. “I bet. Though, I’m sure you are much more accustomed to putting that stamina to better use on Fridays in the middle of the night. You regretting it yet, Cowboy?”

My mind blazed right back to that Friday two weeks ago.

I could hear her.

Taste her.

I angled my gaze her direction, pinning her with my stare, voice going deep. “My only regret is you not having the chance to experience it yet.”

“Kale,” she whispered, her fingers fumbling as she wound the candy. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not the one who’s doing it, Hope. Seems to me it’s already there, whether we give it permission to be or not.”

She blinked, trying to concentrate on finishing one of the last lollipops. I still could see the small tremble on the corner of her delicious mouth. “You’re right. It’s there. I just wish it would have come at a better time.” I could see it, the fear that suddenly blistered across her flesh, the way those eyes glinted beneath the light with the moisture that had instantly gathered.

Rage.

It burned.

Immediate.

Hardening every place inside me. The sudden, consuming need to wrap both of them up and protect them.

“What is he asking?” I pushed out through gritted teeth, trying to keep myself cool and composed.

Impossible.

She exhaled a harsh breath, eyes moving to the archway to ensure Evan was still asleep before she looked back at me. “I’m not sure I should be telling you any of this.”

I blinked, swallowing back the fury, something that was typically so foreign for me. I was the laid back one. The one who found the good in all situations.

But whoever that piece of shit was had the power to obliterate that.

My teeth gritted. “Why not?”

A small gesture of her chin as she said, “For starters, you basically look like you want to up and murder someone at the mention of my ex.”

“That only seems natural.”

“What’s that?”

“Wanting to protect you.”

She dropped her gaze back to her work, and I reached out, touched her hand from across the table. “I want to know, Hope. You can trust me.”

Her eyes squeezed closed, like she wanted to disagree, or maybe like she wanted to run and hide, obviously struggling around the fear that had taken her whole.

“He wasn’t a good dad?” Obvious, I knew, but I needed the verification. Her proof. Because I was feeling things I hadn’t ever felt before.

A wild kind of protectiveness.

A savage kind of possessiveness.

She rasped a hoarse, unamused laugh, as she peered over at me.

“No, Kale, he wasn’t a good dad.”

Violence curled my fists. The itch to get up. Hunt him down.

“And I know what you’re thinking . . .” she rushed. “It wasn’t physical. It was . . .”

I attempted to keep my voice steady, but it tremored with barely contained fury. “What? You can tell me anything.”

Fuck.

Deeper and deeper.

I couldn’t stop.

She looked over at me.

Hopelessly.

Which just about fucking killed me.

“He rejected him as his child the second we found out about his heart condition.”

My curled fists tightened. The tight rein I had on my anger slipped, just a fraction. “How could he do that?”

It wasn’t even a question. I just couldn’t fathom a father rejecting that kid.

That amazing kid.

An old kind of sorrow shook her head. “At first, I thought he was in shock. Processing it in his own way. But time wore on, and it only got worse and worse. The only thing he cared about was inheriting his grandfather’s company, working day and night, his life consumed with earning that spot. Wanting the money. That became the only thing his life was about. I tried to hold out faith until there wasn’t any faith left to hold on to.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she pressed the stick into the last lollipop, sinking into a chair from where she was standing.

Like she couldn’t remain on her feet anymore.

“He—” She slammed her lips together and harshly shook her head, like she was about to admit something and then stopped herself. She hesitated for a couple seconds before she tentatively cut her gaze my direction, admitting what she thought she could, “It all finally came to a head a year ago, and I knew I couldn’t keep my son in that house for a second longer.”

Without a doubt, she was keeping the details veiled. Hidden. But I wanted to know it all. Every element. Fuel for the hatred that coursed and raced.

She cleared the thickness from her throat. “I packed our things and left. We were hiding out at Jenna’s house, and of course, he showed up there demanding for us to come home. She threatened to call the police if he tried to get through her door. I petitioned for divorce. I asked for full custody and nothing more. I’d saved enough that I could put a down payment on this little house. I didn’t want his support or his time or anything because he has never wanted anything from Evan. All I wanted was a quiet separation and our freedom.”

Lines of pain tweaked all over her face, her voice rough. “I did what I thought I had to do, Kale.”

There was so much in that statement. Something she wanted me to know and couldn’t bring herself to say.

Anger swelled in the room. A swilling wave threatening to take me under.

Because this? I didn’t know if I could handle it. Hearing about someone doing either her or Evan wrong.

Her inhale was sharp. Cutting. “He fought me from the beginning . . . saying I would regret it if I left him. I told him the only thing I wanted was my son free of his influence, so he did the one thing he knew would hurt me most . . .”

Head dropping, she choked as tears streaked down her face. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were nothing but devastation. “This last week, I received a counter to my divorce claim. He’s asking for full custody. The whole point of my leaving was to remove Evan completely from his life, protect him, and now he’s trying to take him away from me.”

My teeth ground as that rage clattered around my ribcage, and I couldn’t remain sitting any longer. I was moving around the table. My discarded gloves hit the floor a split second before my knees did, and then I was cupping her face, urging her to look at me. “There is no chance on this earth that any court would declare you an unfit mother, Hope. None. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

Sniffling, she gave me one of those believing smiles, the kind that made her glow.

Sunshine.

Could feel it heating those vacant, dead places inside me. That place riddled with fear when all I’d ever wanted to be was the one who was brave.

The goddamned hero.

Or maybe it was the hatred that flamed. Hate for a man I hadn’t even met. A man who was the one who was going to be feeling all the regret if we ever crossed paths.

“That’s what Jenna keeps saying, and I’m trying to cling to that belief.”

I ran my thumb under the hollow of her eye and then dropped my hands. “Good. Believe it. Hold on to it. Don’t ever, ever give up on hope.”

She smiled this wistful smile. “My heart has always been hung on hope.”

My chest squeezed. Because I got it. She was an incredible woman who carried her entire world on her shoulders. And, fuck, I wanted to bear some of that weight.

I knew I didn’t deserve the jealousy that raved through my insides. But it was there. Alive and thriving. “So, if he rejected Evan, why the hell would he want custody?”

A shrug of her dainty shoulders and a tug of her bottom lip between her teeth. “Part of it is because I left him. Because of his pride. But I can’t help but feel it’s more than that. He says he still loves me, but then he always blamed me.”

“That Evan was sick?”

Her nod was shaky. “We didn’t know anything was wrong until Evan was two days old. He was this perfect, tiny thing. Small. So small. But the doctors didn’t seem to be all that concerned. Until the nurse listened to his heart on his final check when we were being discharged from the hospital.”

Her voice trembled, taken back to that day. “They flew him to Memphis to the big children’s hospital there. He had his first heart surgery when he was five days old. Five days old.”

Hope clutched her chest. “I’ve never been so scared in all my life. They tried to repair his abnormality, hoping it would be enough for him not to need a transplant, but they didn’t give us a lot of reassurance that it would. They told us to prepare for the worst. They told us his condition was typically caused by a genetic defect, and that if he did live, then we should expect it to also present in other ways.”

Images flashed. My greatest loss. My biggest regret.

I sucked in air against the memories, trying not to compare the two. But it was so fucking hard. So close. Too similar. Still, it didn’t seem to fucking matter because all I wanted was to move closer, hold her, take the turmoil away.

“Hope,” I murmured, shifting farther around so I could see her better, see the brilliant love that shined on her face.

Really, I didn’t even have to look.

Because I could feel it.

Bounding from the walls. She gave a soggy smile. “I didn’t accept what they said, Kale. I knew my baby would be just fine. That he would grow and love and live. And that the world might see him differently, but he was exactly how he was supposed to be. I won’t lie and say it was easy, because those were the most difficult, terrifying months and years of my life. But never—not once—did I give up hope.”

“And that hope shines right out of him,” I said.

Her face pinched. “But his father . . . his father didn’t get the perfect son he demanded. He refused to be tested to see if he carried the gene. Telling me it was bullshit. That we should let him go and try again.”

The last tore from her throat on a cry. On the hurt and wounds the bastard had inflicted.

That rage.

It blistered.

Blinking through her tears, she dropped her gaze, her chest heaving, before looking back at me.

Destroyed.

Her expression was nothing but desolation.

“I took Evan away because he wanted me to sign a DNR. If Evan falls ill again, he doesn’t want us to fight to save him. I can’t let that happen. I did what I had to do.” She begged the last. Like she was pleading for me to understand.

I choked out this sound that verged somewhere between horror and the threat of revenge.

“Fuck,” I muttered, trying to process. To make sense of what all of this really meant.

Monster.

That vile bastard was nothing but a monster. I hated him.

But I didn’t know how to say it. How I would get out of it if I stepped in the middle of it. But that was what I wanted to do. I wanted to get in the ring and beat the piece of shit bloody.

Her expression shifted into one of stark vulnerability. “But you’ve probably already read all of this in his records, haven’t you, Dr. Bryant?” She said it like she wanted to attempt a tease, before she fell back into somberness. “You probably understand it better than I do.”

I let a small smile tweak the corner of my mouth. “Well, I knew some of it. But his records never said anything about his father being a douchebag who needs to be taught a few lessons about being a man.”

She stumbled over a small laugh. “Well, I wish they did. I could use it in court.”

“Done,” I said, forcing a grin before I sobered again, studying her expression.

“So, really, he’s just doing all of this to threaten you? To force you into doing what he wants?”

He wanted her.

But not Evan.

What a sick fucker.

A tremor raced her throat when she swallowed. “I have no idea what he really wants, Kale. I don’t even think he knows. And the only thing I want is him to leave us alone. Let us live.”

I took her face between my palms again, making sure she was looking directly into my eyes before I said, “You are, Hope. You are living and giving your son the best kind of life. He’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” she whispered. I did my best to tame the overwhelming feeling that raced my veins.

Possession

Greed.

Not because I wanted to control her the way that prick tried to keep her under his thumb but because the need to protect her was almost a riot where it clamored to take hold inside me.

Raging and growing and stirring.

“Don’t let him scare you. I know that’s simple for me to say, but I promise you . . . you don’t have anything to worry about. No judge would ever find in that bastard’s favor. And if you need me to sit up on that stand and claim it, as Evan’s doctor, I will.”

Fuck.

This was getting messy.

So damned messy.

Because all those lines were blurring and crossing and tangling.

A fresh round of tears streaked down her face. “Thank you, Kale, but I don’t know if I can ask you to get in the middle of this mess. It goes deeper than you know.” Grief and fear struck on her face. “When I told you my life was complicated, I meant it, but I refuse to regret a single choice I’ve made in my life that I’ve made to protect my son. No matter what it costs me”

“Maybe you should stop questioning the lengths I’d go to in order to protect the both of you.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” she whispered softly.

It was like a zap to the air.

Energy.

Need.

That tether of awareness cinching and cinching, pulling us closer until it felt like there was no space between us at all.

My fingers slipped into the silky strands of her hair.

I wanted to kiss her.

God, I wanted to kiss her so damned bad, and I knew if I did, there would be no going back.

I thought maybe she saw the hesitation in my eyes, because she cleared her throat and inched back to put some space between us.

“Let’s call it a night. The rest of these need to cool before they can be wrapped, and I need to get Evan into bed. He and I can finish them in the morning. I’ll drop them off to you so you don’t have to bother on Monday morning.”

I quirked a grin. “What, you don’t want to see me walking through your shop’s door on Monday morning. What if I’m having a terrible craving for A Drop of Hope?”

I let my voice twist with the tease, a distraction from the chaos staging a war in my spirit. The selfless war raging in her.

Heat rushed across her cheeks, and she peered at me, that vulnerable expression laying siege to her face.

Faith and belief.

The girl was so gorgeous that it was hard to look at her.

She let her fingertips roam the collar of my shirt, staring at the action before she met my gaze again.

Words a breathy confession. “Am I a fool to admit that the favorite part of my day is watching you walk through that door?”

“Think maybe both of us are guilty of that . . . being fools,” I told her, gentling my fingers through a long strand of her strawberry hair. Through the silky softness.

Relishing.

Wanting more.

Something darkened in her gaze, and I knew she was about to dive deeper than I was ready for her to go. That she was getting ready to ask me things I wasn’t ready to answer.

Because the girl could read me, too.

I edged back, hating being the asshole who shut her down after she’d just completely opened up to me. Trusted me.

But I wasn’t ready to bring the darkness that lived deep inside me out into her light.

“I should go,” I told her.

She nodded. “Okay. But please . . . let me bring the lollipops to you. It would make me feel better after everything you’ve done.”

For a moment, I just stared, blinking, assaulted by the urge to ask her to let me stay.

But I had to go. I knew it. I needed to get the hell out of there before I did something I couldn’t undo.

“All right then,” I told her, smiling slowly as I pushed to my feet.

I stretched my hand out for her, and she accepted it.

Need.

Just that small touch had need racing through my veins, careening and curving and compelling.

My jaw clenched, and I forced myself to let her hand go once she was standing.

Hope followed me down the hall. Her presence covering me all over. Skating my skin and spinning my head.

Intoxicating.

I tried to hold my breath because I swore this girl floated on the air.

So damned sweet.

I paused in the doorway to the living room, hesitated for a beat before I went for the couch.

Before she could stop me, before I could stop myself, I scooped the kid into my arms. He made a grumpy, grumbling sound as he looped his arms around my neck and snuggled closer.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kale.” More fidgeting from beside me, Hope anxious and restless.

“Let me help you get him to bed,” I managed, no longer able to see how the lines holding me back made any sense.

Resigned, she nodded, and I followed her when she headed through another arch and down a separate hall that led to the back of the house. We passed by one small room that was set up as an office, and she turned into the last door at the end of the hall.

I followed close behind, unable to stop myself from grinning when I saw his room.

Decorated in everything comics. From Marvel to Conan to the completely obscure.

It so utterly, completely fit this adorable kid that my heart was thumping again.

Mind spinning with impossibilities.

I laid him on his bed and stepped back so Hope could pull his covers over him. She pressed a kiss to his temple and then ran her fingers through his hair. Neither of us said anything as we tiptoed out of his room, back down the hall, and through the living room.

For a flash, my gaze darted to the far back of the living space. To the double doors I knew had to lead to Hope’s bedroom.

I wanted to take her there. Lay her out. Treat her right.

Lust curled my guts. Almost painfully. No question, Hope knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Hers right there with mine.

Desire a flood in the room. Rising so high that there was no doubt we were getting ready to drown.

Both of us going deeper and deeper into that territory where it was so abundantly clear we couldn’t go.

Fisting my hands in restraint, I forced my feet to move the rest of the way across the room, back through the foyer, and out the front door.

When I stepped out onto the porch, I inhaled the cool air that brushed my heated skin and prayed it might stand a chance of dousing the fire.

I pulled in a couple deep breaths, letting the sounds of the night calm my racing heart, the bugs trilling in the trees and the leaves that rustled in the light breeze.

I turned around when Hope came out behind me and quietly snapped the door shut behind her.

Moonlight poured down on her face. Milky skin a translucent glow.

“Thank you so much for helping out tonight,” she whispered, her arms crossed over her chest like she didn’t know how else to protect herself.

“No, Hope, thank you. For dinner. For taking the time to make all those lollipops. For letting me experience the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

For being you.

Her head shook, and her brow pinched. “I don’t know what to make of you, Kale Bryant.”

I let out the tiny huff of a laugh. “When I’m around you, I don’t know what to make of myself, either.” I smiled at her. “Good night, Harley Hope. Tell your little man I had the best time tonight. And you tell his mom that he’s lucky he has her, just as lucky as she is to have him.”

Her expression turned almost pleading.

Want and desire and that unbridled hope that radiated from her like it was a second skin.

It took everything I had to force myself to turn away and start across her porch. My footsteps echoing on the dense night.

She retreated, standing in the doorway. I could feel her staring back at me.

“Kale.” I heard it at the same time that intensity swept through the air.

A bolt of lightning.

Combustion.

I turned around just as the girl spun in the doorway, coming for me.

I was already moving back that direction.

We collided.

Fire.

I hoisted her up, and her legs wrapped around my waist as our mouths crashed together.

Her tongue swept against mine.

That sweet, sweet tongue.

Frantic.

Needy.

Desperate.

Laps and licks and frenzied strokes.

Winding a hand in her hair, I kissed her just as wildly as she was kissing me. Without breaking it, I carried her back across the porch and into the foyer. Held in the protective shadows of the short hall, I pressed her against the wall.

Ground my hard-on against her center, her skirt riding up, just her underwear and my jeans separating us.

Her pussy as hot as her fingers that sank into my shoulders.

As hot as her tongue that tangled with mine.

I had no idea how I was going to make it back from this. How I was ever going to stop craving it.

“Fuck, Hope. One touch, and you are already killing me. I want to disappear in you. Sink deep inside. Get lost in your body. Tell me you want that.”

God. What the fuck was I saying?

I rocked again.

Hope moaned. “Kale. Yes. Please.”

“What do you need?” I mumbled against her mouth, and she was mumbling back, “Make me feel good. You make me feel good. How is it possible you make me feel so good?”

“Because I know how to take care of you. You deserve a man who will treat you right.”

And I pressed myself harder against her, rubbing and rocking and driving her mad.

Which was the best kind of torture.

Complete, utter torture as she writhed and pitched and begged, the urgent thrust of her hips against my jeans and the delicious sounds from her mouth as she kissed and begged, bringing me to the edge.

That greedy, selfish place inside me roared, telling me it would be fine if I ripped open my fly and sank right in.

That she was right there.

I shoved the urge down and gave her what I knew she needed.

My hands moved to her hips, and I rode my palms up, cupping her ass so I could angle her just right.

Hitting her clit with each roll of my hips.

I was so hard I swore I was going to lose it right there.

Her nails cut into my shoulders and scratched at the back of my neck, and she whimpered, her back arching off the wall. “Kale, oh God . . . again.”

I dipped down and bit her tit through her dress.

Harley Hope caught fire.

Trembles rocked through her body, vibrating through me.

Her pleasure.

The sweet, sweet heat.

I could feel it radiating from her body and into mine. And I didn’t even care that I was in physical pain or that I was going to go home with the worst case of blue balls I’d ever endured.

Because watching her glow?

For a moment, the girl free and riding on ecstasy?

That was all that I needed.

She whimpered and moaned these tiny, perfect sounds, trying to keep quiet as she flew.

A stark reminder that we needed to hide.

That there was some pussy bitch out there who wanted to hurt them. Maybe not physically. But the kind of wounds he wanted to inflict cut just as deep.

I was right there to catch her when she came back down.

She was gasping tiny, uncontained breaths, her chest heaving from the wall as she struggled to find her control.

Swallowing hard, she stared at me through the shadows with a mix of awe and regret. “I lose myself when I’m with you. I am so sorry.”

I think I’m already lost.

I didn’t say it. I just peeled myself from her body and carefully set her on her feet. I touched her face. Softly. Hoping she got it. “For once in your life, Hope, I think it’s time someone took care of you.”

She set her hand over mine, pressing it tighter into her face. A blaze of affection smoldered in her eyes as she looked at me. “It feels good, Kale. You feel so good. You make me want things I know I shouldn’t ask you for.”

A smirk ticked up at the corner of my mouth. “I certainly hope it feels good. Wouldn’t want my knightly duties to be lacking, would we?”

The redness bloomed, the freckles across her cheeks sparking against her soft, soft skin.

I ran my thumb over her swollen lips. “And believe me, Hope. You have me wanting things I know I shouldn’t ask you for, either.”

I looked around the enclosed space, the house blanketed by the deep, deep night. “I don’t want to do anything that hurts you.”

And I didn’t even know what I was referring to. Putting her in a situation that might cause trouble with her ex or putting her in a situation where I bailed.

Because there I stood, tempted to tell her that her son terrified me but that I wanted to wrap him up and protect him anyway. Wanted to tell her I was terrified of failing again. That I might not be enough when I’d been struggling to be that man for all my life.

Instead, I backed away, still looking at her, my smile gentle. “Now go . . . sleep. Rest. You deserve it.”

She gulped around the emotion that rippled between us.

I shoved my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach out and take more and headed back out the door.

“Thank you, Kale,” she whispered, her soft voice riding on the night, hitting me from behind where she’d followed me out.

From the gate, I glanced back at her, at her silhouette on her porch.

The girl the best thing I’d ever seen.

“Good night, Princess,” I called quietly into the night.

Then I turned and forced myself to get in my car, start it up, and drive away.