The wine tasting room looked glorious. The giant spherical iron chandelier delineating the space cast a golden glow over the main bar on one end and the lounge area on the opposite side. Votive candles flickered on every surface from the barrel-topped tables and the bar to the mantel over the stone fireplace. The ambient lighting softened the modern-meets-old-world inspired architecture with its stone walls, glass, and steel wine shelving and contemporary fixtures. It lent an ethereal quality to the cavernous room that reminded me of a cathedral. Or a place of worship for wine lovers.

Tonight’s event was our yearly “Invitation only” party for loyal local customers. It was a casual tradition we’d started after we’d first opened the doors at Conrad Winery to thank the community for their support. We’d hosted dozens of wine and food pairing parties over the years. It was a fun way to promote local restaurants and artisans and raise money for charitable causes. The clinking of wineglasses and steady flow of conversation mixed with laughter were sure signs of another successful event.

Approximately one hundred guests milled about the tasting room, sampling foods paired with our best wines, while a pianist played American standards in the background. I leaned against the wall, tucked in a shadowy corner, and surveyed the elegantly-dressed crowd. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, I mused as I sipped my Pinot. Danny and Ryan handled the bar, and Lauren and a few interns poured wine at the stations. I spotted Wes and Nick holding court with a group of wine connoisseurs near the arched door. I’d done my requisite round of hellos but if I didn’t get back out there soon, someone would come looking for me.

“What are you waiting for, Geordie bird?” Mike’s ghost whispered in my ear.

I didn’t bother to look for him. I’d stopped doing that a year after he’d passed away. But I loved that I could hear him so clearly. I loved that he stayed with me. I smiled and let out a soft sigh.

“I can’t decide what to sing. The Sound of Music is always a winner, but perhaps I should try—”

“Grease,” Levi suggested out of the fucking blue. He chuckled when I jumped, and then he handed me a napkin to clean the burgundy liquid that sloshed over the rim of my wineglass.

“Where the hell did you come from? And why are you always sneaking up on me?” I asked irritably as I wrapped the napkin around the stem of my glass.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You asked for a music suggestion, and I gave you one.”

“I wasn’t asking your opinion,” I huffed without heat. “I was talking to myself.”

“Again?”

“I’m always talking to myself.”

I lifted my glass to my lips to hide my involuntary hum of approval. Damn, he cleaned up nicely. His slicked-back hair and close-shaven hint of a beard went well with his white oxford button-down shirt, houndstooth blazer, and snug designer jeans. And holy hell…cowboy boots.

“People are gonna think you’re weird if you keep that up,” he singsonged playfully.

“I hope so. Weird is the ultimate badge of honor.” I raised my glass in a mock toast then gave him a lascivious once-over that was too flirty to be taken seriously. “You look very handsome. I wouldn’t think to pair a sophisticated jacket with ranch chic and yet, somehow you’ve made it work.”

Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a slow-growing grin. The latent sensuality in the lazy upturn of his full lips fascinated me. Or maybe it was the cowboy boots.

“Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime. I should go.” I shoved my glass into his free hand then flung my yellow scarf over my shoulder and pinched my cheeks to add a touch of natural color before bowing theatrically. “Adieu. My audience awaits.”

“Hang on.” He stepped in front of me before I could escape. “I want to talk to you for a second.”

The billowy sleeves of my black tunic fluttered as I motioned for him to hurry. “What is it?”

“I didn’t have a chance to thank you for helping me out today. The stuffed jalapeños were a hit. And they went well with the wine.”

“You’re welcome. I know my peppers, and I know my Pinot. You were smart to print out a sample menu for La Vid. The font was all wrong, but it was still a nice touch,” I enthused. “Now excuse me while I—”

Levi grabbed my elbow to stop me. “La Vid?”

“It’s just a suggestion, of course, but I think a touch of Spanish flair would be well-received. Every other business in this town has the word vine or wine in it. La Vid would stand out. Think about it.”

“I will. What was wrong with the font?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

I grabbed my drink from his hand and took a small sip. “You used Helvetica, Levi. That’s almost as boring as Times New Roman.”

It didn’t seem possible, but his forehead creased a little more as his frown deepened. “At no point in my life did I ever think I’d ask this question at a party but…what font would you suggest?”

“Andale or Century Gothic. Or better yet, Monaco,” I replied without hesitation. “Something classy yet understated and sophisticated. That’s what you’re going for with your restaurant, correct?”

“Yes. Exactly. Wes told me you’re responsible for the overall aesthetic at Conrad Winery. Are you a budding designer on top of being a cabaret singer?”

I grinned at his teasing tone. “Yes and no. I have zero training in either endeavor, but I’m pretty damn good at both if I do say so myself.”

“And modest too,” he quipped.

“Modesty will get you nowhere. If you want something, you’d better speak up before someone else swoops in.”

“Agreed. I want something.” Levi inched closer, seeming suddenly larger than life. His shoulders were broader, and his expression was more intense.

“What do you want?”

“I want to hire you.”

“Hire me?” I repeated. I licked my lips then lowered my gaze to keep from staring at him. I didn’t like what he did to me.

“Yes. Now probably isn’t the best time to talk but if you’re free next weekend, I—”

“Now is fine,” I intercepted, nodding absently when a guest waved at me.

“No, you’re working now, and I’m going to need your full attention when I try to convince you that you’re the man I need.”

Fuck, that sounded dirty. No, wait. It didn’t. I was doing that pervy thing again. I couldn’t spend five minutes in Levi’s company without my head going places it shouldn’t.

“I’m flattered, but I have a job.” I fingered the fringe on my scarf and took another sip.

“This would be more of a consultation gig. I could use an expert opinion on things like…font. Wes said you might be interested in taking on a project and—”

“Dammit!” I stomped my foot and shot an irritated glare in Wes’s direction. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Is nothing sacred anymore? What else did he say?”

Levi shrugged with faux nonchalance. “Honestly, not much. But I figured you were sizing me up today to get a feel for my business acumen.”

“And surely you were doing the same to me.” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes. “I’m going to kill Wes.”

Levi snickered. “Oh, come on. It’s better to be one hundred percent transparent, so I’m gonna just put everything on the table. I’m in over my head.”

“You certainly are. And that’s before attempting to take me on,” I scoffed. “Look, I told Wes I’d be neighborly and perhaps see if there was a fit between your fledgling business venture and ours. The truth is, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re doing. You’re charming and gregarious, and perhaps your magic cookbooks hold the key to your success. But you’re missing details that are crucial to starting a customer service enterprise.”

“Like a chef?” he asked facetiously.

“Yes. That’s a concern.” I tilted my chin and gave him a thorough once-over. “Your runaway chef really screwed you over, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, and I’m in sink or swim mode now. I need to go to LA tomorrow, but let me buy you dinner. Are you free next Saturday?”

“I don’t think—”

“Geordie! Thank you for the lovely evening. It’s been a delight!” An older woman with snow-white hair and bright red lips set her hand on my wrist and beamed at me. “We’re just about to head home unless you have another song for us.”

“I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed yourselves, Darlene.” I returned her smile with an even brighter one and nodded to her husband, who was engaged in conversation a few feet away. “You’ve caught me mid-contemplation. I can’t decide what my final number should be. Do you have a request?”

“Anything, Geordie, dear. I’ll tell Howard not to pull the car around just yet.” She patted my hand and turned to Levi. “He’s wonderful. Have you heard our Geordie sing?”

“Yes. He’s a legend,” Levi agreed politely.

“He is indeed. Napa’s very own!”

I held my grin until Darlene moved on; then I tipped back the last of my Pinot and handed the empty wineglass to Levi. “I must go. We can talk later.”

“Break a leg.”

“Thanks.” I started to move toward the piano when he called my name. “What is it?”

“Happy Days Are Here Again.” He chuckled at my blank stare and waited for a boisterous guest to pass before closing the distance. “Barbra’s first song. I looked it up and…it fits.”

My smile was automatic and so wide, it hurt my cheeks. I had a soft spot for clever people, musicals, and of course, Barbra. I slipped his half-full glass from his fingers and swirled the contents lazily. The briefest brush of his skin sent shivers up my spine. I didn’t think I’d had too much wine, but something was making me feel dizzy.

“You Googled Barbra?” I asked.

“Yeah, I did.”

We shared a look I wanted to classify as “friendly,” but it wasn’t. It was flirty and sweet and laced with a mutual awareness that should have freaked me out. No one had looked at me like that in a while, and I liked it. A lot. I pushed his glass into his hand without taking a drink and stepped backward.

“Then Barbra it is.”

I winked then pivoted on my heels with my arms spread wide and belted out the first few lines of Levi’s requested song. The pianist stopped in the middle of whatever he was playing and quickly adjusted to accompany my snappier version of the classic. I rested my hand on the shiny black baby grand and sang in a loud, clear voice then signaled for everyone to join in. I snapped my fingers as I scanned the crowded room of cheery-looking faces. Out of habit, my gaze drifted to the corner of the bar near the picture window where Mike would stand watching me with an adoring smile on nights like this. He wasn’t there but I didn’t panic, and I didn’t falter. I glanced the other way and paused when I spotted Levi.

And I couldn’t look away.

After a few more requests, I called Wes to join me to thank our guests for making the evening a success. A boisterous sing-along followed by a pleasant speech and parting toast provided a fitting end to the night. Wes and I had these events down to a science. We played to each other’s strengths. He was the name and face behind Conrad Winery, and I was the spirit. And I took my forty-nine percent ownership very seriously. Wes ran and operated our multi-million-dollar enterprise, but I made an effort to pull my weight. I was responsible for the tasting room and all events hosted on the winery property. Over the last decade or so, I’d become pretty damn good at it—if I did say so myself.

I placed a pile of discarded plates on one of the buffet tables and barked a series of orders to my staff. The faster we tidied up, the sooner we could all go home. I glanced at my watch before surveying the damage. It was almost midnight. There were a few stragglers waiting for a cab near the entrance. Their inebriated laughter boomed in the otherwise quiet space. If it was a balmy night, I would have found a way to coerce them outside, but the temperature had dropped to arctic levels. I didn’t want to go outside either.

“Danny, get your hands off Ryan’s ass and get to work. You too, Wes. It’s been a long day and I want my bed,” I groused.

“I don’t have my hands on Ryan’s ass,” Wes retorted like a true smartass. He squeezed Nick’s butt and winked at me.

“Ha. Ha. Let’s get to work, funny guy. I’m tired. I need sleep.”

“Nah, what you really need is to get laid,” Nick said when Wes released him to pick up a napkin on the floor.

Suddenly all eyes were on me, and that was a million times worse than fielding Nick’s statement. We all knew Nick had a faulty filter. He was a cyber genius with an off-the-chart IQ who owned a well-respected tech firm with his best friend from college. However, crazy smart people weren’t always the most tactful. At least Nick wasn’t. He had a talent for blurting out what everyone else was thinking. Also known as stating the obvious.

“Nick.” Wes straightened and gave his boyfriend a sharp look then angled his head toward our guests loitering in the alcove leading to the entrance.

Nick perched on a barstool and rolled his eyes at Wes. “They can’t hear me. They’re too tipsy to follow their own conversations. I doubt they’re eavesdropping on ours. And I’m not saying anything we don’t know.”

“Oh? Which part? The Humphries and their friends are wasted, or Geordie needs dick?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

“The dick part,” he replied. He shrugged when Wes gave him another pointed look. “Hey, sex is an important part of life.”

“Hmph.” Nick might have been correct, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to joke about my nonexistent sex life. I glanced at the debris of used wineglasses, plates, and half-empty bottles around the room and grimaced. “Just look at this mess.”

Wes set his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s leave it tonight. It’s been a long day, and this is a job for the cleaning crew. We can straighten up in the morning before we open. What do you say?”

“We still have guests, Wesley. I can’t go anywhere until they leave, but you and Nick should head home. I’ll get a ride with Danny and Ryan.”

“No. We’ll wait,” Wes said, massaging Nick’s shoulders.

Nick moaned. “Fine. If we’re all staying, let’s at least make it fun. Turn the music back on.”

“Absolutely not. They’ll never leave,” I reminded him.

“Okay. How about a game? Charades, Truth or Dare?” Nick suggested.

“Or we could have a good, old-fashioned gossip session.” Lauren’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Has anyone else noticed how sexy our neighbor is? I’m suddenly very excited to have a new restaurant in town.”

I let out a beleaguered sigh and tidied while my friends engaged in light banter about what kinds of food they hoped were on the menu. Truffle fries, sweet potato fries, brussel sprout chips, Levi…

I reached for a handful of plates sitting on the piano bench just as the front door opened. And there he was.

Or maybe he’d never left. Maybe he’d been standing at the door all this time and overheard the “Geordie needs dick” commentary. Maybe he knew my head automatically went back to our shoe-size conversation earlier that afternoon. Maybe he knew I’d spent the last two hours alternately thinking about font styles to show him then berating myself for daydreaming about him like an adolescent. God, I was an idiot.

Yes, Levi was kind and sexy and thoughtful…but I wasn’t a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl with a sudden crush. I was a grown man in mourning. I should have been ashamed of myself for being so aware of him all evening. I knew where he was and whom he talked to. And yes, I also knew that sounded creepy as hell. I couldn’t explain it, so I hoped no one noticed the way my gaze drifted to him time and again, tracking him like a private detective trailing a dangerous suspect. I felt compelled to know he was close by, but I didn’t want his attention. Other than our brief conversation at the party, we hadn’t talked much. Fine by me. I would have wanted to grill him about his Google session with Barbra, but my diva adoration was personal to me. And Levi wasn’t personal. He was business.

When he’d walked out of the tasting room at ten forty-five p.m. with a gaggle of guests, I’d breathed a sigh of relief, taken a sip of wine, and counted down the minutes until we’d closed the door literally and figuratively on the evening. So what the hell was he doing back here, messing with my juju?

Levi held the door open for the Humphries and gestured toward the parking lot meaningfully before striding through the grand foyer. He stopped under the stone archway to adjust the burden under his arm; then he strolled toward me with a cocky grin and just the right amount of swagger. I hoped Wes would intercept him, but I didn’t dare turn around to see if he was on his way over. My face felt flushed, and I wasn’t sure I could count on my olive skin to hide any excess pink on my cheeks from my friends. They knew me too well. Levi wouldn’t notice.

“Hey, your face is red. You okay?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

I narrowed my gaze and nodded. “I’m fine. What are you doing here? The party is over, darling.”

“Right.” He pulled four cooking trays from under his arm then held them out like a gift with a sheepish look that was all kinds of endearing. “These accidentally got loaded into my truck earlier. I didn’t realize I’d driven away with them until I got home.”

“Well, thank you. You didn’t have to bring them back tonight, though. We have other cookie sheets,” I said with a half laugh.

“I’m leaving for LA in the morning, and I didn’t want to take what wasn’t mine. Where do you want these?” he asked, tucking the trays under his arm again.

“Um. Wes can take them to the house,” I replied distractedly, waving my hand toward the activity behind me as I stepped backward. “Just set them on one of the high tables. Have a nice trip to La La Land. Goodnight, Levi.”

My graceful exit backfired when I ran into Wes. I stumbled and might have fallen on my ass if Levi hadn’t grabbed my elbow and pulled me to his side with his free hand.

“Hey, Wes. I’m just dropping these off.” Levi pushed the trays into Wes’s arms. “Great party, by the way. Thanks for the invite.”

“You’re welcome, but the party was all Geordie. He’s a master entertainer,” Wes gushed.

“I bet. But I wouldn’t have known if it was up to him.” Levi let out a put-upon sigh that contrasted with the devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Geordie wouldn’t have invited me.”

“Of course, he would have,” Wes insisted.

“Nope. He thinks I’m a hopeless case. I cry when I chop onions, and I can’t handle spicy food,” Levi singsonged.

“All true,” I agreed with a half chuckle. I had no idea where he was going with this, but I figured I’d play along. “I’m happy you attended, though. It would have been awkward if you hadn’t after I made your appetizer.”

“Except it wasn’t really my appetizer,” he said, raising his brow. “Let me clarify. It wasn’t my recipe.”

I snickered at his comical expression. He looked like Inspector Clouseau. “Oh? Whose was it?”

Levi furrowed his brow. “Yours.”

“Really?” I examined the clear coat of nail polish on my left hand then set both hands on my hips and flashed a reluctant grin. “How could you tell?”

“I watched you this afternoon. You never once looked at that recipe,” he commented, folding his arms over his chest. “You passed your pickled peppers off as mine and avoided me all night until every last one was gone.”

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing outright. “They were not pickled peppers, but…say it again.”

Levi smirked. “Say what again?”

“The part about the peppers.”

“You passed your pickled peppers…how is that funny?” he asked when I burst into laughter. He repeated the silly phrase three more times and grinned like a fool when I snorted merrily.

Wes shook his head and stepped away. “Uh. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m going home. Ready Geordie?”

“You go on. I’ll have Ryan and Danny drop me off,” I said.

“They just left and—”

“I’ll take you home,” Levi intercepted, stuffing his hands into his suit coat pockets.

His self-deprecating humor and boyish charm made it difficult to refuse his offer. Besides, it was a two-minute drive. Perfectly harmless.

I held his gaze for a moment then nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

Ten minutes later, I followed Levi to a black Tahoe in the deserted parking lot. I hugged my arms across my chest and shivered in my wool coat. It was freezing outside and only marginally warmer in the truck. Levi blasted the heat the second he turned on the engine.

“Where do you live, Geord?”

“Take a right at that cypress tr-tree,” I instructed. Fuck, it was so cold I could see my breath.

“There’s no road. Do you live in a tree house?” he joked as he lowered the volume of the classic rock ballad on the radio.

“You’re hysterical, but I’m in danger of turning into a popsicle. Let’s go, Mr. Yeager.”

“Mr. Yeager,” he repeated with a laugh. “That reminds me of my teaching days. Or my dad.”

“I thought you coached. Don’t sports people keep it casual? Nicknames, fist bumps, and slaps on the rear? I’m all for that booty smack, but you can have the rest,” I said, melting into the leather interior with a sigh when the seat heater permeated through my clothing.

“Hmm. So you’re saying you like getting smacked on the ass?”

“After a certain age, don’t we all?” I countered.

“Not my kink.”

“You’re missing out. By the way, it’s okay to drive faster. You won’t get a ticket for going over ten miles per hour.”

“I was hoping to soak in as much of your sunny personality as possible before I head to LA,” Levi retorted with a laugh. “I’ve reached the tree. Now what?”

“Turn right. Then make your first left after Wes and Nick’s house. Mine is just over the next hill.”

“Got it.”

The lower timbre of Levi’s voice sounded sexier than it should have. I stole a sideways glance, noting his strong jaw, straight nose, and casual grip on the steering wheel. He exuded a masculine, confident air I found incredibly appealing. I frowned as I shifted in my seat to stare out the window. The vineyards were cloaked in shadow. It looked spooky and desolate in a wintry way. For a moment, I was pathetically glad not to be alone. We were on a tiny ribbon of road in the middle of nowhere with no streetlamps or moonlight to brighten the sky. Most days I loved the solitude, but sometimes it was lonely as fuck.

“So…are you doing anything fun in the City of Angels?” I asked conversationally.

“Nope. I’m moving some things into storage, and I have meetings with a few potential chef candidates.”

“Ah. That’s a step in the right direction. But how will you know who to choose? You’re a sports…person,” I said, tapping the window to indicate that he should turn. I waved to indicate the terminology was unimportant before continuing. “I’m sure you’re a very smart man, but you don’t have any experience running a professional kitchen. Are you confident this person has the requirements you need?”

Levi huffed. “I think what you’re really saying is, ‘Dude, I’ve got a bad feeling you’ll hire a novice fry cook whose only previous experience was working the graveyard shift at McDonald’s.’ Am I right?”

“Close enough,” I admitted, inclining my head.

“Hmph. My…friend’s sister is a chef at a fancy LA bistro. Originally, she was my ace in the hole. Erin was going to relocate here and take over the kitchen with Kev. She has clout, experience, a ton of energy, and best of all, she’s bilingual. But when Kevin pulled out, she did too.”

“Who’s Kevin, and why did he abandon you?”

“He’s my ex.”

“Oh.”

Levi cast an amused sideways glance my way before turning into my drive, but he didn’t speak again until my house came into view.

“Wow. Your house looks like a something out of a fairy tale.”

“Thank you.” I glanced at the quaint, ivy-covered stone cottage at the end of the circular driveway and nodded. “I love it.”

He turned onto the gravel drive and then stopped near the neatly trimmed hedge leading to the front door. He put the SUV in park then swiveled sideways in his seat. “I like the lantern over the door. Nice touch.”

I pulled my manbag onto my knee and dug around for my keys. Then I looked over at him, intending to thank him for the ride and the compliment. Instead I opened my big mouth and said, “So you’re gay?”

I noted the spark of humor in his eyes as he nodded in acquiescence.

“Yeah. I kind of thought you knew I was flirting with you.” Levi chuckled at my incredulous expression. “I’m obviously out of practice.”

“Well…don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t flirt with me. Not if you mean it anyway,” I amended in a flustered tone. “Flirting for fun is fabulous but…not for real.”

Levi cocked his head curiously. “You like tongue twisters.”

I paused with my hand on the door and furrowed my brow. “Excuse me?”

“No. There’s another term for it. Alliteration.” He snapped his fingers and grinned like a fool. “You like sentences packed with words that start with the same letter. Not always but often enough. I bet you like poetry. Were you an English major?”

“You’re flirting again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. Are you a literature buff?” he prodded.

I fumbled absently with my keys and nodded. “Yes. I never went to college, but I love to read. Especially classics and—”

“There’s a psychology behind alliterations,” he said earnestly just as I was about to open the door. “Speech patterns capture attention and set moods. Hs and Es are soothing, but I’m not sure about Fs. Too many in a row seem harsh.”

I chuckled. “Whatever inspired you to memorize a Wikipedia entry on language?”

“You.”

I narrowed my gaze and studied his handsome profile in the truck’s darkened interior. “You’re still flirting.”

“Yeah. My game is coming back. If I keep talking and you keep listening, you’ll eventually warm up to me. Where was I?”

“The psychology of alliteration,” I deadpanned.

“Right. Your tone is imperial, you use alliteration like a poet, and you dress like a diva. You’re pleasant to strangers, but you hold them at bay. You’re kind but controlled. Most likely you were an elite member of a royal family in a former life.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, amused in spite of myself. “Since you have me figured out, let me see if I can do the same.”

“Be my guest.” Levi made a sweeping motion with his left arm before resting it on the steering wheel. The casual gesture was ripe with potent masculinity. And I hated that I noticed.

I tore my gaze from his stubbled jaw and cleared my throat. “You’re a newly out sports enthusiast at a crossroads.”

“Sports enthusiast at a crossroads,” he repeated with a laugh. “I guess that’s better than has-been athlete looking for a new gig.”

“As you said, I do have a way with words, and I’m a firm believer it’s crucial to accentuate the positives.” I set my hand over his without thinking then pulled back when a familiar spark of awareness skittered along my spine.

Levi smirked. “You’re weird. I like you.” 

“Thanks. I like you too. Platonically of course,” I added.

“Of course. What exactly is my crossroads?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps you quit your job to try a new venture with this lover who dumped you, and now you’re heading to LA to woo him back—”

“Not a chance,” he snapped.

I raised a brow at his vehemence. “Or…you’re going on a fact-finding mission to salvage what you can of your original idea and determine what comes next.”

Levi nodded. “Closer.”

“Have you thought about selling the diner?”

“Yes. But I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

“I have nothing to lose. And you know what? It’s kinda liberating. No net required ’cause I’m already free-falling. Have you ever felt that way before, Geord?”

Every fucking day.

Silence fell like a blanket between us. Soft and warm and safe. I didn’t want to break the quiet, but I couldn’t allow myself to be pulled under either.

I licked my lips and whispered, “Yes.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t look away. Maybe I was a sucker for ruggedly handsome men who weren’t ashamed to reveal their vulnerable sides. I admired that he made free-falling sound like an adventure. I’d been doing it for nearly four years, and my outlook was nothing like Levi’s. I worked my ass off to make sure no one knew how tired and raw and afraid I felt every damn day. I clung to the best parts of my past like a lifeline, hoping my ghosts would ease the inevitable “splat on the concrete” nose dive I had coming my way.

Levi’s story was certainly different, but I recognized something in him I knew too well. A desperate spirit that wasn’t quite ready to give up. I’d like to think that sense of acknowledgment was why I leaned across the console, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips against his.

Levi went perfectly still for a moment; then he tilted his head slightly and molded his lips to mine. I could feel his breath and the scratch of his beard as I sank into the connection. Fuck, it was exhilarating. I’d forgotten how much I loved kissing a man. And when he cupped my chin gently and licked the corner of my mouth in a silent request for entry, I nearly wept at the sweetness.

He glided his tongue alongside mine, slowly and with care. He gauged my response before deepening the kiss…licking, sucking. Then he pulled back to nibble my bottom lip before doing it all over again. When he threaded his fingers through my hair, my pulse raced. I practically climbed across the truck to get closer to him, kissing his lips, jaw and the curve of his neck and then sliding my hand around Mike’s neck and—

I froze.

And then I freaked the fuck out.

I pushed away abruptly and swiped the back of my hand over my mouth.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I choked. “I-I…thanks for the ride. I—”

“Geordie, stop. Hey, it’s okay. Don’t get scared. It’s okay. You’re home and you’re safe, and nothing is wrong.”

Tears pooled in my eyes and fell unchecked onto my cheeks. I gasped in a combination of horror and pain and mortification. “I know, I know. I’m just…I’m gonna go. Good-bye, Levi.”

He jumped out of the truck and raced to the passenger side, gallantly bending to pick up the keys I dropped on the gravel. I couldn’t trust my voice, so I didn’t bother arguing when he walked me to my front door. I held out my hand and nodded my thanks when he set the keys on my palm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said in a stronger voice. “I’m tired but I’m okay. I promise.”

“Will you do me a favor and text me when you’re inside? Just let me know you’re in one piece. Got it?”

“Got it.” I gave him a weak half smile and didn’t flinch when he leaned in to press a kiss on my temple.

“Goodnight, Geord.”

I watched Levi move to his truck before unlocking my door and stepping inside. I reset the alarm out of habit and then flattened my back to the wall and slid to a crouching position. I willed myself to breathe evenly and tried to find my voice as I fixated on a long shadow against the hardwood floor. The light was on in the kitchen. I hated coming home to a dark house. I always had.

Every night I’d call out my usual, “Honey, I’m home” the way I had for fourteen years. Mike hadn’t been here for almost four of those years, but I greeted him anyway. I supposed it was like having coffee with him in the garden outside the wine tasting room. I couldn’t explain it to anyone without sounding crazy but I knew he was there, watching over me. Talking to him kept him alive and made me less…dead.

But I might have tipped the balance tonight and ruined everything. I opened my mouth and closed it immediately when a sob escaped. I bit my hand to keep the sound inside before trying again.

“I’m home,” I whispered. “I’m home. Are you here?”

Tears clouded my vision as a powerful silence surrounded me, taunting me with a daily reminder of the difference between quiet and emptiness. I swallowed around the lump in my throat then inhaled deeply and just as I released my breath, I fell apart.

I covered my face with my hands and wept. And wept. My chest heaved, and my body shook as grief ripped through me, tearing me open and leaving me wrecked and raw and infinitely fragile. I sat in a crumbled mess on the floor in my foyer and cried until there was nothing left.

Until I was empty and hollow…inside and out.