I stare up at the ceiling, my body still tingling with the aftershocks of my orgasm.

“Oh my god, Jackson. That lube is going to make us a fortune.”

Jackson traces a circle on the skin of my hip and I lean into his touch. Somehow, even after, I can’t get close enough to him. He’s the drug your friends warned you against trying even once. Just a taste and you’re hooked. It’s the reason I stayed away in high school, the reason I ran away after that broken kiss. And yet, here I am, practically purring.

“So we did good?” Jackson smiles. His touch sends tiny shivers down my spine.

“Mmm,” I agree. “I approve. Except now I need a shower.”

“Sure.” He plants a kiss on my mouth before I go.

Under the hot water of the shower I touch my lips, still tender from being so very well kissed, and try to collect my thoughts. Today’s been…everything…and my body’s still humming in that sex-satisfied way, making everything seem like a dream. But we really, truly have a plan for launching Penchant lube. And I couldn’t be more proud.

When I step out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around my body, Jackson’s waiting for me in the living room.

He smiles, taking in my damp hair and naked skin. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

I make a face. “Nice line, Jackson.”

“It’s worked before,” he says simply.

Jackson and his past, always cropping up to ruin a good moment. “I don’t want to hear about it.” Would things be different if he could exist outside my memories? If I had met him now and didn’t know him then? His history is marked on every building in this town. It’s behind my eyelids if I close my eyes too tight.

“That came out wrong.” The crease between his eyes darkens for a moment. “According to legend, my dad used that line on my mom before their first date and she knew then that she’d always love him.”

“Oh.” I take a deep breath. Suddenly this is way too deep, too much. I need to say something to lighten the mood. “Do you remember that time he got stuck in the window breaking into your house?”

The whole family had been at Wirth & Sons to decorate the store for Memorial Day, and when we got back to their house Mr. Wirth realized we’d gotten locked out. Rather than wait for me to locate a key in my house next door, he decided to take matters into his own hands and crawl in the family room window. It hadn’t ended well.

“Push harder!” Jackson mimics now, and I remember how Jackson and Conor had each grabbed a leg to help their stuck dad before realizing Mr. Wirth just wasn’t going to move any other way than back down. “God, I wish I had a camera on me when we pulled him out.”

“His face was priceless,” I agree. We both smile at the memory. “I actually used that story in a writing class.” I move one of Gayle’s twenty-three throw pillows so I can sit next to Jackson on the sofa. “Although I don’t even know where that writing is anymore.”

“What about current stuff? I want to read your stories.”

I freeze. How does he know I’m writing again?

Jackson nods his head toward the front door. “That’s your notebook, right?” The blue cover of it peeks out of my purse, which I must have dropped in the middle of, um, everything.

The words inside that blue notebook aren’t fiction at all, just a growing capture of this lube journey. After Jackson leaves I’ll fill the book with memories of today—Honey’s smile, the flogging. Seeing Matthew outside a sex shop. It’s been the longest day, but with Jackson here on my couch it feels fresh again.

“Maybe one day,” I tell him. “But you probably won’t like it anyway.”

Jackson wraps a strong arm around me and pulls me into his lap. “If that marketing text was any indication…Jesus.”

I flush with pride but I still demur. “I had extra inspiration today.”

Jackson shakes his head at me. “I’m serious, Nat. Anyway, what matters to me isn’t if your writing is good or not. It’s that it’s yours. I know writing is important to you, so it’s important to me, too.” He doesn’t care that I’ve had a million rejection letters, that everyone else thinks I’m a fraud. He cares, and somehow that’s all I need.

Something inside me loosens and this heat rushes over me as we sit on the couch in the darkened guesthouse, my head tucked under Jackson’s chin. I blink my eyes hard, trying not to cry, because I realize that out of all the stupid things I could have done, I’ve finally done the worst. I’ve fallen in love with Jackson Wirth. Again.