The navigation directions end with the pavement but there's a hand written sign tacked to a post with my name on it and an arrow indicating that I'm supposed to keep going on the narrow, gravel road.

Or maybe it's a driveway? If it is, then it's a long one.

My brain screams in protest, just as it has for the last 3 and a half hours, telling me to turn around and forever deny that I even entertained the notion of coming up here, let alone made it this far.

The rest of me turns the wheel and aims the car up the long driveway.

It is long, but the farther I go the more I'm convinced it's a driveway. There are thick wooden posts along the way that have solar lanterns made out of mason jars hanging off them. Too bad it's still too early for them to be lit up, I bet it's really pretty at night.

The driveway winds up a hill and eventually ends in a wide clearing in front of a small A-frame style cabin.

As I pull slowly to a stop in front of the raised deck, I'm not sure who's more surprised that I'm here, me or the man standing on the ladder leaning against the roof.

There are strings of white fairy lights draped over the steep roof and trailing down both sides. More string lights are hanging from the peak of the roof to the light posts at the top of the deck steps. Even more are wrapped around the rails of the deck.

And at the moment, despite the fact that it's 7 pm on a summer evening and there's still plenty of light, every single one of the lights is twinkling a faint warm white glow in the evening sun.

Again, I bet it looks beautiful after sunset. Like a fairy tale wedding or something.

Which brings my attention back to the man on the ladder. He has a string of the lights in his hands and he's staring at me with a combination of surprise and what looks like it might be terror.

I put the car in park and kill the engine, not entirely sure I want to get out yet. Part of my brain is still screaming at me, insisting there's still time to turn around and make a break for it, but most of my brain knows it's too late. I'm here and seeing Christopher for the first time in weeks does something to me that I'm not entirely comfortable with, but that I'm also not entirely surprised by.

So I sit in the car and stare at him staring at me through the windshield for a long moment while I will my pulse to stop racing.

He's standing on a ladder that's leaned against the steep angle of the roof and when he heard my car drive up it looked like it was a good thing the ladder is up against the roof or he might have fallen off.

I forgot how handsome he is. My heart does a little two step at the sight of him. He doesn't look like he's expecting me at all and the thought crosses my mind suddenly that maybe it wasn't him that put the card on my windshield.

Shit. What if it was Lori? Trying to trick us into getting back together? Or Marina? Or hell! For all I know it could have been Raven's idea. Maybe they're all in it together? Both our teams and our match maker trying to figure out how to get us alone together in a situation that forces us to work out our differences?

I look down at the steering wheel in front of me.

I could start this car back up and drive away without even getting out long enough to acknowledge him.

That's why I open the door and step out onto the gravel parking area.

I can leave whenever I want. There's no reason not to get out and talk to him at this point.

The gravel gives way under the heel of my shoes and I have to be careful and watch where I step in the fading light as I tentatively make my way to the steps and up to the deck. So I don't see him descend the ladder and almost, but not quite, meet me at the top of the steps.

"I wasn't expecting you yet."

His voice startles me. I wasn't expecting it to be so close when I got to the patio and I catch the narrow heel of my shoe between two of the boards. My ankle twists to the side and I lose my balance, my arms flailing as I start to go down.

Everything moves in slow motion and I have time to prepare myself for the inevitable injuries to both my body and my pride when I hit the redwood deck.

Funny how that works in a moment like this. I know I'm going to hit ass first, I'll end up with several bruises and probably some splinters since the deck looks like it's seen more than one harsh winter since it got it's last coat of weatherproofing.

Not to mention the blow ego is going to take, falling on my ass in front of this jackass.

I also have time to remember why I stopped talking to the man who's suddenly standing way too close to me. I remember the smell of his cologne, mixed with whatever laundry soap he uses, and the way his chest is firm pressed against mine and how strong his arms are--

Then I realize it's not a memory.

Chris caught me before I fell.

That's really his cologne invading my lungs and that's really his chest like a wall for me to lean against and his arms really are wrapped around me, holding me tightly. Tighter than is absolutely necessary, really.

"I got you."

The voice comes from above my head and I realize I'm clinging to him, my hands clutching his biceps and my eyes staring at the space where the buttons of his flannel shirt are undone, revealing just a glimpse of the dark hair that's smattered lightly across his pecs.

I force myself to look up at him. Anything to stop staring at his chest.

Looking up is a bad idea. I forgot how blue his eyes are and now they're looking out of the dark lashes framing them, focused on me with genuine concern and something else. Something that makes my already racing heart speed up. I feel my throat get tight and damn if my body doesn't go hot and wet as I stare back into those eyes.

He's so close to me. It would take so little effort to kiss him.

For a moment that seems to stand still around us, I think he's thinking the same thing. I think he's going to kiss me and I feel my skin tighten in anticipation.

My hands fly off his upper arms where they've been clinging to the flannel sleeves that are rolled up above his elbows and my palms land flat against his chest.

Despite coming to my senses, it's still hard to push him away from me. Maybe because he's built like a damn brick wall and it's hard to make him move if he decides he doesn't want to, but maybe a little because he feels so damn good under my hands and I might not want to push him away as much as I know I need to.

"Hang on a damn minute!" He orders as I try to step back.

I start to tell him to fuck off, intending to remind him that he's not in charge of me, but the words catch in my throat as he moves with me, catching me up in the arms that never let go of me and pulling me against his chest in a quick motion that takes my breath away.

My foot refuses to budge for a second and then I'm in the air.

"What the--? Put me down, dammit!"

My feet dangle over his arm as we spin in a slow arc and I realize one foot is much colder than the other.

"I told you to hang on," he grumbles as he sets me back on my feet.

The heel of my shoe is still firmly wedged between the boards of the deck. I feel the rough deck boards under my stockinged foot as Chris manages to keep his hold on me till I've regained my balance with only one shoe on.

"Oh." I feel kinda silly for yelling at him now that I realize what just happened. "It's stuck." The heel of my shoe refuses to budge from the deck.

"Here," Chris bends down, waving my foot away from the shoe and grabbing it by the back.

"There you go," he actually looks proud of himself as he hands me my mangled pump.

"Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?" I hold it in my hand and frown at the place where the leather has been completely scraped away from the heel.

It's a sign. I shouldn't have come out here.