“What do you want, Steven?” My voice leaves my throat gruffly and I stare down the stranger on my front porch. I swear that man was sitting at the cafe just minutes ago. The feeling of being followed burns inside, filling me with unease and putting me on the defensive. My hands are full—the flowers and coffee are precariously balanced on top of the large box of donuts, but I’m not afraid to toss it all aside and beat the shit out of this creep if I have to.

Chill, I tell myself. I can’t be certain this guy is up to no good. Not yet at least. He turns around, pushing sandy blonde hair out of his face. He eyes me up and down and a stupid grin plays on his face, one that’s hard to read.

“You,” he confesses and then laughs. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so forward. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself to you at the release party last night.”

I take another step closer, coming up to my front door. Thank God I locked it. And turned on the alarm. Ana is asleep and vulnerable up there.

And naked.

Fuck, I want to go back to her. This guy is really irritating the shit out of me for showing up unannounced, especially if this has to do with work. It’s the fucking weekend.

“The release party?” I echo.

“Yes, for Gregory Lawrence’s book. I’m a friend of his, and he promised to introduce me to you but, well…you saw him last night.”

I nod, mind going a million miles an hour over everything from last night. I was preoccupied with managing Gregory and his drunk ass. I know there was a lot I missed. And there’s no way I can recall every fucking face from last night.

“Right. He was a bit distracted.”

“That he was. He told me where to find you and said I should stop by. I’m a writer.”

I sigh. Maybe this guy is harmless, but he’s all the more fucking annoying now. It’s not the first time an author has showed up uninvited either. Though compared to some of the stories I’ve heard from agents, this is nothing. Still…this is not what I want to be dealing with right now. Or ever. I’m not shy to give a constructive rejection, but when it’s in person like this it’s always awkward.

“I don’t have a card on me, but if you have any questions about publishing, the Black Ink website should have all the information you need. And I don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts.”

The grin doesn’t leave his face. There’s not even a glimmer of disappointment. In fact, it’s as if he knew this wasn’t going to amount to anything.

“Well, it was worth a shot. Thanks, Cole.” He eyes me up and down again, and then looks at the flowers resting on top of the donut box. “For the pretty blonde you were with last night?”

If he saw me with Lindsay, then he was there. I feel a little better knowing he’s not lying about that.

“No, they’re for my girlfriend.” I can’t help the smile that springs to my face from saying that word. Girlfriend. Ana and I have a lot to figure out, but we know we want to be together. And that’s more than I could ask for.

“Oh, wow. By the way that chick was all over you, I would have sworn you were together.” He winks then raises his eyebrows. “A man after my own heart. Mad props for that.”

I don’t react, but internally, I’m going back—again—and don’t remember a single moment when Lindsay’s hands were anywhere inappropriate. She hoped for more but was respectful. What is this guy talking about?

“Didn’t I see you at the coffeehouse just a few minutes ago?”

“I think so. Wasn’t sure if that was you or not. Figured I’d meet you here and—”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Gregory gave me your contact info. Right from his phone.”

I take in a slow breath, still unsure about this guy. Gregory does have my address, phone number, and email saved in his phone. And he was pretty fucking shitfaced last night and could have easily shared all my info without actually meaning to.

“I thought you’d be headed home,” the guy goes on. “You got to-go coffee, so I made an assumption. I thought I was wrong since you didn’t answer the door. I was just about to leave when you showed up.” He eyes the flowers again. “Now I see why I beat you here.”

“Right. Have a good day.”

Steven gives a nod and starts down the steps. I wait, watching him gain distance before I turn my back and balance everything in one hand while I dig my keys out of my pocket and let myself into the house.

It might not make sense, but something about the guy didn’t sit right with me, and I’m starting to think it’s the weird-as-fuck way he was looking at me. It was almost like desire, but for something other than romance.

Whatever.

I go in the house, and shut and lock the door behind me. I set the coffee, donuts, and flowers on the kitchen table and go up the back stairs to the master bedroom. Ana is still asleep, twisted up in the sheets. Her hair is over her face in a tangled mess. She looks so real and beautiful.

I sit on the edge of the bed and lose the battle of keeping my hands off her. Her flesh is warm and inviting. I want to strip out of my clothes and feel her up against me again. All day. Every day. For the rest of my life.

The thought jars me.

I’m nowhere near close to telling Ana that I love her. But I want to. I long to fall in love, to keep this going with no end in sight. It’ll happen slowly, and it’ll be beautiful.

Just like Ana.

Ana softly moans in her sleep as I rub her back, before rolling over, eyes fluttering away.

“Morning,” she mumbles, eyes meeting mine. I smile down at her and kiss her forehead.

“Sorry to wake you up. I figured you’d want your coffee while it’s hot.”

“Yeah.” She brings her arms out of the blankets and grabs me, tugging me to her. I move into the bed, curling my body around hers.

“This works too,” I whisper and kiss her neck. We could stay like this all day and it wouldn’t be enough. “I’m surprised the doorbell ringing didn’t wake you up? You said you were a light sleeper.”

“I think it would have, though the house is big enough maybe I wouldn’t have heard it.”

That weird feeling that something is wrong comes back. “No, you would have. The doorbell is wired to ring up here for that very reason. There’s actually an intercom system throughout the house so you’d definitely hear it unless you’re sound asleep.”

“I guess you really wore me out.” She smiles and runs her fingers along my back. “Who was at the door?”

“An author wanting to talk to me about his book.”

“He just showed up? That seems extreme.”

“It’s not that uncommon, actually. I’ve heard some rather crazy stories from other editors and agents about authors getting borderline stalker to get their manuscript in their hands. It’s a tough business, so I kind of get it. They think it gives them a leg up but it’s fucking creepy and annoying.”

She laughs. “What if I showed up on your front porch asking if you’d take a peek at my novel?”

The concern I felt before turns into lust. “I’d definitely take a peek. At your novel, of course.”

“Just a peek? You wouldn’t want more?” She moves the covers down, exposing her breasts.

“I almost forgot you were naked. You are so fucking hot.” I slide my hand along her smooth thigh.

“Speaking of hot…coffee sounds amazing.”

“Hot, and evil.”

“I’m a she-devil. Best you find out now.”

I laugh and kiss her, then help her to her feet. She throws on a shirt and panties and nothing else, which is almost hotter than being naked, and follows me into the kitchen.

“So this author,” she starts and takes a seat, grabbing one of the to-go cups of coffee and popping the lid. She brings it to her nose and deeply inhales. “God, I love that smell. Anyway, what happened with the author?”

“I told him I don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts and that was pretty much it. Thankfully. It’s always awkward giving a rejection in person, though I suppose this wasn’t a real rejection. And I was nicer than I had to be considering he showed up at my house on a Saturday.”

“How’d he know where you live?”

“He said he got my info from Gregory at the party last night, which is entirely possible. Greg was drunk enough to not think straight and pass out my personal address to anyone, especially if he considered that person a friend.” I start to say something else but stop, not seeing the point.

“What is it?” she asks and goes to open the donuts, but then notices the flowers. “Did you—are those…”

“Yeah, they’re for you.”

She gets up from where she’s sitting and goes around the table, smiling broadly as she picks up the colorful bouquet. “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Cole. Do you have a vase?”

“I do.” I go to the kitchen sink and open the cabinet beneath, pulling out a plain, glass vase. I fill it with water and bring it back to the table. Ana undoes the string holding the flowers in a bunch and starts arranging them.

“You were about to say something,” she reminds me.

“Oh. Right. It’s nothing.” I take a seat and open the box of donuts, stomach grumbling. I’m fucking starving.

“My mom used to tell me if it really was nothing then you wouldn’t have said it in the first place. It always annoyed me when she’d say that. But now I kinda think it’s true.” She looks away from the flowers for a second to meet my eyes.

“I see merit in that. And I was going to say that the author was weird. But I can’t put my finger on why, other than he just was.”

“I know what you mean. People can give off vibes.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it, and this Steven guy gave off a weird one.”

Ana drops a flower and the blood drains from her face.

I stand, going over to her. “Ana?”

“You…you said this author’s name was Steven?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“What did he look like?” She turns to me, face pale and eyes wide. “Cole, what did he look like?” she rushes out.

“Sandy blonde hair, kinda plain, a good half-foot shorter than me…I really didn’t pay attention. I did notice a scar on his wrist, though, only because it went through a hideous tattoo of a snake.”

My description makes everything worse, and Ana’s hands tremble. She shakes her head from side to side, breath leaving in quick little huffs.

“Ana? What is going on? Do you know that guy?”

Her eyes fall shut for a few seconds as she gathers her composure. I wrap my arms around her and she leans into me. “Yes,” she whispers and opens her eyes. “Steven is my ex-boyfriend.”