You want anything?

Yes, Lawrence wanted something very badly, but it was not food. Or Dr. Pepper. Or a spectacular mountain view.

He wanted Maizee, and he wanted her in a way he couldn’t even classify. When several minutes went by, and she didn’t return, he stood and said to her dog, “Come on, Roger. Let’s go inside.” The little Jack Russell came with him obediently, and he called, “Maizee?” into her house before entering.

The kitchen was empty, though the pizza boxes were still open and more of the chicken barbecue had been taken. She lived in a quaint place, with plenty of space, high ceilings, and a light blue wash on the walls.

Lawrence liked the way it calmed him and made him feel like he was surrounded by the cottony texture of the sky.

Her living room was neat and orderly, and he hated that she’d felt the need to rush home and tidy up for him. He wanted to see her at her best, her worst, and everything in between. He wanted to know everything about her, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Roger barked, and Lawrence turned toward the little dog, who stood in the kitchen. “Oh, I’m not feeding you, bud,” he said, though Maizee had given him a couple of bites of her pizza. “Where’s Maizee, huh?”

Roger cocked his head, and Lawrence felt like an idiot for talking to the dog like it was a human. Then Roger trotted off, heading for the hallway like he’d go get Maizee and somehow apologize for Lawrence too.

Problem was, he wasn’t even sure what he’d done wrong. “Obviously something,” he muttered, wondering if he was going to get brownies tonight. Maizee hadn’t even started them yet, and he knew they took a while to bake and even longer to cool. So his sweet tooth wouldn’t be satisfied. The last time he’d left her house, he hadn’t been satisfied either. He wouldn’t die.

It just felt like it.

“Sorry,” Maizee said, breezing into the kitchen with an armful of baking goods. “I forgot I needed more chocolate chips out here.” She wouldn’t look at him, and she’d gone into Super-Maizee mode, just like she had when looking for the paper plates.

She banged around the kitchen, getting out a mixer and butter and eggs. It was almost painful to watch her, and Lawrence searched his brain for a way he could get her nerves to settle. He wasn’t even sure why she was so nervous in the first place.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, looking in his general direction.

Frustration filled him, and he thought about moving right into her personal space and kissing her right now. Maybe that would get her to settle down and share the evening with him. This frantic movement and hurried glances weren’t what he wanted.

But he wasn’t brave enough to make such a bold move. Did she even want him to? She didn’t want to be his girlfriend until he kissed her, she’d said that much. But that didn’t mean she was ready for what it would take to wear the label.

So he closed the pizza boxes and stacked them on top of each other, freeing up more counter space for her. He refused to be pushed out of the kitchen though, and he unwrapped the cubes of butter and put them in the bowl.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I like bread pudding,” he said. “There’s this shop in New York City that makes it with raspberry sauce and vanilla custard and it is so good.”

She measured brown sugar and white sugar and put them in the bowl with the butter. “I like cake,” she said.

“All cakes?”

“Chocolate is my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

Maizee started to settle down a bit, and Lawrence decided he wasn’t terrible at small talk. “I’m not a fan of carrot cake,” she said. “Unless there are no raisins. Then it’s divine.”

“You don’t like raisins?”

“I don’t think they should be in desserts. Just leave the oatmeal cookie alone, you know?”

Lawrence chuckled, glad when Maizee’s fun, playful personality started to make a reappearance. She finished putting together the brownies, swirling together the batter and enough caramel to bathe in before sticking the pan in the oven.

“Now, they bake.”

“Hmm.” He took her into his arms again, and decided to be brave again. “What did I do outside to make you scamper away?”

“Nothing,” she said, a little too quickly.

“You’re not a great liar.” He wanted her right here next to him for a good long while. “You can tell me.”

“It’ll sound stupid.”

“Maizee.” He whispered her name and simply acted. His mouth skimmed her forehead and then found her earlobe.

He melted into him, and he kept a firm grip on her waist. “I like you, Maizee,” he said, wishing his voice wasn’t quite so filled with emotion. “I want to know everything about you.” He probably shouldn’t vocalize his thoughts, and his heart hammered at him, telling him that if he said these kinds of things, it would end up broken. Shattered.

“I’m….” she said, leaning into his touch as he kissed her right below her ear. Now, if he could just get his mouth closer to hers.

“—scared,” she finished. “Remember how I’d just broken up with Winn?”

“Yes,” he whispered, pulling away. “But we weren’t talking about Winn outside.”

“You were talking about me being your girlfriend,” she said, her blue, blue eyes coming open to look into his face. He liked this serious, scared version of Maizee almost as much as the fun, flirty one. “And I want that, and it scares me.”

So she did want to kiss him. A golden glow started to radiate through him, but he kept his smile from forming fully. “So I messed up because I didn’t kiss you?”

“I did open the door for you,” she said, a sparkle coming into her expression now. “Wiiide open.”

“It’s just that you…weren’t ready on Monday,” he said. “And I don’t want to push you now. I can wait. I don’t have to call you my girlfriend until you’re ready.” Lawrence was ready, and he honestly wondered if he could do as he’d said and wait.

“Is that why you disappeared this week? Because I wouldn’t kiss you on Monday?”

“One of the reasons,” he said truthfully. “I know when to back off, Maizee. Honest, I do.” He released her and tried to step back, but she held onto him, kept him close.

She looked at him, and he looked right back. Several seconds went by, but Lawrence didn’t know what else to say. He felt like he’d laid most of his cards on the table already.

“I like you too,” she said.

Lawrence didn’t analyze anything. And he didn’t hesitate while he found his bravery. He wrapped her in his arms again, leaned down, and touched his lips to hers.

A sigh passed through his whole body, followed immediately by firecrackers and lightning. Wow, he hadn’t kissed a woman in a while, and especially not someone like Maizee. In fact, he was quite sure he’d never kissed someone like Maizee, and he simply couldn’t get enough.

He cradled her face in his hands while he kissed her, then moved them through her hair and down her back while he kept kissing her. She matched every movement of his mouth with hers, and it felt like his blood had turned to lava, the flames growing hotter with every stroke.

Before he lost control, he pulled away, his breath coming in bursts and his heart sprinting around his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was excited he’d done such a thing, or livid that he’d put it in very real danger of being broken.

It didn’t matter. For a kiss like that, he’d risk anything, even his heart.

Her eyes drifted open, and she seemed a bit glazed over still. “Wow,” she whispered, and Lawrence wanted to kiss her again.

So he did.

Lawrence ignored work—and his phone—for an entire weekend, instead choosing to spend his time with Maizee. She said she wasn’t feeling adventurous, so he took them out on his yacht where they wiled away an entire afternoon eating junk food and drinking way too much soda as they lay on their backs and let the autumn sun bake them.

He checked his phone after docking and found yet another text from his father. He made a scoffing noise of disgust, and Maizee said, “What’s up?”

“Just my dad,” he said, shoving his phone in his back pocket. He watched the horizon, sort of wishing the day wasn’t ending and he could sail back out into the waves. “He’s bugging me about a deal, which of course I know about and am handling just fine.”

He didn’t want to talk about the Austin Exchange. The firm was just big enough to bring in a decent chunk of money, and Lawrence had talked to Daniel Austin earlier that week. He didn’t need to bring his father up-to-date on the acquisition, because his father had nothing to do with it.

Maizee wrapped her arms around Lawrence, which made some of his annoyance seep away into the atmosphere. “You won’t answer him?”

“I will on Monday,” he said, turning to face her. “It’s the weekend, and I’m not working every waking minute anymore.”

Honestly, Lawrence wasn’t sure who he even was anymore. He’d always loved his job, and the mere thought of an acquisition had him salivating and chomping at the bit to push it through. But looking into Maizee’s eyes, he wondered if he’d wasted a lot of years focused on the tasks in front of him instead of the people in front of him.

And so he didn’t answer his father that day, nor on Sunday, when Maizee showed up at his penthouse with more food than two people could possibly eat. And yet, they made sandwiches and put them in backpacks, and she drove them out to some of that wilderness that had piqued her interest when they’d gone to dinner at the Cattleman’s Last Stop.

And surprisingly, Lawrence didn’t hate walking along a trail barely wide enough for his feet. After getting over the feeling like bugs had invested his skin, it was a lovely walk, with a nice ocean breeze coming in off the water.

And while the sandwiches were just ham and cheese, Lawrence acted like they were fit for royalty. Maizee giggled at him, and said, “I forgot you love sandwiches.”

“So much,” he said around a mouthful of salty meat and cheese. He swallowed and added, “My mother used to make a fried bologna sandwich. She’d butter both sides of the bread, and put mayo on the inside too. Then one slice of bologna on each piece of bread, with a single slice of cheese between them.” He smacked his lips. “Perfection.”

She shook her head, smiling all the while. “She grilled it? Like a grilled cheese sandwich?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…but…I don’t like bologna.”

Lawrence blinked at her, feigning absolute horror. “Well, I’m sure it’s because you’ve been eating it wrong.”

“Eating it wrong?” She sent a laugh heavenward. “What does that even mean?”

He didn’t know, and he laughed too, happier than he’d ever been when he rolled onto his back and let his laughter into the sky. And when Maizee collapsed next to him and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him, Lawrence wondered how he’d ever survived a Sunday without her mouth on his.