Leaving Ava’s condo is hard as hell.

Here’s the thing, I never thought about settling down and getting married. Not because I’m some coldhearted asshole, it’s just that after everything with my parents I knew I’d never get attached like that with another person.

They died tragically–and I blame myself. My brother and I were left in the wake, and it showed me how fragile life can be. The last thing I’ve ever wanted to do is get wrapped up with someone, have a family with someone, only to ruin it all.

So now, I’m a realist. And the reality is this: life is fucking hard and scary and it can change in the blink of an eye. The last thing any woman needs is me and my baggage and my mountain to make it any harder.

But walking away from Ava Grace? After the night we shared? It hurts like hell.

I made love to her sweet little body all night long, woke up with the taste of her pussy still on my lips. I walked into her kitchen and saw her looking like sunshine and promise and hoping that I could offer her all of me.

I saw what she was thinking all too clearly.

So, I left with nothing more than a goodbye because I can’t offer her any promises.

Who knows what’s gonna happen to me out on the mountain? I could die, freeze to death. I could get lost in a snowstorm or fall in an avalanche.

The last thing anyone needs is a man who might not always be around. It’s too fucking risky.

My brother meets me at the coffee shop. A fucking Starbucks because that’s the kind of man he is. I watch him order a skinny latte with two sugars. Watching him, I conceal a smile. Poorly.

“What are you laughing about?” Taylor asks.

“Nothing, but are you sure two sugars will be enough?” I get my black drip coffee and carry our drinks over to an empty table.

“I thought you were flying out early today,” Taylor asks as he lifts his white paper cup to his mouth, waiting for me to answer

“I’ve got an hour before I have to get to the airport, thought we could do some catching up.”

Taylor laughs. “Catch up? Samson, you’re my big brother but for last three years, you’ve been MIA. I know things got rough for you here for a while but—”

“Rough for me? Taylor, I took a fucking break. Working for the man made me crazy. And you’ve been fine without me.” We’ve talked every few months—enough to know he was proposing to Sophia, enough to show up for the engagement party. “You don’t need me around. You went to law school, have Sophia and her family—you don’t need me.”

“You’re still avoiding the question.” Taylor looks down, avoiding my eyes. He looks like a little boy, like the nine-year-old who has lost his parents, who is looking for anyone to hold onto. I was the only constant, and then I left. Looking at him now I see he still needs me.

“Look, with the wedding—the guest lists, and Sophia’s family being so involved,” Taylor, says, looking back up at me. “Sometimes, I just wish I had my brother back. You're the only family I’ve got.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I bought a ticket to come back for your bachelor party. I know I’m the only family you’ve got, and maybe I’ve been busy getting my shit together for the last three years, but I’m not too busy for you. And the wedding being in Whistler is fucking perfect. It’s gorgeous country up there, and not so far from where I live.”

“I wish I’d known. Sophia and I have gone skiing there the last few Valentine’s Day weekends. It’s why we’re getting married there.” He shakes his head. “I just wish you’d invited me to your place.”

“I’m sorry, Taylor.” And I am. It’s just another reminder that I am not in a place to be in a real relationship — I can’t even make things work with my little brother.

“I put my life back together, that’s a good thing,” I tell him. “And now I’m in a place where I can be more a part of your life. Maybe it’s all coming together at the right time.”

“You sound like an inspirational book, not like the older brother I know who’s always swinging fists and calling people names.”

“I’ve changed.”

“How much of you changed? You still believe that you ought to be alone, so you don’t accidentally hurt them?”

I look down at my coffee cup, realizing that my brother is the only person on the planet who could talk to me like this. Like a fucking shrink. My employees would never address me so intimately.

“I still think that, but,” I say offering him a slow grin, not wanting to end this on a negative note. “You know, I’m sure happy you found Sophia. But you don’t have the same baggage I do.”

“That’s not true. You could still find someone. The night mom and dad died was—”

“Stop,” I tell him. “I know you and I can get to the heart of things pretty damn fast, but that’s cutting it way too close.”

Taylor nods then drops the subject and tries again. “What hotel did you stay at last night?”

I should’ve thought this part through. “One by the restaurant.”

“By the restaurant?” Taylor asks. “There’s not a hotel within a ten-block radius of the restaurant. What was it called? Maybe a new one was developed since I’ve looked.” Taylor, always one to stick with the facts.

“I don’t know, it was nice. A lot of pink, though.”

Taylor frowns. “Pink?”

“Yeah,” I smile. “Pink carpet, pink couch, pink walls.”

Taylor sits back, eying me as if he’s onto me. Hell, he probably is. “I saw you leave the restaurant with Ava.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you go home with her?” Taylor asks, not beating around the bush.

I’m sure where this is going, and I nod slowly. But Taylor’s approach surprises me.

“That girl’s quite a character, right? Sophia and I are just glad she hasn’t gotten married yet.”

This gets my attention.

“Why’s that?”

“She has these ideas in her head about love, marriage. She thinks happily ever after equals a romantic comedy.” Taylor shakes his head. “She drives Sophia crazy with her talk about soulmates in best friends.”

“And that’s not how love works?” I ask.

Taylor shrugs. “Look, Sophia and I are in love. But it’s not the kind that elicits puppies and beds of roses.”

“Puppies?”

Taylor shakes his head; he clearly has plenty of opinions about Ava. “Girls love puppies, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “The thing about Ava, that’s different than Sophia, is she has a pattern for falling for every wrong guy. The girl’s been hurt by more assholes than any woman I know. She always goes for the who's unavailable, a douchebag. So, when I say I’m glad she’s not married, I mean it. If she got tied to one of the guys she’s dated it would only end in bad news. She has horrible taste in men.”

“Is this a warning?”

There’s a tightening in my chest, I don’t like the way Taylor is talking about Ava Grace. Or about me. I saw Ava’s apartment, saw her DVDs and her quote of the day. I get that she’s a romantic. But I also saw her funny, heart on her sleeve, all-in approach to life. It was fucking hot as hell.

“Look, Ava Grace is not my business,” Taylor finishes. “But Sophia is. I don’t want anything to put a hitch in her wedding plans. And you hooking up with her sister would not end well.”

I shrug. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Hell, one day in Denver with my brother and I’m already fucking things up for him. Therefore, I don’t get close to people. I always mess things up.

I’m better off alone in the mountains.

Taylor pushes his lips forward. “If you slept with her, fine, but just let that be enough.”

I raise my hands, letting him know he can drop it. “I’m leaving for the mountains, I won’t fuck anything up, I promise.”

– –

Later, in my house with the fire roaring in the hearth, Esme, my housekeeper, brings me a tumbler of my favorite whiskey.

“It’s so good to have you back, Samson.” Esme is a sixty-year-old woman and takes care of all the things I don’t want to manage. Groceries and laundry and shit that takes me away from my one focus: the mines that made me a billionare and set me up for life in Faro, a town I love. Mostly because it’s small as fuck. Denver is nice and all, wide streets and sidewalks and restaurants that serve more than greasy diner food like we have here.

But Faro doesn’t have Ava Grace.

“Everything alright, Samson?” Esme asks, closing the drapes over the windows in my study.

“I’m good, it’s late, though, you should call it a day,” I tell her, knowing she stayed up late waiting for my arrival.

“Well, welcome home, dear,” she says before leaving the study.

I lean back in the leather chair, thinking how good it is to be in this room that feels like home. A far cry from Ava’s pink and gold condo, that’s for sure.

There’s a deer head mounted above the fireplace, rich leather sofas and walls lined with books. There’s a bearskin rug on the floor and enough whiskey in the liquor cabinet to get me through ten years of winter snowstorms.

My brother thinks I live in some cabin in the middle of nowhere, and I do live in a cabin, and it is the middle of nowhere, but it’s also the middle of my five thousand acres. And it may be a cabin, but not what he’s picturing—no one would call it rustic.

This cabin was built by a guy named Jaxon and his crew in Idaho. They build custom homes—I saw them on a reality TV show. Hired them right away. And this one is fucking magnificent.

I had it built two years ago, after the windfall. I came out to the Yukon to strike it on my own, but after a year here, I managed to strike gold.

I was mining for gold, but so were a lot of guys. There were a few news stories that came out about some people going to the Yukon and finding gold.

Never thought I’d be so lucky, but I was sick of the nine to five grind, not to mention I was fucking things up left and right. Drinking too much, playing way too fucking hard dddd —it was like after years of taking care of Taylor, my body rebelled against the idea of being responsible. All I wanted was to let loose.

I needed a fresh start if I ever wanted to get my shit in order.

I was one of the lucky ones.

I hit enough gold to set me up for my lifetime.

I still mine because I love to be in the great outdoors, a modern-day treasure hunter. I love this land and I love this country. Being out here let me clear my head to figure out who I was and why.

It’s safe out here, no one getting too close. There’s no one to hurt.

My mind, though, it isn’t clear right now. Right now, I’m only thinking about Ava Grace.

Her smile and her laugh. Thinking how I left her this morning and wondering why I wasn’t the kind of man who could just stay.

I wish I could see her again, speak to her. Learn all about her. But I know a man like me would only hurt her. From what Taylor said, she’s been hurt enough.

But damn, I’m a selfish bastard because I still need to see her face.

I take another drink of my whiskey, glad to be home and drinking the good stuff, and get out my laptop. I pull up fucking Facebook, thinking that’s the best place to find this girl.

A few clicks later I have access to her public profile. It lists her birthday, where she went to college, even her email account.

My cock is hard the moment I see her face, and there is picture after picture of her. In every single one, she’s smiling, looking like a breath of fresh air.

I scroll through her feed and see her post about getting a pedicure with a girlfriend, pictures of recent jewelry designs — incredibly impressive designs — and most recently, a post about going to her sister’s engagement party.

Besides her updates, I see she’s taken quizzes. Lots of fucking quizzes.

What character from these romantic comedies are you most like?

Who should be your leading man?

What is your dream date?

Every quiz zeroing in on the fact that Ava Grace is a hopeless romantic.

I swallow, not believing I have the capacity to be the man she needs, but my memory of our night together tells me I should have her anyway.

I take another drink. My head feels less cloudy, things are becoming clearer. Even though it is the middle of the night, and it’s been a long-ass day—I know what I want. What I need.

I’ve got to talk to Ava again. But I need to take a different approach, a different angle. Because I don’t want to get close and hurt her. When I left this morning, I gave her every reason to think I was just like the rest of the men she’d been with.

Detached, unavailable, one and done.

Maybe I can try something different. Maybe I can give her a reason to think I’m more. A woman like Ava Grace deserves to be wooed —she wants a romance worthy of a movie, and fuck, I may not have any clue what it means to fall in love, but I want to see if I can win Ava Grace’s heart.

Without a second guess —because when I make up my mind, I don’t second guess myself.

I type in the URL for Fastmail and I create an account for myself. A way to get to know Ava... a way for Ava to get to know me—without judgment or preconceived ideas about what kind of man I am.

It will give me a way to figure out if I have what it takes to be the man she needs.

I can compose an email.

To: AvaGraceWentworth

From: heartofgold