I lean back against my car, completely breathless. I think I would have given him anything at that moment just to get him to kiss me. When I leaned into him, I felt warmth radiating off of his body. I felt cocooned and safe. His scent was pure male, woods, and musk. I had to stop my tongue from darting out and running over his full lips.

I get in my car, grabbing my phone to save his number.

I’m going to kiss those sweet lips tomorrow.

My already wet panties are now drenched in anticipation. I haven’t been kissed or touched in a long time. I know I could get lost in Liam.

When I pull out of the parking lot, I notice Liam is still there, standing next to his Jeep. A faint glow casts over him from the streetlight. I can tell he’s grinning and I clench my thighs together.

I go straight to my bedroom when I get home, take off my clothes, and crawl into bed. I settle in, about to read a new romance book. I’m already smiling, thinking about Liam looking over my shoulder at the coffee shop, when my phone chimes.

Liam: Make it home okay?

I imagine him grinning his contagious grin, letting a small chuckle escape while his chocolate-candy eyes light up in amusement. I can’t give in that easily, even if I’m just playing at this point. I want to kiss him. I want to do more than kiss him.

Shit. I don’t know how to explain to him that I don’t give my address to everyone without him following up with more questions. My past dates have mostly been set-ups or casual meetings, so it was easy to say I want to meet them at the restaurant. I bite my thumbnail, thinking of an excuse.

That sounds plausible. Nothing to question, could totally be something I have to do, I think, nodding and feeling proud I thought of something so quickly.

Shit. Stupid, drunk Savannah.

I don’t reply, unsure of what to say. I want to sound breezy and light like I’m not a girl with issues. My thumbs stall over the screen, begging my mind for anything to say.

My heart pounds harder at his sweet message. I’m nodding, even though he can’t see me. I’m thankful he isn’t prying. I know he’s being honest. I can trust him, but I can’t let go yet. I’ve held onto my peace of mind and safety rules for so long. I’m not sure I can or should toss them out the window at the first sign of a good man.

* * *

The next morning, my mom picks up on the third ring. “Hey, honey. How’s it going?”

The sound of her bright voice makes me miss home, but I could never live where I grew up. After everything that happened, I needed a fresh start. My parents come to see me on holidays. I haven’t been back in six years, and I don’t plan on ever going back. My parents talked about moving closer after my dad retires. I hate to take them from their home, but a selfish part of me wants them closer.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Uh-oh. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

She instantly knows something is up by the sound of my voice. Her questions take me back to our kitchen table eating warm snickerdoodle cookies fresh from the oven. My mom sitting on a barstool next to me rubbing my back, taking away every problem in the world.

I stay quiet for a minute, not sure where to start.

“Just start at the beginning, honey,” my mom says.

“I met a guy.”

She sucks in a breath. I know this is difficult for her, too. She wants me to be safe but has been pushing me to live my life. “Please tell me this isn’t about that jackass from a while ago.”

“Jesus. No. Of course not!”

“That’s good. Okay, where did you meet this guy?”

“I first saw him at the gym. He grew up in this area. He’s friends with one of James’ friends.” My parents know James. My mother adores him and continuously begs me to invite him over when they visit. My dad respects the hell out of him. He knows James gave me part of my life back when he took me under his wing all those years ago.

My mom stays quiet, letting me speak at my pace. She never pushes me. She always sat, silently and patiently, as I ate a snickerdoodle and shared each challenge I faced. I think her silence made me open up and share more than other teenage girls might share with their moms.

“I officially met him at a coffee shop. He’s so handsome. Sexy. Tall, muscular, with brown eyes and hair. He loves cinnamon rolls like you wouldn’t believe. He’s smart and funny. That day at the coffee shop, he was getting cinnamon rolls for his mom and sister. How sweet is that? When he told me he moved back to be closer to his family, I melted right there on the coffee shop floor.”

My mom sighs. I know she’s sitting at the kitchen bar with her head in her hand, swooning. I get my love of romance books and fairytales from her.

“So, when he asked me out I said no.”

“What!” my mom exclaims. She stutters, trying to speak. Finally settling on, “I didn’t expect that.”

I give a harsh chuckle. “Yeah.”

She stays quiet again, waiting for the rest.

“Since the first time I met him, I felt something. I want to get to know him. I want to go on a date with him, but I’m terrified. You know anyone I’ve dated before this was easy. I knew there was a definite expiration date in the extremely near future. He’s different. I want there to be something more with him.”

This is something I love about talking to my mom. The silence she gives allows me time to work out issues and admit more to myself. “He was nice about my refusal. We kept running into each other. Long story short, we have a date tonight. He almost kissed me last night, and Mom, I really wanted that. He wants to pick me up. I said no, I’d meet him. He told me to think about it. He said I’d be safe with him. He said he knows I have a story and he won’t pry. At least not right now. I don’t know what to do.”

This is usually the time my mom offers up sage advice, but she remains quiet. I take the phone away from my ear, making sure the call is still connected. I’m about to ask if she’s there when I hear her sigh.

“Honey. You know I want you safe, and I admire how much you take your safety into account, but he’s not a threat anymore. You’re safe. I’m happy that as a young, single woman, you don’t just let any man into your home, but I think you need to loosen the reins a bit. Take a chance.”

“That’s what James said, too.”

“I always liked that boy,” my mom says. I can hear the smile in her voice. In her mind, she unofficially adopted James into our family.

“Do you like this man?” she asks me.

“Yes.”

“Do you feel like Liam’s a bad guy?”

“No, but I didn’t think–”

“Don’t bring him into this. Forget about him.” The displeasure in her tone screams through the phone line. She refuses to say his name.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. She knows I’m listening and trying to take that advice.

“You like Liam. He’s a good man. Liam is not him. Give him your address, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Call me tomorrow. I want to know how the date went. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

I hang up the phone and bring it to my chest. I know James and my mom are right. I have to loosen the reins a bit if I want to truly live. I’ve been priding myself on not hiding, but I haven’t been living, either. It’s time to take my life completely back.

* * *

“Harp?” I knock softly on Harper’s slightly ajar door.

“Yeah, babe?”

I push open the door to find her lounging on the chaise in the corner of her bedroom. She has a clay mask on her face, and her hair is knotted on top of her head. She looks up at me expectantly.

“So...” I start before trailing off.

“So?” Her perfectly shaped eyebrow arches high.

“I have a date with Liam tonight,” I blurt out, then cover my face, embarrassed by how nervous I am.

“The guy who was with James and Hudson the other night?”

“That would be the one.”

“I knew it! I totally called it. I knew he was into you. That fine man was staring at you all night. When’s the date?”

“Tonight. Want to help me pick out an outfit?”

“Do I think shopping is more important than breathing?”

She actually does feel this way. Outside of owning her boutique, Harper shops. She shops when she’s had a bad day. She shops when she’s had a good day. She shops when it’s a Tuesday.

“Of course I want to help you get ready!” She bounces off the chaise and runs through the door, pulling me behind her—straight into my room. She sits me on the bed and rushes into my closet. “Let me work my magic!”

I hear her sliding hangers and making noises of approval or disapproval with each slide. “Do you know what you’re doing for the date?”

“No,” I answer.

“Okay, casual, but something that could easily be worn in a nicer place.”

I lie back on my bed, waiting for her to complete her “magic.”

“Have you shaved?”

“Yeah, I shaved my legs this morning.”

“Not what I was asking, Sav. I’m hoping everywhere, including your legs, is all nice and silky smooth.”

“Harper!”

She pokes her head out of the closet, giving me a look that says to get over it. She goes back to work inside the closet when I begrudgingly answer, “Yes, all silky smooth. Not that it matters!”

“Of course it matters,” she says.

“He won’t be getting anywhere near my ... area tonight! We just met.” My cheeks redden from embarrassment.

“Get over yourself. If it feels right then there’s nothing wrong with going after what you want. Besides, you’ve been in a dry spell so long, you could rename your ‘area—’” I hear the air quotes in her words— “the Sahara Desert.”

She may be right, but I’m not ready for any of that with Liam. Even if he does make me tingle every time I look at him. Even if I do want to grab onto his ass while he...

“Sav.”

I look up to find Harper giving me a knowing smile. She walks fully out of the closet, holding some hangers. “We have a few options here. I want you to look sweet, but utterly sexy.” She starts holding up each dress to my body, casting each one in two different piles. I’m not even sure which ones she likes and which ones she doesn’t.

She shoves three dresses into my hands. “Try these on.”

I go to the bathroom to change into them.

“Why are you so nervous about tonight?”

I sigh before pulling the first dress over my head. It’s beautiful and sexy, but too much for a first date. It’s an emerald green with a deep V in the front. The dress hugs every curve of my body and hits above mid-thigh. This is not a casual dress. At least not to me. It might be for Harper, who looks like she’s ready to strut the runway even when she’s going to bed.

I step out of the bathroom into my room. Harper is sitting on the bed, smoothing her hand over the fabric of one of the dresses lying next to her.

“How can you tell I’m nervous?”

“We’ve been living together for a while now. I think I’m getting to know you pretty well. I can tell when you’re lost in your mind. You only recess into yourself that much when you have some extreme emotions going on.”

I groan, flopping onto the bed. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. It just ... feels different than other dates I’ve gone on.”

“How so?” She tilts her head, eyebrows pinching together. “You were excited about your last date.”

“Yeah, I was, but if I was honest with myself, I think I knew there wasn’t much on the line. Not much risk involved. With Liam, I am almost positive that I won’t leave before dinner starts.”

Harper starts laughing a deep belly laugh. “I still can’t believe the date was so horrible that you had to come home before dinner. If it goes the same way with Liam, make sure to bring home some good food again.” She winks at me, making herself laugh even harder.

“If that happens, I’m ordering dessert, too.”

She laughs some more before pushing me off the bed and urging me to try on the next dress, declaring this one “too much.”

Right before I step into the bathroom, Harper squeals. I turn around expecting to see a mouse or something crawling on the floor. “What? What!” I ask, dancing on my toes, searching for what made her squeal.

She waves her hands around, launching herself off the bed and out of my bedroom. I’m completely confused. I start to follow her when she comes back in carrying a garment bag.

“I almost forgot this came in today! It is perfect for tonight. Just the right amount of sweet with a sexy surprise. I’m going to start selling it at the store next week. Wear your nude wedges that tie around your ankle. And hair should be big and wavy. Neutral makeup palette. BOOM,” she says, trying to make an explosion with her hands without dropping the garment bag. “You’ll look like a freaking bombshell!”