Is this what living feels like? Adrenaline and genuine emotions that don’t hurt, but only make you feel. Is this why the majority of people relish the act of life? I’m beginning to think so. Hart Richards has flipped a switch inside of me turning off all past demons, letting life shine brightly from me. It feels good. Damn right. Scary? Yes, but it’s his touch and words that give me the courage to embrace it.

“Hey, kids.” Maria waves to us from her rocking chair.

“Young lady, do you need your ass whipped?” Hart pretends to check the time on his fake wristwatch. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

Maria beams proudly at her son, enjoying a light chuckle. I know she’s a dying woman on limited and very much borrowed time, but she shines brightly around Hart. He infuses life into her dying body. The best medicine.

“She’s had all of her medicine.” Julie gives Hart a one armed hug. “Oh, and we finished our new book tonight, mister.”

Hart stomps his foot, putting on a show for the women. “That’s it, both of you little hussies are grounded for a month.”

They roll their eyes and share a giggle. It’s surreal how this man manages to warm the hearts of everyone in his proximity. It’s the ugly part of him he keeps buried so deep that worries me. Not for my safety, but his. I shake off thoughts of the fight and the nasty memories it rears up in my mind.

“Let me put this wild woman to bed.” Hart pulls me into his side, pressing his lips to the side of my head. “I bought shit for sundaes. You can pull it out.”

“Okay.” I squeeze him tight, really not wanting to let go but knowing I have to.

I go over to Maria before heading into the kitchen. “Sleep tight, Maria.”

I bend over and kiss her forehead and then hug her. Maria has always had a special place in my heart, but now, knowing she’s responsible for gifting this world with Hart Richards makes me love her that much more.

Before I have the chance to let her go, Maria whispers in my ear. “He really likes you, kid.”

I lean back smiling down at her. “I really like him, too.”

“Oh, Vannie, that makes my exhausted heart very, very happy. He deserves a woman like you.”

I shake my head slightly. “You’re wrong. I deserve his kind, warm, and loving heart and you are the one to thank for that.”

“Well, then you are welcome.” She pats my shoulder with pride pouring off her.

“Enough. Enough of this estrogen bullshit ass slapping.” Hart waves his arms in the air coming between us.

There’s no way he heard what we were talking about, but still, he makes a big show about it. I give the two of them their space while they go about their nightly ritual. I’m greedy when I study Hart’s strong back disappearing down the hall with his mother cradled in his arms. He’ll read a bit to her, make sure she’s tucked in, and wait until she falls asleep. The man melts me.

Hart wasn’t kidding when he said he bought stuff for sundaes. But one thing I’ve learned about this man is he doesn’t joke around when it comes to food unless it contains vegetables. Every possible topping covers the counter. There are three different kinds of ice cream in the freezer, and two jumbo cans of whipped topping. I’m not sure where to even start.

Homemade ice cream sundaes; yet another first checked off. Maybe I should make those ice cream sundaes with a sexy, flirty boy a first. Pulling down two bowls and spoons, I hope like hell the mood from earlier vanishes, not tainting tonight with any of its evil.

Not knowing what to do next until the ice cream king returns, I decide on popping open the chocolate bottle of syrup and tasting it. Good God, Hart has turned me into just as big of a sugar addict as he is.

“Damn, I have a sweet tooth.”

I turn to see Hart standing in the entrance of the kitchen with a devious look on his face. My finger still sealed between my lips freezes at the sight of the man. Is this what love looks like? Feels? Supposed to be? It’s an internal debate that’s been storming inside of me since meeting him. How is a woman supposed to know when she’s never been loved by a single person?

“You okay?” he asks tentatively while nearing me.

“Fine,” I croak out then pour more syrup on my finger.

“The first rule of sundae making club is…”

I interrupt him. “Sundae making club? Is this another Hart-ism?”

He reaches into the pantry while replying to me. “Woman, this isn’t a joking matter. It’s the difference between a shitty, half-assed made sundae compared to an orgasmic one.”

I slap my palm over my mouth when he reappears from the pantry with his ugly, ass cowboy hat on. The fan of feathers on the front is still as hideous as before. It’s his cheesy smile that makes the hat absolutely adorable.

“One must wear a sexy cowboy hat in order to achieve optimum sundae flavorage.” With each word, he takes a step closer to me until there’s no space left between us.

I roll my eyes at him while stifling my laughter.

“Oh, what’s that, young lady? Are you mocking me?” He tears his shirt off with one hand while balancing that damn cowboy hat on his head. “Now, this is the optimal sundae making attire. I’ll bust these bitches out like a well-oiled machine.”

“You are insane, Hart.”

He only shrugs then grabs me by the waist, hoisting me up onto the counter.

“Sit back and learn from the master.” He winks at me.

“Hey, you forgot something.” I snag his arm, tugging him to me.

“What’s that?”

We are nose to nose breathing each other in. The world around us disappears. The worries, fears and anxieties are dust in the air. It’s just us.

“You didn’t ask what toppings I want.” I lean in closer to kiss him.

I take charge this time, licking the seam of his lips until he opens up to me. Then I let my tongue sweep into his mouth, dipping and diving into his taste. Hart moans into me then settles between my spread legs. He doesn’t fight to take over but stands there letting me kiss the hell out of him.

When I pull back, I’m panting for air with the pads of my thumbs petting his cheeks. “I like this. I want this fun tonight, but, Hart, I have to make sure you’re okay from earlier.”

I regret my question the second he drops his forehead to mine, avoiding eye contact. “I'm all right.”

“Don’t lie to me, Hart.”

“That guy.” He clears his throat. “He was after my sister. Her biggest dream was to sing and make it big. Long story short, she was killed in high school. I blame him, knowing he had something to do with it.”

I push knowing this is the only time I’ll be able to. It’s a selfish act since I refuse to open up to him. “And I heard him talk about your dad.”

“My dad is a cruel son of a bitch. He beat my mother and me until the day I got her out of there.”

“Okay, Hart.” I pull his face back up to mine.

The look in his eyes devastates me. He’s so broken under all of his shields of armor. The world sees this resilient man as a happy-going bloke, carefree, wandering from place to place. But at his core, there’s nothing but heartbreak and terror. It’s at this moment that I realize we are more alike than either of us realizes.

“If the cops show up tonight, don’t be surprised. It will be just a slap on the wrist.”

“Hart.”

He cuts me off with a well-sealed kiss. When he pulls back, the mood shifts right back into ice cream sundae mode.

“Now sit back and watch perfection, Vannie Ray.”

I fight to smile. It’s brutal after processing the truth he just revealed. I can’t even let the thought of him going to jail float into my mind. I wouldn’t be able to defend him or stand up as a witness because the world doesn’t know who I am.

“Never mind. Get your ass down here and help.” Hart snags my wrist, pulling me down to the ground.

“Kick your shoes off. You need to be barefoot for this.”

I quirk up an eyebrow at him in question.

He holds up both arms. “Hey, I don’t make the rules, but if you want a good sundae, then you will comply.”

I kick off my shoes then stand in front of the counter. Hart’s chest pushes against my back, and I quickly melt into the man who just opened up to me. His hands cover the top of mine, guiding me to each tub of ice cream and scooping out generous portions.

He shakes the scoop out of my hand, dropping it into the sink.

“What about yours?” I ask.

Hart dips his face into my neck then he whispers, “Thought it would be fun to share.”

That curious and so sweet sensation overtakes me again. It’s the one I’m suspecting feels a lot like life and passion. It’s addicting, and I find myself craving more and more of Hart’s touches, kisses, and whispers just to experience the feeling.

We make a mess out of all the toppings, squirting generous amounts on the top of our ice cream. The slow drizzles turn into globs in the bowl. My mouth waters with the sweet smell coming from the container and the sexy one from Hart.

When he steps back from me, I grow sad quickly with the loss of his touch. He’s become my home and peace in such a short time. I never believed in two souls belonging to each other until now.

Hart reaches into a drawer pulling out two spoons. I don’t realize I’m staring until Hart clears his throat. His tan skin, lean body, and tattoos hypnotize me.

“Ready?” he questions then holds out a hand to me.

I lace my fingers in his without thinking. We walk down the dark hallway to his bedroom. This will be my first time seeing it. Lots of firsts happening tonight. My stomach tightens with the thought of what I want from him. Hart closes the door with his foot, being careful not to let it slam, then flips on the light. He grabs my hand as soon as the room is lit up.

“Are you serious?” I gasp and cover my mouth.

Stunned doesn’t even begin to describe it. The room has been made into a sleepover wonderland with a large tower of board games, puzzles, DVDs, and the holy jackpot of junk food. His bed is void of any blankets and in their place two sleeping bags. One is an Iron Man sleeping bag while the other is a hot pink Barbie one and both have matching pillows.

“Your first official sleepover, my lady.” Hart smiles down at me.

“This is freaking crazy, Hart.”

“Here are the rules.” He tugs me until we are both sitting on the bed facing each other with the bowl of ice cream between us.

We sit cross-legged, and I dig into the sundae while Hart explains the rules to me. He’s serious about the rules as he explains them. It’s cute. The part I love most about Hart is this right here in front of me. The man simply loves life and sharing happiness.

“Nothing but junk food and soda at sleepovers. We are required to stay up all night long. If one of us does fall asleep, then the other gets to color a mustache on them with a permanent marker.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I choke on the maraschino cherry in my mouth. I sputter for a few seconds and all Hart does is smile and begins shoveling in ice cream.

“That last part is a joke, right?”

“Nope. It’s the most important rule.” The silver spoon glides between his lips. I study the action as his mouth wipes it clean. “And typically sleepovers are full of chaos, lots of laughter, and being seriously loud.”

I place my hand on his knee. “We can be quiet.”

“Quiet-ish,” he corrects. “I mean, we have to party it up.”

“Deal.” I wink.

We sit in silence while inhaling the ice cream. I impress myself when I meet Hart spoon for spoon. However, it catches up to me on the last bite of chocolate, caramel syrup. I flop back on the bed clutching my bloated belly. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and now I’m sick. Like, going to upchuck everything type of sick.

“How do you do it?” I moan staring up at his ceiling where he has hot rod car posters taped.

“Do what?” he asks, lying down next to me staring up at the ceiling as well.

“Eat like you do. I’m going to be sick.”

“You’ve got to train your body. Start out slow then build yourself up.”

I roll my head over to gaze at him. I could’ve predicted the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Do you think this is all too good to be true?” I whisper.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Us.” I raise my hands up in the air and feel my stomach roll, so I promptly lay them back down on my angry tummy. “When we are together everything else fades away. I’m not scared or worried. You make me feel like a real person.”

Hart leans over and kisses my forehead then runs his pointer finger down my nose. “It’s the best real, and no, it’s not too good to be true, Vannie.”

“It’s crazy.”

“Crazy, good?” he asks.

I nod.

“Hey, do you mind if I finish that book those little hussies read without me?” His whiskey eyes plead with me.

“Only if you read it out loud to me.”

He springs out of bed, races over to a tall, dark dresser, and grabs a tablet. Hart flies back into the bed in one giant leap. The mattress, sleeping bags, and I bounce with his weight vaulting into the bed. He rolls around until he’s comfortable on his back and propped up on pillows.

“I’m going to puke if you bounce around much more.”

“Get up here, baby.” He reaches down a hand tugging me up to him.

I find a comfortable nesting spot perched on his side with my head resting on his broad shoulder and my arm lying across his stomach. He doesn’t stop wiggling until he finds the perfect reading spot.

“This, my fine woman, is Hotshot by Ahren Sanders. In the book world that my mother and Julie have me well addicted to, this read is considered steamy and angsty. The male character is much like me.”

“How?” I ask taking him serious.

“He’s hot, sexy, and knows how to kiss like a God.”

“Hart.” I smack his abs. “Just read.”

“I’m serious, Vannie.”

Hart proceeds to catch me up on the storyline. I try focusing in on his words, but the fact this manly man is all jacked up about a romance book is too adorable. Hart begins reading, totally immersed in the book. I’m soon sucked into the storyline on the edge of biting my nails. But I keep my fingers busy tracing the winged tattoo that covers the width of Hart’s chest.

The delicate lines are intricate, completing the gorgeous artwork.

“God, that bitch needs to die.” Hart slams down the tablet to the mattress.

He’s speaking of the villain in the story, and I must agree that she’s the poster child of evil, ruining everything she touches.

“Just skip to the end and see if there’s a happy ending,” I suggest.

“That’s cheating, Vannie, and I don’t cheat.”

“It’s not cheating, silly, it’s just a book.”

“It is cheating and not just a book. Back home in Montana when I’d tell my cat I’d be home at a certain time and I was ten minutes late, I’d feel guilty for cheating on her.”

“I worry about your insanity, Hart.”

“Here, you read. I want to hear your sweet voice, and I’m pretty sure a sex scene is coming up soon. Double bonus. Best sleepover ever.”

“Hart…”