I’ve been on pins and needles since the night of our sleepover. Hart was very open about Blake’s retaliation. I’m not sure what would happen to me if something happened to Hart. The man who’s opened my eyes to love and to life. No one has ever pushed me the way he does, and that’s probably because I’ve remained closed off for so long.

But night after night as the weeks have passed and nothing has happened. I work at The Shade Tree, sing after my shift, and every Saturday night there’s a handsome man tapping his foot to my songs. I’m pretty sure I’m swaying him to love country music. He claims he loves watching me and that’s it. I swear it’s a combination of both.

Blake still arrives on the weekends to watch the talent and even on some weekdays, but his arms have never extended out to hand me another business card. Life is good. Like really, really good. It’s foreign, and an unknown concept, but I’m living it for now.

“Up.” Hart swats my ass.

Slowly, I roll over to see him staring down at me with his hands on his hips, boxers pulled real low, his morning wood saluting me, and that damn ugly cowboy hat on his head.

Another whack to my ass. “Up. We need to hit the grocery store before family dinner and our chick flick intervention.”

“It’s too early.” I roll over onto my back, hold my arms up to him, and beg with my eyes.

“Not happening, you sex temptress sent from Satan. Let’s go.” His palm wraps around my ankle then he begins tugging me to the edge of the bed.

My hands move on instinct, clutching to the hem of my slouchy sweatshirt. I’ve managed a good balance of concealing my torso and not being obvious about it, or Hart just ignores the gestures.

I was standing on the edge of a dangerous and terrifying cliff the other day when he begged me to shower with him. I wanted to more than anything, but that last thread of fear held me back.

“I’ll pleasure you tonight when you watch your first ever chick flick.” He pulls me up to him peppering kisses along my jaw bone.

“Can’t we just crawl back in bed for a bit?”

“Nope. Peaches needs a carton of whipping cream, and if we don’t get it to her, she may Hulk out on us.” Hart reaches down palming my ass letting his morning boner say hello to me.

“Fine.” I kiss him quickly.

Anything else always turns into so much more, even if they’re long, lazy kisses where we take our time exploring each other.

“Lose the hat, John Wayne.” I’m faster than him, reaching up and snatching the hat off his head and tossing it. My hands smooth down the sides of his hair until they meet around back at his ponytail. Never in my life would I imagine that I’d find a man with a ponytail, man bun, etc. the hottest thing on Earth. But I have with Hart.

“Get dressed, Shug.” He slaps my ass one more time for good measure.

He knows I go to the bathroom alone to dress and undress entirely. My legs and ass only for his sight. My fingers tremble as I lock the door. It’s the fear of the unknown striking me again. I want to give him all of me, but how can I when I don’t even have all of myself.

I slip on a skinny pair of jeans, slide on my boots, and then wash my face. It’s in my reflection where I find the most comfort when outside of Hart’s arms. I see the same old girl who has always run from her fears and hidden in dark corners of the world, but there’s a sliver of a reflection of the girl who wants it all.

I do something I’ve never done, not even in the shower. I keep my palm covered with a washcloth when washing. This time it’s bare and unsteady at best. The skin of my palm connects with my abdomen. It grazes the ridges and torn flesh. Bile rises in the back of my throat, the smell of burning flesh floods my senses, and I pull it away quickly as if it was a hot coal burning me.

“I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.”

“You okay in there, Shug,” Hart hollers.

He’s always right there. Just a few footsteps away to catch me. The ring of my new nickname makes me smile, rapidly extinguishing all the bad thoughts and memories.

“Yeah, be ready in a second.”

I hear his forehead drop on the other side of the door. “Can you wear a mini skirt and no panties?”

I whirl away from the mirror, tossing my sweatshirt to the ground and pulling down a black tank top before pulling the door open.

“You seriously need your head checked, baby.”

“That will do.” He scrubs his face. “I mean, that will seriously do.”

Hart’s not shy about studying me from head to toe and then doing it again. I pull my wild curls up in a messy bun, tying them off, then brush my teeth. It’s Hart this time who’s trying to coax me back to bed. He has a theory about skinny jeans and cowboy boots. It’s simple really…they give him a raging boner.

“I’m going to go blind.” He adjusts the crotch of his pants while I lock the door.

“You’ll be just fine. I promise.” I drop my keys and slowly bend over to retrieve them.

“God, you’ve hung around me too long,” he groans, then I’m hoisted up in the air and tossed over his shoulder.

He packs me to the car caveman style, and I’m on alert keeping my shirt pulled down. When my boots hit the pavement of the parking lot, I’m swatted a good one for my funny joke. My hands fly to the hem of my shirt.

“Shug.”

“Yeah.” I peer up into his serious face.

“I know there’s something you don’t want me to see and lots you’re not willing to tell. Whatever it is, I’m not running. I’ll wait until you’re ready and I’ll never force your hand.”

I nod my head, fighting back the impending tears.

He cups my cheeks, dips his face low until our foreheads connect. “That’s what you call love. I won’t push you or leave you. I’ll stand by your side holding your hand until you’re ready for all of this.”

“Love,” I whisper.

“Yes, I love you, Shug.”

“You don’t even know all of me.”

“I'll love you until my dying day and if I never know it won’t matter a bit to me.”

“You will.”

My replies are juvenile. The moment so surreal and overpowering that my brain can’t seem to muster up much of an articulate thought.

“I will. Fucking country music and all.”

And he does it, this man makes me laugh, fall in love with life, and fall deeper in love with him.

He steps back to open my car door, but I catch his hand first. “Hey, Cowboy, I love you too, so much that it hurts.”

“I’m pretty much impossible to resist. It’s okay, Shug.”

And just like that the scales of balance called my life are put back into place. Hart knows exactly how far to push me, then crack me up with a cocky joke of his. I have no doubt left that our paths were meant to cross. The torture I endured was shaping me for him. It’s just the part now where I have to dig up the courage to find the strength not to let the secrets control me anymore.

His rock ‘n’ roll blares as we cruise to the grocery store. I’ll never ever admit it to him, but it’s damn catchy. It makes me happy, light, and the rhythm is always impossible to ignore. The tip of my cowboy boot taps while the wind blows through my hair and tickling my skin.

After parking the car, he hops from it and opens the door for me. We walk hand in hand into the store.

“Hart.” I grab the shopping cart from him. “We came for one thing, and you have five bags of candy tossed in already.”

The sneaky little shit goes to throw a bag of gummy worms in, instantly bringing back all kinds of vivid memories, creating an ache between my legs.

“That’s the last one,” I warn him, pointing a finger.

It doesn’t stop him. He keeps flipping sweets in the cart, but I do my best to juke and jive with the cart, so they land on the ground. I whirl the cart down the dairy aisle, but back out just as fast.

“Um, what are you doing?” Hart asks, popping a chocolate candy in his mouth.

“Nothing.” I blush a bit.

“Shug.” He pops another Milk Dud in his mouth.

I let out a long breath, and my shoulders sag a bit. “I have this weird tic.”

Hart eats another candy.

“Stop.” I snatch the box from him. “You’re shoplifting.”

“Hey.” He steals the box right back from me. “I’m going to pay for the empty box. Now on with this weird tic.”

My hand tightens around the handle of the cart. “I, uh…refuse to go down an aisle when there’s someone else in it.”

He lifts an eyebrow then licks a few chocolate pieces off his lips. “Bullshit.”

“What?” I ask.

But he doesn’t respond with words. Hart’s strong arms wrap around me from the back and he places his hands on the outside of mine on the shopping cart. His muscular chest presses into my back. He guides us down the aisle filled with people. My feet refuse to move, but Hart’s force is way too powerful. We mosey down the aisle filled with other customers. The dizziness and darkness begin to loom then I feel his lips on the nape of my neck. His long hair tickling my skin.

“I have you, Shug.” He kisses my neck once. “I’ll always protect you.”

He continues kissing my neck and whispering promises until my panic attack is long forgotten. Now a huge smile covers my face and love in my heart makes it flutter. Hart reaches over nabbing a carton of whipping cream then tosses it in the cart, not skipping a beat or leaving me open.

He has me giggling by the time we round the corner yet he still doesn’t let go. The both of us so wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world disappears along with every single one of my worries. I call it the magic of Hart Richards.

The cart is slammed back into my stomach followed by the loud sound of metal crashing. We both whip our heads up to see who we’ve crashed into. In the flash of a second, I feel Hart stiffen behind me with all the playful banter ceasing.

The man standing in front of me looks like he’s had better days. There’s unruly scruff covering his face, bags under his eyes with a worn expression covering his face.

“Hart.” He speaks one word causing Hart to step back from me.

I have no idea who this man is, but what I do know is that it’s a demon from the past that haunts Hart. I turn to him, close the space, and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Baby.” I reach up to cup his face. “Are you okay?”

“Heard you were back in town, son.”

Son?

Hart’s jaw tenses. The sound of his teeth grating back and forth sends chills down my spine. It’s his dad.

“Blake’s a good guy.” His dad takes a step toward us. “Gave me a job and has been helping your mother.”

Hart shoves me behind him in a protective stance, never letting go of my hand. He’s squeezing it so tight and I’m about to tell him, but then he begins talking.

“Stay the fuck away from Mom, Peaches, and me. You have no right to talk about her, Arthur. And Blake can fuck off,” Hart growls.

He’s flipped a switch and gone from mild to wild in a matter of seconds. It’s a glimpse of the fighting, soldier Hart. He’s scary as hell.

“Son…”

“I’m not your fucking son. You lost that privilege when you chose to use me as a punching bag.” Hart whirls our cart around in the opposite direction. “And to be in bed with the one man tied to your daughter’s murder? You are a real fucking winner.”

“You are just like me, Hart,” his dad replies with anger lacing his voice.

Hart advances on him, no longer seeing anything logical, just like the night at the bar with Blake.

“Hart.” I pull back on his hand and reach for his flannel shirt with the other. “Hart, he’s not worth it.”

He stops for a beat but doesn’t turn to face me, so I continue.

“Please, baby, you can’t protect me if you let your anger get the best of you. You have me, your mom, and Peaches.”

Finally, his body relaxes, but he still doesn’t turn in my direction.

“If I ever see you around Mom or anyone else I love, including the girl behind me, then I’ll finish what you started.” Each one of his words are sharp and defined. “I’m not the same boy who would just take punches. I’ll end you.”

Hart turns to me, wrapping me up from behind, and pushing the cart. He’s silent while we check out and take the groceries to the car. His jaw still tight with tension. His fists balled up tight. He still opened the door for me and waited until I was settled before shutting it.

It’s torture watching my good-looking man round the front of his car torn up with painful memories. He slams the door as he settles in his seat. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel as he grips it. I crawl, carefully but quickly, over to him until I’m straddling his firm thighs.

Hart exhales loudly, dropping his face to my chest. My hands roam through his hair, untying his man bun and letting his hair drop down.

“Are you okay, baby?” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond as he gets his breathing under control. I bend down and kiss the top of his head.

“I’m proud of you. I don’t know what he’s done to you and know it was hard to walk away.”

“There’s one person I hate on this Earth, and that’s him. The hate is so pure it’s blinding,” he pauses. “I haven’t seen him since the day I forced my mom to leave him.”

“He hit you?” I ask.

“He’d beat the shit out of her and me. It was never-ending, even when she was first diagnosed with cancer.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” I force him to look up at me, my fingers grazing the apples of his cheeks. “You are a good man. A kind and caring person. Don’t ever let him control you again. You, Hart, are nothing like him. Hell, you fought for your country and made a life for yourself. Okay, I’m going to shut up right now and kiss you.”

He finally cracks a smile. “About damn time, Shug.”

I brush my lips against his, coaxing him. Hart takes the bait, attacking my lips hard and rough. Our tongues move and glide against each other exploring every surface. My hips begin to shift in his lap as the kiss deepens. I’ll never be able to get enough of this man.

His hand covers my ass, pulling me into his erection. He begins rocking my hips in a gentle motion causing the perfect amount of friction. Our kiss turns brutal with licks, nips, and biting. The mood has morphed from sorrow to playful to downright desperate.

Hart moves one hand from my ass to cup my pussy. He grinds against it perfectly. The feeling so delicious I break apart from the kiss, throwing my head back and leaning on the steering wheel. It takes only a matter of seconds before I’m screaming out his name while enjoying a sweet, sweet release.

It’s not until I come down from the ecstasy that I realize the car horn is blaring. It takes me even longer to figure out whose horn it is and why it’s a steady blare.

“Crap.” I sit up quickly. The sound stops.

Hart begins laughing like a lunatic. His large hand grabs the back of my head bringing me back to his lips. He finishes the kiss off with delicate sweeps of his tongue then sinks his teeth down on my bottom lip.

“What about this?” I cup his dick that’s fighting to spring free from his jeans.

“Told you, Shug, gonna make me go blind.”

His cell phone rings, and we both look down to see the name on the screen. Peaches the Pest.

“Later,” I whisper into his ear and then scramble back to my seat.

Hart reaches over and pulls me right back to the center of the car. Thank God for bench seats. As he drives, he keeps his palm on the inside of my leg. It’s a possessive gesture, and I love it. He’s quiet, and I damn well know he’s still struggling with his internal thoughts. I don’t even know his father, and I already hate him more than I ever thought imaginable.

The people who tortured and abused me have remained faceless my entire life. Counselor after counselor claimed it was my mind that kept blocking out those memories. I was young ,very, very young and the ability to keep everything at bay and hidden deep in the recesses of my mind is a blessing in disguise.

Hart pulls into his parking spot in front of Peaches’ and kills the growling engine. I kiss his cheek.

“Don’t we have a rule about not letting anything ruin our firsts?”

“We do,” he nods. “Don’t mention this to my mom or Peaches.”

“Okay, baby.” I run my hand along his cheek. “So, you’re good?”

“When you’re touching me, it makes everything better.”

I wander my hand down to his crotch. “Touch here is what you’re saying.”

“Under the jeans would make me really, really happy.”

“And that sad face would disappear?”

“Instantly like instant gratification. Go on, now.”

A loud hollering gets our attention. It’s Peaches waving a wooden spoon at us.

“She’s going to beat my ass with that.” Hart cringes. “Will you save me?”

“Nope, you’re on your own, toots.” I slide over to the passenger door and hop out with a handful of groceries.

Peaches is pleasant as always when I walk in, but the sound of a slapping spoon and the shouts that follow let me know she wasn’t so kind to Hart. The pair of them could be their very own comedy show.

I drop the bags off and go to a sleeping Maria. She’s wrapped up in her favorite blanket sound asleep in her recliner. My heart sinks watching her fade day to day.

“Thank you, Maria.” I kiss her forehead. “Thank you so much for giving me him. You have no idea the gift you have given me. None.”

I kiss her one more time before heading to the kitchen. Peaches and Hart are in a full-out wrestling match on the floor. She’s currently holding a box of his candy hostage over her head while he’s holding her down trying to stuff a piece of black licorice in her mouth. Neither of them willing to concede. I decide to pop up on the cupboard and watch the show.

Peaches is vicious, not backing down from a grown man. They go on like this until a timer on the oven goes off. She pulls on his hair to get him off her.

“You fight like a damn girl.” He tosses the licorice in her ratted up, styled hair.

And of course, it wouldn’t be true Hart fashion if he didn’t lick the entire thing first. At this rate, I’m pretty sure we’re never getting fed.

Hart saunters over to me, pulling me to the edge of the counter, wrapping his arms low around my waist. My legs wrap around his middle as my arms do the same around his neck.

“I’m not an idiot.” I raise one brow.

“What in the world are you talking about?” he asks innocently.

“You are using me. You know Peaches won’t touch you if you’re by me.”

“Me?” He pulls back. “Never. I’m a gentleman.”

When Peaches nears us, he pulls me closer, causing me to let out a burst of laughter.

“You are such a pussy,” Peaches taunts, but goes about finishing up dinner.

Hart ignores her. His phone buzzes with a Miley Cyrus song. He pulls it from his pocket on instinct. I watch as his index finger gracefully glides across the screen. His face lights up on automatic mode.

“Uncle.” A sweet little voice streams across the phone.

Hart turns around, so his back is pressed into the counter. He relaxes back until the blades of his shoulders are pressed against my cleavage. An innocent, sweet girl grins back on the screen of his phone. Her toothless smile would make the world’s biggest villains grin right back at her.

Hart has told me about Izzy and their past. The day I found the doll in his car I had a brief panic attack suspecting the worse. But there was no wife and kids, just an absolutely adorable little girl who adores him.

“Did you dial the wrong number?” Hart asks.

“Uncle.”

“Seriously, this isn’t Prince Charming.”

“Uncle, it’s your girl,” the sweet little girl sings out.

“Oh, damn Izzy! I didn’t even recognize you.”

I didn’t know it was possible for her little grin to beam wider, but it does.

“I knew you didn’t forget me.” She brushes back her mess of wild frizzy hair. “I miss you, Uncle. No one plays princess and unicorn like you. Daddy has no idea how to do it. He just rolls his eyes and then grumbles. He never even kisses the princess doll.”

“Are you shitting me?” Hart asks in a serious tone.

“Nope, no shits here. It’s like I’m in jail or something. Juliette only likes Ninja Turtles and dirt. Nobody plays princess with me like you.”

In the tiny corner of the screen, I catch the sad smile Hart shows. He quickly hides it, going on about the blasphemy of not playing the right way. It warms my heart setting it on inferno when he indulges in this little girl’s fantasy. It’s sweeter than anything else I’ve seen Hart do.

“Izzy, good news.” Hart winks at the little girl, falling further back into me. “I found a real life princess.”

“You did,” she squeals.

“I did. Meet the girl I love second most.” He grins widely then shines the camera closer to me. “I do mean she will always be number two in my book and you number one.”

“She’s pretty. Is she like one of those hookers who hand out candy on the corner in Vegas? Did you buy her?” Her grin and excitement enthusiastic. “She’s pretty but probably very pensive.”

“Expensive,” Hart corrects her. “But worth every single dime.”

“Hi, princess.” Her little hand flies in front of the cellphone.

I do my best to mimic her excitement.

“Hey, Izzy.”

She sticks her face closer to the phone. “Do you have a real name?”

“Savannah,” I reply.

“That’s pretty.” Her smile once again falls.

“What’s wrong, chicky?” Hart asks.

“I just miss you and now…”

He cuts her off immediately. “I will be home soon. I’m not staying away forever, missy. And you’ll always be my number one girl.”

Izzy’s frown still remains on her face.

I lean forward, resting my chin on Hart’s shoulder. “The first night I met Hart he informed me that I’d always be number two in his book because his heart already belonged to a girl named Izzy. He’ll always be yours.”

Her frown slowly forms into a smile. “Thank you. I miss my uncle.”

She wipes stray tears from under her eyes. Hart bounces from the counter and returns wearing his ugly cowboy hat. Izzy’s giggles fill the room. After a few moments, I realize he’s holding his princess doll. Leaning back on the counter, I watch as he sits in the middle of the living room and begins playing with Izzy over the phone. Their chatter continues on for a long time.

I hop off the counter and help Peaches finish whipping up dinner.

“You know you are better help than that goof.”

I smile at her. “I like to think so.”

“You look really happy.” Peaches doesn’t make eye contact while whipping the cream for our dessert.

“I am. It scares me.” I reach up into the cupboard, fetching a pile of dinner plates.

“New things should scare. It means you’re cautious and that’s not a bad thing.” Her grip tightens around the metal whisk in her hand. “Blake bother you again?”

“No.” I shake my head even though she’s not looking at me.

“Good. Keep Hart in that loop. I know the boy has a temper like no other, but he will protect you.”

I nod knowing damn well he will. Dinner goes like any other Sunday meal with banter, laughter, and Maria beaming at her son. Julie, Hart, and Maria find themselves deep in discussion over their current read. I’m still too embarrassed to admit I’ve been reading with Hart.

I did muster up enough courage to tell Hart that I never learned how to. I knew enough to survive, and that’s it. One of the foster mothers taught me how to play the guitar, and it was like instinct when it happened. My fingers were made to strum, and my voice blessed to sing. I can read music and remember songs after listening to them one time. Hart explained to me it was just the way my brain works. It didn’t stop him from pushing me for another first…learning how to read.

He’s patient, gentle, and kind with me. Some nights it’s rough and painful, causing a lot of frustration when reading and other nights it’s playful, which leads to sex.

I help Peaches clean up the dishes while Hart puts his mother to bed. I know they’ll be reading a few chapters of Ahren Sander’s latest book. I’ll catch up later with Hart’s help in my comfort zone.

“Movie night,” Hart announces when he enters the clean kitchen.

“What are you kids watching?” Peaches asks.

“How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days,” Hart answers.

Peaches pats my shoulder. “Take notes, sister. I’m off to a friend’s house.”

“A lady friend?” Hart waggles his eyebrows. “Gonna go get you some?”

Hart then proceeds to dry hump the air while moaning. Peaches smiles but does her best to ignore him.

“Here, take this. It will get you down any lady’s pants.” He throws his cowboy hat on her head, smooshing it down for good measure.