“DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE that,” Ford says, counting out a final ten push-ups and then hopping to his feet no worse for the wear. “Your ass could be down here doing these with me.”

“Absolutely I could.” I take a sip of tea from my seat on the porch swing. “But I’m not.”

The air is crisp, a wind blowing across the lawn of the Farm. Our family’s getaway is an escape from the hustle and bustle of life, where we all come to congregate and get fresh air and have big scale family dinners. We all have a space here, a bedroom that we use when we need a spot to land. Granted, I don’t ever use mine, but the others do. Ford is staying here until he finds a place of his own.

“I’m thinking about hiring Barrett’s trainer, Achilles,” Ford says, stretching his arms overhead. “I’m having a hard time getting a hard enough workout in on my own.”

“Paying someone to kick your ass. I’ve never understood that,” I joke. “Seems like you could just run another mile or lift another set and do it without shelling out money.”

“It takes effort to look like this,” my brother says, flexing his biceps.

“Do you forget you basically look like me? Just less good-looking?”

“You wish,” Ford laughs. “You should see how your assistant looks at me.”

I glare at him and he only laughs harder. “How are things going with Mallory?”

I let my mind go to the one moment that I keep replaying. Her looking up, her eyes filled with every ounce of lust I was feeling, along with a dose of uncertainty. The way her lips parted in anticipation, how her chest rose and fell as she tried to stay calm. The smell of lavender is as fresh as it was as I breathed her in for the first time.

“That good, huh?” Ford chuckles.

“She’s smart. Doing a good job.” I rise from the swing and lean against the rail.

“Nice vanilla answer. I love your evasiveness. You’re turning into Barrett.”

I roll my eyes.

“I chatted with her a bit before I left your office today,” he informs me. “I like her.”

My head snaps to his. “What do you mean?”

My brother’s laugh comes immediately. “Just like I thought.”

“Just like you thought what?”

“It’s only natural. She’s a nice girl. She’s seems smart. She’s gorgeous as hell.”

I take a quick sip of tea to keep him from looking at me too closely. “I’m not following along.”

“Only because you’re still chasing her tail, which is exactly my point.”

“Whoa,” I say, standing up straight. “I think you’re ahead of yourself.”

He climbs the stairs to the porch and leans against the rail on the other side, grinning at me. “I haven’t been around much these last few years. I only know what our siblings tell me, mostly meaning Camilla, plus what Mom and Dad volunteer. But none of them have ever mentioned you with a woman. Not seriously.”

“This is not news.”

“But why, Graham? It’s like everyone in the family is moving on, starting their own thing. Lincoln is having a kid. Barrett will eventually grow a pair and do the same. I’m not averse to the idea myself. But you? Don’t you want a family of your own some day?”

“Sure.”

I leave him standing on the porch as I head into the house. I don’t close the door behind me because I know he’ll follow. Sure enough, when I get into the kitchen and turn around, he’s standing in the doorway.

“I’m not pressing you,” Ford says. “To be honest, I couldn’t give a shit about what you do with your life as long as you keep working because that benefits my bottom line.”

“Fuck off,” I chuckle.

“But I do think you work too much. I think you take shit too seriously. I think one day you’ll look back on your life and wish you’d lived a little more.” With a simple shrug, he turns and starts down the hallway. “I’m jumping in the shower. If you leave before I get out, lock the door.” His footsteps fall against the steps, his weight causing the floor joists above me to creak as he makes his way to the bedroom at the end of the hallway upstairs.

I hate when he does this. He says something semi-insightful and then leaves you to think about it. I don’t want to think about it.

The kitchen is quiet, the only sound coming from the birds outside.

This is why everyone loves it here. It’s almost its own world.

I venture out onto the back porch, Ford’s words echoing in my head. He’s wrong—I am happy. I live my life exactly how I want it. I designed it this way.

I had to.

A myriad of imagery races through my mind. I can see her tears rolling down her tanned cheeks, feel my stomach twist in what I’m sure is some kind of death knell. I see my father’s disapproving face and my mother’s look of sympathy, and I know I can never do that again.

The last time I went off plan, I nearly lost everything. Anxiety sets in, my head filling with what-ifs—questions I’ll never have answers to. Maybe answers I don’t even want because it won’t make any difference. Things are what they are. There is no changing that. I go through my well-practiced routine of reminding myself I’ll never lose control like that again in order to gain some relief.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out, happy for the distraction. I see a familiar number, a woman I meet sometimes for a bite to eat and then a quick fuck. It’s routine between us, neither of us wanting more than a release. I return her message with a quick text that I’m busy tonight, even though I’m not. I’m just not feeling it.

Even as I type that out, I know it’s a lie. I am feeling it, just not with her. As my brain begins to parade images of Mallory Sims through my memory, my lips part into a smile.

“What is it about you, Mallory?” I ask out loud, my voice carrying off in the wind. Unfortunately for me, the wind doesn’t answer.

As my brothers have attested, there’s no denying her beauty. She’s fucking beautiful with her sexy lips, bright eyes, curvy body. Her brains make her a step ahead of the other women I see occasionally, because brains and beauty in one package? That’s heaven, a combination that just does it for me. But I’ve seen it before. Once, to be sure. Or so I thought. And that’s precisely why I’m not about to do it again.

As hard as it is, figuratively and literally, to work with her every day, I have to make it happen. She’s the best thing to happen to my office since Linda. The fact that she opens up parts of me that haven’t been touched since Vanessa is the scary part.

I let the sun shine down on my face, warming me. As my eyes shut, it’s Mallory’s giggle I hear and the heat of her breath I imagine on my skin. Instead of going back in the house like I should, stopping this stupid little fantasy before it gets out of hand, or worse, routine, I stand on the porch and relish the feeling for a few more minutes.

The fact that I’m not just imagining her beneath me, losing myself inside her, but thinking about her smile, the way she tells a story—that’s a problem. It’s the scariest part of all.