While Nathan rushes out to intercept Helen before she catches us in a position that I'm sure she'd never shut up about, I work on looking like I'm not a teenager who almost got caught making out in my boyfriend's room.

It doesn't seem as easy to do as it was back then.

While I listen to Nathan's patient voice talking with Helen out in the kitchen, I make a dash across the hall to the bathroom.

So much for looking like I wasn't about to go all the way. My hair is a mess, my long-wearing lipstick is non-existent, and my shirt is on inside-out.

I wonder if Nathan did a better job getting dressed in a hurry than I did, or if his neighbor is out there right now, silently eyeing a list of tell-tale signs that she interrupted something.

Knowing Helen, she wouldn't be so silent.

Feeling guilty for leaving Nate out there on his own to fend off any uncomfortable questions, I fix my clothes and make an effort to tame my hair with a little water and some finger combing after a quick search of the guest bathroom drawers reveals absolutely nothing resembling a comb or a brush.

The lack of any signs that a woman has been in this house surprises me. I think of Dani and Summer, Nathan's daughters. I know they both said they don't get to visit their dad as much as they'd like now that they're older and busy with their own lives, but I expected to find his house still filled with their things.

I guess they meant it when they told me he was out here all by himself. No wonder they were so glad to hear he'd decided to get remarried. If a little surprised at the method he chose for finding their new step-mom.

The still slightly askew woman in the bathroom mirror smiles at me. I'm so excited about getting an instant family. Even if the girls are grown. At least I already know I adore them and, seeing as how they did pick me to marry their dad, I'm pretty sure they like me too.

Now the woman in the mirror looks at me wistfully and I grab for a tissue out of the box on the counter before her image blurs past recognition.

I can't believe how lucky I am.

Dabbing at my eyes, I do my best to fix my makeup while I think about how well things have turned out.

What started as a simple desire to not die alone has turned into finding someone I really connect with.

Nathan and I have spent so much time on the phone since we met, I already know I'm a half step away from head over heels. And the chemistry is off the charts.

The woman in the mirror blushes as I remember just how good Nathan felt a few minutes ago. All of him. His mouth on mine, his hands all over my body, his fingers sliding into me while I wrapped my hand around his cock.

We weren't taking our time and I didn't want to.

I wanted to feel him inside me. Filling me up, the heat of his skin on mine as we moved together.

Thinking about how close I was to making love to a man for the first time in about forever causes new heat to rise in my cheeks while the memory of how much I'm looking forward to being alone with my fiance again has heat rushing to other places as well.

A quick splash of cold water on my face doesn't do anything to take the flush out of my cheeks any more than I expect a cold rinse in the shower would kill the unsatisfied feeling between my legs.

"...and whip up a batch of okra. Should be ready by 6."

When I join Nathan in the kitchen, I find him staring at Helen's back as she stands at the sink with the water running.

She's babbling about vegetables as I slide up beside him and his arm slips around my shoulders.

"She says she's making us dinner," he whispers at me with a look on his face that tells me he thinks that sounds about as great as I do.

"Okra?" I mouth silently.

Nathan's face scrunches up and he shakes his head. So I take it Helen can't make okra any more edible than my grandmother could.

"Tiffany! I'm so glad you were able to come back out to see us again before the wedding." Helen doesn't seem the type to gush, but here she is, gushing over me when she turns around and sees me standing beside Nathan when she turns off the kitchen faucet and turns around to grab a dish towel. "I was just telling Nathan that I have dinner planned already. I've got a roast in the oven already and I'm just about to get some okra going."

Helen doesn't give me a chance to respond before she's shooing us out of her way so she can take over the kitchen.

"Does she do this often?" I ask Nathan as he aims me through the French doors off the dining room and onto the back patio.

Nathan gives me a bewildered and slightly helpless look. "That woman has never shown up in my home to make me a meal in all the years I've lived in this house," he tells me. "She must really want you to stick around."

I can't help but laugh.

"Then she shouldn't make me eat okra," I tell him seriously.