You can’t begin to imagine the images that fly into my mind the second her text comes in. I swear, worrying about her takes a solid ten years off my life.

When I arrive at the zoo—running to the pandas, mind you—I see none other than Corbin and Mick, my dad’s goons. Slowing to a near halt, I casually walk over. I don’t care if they see me, but I have to know a few things, like what they’re doing here and why these two fuckwads would be watching Tessa.

Taking a seat on a neighboring bench, I attempt to listen to their conversation.

Corbin says, “Lemme get this shit straight: you, actually you, were married to the flatliner who was reading over near the pandas?”

You have got to be fucking kidding me—my work Mick is Tessa’s “Mick the Dick”? Dammit, what did I do in my early life to cause such a barrel of twisted monkeys to land in my life? Because, seriously, this is some majorly messed up shit.

Quieting my internal thoughts, I again try to concentrate on what they’re saying.

Mick starts spewing his lies. “Yeah, she was a real loner, ya know? I’d known her pretty much my whole life. We dated all through school. Granted, I did still fuck whoever I wanted, but it all changed a couple weeks prior to graduation. Her dad died, so she needed a real man to step up and take his place—and I did.”

Covering my mouth, I’m successful in keeping them from overhearing my laughs. He’s such a liar. This woman-bashing piece of dog shit doesn’t deserve to be in her presence, and if Corbin believes this filth, he’ll never be worthy of looking at her again either. I will have their balls for this.

Corbin’s talking again, and it takes me a second to hear him. “Odd, don’t cha think? Boss puts us on babysitting duty, but doesn’t tell us why we’re watching her. Shit, he didn’t even tell us what he wanted reported back—like does he want to know she has a hookup around here and feeds the pandas? And now, you’re claiming she’s your ex-wife. What reason would he have for sending you to watch her? Did you tell the boss you had been married before?”

Mick merely replies, “Beats me.”

If you only knew Mick. If you only knew.

Since they’re not leaving their post, I’ll have to distract them while I grab Cherry. As I walk over to the nearest concession stand, a plan starts to formulate. If I can get it to work, it’ll give us enough time if we book it out of here. She’ll have to trust me, no questions asked until later.

There’s a cute teenager working the stand, reminding me of what I assume Averill looked like at that age. Her name tag says Melissa. As I approach, she grins, her teeth full of braces.

“Hello, are you having a zooooorific day?” she asks.

“I will be if you can do this favor for me. I’ll pay you a hundred bucks, but only as long as you won’t get fired for helping me.”

Taking a few precious minutes, I fill her in on my plan.

“Dude, this shit is going to be epic. Do you read? There’s this book, Brightside, where the main character wants to do something epic every day. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, cool. Maybe I’ll read it someday,” I snap back, a tad anxiously. “It’s go time, Melissa. Please try to keep them for five minutes. If you can’t, make a caw caw sound extremely loudly. Are you all set to go?”

“I’m gravy, Ace.”

Shaking my head, I don’t bother to question her using my nickname. Though I’m not totally sure why, ladies seem to feel the need to call me Ace.

She pushes her refreshment cart, which now has a full display of stuffed animals covering the back so no one can see around her, closer to our target. When I can no longer make out what’s behind her as she faces Dumb and Dumber, I quickly run toward my sweet Cherry.

Knocking quickly, I forget about my manners, grab my girl, press some money into Louie’s hand, and bolt for the entrance. Melissa’s cart is still covering us as we make our escape. She’s amazing—not Melissa, but my Cherry girl…and, okay, Melissa, too. If it weren’t for her enthusiasm, my idea wouldn’t have worked.

Glancing over at Cherry, I see she’s still visibly shaken. She has a right to be, though she still doesn’t know what happened fifteen minutes ago.

As we’re driving along now, I can’t help myself—I keep gazing over to stare at her. My eyes are drawn to hers. The loud music doesn’t seem to bother her. I had her turn it up because it’s obvious that my father knows I’m involved with someone, so I’m thinking he must have my truck bugged. He wants me to concentrate on the business, not a side piece, as he’d call her. Too damn bad he doesn’t have any idea what’s about to go down.

She’s my world now, and I’ll do anything to protect her.

Pulling into Mission Beach Park, I stop in the first spot wide enough for the truck. I place a finger to my mouth, to communicate that she should remain quiet. I’m not positive the truck’s been bugged, but I’m not risking it. The beach seemed like the most logical place for us to go. We can talk here without the risk of someone overhearing us.

Opening her door, I haul her into my arms. I have one hand placed behind her head, the other wrapped under her knees. She’s crying, and I’m doing all I can to comfort her. She’s the strongest woman I know. Her silent tears stream down her face before hitting my hand as it cradles her head.

“Cherry, you’re safe here.” Finding a clear space in the sand, I sit down, careful not to hurt her.

“Br-Brant, what’s going on?” she manages to ask through her sniffles.

“I brought us here and turned the radio up because I wasn’t sure if our places or vehicles have been bugged. It seems Martinelli knows about us.” She takes a deep breath as her beautiful sapphire eyes seek out mine. “And, uh, there’s more, sweetness.”

“Okay…I figured as much. Let me sit up a bit, and tell me everything. I can handle it, Ace.”

Bending my head toward hers, I place a peck upon her lips, release her, and let her get comfortable. She gets up and plops down next to me, her fingers spreading out to absentmindedly play in the sand surrounding her.

“When I was running to you, I stopped short because I spied two of Martinelli’s goons. My first thought was to get closer to them. I was curious to see if I could possibly overhear their conversation. I didn’t care if they saw me, I’d just think of something my father wanted as my reasoning for my presence. What I heard changes everything.” My hand seeks out hers; I need the physical connection to continue. “Your ex-husband is one of the thugs sent to ‘keep an eye on you’.”

She squeezes my hand hard enough that she would have broken my fingers if they’d been threaded together.

“Excuse me? What? Can you explain, please?” she begs, the shock evident in her voice.

“I overheard them talking. Corbin—the other fuckwad—said he couldn’t believe Mick was married to you. I’ve met Mick a couple of times, maybe three. Anyway, he went on and spat his lies to Corbin. I also found out that they have no idea why they’ve been sent to watch you, but I do. He has to know about us, and him having you followed is his threat to me, one to keep me in line. He believes if he infiltrates my life by knowing those closest to me, he’ll somehow keep me close. It’s twisted, I know.” Sighing, I take a moment before continuing on. “Now I’m more certain than ever—you have to be protected. You’ll be safer away from me until this has ended. My work Mick ending up being your ex Mick hits too close to home. I’m not risking your safety. I love you too much to ever want to lose you because of my ‘job’.”

Holy shitballs.

His declaration of love scares me more than knowing Mick is nearby and knows where I am. I’m not entirely sure how to answer, so I’m staying silent for the moment.

Love.

The last time I trusted a man as much as I blindly trust Brant, it nearly killed me. Love scares me. I’ve done love. The kind of love I did isn’t typical, I know, but in the beginning, we were terrific. We had normal dates—dinners, movies, days at the beach, nights spent at bonfires with his friends. Those things were easy.

It’s the hard parts I’m terrified of.

Love.

It brings you joy and incredible pain. It’s nights spent in the hospital with broken ribs. It’s black eyes and cut lips, giant sunglasses to cover the bruises, long-sleeved sweaters, button-downs, and t-shirts. My upper arms and my wrists had to be covered, so long sleeves were a must, even in hundred-degree weather. It’s lying to those surrounding you. It’s getting smacked for simply laughing too loudly. Once, my head hit the wall behind me with enough force to knock me out. I woke hours later in a hospital bed, alone. It’s retreating so far back inside yourself, eventually you end up hating who you are enough to want to end it all.

For me to believe the words coming from Brant’s lush lips, I’m going to have to take some time to think it over. I…like Brant. Since we’ve decided to give in and see each other, he’s managed to lift my spirits every day, but my pesky promise to myself is always there at the forefront of my mind.

From my standpoint, it isn’t too quick to say the words, for him or for me. We’ve known each other for over two years now. We’re wonderful together, and we complement each other. He feels like the yin to my yang. It’s not a question of my trusting him; it’s my fear holding me back from taking the steps I need to take to get to the level he’s at.

Love.

I’ve witnessed the type of love books are written about. Rhys loves Averill with his soul, and vice versa. They’re each other’s missing puzzle piece, and together they’re whole. I’ve sealed my heart away for the last six years. How do I bring it forward without losing who I am?

“Why me, Ace? I’m not looking for a compliment, and I’m not filled with false modesty either, but I truly have no clue as to why you’re saying you love me. I know I’m beautiful—I’ve put a lot of effort into my appearance—but…why me?”

“No one can explain love. Many have tried and failed. You’re you, it’s as simple as that,” he replies.

My heart feels like it’s bursting.

“Do you see me as a victim?” I ask.

“No, I’ve never seen you as a victim. You’re one of the strongest women I know—Averill and you both. You have faced your demons, risen above like a phoenix, and learned to soar. You’re someone who doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone. You can sling out shit as well as take it, and your sense of humor is exactly like mine. You just…fit, but to answer your question: no, you’re not a victim. You’re my Cherry—tart, sweet, and perfect.”

Swoon.

If I thought I needed more time for my heart to feel love, I was mistaken.

“I’m not going to say the words only to say them. They’re worth more than merely tossing them about. My heart wants to say them, but my brain hasn’t caught up yet. I know it’s from what Mick put me through, but I also know this: I made a promise to myself the day our divorce was finalized. I vowed to never let myself get close enough to a man for me to fall in love with him. My brain keeps bellowing my promise while my heart wants me to shout the words ‘I love you’ like they’re nothing. You deserve more. I’m asking for some time before I can say the words. Okay?”

I’m sitting here staring at the ocean’s waves kissing the shore. He stays silent for a few minutes, processing.

“Brant, have you ever been in love before?” I ask. I don’t know much of anything about his dating past—and that’s fine by me—I’m just wondering if he’s been in love to actually know this is love he’s feeling now.

“Once, yes. I loved her, and she loved me back, too, but looking back now, after knowing you, kissing you, making love to you, I wouldn’t say I’ve been in love before. Those feelings back then are a third of what I feel for you, Tessa. Yes, I know one hundred billion percent, I love you.”

Tears of happiness are escaping my eyes, running down my cheeks unchecked. I couldn’t care less. Brant—this arrogant, stubborn, protective, complicated man—loves me with his full heart and soul.

“I…I, uh, won’t say them yet. When I do, repeat every single word of what you said. I’m ninety-nine point five percent positive I’ll want to hear them for the rest of our lives.”

What woman wouldn’t cry after hearing such honeyed words of love? One without a heart, obviously.

“Do you think it’s safe enough for us to go to my house to pack? Tomorrow is my last day at the store, only three hours, and I need to get everything all set for when I leave by the evening. Since I know you won’t allow me to stay there for the night, I’m guessing we’re checking in to another hotel?”

If it isn’t safe, it’s going to cost me a small fortune to buy new clothes, shoes, makeup, and personal hygiene items. Granted, I could ‘borrow’ from the store, the clothes and shoes anyway. Sigh. This is all adding up in my head and I don’t know jack shit, including whether or not I can go home to pack.

“Earth to Cherry.” Lifting my stare to meet steel blue gaze, I see a look of humor spread all over his face. He knows I was spacing out. “What had you lost in thought, sweetness?”

Lifting my hand, I cup his face. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and yet I still question whether or not to throw in all my chips and risk it all.

“If I’m ever going to love a man again, it’s going to be you, Brant Vincent Ashley-Martinelli.” Cupping the other side of his face with my free hand, I bring him in closer and press my lips to his. They part, and once his tongue meets mine, I’m gone, lost in my man’s kisses.

Until someone clears their throat.

“Ahem. Excuse me, this isn’t a private beach. For Pete’s sake, there are children over there, barely five feet away. Get some manners, and take this lovefest elsewhere.”

We’re being scolded by a granny—a legit granny—and oh my goodness, she’s wearing her house shoes! My laugh comes out sounding hysterical—and maybe it is—but this is the best thing to happen all day. She’s who I used to long to one day be, wearing whatever the fuck I want and yelling at the young whippersnappers to take it inside. She’s even wearing readers. I’m laughing louder now, and people who weren’t watching before definitely are now.

“Hey, Ace.” Giggles sneak out as I try to speak.

He nods, letting me know he’s heard me.

“Do you know who she was?”

“No, should I?” he asks.

“She’s me, or she’s who I wanted to be before you. My life as I used to envision it had me becoming an old crone with two cats who wore readers and chased away the riffraff.”

“Honey, you’ll never be an old crone. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that you won’t be alone in fifty years.” He gets up and holds a hand out to me to help me stand. “Before all of…whatever that was, I was telling you I think we can go get your things packed. As far as work tomorrow? I’m tagging along with you. Where you go, I go. No compromises. That’s just how it is.”

Sighing, I let him know what I think about the whole shitty situation. “When I come back from ‘vacation’, things better be resolved. I’m not staying with Rhys and Averill for a day longer than I’ve planned. You have fourteen days to get this crap cleared up before I’ll be back to kick Mick’s ass myself.”