Three days had passed since Zane shut down the one woman he’d ever imagined a future with.

He leaned outside of La Rouge and lit his cigarette, the scrape of the brick wall feeling glorious against his sweaty back. Shame had flooded him something fierce the moment that pair of long legs strolled in through the door of Cupid’s Café. At sixteen she’d been a pretty girl, but in the interim, hell on earth, she’d bloomed into the sort of woman men sold their souls to bed. With those hips made for gripping and the sexy curve of her smile, he’d been struggling with his libido from the second she stood in front of him.

He let out a stream of smoke with his exhale. They kept the door propped open with a milk crate, and only the clank of dishes being cleaned remained since most of the staff had vacated the premises for the night. Steam filtered out along with the scent of lemon suds and roasted meat from the prime rib they’d been serving. Walking away from Olivia Morozov might have been the right thing to do, but she was the one woman who could test his resolve like a bottle of whisky.

Still, after the way he’d left things with her brother Lex, he couldn’t afford to rip open that scab. A return to those memories would put his sobriety through the wringer, and he wasn’t sure he’d survive the test. He sucked another drag from the cigarette, wishing he didn’t have to hit meetings so often to stay afloat. No way in hell would he drag her down with him, even if the thought of her pounded in his mind with the regularity of his heartbeat. Even though the memories of the time they shared had been one ray of sunshine through years of stale beer, fistfights, and regrets.

Footsteps came from the end of the alleyway, drawing his attention.

“We’re closed,” he said, tipping his ash on the ground before looking up.

“That’s what I figured by the big neon sign out front,” a wry, sarcastic voice sounded. The familiarity jolted through his veins like the first sip of bourbon, followed by the subtle scent of citrus from the perfume she always wore. The streetlamp’s lighting in this alley didn’t do her justice, but even now, the sight of her knocked the air from him.

Liv Morozov strolled his way in a sleeveless swing dress, the canary yellow color enhancing her creamy skin and the sleeve of ravens and orchids that coiled up her right arm. She wore the same Converse as the other day, reminding him of the hellion tomboy she’d been in high school while she tagged along on their adventures. Her cerulean hair was pinned back in curls he wanted to run his fingers through, and an impertinent smile rested on her red-as-sin lips.

Her pale blue eyes danced with mischief and the same stubborn determination that had them sneaking around her brother, even though Lex would have blown a gasket if he’d known. Zane would have given the girl the moon if he could, but one bad night had cost him everything, and he’d plunged down a hellish spiral ever since.

“Should have known you wouldn’t let things lie,” Zane muttered, running a hand through his tangled locks. Even though a flash of irritation crashed through that she’d found him after he tried to walk away, he fought to hide the smile threatening to surface. A stupid, selfish part of him didn’t want to let her go.

Liv quirked a brow. “You’re the dumbass who told me where you worked. Like I wouldn’t take the initiative?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the folds of her dress swirling around her knees as she came to a halt. “You can scowl at me all you want, Zane Parata, but I’m not leaving here without a second date or at least an explanation.”

Zane leaned against the brick wall, lifting his cigarette to his lips as he sucked in more nicotine. He eyed Liv, not sure how to respond. Other girls he could blow off with ease, but other girls hadn’t shown up for a random date wearing his jacket from a decade ago. Fuck, and the way she smelled, the burst of grapefruit and orange made him want to sink his teeth into her smooth skin and take a bite. He opened his mouth to respond, and despite the calm-cool exterior she projected, he caught a slight flinch to her features. The hesitation in her braced shoulders he’d bypassed on first glance.

Her business was her own, and yet the desire to know her like he once did, to understand what changed her in their years apart, rode him with a fervor he found hard to deny. Dismissing her, blowing her off now might destroy what little remained of himself.

He flicked his stub of a cigarette to the asphalt and lifted his hands in surrender. “Your stubbornness wins again, Livs. Name the time and place and I’m there.” Guilt warred with the giddiness in his chest—no way in hell should he be indulging her, but he spoke before he could help himself.

Her mouth quirked with an adorable smile, and the hesitance vanished. “Fine. Now,” she challenged, her blues flashing in a predatory anticipation. She leaned against the brick beside him, inches away, and fixed her stare on him. “And your place.”

Oh hell. Zane sent a silent prayer to whoever the fuck might be listening. If he spent time alone in his apartment with Liv, if the fireworks exploding between them at merely meeting were any indication, he knew where this was headed. He delivered a wide grin back, showing his teeth, and based on the way her teeth sank into her lower lip, he wasn’t the only one affected. Two could play the bravado game.

His apartment had turned into a kingdom of old mail and empty glasses, and he smelled like grease and sweat from the kitchen—great impression he’d make.

“You want to come over? Now?” he asked, disbelief causing his brows to rise.

Liv shrugged. “I don’t want to see some trussed up version of you, Z. You might think I’ll scare away easily, but we knew each other once, and I thought pretty well. If you’re crashing back into my life, I don’t want the mask you put on for this place or whatever girls you wine and dine—I want the real deal.”

A bitter smile graced his face. “You say that now, but I can promise you you’ll end up disappointed. I’m not the guy you knew once upon a time, and you can search hard and long but you’re not going to find him.”

“And I’m not the same girl either,” she challenged, fire melting the ice blue of her gaze. “So let’s stop with the bullshit. We’re both adults, we’re both single, and if we choose to have some fun, then that’s on us. No one’s asking you for your deep darks, but if we’re spending any kind of time together, I won’t tolerate fake.”

He shook his head, charmed by the raw way she spoke, at how her emotions bled onto the pavement without even trying. Liv breathed life in the way a husk like him had forgotten how to feel while the urges itching under his nails on a regular basis threatened to consume him. Rock bottom wasn’t a pretty place.

“If you’re so determined to see my shit-hole of a place, then follow me,” he said, tilting his head towards the street before taking the lead out of the alley. “I live up the street.”

As he strode down the sidewalk, she kept an easy pace with him despite her smaller size. She’d always speed-walked to keep up with Lex and him in the past, but the memories of his former best friend left jagged marks. Zane’s mind whirled with a thousand and one worries, and the urge to grab a bottle of anything at the Liquor Mart along the way created a constant pounding in the back of his skull. When any stressor reared its ugly head, the urge to drink returned in full force. His sponsor said with time and effort, control grew a little easier, the pounding less intense, but he understood he would be fighting this battle for the rest of his life.

Not the sort of struggle anyone else signed up for.

“You had to wait until I was done with work?” he asked, lifting his brow. “We couldn’t do this another time when I don’t smell like I walked through a spice rack?”

Liv gave him the side eye. “Consider it punishment for being such a stubborn ass.”

“My lord, woman,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. He pinched the chip in his right pocket, always his reminder. “You’re pure evil.”

Damn if her satisfied smirk didn’t make him hard. The swing of her hips as she walked alongside him and the too familiar scent of her caused him to rev on all cylinders. He’d grown used to fear from guys or coy flirting from women, not this brazen sass Liv didn’t hesitate to throw his way. She teased in a raw, unapologetic way, which most might mistake for confidence. He could sense the undercurrent behind the bold show, though—the desperate act of someone who had nothing to lose.

Whatever had happened since he last saw her added a hesitancy to her steps and iced over those once clear eyes. She wielded sarcasm with a bitter whip, and he recognized his own tactics a mile away. Curiosity kept him in the game, even when he should have been walking the other way.

Already, the smell of grease and cheese wafting his way from the pizzas at Slice of Heaven made his stomach rumble. Although he’d spent all night preparing meals for the patrons, he’d been so busy he hadn’t eaten. He glanced over to catch Liv’s eyes on him, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Why a chef?” she asked, stretching her arms behind her back as they slowed. “Thought you were interested in engineering way back when—you used to ace your math and science classes.”

Zane rifled a hand through his hair, loosening the knot he’d pulled it into while at work. The past left a bitter film on his tongue. Back in high school, even with the problems going on at home, a big, bright future had sprawled out ahead of him. All too fast those outlooks had narrowed until he counted himself lucky to survive to the next day.

“Jail time is what happened,” he said as they headed down the alley to the aluminum steps leading to his apartment. “Turns out a felony isn’t much of a resume booster. See what I mean by this whole thing’s a big waste of time? College grad like you has options.” The steps rattled as he led the way up, but when a second pair of footsteps didn’t follow, he paused and turned around.

Liv stood at the bottom clutching the railing tight, refusing to look at him. “Not if you dropped out,” she muttered.

Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. Way to make her feel like shit, asshole. He wasn’t just a fuck-up, but a grade-A jerk.

“Well then you’ve qualified to hang out in my shit-shack with me. Come on up and we can bitch about the plutocracy.” He leaned against the railing around his landing, his grip tightening. Liv’s lips pursed before she looked at him, the spark returning to her eyes. She moved up his steps with effortless grace, the slight rattle of the aluminum the only indication—nothing like the way he stomped up with creaks and groans abounding.

Zane opened his door, greeted by the stale darkness inside the place that had been vacant for a good part of the day. A hiss sounded through the apartment, the Glade plug-in he’d nabbed from the grocery store squirting some fresh and clean scent. Flicking on the light, dim amber rays illuminated the threadbare maroon couch that had seen better years and the scratch-and-dent coffee table from Goodwill. Most of the time he was too busy escorting visitors to his bedroom to give a damn what they thought about his furniture choices, but he ducked his head as she entered, and he quick-stepped to the kitchen in an attempt to lead her away.

Liv didn’t seem to be paying his furniture any attention though, the full force of her gaze remaining glued on him. The tension made the room seem that much smaller, like it shrunk a little more every second their eyes locked.

Zane opened up the fridge, the chill cooling off his heated skin. “What can I get you to drink? I’ve got raspberry seltzer, orange juice, or tea.”

“What happened to your undying love of IPAs?” Liv asked, leaning against the short amount of counter space in his cramped kitchen. “You used to slam those things like nobody’s business.”

A flush of shame hit his cheeks, making him grateful for the cover of his tan skin. Zane hunched in front of the fridge, warring like he always did with blurting out the truth or making up some bullshit. Most folks blanched when you broadcast your inability to imbibe alcohol without becoming a raging waste of life; even if they gave the polite nod or murmur of understanding, judgment followed in their eyes every time.

“Don’t drink anymore,” he settled on the truth, even if he skated the edges of the whole, ugly story. “Not like that.”

“I’ll take the seltzer then, rockstar,” she said with a wink, allaying the awkwardness in his statement.

He snagged the bottle from the fridge and glanced to her. “You hungry at all?”

“You just got off your shift, Z. I’m not going to make you work some more.” She shook her head, even though her stomach rumbled in response.

A smile curved his lips. “Quit playing martyr. I’ve got leftovers I can heat for us.” He dipped into his fridge and pulled out some containers. After turning the oven on, he slid the glass containers inside—he’d made a couple more servings than necessary the other day, he tended to do that a lot. The downside of the love for cooking he’d cultivated was the lack of people to share said meals with. At the end of the day, he sat by his lonesome, scarfing food under the half-burnt lightbulb in his living room.

“To think, you were right under my nose all this time,” Liv said, shaking her head, a rueful smile on her face as she rested her palms behind her on the granite-lined countertop.

“You still living in Indian Hills like your folks?” Zane asked, pouring them each a glass of seltzer water. As he passed the tumbler over to her, their hands brushed. The connection sizzled so electric, so igniting he almost dropped the glass. A mere touch from her lit his veins on fire, and based on the way her full lips pursed and she scanned the length of him, he wasn’t alone in his reaction.

Liv knocked back the glass, drinking the seltzer like water. Her tongue snuck out as she licked her upper lip, and he watched the motion, desperate to taste her. “Nah, moved to Meadowlane Apartments right outside the city post-college. Since I’ve got gigs all over the place, it’s been a solid location.”

The oven added to the heat blooming between them. The hunger in Liv’s eyes had nothing to do with the food he warmed up for them, and everything to do with the stolen kisses of teenagers and the unresolved way they had left things. Even with the fair share of women Zane had tangled with through the years, he had always yearned for her and never forgotten the unique connection they’d shared.

Liv rummaged through his kitchen, peeking into the unlabeled canisters with the methodical curiosity that was always a part of her personality.

“See something you like?” he asked, lifting his brows.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tongue glided over her canine tooth in a liquid motion that sent his blood flowing south. He wanted her in the way he yearned for a glass of bourbon, a fury pounding through his bones, in his brain. When they were kids, they had to sneak around—Lex would have thrown a shitfit if he had seen them together. Not like that mattered in the slightest now. His former best friend hadn’t returned his calls since the day he got locked up.

The scents from the oven alerted his attention, and he grabbed a mitt before tugging the food out. “Hope you’re hungry—I keep my meals portioned and plated out of habit.” Not like he tried to impress—at least not too hard—but the way her eyes widened at the sight of the food gave him silent satisfaction.

“All right, chef-boy—throw your fancy lingo at me. What am I digging into?” she asked after she peered at the plate he pushed her way.

His lips quirked in a smile—he’d been working at an upscale restaurant long enough to have learned the terms. “Smoked Alaskan salmon with a side of brown butter gnocchi and Swiss chard with slivered almonds. Granted, it tastes a helluva lot better fresh.”

Liv speared a forkful of salmon, lifting the bite to her mouth and closing her eyes as she savored it. The moan that came from her was sinful, not helping the dirty-as-hell thoughts taking up space in his head. “Fuck being an engineer, Z. You’ve got talent here.”

He dug in to hide his smile and the way her comment warmed him to the bones. The salmon reheated well, and the brown butter gnocchi tasted just as good as the other day, the nutty notes melding with the hint of parmesan and black pepper. Silence spread through his kitchen, but not the awkward sort, as they dove into the food with the abandon of vultures to roadkill. He remembered how, back in the day, he’d sat in the basement of the Morozov’s house, digging into a pizza with Liv and Lex, and he missed those casual shared meals in a fierce way.

“You have any of your latest work?” he asked as he finished off the last bits of salmon, dropping the plate into his kitchen sink. “I’d love to see what you’ve been doing with photography.”

A blush stained her cheeks, and she tucked a couple strands of hair behind her ear as she passed him to deposit her plate in the same spot. She stopped where she stood, an inch away as she lifted her chin to look him in the eye. So close, he could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks and feel her intensity.

“I missed you like crazy, Z.” The gravity in her voice arrested him on the spot. His breath hitched, and even though he knew he should step away, even though he knew the inevitable next step, he couldn’t. The magnetic pull he felt towards her defied reason, and that subtle scent of citrus had him spellbound. He rested his hand along the curve of her waist, ready to tug her towards him.

Liv lunged in—those lips pressed to his and all restraint flew out the door.