At the botanic gardens, the cherry trees are in full bloom and the champagne brunch fills me up, but not in a way that gives me any satisfaction. Gwen and I have a great time, yet for some reason, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s enough for me anymore. Needless to say, I’m not loving this realization. And I’m still not loving it when it comes time to drive her home to Cherry Valley.

I toss my packed duffel bag into the back of my truck, and it’s not until we hit the road to CV that Gwen remarks on it.

“Are you staying in the guesthouse on the Climax property or something?”

I sit back in my seat, concentrating on my driving instead of the scent of my own shampoo floating to me from her hair. “Yeah, I’m crashing there again. I’ve got work tomorrow, so I figured I’d save myself the extra miles.”

She’s quiet.

I slip her a glance. “Why? Did you want to stay over there with me? I mean, the lady of leisure does have another change of panties with her because of our shopping trip.”

She laughs. “Weren’t you lobbying for me to forget about wearing any panties?”

“I’ll lobby for that until the day I die.”

After a pause, she sighs. “What the hell. Count me in for the guesthouse.”

Stunned at how easy that was, I turn on the radio, because I’ve got too much to think about now, such as when I’m going to give Gwen the whole “I’m really not looking for anything serious” speech. I also need to mull real hard over why I’m beginning to not want to give it to her.

I think I might have done something stupid. I might have already gone and started liking her … or something that scares me even more. Great. This was supposed to a no-strings-attached thing, so as the miles pass by, why do I catch myself wondering if she could ever feel something for me right back? If that’s a possibility, then it means trouble: screw giving her the speech about not getting serious about a woman — I’d have to tell her about my past. I’d have to worry about how she’s going to feel about hanging around with an ex-con who sold illegal drugs and had such bad taste in women that he literally got arrested for it. But …

Gwen wouldn’t judge me for all that, would she? She grew up with challenges, too. She also had a terrible dad and an overworked single mom and hard times. Maybe she didn’t make the same crap choices I did, but she might be able to understand why I made them. Right?

By the time we reach Cherry Valley and I pull into the Burger Bomb for some takeout, I’m only sure about one thing — I won’t be baring my soul about my past to Gwen anytime soon, not until I have a better read on how she might be feeling about the dipshit who went and attached strings to our fling.

She’s still oblivious to my dilemma when we get to the guesthouse. As we eat our burgers, fries, and shakes, she texts Grace that she won’t be home again tonight. What follows is a flurry of Grace teasing Gwen and trying to do the same to me. Meanwhile, I’m sitting across the kitchen table from her with a heartburn that has nothing to do with the food.

It gets even worse after we eat, when we both settle on the main room’s leather couch with our secondhand store books. I open up On the Road, and she sighs as she lies down with her head in my lap and starts reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Her hair, plus my shampoo in her hair, plus the way we’re hanging out as if we’re suddenly a couple, means that I keep reading the same three sentences over and over again.

This is bad.

When Gwen lays her book on her stomach and looks up at me, I feel those baby blue eyes burn right through my skin, and I set my book on the couch’s arm. For a second, I grapple with how much she’s changed in such a short time with me. I still can’t believe she’s here right now being so unguarded. Hell, her white skirt is even gathered near her upper thighs, and she isn’t hurrying to cover herself up like she might’ve done a couple days ago.

“What time do you have to start work tomorrow?” she asks.

“I’ll be up before the crack of dawn, but don’t let that bother you.”

She’s silent, and I trace one of the lighter streaks in her hair. I haven’t taken the time to look at those kinds of finer details about her, but now I can’t stop noticing stuff like the silver specks in her blue eyes and a tiny little mole near her ear.

“Are you going to do this job forever?” she finally asks.

“As long as I can. Why?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I just wonder when you finally have to admit that you’re doing what you were meant to do in life. There comes a morning when you wake up and find that, hey, this is your calling and you’re never going to be doing anything else.”

She sounds sad, as if she never thought that, at thirty years old, she would still be putting her heart, sweat, and tears into the diner.

“Good question, but I think I found my calling.” I don’t look into her eyes, because I’m afraid she might think I’m talking about her, too. Jesus. “I like what I do, and it’s given me enough money to make a respectable living. I think I’m even going to have enough money saved up to buy a second house here in Cherry Valley before property values get too ridiculous.”

“A house here and in Marloe?”

“Property is a good investment, and with the way CV is growing, I’d be an idiot not to see the potential.” And now that I think about it, Marloe is too far away from her.

Either I’m heavily addicted to the combustible sex we have or I’m a true goner.

When she goes quiet again, I tickle her under the chin. She smiles up at me, but she still seems pensive.

“What’s really wrong?” I ask.

“I guess I shouldn’t have brought up work. I’ve been trying to forget that, once you’re done with the diner, it’s back to the salt-and-pepper mines for me.”

“You hate the diner that much?”

“I’d say it’s more of a love-hate relationship. Part of me never knew what to do with myself without the diner open, but now I’m hating the thought of spending all my time there.”

Remember that one-man rescue unit that I am? Well, that guy’s back, and he wants to save Gwen and see her smiling again. I slip my hand over her shoulder, then into the opening of her shirt to her collarbone. I caress her there, seeing her gaze go from somber to warm.

“I’ve got more ideas about how to save you from the salt-and-pepper mine,” I say quietly.

“Do you?”

As I keep petting her, she moves one thigh against the other, and my libido takes restless notice. But I’m as serious as a heart attack about this.

“Besides getting healthy stuff on the menu and introducing some of those high-dollar meat and game items, Milton’s could have a small price hike to keep up with rising costs.”

“Our prices haven’t changed for years.” She says it as if she’s admitting that it’s not the best way to run a business.

“You could also serve good wine.”

She smiles. “Maybe from Climax?”

“Yeah. And you could even close completely on Mondays.”

Now she seems unconvinced. But she hasn’t pressed the ehhhh buzzer, so that’s a good thing. She’s open, not just to the ideas, but to me.

Just as I’m getting warmed up, sliding my fingers farther into her top and making her squirm on the couch, my phone rings from the end table. It’s a generic tone, and it’s always a good idea to answer rather than miss an important call. You never know.

“Don’t go anywhere, Hot Stuff.” I start to get up, and so does Gwen. She’s so close to me and smells so good that I give in to temptation and kiss her. Then I stand up all the way and grab that damned phone as she curls up on the couch with a smile and begins to read again.

With a long sigh, I answer the damned thing. “Hello?”

“Dude, you gotta help me. I’m in jail, and I need you to bail me out.”

I recognize the voice, and that means I need to take this outside. I don’t say anything else until I’ve closed the door behind me and I’m staring at the sun falling over the vineyards. “Jerry?”

“Yeah.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from him — not since the old days back in Krueger when I hung out with him and the other shitheads on the streets. Not since we were both stuck in jail together, and then when he was around to see me almost blow my new lease on life with Debra. Yup, he was there for the highlights. “Why’re you calling me?”

“I found your number because of your business, bro. I got no one else. I’m in the clink because I got busted for public drunkenness and fighting. I was only defending a chick. You of all people know how that is, but I’ve been doing so good for years. I swear. That damned cop who busted me only made things worse. I was really trying to do okay until this happened, man.”

I hang my head. Back in my boy wonder days, Jerry was a big reason I learned how to navigate the streets. He dealt high-grade meth-laced pot, and we ended up in the same prison. He looked out for me there like a big, bad brother. Even though Jerry has a shit side, he’s got a decent one, too, and if he’s desperate enough to ask me for help now …

Jesus, I can’t ignore him, especially if he’s been trying to duck out of that life.

I get his details, then go back into the guesthouse. Gwen is still reading, and she looks up at me with a smile.

“Hey.” I go to the counter and grab my wallet and keys. “I’ve got to do something.”

It’s been a while since I’ve seen that wrinkle between her eyebrows, and I hate that I’ve brought it back.

“It’s no big deal,” I say. “Just an errand for a friend who’s in a little trouble.” Friend. And here I thought I’d traveled so far from guys like Jerry.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No. Just relax here while I take care of this.”

I move to the couch and bend down to kiss her again. When I lean back from her, she’s still got that troubled wrinkle between her brows, and it guts me. There’s no getting around this anymore — she’s got me by the fine hairs, and I don’t think things are ever going to be the same again.

I cup the back of her head. “I’ll be back tonight.”

Then I start walking away. I’m definitely going to have some explaining to do real fucking soon.