Sara peered at her reflection in the cheval mirror. “How do I look?”

Kim studied the back of the long white gown with a fitted waist and sweetheart neckline. Tiny seed pearls decorated the bodice and short train. They’d lucked out finding something so lovely on such short notice. It helped that the woman who wore the dress shimmered brighter than any jewel.

“Like a fairy princess with bags under her eyes from not sleeping for three nights due to wedding worrying. In other words, awesome.”

“I see why Brad calls you the Kiminator,” Sara muttered, adjusting her veil. “Knocked down in two sentences flat.”

“Oh stop it. You’re absolutely gorgeous and I’m completely jealous because your waist is the size of my thigh. Guess I should look into some of those Zumba classes too.” Kim turned her best friend toward her and fussed with the tendril curls hanging in Sara’s expressive hazel eyes. “Brad’s going to die when he sees you.”

“I certainly hope not. That would put a damper on the honeymoon.”

Kim laughed and wrapped her arms around Sara, doing a little happy dance. “You’re going to be my sister for real. I can’t believe it.”

Sara sniffled and cupped Kim’s cheek. “I already was.”

“Oh crap. Here we go. And I was doing so well.” Kim waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Non-smear-proof mascara, okay? Don’t go there. No crying. All smiles. Speaking of smiling, check out that honker.” She seized Sara’s hand to ogle her round sapphire and diamond sparkler. “Kid brother did good.”

“He did.” Sara gave another misty sniff. “I tried to tell him I wanted something small but he didn’t listen.”

“He’s not supposed to when it comes to rings. Remember, bigger is always better in regards to rings, dicks and plates of barbeque. Anything else is negotiable.”

Sara laughed and glanced at Kim’s silver maid-of-honor dress. “Sorry I didn’t fulfill your ugly gown request. That looks incredible on you.”

“It’s the corset. Makes everything seem tight and perky. Gotta love the illusion.”

“No, it’s you. You’ve got that good sex glow going on.” Sara tilted her head. “So are you planning on moving Michael in or just playing sleepover buddies for a while?”

Kim skirted around her to pick up the blue handkerchief she’d pulled out of her grandmother’s old trunk for Sara. Grandma Cora had carried it in her own wedding. But instead of handing it over, she fingered the lacy fabric and stalled. “It’s only been a few weeks. I barely know the guy.”

“Then why is he practically living in your bedroom? Every morning I come downstairs and find him making breakfast and singing to Telmeister. I think my bird’s got a new love.”

Kim’s lips twitched. “He is pretty lovable.”

“Uh-huh. Evidence number sixty-nine that you have the serious hots for your shop stud. And let me add my encouragement to that. Mechanics give good lube.”

Kim snorted. “Moving past the serious ick factor of you referring to my baby brother that way, I should point out he’s not in my league.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he was a virgin when we met.”

“A virgin. Wow. You didn’t see fit to tell me this before?”

Kim shrugged and fussed with her hair. She couldn’t decide if her bun made her look matronly instead of formal. Being with a younger guy was exhausting. At least this younger guy since she had the specter of his former significant other to compete with—or not compete with, since she wanted there to be no comparisons at all between them. She intended to be the fun, lively girlfriend. Which she was naturally, until she overthought.

Fuck a duck.

“It never came up,” Kim said to the mirror, not meeting Sara’s gaze.

“But according to your dining room announcement, he’s not a virgin now, right?”

“Uh no.”

“Which, correct me if I’m wrong, kind of means you can…mold him in your own image. Train him right.” Sara grinned and patted Kim’s shoulder. “Sounds like the bonus round to me.”

All at once the conversation she’d had with Michael that day next to Telly’s cage came screaming back into focus. “Manipulation is one of those words people throw around to try to explain choices that defy convention. I was over eighteen. I knew what I was doing.”

Nausea swam in her belly and climbed up her throat. She wasn’t like Rochelle. He didn’t need to be manipulated or molded. The guy was perfect as is, with all of his endearing quirks. That’s what she’d meant by him not being in her league. He had no issue with keeping up with her sexually—whoa nelly, that was so not a problem—but his virginity spoke of an innocence that went beyond the physical. In spite of whatever good game he talked, he still believed in love. Still wanted it in his life. He was the kind of man who planned on forever. Steadfast. Honorable.

Basically, the anti-Kim.

She might be a good bet for today but for tomorrow? Next week? It was hard to say. Judging from her past track record, the odds weren’t good. She’d start picking fights and looking for flaws right before she made tracks for the door.

He’d already gotten a raw deal by her standards from the whole Rochelle situation, money aside. Yeah, that part was pretty great but he saved his money for his family and rarely spent any on himself. His truck was ten years old, for pity’s sake. Goodness like his shouldn’t be tainted by her crazy. The longer she led him on, the harder it would be when she inevitably let him go. He deserved a woman who still dreamed on stars and saw the world as her oyster rather than an overcooked scallop.

“How do you do it?” Kim whispered, staring at her reflection. Sure, she didn’t have a ton of wrinkles yet. But any day now… “How do you get past thinking he’s settling by being with you?”

“Now there’s exactly what any woman wants to hear on her wedding day,” Sara said wryly, shaking her head. “Considering you look like you’re about to start sobbing, I’ll give you a pass.”

“It’s just wedding tears. You know.”

“Sure it is.” Sara sighed. “I do it by listening to him when he tells me he loves me. I see it in his eyes when we touch. I do my best to be a good partner to him as he does for me. It’s not about cellulite or gray hair or bags under the eyes. Which I do not have, thank you very much. You’re lucky I love you or else I’d have to shiv you on my wedding day.”

Kim had to laugh as she turned to embrace her best friend. “You’re right.” And she was, for her and Brad. They’d known each other for years. Their love had been tested. She didn’t have any right thinking such deep thoughts about her and Michael when he might be halfway to hitting the road for all she knew.

Even if he kept casually but not casually mentioning the roominess of Kim’s house and how it would feel even bigger after Brad and Sara moved away. All coincidental like.

Even if she’d sort of cleaned out two drawers for him and began stocking his preferred brand of cereal and toothpaste.

Even if he stayed over every night—and she wanted him there.

None of that had to mean any more than she wanted it to. At the moment, she wanted it to mean she was dating a nice guy who had an uncanny ability at fucking her into oblivion. Not because she’d trained him—she’d given up such insanity early on after it became apparent his instincts were better than any instruction she could provide—but because he cared enough about her to take his time and always consider her needs.

She only hoped she would continue to do the same.

“You’re right,” Kim repeated, tucking the blue handkerchief into Sara’s hand. “Now let’s go get you married.”

Sara’s eyes filled. “Am I ready?” She gestured to herself. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like a dream and my brother’s one hell of a lucky SOB.”

Sara grinned. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Kim held out her arm. “Let’s take you to Brad.”

Sara nodded, face glowing. Her tears gleamed on her lashes like tiny diamonds, making Kim’s heart turn over in her chest. “Yes. Let’s.”

The ceremony went by too fast. They’d staged it in the living room of their home, only inviting their closest friends and family. Sara’s father had passed not that long ago but her mother sat on a folding chair near the makeshift aisle, dabbing her eyes. Other friends from the sanctuary and their neighbors filled the room with laughter and conversation until the wedding march—provided by one of Brad’s coworker’s daughters on her keyboard—began. Bob stood in as best man and led Kim up the aisle, then it was Sara’s turn, escorted by Ted, one of the older zoologists from the sanctuary.

Standing at the end of the aisle, Sara paused, smiling broadly at Brad. Her brother grinned back, eyes damp. He looked so handsome and so freaking grown up in his suit that Kim couldn’t help sniffling into her bouquet of white and peach roses.

Her baby brother was getting married. To Sara, the closest friend she’d ever had.

This was the best day ever.

As Sara walked toward her brother, Kim’s gaze veered toward the second row of folding chairs. To Michael. He wore a steel gray suit that did amazing things for his dark hair and eyes. His smile eased the stomach muscles she hadn’t realized had gone tight with nerves. She wanted this day to be perfect for the people she loved. Sharing it with Michael, seeing the affection on his face, made an incredible moment even better.

She smiled at him and shifted to exchange a loving glance with her brother before turning to watch Sara finish her glide down the aisle. Brad held out a hand to his wife-to-be and pulled her close, holding her against him as the minister read their vows. And after they said their “I Dos” and the tears started—Sara’s and hers—she sought Michael again, needing to link with him in some small way. Only to find he was staring right back.

Laughter rang out after Sara and Brad’s first kiss as a married couple. All at once, the guests swarmed them, Kim included. She kissed them both and then stepped back to allow others their turns, retreating until she bumped into a solid, unmoving mass. Already smiling, she looked up, certain who she would find.

“You look gorgeous.” Michael brushed his mouth over hers, steadying her immeasurably. “Even prettier than the bride, though she’s stunning.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely.” He linked his arms around her waist and together, they turned to watch Sara and Brad make their rounds. The music started and as couples paired off, they swayed in their little corner. “Come on. Dance with me.”

“Naked rumba?” she teased.

“That’ll be later.” He spun her out and back. “For now I want to put my hands all over you while people can see.”

Her belly fluttered. He was going to be the death of her. “Kinky bastard.”

“When it comes to you? Hell yeah.”

The night sped by, full of dancing with her favorite guy and conversation and a little too many canapés. By the time they waved goodbye to Brad and Sara, who were headed to the airport for their New York City honeymoon weekend, she was tired and flushed and stuffed on happiness. Many of the guests were trickling out already. Though the party diehards would probably rage on for another hour or so, she was rapidly losing steam. The idea of going upstairs to cuddle with Michael far from prying eyes appealed to her on too many levels.

His lips coasted over her temple. “Want to go take a walk outside? It’s a nice night.”

“And leave the party?”

“Just for a minute. Besides, it’s getting quieter, and I can tell you need to regroup.” He linked their fingers over her waist. “Or maybe you’d rather take that walk alone. I’ll make your excuses if you’d like to escape for a bit.”

Kim shut her eyes, shocked he could know her so well already. It had only been a few weeks. Yet he read her like a book, every time. That knowledge was both comforting and frightening as hell.

Just as much was the realization she did want that walk—with him. Going alone didn’t sound nearly as attractive as it would have a month ago.

But that was exactly why she nodded and slipped out of his embrace. She shouldn’t get used to relying on him too much. “Yeah, I think I’ll just go out and sit in the backyard by myself for a few. You enjoy yourself in here.”

He squeezed her hand. “I will. Take your time.”

“Thanks.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She slipped out the side door and headed out back to the picnic table covered up for winter. She set aside the cover and sat gingerly on the ice-cold bench, lifting her gaze to the star-sprinkled sky. Out in the crisp, clear air, it was so much easier to think. Inside the emotions had overwhelmed her, crowding her brain and heart until she was too full. For this instant, she was just Kim again, at peace.

Everything was going to be okay. Better than okay. Her brother was so happy and her new sister-in-law truly was her sister. As for her and Michael, they would be fine too. She wasn’t going to force the issue either way. As long as it worked for them to be together, they would be.

Maybe she would even tell him her concerns about him finding someone younger to date, someone more like himself. She shouldn’t be selfish. Brad was always teasing her about that for good reason. Now would be a fine time to demonstrate her maturity. She’d just go inside and finish spending a pleasant evening with a man she cared about as well as her friends, then later on, share her misgivings in a calm, even-tempered fashion. No drama. However he responded, she would accept.

Mind made up, she smiled and marched back inside. The night wind had dusted out the cobwebs. She was worrying for nothing. Today was a day of celebration and she was going to get her party on.

She walked into the living room, seeking Michael. He’d probably taken the opportunity to get a couple minutes away himself. For all she knew, he’d snuck upstairs for a nap or something. She smiled and engaged in small talk with those who grabbed her on her journey across the room, all the while scanning for her date. The room was starting to clear out yet he was nowhere to be found. Strange. Perhaps her first guess had been accurate. She took a quick detour to the kitchen, intending to grab a couple of glasses of wine, and stopped dead.

Looked like she’d found her target.

He stood with his back to the island and the perky blonde evening clerk, Casey, from the sanctuary leaned too close, her wrists caught in his hands. They looked good together. Dark and light, two halves of a whole. Young, fresh. Their whole lives ahead of them. No one would wonder what he was doing with someone like her because it made sense. They matched, perfect bookends.

They shifted and for a second, Kim debated if he was trying to hold her off. If what she was seeing wasn’t an accurate picture at all. Then the tsunami of conflicting emotions she’d been battling for weeks surged through her and poured out of her throat.

“So sorry to interrupt,” she said loudly, causing Casey to stumble backward. “I wanted some wine. But never fear, we have open rooms available upstairs if you’d like more privacy.” She breezed past them and opened the refrigerator, tugging out the bottle of Riesling. “Excuse me.”

“Kim, what the hell?” Michael grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, holding her still so that she had no choice but to gaze up at his baffled features. The breadth of his chest and shoulders tripped her belly muscles as it often did, though this time she gave her daffy female reaction in the face of supreme male hotness no quarter. “Casey and I were just talking.”

“Touch talking. Is that like touch typing? You close your eyes to sound out the words?” She shoved away from him to set down the bottle of wine, well aware somewhere in the back of her mind that she was overreacting. She didn’t intend to listen to that more sensible part of her brain.

Fact was, she’d been holding too much in for too long. Now that the cork had been pulled, she couldn’t stop the stream.

She glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of Casey. No such luck. She’d vanished at the first sign of trouble.

“You’re being ridiculous. She was just—”

“She was just touching you. Admit it. You were holding her wrists because they’d either been on you or they were about to be.” She whirled back and glared. The obvious pinch around his eyes and mouth didn’t help mitigate what he’d called her. Ridiculous. That criticism had been leveled at her by exes—especially her ex-husband—too often. She was too excitable, too emotional, too selfish.

Well, fuck it all, she might as well exalt in her flaws. It had only been a matter of time until the real Kim reemerged, right? One of her famous meltdowns was long overdue.

“Yes, she touched me,” he said, stroking her upper arm the same way she’d seen him pet Telly’s head. Gingerly. “I think she thought I was single. Before you came in, I was explaining to her what the score was.”

“You are single.” Even as she said the words, he flinched. The same part of her that knew she’d need to pull on her hip boots to wade out of this mess tried to hold her off but stopping wasn’t an option. Locomotives didn’t slow down on a dime. They flattened whatever was in their path.

Including what they wanted more than anything.

“No,” Michael said, his voice scarcely more than breath. “I’m not. And if you think I’m going to let you snatch the first convenient excuse to end us, you’re mistaken.”

“Don’t use that tone on me. The patient, all-knowing one you’d use on your nieces or nephews. I may be ridiculous but I’m not a child to be managed.”

“You’re overreacting and I know why. You want out. Things are getting too intense between us so you’ll put up any roadblock you can. Including women I don’t even know and don’t care about.”

She shrugged jerkily, pivoting away. When he got too close, she couldn’t think. It became so much harder to care about what she wasn’t even sure she’d seen. Her anger was already flickering, like a flame caught in a breeze. If she didn’t focus, she’d lose it entirely and she’d have no choice but to admit the insecurities that had made her lash out in the first place.

Casey was cute. She smiled all the time and she had a tiny waist and no wrinkles. She was disturbingly even-tempered. No one ever called her the Kiminator—or the equivalent nickname for Casey. Kim was also willing to bet Casey’s brother probably didn’t think she had the emotional IQ of a killer robot.

And even if he did believe that, in Casey’s case he wouldn’t have been right.

Kim pushed her hands through her hair, scattering pins. Goodbye classy upsweep. Hello shrewdo. “You should be with someone your own age. That’s not ridiculous, that’s reality. We’re worlds apart. Fourteen years is more than half of your life.” She swiveled toward him, the stark pain in his eyes pulling her up short. “Face facts. In fifteen years, I’m going to be getting free senior breakfasts and you’ll be barely cruising toward middle age. Do you really want to be the guy stuck with grandma for the rest of your life? Didn’t you play that role once already?”

When he didn’t respond, she went over to him and reached up to cup his cheeks. “You might not believe this now but I’m doing this for you. Walking in here when I did showed me that with sterling clarity.” She let out a shaky exhale. “You need to experience more than I can give you. All you’ve ever known is shackles. I don’t want to put more on you before you understand what you’re giving up.” She swallowed hard, realizing it was the truth. Running neck-and-neck with her jealousy was the desire to protect him—to make sure he got what he needed. And damn straight, it hurt that it might not be her. It hurt like a bitch.

But if she had to be the one to do the right thing, she would. For him she’d do it.

“Your freedom is the kindest gift I can give you,” she whispered.

“What if I don’t want it?” he demanded harshly. “What then?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her feet rooted to the floor. Leaving was the last thing she wanted. This was her house and she was the host of her brother’s wedding and reception. A reception that technically still wasn’t over, though it was definitely waning. Sara’s mom could be counted on to hold down the fort but that wasn’t the point. Asking him to leave wasn’t fair and she couldn’t do it. In a short time she’d begun to associate Michael with her home. His presence there felt as vital as oxygen. Somehow he belonged there as much as she did.

But if she didn’t walk out the door, literally and figuratively, he’d never believe her words would stick. She barely believed it herself. Her want for him burned in her belly, furious and unrelenting. Even fighting with him had only increased her need.

Only one thing could make her move—the memory of the hesitant smile he’d worn for that split second before she’d glimpsed him holding Casey’s wrists. That boyish smile deserved a chance at more. Maybe more than she could give him, even if she tried. She might rage at him for daring to wish for it, but she’d never deny him. She wasn’t Rochelle. She would never try to put him under glass for her amusement.

Never allow him to stay there to indulge his.

“Let me go,” she murmured. “For your sake if not mine.”

He gripped her hands on his face, held them tightly enough to bruise. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, slashes of pure black. Fury and so much more roiled in their depths. He’d never been truly angry around her before. And he was hurt. She could taste his bitterness as sharply as the wine she hadn’t poured.

Shutting his eyes, he dropped his hands. “So go.”

She pressed her lips together and walked away, weaving through the handful of people that still milled through her house. She managed to hold it together until she reached the front porch. Then she saw the swing and remembered sitting there with him in the stillness, feeling a peace she’d so rarely known. She hadn’t been lonely in his arms.

But she was now.

She headed to her car, her only intention to drive until her heart numbed. She put on her usual soundtrack of “I hate men” music and sang along, determined to soldier through the same way she always did. There was no reason to cry. No excuse for mourning something she’d never really had.

With no destination in mind, she pressed the accelerator. The night landscape whizzed by her window. Houses gave way to trees and land until she cruised past a home she never would’ve aimed for consciously. But there she was, idling outside Michael’s place, her gaze lingering on the lighted windows before dropping to the sign near the road.

For Sale by owner.

Her breath caught and she pressed her fist over her mouth to stifle a cry. He’d done it. His bravery in taking a step he clearly hadn’t been sure about made her eyes swim. And where was she? Running again.

Always running.

She glanced in the rearview and caught a glimpse of her bleak eyes. She hadn’t seen that look on her own face since…ever. Not even when she ended things with her ex-husband. She’d been past the pain by the time she’d signed on those dotted lines. This was all too fresh. And it wouldn’t be getting better anytime soon. Every time she pictured the pain etched on Michael’s face before she walked out of the kitchen, she had to fight back tears. The For Sale sign she couldn’t stop staring at didn’t help.

Doing him a favor was one thing, screwing up supposedly for his benefit quite another. She wasn’t exactly the best at staying the course. Fleeing had long been her default reaction. Like tonight. The only difference was she’d never questioned her actions so swiftly before. She’d been arguing with herself even before she’d arrived at his house but now she couldn’t silence the shriek in her head that warned her to turn around.

God, had she made a colossal mistake?

So what did it matter that she wasn’t a nubile young thang? She had plenty of life left to live. She’d never try to hold him down. No matter what. She wasn’t like that—and she also wasn’t the sort of woman who searched for her own deficiencies. Since when did she compare herself to other women? She had enough self-esteem to know that she had a hell of a lot to bring to the table. And the bed and the floor…

Blowing out a breath, she changed songs. Enough of the moaning and chest-pounding girl anthems. They weren’t what she needed tonight. Especially since he hadn’t messed up. She had. He’d been right about her looking for an out. She wished it wasn’t true. But it was.

She hadn’t felt this emotional and out-of-sorts in too long to remember. He made her want to risk more than anyone had in years. The scene in the kitchen aside, she didn’t really think he couldn’t be trusted. Even the fact he hadn’t told her about selling the house didn’t concern her because she already knew the explanation. He wouldn’t have wanted her to freak out about what selling his home meant for them. Because she would have.

Michael got her. Right down to the ground.

She could put her faith in him. She knew if she turned the car around and went back to the party, he’d still be there holding it all together because that was the kind of guy he was. Solid gold all the way through. Sure, he had baggage. Who didn’t? He also handled his life—and the people in it—with more maturity and grace than people twice his age.

Her on the other hand…

No. She wasn’t going to do that anymore. She had a lot going for her. Exceptional hair. Good brain, when it wasn’t stuffed with stupid insecurities and bad habits. Apparently she even had a willingness to admit she was wrong. So wrong.

It wasn’t her decision to make. He was an adult. If he wanted to walk, she would let him. But she sure as hell wouldn’t push him out because she couldn’t stand the idea of him realizing he needed to go first.

If she truly cared about him as much as she said, she wouldn’t shove him away with both hands—she’d let the choice be his. As it was hers.

By fuck, she was choosing him.

She gripped the wheel in one hand and flipped on her turn signal. She hadn’t been gone that long. After making her excuses to the remaining partygoers, she’d try to explain her mindset to Michael. She’d also apologize. A lot.

Halfway back, she stopped at a light then stepped on the pedal when it changed. Only when the engine sputtered and clunked to a stop did she see the glowing gas pump symbol on her dash. Perfect. She’d forgotten to fill her tank. Didn’t that figure?

Looking up, she narrowed her eyes on the rain slipping slowly down her windshield. She reached for her purse before recalling that she hadn’t brought it with her on her flight from the house. Which meant she also didn’t have her cell phone.

She rotated her ankle, remembering the skyscraper heels she’d chosen to go with her dress. Looked like she’d have to work to make it back to Michael.

He was worth it.

* * *

Michael rejoined the party in the living room, his polite smile back in place. It was the smile he’d used on Casey when she’d tried to wrap her arms around his neck, all playful sensuality. She’d been halfway to drunk and probably not even entirely aware of who she was hitting on. He’d known that. Kim hadn’t. Then again, she hadn’t asked. She wouldn’t have, because she’d taken the awkward moment she’d walked in on as an excuse to leave him.

Nothing lasted forever. He knew that better than most. Not even when it felt so right that every moment without her seemed wrong in comparison.

Standing in Kim’s living room when she wasn’t there rubbed him raw, bringing forth a rare violence inside him. He ached to sweep his arm over the mantle and send the family heirlooms flying. Just crack them to pieces. This wasn’t his home. What did he care? She’d walked out and left him. Worse, she’d acted as if he was too stupid to know his own mind and heart.

Did she think he saw her as a new version of Rochelle? Could she be that foolish? They were miles from each other in every way.

He bunched his fists and closed his eyes, fighting his emotions back in line. As much as he wanted to get out of there, he couldn’t. A few stragglers remained and the owners of the house weren’t in residence. Someone had to be responsible. Sara’s mother shouldn’t be left to handle the reception she’d attended as a guest. That wasn’t how family should be treated. Since Kim wasn’t around, he’d do what needed to be done in her stead.

Because it was the right thing to do.

And because he loved her, timeline be damned.

So what if they’d only known each other a few weeks? That number was no different than the years that separated them. He’d been on his own too much to search for reasons to shut her out. He’d rather seek ways to let her in.

When the last of the guests had been ushered out and Mrs. Carmichael had disappeared into her bedroom upstairs, Michael took a step he wished he didn’t have to. He didn’t have any fucking choice. Only one person knew Kim all the way down to the ground. Even Sara wouldn’t have the same knowledge.

He called Brad. On his honeymoon. At one thirty in the morning. Worry for Kim superseded any concerns he had about bothering his boss. She was more important.

After Michael brought him up to speed on Kim taking off mid-party, Brad yawned. Loudly. “Let me guess. She gave you some speech about you not being to blame? It’s not you, it’s me type stuff?”

Michael frowned. “No, not really.”

“Huh. Okay. Did she tell you that she wasn’t ready to settle down?”

“Nope.”

Brad made a noise in his throat. “All right, what did she say?”

Michael ran through the kitchen conversation as quickly as possible.

Brad made more thoughtful noises. Then he sighed. “Sorry, bro. My sister has officially flipped the script. We’re in new territory for the Kiminator.”

“Maybe you calling her that doesn’t help. She’s more sensitive than she lets on. You acting like her emotions don’t make sense probably only makes her react more strongly.”

And you said she was being ridiculous. Dick move much?

Brad was quiet for a while. “You might be right,” he said finally.

“I did the same thing. I belittled her feelings.” Michael rubbed his forehead. “So what do I do now?”

“Give her some space and go after her once you’ve both had time to cool off.”

“Shouldn’t I let her come back to me when she’s ready?”

Brad chuckled. “Good luck there. Kim doesn’t come back for anyone. She’s as stubborn as a goat and as ornery as a boar when she’s mad. She’d wait out God himself.”

“Herself,” Sara corrected in the background.

Michael had to grin. “Yeah, well, I’m stubborn too. Maybe she just hasn’t met her match yet.” Or doesn’t realize she has.

“Like I said, good luck. And keep me posted. Text next time, though. I might be otherwise…engaged.”

“Thanks. You and Sara enjoy your honeymoon.”

“We will.” Furious whispering erupted on Brad’s end of the line. “Hey man, wait. We have a surprise for Kim. Maybe you should tell her. If you guys get back together, that is.”

“What surprise?” Michael asked warily.

“It involves Telly. Our new apartment in Laramie is pet-free.”

Michael smiled. At least one good thing had happened tonight. Telly would be sticking around.

A few minutes later, he clicked off the call and took one last glance out the window at the dark, silent street.

God, where was she? Was she okay? If she hadn’t shown up by morning, he was going out to look. She could be hurt somewhere. He refused to take that chance.

Not with her.

At the sound of the door opening and closing, he turned around. And stared at Kim.

Wet, bedraggled, absolutely beautiful Kim.

“It rained,” she said with a sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of her gown over her ruddy, mascara-smeared cheek. “Turns out I don’t melt but sometimes I run.”

Her lame attempt at a joke only made him frown harder as he moved forward to wrap her in the blanket he grabbed from the sofa. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you out of those damp clothes.”

Instead of arguing or firing back a snappy comeback, she just leaned against him. “You’re still here. Why did I know you would be?”

His hands stilled with the blanket halfway around her. “Because you correctly pegged me as a sucker?”

“No. You take care. That’s just what you do. I don’t want you to get stuck taking care of me. You deserve more than that.” She shook her head, her gaze drifting to the blanket resting on her shivering shoulders. “It’s happening already.”

“Taking care of someone you care about—and who cares about you in return—isn’t a chore. It’s a gift. And who’s to say you don’t take care of me too? That’s what a relationship is supposed to be. Give and take.”

“Yeah. I’m getting to that.” Her sigh stirred her wet hanks of hair. “I drove around and guess where I ended up? Your house,” she said before he could guess. “I saw the sign.”

“Yes.” He tucked her blanket closer to her throat. “If you’re going to say I should’ve told you—”

“No. If you’d told me before, I would’ve run faster. Part of taking care is knowing how to deliver the truth in the best way for the other person. Not necessarily for you. I’m sure you wanted to tell me right away.”

He shifted his feet, more than a little surprised she’d guessed that. “Yes. I did.”

“But you waited, for me. Because you knew that instead of being proud of you for taking a big step, I’d make it all about me and shove you away.” She cupped his hand, squeezing lightly. “Smart cookie.”

“It would’ve been a natural reaction. I kept dropping hints about moving in here…”

“Hints I’ve been wanting to take you up on.” She met his gaze squarely. Not shying away in the slightest.

That was his Kim, strong and fierce and facing her life head-on.

“After I saw that sign, I knew we needed to talk,” she continued. “I’d started to figure it out anyway but that proved it. On the way back, lo and behold, my gas light comes on. I was not near home. I walked many miles in these shoes.” She lifted her foot and wiggled her strappy heel. “If this burning in my calves stops and I can still move tomorrow, I’m signing up for Sara’s Zumba classes. For real this time.” She held up three fingers like a Scout.

“You forgot to put gas in the car? Really, Kim?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You should’ve called.”

“I might’ve, had I remembered to bring my phone. Alas, I did not. So I walked.”

“What if—”

“What if someone accosted the wet pissed-off woman swearing with every step? Yeah right. I would’ve liked to see a bastard try.”

He laughed. Simply had no choice. Just like he had no choice but to pull her close. “I know I’m supposed to wait my turn but I can’t. I need to know now. Do I get another chance?”

“To fill me up?”

Dirty images invaded his mind and they had nothing to do with making sure she gassed up properly. “Sure. Call it whatever you like.”

“That depends.” She spoke against his throat.

“On what?”

She eased back, her big brown eyes as damp as her skin. “Do I?”

His heart squeezed and he buried his face in the damp ropes of her hair. “God, yes.” Swallowing hard, he cupped her face in his hands. “Do you know how worried I was about you? I never should’ve let you leave.”

“It all worked out in the end. The walk definitely cleared out my head.” A tear tracked down her cheek, dripping into his palm. “Though I have to admit I didn’t appreciate getting all that extra time to plan my speech.”

“I bet. Ouch.” He winced and glanced at her shoes again. Sexy shoes, undoubtedly. Worth the pain of a long walk, probably not. “You could’ve probably flagged someone down with a phone.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s time I dig myself out of my messes.”

“You’ve always dug yourself out. That’s why I fell for you in the first place. One of the reasons anyway.” He stroked her temple. She brought out the need to touch in him every time she was in his arms—and even when she wasn’t. “I’m sorry. You have to be hurting.”

“I am. In more ways than one.” She let out a long breath and slid her fingers around his wrist, still framing her jaw. “Not many men would’ve stayed to handle the party after I stormed out.”

“I’m not most men.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “No freaking kidding. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But if this is just about gratitude—”

“No. It’s not. I didn’t want you to let me go. And I don’t want you to sleep with a beautiful young chippie without cellulite, varicose veins or crow’s feet. That’s what expensive anti-aging creams and Botox are for. Plus I’m now taking Zumba. I expect to be insanely flexible by Christmas.”

He rubbed her lower lip, so grateful for her it took a moment to find his voice. “That so?”

“Yes. Though it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you said that you like me the way I am. I really wouldn’t mind.”

“I do like you just as you are.” He tipped up her face to his. “Actually that was a lie,” he said, enjoying her momentary pout. “And while we’re on the subject of them, I told one that night in my living room. I said that any man other than me would find you easy to fall for. That was a fucking whopper. So that makes three major lies I’ve told you. Four if you count the house. Because not only do I like you as you are, I love you. I think I loved you when you were texting obscenities at your ex and kicking your tire that first night—”

“Shut up.” Arching onto her tiptoes, she grabbed his face and covered his mouth with hers. Silencing everything but the wild beat of his heart and the breath he couldn’t hold back at the sensation of her warm, wet lips caressing his. Everything he’d ever wanted existed in the simplicity of their lips moving together.

When she finally pulled back, he dropped his forehead to hers. “Let’s go upstairs and fuck it out.”

Chuckling, she sagged in his embrace. With relief or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell. Maybe both. “Michael.”

“Don’t Michael me. I’m not a child. I know what I feel. You make me laugh. You make me happy in a way I’ve never been. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Infatuation is—”

“Not this,” he interrupted. “I see your flaws. Believe me, I see them.”

Easing back, she frowned. “Hey there.”

“I have them too. I’m not blind to yours or mine. But they don’t turn me off. Your flaws are gorgeous to me because they’re part of the whole. You can’t have a sunrise without the night. Your daybreak is worth every cloud.”

“Damn, don’t sweet talk me into submission. It’s so not fair.”

“It is fair. Everything is if it’ll keep you in my bed.” His lips quirked. “Or me in yours. I’m not fussy.”

“It’s too soon,” she whispered. “What if these feelings wear off?”

“What if? They feel really spectacular right now. I’m in no hurry to rush them along.” He smoothed his thumb over her wet cheek. “Are you?”

“No. I’m not. God, I’m so sorry. I practically pushed you into Casey’s arms.” She stroked his wrist, her watery eyes searching his. “You must’ve thought I didn’t care at all.”

“Actually it was the first time I was certain you did. You wouldn’t have gotten so mad if you weren’t jealous. But in case you still aren’t certain, I’m not interested in Casey. She was drunk and flirting with me, and you saw me trying to push her away. You’ll never have to worry if you can trust me. If I make a promise, I keep it.”

She lowered her head, blinking furiously. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Possibly not,” he said. When her gaze snapped back up, he grinned. “Guess you’ll have to work double-time to make sure you’re worth my while.” Circling her shoulders with his arm, he led her toward the stairs. “What was that you said about Zumba? When does that start?”

“Jerk.” Laughing, she punched him lightly in the side.

He waggled his brows. “Guess I have some stuff to make up to you too. Let’s go get started.”

“Wait.” She stopped. “We need to talk more about this.”

“Do you want me to tell you that you’re not taking Roch’s place in my life? That I don’t have some kind of fixation on older women or something?”

Her focus on his face never wavered. “Yes.”

“Fine.” He took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “You couldn’t be less like Roch if you tried. If I was trying to find another one of her, you’d be my last choice. You’re a piss-poor replacement.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“The only people in this hallway are you and me. Let’s enjoy that for a while and stop inviting unwanted guests, okay?”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy. I’m falling for you.” Already fallen, he amended silently. “Your brother and best friend got married. And evidently, I need to keep an eye on your car right down to the gas tank.”

Her lips tugged upward. “One of those things is not like the others.”

“No. I’m also not like the other men you’ve been with.” He thought of what Brad had said about Kim’s usual speeches. They didn’t apply here. He would prove to her that she had made the right choice. “I’m going to be the best man I can be every day we’re together. You deserve a man worth holding on to.”

“You already are that man. It’s just… Michael, the last time I moved this fast with a guy, I got knocked up and married within a month. That didn’t end well.”

“This is different. We had a wedding today, just not ours. You won’t be getting knocked up but we can practice the process. A lot.” Thinking of Telly, he smiled. “We might be inheriting an offspring of sorts, though. With feathers. Think he’ll be okay with my cats?”

“Oh yeah, birds and cats go together swell.” Snorting, she shook her head. “Why are you asking about Telly, though? He’s going with Sara and Brad.”

“Not according to what Brad said on the phone when I called. Evidently their new place in Laramie is pet-free.”

“You called him because of me?”

He shrugged. “I needed advice about you.”

“Stop asking other people. Next time, we’ll figure things out together.” She stroked his wrist. “So is parenting Telly together part of falling for you? You’re like the damn bird whisperer.”

His smile grew. He hadn’t expected to hear the words for a while. “You’re admitting you’ve fallen for me?”

She flushed. Actually flushed. If he hadn’t been in love already, her pink cheeks would’ve sealed it. “Yes. I’m in deep, Montgomery. It’s all your fault.”

“I’ll happily take that blame since it turns out I’m in pretty deep as well. Guess we’ll have to figure it out together.” He kissed the top of her head. “Just tell me if you start feeling lost, little girl,” he murmured, hoping she remembered.

“Nope, not lost,” she said, echoing her first words to him that day after class. “I was waiting for you.”