You may have a closed heart chakra if you are feeling bitterness and anger toward those you have perceived as having wronged you. In order to open your heart chakra you must release that anger, forgive yourself and others without condition, and truly let go.

I adored Mila and Atlas. Loved them. So much so I couldn’t imagine not having them as part of my life. But with my heart shredded and my psyche having taken the motherlode of hits, the last thing I wanted to see was a couple in love flaunting their happy selves all over my house.

I was wretched. A horrible friend. Downright loser material.

As I made my way through the kitchen and past the couple canoodling on my couch, I physically gagged. This was not like me. I’d always been the world’s biggest proponent of love. Finding it. Keeping it. Working hard at relationships because I believed wholeheartedly that anything worth having took work. Love was no different. And I know I did my best with Kyle. Doted on him the way a loving wife should. Only, he never returned that affection.

But when it came right down to it, I’d failed at love. Failed miserably. A shot of guilt warring with anger sliced straight through my back where a tender patch of my wound stung. Not the first painful reminder that the man I had loved more than my next breath didn’t love me back. In fact, he loved me so little he’d taken a knife to me in hate.

For what?

I lifted up a coffee cup and filled it with the nectar of the gods. My hands shook like I was a frail hundred-year-old woman. I set the cup down and rested my arms on the counter in front of me, bracing myself for the onslaught of emotions that tore me apart one flash of memory at a time.

Kyle tried to kill me.

Breathe, Moe. Calm down.

He tried to kill me for money. Money.

Anger and disgust coated my heart, and I broke out in a misting of fine sweat. I could feel a tremble start in my toes and work its way up my legs, through my body, and out to my fingertips. I gripped the rounded edge of the counter.

What was it he’d said? So the money would go to the right person? He must have been talking about my sister, Matisse.

A shiver catapulted me into the past.

---

Kyle entered the lawyer’s office. At first I was surprised to see him. Hopeful, even, that he’d come at such a sad time in my life. My grandparents had both passed, and I was the lone living relative sitting in their lawyer’s office for the reading of the will. I’d gotten everything. My family had not intended anything for Matisse. But I had a plan. I’d create a separate trust for her. I had more money than I needed or could ever use in this lifetime. Maybe if she didn’t have to worry about money, we could focus on building our relationship. With our dad somewhere working, focusing on himself as usual, pretending he didn’t have a family he’d left behind, Matisse was all I had left.

And then she walked in behind Kyle, holding his hand. They both stopped in front of me, smarmy grins on their faces. To say I was shocked to see Matisse with my ex-husband would have been putting it mildly. I knew he’d been fond of her, but not this fond.

“Matisse? Kyle? What are you doing here?” I questioned, tearfully watching their body language, trying to vanquish any negative thoughts before they could rise to the surface.

“Don’t be dense, Moe. I’m with Kyle.” She laid a hand over his abdomen and nestled in close. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Once he left your sorry ass, I picked up the pieces of his broken heart and made him mine.” She blinked flirtatiously.

The weight that hit my chest was devastating. “No.” I shook my head, not wanting to believe it was true. My sister wouldn’t betray me like that. Not after everything I’d done for her over the years.

Kyle smirked. “You knew I liked Matisse. Hell, I was fucking her the entire time we were married. Why did you think I always wanted her to come visit? So I could crawl between her sexy thighs while you were sleeping.” He snorted. “I had Matisse on every surface of our home before I left you to trade up for a better model. And look at her. She’s everything you could never be. Now it’s time to get her back the money she deserves. Excuse us while we talk to the lawyer.”

---

Vomit crawled up my throat, and I barely staved it off as I gripped the tile. My stomach churned with the vile memory.

Breathe, Monet. Let it all go. That was the past; this is the present. You don’t want Kyle. He’s not the right man for you, and if you think back, he never was.

I had pushed her, their betrayal, and every attachment I’d had to my sister to the darkest recesses of my mind the second she walked into our lawyer’s office with my ex-husband’s hand in hers. Except it didn’t work.

Matisse was my father’s illegitimate child. I only learned of her existence when I was eleven years old and she was eight. For years, my father lived two lives. He had Mom and me, and at some point a couple years after they had me, my father wooed and impregnated his mistress. For a decade, he’d been unfaithful to our mother. Until that fateful day when Matisse’s mother died in a car accident. All our lives changed in an instant. My father admitted his transgressions, explained the circumstances to my mother and me, and apologized profusely. Then he asked my mother to take in Matisse and raise her as her own.

My mother, saint that she was, took in his daughter and lavished her with love. My mother’s parents, on the other hand, had not accepted her. They were very old-fashioned and strict about familial ties. Matisse was not welcomed into their arms or their estate. She didn’t share blood with my mother, nor did my mother adopt her; therefore, she was not included in the will. The lawyer correctly pointed out that Matisse had no standing to challenge the will. This infuriated Matisse and Kyle.

My hand shook as I lifted the coffee to my lips and took a sip. The smooth Columbian flavor settled over my tongue, and I sighed, thankful to be alive.

Alive.

Just the other night I was close to death on the cold black pavement of the parking garage. My knees and elbows throbbed with the beat of my heart at the memory. I practiced my yoga breathing as the visions took over.

Kyle’s knees pressing into my lower back felt like an anchor holding me down.

The forceful tug of my hair so tight, pieces ripped out from the roots.

Blood oozing down around my hands, sticking to my clothes, and pooling around my body.

The first bite of the knife as it pierced the skin of my neck.

Screaming.

“Help me! Please!” I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Monet! Moe! Please, please come back!” Someone was yelling. At first it sounded far away. The sound echoed down a long length, like it was traveling down a tunnel to reach me.

“Mommy, Mommy!”

Oh my God, my daughter. I looked around but couldn’t see anything but the garage. “Lily!” I cried out. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Mommy! Please, Mommy!” I couldn’t see her. Kyle must have had her. He took her like he said he would.

No. No. No.

“Moe!”

Hands around my shoulders. Fingers digging into my biceps.

“Monet! Honey, please!”

Hands around my neck. I can’t breathe. He’s killing me!

“No, no, let me go. Don’t touch me!” I screeched until a burning sensation and a crash around my feet broke me out of my hallucination. Kyle had been here, holding me down, trying to get to me again. Only, he was gone, the dark garage replaced with the bright light of my kitchen. I blinked several times trying to rid my mind of the fear and anxiety ricocheting through me.

I trembled hard as my vision wavered. A burning sensation sizzled against my bare feet. I looked around and found Mila, with tears running down her cheeks, holding a crying Lily to her chest. Atlas was standing in front of me with his arms out, as if he was about to wrestle a wild animal but was trying to calm it first.

My body shook as if I was being vibrated from the inside out by a giant machine. Then my teeth started to chatter, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

Atlas moved closer, his arms and hands extended in front of him. “That’s it, Monet. It’s just me. Atlas. You’re safe. We’re here for you, honey. And you’re safe. Kyle is not here. He’s not here. No one is going to touch you or hurt you.”

“Mommy!” Lily cried out again.

I looked down at the coffee splattered all over the ground, the porcelain cup shattered in tiny pieces everywhere.

“I think I just had a panic attack,” I said right before blackness swept into my vision and blurred out the edges. Atlas locked an arm around my waist before I completely lost it. He led me to the couch and sat me down. Once I was seated, he kneeled and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Breathe, sis, and watch me. Keep your eyes open and look at me. Inhale for four beats, and then exhale for four beats. Follow my breathing.” He used the same voice he used in the yoga classes he once taught. Melodic, tranquil. I followed along willingly.

For a few minutes, we breathed together until I felt my heart rate decrease, the sweat on my neck and brow cool, and the trembling abate.

“Mommy?” Lily said from across the room.

I inhaled slowly and pushed back from Atlas. “Thank you. I’m better now.”

“Flashback?” He stood and stepped away.

“I think so, but it was more random and disjointed. Honestly, I’m not really sure what that was exactly.” The fact that it was on the heels of the memory of Kyle and Matisse at the law office made it worse. I knew between the betrayal of my sister and the attack from Kyle, I was no longer operating on a healthy level.

“Mommy?” Lily said again in her small voice, a hint of fear and concern making it sound deeper.

“Come here, baby,” I said, holding my arms out.

She flew into my arms, and the pain of her embrace blasted through me, but I choked back the cry and instead gritted my teeth waiting for the pain to abate. Lily was more important. She pushed her tear-stained, stricken face directly into my neck.

I petted her hair slowly and hummed the way I did when she was scared. Same as I’d done while rocking her as a baby. “I’m okay, honey. Mommy just had a bad daydream.”

“Like a monster dream? Did you see a scary one?” She pulled her face back, and her blue eyes widened as she focused on me.

“Yeah, baby. Scariest monster ever.” A tremor skittered down my spine.

“And his name was Kyle?” she asked.

Crap. I didn’t want her knowing what had happened and who had hurt me. That was the last connection I ever wanted her to make, not that she remembered Kyle anyway.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about Mommy’s monster, okay? Just know that sometimes mommies get scared too. But having you in my arms makes it all better.”

My daughter offered a wide, toothy smile. “Can I have pam cakes?” she asked out of nowhere. It only took a child to bring things right back to the here and now, with her easy dismissal of this uncomfortable moment as if it’d happened last week and not within the past few minutes.

I chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Yes, love bug. You can have pancakes. Let Mommy get the floor cleaned up and I’ll make you some.”

“No need, I’ve got this!” Atlas hollered over his shoulder. He was already in the kitchen, and Mila was already tossing away the last of the glass I’d broken.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hey, it’s what families are for. We’re here for you, Moe,” Mila reminded me of the obvious.

And thank God for them.

---

Sometime later, I woke to the mouthwatering smell of spiced meat cooking. Easing out of bed slowly, like an eighty-year-old woman might, I took one small, calculated move at a time. Being careful was paramount to healing. Maneuvering out of bed cautiously, I pressed a hand against my side and curved my body until my heels rested on the floor to limit the stretch of my back. Like yesterday, music was playing in the kitchen, only this time it wasn’t George Michael blaring. Atlas was playing acoustic guitar on the couch next to the kitchen.

He plucked at the strings like a professional, playing something Latin-inspired, slapping his hand against the soundboard to add a bit of beat every few seconds. Lily was in the center of the kitchen being spun around in circles by long, muscled arms that I recognized instantly. I allowed myself the pleasure of watching Clayton interact with Lily. He was a natural with her. After she’d whirled too many times, he scooped her up and placed her on the counter close to the stove but not so close that she could harm herself on the burners or pots.

“Now, Queen Lily, you have to pour the red sauce over the rice like so.”

“Ohhh, and then it makes the rice colored. Why you want it red and not lellow or white?”

“Yell-o? Yellow?” he repeated for her benefit.

I knew it was coming even before she opened her mouth. Her small nose scrunched up defiantly and her eyes blazed. “’S’wat I said.” She placed both fists on her hips and looked very put out.

Clayton bowed low. “Pardon me, my queen. I shan’t correct you again.” He mimicked an English accent.

“No, don’t stop correcting her, or she’ll never learn the proper way to pronounce the words,” I added from across the room.

“Hey, beautiful, you’re awake. I hope we didn’t wake you up with the noise.”

I shook my head. “No, just resting. The meds take a lot out of me.”

He nodded. “You hungry?”

I smiled and slowly made my way over to the stove and placed my hand on his bicep. It flexed, either to impress me or on instinct. Something made me think it was the latter. Clayton didn’t have to go out of his way to impress a woman. He was literally God’s gift to womankind. His physique was unreal. Hard slabs of muscle everywhere I could see, and that wasn’t saying much since I hadn’t seen him naked.

Of course, the thought of seeing him sans his clothing sent a thrill of arousal through my body that landed directly on my clit. A gentle pulse woke that bundle of nerves as I took in all that was Clayton Hart. Even with every bone in my body weighed down with medicine, his appeal still had the ability to affect me.

The man was tall, very tall, and I was not a short woman at five foot six. He had close to a foot of height on me. He wore a pair of loose-fitting black track pants with two white stripes running down the side seams. His upper body was covered by only a white ribbed tank.

“Did you, uh, just come from the gym?” I asked, my mouth salivating at the bulging muscles of his shoulders. His hair was spiked in every direction, making me think he hadn’t yet had a shower. I wondered if I got close enough if I could smell his natural musk. As soon as the thought hit, I mentally smacked myself and smashed it down. A relationship was so not what I needed right now. Painkillers, food, sleep, and my kid to be healthy and happy. That was on the menu tonight. And tacos, because Clayton was back again making dinner. Why was he here again? I couldn’t fathom why he’d want to be near me, especially right now. It didn’t make any sense. Not only did I look ghastly, I was cut up from hip to shoulder. My neck was a mess of visible stitches, a reminder that Kyle’s wrath wasn’t far. He could come after me again at any time. Then what? He’d definitely hurt Clayton. Mila. Atlas. None of them were safe here. Why was he here?

All those thoughts slammed into my mind, adding to the throbbing at my temples. My head was still tender to the touch from its repeated tug of war with Kyle’s hand.

A shiver of dread rippled along my skin, and I crossed my arms over my chest and held myself.

Clayton watched the move and squinted before responding to my earlier question. “Yeah, I had a late client, but I didn’t want to take too long. I know the queen needed to eat at a reasonable hour, and you have medications to take that require food.”

I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it. I tipped my head and planned to ask why he was doing all of this. Why would he want to be here cooking for a single mother who was attacked, but the words flew right out of my head as he watched my inner turmoil play out. Instead of responding, he hooked a hand low around my hips, avoiding my wounds, eased me near him, and plastered my front to his chest. I looked up at him, not understanding what was happening. Fearing it but at the same time needing comfort. This man’s comfort. Something I was learning might be unique only to him. He tunneled one of his hands into the hair at my nape and lightly turned my head so my cheek rested directly over his heart. Going with the flow, I looped my arms around him in a full-body hug.

I held on as tight as I could and breathed him in. His natural scent enveloped me with notes of the mountains, pine trees, and something richer. Frankincense, perhaps. A full-body sense of peace coated my high-strung form. After the flashback and panic attack, the meds taking their toll, and my body hurting everywhere…he knew what I needed. A simple hug from a safe, secure man who I knew would never do anything to harm me. I relished the heat of his body and the serenity I allowed in at that moment.

Clayton didn’t miss a beat. He wrapped a thick forearm around my waist and held me close, making sure to steer clear of my back wound. The other hand curled around my shoulder and into my hair, where he massaged the back of my neck and head. I groaned, turned my forehead against his sternum, and breathed through the bliss of his hands working out the tension in my muscles. I hadn’t realized how sore I was after the attack because I’d been focusing on the knife wounds and abrasions. As he worked out a particularly painful knot, I did the unthinkable, acting so far out of character I wouldn’t have believed it was me if I hadn’t caught myself doing it.

I bit him. Nuzzled his chest until my mouth encountered a chunk of muscle, his pec, and I sank my teeth in. Through the tank. Right into his flesh. I probably left a mark. Holy mother of God, I’m a twisted woman. What in the ever-loving hell is wrong with me? How could I do this? Acting like a horned-up teenager when in reality I just got so overwhelmed with the sensual nature of his embrace, the warmth of his arms, a carnal response bled out of my system.

Right as I was about to apologize profusely for my stupidity and callousness, Clayton groaned and thrust his hips against me, showing exactly how he felt about that lapse in judgment. When I felt the hard shaft wedged against my pelvis, the budding arousal I’d had turned into embarrassment and panic. I moved back a few inches as quickly as my body would allow, but Clayton wouldn’t allow me to go too far. His hand stayed firmly at the back of my head, and he dipped his chin low, leveling his face with mine. Our gazes met and an undeniable energy speared through us as if we’d been struck by lightning. I felt the magnetism, the push and pull between our forms, as we stood close together. It was wrong, but my goodness did it feel so right.

Clayton whispered close to my ear, tickling the wisp of hair there. “You can’t move back right away. It wouldn’t be decent. Feel me?”

Did I feel him? Was he insane? There was a steel pipe between us. Of course I felt it.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered, remembering that little ears were not that far away, although at some point she must have jumped off the counter, because I heard her laughing at Atlas somewhere behind us.

Again, I tried to back up, but Clayton tightened his grip on my hips. “Don’t you dare take that back. It was the single best hug I’ve ever had in my life. Besides, you reacted naturally. Never be afraid to respond with me.”

“But…” Mortification simmered around each breath I took, making it hard to respond. I’d never acted like that with any man before. Clayton seemed to bring out an entirely new side of me—one that was more willing and confident. Then again, it could very well have been the drugs. I figured that was a much better reason for my extreme lack in judgment.

“I liked it, beautiful.” He licked his lips, and his nostrils flared. “A fuck of a lot, in case you didn’t notice.” He gyrated his hips in a small circle, allowing me to experience every blessed inch of his proof. And it was a lot of inches. A lot. More than enough. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I’m in a heap of trouble with this man.

“We can’t…” I gasped, remembering how messed up I was, how I still had my ex after me, and that everyone near me, including Clayton, was in danger.

He chuckled. “No, we can’t. Wrong place, wrong time, but not the wrong person. I’m here, Monet, and I intend to see this thing through.”

I frowned. Thing. “What thing?”

He smirked, and I swore his face was more handsome when he gave off the cocky vibe in spades. “The spark. The chemistry we have. I want to let it play out and see where it goes.”

For the love of God, why did this have to happen now? Last year was the right time, when I’d felt confident and strong, and he didn’t want me then. Now I was broken and wounded. Worse, I’d been branded by my ex, who wanted me dead. Everything I knew and felt about myself and my ability to judge men and relationships was broken. Just like me physically. I didn’t know what was up, down, or all around, let alone how to handle a “thing” between me and the sexiest man alive.

I shook my head and abruptly backed up. He frowned, his arms falling to his sides. My guess was he probably sensed my confusion at what was taking place between us.

“Clayton, I’m not sure I can do that. I’m not even sure I’m capable of giving anything right now.” The words were honest and heartbreaking at the same time. Mostly because in another place and time I would have jumped at the chance to be this man’s girl. To experience the chemistry and spark, as he put it. To live it every day, be excited about every call. Planning meals, dressing up, trying to impress him. Now, like this, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Kyle had taken that from me. My confidence was black and wasted like a piece of burnt toast. I had no idea when it would come back around, or when I would. He didn’t deserve to wait, put his life on hold for what might be.

Clayton inclined against the counter, his muscles bunching seductively. Ugh, why did he have to be so attractive?

“Do what?” He flattened his lips and narrowed his eyes.

I licked my lips, distracted by his beauty regardless of his obvious irritation. What I wouldn’t have given to be whole. “I don’t think it’s fair for us to let it play out.”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. “Care to tell me why?”

Honesty. He deserved that. “Look, Clayton, you are an amazing man, but you don’t need this.” I pointed to my chest. “I’m messed up. My ex is after me and could hurt anyone in my path, including you. I have a child…” I could have gone on and on, but really, it wasn’t necessary. My baggage was obvious and far heavier than any one man should have to endure entering a new relationship. Not that this was a relationship.

Clayton shook his head, turned, and flicked the burners on once more. With efficient movements, he stirred and prepped the rest of the food. I noted a pan full of succulent spiced ground meat, a pot of beans, another pan with homemade Mexican rice, and a cast-iron skillet with a stack of corn tortillas sitting on the counter next to it. He’d done all of this for me, and here I was telling him he should step back. Practically begging him to.

“Why don’t you let me decide what it is I need, huh?” he shot off as he tossed a tortilla on the hot skillet. The corn disc sizzled and popped instantly. Methodically he flipped it.

“Clay, you’re an impressive, handsome man who deserves a good woman. A whole woman. Not one who’s broken and damaged. Between Kyle, Lily…the attack.” The line of stitches running down my back smarted, causing me to pause and breathe through it. I closed my eyes tight. “I’m not what you need. I don’t know if what I have, what I am, even well and healthy would be good enough.” The truth burned like acid against my lips with each word. “You’re so much more than this, and I don’t know when I’ll be better. I’m certainly not worth the wait or the wasted time.” I clasped my fingers together and worried my sweater’s sleeve, which fell over the top of my hand. My throat was dry, and the admission of how jacked up my life had become was nauseating.

Clayton spun around, slamming the spatula down on the counter. I jumped a bit at the crack of the plastic as it landed on the marble. Anger tightened around his lips, and a hardness I hadn’t seen before entered his eyes. I bristled at this new side of Clayton but wouldn’t allow it to outwardly affect me. He didn’t deserve that. I wasn’t scared of him. He’d never hurt me. I knew that with my entire being.

“Spending time with you, with Lily, and Atlas and Mila is not wasted.” His voice was low and even-tempered. He inhaled sharply through his nose. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been enjoying myself. For once.” He groaned, sounding frustrated, possibly even disappointed.

“For once?” I blinked, desperately trying to figure out where he was going with this.

His tone rose. “Yeah, for once I got off work and had a home to go to. Not an empty bachelor pad, but a real home with people in it I care about. People who I thought wanted to see me. Are you telling me you don’t want me here?” His eyes blazed with an emotion I couldn’t pin down, but seeing it made me feel ugly and uncomfortable.

Was I? That wasn’t my intention. “I’m saying everything all wrong.” I flicked my hands, trying to ease the worry and instability I felt roaring through my veins. Damned meds. I couldn’t get my mouth around what I wanted to express, and I was a doctor for crying out loud. I talked people off cliffs for a living, and I couldn’t share with one man why his interest in me wasn’t a good choice. I took a slow breath and tried again. “Of course we want you here. You’ve been nothing but helpful, and you’re our friend. What I said came out wrong, and you’re misinterpreting.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows rose in question.

“Yes,” I blurted, not knowing what else to say to make things better, to show him that he mattered but not lead him down a slippery path I wasn’t sure I could take with him. Not now, maybe not ever.

“There’s that word again.”

I pursed my lips and placed my hands on my hips. “Well, you are.”

He ran a hand through his hair and looked over my shoulder. I did as well and noted Lily happily watching cartoons. Atlas was on the couch next to her, plucking at his guitar and writing things down in a small notepad, totally oblivious to the strange smackdown of wills we were having in the kitchen.

“You know what, beautiful?” His eyes were a bonfire of heat when he looked me up and down, taking in my loose pajamas, my disheveled hair, and finally my face. He seemed to zero in on my mouth.

“Misinterpret this!” he said on a growl before his face was in front of mine, his hand tunneled into my hair, and his lips slanted over mine.

“Oh!” I moaned a second before his tongue dipped in and tangled with mine. I couldn’t help but respond. His entire presence enveloped me in a cocoon of warmth and heat. He tasted of spice and mint and luscious man. I had absolutely no willpower with his lips on mine.

Clayton cocked his head to the side and eased my face up with his thumb at my jaw. He didn’t have to. I’d have gone like a horse to water. His lips were warm as they pressed against mine. For a moment, I allowed him to stun me with his kiss…until I’d had enough of sitting on the sidelines and I wanted more. So much more. With both hands, I cupped his cheeks and sucked on his bottom lip, taking control.

“Fuck,” he whispered, easing me forward until he was against the counter and I was pressing against the hard wall of muscles again. We were back in the position that had gotten us into our heavy discussion in the first place. What the hell was it between the two of us? I didn’t know, but with his mouth on mine, his tongue lapping and flicking against my teeth, I didn’t give a flying fig.

I moaned into his mouth until I twisted my upper body too far and a jolt of pain fired from every nerve ending.

“Oh God!” I cried out and backed away, pushing my hair from my face and gritting my teeth. The torment of each stitch pulling against one another throbbed and banged through my entire body. The kiss ended, and in its place a new sense of dread. Even a simple kiss hurt like hell. Kyle had done that to me. He’d taken my first kiss with Clayton Hart and made it painful. God this situation was torture, but the kiss…nothing but pure beauty.

“What’s the matter? Shit, Monet. I wasn’t thinking. I lost it the second I kissed you.” He held my biceps and craned his neck to look into my eyes.

I lifted my hand to my mouth, feeling the swollen flesh. Screw the pain. The kiss won out. I’d take the pain any day of the week to feel that bliss again. I peered over my shoulder to check on Lily. She was still watching cartoons, oblivious, but Atlas was openly gawking. Much to my dismay, he raised his hands and offered a slow clap for the show.

I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. This was not happening. This could not happen. “Um…”

“You okay?” Clayton’s normally light-blue eyes had darkened with the shadow of worry. Again, all my fault. Usually when a man kissed a woman, the last thing he worried about was whether she was in pain.

Needing to brush it off and not take away from one of the loveliest moments between Clayton and myself, I fibbed. “I’m fine. I just twisted weird for a second.”

“You mean when you were trying to suck my tonsils out of my throat?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

I narrowed my gaze, giving a death glare in reply as I backed away from his body a few steps.

He put a hand over his abdomen and laughed heartily. “Just kidding, beautiful. You need to lighten up. Besides, that kiss said everything you couldn’t.” He turned and placed a tortilla on the skillet to warm.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“That you think I’m hot.” His confidence was just barely this side of arrogant.

I rolled my eyes. How we went from he shouldn’t bother with me and my baggage to kissing to him knowing I thought he was hot was like a case of whiplash. My emotions and feelings were bouncing all over the place. Trying to take a note from his levity, I responded, “Everyone thinks you’re hot. The entire female population would admit that. It’s not a stretch.”

He smiled and winked over his shoulder.

“Annnndddd…” he drew out the word. “You like me,” he added, his voice laced with humor.

I cringed. “What is this? Seventh grade? Yes, I like you.” Easy enough to admit. He was a likable guy.

“That you liked kissing me,” he continued.

A wave of heat flashed over my cheeks. Uh-huh. I saw where he was going with his jabs, and I decided I’d play along. “Maybe.”

“That you felt the spark.”

I sighed. Infuriating man! “I will admit there were some definite sparks.”

“And we have chemistry.” He just blazed ahead, no stopping at Go, no collecting his two hundred dollars as though we were playing Monopoly.

“Clayton…” I warned. Why couldn’t he see I was all wrong for him? He deserved so much more than what I could offer him.

“What do you have to lose trying this out with me?” His voice was low enough that only I could hear him.

There was so much I could say to that loaded question. I could lose my sanity. I could fall in love and risk having my heart broken. My daughter could get used to him and have her heart broken. He could realize I was not worth the trouble. Kyle could hurt him, me, any of us, and he shouldn’t get involved. I was a divorced single mom who’d been cut mentally and physically. Besides all of that, it could all go to hell in a handbasket. Then Atlas would be angry with Clayton, and it would affect their friendship. Honestly, I could come up with far more reasons against this “thing” between us than I could for it.

I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I fired back the one thing I needed to know more than anything. The question that would tip the scales one way or the other. It was the only way I could risk it all.

“What do you have to gain?” I heard how tired, lost, and everything in between I sounded. My mind was mush, on complete and utter overload.

His next words floored me.

“Can’t you see? I have everything to gain. Lily, and all of this.” He gestured around the general vicinity of my home, the warmth I knew he found there. “Mostly though, it’s…you.”