“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to get a speeding ticket.” Autumn laughed.

Balen glanced down at the speedometer and let his foot off the accelerator. Was he really going seventy in a forty-five? His nerves hummed with restless anxiety—both with the need to get inside her and the inevitable conversation he could no longer keep putting off. A part of him was relieved to get this burden lifted, while another was scared as hell he was about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He’d spent a good portion of the day—when he wasn’t busy making love to Autumn—weighing his options and playing out the various scenarios of how this could go down. He’d messaged Connor when she’d been in the shower and asked him to leave for the night. He wanted to take her back to his place and make love to her on the beach. Once she was good and sated, he would tell her the truth and confess he’d fallen in love with her—and pray to God she didn’t leave him.

Over the years, he’d given up all hope of ever finding the kind of love his parents had shared. He remembered his dad telling him stories about meeting Balen’s mother. He said the moment he met her, he knew she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. At the time, Balen thought that was ridiculous. Love at first sight was a fairy tale. That kind of passion didn’t exist. But somehow, in a matter of a few short days, Autumn had made a believer out of him. It wasn’t until he’d truly connected with her—in every sense of the word—that his bond with her solidified and he realized he couldn’t keep denying what his heart already knew… He couldn’t let her go. What they had was too real, too rare, to let it slip through their fingers. This was not some fleeting affair, and they owed it to each other to give this thing a chance. Now, if he could only convince her of that.

He’d be the first to admit that he’d fucked up by allowing her to believe he was someone he wasn’t. And he’d gladly own that, but in his defense, all his adult life women wanted to be with him because he was “Balen Kroft.” The irony wasn’t lost on him that for the first time, he could lose the woman he loved because of it. Knowing Autumn, she would probably prefer the unemployed beach bum to a world-famous surfer. Not that he could blame her, that guy came with a lot a baggage he wasn’t proud of.

Autumn straight up told him she despised deception, and although he hadn’t outright lied to her, he doubted she’d see it that way. She had trust issues, and after the way her asshole of an ex had treated her, it was perfectly understandable why. Balen couldn’t help but wonder if Autumn would allow her past to prevent her from grasping hold of a future with him. He needed her to believe he was worth the risk.

“Balen, this isn’t the way back to the villa. Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, they were pulling into his driveway.

“What are we doing at your brother’s house?”

A stab of guilt twisted in his gut. He ignored the question and cut the engine, hopping out and heading around to the passenger door. Balen pulled it open and offered her his hand. “Come on.” He flashed her one of those smiles she seemed to find irresistible and helped her climb out. He led her past the side of her house and toward the beach. When he glanced back, her head was craned around, admiring the view. “If you don’t watch where you’re going, you’re going to trip,” he teased.

“Sorry. This place is just so beautiful. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to live here.”

With any luck, she’d soon find out.

“You never told me what your brother does for a living.”

No, he hadn’t. “He’s in PR services.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize that paid so well.”

“I suppose that depends on who you’re representing.” Since he was his brother’s client, the job paid quite well—not that Connor wasn’t great at what he did and worth every penny. And considering the damage control Balen had been throwing his way lately, he should probably have given the guy a raise. In addition to saving his ass, Connor handled all of Balen’s business and worked closely with Bradford. He told Balen where to be and when to be there. He scheduled and coordinated all his sponsorships and interviews. In truth, he’d be lost without him. Contrary to popular belief, career surfing wasn’t just about riding the next wave.

“Watch your step,” he cautioned as they headed down the stone path toward the beach. It was getting dark, but the full moon reflecting off the water lit the yard well enough to see where they were going.

“None of this impresses you, does it?”

Balen felt resistance on his hand and turned back to look at her and shrugged. “Should it? It’s just stuff. You want to know what impresses me?”

“I do.”

She had no idea. Her smile was nearly too kissable to resist. Slipping his arms around her, he pulled her close and whispered, “The way the moonlight reflects in your hair.” He lifted a fiery strand and twisted it around his finger. “The way your eyes remind me of the ocean. I’m impressed by how utterly beautiful you are, inside and out.”

And there was that look, the one that made his heart feel too big for his chest and his lungs hungry to breathe in her scent. He stood there a moment, awestruck by the rare glimpse of vulnerability and the unguarded emotion he saw staring back at him. She felt it too—this thing between them—but he could tell it also scared her.

Impulsively, Balen kicked off his shoes and socks, and knelt in the sand to pull off Autumn’s. “What are you doing?” she laughed, shifting her weight to lift one leg then the other at his insistence. As soon as her French-tipped toenails touched the sand, they curled into the warm grains still clinging to the heat of the day. The breeze was cool coming off the sea, just enough that he couldn’t tell whether her nipples beaded from desire or the crisp night air.

Balen pulled out his cell and snapped a pic of their feet in the sand for her scrapbook, and hoped by tomorrow she’d be agreeing to add many more pages to that book with him. Opening his iTunes, he selected a song he hadn’t heard in over five years.