Linx dabbed perfume behind her ears and over her pulse points and checked her reflection in her full-length mirror. Her dark-brown hair flowed effortlessly over her bare shoulders, and bright red lipstick accentuated her exotic looking face, so much like her mother.

The ghostly outline of the avant-garde wedding dress designed by Grady’s sister faded like an old photograph compared to the vibrant colors she’d dazzle Grady with on this very first of all dates—a stretchy black miniskirt with a bold red rose pattern over knee-high black leather boots and bare thighs.

It felt strange to be up in her loft getting dressed while Grady manned her kitchen with Cedar at his feet.

Now that they were both present and accounted for, Cedar perked up and was back to her happy self. She pranced around her home and wagged her tail whenever Grady looked at her, begging scratches and kisses.

Linx had never seen Cedar happier and more content.

She stood at the top of the stairs and watched Grady set the table, wearing a barbeque apron. His shirt sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and he had a chef’s thermometer tucked over one ear.

This.

Looked.

So much like home.

This.

Couldn’t.

Be true.

Domestic and tranquil were not words belonging to her and Grady’s story.

But still, she watched, mesmerized while love songs played on the stereo—another relic from her grandmother, complete with large speakers and a tuner in which she’d plugged an iPod. He’d found her secret playlist, the one she’d never admit to listening to—never dared to hope.

Grady set her rustic wooden table with a pair of candlesticks over a pinecone centerpiece. After lighting the candles, he took a platter and exited the back door, followed by Cedar.

An essential oil diffuser spilled scents of pine, cedar, and vanilla, mixing with the aroma of grilled steaks wafting through the kitchen window. A bowl of tossed salad sat on the kitchen counter along with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

Slowly, Linx descended the stairs, hardly believing the warm, cozy cabin belonged to her. He’d spread her grandmother’s wedding knot afghan on the lodge-pole couch, and arranged wildflowers in the vases on the end tables.

Ginger slept curled up with a hot water bottle in her playpen, and the curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed.

Grady Hart sure knew how to put on a date night. He’d even swept and cleaned the kitchen.

The screen door in back swung open, and the man who tied her heart up in knots came through with a platter. “I hope you still like your steaks medium-rare.”

“You remembered.” Her fingers fluttered over the silverware in the drawer. She’d use her grandmother’s silver tonight. Thankfully, she’d had them polished for the Gold Rush Festival display. “This is all so special. Thanks.”

He set the platter on the counter and leaned toward her. “See? I’m not such a bad guy.”

“I never said you were.” She set the table, her breath quickening. “Although I’m still a bad girl.”

“I’m not sure I can forgive you for keeping Cedar,” he said, grinding pepper over the steaks. “But I’d like to hear your reasons.”

“I’m evil.”

“So am I.” He set the plates on the table and put the salad bowl between them. “That’s why I can’t forgive you, even though I’m going to let you have Cedar.”

“You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“Yeah, maybe we should have joint custody. Shall we kiss on that?” He stood in front of her, too close, raking her with his scorching gaze.

Linx wet her lips, but turned away from him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be kissing and touching.”

“But we’re evil, so we’ll always do the bad idea.” He feathered his sturdy fingers through her hair. “Since I’m going to be staying in the vicinity, and my sister’s going to join the Chamber of Commerce, and possibly live in that haunted house Tami showed her, I want to start over with you. Wipe the slate clean. Will you let me volunteer here?”

“You want to volunteer?”

“Heard you couldn’t afford to pay, so I reckon it’s free labor you’re looking for.” He feathered his fingers through her hair, tilting her face toward his.

“Sure, burying the hatchet is good. I don’t want us at each other’s throats.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I’ll draw blood for make-up sex.”

“There’s nothing for us to make up for.” She speared him with narrowed eyes. “Since you won’t forgive me.”

He patted her behind. “You didn’t think I’d go soft on you, did you?”

Oh, no, he was never soft, ever. Not that she’d complain. She didn’t need forgiveness, not after what she’d done. Any forgiveness now would be wasted on her when he discovered what else she’d kept from him.

For now, she’d enjoy date night and steak—maybe a little dancing and a little touching.

As for accepting him as a volunteer? It made sense, and it was only fair for her to let him take Cedar out on walks.

She was, after all, his dog.

“I’ll expect you to stay long and hard, whenever I’m around.” She inhaled the mouth-watering aroma of grilled steak and aroused male. Opening her mouth, she let herself enjoy one more hungry kiss before they’d attack the steaks.

* * *

Grady dimmed the lights and pulled the antique cane chair back for his date. Time slowed as he admired her beauty, the way she swept her hair back, the smile she graced him with, and the soft voice of thanks.

He couldn’t help leaning down and feathering his lips over the column of her neck. Her sultry scent and the indrawn breath sizzling through her lips stirred the want deep in his gut.

She turned her head and rubbed her face against his. Her gaze studied him, taking all of him, open and vulnerable. Was this his wildcat, or had he never seen this side of her—feminine, comforting, and accepting?

Taking her hand, he pulled her from the table. The steaks would be stone-cold by the time he was done with her, but it no longer mattered.

Gazing into the dark pools of her eyes, he touched her, lightly, exploring the contours of her face, slowly, gently, as she, too, touched him—truly touched, considering, getting acquainted.

Below their feet, Cedar lay on a braided rug over the heart-pine floor, watching them as they swayed to “Once in a Lifetime Love.” This was the way it should have been—all those years ago. He needed her and he needed her love—or her brand of love, however she expressed it.

He shouldn’t have run. Only cowards ran, and even though it had never made any sense back then, now, surrounded by her perfume, her touch, her warm breath, inside her home, with her dog at his feet—time stood still.

He never believed in love, didn’t trust it, and ran from the slightest whiff of love. But love had a way of worming its way, like the puppy found behind the woodpile, or the newborn cradled in a father’s arms.

And love had a way of growing and consuming and crowding out hate, turning bitter and lonely men like Connor into smitten husbands and doting fathers. Taking each of his sisters from selfish and entitled girls and changing them into beautiful, glowing women whose eyes reflected love at the sight of their men. They touched and comforted, they considered and cared. Their serene faces while growing babies in their wombs were polar opposites to the frantic anguish on the faces of women with unwanted pregnancies.

He didn’t know how long he drank in the sight of Linx, or the feel of her in his arms, or the way their bodies moved. But the candles burned out and the steaks grew cold. The sun set and the cabin grew dark, but he didn’t want to let her go.

Not now, and not ever.

And as he kissed her, he knew that whether he loved her or hated her, the pain would never leave. He might as well love her and risk the tragic ending, rather than an aborted beginning.