I’ve always been a morning person.

I’m that annoying guy you see in movies who bounds out of bed before his alarm, ready to take on the day, a spring in his step as he sips his cup of coffee and gets ready for work. To tell you the truth, I’ve never understood people who hate mornings.

Until today.

I’ve been up since four, biding my time. I ran my three miles, had about six cups of coffee, read every stupid article I could find about me on my phone, and resorted to playing some ridiculous game with little pieces of candy I had to match. I’ve never been so bored in my life.

I have no idea what time Lexi normally gets up in the morning, but I don’t want to give her a chance to get too far into painting without me. If I show up too late, she’ll tell me she’s got it covered and turn me away. But, if I show up too early, I risk pissing her off by waking her up.

I curse under my breath as the screen tells me I’m out of moves once again. Setting down the phone, I glance at the clock and see that it’s finally eight. Thinking back to that morning on her back dock, I remember that she was up and having coffee well before eight. Surely, this is as good a time as any, right?

I grab my ball cap from the counter and make my way toward the front door. Straightening it over my messy hair, I briefly wonder if it’s a bad idea to wear a Rampage hat when I’m trying to fly under the radar. Will it tip her off?

I stop in front of the mirror in the entryway, giving myself a final once-over. My ratty T-shirt and ripped jeans—I might have ripped a hole in the knee this morning just to give the appearance of owning work clothes—certainly don’t scream baseball star. And, come on, I see more Rampage hats in the stands than I do on the field. It’s not unusual for a man to wear swag for his favorite team. Mine happens to be the one I play for.

I shrug, deciding to go with it. If she somehow manages to put two and two together, then that’s how it goes. I’m enjoying the anonymity, but I don’t intend to lie to Lexi forever. Especially if things turn out the way I’m hoping.

After finding Lexi skipping down the highway and then watching her enthusiasm as she meticulously chose each and every item she purchased yesterday, I can’t deny that the woman fascinates me. She is such an enigma, going from cold and closed off to open and bubbly, seemingly within minutes. The glimpses I’ve seen of the softer side of Lexi make me think there is more to her than she lets on. She tries to put up a hard front, but deep down, I can tell it’s an act. One I desperately want to break through.

I step out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me. I don’t bother locking it.

Striding across my lawn, I consider my options.

I can turn on the charm I’m famous for, hoping she’ll eventually cave and let me in.

Or I can let her see the real me. The Ian Taggart I like to keep hidden from cameras and reporters. The Ian Taggart who’s not quite as sure of himself as he pretends to be. The Ian Taggart who’s a bit of a socially awkward dork when it boils down to it. The Ian Taggart I’ve buried so far down underneath the facade I present to the rest of the world that I’m not entirely sure he can rise back to the surface.

Something tells me Lexi would greatly prefer that Ian Taggart. The Ian who’s not so full of himself and who constantly doubts everything he’s ever done, just waiting for the day people realize he’s not all he’s cracked up to be.

Well, fuck. Now, I’m depressed.

But it’s true. Underneath all the pomp and circumstance, I really am an average guy. And I want Lexi to get to know the real side of me before she gets to know the baseball player.

When my fist finally makes contact with her door, my mind is made up. I’m going to let this happen naturally. I’m not going to try to sweep her off her feet and lay it on so thick, she has to use a knife to cut through my bullshit.

Lexi is going to get the real Ian “Tag” Taggart. And, if she doesn’t like what she sees, then…

Well, I’ll think about that later.

The door swings wide only seconds after I knock, Lexi’s brows pulling together when she finds me standing here. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, so at least that’s a good sign that I haven’t woken her.

“Ian. Do you need something?”

Just to see your pretty face.

The line comes to mind so easily, I almost spit it out. It’s what I would say to any other woman whose door I was knocking on first thing in the morning. And, while it’s true—I thought about her beautiful, full lips and sweet, kind eyes all last night—it’s not the only reason I’m here. I decide to go for something a little less forthright.

“Came to offer up my services. Put me in, Coach. I’m ready to work.”

She lifts a quizzical eyebrow at me. “What makes you think I need your help?”

I look past her, at the room behind her. “The fact that you bought enough paint to fill that lake out back and the fact that you only have two hands. Come on, Lex. I’ve got nothing else to do today. Keep me from dying of boredom.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she turns to the side and surveys the mess behind her, her eyes wide, as if the magnitude of her project is finally sinking in. My eyes narrow in on the corner of her lip, and I have to remind myself that I’m taking things slow. Because, right now? All I want is to find out exactly how that lip would taste between my own teeth.

When she turns back around, she surprises me as she says, “Okay. But only for today. I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle myself.”

I expected a lot more of an argument. She’s finally relenting, letting me help. And her words are almost laughable, her serious expression causing me to smile.

“Lex, the last thing I think of when it comes to you is someone who can’t handle herself. In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve shown me over and over how independent you are. This isn’t me trying to take over. I know you’ve got this. This is simply a friend wanting to offer a helping hand.”

She smirks. “A friend, huh? And who says we’re friends?”

There’s a hint of mischief in her eyes, as if she’s enjoying teasing and toying with me. And, fuck, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, we’re friends. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the best friend I’ve got right now. Though that might have more to do with me not having actually met anyone else in town yet. Other than the cashier at the grocery store.”

“You really ought to get out more. Pretty sad when your best friend isn’t even sure if she likes you.”

I take a step back, covering my heart with both hands. “You wound me, woman. Straight through the heart with that one.”

She chuckles, blowing a stray strand of hair from her eyes before turning and picking up a roller. “Get to work,” she says, slapping the roller against my chest. “Don’t make me fire you on the first day.”

She must miss the implication behind her words, but I sure as hell don’t. First day. That means, I’m coming back tomorrow.

* * *

Painting sucks ass.

I know I said I enjoyed helping my uncle during all those summers, but I forgot how much I absolutely loathed painting. It’s so monotonous. Up and down, up and down—oh, but don’t zone out because then you’ll fuck up and have to do it over again. I’ll never understand how people make a living out of this. I’d rather gouge my eyes out.

Lexi has been rather quiet the last few hours, working on one end of the room while I work on the other. We’re getting close to meeting in the middle, however, and she’s now only a few feet away from me.

An idea flashes through my mind.

Dipping my roller into the tray, I make sure it’s nice and wet. Then, before I can change my mind on what’s surely one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever had, I turn and run the dripping roller right up the center of Lexi’s back.

She lets out a little squeal, her back straightening as she stiffens. I gulp, wondering how this is going to go. The way I see it, I’ve got two possibilities. Either she kicks me in the balls and yells at me to never come back or…

She spins around, a wide smile brightening her entire face. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

I duck as she tries to hit me in the stomach with a splash of paint, which isn’t the smartest move. I might have avoided ruining my already ratty T-shirt, but instead, I get a face full of gray.

Her eyes widen with shock, a surprised breath escaping her lips as she tries to stifle her laughter. When she finally decides it’s safe and I’m not about to scream at her, she lets loose, her soft giggles quickly giving way to loud chortles.

“This means war,” I say, playfully narrowing my eyes and lunging for her with the roller.

The next ten minutes pass in a flash of color, fits of laughter, and more paint on our clothes than on the actual walls. When she finally collapses and calls a truce, I fall down on my back next to her, my breathing hard from the workout I just got.

After my heart rate returns to a normal pace, I roll over onto my side, facing her. She does the same, her hand coming up to prop her head as she looks at me. There’s a smudge of paint under her left eye, and her once sleek ponytail is now in wild disarray around her face.

She looks beautiful.

Without thinking, I reach over and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fall down to the floor as her cheeks flame, a shy smile coming across her face.

“What?” I ask, surprised at her reaction.

“Nothing. It’s just…I’ve always wanted a guy to do that. I always see it in movies. But that’s the first time I’ve ever experienced it firsthand.”

I want to follow up her words with a kiss, but I know that would be pushing my luck. So, instead, I settle for a smile before climbing to my feet.

“Come on, Disney,” I say, referencing her hopelessly romantic comment, and extend a hand down to her. “We’d better get back to work.”

* * *

Lexi smiles up at me as I set her plate down in front of her.

“This smells delicious,” she says, her eyes ravenous as she takes in the steak, baked potato, and green beans before her.

We got so caught up in painting and our idle chatter today that neither of us had the thought to break for lunch. When my stomach grumbled so loud that even she couldn’t ignore it, we looked at the clock and realized we’d spent the last ten hours painting.

Time flies when you’re having fun.

After our paint war, Lexi and I fell into an easy conversation. Nothing profound, mind you. I still don’t have any idea what makes this girl tick or what she might be running from. But she talked for hours about her sister and her new nieces. And how much she’d been enjoying fixing up her old house.

I threw in a few tidbits of information about myself—mostly related to my youth and growing up, helping out my uncle—just enough to keep the conversation flowing and not seem like I was hanging on her every word, which was exactly what I’d been doing.

Watching her talk about her family changed her entire demeanor. Her face didn’t just brighten up when she spoke about Ella and her girls; her entire body also shifted. She used her hands more when she talked, acting out whatever story she was telling as best as she could. There was a lightness to her tone that wasn’t present whenever she spoke about any other subject.

If there is one thing I’m able to surmise from today, it’s that Lexi really, truly loves her family.

She doesn’t love them for what they can do for her, which is something I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. It doesn’t matter to her if her sister is the wealthiest or poorest person on the planet. She loves Ella for exactly who she is. And it’s refreshing as hell.

When she realized the late hour, however, she immediately clammed up and thanked me for my help. She tried to offer me some money for my time, which I declined. Then, we had a few awkward moments before she excused herself to take a shower, which was my cue to leave.

Only I wasn’t ready for the day to end. So, instead of saying my good-byes and walking home, I somehow managed to sweet-talk her into dinner at my place. It might have taken a bit of pouting and bribery on my part, but none of that matters now. Not with her sitting across from me.

When I went to the store a few days ago, I made sure to fill the fridge with plenty of nonalcoholic alternatives. I have no idea what she likes to drink, so I made sure to get a little bit of everything.

When I listed off her choices when she first arrived, she giggled and said, “Nothing like having a fully stocked bar at your fingertips, huh?”

Little did she know I’d done it for her.

Now, as she sips her sparkling lemonade, I’m glad I had the foresight to stock up. I didn’t want a repeat of our first dinner date. I know there is more to the story other than her not drinking. I sensed it in the way she’d said the words. But I’m not going to push her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.

It’s my job to ensure that happens.

We eat in silence, both of us too hungry to bother with pleasant conversation while shoveling food in our mouths. She insists on rinsing the dishes when we’re both done eating, and I catch her staring out at the dock as she stands at the sink.

I walk up behind her, stopping just shy of pressing against her back. “Would you like to go sit by the fire?” I ask, my voice soft and husky.

She slowly turns around, her eyes roving over my face that’s mere inches from her own. She doesn’t step back, however, and doesn’t try to get around me. She stares into my eyes a moment longer before she finally drops her gaze and clears her throat. “I should go.”

I nod, allowing her space to free herself from where she’s trapped between my body and the counter. “I’ll walk you.”

I fall into step beside her as we make our way the short distance to her house.

When we reach her front porch and her newly finished stairs, she gives me a small smile and a nod. “Good night, Ian.”

As her hand closes on the doorknob, I speak, “Come hiking with me tomorrow.” I meant to phrase it as a question, but instead, it came out as more of a plea.

We managed to finish up most of the painting today, and I hate the possibility of not seeing her in the morning. So, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

Lexi turns and looks at me over her shoulder, as if trying to gauge whether I’m serious or not.

“There are some great trails near here. I’ve been wanting to get out and give them a try before the weather turns.” It’s not a lie. I’ve seen several mountain trails while out on my morning runs. I’ve been dying to travel down them, but I figure I’d probably do better with some hiking boots and mountain gear rather than a pair of battered running shoes and some gym shorts. “I’d love it if you joined me.”

Her face is unreadable as she takes me in at the bottom of her stairs. I start racking my brain for any other reasons why she should accompany me because I know she’s going to say no.

So, I’m surprised when I hear her say, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ian.”

I practically float back to my house. She said yes. I’m going to go hiking with Lexi tomorrow. We’re going to be alone together all damn day—just her, me, and the trees. It’s going to be fucking amazing.

Then, the thought hits me.

I don’t have any hiking boots.

Fuck.