She finished my song as though she knew all the words.

I didn’t even have the words.

Aerie did.

She walked right into the room without pause, sitting down beside me as if I were a book and all she had to do to continue the story was turn the page.

I wanted to work with her. Now more than ever. Not for the challenge, the money, or even the recognition. Hell, at this point, I didn’t even care about proving to my dad that I could handle this career.

Ten and I worked well together. The songs we collabed on for his album were epic.

This could be more.

I felt it. If she was already finishing my sentences, combining my melody with hers… what would it be like when we got to know each other?

“Earth to Nate!” Aerie’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Do you want coffee?” she said, enunciating each word like she was talking to a two-year-old. As she did, she waved a pod for the coffee machine in front of my face.

“Is that even a question?” I scoffed, then turned my attention to the room.

The ceilings were high and pitched. Huge wooden beams soared overhead, and a large wrought iron fixture hung from the center. There was a huge marble-topped island, a farmhouse-style sink, and a double refrigerator big enough to hold food for a year.

Windows lined the wall, looking out onto the property, which was wooded with trees. Sunlight shone through, lighting up the room.

“Cream?” Aerie asked as I stared back up at the ceiling.

I nodded, and her body disappeared behind the open door of the fridge. Curious, I moved behind her and peered in, wondering how much food she had. It was only partially filled.

Aerie handed me a bottle of creamer over her shoulder then reached back in, her fingers snatching a cup of Greek yogurt.

I made a face. “Ew. What’s that for?”

“Breakfast,” she replied, shutting the fridge behind her.

“That is not breakfast,” I retorted. “That’s nasty.”

Her brows shot up. Her hair was rumpled again today. Not messy, just not as straight and sleek as it was the day we met. Instead, it waved around her face and skimmed her collarbone when she moved.

She had on more of those socks again. The kind that reached just below her knees. These were gray with two thick white stripes at the top of each. They reminded me of a jersey, except on her legs.

Sadly, she was wearing pants. They were black and tight. Violet called them leggings. Her light-blue top was cropped, but not so much that I could see her belly. Though, I bet if she reached over her head, I’d see a glimpse of skin.

“You don’t like yogurt?” she seemed surprised.

“Does anyone?” I wondered. “It’s like swallowing slime.”

Aerie wrinkled her nose. “That was graphic.”

“I know.” Going over to the pantry (it was a distressed-looking door that literally had Pantry written on it), I stuck my head in. “Where’s the Fruity Pebbles?” I called out to her.

“At the grocery store…”

I gasped. “You don’t have any Fruity Pebbles!”

“I thought only four-year-olds ate that.”

“You offend me.” I told her, backtracking to the mug she was lifting off the Keurig. I took it out of her hand. “Dibs.”

“That was mine,” she growled.

“I called dibs.” I added a generous amount of cream to my coffee.

“You can’t call dibs on coffee.”

I lifted it and took a sip. “Just did.”

Muttering under her breath, she turned away to brew another cup.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“I saw that!”

I grimaced. “I can’t believe you don’t have any Fruity Pebbles. I don’t know if I can stay in a house like this.”

She turned and smiled sweetly. “Should I show you to the door?”

Carrying my coffee back to the fridge, I started pulling things out and laying them on the expansive island.

“What are you doing?”

“Since there’s no decent breakfast, I’m going to have to improvise.” I slapped an unopened pack of bacon on the counter beside the eggs.

Her voice was incredulous. “You cook?”

I looked around the large open door and lifted one brow. “You don’t?”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “I don’t have time.”

“So that’s why you eat slime.” I concluded.

“It’s healthy!”

“So’s Brussel sprouts.” I pushed the door closed and added the rest of my ingredients on the counter. “But I don’t eat those either.”

Without another word, Aerie carried her mug, the slime, and a spoon over and climbed on a chair at the island. With her chin propped in her hand, she regarded me. “You’re really going to cook all that?”

“You’re going to help me,” I informed her.

She blanched.

I spread out my arms. “You have all the time in the world this morning.”

“I’ll just have this.” She poked at the container with her spoon.

I leaned a hip into the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t know how.”

She shot up straight. “I do, too!”

“Prove it.”

Aerie jumped off the stool and came around the island, pushing up the sleeves on her T-shirt. “Fine.”

She stood there for long moments, staring down at all the stuff on the island without saying a word. When her dark-brown gaze finally peeked up at me, she asked, “Well, what were you going to make?”

I laughed. “I knew it!”

Aerie’s expression darkened, and it was like this veil—no, a wall—came down over her features. Her mouth flattened, and she shoved back away from the counter.

“Whoa,” I said, catching her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“If you think I’m going to stand here and listen to you make fun of me for something I don’t know how to do—”

Yikes.

I hit a nerve.

Clearly, Aerie was used to someone poking fun at her, and not in a nice way.

“Hey, hey,” I said, towing her back around. “I’m not making fun of you.”

She gave me an angry, hard stare. The need to flee was so prominent inside her I felt her hands shake with it.

What did he do to you?

I wanted to pull her across the rest of the distance between us, to fold her against my chest and rest my chin on top of her head. I never wanted anything so much.

I settled for stroking my thumb on the inside of her wrist. “I was joking. Not laughing at you. I would never do that.”

Her eyes lifted. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You like omelets?”

“What kind?” she replied begrudgingly.

“Veggie. Gooey cheese. With bacon and toast dripping with butter.”

“I’d have to work out for three hours if I ate that.”

I snorted. “You’re on vacation. And you don’t need to work out.” After a brief pause, I took a chance, lowering my voice. “I think you look perfect the way you are.”

The wall on her features crumbled. Her entire body relaxed. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ve never made an omelet before.” Her voice was hesitant.

“I’ll teach you.”

Before she could say anything else, or think of another reason to run, I plopped a bowl down in front of her and then a carton of eggs. “Here. Crack some eggs into this bowl.”

She gave me a blank stare.

“No wonder you live on slime,” I muttered and stepped up close to grab an egg. With her watching, I cracked the white shell on the side of the bowl, opened it, and dumped the contents inside.

I watched with some amusement when she picked up the white porcelain mug and took a sip of her coffee as though she needed fortifying to crack an egg.

When she was done, she took the egg and followed what I had done just moments before. Some of the white squirted out of the shell and toward her. She made a small sound and jerked back.

I moved forward, grabbing her hands, still around the partially cracked egg. “The goal is to put it in the bowl.” I reminded her, guiding her back over.

She giggled. “Sorry,”

“It’s all good,” I told her, staying close as she dropped the shells on the counter beside the one I had discarded.

“There,” she announced, as if she were good and accomplished. It was freaking adorable.

I picked up another egg and handed it over. “You aren’t done yet, princess.”

She made a disgusted sound. “Princess.”

“You look like one from where I’m standing.”

She rotated her head enough that our eyes could connect, just barely. I settled a little more firmly at her side, nudging my hip into the island and delivering a crooked smile.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Far from it,” I said low. “And I think you know that.”

A beat of attraction passed between us. Then she pulled away. Her stare went back down to the eggs. “Yeah, well, maybe I once was a princess, but I’m sure as hell not anymore.”

I cocked my head to the side. “No?”

She shook her head definitively. “According to some, I’m a toad.”

I laughed.

She glanced up sharply.

My laughter died away. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She glanced down at the egg, avoiding my gaze.

“Shit,” I swore. “Someone actually called you a toad?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I lifted my hand, poised to stroke down the back of her head. I stopped just before I made contact, suddenly aware of my actions. “That why you came here so fast?”

She shrugged. “Partly.”

“And the rest?”

She stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”

I dropped my hand from her and stepped back. “Fair enough.” I pointed to the eggs. “Finish those.”

I started to move off in search of a pan but suddenly faltered. I stood there debating if maybe what I was thinking was wrong, if it would only push her away further.

I wasn’t one to overthink things—much—so I spun back around.

She squeaked when I clasped her gently around the top of her elbow. The egg she had just cracked slipped out of her hand and into the bowl, shell and all.

She gasped and started to reach for the pieces.

“Hey,” I said, pulling her around.

Whatever she heard in my voice made her forget the food.

Her round, dark eyes collided with mine, bouncing between them.

“You’re always gonna be a princess to me, princess.”

She made a scoffing sound, but I caught her chin and held it. “Always.”

Her soft exhale was all the reply I needed.

“C’mon,” I said, breaking the moment, not wanting it to be too heavy, but needing to make a point. “You clearly need assistance. Me showing you once was not enough.”

“You made me do that!” she announced, pointing at the shell mixed in with the eggs.

“It’s really not nice to blame other people for your own faults,” I informed her.

She gasped. She did that a lot. She was an indignant little thing.

It was sort of a turn on.

“Look,” I said right against her ear as I moved behind her, stepping so close her back came into contact with my chest. I put my arms around her, basically caging her in from behind, and reached into the bowl to pick out the shells.

She froze, went quiet, and just stood stock still while I surrounded her.

When I was done with her mess, I picked up an egg and held it in front of her. “C’mon, help me.”

Aerie put her hand over mine, and I smacked the egg into the side. Together we cracked open the egg, some of it squirting out and making her squeal and jerk back. My body was there to catch hers. The second she came fully against me, I heard her intake of breath, but said nothing.

She fit against me just right. Her hair felt like strands of silk brushing against my cheek every time I moved. Her hands were small compared to mine, her skin a warmer shade.

“Another,” I whispered into her ear, and we repeated the same thing with a fourth egg. “You try,” I said when I picked up number five. Instead of moving back, I stayed where I was.

You know, in case she needed help.

This time, Aerie mastered it by herself.

“Ha! I did it,” she said, spinning around and looking at me with a triumphant glitter in her stare.

“So you did,” I murmured, glancing down at her lips, then back up. Normally, I would have made some wisecrack…

But my brain wasn’t on full power.

“Now what?” she asked.

I snapped out of it and stepped back. “Can I trust you with a knife?” I half joked.

She nodded.

Ah… better not.

I handed her a fork instead. “Here whisk up the eggs.”

While she was doing that, I found a skillet and placed it on the stove to heat. Then I got the bacon cooking (microwave for the win!) and dropped some toast in a giant-ass toaster on the counter.

After that, I sent her to wait for the toast so she could butter it, and I began dicing up bell peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms for the omelet.

“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, watching me.

I smirked. No one ever expected someone like me to be able to eat anything other than cereal.

It was really quite insulting.

“Mom died, remember? It was just me and Dad growing up, and you have better skills in the kitchen than he does. So it was learn to cook or starve.” She didn’t say anything after I explained, so I glanced over my shoulder.

“How did she die?” Aerie asked softly.

My stomach tightened. “Cancer.”

“Cancer is vile,” she said, passion in her tone.

I was about to ask her about her reaction, but the toast popped up and she busied herself with it and the butter. Watching her move around the kitchen was sort of like watching a four-year-old on Christmas. All wonder and excitement in her eyes.

Made me want to cook with her more.

After I had everything chopped, I poured the eggs in a pan and sprinkled in the toppings. I let it do its thing for a few moments while I found a spatula. Turning back, I noticed Aerie right near the cooktop, looking at the pan.

“C’mere,” I said, drawing her body back in front of mine again. Positioning my arms around her, I held the spatula out for her to take. Once she did, I closed my hand around hers and held onto the handle of the pan. “Like this,” I instructed.

I showed her how to lift the edges of the omelet to allow more egg to cook. I moved the pan while she practiced. The only conversation was when I was telling her how to do it.

I was tempted to let the damn eggs burn, anything to keep her in my arms like this. But I figured burning breakfast would make me a terrible teacher, and the next time I pulled her into me to show her how to do something, she would think I was just putting on the moves.

I kinda was. But she didn’t need to know that.

Once the omelets, bacon, and toast were plated up, we both sat at the island to eat. After a couple bites in silence, she glanced up. “It’s good.”

“I know.”

“So humble,” she quipped.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” I asked, chewing extra loud.

“You are so annoying.” Ah, the fondness in her tone made me chew louder.

After a moment, she put aside her fork and dragged her coffee in front of her, wrapping her hands around it.

I stopped chewing like a mule and swallowed. “Princess?”

She winced, just barely, when I called her that.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“We made a good team…” She began. “Before, with your guitar.”

I smiled. “I think we could make some good music together.”

She frowned and looked back at her partly eaten food. I ate a few more bites, waiting for her to speak again.

What? I was hungry.

Gazing into her mug, she said, “I’ve been burned a lot by men in the past year.”

“I know.”

Her face jerked up. “You do?”

I shrugged one shoulder, eating another bite of egg. “It’s not hard to see. All I had to do was pay attention.”

“To the press?”

“To you, Aerie. I paid attention to you.”

“But you still called me princess.”

I set down my fork, meeting her probing stare. “Always.”

She nodded slow, then swallowed. “I’d like to work on the album with you.”

I smiled wide.

Her lips tugged upward. “But that’s all it is. Work.”

I tilted my head. “Friends?”

She considered it. I batted my eyes—you know, to make me look innocent.

I don’t think it worked.

But still she said, “Okay. Friends.”

I did a mental fist pump.

Friends. I could work with that.