The house was too quiet. He woke up at sunrise to find Noelle gone and Cheddar lying on the pillow next to him.

Odd that he didn’t hear her leave. He never slept. Not lately. But she’d managed to slip into his life so thoroughly he hadn’t heard the shower running.

Then later he caught himself standing in the bathroom, just breathing in the smell of her shampoo and studying all the brushes, tubes, and boxes of stuff she didn’t really need. She was beautiful, with or without them.

Although catching himself daydreaming about her things did make him question his sanity.

For years he’d worked hard to park in neutral. Now his mind churned with imagery of a spunky blonde.

With the practice closed for the holiday, he’d made a few phone calls to check on patients.

Mara Gaccione was still feeling pregnant with no signs of contractions, but she needed a refill of her prenatal vitamins. Her niece, Sophia, was getting over her cold.

Stella King said the side effects from the heart medication were minimal, and her grandson was feeling fine after he had his tetanus booster. She assured Ethan her grandson would think twice about trying to pull another squirrel’s tail, which made him laugh.

Ethan also called Ernie to remind the deputy he was due for an annual physical in the new year.

When he finally ran out of people to call, he figured a day of reading sounded like the perfect way to pass the time, yet he couldn’t seem to concentrate.

He scratched Cheddar’s chin, then stared at the office’s copy of the medical journal with curled corners and ripped pages. The magazine, flipped opened to an interesting article on the effects of altitude change on anemia patients, sat unread. He smoothed the edges. A reminder he needed to find a way to pull Tom into the twentieth century. Electronic versions were available, yet his uncle insisted on receiving paper copies.

As he smoothed the edges of the pages, the sexy singer’s sensual curves kept interrupting his rational thoughts.

Usually the consummate student, he sat staring at a page filled with incomprehensible words. He chided himself.

Trapper nudged his leg. “Hey, buddy. You miss her, don’t you, boy? You better get over it. She's going to leave us both soon.”

The sound of a car pulling into the drive produced a firecracker thrill. She's home.

Trapper made his way to the front door while he slid out of the high back leather chair to follow. He opened the door at the same time she reached the upper step.

“Hey,” she offered with her usual cheerful smile.

His heart did a tapitty-tap-tap upon seeing those beautiful green eyes so full of glee.

“Here. Let me help you.” He lifted the bakery box and a bag from her hand. “How was your morning?”

“Busy. I filled in at both the café and bakery. Jenna sent home bear claws. She said they’re your favorite.”

He could smell the cinnamon and brown sugar and the buttery cream sauce. “I don’t have a favorite. All her stuff is good.”

Noelle pointed at the bag. “Mom sent me home with Christmas leftovers. I think we’ll need to freeze some of it. Otherwise, it will go bad before we have a chance to eat it.”

We. She said the word we. His heart did a fist-bump with his chest.

Yet her mood suddenly changed and dragged a bit. Her steps slowed and lacked energy, and she shuffled across the wood planks toward the kitchen. He watched and waited. Could she be regretting last night? He hoped not. Touching her. Feeling her move. Being inside her. It was magical.

“You’re quiet today.”

Her dull, lifeless eyes met his. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Oh, no. Disappointment surpassed his delight from the previous moment. “If it's about last night…”

She waved him off and concentrated on stacking the to-go boxes in the refrigerator. “It’s not.”

He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, refusing to reach out. Touching her would lead to things he promised himself wouldn't happen. Sex confused things, and he didn’t want their intimacy to force choices that weren’t right for her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her face creased into thoughtful lines. She folded the paper bag and placed it in between the refrigerator and kitchen cabinet, then scratched Trapper’s chest. The lines next to her eyes deepened.

“Have you ever been in a situation where everything you thought you knew about life was wrong?”

“That’s a pretty complicated question. Do you mind being a tad more specific?”

She paced back and forth along the kitchen island. Realizing she needed more space, he relocated to the stool at the counter.

She stopped to stare out the kitchen window, toward the mountain ridge. “My mom…” The desperation in her voice escalated, but her tone had sobered.

He leaned closer so he could hear her.

“…all my life I thought my mom didn’t want me to sing. I mean she supported me, sure, but deep down, I thought she never wanted me to sing.”

“But singing is part of who you are. I can’t imagine Maggie asking you to give up the thing that’s most important to you.”

Shuffling back into the kitchen, she hoisted herself up on the counter, her legs dangling over the side. “She didn't. I’ve been going over every conversation I can remember. Not once did she ever say, ‘I don’t want you to be a singer.’ I just made an assumption based on how she felt about my father. He was the lead singer in a band. On the rare occasions he came up in conversations, she’d always change the subject, or get emotional.”

“And you thought if you sang, it would make her feel bad.”

“I hated my father. A guy I never knew. He made my mom sad, and I thought she never remarried because he’d hurt her.” She swung her legs, her feet beating against the cabinet doors. “I wanted to be nothing like him. I didn't want to look like him. I didn't want to sing like him.”

Oh, I totally get where you are. “Yet when you looked in the mirror, you were both the things you didn’t want to be.”

Her startled eyes lifted to his. “Exactly.”

She rubbed at a spot on her jeans while a sullen cloud hung over her, sending her inward. Cheddar, sensing her mood, jumped into her lap. She automatically stroked the orange cat, but her motions were subconscious. Slowly she lifted her head. “All day I’ve been thinking about how my assumptions drove everything in my life.”

“You mean as far as singing?”

“As far as everything.” She pulled Cheddar to her chest. “Going to Nashville. Which auditions I chose. The type of music I sang. R&B was his thing. I avoided Rhythm and Blues even though I love the insistent beat and the raw grit of the music. I love how R&B songwriters write about triumphs and failures and a little of everything in between. There are no limitations. Yet I refused to try out for any of those bands or a lead singing position.”

“Yet you’re auditioning for a band in LA.”

“Yes, to be a backup singer and a songwriter.”

An understanding floated in the air like little bubbles that suddenly connected, and made him smile. Maybe he really wasn’t alone. “I get not wanting to follow a parent’s footsteps.”

“I thought he was the world’s biggest jerk.” She rubbed at her temple. “I believed he’d gotten drunk after finding out mom was pregnant, then got on his motorcycle. Riding drunk is a death certificate waiting to be signed.”

“Did you think your dad didn’t want you?”

“Yeah. Guess I was wrong.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “Sounds like you’ve been sabotaging your own dreams. What are you going to do about it?”

“My dream of being a songwriter hasn’t changed. And I’ve made a commitment to my friend, so I need to see this audition through. Depending on the outcome, I guess I'll figure out what comes next.”

He’d like to help her decide what came next, but he needed to stay out of her life. She needed to decide what was best for her, and obviously she had much bigger plans than Elkridge.

“First things first. Don't you need to write a few songs? Maybe you can tap into your R&B roots.”

“Don’t remind me. Jade called again this morning, demanding to know where the song sheets were.” She heaved out a long, frustrated breath, then an idea grabbed hold and her body vibrated with excitement. “There’s a box in mom’s garage with a whole bunch of music in it. It was my dad’s. I bet if I plow through some of the old stuff, I can get a few new ideas.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious. “That’s the way to go after it.”

She hopped off the counter and went to pass him. With no idea what he was doing, he snagged her wrist. Questions filled her eyes.

If he was going to lose her, he wanted to hold on to the few days they had left. “I’m truly happy for you.” He loosened his grip.

“I know. I can see it in your face.” The tension from seconds earlier eased. “This may sound odd, but I wonder if maybe fate pushed me into that snowbank. I needed this time to reflect. I feel so alone sometimes, and tend to second-guess whether I can do this singing thing.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to. You are an amazing woman, Noelle.” He spoke with a soft caress, hoping she’d open to him. “You are never alone. There is a whole town here to support you. Plus you have me.”

She lifted her fingers to touch his face. She took her time, trailing her fingertips over his morning stubble. “I wish you could let go of the past.” Her eyes searched his. “You have so much to offer this world with your brilliant, beautiful mind.”

“We’re taught in medical school to keep our emotional distance, yet hold onto the empathy. It’s the best way to serve our patients’ needs.”

She placed her hand over his heart. “I get that, but not everyone is your patient. You don’t have to keep everyone out. You can let a few of us in.”

“I don’t know how.”

She lifted onto her toes and brushed her lips across his, then added a kiss to his cheek, then forehead, then nose, finally resting her cheek against his. “Yes you do. You just have to stop working so hard to keep the world out.”

He closed his eyes against the emotions battering him and causing him to shrink inward. “Noelle. Do you know what you're asking of me?”

She lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “Yes. I’m asking you to face your past. I’m asking you to embrace it so you can let it go. I want you to find a new happy place.”

He opened his eyes to see her. There was her gentle, hopeful, kindness. He wanted to hold onto her goodness, but felt the past pulling him back. He fought off the crushing hurt.

“I’ll need some time.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand, telling him she’d be there. Loaning him her gentle strength.

“Then let's do this. Let’s work on changing our lives together.”

She turned his hand over and started doodling invisible circles on his palm. “When do you want to start?”

“Now. You’ve only got two days to prepare a song.”

She leaned forward and kissed the corners of his mouth.

“What was that for?”

“For showing me what brave looks like.”

He wondered how she did it. She made him feel strong and vulnerable at the same time. He pulled her in between his legs, needing her close. He urged her to lean into him. When they were chest to chest, he caressed her back and pressed his nose to the crook of her neck to take in her essence, his lips resting against her hot skin.

She tilted her head back, pulling her hair away from her neck. He nipped and sucked her skin. Her soft mewling encouraged him. He threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged.

“You’re so beautiful.” He blew on her shoulder and watched chill bumps cascade down her neck and shoulders and back.

“Please.” He understood her plea.

She wanted him, his touch, but he hesitated. He made a promise. He needed to keep it. For her sake. He placed his hands on her hips and pushed. Her urgent whimpers made him pause. He groaned.

“Ethan, take your first step forward.” She rested her hand on his crotch. “You want to let me in, I can feel it.”

“Noelle, I don’t want to—”

“Hurt me? I won't let you.” She pulled on his arm, forcing him to stand, then placing a hesitant hand on the waist of his sweatpants.

“Are you sure?”

She stepped back and slid her jeans down her legs.

He closed his eyes, but he still saw her standing in front of him, asking him to trust her—want her. He didn’t need to see her to know she wouldn’t hurt him, not intentionally.

She wouldn’t be the type of woman who would hide a pregnancy from him, or take a lover because her husband was working too many hours.

Sweet Noelle wouldn’t hurt another person that way.

He tightened his grip. “Noelle. My sweet Noelle.”

He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She kissed his neck as he climbed the stairs. When he set her in the middle of his bed, she crawled backwards, then held out her hand.

“Let’s make each other feel better,” she said, her voice lush with need.

“I’ll make you feel more than just better.” He yanked off his sweatshirt and stepped out of his track pants.

She gasped. His heart leaped with pride when her appreciating gaze swept the length of him. She made him feel extraordinary. So extraordinary, he could almost burst with joy, something he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

“Ethan?”

“Hmm?” He nipped her calf, then thigh, working his way up her body.

“About that sweet thing?”

“What about it?”

“I’m not in the mood for sweet. How about salty, maybe sweaty?”

Oh, God. He'd definitely needed to go to confession after this. He leaned in and blew hot air through the fabric of her panties. She shivered and fisted his hair, pulling him higher, attacking his mouth as soon as it was within range. She nipped his lip, then his cheek.

He sucked in a breath and then laughed at her bold actions. “Do that again.”

She wrapped her arms around his back, and dug her nails in, scraping along his spine. He pulled her panties aside and thrust with one swift plunge. She gasped as her wet core accepted him with ease. He paused. “I need to get a condom.”

“I’m still on the pill.”

He trusted her. And the fact he did meant more than she’d ever know. She was leaving. How was he supposed to keep this casual when she unraveled his knotted heart? He respected her. Believed in her.

How was he supposed to feel nothing when his world exploded with a confetti celebration every time she walked through his front door?

She leaned up and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

“Holy mother of mercy.” His voice thickened.

He pulled back and thrust forward. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled upward, matching his tempo. She tugged. He pushed. She moaned. He groaned. He tried to slow the pace, but she wouldn’t let him. Her thrusts became frantic. Holy mother. He lifted higher on his forearms. He wanted to watch her take her pleasure. Take what she needed. And it thrilled him to be the one to give her paradise.

With each thrust, she opened, wanting more. She was close. So close. He could feel her muscles contract. He grabbed her ass and lifted to push deeper.

That’s it. You’re going to remember me. Remember this. This is our moment.

She tilted her head back and screamed his name, flying higher and higher until she coasted off the edge. He tried to hold on, but the way her hair spread across his pillow, the way her mouth hung open, the pure bliss on her face, made him forget to hold back. He gave her what he had, and yet he wanted to give her more.

More of everything.

His hopes.

His dreams.

He’d played it safe for so long. He collapsed on top of her, rolled, and tucked her to his side. As terrifying as it was, he wanted—no, needed—Noelle in his life.