Leaning against the kitchen counter, I skimmed the roommate wanted section. Sally’s boyfriend was well and truly there to stay, and I couldn’t deal with being around the loved-up couple much longer. Thankfully, they’d both left for work, which meant I had a moment to myself without all the lovey-dovey looks and whispers that were usually followed by groping and giggles.

I finished my coffee, put the mug in the sink, and headed to my room. I needed to get dressed. I had a job interview this morning and I had to ace it. I planned to knock their socks off. Staying at home with nothing to do but think was not helping me get over Beau.

I was standing in front of my closet, still in one of Beau’s oversized shirts—yes, I’d stolen it, and okay, maybe my dedication to getting over Beau wasn’t as strong as it should be—trying to decide what to wear, when someone knocked at the door.

I ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood for visitors. I also didn’t have time for whoever that was. I shoved aside my collection of LBDs and decided to go for color. For this interview, I wanted to stand out from the crowd, be remembered.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

What the hell?

Three more loud bangs had me rushing from my bedroom, positive something terrible must have happened. What if it was Sally? What if she’d been hurt?

By the time I reached my door, nerves were flapping around in my belly. I yanked it open…and froze.

Standing at my door, intense but wary eyes on me, was Beau.

“What are you doing here?” I choked out, and at the same time, unable to stop myself from taking him in, eating up every honed, muscled inch.

Somehow in the last few weeks I’d forgotten how big he was. God, he was beautiful. Burly and rough and beautiful. He was wearing jeans and a blue flannel shirt rolled up his muscled forearms. His beard looked a little scruffier and his hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. It took everything in me not to throw myself into his arms.

“Christ, it’s so good to see you,” he said, his eyes, still wary but even more intense looking over my face.

His low, gritty voice snapped me out of my stupor. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I saw something flicker in his eyes, something like hurt. It hurt me to see it, even though I didn’t understand it.

“Can I come in?” he said instead. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

I bit my lip. Letting him in was a terrible idea. I was in love with this man, and I knew he didn’t feel the same way. What could he possibly have to say to me?

I stared into his eyes and no matter how hard I tried to work up the words, I couldn’t ask him to leave. “You came all this way just to talk to me?”

“Yes.” His eyes dropped to the shirt I was wearing, his shirt, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

My face heated but I didn’t comment. What could I say? I wear it and pretend your arms are around me?

I stepped back quickly, letting him into my apartment. After the way I’d lied to him about who I was, the least I could do was hear him out.

He walked in and I noticed he had a duffel bag with him. “You’re staying in the city?”

He dropped it and dipped his chin—then he strode toward me, a determined look on his face that had self-preservation kicking in with force. If he touched me, I’d fall to pieces.

I stumbled back, lifting up my hands to ward him off. He stopped an inch from my palms. His eyes were a little wild, his nostrils flaring.

“Don’t do that,” he rasped. “Please, don’t do that.”

I shook my head. “This is a bad idea, Beau, and you know it. You know why.”

“I thought I did, but I was wrong,” he said. “I was blind and foolish, so deep in denial I missed what was right in front of me.” He took a step forward, closing that last inch so my hands pressed against his hard chest.

“Beau…” I whispered.

“I don’t have that problem anymore.”

I stilled, swallowing hard. “No?”

He shook his head.

“And how did you come to this sudden realization?” I asked, heart racing so hard I was light-headed.

“I spent three weeks without you.” His jaw clenched. “They were the worst three weeks of my life. I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

I jolted, pulling back, but his hands shot up, wrapping around mine and holding them to the warmth of his body. I shook my head. “Don’t,” I said, starting to freak out. I couldn’t put myself through this again.

“Don’t?” he repeated. “Don’t tell you how much of a mess I am without you? That I barely left my place in three weeks. That I haven’t slept, that your face is all I see when I close my eyes, that your voice is constantly in my head.”

“Beau—”

“Don’t tell you how much I goddamn love you?” he said, voice ragged.

My fingers flexed convulsively against his chest. “What?”

“I love you, Freya.”

“You love me?”

His breath rattled from him as he pulled me closer and lifted me in his massive arms. “So fucking much.”

I was stunned speechless as he carried me to the couch and sat down, pulling me into his lap.

“When my mom left and my dad died, I learned a lesson, and that lesson was when you love someone, you have something to lose.” He palmed the side of my face. “I didn’t want to lose anyone else, so I cut myself off from even the possibility of loving anyone…of loving you. You were right, I was punishing myself for leaving the only people that cared about me, for not being there for my grandfather, my brother, when they needed me.”

I blinked, my eyes suddenly stinging.

“But then you came into my world and shook me up. I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t feeling what I was, but deep down I knew it. I knew it, and it terrified me. Then you were stung and the thought that you could have died, that someday something like that could take you away from me…I couldn’t deal with it. I freaked out and I pushed you away.”

I cupped his face in return. “You’re not afraid anymore?”

“I’m terrified,” he said. “But I think that’s just part of loving someone.”

“You really love me?” I said, my mouth an inch from his.

“Yes,” he growled.

“Even though I can’t fish—”

“Freya—”

“Or cook?”

“I don’t care about that, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

I blinked, and a tear streaked down my cheek.

“If you want to stay here, I’ll move. I’ll live here with you. I’ll get a job. We can get an apartment. I don’t care, as long as we’re together,” he said, determination in his deep voice.

Another tear streaked down my face. “I can’t believe you’d give up your home, the mountain, for me.”

His big hands gripped me tighter. “It doesn’t feel like home without you there, not anymore. Home’s wherever you are.”

I pressed my mouth to his, kissing him with everything I had, all the emotions filling me to bursting. Finally, I lifted my head a little. “As lovely and sweet and generous as your offer is, it’s not what I want.”

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his thick neck and his arms flexed around me. “Freya, please, don’t…”

I realized how that sounded and quickly added, “Do you think you can teach this city girl to fish?”

“Are you saying you want to…” He swallowed hard again, his words trailing off.

“I love you,” I said. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. My wild man. What I’m saying is I want you to take me home.”

Beau took my face in his big, rough-skinned hands and kissed me with a fierceness that said all that needed to be said.

When he finally ended the kiss, his gaze moved over my face, my hair, lingered on my mouth then went lower, and he growled. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

I smiled. “I stole it, so I could still feel close to you.”

He huffed out a breath and dragged it off over my head, flinging it aside, and started kissing me again. The sound of my underwear tearing from my body came next. I dropped my hands to the front of his jeans, yanking them open.

A second later he was inside me.

His big body moved with mine, our mouths fused, feeding each other moans, rushed words, and desperate pleas until we came apart together.

Later I lay against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart pounding, his solid strength, his arms surrounding me, and he was right—as long as we were together, we were home.

“I love you,” I said.

He tilted my head back and pressed his lips to mine. “I love you, too.”