It’s Thursday morning when I look out the window and see the only man who’s ever fucked me until I screamed. The only man who ever broke my heart. He’s dirty, dominating and sexually deviant.

The only good thing that’s ever come from me knowing Cole Frost is my three-year-old daughter, Lucy.

And she doesn’t even know he exists. Or vice versa.

And I intend to keep it that way.

“Damn, check out that ass,” says Chrissy, the receptionist, as the two of us peer out the window, watching.

Outside the Morningside Valley Vet Clinic—where I work—is Cole, his tight ass, and a film crew.

“What the hell is he doing?” I ask, more to myself than to Chrissy. My heart is racing at the sight of him—and only the backside.

“Me, hopefully later,” she says.

“Chrissy!”

She cackles a laugh. Chrissy is old enough to be my grandmother but fun enough to grab the occasion beer with after work.

“I can’t help if I like what I see,” she says.

“He’s a cocky prick.”

“I’d love for his cock to prick me,” she says, and I bump her with my shoulder. “Oh, I’m kidding, sugar!” The phone rings and she goes back to her desk. “He’s probably come to ask me to be the star in personal film. I’ll play the seedy girlfriend!” she calls, laughing again.

I stare back out the window, my heart pounding in my chest.

Three years. It’s been almost three years since I last saw him—all of him, every beautiful inch of him including that ass which, by the way, is tight and perfect and fit nicely in my hands. I feel the old stirring in me just thinking about it. That last time. It seems like I was so much younger then, definitely more naïve but so willing to give him everything, all of me. It was the most incredible experience of my life.

But it left me jaded about men, that’s for sure. And one man in particular…

Cole turns and the golden sun washes over his face, framing him perfectly. He’s laughing at something someone has said, and his blue eyes shine and the deep dimples in his chiseled face practically wink at me. And then his eyes catch mine through the window. I stop breathing completely. The last time those eyes looked into mine…

I turn on the heel of my boot and punch through the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, not caring that a dozen or so people with headphones, clipboards and various all-black attire stare back at me. I come up on Cole, back straight, standing my ground.

His eyes travel down me, appreciating the curves and, frankly, tits he so loved to…

I stop myself. Cross my arms over my chest. Why did I wear a tank top today? I’d had a flannel button-down over it but working with a fiery golden retriever, trying to draw blood from him, had made me anxious and sweaty, so I’d discarded it. Now I feel totally exposed.

“Hello, Jessa,” Cole says, that smile playing on his lips having turned into an arrogant smirk. He leans in and kisses my cheek before I know what’s happening. I jerk back. “It’s okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “Just saying hello.”

“A little pretentious, don’t you think?” I mean, really. The hello kiss? What is this, Paris? There are more livestock in Morningside Valley than people. We don’t kiss hello.

“Maybe a bit,” he admits. “City habits die hard, I guess.”

“But not country habits?” I say.

“Not at all. Those are easy to break. Thank fucking God.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously, what are you doing here at my clinic? You can’t be filming here.”

“First off,” he says, “it’s not your clinic. If memory serves, it’s Dr. Johnson’s clinic.”

I scoff. His memory, my ass.

“Don’t try to get all technical…” Not to mention the dig he’s probably making at the fact that it’s not my clinic. I’m just the lowly vet technician.

“Second,” he adds, “I’m not at the clinic. This here,” he says, gesturing to the sidewalk, “is public property.”

“Which just happens to be right outside the clinic.”

“Just happens to be,” he says, that smart-ass smile back on his face.

I’m sure my cheeks are all pink and bright and it’s not from the morning’s rising heat.

“Cole, stop messing around,” I say. “What are you doing here? You haven’t been around for two years and, if my memory serves correctly—and it does—you were all too happy to get the heck of here for the big city.”

“I wasn’t that happy,” he says.

“You called Morningside Valley a town full of shit-kickers, hicks and dreamless souls.”

“Come on. I didn’t say that.”

“Verbatim.”

At the time he’d said it, I hadn’t thought he’d meant me in any of those descriptions. But then he left so suddenly, without a word, and I realized that maybe he did see me that way. A dreamless hick, kicking the cow shit in the fields. Country bumpkin. He never could see the beauty of this town, this land. He always thought he was too good for it. But now here he stands, acting like he’s a damn celebrity gracing us peasants with his presence.

Which, in a way, he is. And that pisses me off even more.

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on the heels of his boots. He gazes out across the gentle slopes of the fields beyond as if he’s thinking about his whole damn life instead of answering my simple question.

“So?” I prompt.

“We’re shooting a short documentary about—well, about me. I don’t know if you heard but I started a little company. Peak Expedition. It’s a little boot and clothing—”

“Yeah, Cole. I heard of it.” Everyone knows about Peak Expedition.

This guy bails for a couple of years, leaves me totally high and dry not to mention his own father and his father’s farm, and what does he do? He starts a clothing company. Like, outdoor gear. As if begrudgingly working on the family farm made him a bona fide cowboy. “Those yours?” I nod to the flashy boots on his feet.

“Yeah,” he says, turning them to show me. Black, shiny, a bit of a heel and a pointy toe. “Just one of many we sell. Hand-stitched, and the top here is all one piece, not two like most. Leather imported from Italy.”

“Great for working the fields,” I say dryly.

“Well,” he says, as if he’s a bit embarrassed. “These run a couple thousand, so maybe not these ones specifically…”

“And tell me, do you dry clean your jeans? I mean, they’re perfectly pressed and look fresh off the assembly line.” I glance at his jeans and try not to think about how well he fills them out, especially there in the crotch. I shift my stance uneasily.

“All American made,” Cole says, not missing a beat and continuing on his sales pitch like I’m a potential investor.

Who is this guy? What happened to the Cole I knew, who dreamed big but also loved so tenderly and was still trying to figure it all out? Where’d he go? I don’t know who this person is. And I don’t want to know.

“Good for you, Cole. I’m sure everyone will be really impressed.”

He eyes me again, but instead of looking me up and down, his eyes stay locked on mine. My breath becomes shallow as I wait—for what, I don’t know, but it’s so damn hard not to lose myself when he looks at me like this.

“I can send you over some gear. I remember you have small feet. Size six?”

I don’t know if I want to cry, laugh or slap him. “Gee, you’re so generous. As tough as it is, I think I’m gonna pass. Although it might do your company some good to have real people wear your gear—you know, people who actually know what it’s like to work the farm, living in the country, walk the fields. Probably pretty different than hitting the city pavement, am I right?”

“I know what it’s like to work the fields, Jessa,” he says.

“Yeah, clearly.” I wave my hand over the whole of his body. “What does Vogue call this? Farming haute couture?”

“Come on,” he says. The cocky smile has slipped away. “I am from here. I did grow up on my dad’s farm.”

I only feel a little guilty for giving him such a hard time. Then I remember what he did to me—to us—and my frustration comes flaring up once more.

“Using that story to sell hand-stitched Italian leather boots?” I lob at him with my best sarcastic voice.

He looks down at the ground for a moment, and the silence weighs the space between us. Just the humming of the highway off in the distance. Part of me wants to slip into his arms and feel his warmth seep into me.

But it’s not hard to remind myself why I can never do that. He left. He didn’t even try to contact me—that’s what really kills me. Bailed without a word. And now here he stands outside my place of work as if not a day has passed.

No explanation, no shame.

Finally he looks back up at me, locking me in with his eyes. “Got me a penthouse in the city and quarterly trips to Italy,” he says. “All in all, not so bad.”

“Mr. Frost,” calls one of the many minions standing by, waiting for Cole to finish with me. The woman wears black headphones with a mic and confers with the iPad she carries like a baby. “We’ve got good light over at the farm if you want to head over there now. We can get you set up on the tractor, show you sowing some seeds or something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, and not so quietly.

“Sure, Melissa,” Cole says, giving me a hard look before glancing away. “We’re done here.”

The woman walks off and I’m steaming mad. Cole turns his back to me as the crew loads up the several black SUVs parked nearby.

And then he begins walking away, like he did so many years ago. I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Good seeing you, Jessa.”

* * *

I have to admit, as strong and tough as I want to act, when Cole leaves I feel totally deflated.

Later on, at home, the only thing that comforts me is Lucy. She reminds me that she’s all I need to feel whole.

I take such joy in watching Lucy play. I worry about her being an only child. I think of my own childhood growing up with my sister, Avery, and all the fun games we would invent together. Right now Lucy is draping my head with old ribbons—I think maybe I’m a princess? I may be a prisoner, I’m not sure.

“Stay there, Momma,” she says. “I’ll get the tea.”

Ah, so maybe we’re friends.

Life was sad and uncertain when I was pregnant with her. I couldn’t wait to meet her, but the fact that her father wasn’t there was a real kick to the gut. I never imagined my life turning out like that. I’ve always thought I’d end up like my parents, happily married for decades with two or three kids who had each other’s backs.

When Lucy was born, and I saw her face, nothing else mattered. Of course there were moments in the hospital room I wished Cole had been there, but seeing Lucy, I realized her happiness was my only priority.

“Momma, drink your tea,” Lucy says. “It’s getting cold!”

Lucy reminds me of him too frequently for comfort sometimes—the way her mouth gets when she pouts, the way her eyes twinkle when she sees something new. That’s Cole, and it crushes me every day. But I’m moving forward just like I’ve always done, and Lucy and I are the best team on earth.

“Knock, knock!” I hear.

“Come in!” I call.

Avery walks into the living room. Lucy’s face lights up when she sees her aunt, all signs of proper tea party gone. Lucy holds her hands out for Avery, who immediately picks her up.

“How’s my big girl?” Avery says.

“Hi, Aunt Av,” Lucy says, patting Avery’ hair.

“You ready to come to my house?” my sister says to her.

“I want to go to pet the goats.”

“That’s exactly what we’ll do tomorrow,” Avery says. “Nana and Pawpaw are coming over. Nana made chocolate sheet cake!”

After seeing Cole, I put in an emergency call to my sister. I didn't tell her about him, but I said I could use a night off if she wanted to have Lucy over. Of course, Avery didn’t even hesitate.

But when she finds out that Cole is back, she’s not going to be happy.

“Lucy’s bag is by the front door,” I say, getting up from the chair to see them out. “Everything should be there.”

“If not, I’ve got a bunch of backup stuff for her at my place.” Lucy holds Avery’s hand as they walk slowly to the front door. “See you tomorrow, sis.”

“Tell Mom and Daddy I said hi,” I say. “Send pictures!”

“We will, Momma,” Lucy says. She’s figured out how to open my iPhone, so I’ve had to put the locks on it. She’s really been getting into everything lately, so I have be vigilant about keeping things out of her tiny hands. But she still loves snapping pictures and videos, and loves making funny faces for the camera.

Avery buckles Lucy into her car seat. I smother Lucy’s face in kisses until she laughs and squirms.

“Be good for Aunt Avery, okay?”

“Okay, Momma. I love you!”

“I love you, too, big girl. Thanks, Avs,” I tell Avery as I shut the back door.

I wave as I watch them drive down the road, a piece of my heart going with them. Nights alone are a luxury, but I always miss my girl.

Back inside I grab a beer and plop down on the couch. I let the quiet wash over me. It only takes a moment for my thoughts to go back to him.

It’s always him.

Always has been, sometimes I’m afraid it always will be. Like maybe I just won’t ever be able to truly get over him.

That man has rattled me, that’s for sure. Why is he back, anyway? Why was it so necessary to film that whatever documentary right in front of the building I work in? That can’t be a coincidence.

Cole had once begged me to leave town with him. I was only eighteen, and he was a bit older. He hated living on the farm with his father, hated life here in Morningside Valley—he refused to see the beauty in it—and one night, late, he showed up in a frenzy.

“Let’s go, right now,” he’d said, his eyes wild, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Go where? Do what?” I’d asked.

“Anything! Whatever we want! Whatever you want. But please, let’s just go. I'm dying in this town. Don’t you understand that?”

“Cole, I can’t,” I’d said. “I just…can’t.”

His urgency took me aback. He paced like a caged animal.

“I have to go,” he said. “I can’t take it anymore—this place, my father.” He took my face in his hands, and I remember his eyes softening when they looked into mine. “I’m not leaving you. Understand that. I just need some time to get my head on straight. Let me go and get settled and we’ll figure it out. I’ll call you.”

“Of course,” I’d said, brushing his cheek. “Whatever you need.”

He pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply, with urgency and passion. When he stopped, my head was spinning.

And then he left. I thought he’d be gone for a couple of days but no. He was gone. I tried to contact him, and then again when I knew Lucy was coming. I got nothing back from him. Zero.

That was three years ago.

Cole likes to live his life on the surface, never committing, never showing his feelings, never getting in deep. I knew that going in but what can I say—the boy is fine. And he made me feel incredible—sexy and smart. Stupid me, I thought he felt the same way. I thought he was falling for me. Instead I was drowning alone in those bright blue eyes.

But what really sank me was his lips. His tongue. And his hands. I scoot down on the couch as I think back to the things he did to my body, how crazy-good he made me feel.

I slip my hand into my panties and picture the way his eyes burned into mine as his fingers slipped passed my wet walls, pumping into me before slipping out and circling my hard clit then dipping back into me again. And again. And again. I think of the way his lips sucked on my hard nipples as I held his head close to my chest, always wanting more, kissing the top of his sandy brown hair. Cole is the only man who has ever made me moan and scream so much that I thought the neighbors would surely hear.

Cole never was the nice sweet guy like the ones I knew in high school. Those guys would wait for the girl to kiss them, would let the girl show them what they wanted. Not Cole. He was a man who took the reins, and he steered me into pure ecstasy.

I’d never had an orgasm in my life until Cole fucked me with his mouth. I picture his head between my legs, circling my wet clit with my finger but imagining it’s his tongue. My breathing is shallow and all I can see is his head between my legs, and wishing he were here and damning him for what he did when he was here.

Enough damage to last a lifetime, but also gave me enough ecstasy to last ten lifetimes.

In my mind I push his head deeper into me and he sucks me harder, teasing and torturing my clit until I think I might die. I picture myself coming all over his face, and when I explode into orgasm, I pretend I’m screaming out his name. In reality, it’s only a whimper.

He may be back in town, but he’s not here with me. In a way, nothing has changed.