For the first half hour, they exchanged small talk on the first level, discussing what the auto repair shop used to be and what it meant to Deacon. They finally made it to the second level which overlooked the highway and had a nice view of the mountain tops. The interior of the small space kind of reminded her of the studio apartment she used to rent out in college. A small kitchen area, a closed off bathroom, and one great big living area.

"This is where me and my grandpa used to stay when times got rough. I was lucky that I didn't have the level converted into storage when I first bought the place. It was only meant to be used for occasional naps by the guys that used to work for me," he commented.

"So you slept here for a few months after your grandpa lost the farm?" she asked.

"Hmmm, more like two months. I sort of have an advantage. With me being a shifter, I spent a lot of time outdoors. I can navigate the mountainside in wolf form easily without getting lost."

"Even if I had a map, I'd probably still get lost out here. There's a lot of terrain to cover."

Monica picked up a small vase sitting on the windowsill and admired the hand painted flower and hummingbird design on it. She used her thumb to rub the dust away to see the hummingbird clearly.

"My grandmama painted that. When she wasn't selling bouquets, she liked to paint and take care of her gardens. A lot of her things got sold with the farm, but the vase one of the few pieces we brought down with us. What we couldn't keep here, we kept in a storage unit on the Lombardi property."

"It's beautiful," she said, holding it in her hand as she walked about the small space.

"Like you, yes. You're very beautiful," he said.

His voice was so soft that she almost missed the sentiment. He seemed to stare at her intently as if in a trace. Her temperature rose as he gazed upon her, but she blamed her reaction on the sun rays gleaming through the window and folding over her skin.

"Thank you," she said.

"So what do you think? Renovate or start over from scratch somewhere else."

"Well, if I give you my opinion, I'm going to be a little biased," she replied.

"Hmmm, a biased answer is just as good as any other," Deacon said, resting on the edge of an old metal desk.

"I think you should keep it and, if you have the resources, renovate it. It could make you good profit in the end. Aspen Valley is always in need of a good auto mechanic and I think the residents here will really appreciate the fact that they won't have to drive across town to have their car looked at."

"Good point. What's so biased about that?" he asked.

"Well, I'm biased because I kind of want you to stick around." She smiled, sheepishly.

"Kind of?" he teased, a grin twitching at his lips.

"Yeah…sort of." She blushed.

"Well, haven't you thanked me enough for that one favor," he continued.

"I like to go above and beyond." She walked toward him and placed the vase down on the metal desk beside him.

"I figured that about you. You're a good girl who has probably done nothing bad in her life," he noted.

"You'd be surprised," she countered. "I'm not exactly a saint."

He grinned and held out his arms. "Well neither am I. Some people like it and some people don't."

"Well then…I like you just fine," she told him.

He lowered his gaze momentarily and Monica witnessed as the color on his cheeks deepen in crimson. She found his reaction cute. She couldn't remember the last time she'd made a man blush.

"Is it true what they say about rogue wolves?" she asked out of the blue.

"Depends," he replied. "Where'd you learn that term?"

"I know people. After you left without saying goodbye on the night of the storm, I was so determined to find you. I didn't want you to leave here thinking that I'm some rude, spoiled rich brat or something. My dad can be a pain sometimes."

"If I were your dad, I'd be a pain about who hung out with my daughter too."

"Well, are you a rogue?"

"That term is used loosely, but I've been away from my Pack for over a year. In theory, I am known as a rogue."

"Is something wrong with the Pack here?" she asked.

"No, not at all. Under the current Alpha, the Pack is said to be in a much stronger position than they were before. Word gets around fast in any Pack and a wolf's reputation is everything. My family fell on some hard times. The things my parents and my grandpa did to survive didn't sit well with my Pack members. Even to this day, I'm the only living Remy in Aspen Valley. Naturally I've had to answer for a lot of the decisions my family made. I'm trying to make it right and do what I can."

"That's a sign that someone else's past decisions have nothing to do with your current decisions. The fact that you're trying to make things right says a lot about your character," she said.

"I've learned a lot over the years about what I really want."

"What you really want…?" She contemplated on his response. "My source also says that rogues don't stick around. Is that true?"

"Depends on who you ask, but I like to think that a rogue is just a person in search of a place where they truly belong. They long to feel wanted…and needed."

"That sounds fair, but do you think that sometimes the rogue refuses to see that he is in fact wanted and needed."

He was silent for a moment and his jaw wrinkled with his uncertain thoughts.

"Maybe the rogue has just lost his way. Maybe it takes coming across a beautiful distraction in the middle of a storm to help him find it again."

She was just inches in front of him. With him sitting on the desk and her standing, they were eye to eye. The sun gleamed against his sandy brown hair and his moonlight blue gaze bathed her tenderly. An invisible web of attraction rose between them. She took the first step to close the distance between them. She couldn't help herself and found her fingers tracing the heated veins and taut muscles on his arms. His cool breath fanned against her face on a sigh as her fingertips lightly grazed the raised mark resembling a hummingbird on his arm.

"I…uh…" she whispered.

"Monica?" His voice held an edge of uncertainty.

"I don't know what's going on with me. I've never felt this way. I keep seeing these birds in my dreams and…" She shook her head, trying to re-enact her visions. "Sometimes you're there. But usually all I see is the wolf and the birds. I don't know what it means. All those hummingbirds…" She bit her lip in frustration.

"It's okay," Deacon said, softly. "We'll figure this out."

He grabbed both of her hands with his and she squeezed reassuringly and then slipped herself between his open thighs. He let one of her hands go, slid a finger beneath her chin, and then titled her face upward. She released a sigh, falling deeper into his arms. Her heavy eyelids fluttered closed, but she parted her lips, inviting him…

He angled his mouth over hers, touching his lips to her lips. When they came together, his taste reminded him of something sweet and tangy—like wine. His lips were gentle and soft as they coaxed her into a deeper kiss. His tongue probed hers, instigated the most sensual dance between them. His kiss sang through her veins, igniting passion within her. The way he kissed her with slow, drugging never ending caresses against her lips took her to a place of divine ecstasy—a place that she didn't want to leave. Her fingers had somehow gotten wrapped up in his shirt. She was grasping at his shirt, pulling him possessively to her. Time must have stopped for this moment. Her thoughts spun and the only thing that mattered was being wrapped in Deacon's warmth.

They parted from the kiss, short of breath and panting.

She wanted more. She slipped her fingers between his neck and recaptured his lips. He obliged her silent request, returning her kiss as if she were the only thing that mattered. When they separated, he left her mouth burning with fire and pressed his forehead to her forehead.

"If I don't stop now, I'll end up doing roguish things to you," he said.

She caught his gaze while still caressing the nape of his neck and asked, "Well then, I just might encourage you to keep going."

He kissed her once more on the lips, then her left cheek, her right temple…and then the tip of her nose.

"I'm not going anywhere without you. I promise," he told her.

Monica's belly rumbled loudly reminding her that she was running off coffee and snacks. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment and she laughed.

"I guess I really need to eat lunch now."

He chuckled. "No kidding. I won't have any mate of mine going hungry. Let's get you fed."

She took his hand and then stopped short of the door when she recalled what he said. "Mate?"

He paused and then said, "Yes, mate. We're almost certain."

Before she could grill him again like she'd been doing for the past hour, he led her down the stairs to the first level and then outside where her Corvette was waiting.

Deacon opened the driver's side door for her and she slipped inside. He jumped in on the passenger's side, stretching his long legs as far as they would go in her little sports car.

"So where to?" she asked, starting the engine.

"I know this place down at the market that serves some really great tacos. And there's a sandwich shop right across the street if you don't want anything to heavy."

"I could probably eat a dozen tacos right now," she commented.

"Cool. We have a few more hours until that storm rolls through. And before you get any ideas, we'll take cover long before that happens."

Monica stole another quick glance at him before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. Being with him felt so right and the void she'd felt for as long as she could remember had vanished.