Noah had briefly considered not going to Heather's party. His professional services wouldn't be required. Everyone was bringing their own beer, and Heather made sure there was an immense supply of red Solo cups. He had to be on the road pretty early tomorrow anyway, and he wouldn't mind the extra rest.

But Heather had invited him personally—twice. After he'd explained that he was leaving town early, she'd doubled down. He had to go, she insisted, so he could offer his coworkers a proper goodbye.

That was part of the reason why he hesitated to go. The last thing he wanted was to cause more awkwardness with the tight-knit group he'd joined. Everyone knew how strained things were between him and Gigi, and it didn't take a master intellect to figure out why. The bar's inner workings functioned best when everyone was getting along. Things would return to normal once he was gone, and skipping the party altogether would just make things normal that much faster.

He resolved to go just long enough to be polite, wish Heather a happy birthday, and say goodbye. To see Gigi one last time. She'd been distancing herself from him these last few days. In truth, she'd been saying goodbye to him since they'd argued.

Still, he needed to see her, to imprint her on his memory. Then he could be on his way.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been at a bona fide party, something that wasn't a handful of guys standing around drinking. Tonight, he'd gone so far as to change his clothes, tossing his T-shirt and practically indestructible cargo pants aside for a white button-down and dark blue jeans. While he'd stood in the mirror and fidgeted with his shirttail, he'd hardly recognized the man looking back at him.

Not a great sign. Maybe getting out was a good idea after all.

Noah had made up his mind to show up well after the action had started, and by the time he'd changed and made a stop for beer, the party was in full swing. The big, barrel-shaped grill was stationed in the back parking lot, along with a line of partygoers and a bunch of motorcycles, so he parallel parked on Low Tide Drive and walked back to the bar.

After weeks of parking behind the bar and coming in through the back screen door, Noah still found the view from the front of the building foreign. He pulled open the door to find an impressive crowd, laughing and talking over Led Zeppelin music. He recognized a few of the regulars at the bar and some others in their favorite booth. A few of his coworkers congregated near the large front windows. Everyone else was new to him.

His skin tingled with unease. Being surrounded by strangers set him on edge, and he needed to breathe through the pressure squeezing his chest. These might be unfamiliar people, but he was in a familiar place. He was with his people and the people of his people.

"Noah!"

The sound of his name squealed from across the room startled him. He turned to find Heather dragging a tall, bearded man toward him. He'd seen her on his initial sweep of the room, but she'd been unrecognizable in her green mini dress, with her hair down.

"I didn't think you were gonna come," she cried. She tried to punch his arm, but her fist was too loose to have much effect.

"Didn't want to come empty handed," he explained, lifting the twelve-pack of beer.

Heather ignored the beer and shouted to her companion. "This is, like, the Superman of barbacks," she said. "All you have to do is, like, think about something, and he's right there with it."

Heather's companion extended his hand. "I'm Bruce, Heather's husband." He used one hand to shield his mouth from Heather's view. "She's lit."

Noah and Bruce shared a laugh.

"What is funny?" Heather's words ran together. "I'm not drunk." She pointed at the beer. "And so what? You're the one who gave me beer for my birthday."

"It's not just for—"

"You know what I really want for my birthday, Noah?" she went on.

He and Bruce exchanged a nervous glance. "What?" Noah asked.

"I want…" She tottered toward him on her heels and crashed into his shoulder, and his face grew warm. Behind her, Bruce shook his head indulgently. "I want you to stay here. You don't want to go to Florida, Noah. Florida's full of geezers. You should stay here and be the Superman of barbacks."

Bruce tugged his wife off Noah's shoulder. "Okay. Let's go back over here." He began to walk Heather to a table of bikers. "Nice to meet you," he called over his shoulder.

Noah waved and looked around for somewhere to put the beer.

"Gigi thinks so, too!" Heather's drunken cry straightened his spine. "You have to talk to her!" She leaned over to Bruce as if to share a secret before yelling, "He's the one who made her sleepy that time."

"All right," Bruce answered gently. "Only some people have to know that."

Noah watched the two of them totter over to the bikers. What did that mean? He shook his head. At this point in the evening, Heather probably didn't know herself.

He turned toward the back hallway just as Gigi appeared there. A black dress wrapped around her lush curves, and bright red lipstick glistened on her gorgeous mouth. She'd let her hair down, too. Waves of dark curls cascaded onto her shoulders.

He'd wanted to remember her in just one way. A single, vivid memory would be easier to preserve than a wide spread of images and sensations. The thought of her on his lap on the Fourth of July warred with the image of her in her robe, deep brown skin glowing in the candlelight as she prepared to give him a massage. But the sight of her in this dress, glancing away from him at the floor and then up at his eyes—this would sear itself onto his mind forever. A perfect temptation. So perfect, he might never be worthy of her.

They stared at each other, as if they'd been caught in some wrongful act. She'd basically written him off. She hadn't spent more than a couple of minutes in any room with him, even last night, during their last shift together.

Well, hell. He needed this beer to go somewhere.

She sidestepped out of the hallway as he approached.

"Is there ice in the back?" he asked.

A soft, unfamiliar fragrance emanated from her hair as she nodded. "Yeah, there should still be ice in the big tubs."

Quiet descended between them. Noah hated this, but he couldn't say he deserved any better.

"Okay, thanks." He slipped past her into the hallway. Beyond the screen door, he found the two metal tubs half full of ice and busied himself dropping beer cans into it. He considered taking one for himself. Maybe then he'd be able to say goodbye to her forever.

* * *

Gigi summoned all the willpower she had to resist the urge to turn all the way around and watch Noah go down the hall to the parking lot. As much as his body was made for worn T-shirts and those beat-down cargo pants, his simple white shirt and jeans made him look even hotter. Something about the long sleeves showed off the size of his shoulders. The collar made her want to reach in and stroke the hollow of his throat. And those dark jeans did amazing things for that firm, perfect ass of his. All of it came together to form a beautiful memory, something she'd be content to cling to once he was gone.

The thought clutched her heart and gave it a brutal squeeze. This was it. He'd be gone tomorrow. This was all she had.

Somehow, she'd have to find a way to do as Heather said. She'd avoided it yesterday, spending the entire shift away from Noah in a way that shamed her now. Tonight, she'd thought she could find the courage to talk to him, but one look at him had almost sent her running.

This is ridiculous. This is your place, and he is still your employee. You just need to have one last conversation with him.

It shouldn't be hard, she knew. They'd shared intimate conversations before. What was so different about this?

The Allman Brothers gave way to Eric Clapton. The first few chords of "Wonderful Tonight" cleared a space in the center of her bar, and couples drifted into it to dance. Heather pulled poor, sober Bruce to the dance floor. A painful lump rose in Gigi's throat, and the air grew too warm, too close.

This would never happen for her. She would just go on like this, pushing people away before they had a chance to become part of her life. That was her nature, and she'd have to get used to apologizing for it.

Damn.

She double-timed it down the hallway and up the stairs to the patio. Grill smoke drifted up to her, along with the laughter and chatter of partygoers in the gravel lot. Overhead, the newly repaired lights twinkled like stars, lending a soft glow to the rustic space. She snapped the light switch off. Easier to hide in the dark.

Tomorrow, he'd be gone. Tomorrow, she could start trying to forget him.

She pressed her hand to her chest, as if she could push this rising tide of sadness back down inside her. A breeze drifted up from the parking lot and the grill, and she moved toward it. He'd be down there now, certainly, with the beer safely on ice. The next stop would be the grill, where freshly pulled pork awaited guests.

The lights snapped on overhead.

"Boss?"

Gigi whipped around to face Noah. His hand was still on the light switch.

"After everything I went through to get these things working, I hate to see them turned off," he said.

She didn't trust herself to move. "You find the ice okay?"

"Yeah." He came closer, the wooden boards creaking beneath his weight. "Yeah, I found it."

"Good." She smoothed her dress over her hips. "I know Heather's glad you came."

For just an instant, his mouth twitched. "I think she's glad to see everybody right now."

Below them, the Clapton ballad was coming to an end.

"I kept your last check." Gigi took a long, deep breath. "I didn't think to give it to you last night, and I didn't want to mail it."

He nodded. "Thanks."

She should go downstairs for that check. But that would mean going past him to the stairs, and he seemed to occupy that space, even though he wasn't actually blocking her path. It also meant she'd be running away from this conversation again. She wasn't about to do that.

"I'm sorry it went this way." She caught herself twisting her fingers together.

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the far wall. "Me too."

"This isn't what I wanted." A wave of laughter rose from the parking lot, and she longed to be there instead, sharing the merriment of her friends.

"What did you want?" He started toward her, carefully. "How did you want this to go?"

Better than this. She swallowed against tears and turned toward the parking lot to prevent him from seeing them. The creaky boards announced his approach, and soon he was at her side, leaning on the railing at the edge of the patio.

"I don't know what I wanted, Monroe. I just know what I didn't want."

He nodded. "It's easy to lose track of it sometimes, what you actually want. I lost track of it myself."

"What did you want?"

"When I first got here? I just wanted somewhere to be." He glanced up at her. "Just like you said. I was passing through on the way to something else. But then something happened."

"What?"

"I found a place here. I was part of a team. There was always something to do, some way I could contribute." He laced his fingers together. "I belonged here. This became home."

Gigi turned to face him. "This isn't home to you. It isn't." She pushed the words at him, making them into projectiles. "If it were home, why would you volunteer to leave? Why would you leave early?"

He sighed. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't. I don't understand at all."

"You are part of this place and this family. Everything Inn Too Deep is—you made it. You brought me in. You made me safe. You made this my home. I wanted to belong to this place, and I wanted to belong to you. I will never look at you and not want that." He looked away from her into the parking lot and then at the neighborhood beyond it. "I need you, Gigi. More than you will ever let me have. And I can't stay here like that, with us avoiding each other and walking on eggshells. If my staying here is the cause of that, I'll leave. If you want me to leave, I will leave."

"That's not what I want, dammit."

Noah looked back at her. "So then tell me. What do you want?"

Gigi sighed. "As long as I can remember, I just wanted this." She looked out over the party, where people congregated with paper plates and red cups. "Someplace people went to meet up and have a good time. Part of the community, just like my dad." She turned to meet his ever-attentive gaze. "He told me not to let anything or anyone get in the way of the business. And for a long time, nothing did. My staff is awesome, and Heather's basically family. But I could run this place alone if I had to. I made sure of that."

His hand covered hers, the long fingers gradually engulfing it in warmth and strength. Noah felt right, like something in her was complete. She should let go of him, to avoid more attachment as he was leaving, but she hated to give this ration of pleasure up before she had to.

"When you came in," she said, "you took care of this place like it was yours. My life became part of your life. Everything changed so fast, and I wanted it, but at the same time, it felt like you were coming all the way in. It was too much."

"I came at you too hard." He squeezed her hand and smiled sheepishly. "I don't know how to do it another way."

Gigi laughed and gently rubbed at her eyes.

"I only know my way, too," she said. "I'm so used to doing it all myself."

He straightened up slowly, and she followed suit. A lightning flash of fear rippled over her. Would he leave now that they'd cleared the air? She thought she was prepared for that, but putting herself on the line made her want to start over again, to build something new with him.

He framed her face with his hands. "Gigi, I have to know. Do you actually want me to leave?"

In the bar, an Otis Redding song opened with the slow swing of horns, and when she turned to face Noah, she felt something inside her crumble, burying what she wanted beneath a wall of other realities.

"The payroll," she said. "In the off-season, it won't support a barback."

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about the payroll, boss."

"This place is deader than dead in the winter," she whispered.

Something in his expression softened. "I don't care, boss."

"You might be better off in Florida. With something steady."

"I might make more money," he said. "I might have work all year long. But you won't be there. I want to be where you are. I want that more than anything."

Far from them, a chorus of people sang along with Otis Redding.

"I want you here, too." She released a deep breath on a ragged sigh. "I don't want you to leave."

The smile that rose on his face warmed her skin. "You gonna ask me, boss?"

She gingerly rubbed her eyes. "Would you stay here? With me? Please?"

He reached for her, and she stepped into his embrace. Her impractical shoes brought her nose to nose with him. His big hand spread across the small of her back, pulling her close until their lips met. She went still in his arms. It was enough, for now, to share the space with him, to count each slow, careful breath. Finally, he lifted his mouth away from hers.

"So what does that make you now?" She looked up at him. "You know. What are we to each other?"

"I don't think anything's changed there, boss." He kissed her forehead and held her tight. "I'm whatever you tell me, for as long as you tell me."

Feeling very secure in his arms, she closed her eyes.

"That works for me, Monroe. That works for me."

The slow approach of loud footsteps drew her attention. Heather's voice filled the staircase. "Oh, my God, are you up here?"

Noah's laughter vibrated through Gigi. "Should we tell her?"

"That we're here, or that you're staying?"

"Either one. Both." He pressed his lips to her forehead again.

"You are kissing!" They turned to watch Heather emerge from the stairs. She jabbed a finger at them. "I saw it!" Peals of laughter erupted from her.

Gigi watched Noah chuckle to himself. The sight filled her with a joy she hoped would become familiar.

"I better help her back down," he said. "Don't want the birthday girl to break her neck on these stairs."

"Good idea," said Gigi.

His arm wound around her again, and his mouth covered hers for a kiss long enough to melt her bones and make everything seem right. They separated to the sound of Heather's squeals and found her jumping up and down in her heels.

"You'd better get her back downstairs," said Gigi.

"Yeah." His dark blue eyes pinned her, and heat fluttered over her chest. "But this isn't over."

"No. Of course not."

Slowly, the two separated, and Noah crossed the patio to Heather. "Hey, let's go find Bruce, okay?"

"I'm gonna tell him I saw you!" Heather put one hand against the wall as she wrapped her free arm around her favorite barback, and they disappeared toward the stairs. After a moment, Gigi heard her gasp. "Oh, my God! Does this mean you're staying? Does it?"

Gigi listened to the two of them gradually descend the stairs into the party. After another few seconds, Heather started to yell again.

"He's staying!" She let up a cry of delight. "He's staying!"

Cheers rocked the bar and the back parking lot, and when the noise dissolved into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," Gigi let her tears start to flow. No matter what the future brought, tonight's joy had been worth the price.

Then she realized she did have some idea what the future would bring.

This isn't over.