Hell, I’d scared her so much I hope she didn’t wreck in her haste to get away from me. She’d ran like a scared rabbit. Serves her right. What was she doing going through my things?

What’s to go through? The picture was sitting right out there on the nightstand. It’s not like she went digging through drawers and shit.

I don’t give a fuck where she found it.

You’re a dick.

Fuck off!

The fuck!

I half expected a call from my brother but when none came I got even more suspicious. It’s not like him to let shit go this easy. Or had she not gone running to him to complain like last time?

I refuse to feel bad about my behavior. Everyone’s entitled to their privacy aren’t they? By dinnertime I was getting antsy. Wyatt hadn’t called to bitch and there was no word from her.

I was tempted to pick up the phone and call him, see if he’d heard from her. But my stubborn pride wouldn’t let me. This was for the best. I was already imagining all manner of things that weren’t good for either of us.

Well, they may be good for me seeing as I haven’t fucked anyone in a while, but there was nothing in it for her beyond the orgasms she was sure to get at the end of my dick. Better leave that shit alone.

When she didn’t show up the same time the next day I was ready to pull my hair out by the roots. I asked myself why the fuck I should care while enjoying my second cup of coffee and ignoring the accusing looks from the mutt.

I hadn’t slept very well the night before and wasn’t too happy about that shit either. If it wasn’t her face haunting me even in my waking moments, that damn annoying feeling was back and more persistent than ever.

As a practical man who believes in logic, nothing about this shit makes sense. Why should a girl I’d just met only briefly take up this much space in my damn head? And why do I feel like the worse kind of monster for treating her the way I have when I’ve treated others much harsher and didn’t give a good damn?

I was tempted to call Wyatt but in the end I didn’t have to, he called. “Hey big brother? How are things working out with Cassie?”

Did he really not know or was he fucking with me? I’m still not sure if those two are in cahoots, but this would explain him not riding my ass the day before.

“I wouldn’t know she hasn’t shown up.”

“What did you do?”

“The fuck! Why does it have to be me?”

“Because that sweet girl wouldn’t hurt a fly. You didn’t make her cry again did you?”

“When did I ever make her cry?”

“Like you don’t know. She was just trying to repay your kindness the only way she knows how. I’m very disappointed in you.” He hung up the phone leaving me feeling like the world’s biggest son of a bitch.

Since we were kids I’ve always been his hero, he didn’t have to say it for me to know. This is the first time he’s ever said those words to me. For the first time since my wife’s death I felt regret over the way I’d treated someone else. But no one touches that picture or even brings it up in conversation. Everyone who knows me knows that that shit’s off limits.

But she doesn’t know you does she jackass? And maybe I don’t want her to. Maybe I don’t want to get tangled up with her and whatever the hell this is. By midafternoon I knew I was fooling myself.

I wasn’t sure which was worst. The fact the I felt guilty about the way things had ended, or the fact that I wanted her here. The last scared me more than anything had in a long time.

I still don’t know what that strange feeling is. I know it can’t be love. I’ve been in love before and it was nothing like this. My love for Elena had been easy. We were so alike her and I. Her strength was one of the things that drew me to her.

Whereas Cassie seemed soft and vulnerable. Like she needed someone to take care of and look out for her. Had I spoken to Elena the way I had her, she would’ve ripped me up one side and down the next.

But not this girl that keeps invading my sleep. No, she turns and runs and gets herself into messes that she can’t get out of without my help. She’s not my type even before I got married. I like strong women who can hold their own.

As a marine who was gone a lot because of my team, I needed that kind of woman to keep the home fires burning. Someone I was sure wouldn’t crack at the first sign of trouble. I got the feeling I’d be standing in front of this one for a lifetime if I ever went there with her.

My brother wasn’t calling back and there was no sign of her. I was tempted to do something stupid and barely restrained myself by reminding myself that this is what’s best for her.

All day while she was in my house and I was hiding out, especially after lunch, I kept imagining having her. I saw myself doing some pretty grown up things to her little ass. All sure to make her walk crooked for a month.

I can’t remember the last time I had such vivid visions in my head of a sexual nature. And these were some of the nastiest yet. Not even as a horny teen did I imagine fucking anyone as hard as often and in as many positions as I imagined doing with her.

Maybe that’s why I’d reacted so harshly after finding her holding Elena’s picture. Because my dick had stayed hard for her all day and she was tying me up in knots. All shit I did not want or need.

I’m not even gonna touch on the guilt I feel each time I want her. Realistically I know it makes no sense. As far as most of my acquaintances are concerned I should’ve moved on a long time ago.

Some have even gone so far as to suggest that that’s what my wife would’ve wanted. How the fuck do they know? Did they ask her?

No one seems to understand that it should’ve been me. That that’s a guilt it would take three lifetimes to overcome. Even though I know the ones responsible were the ones who’d killed her, in my heart I still feel that she’d still be alive had she not been married to me.

So how can I move on so easily after just a few short years when there was no chance of her ever coming back? Is it any wonder that I resent this girl as much as I lust for her? Because she’s making me feel when I don’t want to and there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it.

I was tempted to go after her just to prove to myself that it wasn’t as serious as I was letting on. That I could go back to the way things were before that fateful night. Before she stayed with me even in sleep.

But I was afraid that if I reopened that door there was no way she wasn’t going to end up on the end of my cock. I’d barely restrained myself yesterday why tempt myself again?

By the time I rolled into bed I’d pretty much convinced myself that it was for the best. That I’d done us both a favor by running her off. But my dick and my dreams wouldn’t let that shit go.

I really wasn’t looking forward to seeing the sheriff. I’d made up my mind to be done with his ornery brother and move on. It was obvious that he was still in love with the woman in the photograph whoever she is, and I have no place in his life.

It was all just a stupid little girl crush that’s all it was. Anyway I looked at it, he didn’t owe me anything, if anything I was the one who owed him. And if all he wanted was to be left alone, then maybe I should give him what he wants.

It was easier said than done though. The hurt he’d caused by his reaction had been deep and still lingered. It as well out of proportion for the situation as it was between us, but it was real nonetheless.

I felt betrayed, which is stupid. When did he ever betray me? But in my mind I was convinced that he knew I was attracted to him, if that’s what you can call this strange feeling that seems to constantly draw me to him.

And the fact that he had to know and yet treated me so shabbily said more than words ever could that he wasn’t interested. I was finally able to accept that he wasn’t feeling the same thing I was. That thing that I’d had no name for until I was driving away from him in tears.

The day before when he’d behaved so badly hadn’t hurt as much. Because this time he was hurting me for someone else and that pain cut like a sharp edged sword to the heart.

So, I’d told myself sometime during the night that I should cut my losses and go back to my life before him. Of course my mind had other ideas and each time I told myself that it was pointless, that feeling would assail me again and I’d be back where I started.

I had the added worry of trying to figure out just what this feeling was and if I could trust it. It wasn’t any of the things I’d told myself it was in the beginning. Nothing as flowery as a little crush.

From the way I ached at the thought of him being in love with someone else, I knew it was much more serious than that. Too bad it was too late, that nothing could ever come of it because he didn’t feel the same.

Not for me anyway. But he obviously felt something for the woman in the picture. That much was made blatantly obvious. But just as I’d made peace with my decision as hard as it was, the phone rang and it was his brother calling.