“Sorry about what?” I keep my hands clasped in my lap so I don’t give in to the urge to bite my nails or fidget.

He makes a general hand motion toward the store.

“Oh, you mean your friend? She was flirty.” I hate that it comes out sounding bitter, catty, and insecure.

“Charity flirts with everyone who has a dick. Doesn’t matter if they’re twenty or eighty.” RJ smooths his thumb down the back of my neck, and I jerk away.

“You don’t need to placate me, RJ. It’s obvious there’s something between you. I know I’m not the first woman to share your bed.” And I’m well aware that I won’t be the last either.

“Hey, can you look at me for a second, please?”

I reluctantly shift my gaze to meet his.

“Charity works at one of the bars here. She’s stuck and looking for a way out, or an escape, and I’ve made it clear I’m not going to be that guy. When I come here—it’s always been to spend time with my dad and my brother, not hook up with random women.”

“She’s beautiful, though.”

He shrugs. “She’s not my type.”

“And I am?”

“Yes. You’re exactly my type. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny, adventurous, and just so fucking sweet. You don’t have anything to be jealous of, Lainey.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten short with you.”

“I’m going to say something, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, okay?”

“Okay?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

“I like that you’re jealous.”

“You do? Why?” I’ve never considered jealousy a positive emotion. It indicates a level of insecurity and vulnerability.

“It means we’re on the same page, because if the tables were turned and it was you coming out of that store and me sitting here watching some guy flirt with you, I probably would’ve made a huge ass out of myself.”

“How do you mean?”

“There’s no way I could’ve played it cool. I would’ve been out of the truck making sure he knew you were mine and that he should back the fuck off.” RJ cringes. “I probably should’ve stopped while I was ahead—now I sound like a possessive douche. What I mean is, I want to be the only one you get jealous over, that’s all. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it makes sense.”

With that, we head back to the cabin and make good use of that residual jealousy—and the condoms.

CHAPTER 11

ALL GOOD THINGS

Lainey

“Lainey, baby, wake up.”

I groan and snuggle into the pillow. “Just let me sleep for five more minutes, RJ, then you can sex me.”

He presses his lips to my cheek, and when he speaks again, his tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Baby, please. I need you to wake up. I have to go.”

I blink a couple of times and roll over. RJ is sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. His expression is pained. “What’s going on?”

“It’s my brother. Well, it’s actually Joy. She went into labor. She’s more than a month early, and there are complications. I know we’re supposed to fly out together, but he needs me right now.”

I’m still half-asleep, so it takes me a few seconds to absorb what he’s said. “Is the baby going to be okay? Is Joy?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty touch and go. I need to get out there so he has some support. So they all do, just in case.”

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to process it all. “Right. He definitely needs you. When will you leave?”

“I have a flight in less than two hours. I have to go now.” He keeps skimming my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Now?” I push up on my arms, the weight of his words finally settling.

“I’m sorry, Lainey. I wanted to fly back to Seattle with you.” His expression is pained. “I really don’t want to go, but I have to.”

“No, no, I get it. Your family needs you—you have to be with them.” If it were one of my brothers or sisters, I would do exactly the same thing.

“I’ll call, okay? When I get there, I’ll call and let you know I landed and how everything is going—so you don’t worry.”

“Okay. Yes. Please.”

“I’m sorry I have to leave.” He cups my face in his hands and kisses me, evidently not caring about my sleep breath.

My stomach hollows out when I realize this is goodbye. I thought we had another day—time to talk, to figure things out. I’m not going to see him again. Not anytime soon. Part of me wants to offer to come with him, but it’s just prolonging the inevitable.

A desperate, forlorn sound bubbles up as he pulls back, eyes roaming over my face. “I need you one last time.”

“Please. Yes.” I can already feel the ache in my chest, and he’s still here with me. I’m terrified of what it will be like when he’s really gone. I shove down the anxiety and focus on the moment.

He pulls my sleep shirt over my head, so it’s just a matter of unclasping his belt and unbuttoning his fly. “I’m sorry I can’t take care of you the way I want to.” His mouth covers mine again, and his kiss is full of the same desperation I feel.

I climb into his lap while he’s still fully dressed and free him from his boxer briefs.

There’s no finessing our way through this—it’s sheer desperate need driving us as I sink down and cry out from the invasion. Everything is magnified, including the sensation of having him inside me, knowing it’s the last time.

I keep our mouths fused, holding him tightly as he moves me over him, slow at first, gentle—but it doesn’t last; we grip and cling, teeth clashing, tongues warring, bodies battling as we crash into each other, taking what we both need because we’re out of time.

RJ tears his mouth from mine. “I need you to come.”

“I’m close,” I assure him.

He lifts and lowers me, faster, harder, pushing my body to the limit. The orgasm steals my breath, and I cry out, wishing the sensation were something I could hold on to.

“Lainey.” The single word is as much a demand as it is a plea. I open my eyes and focus on his face, on the torment in his eyes, on the regrets I can feel creating a hole in my heart in the form of a love I’ll never fully experience apart from these brief weeks.

He comes, eyes on mine, body shaking with his release. He kisses me, hard at first and then softer. Eventually he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly, lips pressed against my throat. He murmurs something against my skin that I don’t catch.

Fragile moments pass, and his imminent departure looms. His palms smooth up my back, tangling briefly in my hair before he finally pulls back and exhales an unsteady breath. His eyes are glassy and sad. “I have to go.”

“I know.”

“I wanted more time with you.”

“Me too. I’ll walk you out?”

“That would be good. Let me get you a shirt.”

I move off his lap, feeling the absence of him everywhere as we lose our physical connection. He tucks himself back into his pants and crosses to the closet, grabbing one of his shirts that he leaves at the cabin. He helps me into it, fastening a couple of buttons with shaking hands.