“Thank you.”

“Have you thought any more about opening a bakery here in town? At least five people have asked me if you’re considering it—and hoping you will, of course.”

Blair smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“The couple who owns the bakery on Main Street is getting on in years. I bet they’d sell cheap!”

“That’s enough, Mom,” I said firmly. “She’s already got a job lined up somewhere else.”

My mother’s face turned white. “What?”

“Cheyenne put her in touch with someone up in Traverse City who offered to hire her starting right after Labor Day.”

“Cheyenne Dempsey!” my mother bellowed, whirling on my sister. “How could you?”

While Cheyenne defended herself, I took Blair’s arm and started for the front door. “Let’s go.”

When we got home, Blair wanted to go in the lobby to see if the paint was dry. She turned around slowly, looking at each wall. “I’m picturing where those big photo prints could go,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I think the one of your dad and grandfather from 1955 should go there. And the one of the three of you over there. Then maybe three smaller ones on this wall—the one of your dad teaching you and your sister how to change a tire here, the one of you and him working on the old truck here, and the one of your entire family at the 50th anniversary ribbon-cutting there. What do you think?”

“I think this place is going to look better than it has in years, thanks to you.”

She smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I just think the reminders that this is a family-owned-and-run business is really important.”

“I agree.”

She turned to face the wall again. “Someday, the walls of my bakery will have my family photos.”

“You teaching your daughters how to bake bread?”

She arched a brow at me over her shoulder. “And my sons.”

I smiled. “Of course.”

“I want my sons to know how to cook and my daughters to know how to jumpstart a dead car battery,” she said, turning to face me. “Which reminds me, do you think you could teach me how to do that before I go?”

My chest grew tight. I didn’t want to think about her leaving. “Of course.”

“Thanks. I know you’re really busy, but I’d like to learn.”

“I’m not too busy for you. Should we go up to bed?” I asked, switching off the lights.

“Yes.” She headed for the door. “You did a lot of work today. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I am, a little,” I said, following her out and locking the door behind us. “But that’s not the only reason I want to go to bed.”

“No?”

“No.” I unlocked my apartment door. “It’s not even the most important one.”

“What’s the most important one?” she asked as we went up the stairs.

That I can’t stop wanting more of you. That I love having you in my bed at night. That I’ll miss you when you’re gone. That I’ll worry about you alone at that motel constantly. That we only have three more nights together. That in less than a week, you’ve managed to get under my skin, and I don’t know what to do about it—I just know that it feels good to be with you.

But I couldn’t admit any of those things to her, so I fell back on sex, which let me show her what I couldn’t say.

“This,” I said as we reached the top of the steps, spinning her around to take her in my arms and crush my mouth against hers in the dark.

As usual with us, it took no time at all for the fire to ignite. I was even more anxious than usual to get inside her, so anxious I couldn’t make it to the bedroom. After yanking off all her clothes, I set her on my dining table and shoved down my jeans just enough to free my bulging cock.

Her legs were wrapped around me and I was about to push inside her when she whispered frantically, “Griffin—wait. It’s not safe right now.”

“Fuck.” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten protection. That was a rule we absolutely could not break. Hurrying back to my bedroom, I grabbed a condom from my drawer and tore it open with my teeth on my way back to the table. She waited for me at the edge of the table, leaning back on her hands and breathing hard, her legs spread.

“You have no idea how good you look right now,” I told her, rolling on the condom, my cock aching to be inside her again. “This is the picture I want fucking framed on the wall.”

She laughed as I slid inside her. “This is for your eyes only.”

“Fuck yes, it is.” The thought of anyone else getting to see her this way made me insane with rage. Something feral and possessive took over me, and I fucked her more roughly than I ever had before, almost like I wanted to hurt her. Punish her for showing some future asshole this side of her.

Her cries took on a different tone—I knew I was pushing her limits—and her nails raked up and down my arms like claws. Maybe she’d even drawn blood.

I didn’t care.

Unless she asked for mercy, I was going to fuck her the way I needed to, the way my body begged me to. There was something I needed her to understand, and this was the only way to do it.

But she didn’t ask for mercy—even though she cried out in pain and gripped my arms like she was drowning and sank her teeth into my shoulder as I poured myself into her.

When it was over, I braced my arms above her shoulders and looked down at her. “Sorry if I was too rough. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Was it the crop top?”

I laughed. “No, although I do like it.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know. Just forgot my manners, I guess.”

There was no way I could tell her the truth, which hit me hard as we curled up in my bed and she fell asleep in my arms.

It was panic. Pure and simple.

It was panic that I was about to lose something that mattered to me, and that it would be my own fault. It was panic that a deadline was approaching and a decision had to be made, but I wasn’t ready to make it. It was panic that I was on the verge of making a huge mistake, but I didn’t know what it was . . . letting her go? Or asking her to stay?

I felt like I was losing my mind.

What I’d told Cole was true—I didn’t want my life to change. I didn’t want to change. I’d put up these walls for a damn good reason, and I wasn’t about to tear them down. Not even for her.

But I wasn’t ready for this to be over yet either. I needed more time—time for whatever it was I felt for her to run its course. Time for the physical spark to burn out. Time for me to remember I didn’t want or need her in my life.

So when the parts for her car arrived early—the very next morning, in fact—I didn’t put them in her car.

I hid them.

And I didn’t say a thing about it to anyone.

Fifteen

Blair

I was dreading Wednesday, but I tried not to show it.

To be honest, I’d hoped Griffin would protest when I brought up calling the motel. Not that I blamed him for wanting his space back. I’d been here a week already. No matter how amazing the sex was, you couldn’t just move in with someone so fast. I wasn’t insane.