Page 66 of The Only Heart that Matters

It’s not getting late. I’m just fumbling over my words because I wasn’t expecting him to bail already, even if it’s what I need him to do to protect myself. Still, disappointment takes a firm grip on my heart.

“Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. How’s your car holding up? Everything okay since you got it back? Need me to look at it?”

He steps closer, and my heart rate accelerates, but he only grabs his coat from the chair next to me. Nothing more.

“Oh, uh, my car. Yep, it’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

“And you’ve got snow tires, right?”

“Yes, I live in Central Oregon and I’m thirty-three years old. So, I’m all good. You don’t have to worry about me, Angus.”

If he wasn’t reaching for the door, I would say he was stalling, but no. He’s just Gus, being Gus.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you Saturday night then.” He seems uncomfortable. As if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Text me and let me know what time to pick you up.”

“Um, okay. Sure.”

“Have a good night, Goof.”

“You too,” I say to the door because he’s already gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Angus

Yes, it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside, but I’m pretty sure my body is shaking for a whole different reason. I’m about to spend the evening pretending to be Mia’s husband and I’m amped to know at the very least I’ll get to touch her all night long.

After dinner the other night, I was a man on fire, every nerve ending blazing to touch her. I had to get out of the house, or I would have crossed the invisible line keeping the two of us from repeating the best night of my damn life.

I know it was just dinner, but it had felt more like a fairytale.

I’m still adjusting to being alone with her.

It’s new.

It’s everything.

Throw Sawyer into the mix and it’s downright perfect.

When she served my birthday dinner, including my favorite Mexican lager, it felt like Christmas all over again. She knows me as well as I know her, which only makes staying away harder andharder. Dinner had me shoving the reasons I couldn’t be with her into a nice little box.

When I built the ranch house, I didn’t really give any thought to who would sleep in the four bedrooms. But seeing Mia and Sawyer move around the house so comfortably has me giving it a lot of thought. I like them moving within the walls I built with my bare hands, filling the house with laughter, and for the first time, joy. They’re fulfilling a dream I hadn’t realized I had.

One I didn’t want to wake up from.

What Ididwant was crystal clear as I laid in bed later that night. The years of nameless, faceless women who had been in and out of my loft, never to the ranch, ran through my head. And I felt nothing. Because none of them were worthy of the house I unknowingly built for Mia and Sawyer.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a fairytale, and I’m no Prince Charming, deserving of a happily ever after. Regardless, come hell or high water, I’ll be damned if any harm comes to them on my watch. I will always be there for them.

Exiting the highway, onto the road that takes me to the property I grew up on, my stomach flips and my excitement grows. I know it’s stupid to be this excited. All I’m doing is orchestrating some perverse self-inflicted torture. But she needs me. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The truth of the matter is I want more time alone with her.

Scratch that, Ineedto be alone with her.

She has quickly become an addiction.

All I think about.

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