It’s a picture-perfect vision.
One I don’t belong in.
This isn’t my reality. I screwed up and landed here by accident—quite literally.
I press my thumb to the inside of my elbow.
Use this as a springboard, be grateful, and get out of here before they see you for what you are.
My nail bites into my skin, and I wince at the pain.
“Hey.” Boone’s voice makes me turn.
He’s leaned against the doorframe, one long leg crossed over the other. He knows whatever I was thinking isn’t nice. I can tell by the way he holds his face.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I don’t tell him because I know what he’ll say. We’ve been through this.
Instead, I give him the best smile I can manage.
“Your family is great,” I say.
“They are.”
I wait for him to expound on that, but he doesn’t.
“How do they just accept people so easily?” I ask. “You would think they’ve known me and Rosie forever.”
He pushes off the doorway. Standing in front of me, he peers down.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.
“By design.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, to be honest. I don’t know what to think. It’s like all of this stuff happened in my life at one moment.” I take a deep breath. “I think about it and how you, a man I didn’t know, were there to help me pick up the pieces. It’s wild, don’t you think?”
“Not really.”
I make a face. “How can this work out so perfectly?”
How can you be so perfect?
My stomach flip-flops at the predicament I’m in. Having Boone and the whole Mason clan to lean on is a prayer I didn’t even have the guts to pray. Yet they aren’t my family. They don’t owe me a thing. Their kindness and willingness to include Rosie and me in their lives can be withdrawn as readily as it was given.
As glorious as this afternoon has been, I know that losing this would hurt more than not having it.
For Rosie.
And for me.
It’s a double-edged sword.
“My grandma Annabelle used to say that nothing happens by accident. Holt just reminded me of that,” he says, his voice gruffer than usual. “That’s how it can work out so perfectly, as you say.”
He’s so wide that I can’t see around him. He’s so tall I can’t see over him. He’s so all-consuming that I can’t focus on anything but him.
I should say something to use as a defense. It would be smart to throw up a few quick roadblocks because I can guess where he’s going with this. But the intensity in his eyes, mixed with the sincerity that routinely takes my breath away, has me rendered speechless.
“If nothing happens by accident,” he says, “that means everything that happens is purposeful.”
My blood begins to pound through my veins.
He takes a step closer to me.
“And that means you dropped into my life for a reason,” he says.
“I dropped into your life because you don’t lock your windows,” I say, hoping he’ll get distracted from where this is going.
He doesn’t. His eyes just burn hotter.
“I’m going to be honest—I don’t know what to think either. I like having you here,” he says quietly. “I liked having you here before Rosie, but I like her too. I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I do.”
It doesn’t make sense knowing the risks, but I like being here too. It feels safe. It’s easy. He’s wonderful. But that doesn’t mean it’s anything I should put stock in—especially when everything is so new.
“It’s only been a couple of days, Boone. Let’s give it time.”
He nods. “Yes, let’s.”
I don’t know what that means. I’m afraid to think about it. He’s talking out of his ass, if he means what I think he means.
What on earth would he do with Rosie and me?
Maybe we can be friends. Maybe we can even be fuck buddies at some point once I figure out this new role in my life, but that’s not now.
It can’t be.
That would be insane.
He takes a step closer, cutting the distance between us in half. I can feel his chest moving as he breathes. The energy wafting off him in continuous waves makes me dizzy.
He reaches up and touches my chin. His fingers zap my skin, sending sparks all the way to my toes.
“You better be careful,” I whisper. “There is a house full of people out there.”
A slow, sly smile splits his cheeks.
My throat burns as I nearly pant at the feel of his hand against my face.
“Should I close the door?” he asks.
“You still haven’t learned to lock things?”
He chuckles, his chest rumbling next to mine.
I’m playing a dangerous game here, but I can’t help myself. I like this. I like him.
I’ve never had a man touch me this gently or be so sweet to me. I’ve never felt so seen, so heard, so worthy of communication. I’ve never had someone believe in me so effortlessly. Genuinely. It’s surreal.