608 Alpha Avenue (Cherry Falls)

“If I open that door, Haley, it’s not going to be good.”

“Why?” I say through the dryness of my throat.

He grins sadly. “You’re this white luxury car interior, and I’m just an oil-stained mechanic.”

The vulnerability riddled in his features is a shot to my heart. He fights it and recovers quickly from the moment of exposure.

“You’re an intelligent, hard-working, great-looking oil-stained mechanic,” I say. “So, I’m not sure what, exactly, you’re getting at. I mean, you can be a dick, but you have good moments. There’s real potential there.”

He shakes his head and fights a laugh. “I’m not … I’m not interested in the things you’re interested in. I don’t do relationships.”

“Why?” I ask, figuring there’s a bullshit answer I can pick apart. Besides, having his arm wrapped around me really, really works right now.

“You really want to know?”

“Yup.”

He swallows. “Okay. There’s a litany of reasons, but to keep it simple: Sex is best the first time. It’s new, and the anticipation can never be better than the moment just before you fuck. Second,” he says, ignoring whatever my face is doing in reaction to his admission, “I don’t want to take care of someone. I don’t want her to be my problem. I have enough of them on my own, let alone adding someone else’s feelings and family bullshit and electrical bills into the mix.”

I nod, my brain doing its best to sort through this mess.

“Resources allocation,” he continues, as if a dam has been burst and every excuse is forced to topple over the flood banks. “My time, money, energy—it’s all mine. I barely have enough of it to get myself through a day. I like my personal space. I like to get to be me every day and not worry if I say the wrong thing or give off the wrong impression because it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Wow.” I blow out a breath. “That’s … a lot. It’s fair, I guess, if you want to be that selfish.”

“It’s not selfish, though. That’s the thing. It would be selfish if I was in a relationship and just taking off to hike when I felt like it, or worked overtime because a project fascinated me, or spent a grand on an old beater that’s completely not worth the money but I like it.” He lifts his shoulders and then lets them fall. “If it’s just me, it’s just a decision. If I’m in a relationship, it’s a potential problem.”

I can’t argue with his logic. Even though I want to—even though I want to hail the benefits of falling in love and having that person there for the rest of your life, I don’t. Mostly because I bet he already knows that. He’s thought about it. Clearly.

And he’s made his choice.

I study his rugged features—the sharpness of his cheekbones, the crooked bend to his nose. The scar that cuts through his left eyebrow. All of these things, these imperfections, somehow make him even more perfect. More attractive. More real.

I bite my lip as my thoughts slow down to a discernible flow.

Grayson Blake may not be relationship material. But he’s real. There’s no bullshit here. Unlike any other man I’ve ever met, he laid out his objectives on the table before anything happened.

He’s not hiding anything. He’s not tricking me or deceiving me.

It certainly puts a different spin on things.

He shifts his weight, and his finger swipes just under the hem of my shirt. Instinctively, I move against it, craving more—more contact. More sparks coursing through my veins.

More him.

“You’re honest,” I say, my voice breathy. “I have to say that for you.”

He nods warily.

“And you’re not wrong, you know,” I admit. “I do want a relationship, but you’re not wrong for not wanting one. We’re just … different.”

“That’s why I avoid you. You’re like a magnet for me. There’s something irresistible about you that I fight because, if I don’t and I give in …” He growls and looks at the ground. “I don’t want to mess with your head.”

I don’t know if it’s his honesty that does it or the fact that I’ve wanted Grayson since I ran into him at Cherry Tree Coffee, but I want him. Even if it’s only once.

He wants me—physically—and even though I want more for my future, why shouldn’t I have the potential ride of my life?

Take this opportunity, Haley. Then you’ll finally … know.

“You don’t want to mess with my head,” I say, pausing to gather my courage, “but what about messing with my body?”

His head snaps to mine. His eyes are wide, his lips parted.

Every inch of my body tingles as I await his response.

“If you’re fucking with me,” he warns.

“Not yet. But if you’d stop talking so damn much, maybe I could be.”

His mouth twists into a slow, sexy grin. “You talk a big game.”