HEARTOFGOLD

AMountainMan’sValentine

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DarlingReader,

ThisismyValentine’streatforyou.

Rememberthatyouareloved,andthatyouarelovely,justthewayyouare.

xo,frankie

CHAPTERONE

HERE

ARE

ONLY

afewthingsthatcangetmeoffmymountain.

Weddings.Funerals.Thebirthofababy.
And,apparently,mybrother’sengagementparty.
Itakeadrinkofmywhiskey,scanningtheswankyrestaurantwherewe’regoingtobeservedasix-

coursemeal.Theplaceisstuffy.Overpriced.Andnotevenmildlyentertaining.There’snoonehereI’m
interestedinmakingsmalltalkwith,andcertainlynooneI’minterestedintakinghometonight.

“Doyouthinkyoucouldlookmoreirritated?”Taylorasks,standingbesideme,shouldertoshoulder.

We may be brothers, but we couldn’t be more opposite. Taylor is business suits and cufflinks and
courtrooms.Andhe’sboringasfuck.HisideaofagoodtimeiswalkingaroundPotteryBarn.

Me? I’m flannel shirts and fresh air. Blood, sweat, and tears have been my motto for the past three

years,eversinceIleftDenverandmademywaytotheYukonTerritory.Determinedtostakemyclaimin
theworld,onmyownterms.

WorkingforthemanmightworkforaguylikeTaylor,butI’mnothim.
Ofcourse,mysortof“lifeplan”pisseseveryoneoff—honestly,I’mguessingthat’sbecausetheyare

jealouslittlefuckers,sickofthedailygrindthey’veindebtedthemselvesto.

MybrotherhasneverbeenouttoseewhereIliveandwhatIdo.AndIlikeitthatway.Letthemtalk

aboutme;shit,nooneelse’swordsdefineme.

“I’m not irritated,” I tell him before finishing my whiskey. “I’m just bored. You said this was an

engagementparty?I’mstilllookingfortheparty,brother.”

My brother knows I’m giving him a hard time—I like parties just about as much as I like having a

boss.

“Well, then you just keep standing here drinking your bourbon, looking pretty,” Taylor teases.

“MeanwhileI’llgotalktoSophia’sparents.Haveyoumetthemyet?”

I cock an eyebrow at my brother. He might be six years younger than me but he's always been the

bossierone.

Iscoff,“YouthinkItalkedwithyourfiancée’sparents?WhothehelldoyouthinkIam?”
Taylorshakeshishead.“Iknow,sometimesIjust...Herparentsareveryniceandit’snicetoseea

nicefamily.”

“You think you can squeeze another nice into that sentence?” I know what my brother’s getting at,

though.Welostourparentswhenwewereyoung;wereshuffledaroundfromfosterhometofosterhome
foryears.

IwasoldenoughtopullmyselfupbymybootstrapsandkeepTaylorundermywing.Ihadplentyof

guiltoverthewholesituation,butIknewTaylorneededme,soIdidwellbyhim.

Taylorthough,beingyounger,alwaysmissedhavingamomanddad.Iseeitwhenhiseyesnarrow,

andforasecondIfeellikeshitfornotofferinghimmoreofafamilymyself.

LeavinglikeIdidforCanada,itprobablyfuckedhimupmore.ButTaylorwasinlawschoolwhenI

leftfortheYukon,hehadhislifemappedoutandheknewhowtotakecareofhimself.Andhehas.

Imaygivehimahardtimeforhisthree-piecesuits,buthe’sapartnerathissoontobefather-in-law's

lawfirm,andisengagedtoawomanwhocomesfromalegacyfamily.Healwayswantedafamilyandit
lookslikehe’sfinallygotit.

“Look,yousuredoknowhowtolayitononthick.”IsetdownmywhiskeyandnodtowardSophia’s

parents,thefamilythathepickedforhimself.“Introduceyourbrother.IknowI’mtheonlyfamilyyou’ve
got,togetherwecanmakeagoodshowofthings.”

Taylorclapsmeonmyback,andIknowIdidwell.I’mgladImadetheefforttocomedownhere,

leave my work on my mountain. I may be cold and not need a whole bunch of family getting up in my
businessthewayTaylorhasalwayswanted,butthisnightisn’taboutmeandwhatIneedorwant.This
nightisaboutmybrother.

We walk through the restaurant where people are mingling, still just arriving and getting cocktails

beforethesix-coursedinnerisserved.

Atthefarendstandsanoldercouplewithsilveryhairandbig,whitetoothysmiles.Whentheysee

Taylor and me approach, they open their arms and offer my brother hugs and a kiss on the cheek. Then
TaylorintroducesmetoTroyandCoraLarson.

“So,thisisthelong-lostbrotherwe’veheardsomuchabout,”Corasays,reachingouttotouchmeas

ifneedingtoprovetoherselfthatIamreal.“HowisitthatmydaughterSophiahasbeenwithTaylorfor
thelasttwoyearsandyetwe’veneverseenyourface?”

“Idon’tleavemymountainveryoften.GoodtomeetyouCora,Troy.”Iofferthematightsmile;it’s

thebestIcanfuckingdo.LikeIsaid:familymeetandgreetsarenotmybreadandbutter.

Speakingoffood,mystomachgrowls.Icouldusesomebreadandbutterrightaboutnow.
“Wellluckyforyou,youwon’thavetogotoofarfromitfortheactualwedding,”Sophiasays,sidling

up to her fiancé and wrapping herself in his arms. Sophia is blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing a pearl
necklace.Herdressleaveseverythingtotheimagination.IfIweretosumupthiswomanwithtwowords
itwouldbetight-ass.Ormaybe,hardline.Perhaps,stickinthemud, but I know that’s more than two
words.So,we’lljuststickwith,nothanks.

“Whatdoyoumean?”Iask.“Where’sthewedding?”
“InWhistler!”Sophiasays,squealing.SheclapsherhandsandforthefirsttimeIseeactuallifeinthis

boringwoman.“It’sgoingtobesmall,intimate,everyoneheretonightwillbethere.”

“Isthatso?TheweddingisatWhistler?”Iask,repeatingherstatementandlookingatmybrotherfor

confirmation.

Taylornods.“SophiaandImetontheslopesinAspen,andadestinationweddingwouldbeapropos.

Valentine’s weekend—in two months. We don’t want any of that long engagement fuss. And Valentine
nuptialsmaybeabitcliché,”Taylorsays,eyingthecirclearoundus,“ButanythingformySophia.”He
giveshisbride-to-beachastekissandherparentsclapencouragingly.

Idomybesttosuppressalaugh,andasIlookaway,myeyesfallonawomanwho’shasjustarrived

at the restaurant. She drops her purse onto an empty chair, pats down her wild blonde hair, and
unapologeticallypullsonthewaistbandofherskirt,adjustinghertights.

Shewalkstowardusandimmediatelymycocktwitches.Mybodyhasastrongreaction—maybeI’ve

beenaloneinthewoodsfortoodamnlong,butIdon’tthinkit’sjustthat.She’sgorgeous.

Shehasanupturnednose,darkbrowneyesthatseemtocatchthelightofeverylitcandle.Shelooks

likefreshairfeels.Likeyoucouldtakeadeepbreathofherandfeelbetter.

Herclothesareastarkcontrasttotheroom:brighttights,boldpatternedblouse,andashort-assskirt.

Itlookslikeshedressedwithoutcaution,withoutpretense—theclearoppositetoeveryoneelseherewho
ispoisedtoperfection.

Ialwayspicktheroadlesstraveled,thedirtpathandthegamble,maybethat’swhythiswomanisso

damnattractive.Sheisn’tordinary.Sheissetapart.

If Taylor and the others were still talking about wedding details, I couldn't tell you any bit of it.

Insteadofpayingattention,Iwasimaginingdraggingthewomanwiththekaleidoscopeoutfitawaytothe
nearesthotelroomforsomefun.

“Ava,”Sophiasays.“Youfinallycame.Ithoughtyoumightbeano-show.Again.”
Avafrownsopenly.“I’mtenminuteslate.God,hadyouwrittenmeoffthatquickly?”
“Well,youaremysister,”Sophiasays.“Ithoughtyoumightbeoneofthefirsttoarrive.Notthelast.”
CorashootsherhusbanddaggereyesthatlooklikesomekindofsecretfamilyvoodooI’veonlyread

about.

“Okay,girls,”theirfathersays,restinghishandsonbothofhisdaughters'shoulders.“Everyone’shere

now.Itlookslikeyoucouldbothuseadrink.”

Avarollshereyes.“Great,becausewhat’safamilyget-togetherwithoutalcohol?Imean,Idon’tthink

I’veeverheardofsuchathing.”

Shemayberippingherfamilyanewone,butasawaiterwalksaroundwithatrayofchampagneshe

reachesfortwoflutes.Handingonetohersister,shesmiles.“Sorry.IknowI’mbeingabrat.Itjusttook
meforevertogethere,andtheUberdrivergotlostandIknowthat’snoexcusebut,”she...stopstalking
andpushesahandoutinfrontofherasifpreemptingthelecturehersisterisabouttodish.

“Seriously,though,I’msorry.I’mnottryingtomakeexcuses.Iknowyouhatewhenpeoplearelate.

ButhereIam.Andhereyouare,”shesays,thistimedroppingherhandandraisingherchampagne.“To
SophiaandTaylor.Todreamscomingtrueandbeingsweptoffyourfeetandtohavingthehappilyever
afteryoubothdeserve.”

Personally,itmaybealittleover-the-topasanintroduction,orevenasatoast,butI’dbelyingifI

didn’tadmitthatherpresenceisrefreshing.There’snothingstuffyoruptightorboringabouther.Avais
everythingherfamilyisnot.

“You’resupposedtosavethetoastfordessert.Butthat’sfine.”Sophiasmilestightlyandthenturnsto

herfiancé.“Taylor,introduceyourbrothertoeveryone.”

Withthat,alleyesturntolookatme,butIdon’tlookaroundthecircle.
Becausemyeyes,well,theyarefirmlyplantedonAva.

CHAPTERTWO

GUZZLE

CHAMPAGNE

. No, I’m not a lush. I mean, unless it’s Monday night and I’m watching The

Bachelor.Buttodayisanexception.TodayI’matmysister’sengagementparty.

Now,IamhappyforSophia.Taylorseemslikeareallynice,albeitboring,man.Butyes,thetwoof

themaregoingtohaveaverynicelife.Isaynicebecausetherereallyisn’tabetteradjectivetodescribe
thepair.

Mostpeople,—ahem,mymother–wouldsayIamalittlejealous.
But why would I be jealous of my sister’s perfect life? I’ve never wanted a life filled with garden

partiesandteawiththeladies.

Thethingis,whenitcomestosistersthere’salwaysgoingtobeonewhoisthewinnerofthefamily,

andonewhoistheloser.

Ifinishmychampagne,instantlylookingaroundforanotherwaitertoreplenishmybubbly.Thereare

noneinthevicinityandtoavoidmymother’sjudgmentalgaze,myeyeshitthefloor.

Andthentheyrunupmylegtoseethegapingruninmypinktights.Ishouldn’thavewornpinktightsto

thisfancypantsrestaurant.Ishould’vewornsensiblesheerhose.Maybesomepeeptoeshoesandadress
fromadepartmentstore.

Ilookatmysisterinherdelicatepearlnecklaceanddiamondearringsandhugediamondring.She

lookssoputtogether.Soperfectlyputtogether.Soperfectlynotme.

Exhaling, I remember who this is about—Sophia and Taylor, and their wonderful news. I may be

jealous,butthatisn’ttherealemotionrisinginsideofme.Tearsprickmyeyesatthehappilyeverafter
theyarefinding.

Iliftmychin,openmyeyeswider,pasteonasmile.Iamdeterminedtobepresent.Tobehappy.To

beinthis.Ifocus,which,yes,it’snotexactlymystrongsuit,butItry.Ifocusandlistentotheconversation
aroundme.

“So, Samson, you live in the mountains? And what is it you do out there, exactly?” My mother is a

prier. She doesn’t drop a subject until she gets what she wants. Except, not with me. I’m a supreme
disappointment due to my lack of ambition and drive. Because, according to her, starting a “craft
business”isnotabusiness.It’sahobbyandIneedtogrowup.

Let’s not think about the fact that my business is thriving. Growing. That I just had a super sexy art

showatagalleryinBoulder.

Whoa.Deepbreaths,AvaGrace.Clearlycomingheretonighthasbeenatrigger.
Ineedtostopthinkingaboutmyself,which,Iknow,wouldbeanamazingaccomplishmentfora24-

year-old young woman to do. Yes, some people might say I’m a little self-indulgent, but that’s what
happenswhenyou’rethebabyofafamilylikemine.

MyfatherownsthemostprestigiouslawfirminallofDenver.Mymotherbasicallyrunsthecountry

club.Mysisterdoescharitywork.Yes,thatisheractualjobtitle.CharityWork.

Andme?I’manartist.Aflailingmessofanartist.
Soyes...seehowquicklyIambackatme?It’stimeformetogrowup.Iblink,stoplookingatmy

motherandfollowhergazeto—oh.

Samson.
Thisistheinfamousrecluse,long-lostolderbrotherofTaylor.
Samson.
Mystomachtightensandmyladypartsrespond.IswearIdroppedforty-threeeggsjuststandinghere

lookingathim.Helookslikehewasmadefromsolidoak.Orpine.Ormaybemaple?I’mnotactually
surewhatkindoftreesgrowintheYukonTerritorywhereheissupposedlyfrom,buthelookslikehewas
madefromtheearth.Asexybeard.Aflannelshirtrolledtohiselbows—which,inandofitself,isaturn
on.

Whoisthismysterymanwhohadtheballstoshowuphereatthisrestaurant,whereentréesarethree

figures,inbluejeansandyesterday’sshirt?I’malreadywantingtojumpinhislapandlethimrideme
home.

Orgivehimaridehome.
Orokay,I’mnotgoingtopretendhere,onelookatthishottieofamountainmanandallIwanttodois

havehisbabies.Allofthem.

“Iworkonamountain.”Samson’ssentenceisshortandtothepointandprettydamnvague.Mymother

hatesthiskindofanswer.

“Work? What kind of work?” My mother asks again. I look over at my sister and see her eying her

fiancé nervously. I know how badly she wants this night to go perfectly. Because that’s how everything
goesforSophia.

Whichisgood.Great,even.Imean,therehavetobepeoplewhoselivesgoperfectly,tobalanceout

thepeoplewhoselivesdonot.AndnowI’mrambling.Tomyself.Awkwardly.Probablylookinglikea
maniac.Tomakeupformyinternaldialogue,Iblurtout,“Ilovethemountains.AndIlovework.Thatis
sogreat.”

Everyone looks at me. I raise my empty flute and magically a waiter replaces the empty one and I

bringittomylipsanddrinkthatsweet,sweetliquidcourage.

NotthatIneedanycourageatthismoment;itseemslikeIhavethistotallyundercontrol.
“Iseverythingokay,AvaGrace?”myfatherasks,givingmeasternlook.AlookIamquitefamiliar

with.

“Oh,I’msogood.It’ssogoodtomeetyou—Sam?”
IhavethisthingwhereImakeupformyinsecuritiesbyactinglikeI’mtotallyconfidentandcool.All

ofwhichI’mnot.Idon’tthinkitreallyworks,butitmakesmefeelbetteraboutmyself.

“Samson,”hesayscoolly.“NotSam.Samson.”
Okay. Well, that was a conversation killer if there ever was one. Realizing I have overstayed my

welcome,Isqueezemysister’shandandleanintohereartoapologizeagainforbeinglate.Andtotell
hershelookslovely,andthatIamsohappyforher.Yes,it’salottowhisper,butSophiaandIareclose
andsheknowsmylanguage.Sheknowsme.Flawsandall.

Shewhispersback,“Iloveyoumore.”
Wantinghertobebackinthespotlight,Iaddressthegroup,“Well,it’sbeenfuncatchingup,butI’m

goingtogolookforcousinTrudy.Ihaven’tseenherinmonths.”Ismilewidelyateveryoneandmakemy
waytothecousinwhoisaboutasexcitingasfriedliver.

Iknow,that’snotverynice.ButlastChristmasIsatnexttoheratdinnerandsheliterallygavemethe

blow-by-blowofeveryPokémonshehadcaughtonhercellphone.Becausethat’sathing.Apparently.

Severalhourslater,theengagementpartyhascometoanend.IamproperlytipsytothepointthatIdon’t
evengiveadamnaboutmyrippedtights.

“Itwentwell,didn’tit?”Sophiaasksaswearesayingourgoodbyes.
“Itwentbrilliantly.EveryoneissohappyforyouandTaylor.”
Sophia smiles, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright —she is going to be a beautiful bride. “And

don’t forget we have a dress fitting soon,” she tells me. “Janet and Cecily are going to email you the
detailsaboutthebacheloretteparty.”

“Iknow.”
“It’sjustalottoremember,Ava,theweddingisgoingtobeheresofast,andI’mgoingtoneedyou.”
“It’sallonmycalendar,”Itellher.ShethinksI’llforget.ButIwon’t.
Imaybejealous.Andabrat.ButIloveweddings.AndIlovemysister.Evenifsheistheperfectone.
Sophiakissesmycheeksandleavestosaygoodbyetosomeofherotherguests.Meanwhile,Taylor

andSamsonfindtheirwaytothefoyerandthethreeofusexchangehellos.

“I’mgladtocatchyou—withoutSophia,Taylor,”Isay.“Because,Iwaswonderingifyouwouldlike

anyhelpwiththeweddingrings.”

Taylorpusheshislipsforward.“IthinkSophiahassomestrongopinionsabouttheweddingbands.”
“Iknow,Ijustthoughtifyouwantedthemtobecustom,I’dlovetohelp.”
“I’llletherknow,butdon’tholdyourbreath,Ava.YouknowhowSophiais.Andshe’llwanttheband

tomatchherengagementring.Inbothqualityandquantity.”

I try not take it personally, and instead offer him a fake smile. This is not about me. This is so not

aboutme.Thisisaboutwhattheywant.Ontheirhandsfortherestoftheirlives.

“Howwouldyouhelpwiththerings?”Samsonasks.
ThisisthemostI’veheardhimsayallnight.Iwatchedhimduringdinner,becausehowcouldInot?

HeisseriouslythehottestmanI’veeverseen.AndIdon’tthinkhesmiledorengagedinsmalltalkeven
once.IfIwastosumhimupintwowordsImightusesteakandpotatoes.Ornotnecessary.Orperhaps,
strongsilenttype.So,that’sthree.Yougetthepoint.

“I’m a jewelry designer.” I shrug, mostly because no one in my family actually takes my designs

seriously. Setting up an Etsy shop didn’t give my parents a reason to believe my fine arts degree from
Berkeleywasworthit.So,I’mnotholdingmybreaththatthismanwholivesaloneisthewoodsisgoing
tocareaboutcustomweddingringseither.

Jokesonthem,becausemyringsarefuckingamazing.
Theyjustdon’tunderstand.
“Doyouworkwithstones?”
“Ido.Iknowpeoplesaydiamondsaregirl’sbestfriends,butIlikemorepreciousgemstones...Ones

thataremoreunique.”

“Andyouusegoldforallyourmetalwork?Right?”Taylorasks,addingtotheconversation.
“Ididn’trealizeyouhadtakenaninterestinmyartistry,”Itease.
“Notme,I’vejustseenthewebsite,Sophiawasshowingmesomeofyourwork.Shehadsomeideas

ofhowyoucouldrevampyourwebsiteandpossiblygetmoreclicksifyoureworkedyourSEO.”Taylor
startsramblingaboutCPCandtargetedcampaignsandIzoneout.

“Gold?”Samsonasks,breakingthroughmymentalfog.“Wheredoyousourceitfrom?”
“There’saguyinPortlandwhoIbuywholesalefrom.It’snotwhatIwantexactly,butitworks.Do

youknowanythingaboutpreciousmetals?”

Samson shrugs. “Not much.” He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and for a fleeting, stupid

momentIwonderwhathotelheisstayingattonight.

Realizingtheconversationhasonceagainhitadead-endIofferTaylorahugandakissonthecheek.
“Itwasnicemeetingyou,Sam.”Iintentionallyleaveofftheson,wantingtogivehimalittlewiggle

roomincasehewantedtoflirt.

“Itwasnicetomeetyoutoo,AvaGrace.”
Okay.So,hewasn’tlookingforaninasmuchasagoodbye.Rogerthat,ruggedlysexymanfromthe

middleofnowhere.

IleavetherestaurantandtheNovembernightischillierthanIexpected.Irunmyhandsovermyarms

andlookaroundtheemptystreetforacab.Ofcourse,therearenonetobeseen.Ipulloutmyphoneand
bringuptheUberapp.Irequestarideandprepareforaten-minutewait.

“Youjustplanningonstandingouthereinthecold?”Samsonsays,comingupbesideme.
Ismile,hisfacewarmingmyheart.Okay,let’sbereal.Hisfaceiswarmingupmypussy.“I’mjust

waitingforaride.Idon’thaveacar.”

“Idon’thaveacarhereeither.”
“Athomeyoudo,though,right?Orhaveyouswornoffcarstoo?”
“I’mguessingyou’veheardsomestoriesaboutme?”
“Yeah,Iheardyouweresomecreepyloner,”Itellhim,deadpan.I’veheardnosuchthing.Taylorsays

hisbrothertookcareofhimforyearsbutthenjustwentofftherails.Noonesaidanythingabouthimbeing
acreep.“Iheardthatyou’reoutinthesticks,livingofftheland.Isthat,aboutright?”

“Somethinglikethat.”
“So...Didyouneedaridetoo?”Iask.Iknowit’stotallyinsane,butpartofmeiswonderingifIcould

endupwithhimtonight.Imean,Iwanttoendupwithhimtonight,buthe’sexactlythekindofmanIhave
writtenoff.

Unavailable.Unstable.Pronetowander.
Ifsomeonewantedtotrackthelastfouryearsofmyrelationships,Ithinkthey’dallbecategorizedin

oneofthosethreeways.Winning!

“Canyouride?”heasks,hisvoicelow,hiseyesonme.Ishecheckingmeout?Ipullinadeepbreath

realizing, yes. Yes, he is checking me out. Definitely checking me out. This hunk of a mountain man is
eyingmeup.

CanIride?Whatdoesthatevenmean?
Ilookdownatmyself,tryingtoseewhathesees.I’minbrightpinktights.Un-sexyblackballetflats.

Mytophaslittleponiesprintedalloverit.Yes,Iamthatgirl.Thatdorkofagirlwhoshopsthesalesrack
atForever21mostlytospitemymother.Butalso,becausetheyhavesomefreakingadorableclothes.

Notgettingaresponse,herepeatshimself,“Doyouridehorses?”Hishandbrushestheshoulderofmy

top.

Oh.Ponies.HorseRiding.
“I ride, I ride hard,” I smirk. “But not horses.” I cover my mouth because I’m laughing. Because I

literallyjustsaidthatoutloudtomysister’sfiancé’sbrother.Iknow,completelyinappropriate.

Samsonisunfazed.“So,whatdoyouliketoridehard,AvaGrace?”
Hiseyesnarrow,andIthinkthisishisversionofflirting.Maybelivinginthemountainshasmadehim

losesomeofhisgame,ormaybeheisoneofthoseguyswhothinkslessismore.

Itemboldensme.
“Iliketoridethingsthataresolid.Thingsthatarebig.Somethingthatknowswhattodowithagirl

likeme.”

“A girl like you?” His dark eyes sparkle—in a way I didn’t even know brown eyes could—and he

takesastepcloser.

“Yeah,”Isayleaningcloser.“Agirllikeme.Agirlwhohasnofilter.”
“Whydoweneedafiltertonight?”Helickshislips,hisquestionplain.Simple.

In the next millisecond, a thousand flimsy excuses run through my brain. But for some reason, they

don’t seem like they would work on Samson. Telling him that my sister might get mad seems so
inconsequential.Thetruthis,Iwantthis.He’slettingmeknowhewantsittoo.

AndIhaveliterallynothingtolose.Idon’tonlywearponiesonmysleeve;myheartistheretoo.The

universeistellingussomething.

“Iguesswedon’tneedafilter.”
TheUberpullsup,Samsonopensthedoorwithoutaskingpermission.Thenheslidesinafterme.
Thecarspeedsoff,andIsmiletomyself,knowingthiswon’tbeouronlyridetonight.

CHAPTERTHREE

RACE

likeagustofwind.Likewildfireontheloose.She’sbothaburningstarandafanningflame

andIdon’tthinkevensheknowswhatsheis.

Andthat’sokaybecausetonightwedon’tneedtoknow.
Tonightisn’taboutfiguringoutourshit,tonightisabouthavinggoodold-fashionedfun.AndIcantell

thatthisgirlisafirecracker.

Iwatchedherallthroughdinner.Shedidn’tthinkIwas,butdamn,there’snowayinhellIcouldkeep

myeyesoffher.

Shekepttouchingherhair,smoothingitdown,asifshecouldtamethewildnessthatisinher.
WhenIheardshemadejewelry,workedwithgold,Icouldjustimaginehersolderingpiecestogether.

Takingsomethingunfinishedandmakingitintoathingofbeauty.

In the car, she positions her body to face me, and she is unabashedly eye-fucking me. This girl is

gonnabetherightkindofcrazyinbed.

Damn,thisnightisgoingahellofalotbetterthanIthoughtitwould.
Ava Grace is fucking beautiful, that’s what she is. Her eyes are clear blue, big and round like

sapphires.I’dstareatthemallnight,butIhaveafeelinghereyesaregonnabeclosedhalfthetime,while
she’sonherback,pantingoutherpleasure.

Sittingnexttoherinthecar,Irunmyhandsupanddownherthighs.Truthis,Ican’tkeepmyhandsoff

her,andsheseemstolovetheattention.

“Youaremakingmeso...”shestarts,thenblinksandshakesherhead.
“So,what?”Ipress,notjustmywords.IpressmyhandbetweenherthighsuntilIcanfeelherwetness

throughhertights.Sheishungry.

Shelaughsnervously.“Sohorny,Sam.That’swhatIam.”
She’s taking me to her place, says she has a thing about sleeping in her own bed at night, and I

understand. This girl is more than just the free spirit she’d like everyone to believe she is. She’s been
bornandraisedinacountryclub.

Herparentsarefilthyrich,andsoshemaywanttobeastarvingartist,butdeepdownIcantellshe’s

usedtomoreluxuriesthanshelikestoleton.

Iknowthatforafactaswepulluptohercondo.It’sanicepartofDenver;thesidewalksareclean,

thestreetlampsarebright,andthere’snotrashonthepavement.Ifollowherupthefrontstepsandshe
unlocksthefrontdoor.

Idon’tgiveherahardtime,though,abouttheobviousfactthatherdaddypaysforthisplace.Andas

shepushesopenthedoorandleadsmethroughthefoyerintothelivingroom,myhandisonthesmallof
herback.

She flicks on a light and reveals a house made of cotton candy. There’s pink everything. Well, pink

andgoldeverything.

I’mtalkingpinkwallpaperandagoldchandelierandaplushpinkcarpetandthrowpillowsthatsay

hellolovelyandbemine.ShelivesinaValentine’sDaycard.

“Youdecoratethisplace?”Iask.
Hereyesflitoverherlivingroomandshesmiles.“Youlikeit?Imean,it’sprettymuchtheoppositeof

manlyman,there’snorusticcabinorwoodstove,”shesays,wavingherhandsinfrontofme.“Butmaybe
foronenightyoucanenjoytheambianceofaplacewithafemininetouch?”

Isteptowardher,myfingersinchinginsidethewaistbandofherblackvelvetskirt.“Oh,I’mlooking

forwardtoafemininetouch,alright.”

IlookatherdeadonbecauseI’mdeadserious.
Shedoesn’ttakeitthatway.Shedoesn’tthinkI’mgenuine,evenwhenshesawhowbadlyIwanther.
Herheadfallsback.Awaveofblondehairswishingoverhershouldersandalaughassweetasabox

ofchocolates—cherrycordialstobeexact.

“Oh, so you’re not just hard edges, you have some soft sides too?” Her heart-shaped lips part, her

eyesarewide,herneckstretchedandshelooksatme.“Youneedalittletenderlovingcaretonight,isthat
you’resaying,Sam?”

“That’sexactlywhatIneedtonight.”
Mycockisalreadystraininginmyjeans;it’sbeenalong-asstimesinceI’vehadawomanthatsmells

sogoodandlookssosweet,thisclosetome.

PeopleIworkwithmightsayIpusheveryoneawayfromme;thatIdon’tletpeoplegetclose.That

I’mahard-ass.

ButI’veneverreallycaredwhatpeoplesayorwhattheythink.
“Do you think my sister and Taylor are going to hate us?” Ava asks as my arms snake around her

waist.Ifeelherslippingfromthismomentandfeeltheneedtosteadyher.

Icockaneyebrowather,myhandsrunningunderherblouse,upherbarespine,touchinghersoftskin.

“Whatthehelldotheymatter?”

“Well,theymightnotlikethefactthatweare...”
“Do you really give a fuck about what they think?” I pull her closer to me. No way in hell is she

gettingaway.

“Imean,Idon’twanttoruinanythingforthem.Iwanttheirweddingtobeperfect.Morethanperfect.I

wantittobeeverything.”

“We’renotgonnaruinanythingbecausetheydon’tneedtoknowanything.Thisisjustyouandme,one

night.Alittlebitoffun.Right?”

Forasecond,IthinkAvaisgoingtopullaway;thatmaybeshedoesn’tliketheideaofaone-night

stand.Buthell,that’sallIhavetooffer.I’mnotmadetobeanybody’sman.

Ilookaroundherpinkandgoldhouse,thiscarnivalofalivingroom.Isureashellamnotmadetobe

herman,butwecanhaveagoodtime.

“Totally. Have some fun. That’s all it is.” She smiles, but it’s not as genuine as her laugh from a

momentago.Itmakesmefeellikeshit,anditmakesmewanttomakeherfeelbetter.

So, I do. I pull her close, cup her face with my hands, and I kiss her. I kiss her hard. Our mouths

collide,ourlipspart,ourtonguesentwine.Mycock,damnthatthing,isreadyfortherideshepromised,
andbyhersoftwhimpersinmymouth,Iknowshe’sreadytogetherenginesrevveduptoo.

“Damn,you’resomethingelse,AvaGrace.”Myfingerspulldownthezipperofherskirtanditfallsto

theground,landingontheplushpinkcarpet.SheliftsherarmsandIpulloffhertop.

Herbreastsarebeautiful,creamyandfull,andshe’swearingabrathatwasmadetobeseen.Lacyand

delicate.

Shereachesformyjeans,sheunzipsthemandherhandswraparoundmywaist.Sheslidesherhands

undermybriefs,grabbingholdofmyass.

“You like that?” I ask, my hands tugging at her ridiculous tights. I need them off, I need to see her

sweetlittlepussy,Ibetit’sassweetandpinkasthisfuckinghouse.

CHAPTERFOUR

AMSON

TAKES

complete control of the situation. He seems to inherently know that if left to my own

devicesthisentirenightcouldquicklybecomeadisappointment.

Becausethat’swhatIusuallydo.Gettooattached.Gettooinsecure.Gettoodeepinmyfreakinghead.
Rightnow,there’snoroomformetobeinmyhead.There’snoroomatall.
Samsonisinmysugarylivingroom,fillingupthespaceadequatelyenough.Morethanadequately.
Becausemyhandisdownhispants,insidehisboxers,andIfeelthelengthofhisshaft.
AndthereisnothingmerelyadequateaboutSamson'scock.
Ismileasmyfingersrunoverthevelvetysmoothnessthatishismanhood,thinkingtomyselfthatifhe

ledwiththisinsteadofascowlordismissiveword,hecouldhavesexwithanywomanhewanted.

Herunshishandsovermyass,tuggingdownmypanties,andIstepoutofthem.Theyarediscarded

nexttomyrippedtights,myskirt,andtop.Heexpertlyunclaspsmybra.

Maybe he does have sex with anyone he wants. Left and right, all the sex. That is the kind of man

Samsonis.Hedoeswhathewantsanddoesn’taskpermission.Hecertainlydidn’taskhisbrotherifhe
minded.

This is the kind of man I need. The kind of man I’ve been waiting for. His thumbs roll over my

nipples. My eyelids flutter, not intentionally, I’m just so overcome with this unexpected sensation. My
bodybeingcoveredbythehandsofthisrippedandruggedmountainman.

Hismouthisonmyneck,hisbeardticklingmycollarbone,andmypussyisdrippingwet.
Clichésbedamned,rightnow,thisisafuckingdreamcometrue.
“You like it when I touch you?” He’s asking a question that he clearly doesn’t need an answer for

becausehishandshavemovedtomypussy,andhefeelshowwetIamforhim.

So,Idon’tanswer,butIdoletoutasoftmoan,becausehowcouldInot?
Ihaven’tbeentouchedlikethisinsolong.Maybeforever.
WhyhaveIbeenwithsomanyfuckingidiotsovertheyears?Whydidn’tIholdoutforSamson?
“Youknowhowtotouchmycockniceandgood,don’tyou?”Herehegoeswiththequestionsagain,

questionsIcan’tanswer.BecausewhywouldIneedto?

Withhisboxersonthefloor,Ilookdownandtakeinhiscockinallitsfull,hard,glory.
“I’vehadsexbefore,ifthat’swhatyou’reasking,”ItellSamson.
“That’snotwhatIwasasking.Iwasjustsayingyou’regoodattouchingme.Ilikethat.Ilikethatyou

knowhowtotouchme,niceandslowly.”

Myheartgoespitter-patter.Yes.
And I unabashedly lap it up. I milk this romantic, swept-off-my-feet, unexpected rendezvous in my

livingroom.ThisisthekindofromanceI’vedreamedabout.

ThisiswhyI’msohappymysisterishavingaperfectwedding,aperfectmarriage,andaperfectlife.

Iwantthatforher;Iwantthatforeveryone.

Imaybeanartist,butI’maromanticatheart,andthisiswhatmydaydreamsaremadeof.
Amantouchingme,sounrestrained,hishandsrunningallovermyskinasifheownsme.Hiscockin

myhand,mypussywet,mybodyhis.

“So,youdon’tcarethatyou’renotmyfirst?”
Idon’tknowwhyIfeelthisdesire,thisneed,topushthisquestionevenfurther.Especiallysincethis

isjustahookup.Aone-nightstand.He’stheonewhocalleditthat.

Whichofcourse,itmustbe,becauseheismysister'sfiancé'sbrother.Helivesamillionmilesaway,

inthewoods.Hedoesn’thavearealjob.He’sarecluse.Anot-creep.He’sabsolutelynotthekindofman
Ineed.

Ialwaysgoforthesesortsofmen:unavailable,uncommitted...…ohhdamn.
Ineedtogetoutofmyfreakinghead.Samsonisrunninghisfingersovermypussy,andIexhaleafter

havingforgottentobreathe.

Oh,myGod.That’sit.That’sexactlyit.Ican’tthinkanymorebecauseSamsonhaspressedhisfingers

insidemypussy,he’srollinghisthumbovermyclitlikeheknowsexactlywhattodo.

Because he clearly does. A man like him has done this a hundred times before. I’m glad to be his

hundredandfirst.Becausethatmeanshehashadlotsandlotsofpractice.

“Oh,myGod,Samson,thatfeelssoso...”
“Fuckinggood?”
“Toomanyquestions,”Imoan.
“Justgivemeananswer.”
“Yes,”Iforfeit.“So,fuckinggood.”
He grins and picks me up—yes, literally lifting me off the ground with his ridiculous biceps.

“Where’sthebedroom?”

I smile, wrapping my legs around him, feeling weightless and beautiful and like a girl in a movie

becausenoguyhaseverattemptedtopickmeuplikethis—orwouldhavebeenevencapableofdoing
so—andyethereSamsonis,allstrongarmsandpersistence.

Samsonismydeepestfantasiescometolife.
Ipointtomyroomandhecarriesmethere,Iseealookofdoubtcrosshisfaceasheentersmybright

whiteandpalepinkbedroom.

“Idon’tthinkI’veeversetfootinabedroomthatmakesmefeelmoreoutofplace,”hesaysashesets

medownonthefloor.HetowersovermeandIlookupathim,smiling,teasing.

Ibitemybottomlip;wrapmyhandaroundhishardcock.“Didyouwanttoleave?”Iask,lowering

myselftomyknees.

Iwrapmymoutharoundhishardness,wideningmylipsandthenIstarttosuck.
“Hell,”hegrowls,“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Iuseonehandtocradlehisballs,lovinghowdeliciouslyhotandheavytheyare,tighttoo.Myhead

bobsupanddownandItakeasmuchofhimasIcan.There’ssomuchofhimthatIcan’ttakehimall,but
Itry.

Sucking him makes me feel so sexy, and he runs his hands through my hair making me feel like a

freakingqueenasIkneelbeforehim,pressingmyheadclosertohiscock.

Ilovethewayhecommands;thewayhetakeswhathewants.
Ilovethewayhewantstotakeme.
So,Igivehimtheblowjobthatwomen’smagazineswritearticlesabout.
Isuckhim,hard,fast.Myfingersrubbingalongtheridgesofhislength,mytonguecirclingaroundhis

softtip.Isuckhimuntilhe’sgroaningaboveme,tellingmehe’sabouttocome.

AndIjustkeepgoing.
Wantingsobadlyforhimtoexplodeinmymouth.Iwanttotastehim,allhissaltyrelease.Iwantto

swallowhiscome,andthenIwanttostandupandputhiscockinmythrobbingpussy.

“Oh,you’regonnamakemecomesohard,”hegroans.
Andhedoes.Idon’tstopsuckinghimasheexplodesinmymouth,hismilkycreamcoatingmythroat.

Iswallow,takingallofhim.

Whenhefinishes,Iwipemylips,heshakeshishead.
Istand,feelinglikeIjustaccomplishedamarathon.Exceptitwaslessexhaustingandgavememore

endorphins.Okay,itwasn’tamarathonatall.Isureasheckcan’trunorjog.Powerwalk,yes.Icando
that.Sortof.

Okay.Onceagain,I’mofftopic.
The point is, Samson doesn’t hesitate; he pulls me to him, his hands on my neck at the base of my

skull,mychintiltedtowardhim,hisfingersinmyhairandmybreastsagainsthischest.Hekissesmehard
withabandon.Kissesme,andthenhepullsmeontothebed.

CHAPTERFIVE

’

HER

BACK

,inherbed,wavyblondehairstrewnoutaroundherlikeahalo.Shelookssofucking

gorgeouswithherbreastssofull,herwaistnarrow,hereyesbright,andherpussywet.

“Youbetterspreadthoselegsandgetready.”
“Oh,I’mreadyforyou,Sam.I’mreadyforyoutocomeinme,hard.”Shesmilesagain,andsodoI

becausethisgirlhasgotamouthonherandIlikeit.Ilikethewaysheknowswhatherbodyneedsas
wellasIknowmyown.

“Good.”Istrokemyshaftafewtimes,it’sstillniceandhard,evenaftershegotdownonherknees

andsuckedmeuntilIcamelikeI’ddiedandgonetoheaven.

Istillcan’tbelievethisisthesisterofthattight-assSophiawho’smarryingmybrother.
AvaGraceisnothingprudishorboringorgeneric.
AveGraceisafuckingunicorn.
Igrabacondomfrommyjeans,slideitonquickly.Avawatches,smilingsoftly.
“Thankyou,”shesays.Hereyesarelockedonmineforamomenttoolong.Amomentthattellsmeshe

canfallformeinwaysI’mnotpreparedfor.

Tonight,isnotaboutfindingourhappilyeverafter,it’sabouthavingalittlefun.It’smybrotherandhis

girlwhoareridingoffintothesunset,right?Notaguylikeme.I’mnotthekindofguyagirllikeAva
Gracewantsordeserves.

Ileanoverher,myhandsoneithersideofhernarrowshoulders,andherhandreachesdowntoguide

meinsideher.

Her pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. As my cock fills her up, she whimpers — not in pain, in

pleasure.Butalsoinsurprise.

“You’resobig,like,tremendousreally.”
Ismile.Imaybeamountainman,butI’mstillaman.Agirltellingmeshelikesmycockisgonnagive

meanegoboost.

“Good.I’mgladyoulikethembig.”
“I’veneverhadoneasbigasthis.Clearly,I’vebeendoingitwrongalltheseyears.”
Herhandsslidedowntomyass,holdingmetightly,andIrockinsideher,fillingherupinwaysshe’s

neverbeenfilledbefore.

“Alltheseyears?Howoldareyou,AvaGrace?”
“I’mtwenty-four.Howoldareyou?”
Ourbodiesareasconnectedastheycanpossiblybe.MyfingerslacethroughhersasIthrustdeeper.
“I’mthirty-two.”
“Neverbeenmarried?”sheasks,betweenmoans.Herpussyispulsingaroundme,herbreathisbated.

She’sfuckinglovingthis.

Isigh,notwantingtostarttalkingaboutmarriageandcommitment.NotwhenIamsoclosetocoming.
Hereyessearchmine,though,andIfeelcompelledtoanswer.
“Neverbeenmarried,”Itellher.“AndIneverintendto.”
“Ithoughtasmuch,”shesays,sighing,andIcan’ttellifit’sbecauseofwhatIsaidorifit’sbecause

herbodyisreactingtotheorgasmrushingoverher.

Herpussyissoslick,sofuckingwetandready,andImoveinandoutofherniceandhard.
Shewhimpers,andIkeepherarmspinnedasIfillherup,asIcome.Shecomestoo,likingitwhenI

amincontrol.Withmeguidingher,wecometogether.

Fuck,thiswomanhasworkedmybodyoverlikenowomaneverhasbefore.
Ikissher—Ican’thelpit.Iknowthishook-upmeansnothing,butthereisapartofme—atender

partthatIneverthinkaboutortalkabout—thathascomealive.ThatisawakenedasIholdAvaGracein
myarms,asIkisshersweet,lusciouslips.

Ikissher,mycockstillinher,herhandsstillheld.Ikissher,andforasplitsecond,IthinkIcould

staylikethis.Inthiscottoncandyhousewiththewomanwhoistheoppositeofme.

Becauseitfeelssogoodandsoright.
“I don’t want to kill the mood but I’ve gotta pee,” Ava says, before rolling out from under me,

scootingoutofbed,herbareasssofuckingcuteasshewalksaway.

When she leaves, I sit up, look at her room. I see her stack of books—all romance novels—with a

Kindleontop,andahandwrittenlist,titled,TBR:WILDER,MotherTrucker,HUCK,LoveIsCrazy.

Not having any idea what any of that means, I prop myself back up on the pillows on her bed and

noticeaDVDcollectiononashelfnexttoherwall-mountedTV.EveryfuckingromanticcomedyIswore
I’dneverwatch.

She has a framed photo on her wall that reads She Loved with All Her Heart. And the piece de

resistanceisthedriedflowershangingfromacorkboard.

This woman is gorgeous, funny, sexy, and knows how to give one hell of a blowjob... but she also

clearlywantstofall.Hardandfastandforever.

Ican’tbethatforher.
AllIcanofferisonenight.
After all, I left town three years ago, and never came back. I’m a loner, a recluse, a man who has

neverbeeninlove.

I’mnotperfect;hell,ofcourse,Iknowthat.
ButAvaGraceislookingforperfect.
She’slookingforsomeonethatisnotme.

CHAPTERSIX

TRUTH

we slept together four more times. But who’s counting? Okay, clearly, I am counting. And

thosefourtimesdon’tevenincludetheblowjob.Orthehandjob.OrthetimeIsatonhisface.

Okay,IalreadysaidIwasn’talush,butIalsowanttherecordtoshowthatIamnotahussy.
ButIdoliketohavefun.AndIdid.Allnightlong,Ihadsomuchfun.Allthefun.
The next morning, Samson is still asleep, which I think is kind of cute, considering he claims to be

somerough-and-tumblemountainman.Ipictureamanlikehimgettingupatthecrackofdawn,buthereit
is,8:30inthemorning,andhe’ssnoring.

Islipoutofbed,pullonapairofpantiesandatanktop.ThenItieonarobethatbarelycoversmy

ass.Ipullmyhairupinamessybunandlookinmybathroommirror.

Blinking,ItrytorememberhowmuchchampagneIhadattheengagementdinner.Maybenotsomuch

afterall.There’snoheadache.Myeyesaren’tred.Andmyskinisactuallyglowing.

Apparently,mybodyrespondswelltomountainmansex.
Inmyfluffypinkslippers,Ipadtothekitchen,whereIheatakettleofwaterandmeasureoutgrounds

formyFrenchpress.

It’sFridaymorningandIhaveadayofworkahead,butIalsodon’twanttokickmyhouseguestout

earlierthannecessary.Infact,I’mthinkingthatapost-breakfastshowersoundsliketheperfectwaytoadd
afewhourstothisrendezvous.

I pop two English muffins in the toaster and pull out a jar of strawberry jam. The whole time, I’m

thinkingaboutwaysmysistercouldcometotermswithmeandherfiancé’sbrotherbecomingacouple.

I’mnottryingtogetaheadofmyself,butasIpullabutterknifefromthedrawer,mymindisimagining

pickingoutnewsilverwareforaweddingregistry.

JustasI’mgrabbingthehalf-and-halffromthefridge,IhearSamsongettingoutofbed.
HecomesinthekitchenjustasI’mpouringthecoffee.“Coffee?”Iask.
Hegruntsoutayes,andwhenImovetoaddcreamheshakeshisheadfiercely.
“Justblack.”
Ihandhimamugofsteamingjavaandwatchasheexaminesitasifitmightbepoison.
“Isthereaproblem?”
“Themug?”Heturnsittowardme,thewordsprintedontheceramicreadYou’reahotmess.
Ismile,takethemugfromhimandhandhimmine.“Thatbetter?”
Hereadsthewordsonthenewmug,Maketodayyourbitch.
Thatgetsatinysmilefromhim.
“Notamorningperson?”Iask.
Hesighs,andthentakesalongsipofcoffee.IturnfromhimandbuttertheEnglishmuffins,addjam,

thenhandonetohimonaclothnapkin.WecarryourbreakfasttothelivingroomandIsitcross-leggedon
thecouch,eyinghimandhisnakedbody,savefortheplaidboxershepulledonbeforeemergingfrommy
bedroom.

HischestisjustaschiseledandrippedasIremember.
“It’snotthemorningI’mhavingahardtimewith.”
Foramoment,mybreathcatchesandIthinkthatmaybehe’sgoingtosaysomethinglike,I’mhavinga

hardtimebecauseIdon’twanttoleaveyou.Or,I’mhavingahardtimetryingtofigureouthowwecan
explaintoTaylorandSophiathatwearestartingarelationship.

“I’ve got to fly back home today, turnarounds like this are rough. I flew in yesterday afternoon and

haven’tevenbeenheretwenty-fourhours.IwasjustthinkingmaybeIshould’veallowedformoretime
here.”

“Moretimefor...”Myheartthumps.Moretimeforme...?
“MoretimetocatchupwithTaylor.Ihaven’tseenhiminthreeyears,alothaschangedsincethen.But

Igottagethome.IhaveameetingtomorrowIcan’tmiss.”

Myeyesnarrow,seeingthroughhisflimsyexcusetogetawayfromme.Whatkindofmeetingdoesa

mountain man need to attend? What, does he sit around with the bears and wolves discussing last
quarter’sfinancialstatement?

Myheartfalls,asnaïvelyandridiculousasitis,Ihad—inthespaceofthenight—thoughtthatmaybe

thistimethingswouldbedifferent.ThatmaybeSamsonwouldbreakalltherulesandturnouttobemore
thananunavailableanduninterestedman.ThekindofmanIalwaysfallfor.

Buthe’snot.
Hemaymakemyladypartsmelt;myheartbeatfast—hemaybefunnyinanI-know-I’m-an-asshole

kindofwayandmayseemlikethesortofmanwhocouldkeepmycrazyincheck.

Buthe’snotgoingtobethatforme.
I’mtryingtobethismatureandput-togethergrownup,butstill...Ican’thelpbutwonderwhenitwill

bemyturn.Whenwillitbemychanceforahappilyeverafter?

“Well,”Isay,tryingtobeanadult.“It’sstillearly,maybeyoustillhavetimetomeetupwithTaylor

beforeyouleave.When’syourflight?”

“12:30.”
“Thenyoushouldgo,youshouldgotoyourbrother.”
Helooksatmeandnods.
“Callhim.Ifyoudon’t,willyouevenseehimbeforetheweddinginFebruary?”
“No,well,exceptforthebachelorparty.”
“Isthatalreadyplanned?”
Samson snorts. “Everything with my brother is planned. I swear he has an itinerary for everything.

Makessense,though,growingupthingswerereallyrockyforus,andnowhecravessecurity.”Whenhe
finishes,hisjawisset,andhelookstense.

I know bits and pieces about Taylor’s childhood. How he grew up without his parents and floated

fromhometohome.

Itrytosoftentheconversation.“Well,Sophiaisthesamewayaboutschedulesandplans.That’swhy

theyareperfectforeachother.”

Samsonsmirks.“Youthink?Twopeople,whoarethesamemakeagoodmatch?”
“I never thought of it like that, but those two seem to get along so well. They’re really compatible.

I’veneverseenthemargue.”

Samsonshrugs,“Inthatcase.”
“So,when’sthebachelorparty?”Ican’thelpbutask.“Thebachelorettepartyisthefirstweekendin

January.AmonthbeforetheweddingonFebruary14.”

“Thatmakessense,that’sthesameweekendasthebachelorparty.Theyprobablyplanneditthatway.”
“Yep,can’tbeartobeoutofoneanother’ssightforlongerthannecessary,”Isay.
Theconversationstalls,andIknowit’stimetosaygoodbye.
“Well,”Samsonsays,settingdownhiscoffeecupandpushingupfromthecouch.“IguessIshouldget

going.”

AfewminuteslaterSamsonstepsoutofthebedroomwithjeansandaflannelshirton,readytoface

theday.

Hethrowshisduffelbagoverhisshoulder.“It’sbeenfun,”hetellsme.
“Superfun.”Ileanoverandgivehimakissonhischeek.
Thesex-vibefromthenightbeforeisslippingfartherandfartheraway.
He doesn’t make a move to kiss me or grope me or bend me over. All things I would have done

willingly.

Instead,hejustnodsandsays,“IguessI’llseeyouatthewedding?”
Andthenhe’sgone.

CHAPTERSEVEN

EAVING

Ava’scondoishardashell.

Here’s the thing, I never thought about settling down and getting married. Not because I’m some

coldheartedasshole,it’sjustthataftereverythingwithmyparentsIknewI’dnevergetattachedlikethat
withanotherperson.

Theydiedtragically–andIblamemyself.MybrotherandIwereleftinthewake,anditshowedme

howfragilelifecanbe.ThelastthingI’veeverwantedtodoisgetwrappedupwithsomeone,havea
familywithsomeone,onlytoruinitall.

Sonow,I’marealist.Andtherealityisthis:lifeisfuckinghardandscaryanditcanchangeinthe

blinkofaneye.Thelastthinganywomanneedsismeandmybaggageandmymountaintomakeitany
harder.

ButwalkingawayfromAvaGrace?Afterthenightweshared?Ithurtslikehell.
Imadelovetohersweetlittlebodyallnightlong,wokeupwiththetasteofherpussystillonmylips.

IwalkedintoherkitchenandsawherlookinglikesunshineandpromiseandhopingthatIcouldofferher
allofme.

Isawwhatshewasthinkingalltooclearly.
So,IleftwithnothingmorethanagoodbyebecauseIcan’tofferheranypromises.
Whoknowswhat’sgonnahappentomeoutonthemountain?Icoulddie,freezetodeath.Icouldget

lostinasnowstormorfallinanavalanche.

Thelastthinganyoneneedsisamanwhomightnotalwaysbearound.It’stoofuckingrisky.
Mybrothermeetsmeatthecoffeeshop.AfuckingStarbucksbecausethat’sthekindofmanheis.I

watchhimorderaskinnylattewithtwosugars.Watchinghim,Iconcealasmile.Poorly.

“Whatareyoulaughingabout?”Taylorasks.
“Nothing, but are you sure two sugars will be enough?” I get my black drip coffee and carry our

drinksovertoanemptytable.

“Ithoughtyouwereflyingoutearlytoday,”Taylorasksasheliftshiswhitepapercuptohismouth,

waitingformetoanswer

“I’vegotanhourbeforeIhavetogettotheairport,thoughtwecoulddosomecatchingup.”
Taylorlaughs.“Catchup?Samson,you’remybigbrotherbutforlastthreeyears,you’vebeenMIA.I

knowthingsgotroughforyouhereforawhilebut—”

“Roughforme?Taylor,Itookafuckingbreak.Workingforthemanmademecrazy.Andyou’vebeen

finewithoutme.”We’vetalkedeveryfewmonths—enoughtoknowhewasproposingtoSophia,enough
toshowupfortheengagementparty.“Youdon’tneedmearound.Youwenttolawschool,haveSophia
andherfamily—youdon’tneedme.”

“You’restillavoidingthequestion.”Taylorlooksdown,avoidingmyeyes.Helookslikealittleboy,

like the nine-year-old who has lost his parents, who is looking for anyone to hold onto. I was the only
constant,andthenIleft.LookingathimnowIseehestillneedsme.

“Look, with the wedding—the guest lists, and Sophia’s family being so involved,” Taylor, says,

lookingbackupatme.“Sometimes,IjustwishIhadmybrotherback.You'retheonlyfamilyI’vegot.”

“I’mhere,aren’tI?Iboughtatickettocomebackforyourbachelorparty.IknowI’mtheonlyfamily

you’vegot,andmaybeI’vebeenbusygettingmyshittogetherforthelastthreeyears,butI’mnottoobusy
foryou.AndtheweddingbeinginWhistlerisfuckingperfect.It’sgorgeouscountryupthere,andnotso
farfromwhereIlive.”

“Iwish I’d known.Sophia and Ihave gone skiing therethe last fewValentine’s Day weekends. It’s

whywe’regettingmarriedthere.”Heshakeshishead.“Ijustwishyou’dinvitedmetoyourplace.”

“I’m sorry, Taylor.” And I am. It’s just another reminder that I am not in a place to be in a real

relationship—Ican’tevenmakethingsworkwithmylittlebrother.

“Iputmylifebacktogether,that’sagoodthing,”Itellhim.“AndnowI’minaplacewhereIcanbe

moreapartofyourlife.Maybeit’sallcomingtogetherattherighttime.”

“Yousoundlikeaninspirationalbook,notliketheolderbrotherIknowwho’salwaysswingingfists

andcallingpeoplenames.”

“I’vechanged.”
“Howmuch of youchanged? You stillbelieve that you oughtto be alone,so you don’t accidentally

hurtthem?”

Ilookdownatmycoffeecup,realizingthatmybrotheristheonlypersonontheplanetwhocouldtalk

tomelikethis.Likeafuckingshrink.Myemployeeswouldneveraddressmesointimately.

“Istillthinkthat,but,”Isayofferinghimaslowgrin,notwantingtoendthisonanegativenote.“You

know,I’msurehappyyoufoundSophia.Butyoudon’thavethesamebaggageIdo.”

“That’snottrue.Youcouldstillfindsomeone.Thenightmomanddaddiedwas—”
“Stop,”Itellhim.“IknowyouandIcangettotheheartofthingsprettydamnfast,butthat’scuttingit

waytooclose.”

Taylornodsthendropsthesubjectandtriesagain.“Whathoteldidyoustayatlastnight?”
Ishould’vethoughtthispartthrough.“Onebytherestaurant.”
“Bytherestaurant?”Taylorasks.“There’snotahotelwithinaten-blockradiusoftherestaurant.What

wasitcalled?MaybeanewonewasdevelopedsinceI’velooked.”Taylor,alwaysonetostickwiththe
facts.

“Idon’tknow,itwasnice.Alotofpink,though.”
Taylorfrowns.“Pink?”
“Yeah,”Ismile.“Pinkcarpet,pinkcouch,pinkwalls.”
Taylor sits back, eying me as if he’s onto me. Hell, he probably is. “I saw you leave the restaurant

withAva.”

“Yeah?”
“Didyougohomewithher?”Taylorasks,notbeatingaroundthebush.
I’msurewherethisisgoing,andInodslowly.ButTaylor’sapproachsurprisesme.
“Thatgirl’squiteacharacter,right?SophiaandIarejustgladshehasn’tgottenmarriedyet.”
Thisgetsmyattention.
“Why’sthat?”
“Shehastheseideasinherheadaboutlove,marriage.Shethinkshappilyeverafterequalsaromantic

comedy.”Taylorshakeshishead.“ShedrivesSophiacrazywithhertalkaboutsoulmatesinbestfriends.”

“Andthat’snothowloveworks?”Iask.
Taylorshrugs.“Look,SophiaandIareinlove.Butit’snotthekindthatelicitspuppiesandbedsof

roses.”

“Puppies?”
Taylor shakes his head; he clearly has plenty of opinions about Ava. “Girls love puppies, right?”

WhenIdon’trespond,hecontinues,“ThethingaboutAva,that’sdifferentthanSophia,isshehasapattern
forfallingforeverywrongguy.Thegirl’sbeenhurtbymoreassholesthananywomanIknow.Shealways
goesforthewho'sunavailable,adouchebag.So,whenIsayI’mgladshe’snotmarried,Imeanit.Ifshe
gottiedtooneoftheguysshe’sdateditwouldonlyendinbadnews.Shehashorribletasteinmen.”

“Isthisawarning?”
There’satighteninginmychest,Idon’tlikethewayTayloristalkingaboutAvaGrace.Oraboutme.I

sawAva’sapartment,sawherDVDsandherquoteoftheday.Igetthatshe’saromantic.ButIalsosaw
herfunny,heartonhersleeve,all-inapproachtolife.Itwasfuckinghotashell.

“Look,AvaGraceisnotmybusiness,”Taylorfinishes.“ButSophiais.Idon’twantanythingtoputa

hitchinherweddingplans.Andyouhookingupwithhersisterwouldnotendwell.”

Ishrug.WhatthefuckamIsupposedtosay?Hell,onedayinDenverwithmybrotherandI’malready

fuckingthingsupforhim.Therefore,Idon’tgetclosetopeople.Ialwaysmessthingsup.

I’mbetteroffaloneinthemountains.
Taylorpusheshislipsforward.“Ifyousleptwithher,fine,butjustletthatbeenough.”
Iraisemyhands,lettinghimknowhecandropit.“I’mleavingforthemountains,Iwon’tfuckanything

up,Ipromise.”

––

Later,inmyhousewiththefireroaringinthehearth,Esme,myhousekeeper,bringsmeatumblerofmy
favoritewhiskey.

“It’ssogoodtohaveyouback,Samson.”Esmeisasixty-year-oldwomanandtakescareofallthe

thingsIdon’twanttomanage.Groceriesandlaundryandshitthattakesmeawayfrommyonefocus:the
minesthatmademeabillionareandsetmeupforlifeinFaro,atownIlove.Mostlybecauseit’ssmallas
fuck.Denverisniceandall,widestreetsandsidewalksandrestaurantsthatservemorethangreasydiner
foodlikewehavehere.

ButFarodoesn’thaveAvaGrace.
“Everythingalright,Samson?”Esmeasks,closingthedrapesoverthewindowsinmystudy.
“I’mgood,it’slate,though,youshouldcallitaday,”Itellher,knowingshestayeduplatewaitingfor

myarrival.

“Well,welcomehome,dear,”shesaysbeforeleavingthestudy.
Ileanbackintheleatherchair,thinkinghowgooditistobeinthisroomthatfeelslikehome.Afar

cryfromAva’spinkandgoldcondo,that’sforsure.

There’s a deer head mounted above the fireplace, rich leather sofas and walls lined with books.

There’sabearskinrugonthefloorandenoughwhiskeyintheliquorcabinettogetmethroughtenyearsof
wintersnowstorms.

MybrotherthinksIliveinsomecabininthemiddleofnowhere,andIdoliveinacabin,anditisthe

middleofnowhere,butit’salsothemiddleofmyfivethousandacres.Anditmaybeacabin,butnotwhat
he’spicturing—noonewouldcallitrustic.

ThiscabinwasbuiltbyaguynamedJaxonandhiscrewinIdaho.Theybuildcustomhomes—Isaw

themonarealityTVshow.Hiredthemrightaway.Andthisoneisfuckingmagnificent.

Ihaditbuilttwoyearsago,afterthewindfall.IcameouttotheYukontostrikeitonmyown,butafter

ayearhere,Imanagedtostrikegold.

Iwasminingforgold,butsowerealotofguys.Therewereafewnewsstoriesthatcameoutabout

somepeoplegoingtotheYukonandfindinggold.

NeverthoughtI’dbesolucky,butIwassickoftheninetofivegrind,nottomentionIwasfucking

thingsupleftandright.Drinkingtoomuch,playingwaytoofuckingharddddd—itwaslikeafteryearsof
taking care of Taylor, my body rebelled against the idea of being responsible. All I wanted was to let
loose.

IneededafreshstartifIeverwantedtogetmyshitinorder.
Iwasoneoftheluckyones.
Ihitenoughgoldtosetmeupformylifetime.
IstillminebecauseIlovetobeinthegreatoutdoors,amodern-daytreasurehunter.Ilovethisland

andIlovethiscountry.BeingouthereletmeclearmyheadtofigureoutwhoIwasandwhy.

It’ssafeouthere,noonegettingtooclose.There’snoonetohurt.
Mymind,though,itisn’tclearrightnow.Rightnow,I’monlythinkingaboutAvaGrace.
Hersmileandherlaugh.ThinkinghowIleftherthismorningandwonderingwhyIwasn’tthekindof

manwhocouldjuststay.

IwishIcouldseeheragain,speaktoher.Learnallabouther.ButIknowamanlikemewouldonly

hurther.FromwhatTaylorsaid,she’sbeenhurtenough.

Butdamn,I’maselfishbastardbecauseIstillneedtoseeherface.
Itakeanotherdrinkofmywhiskey,gladtobehomeanddrinkingthegoodstuff,andgetoutmylaptop.

IpullupfuckingFacebook,thinkingthat’sthebestplacetofindthisgirl.

AfewclickslaterIhaveaccesstoherpublicprofile.Itlistsherbirthday,whereshewenttocollege,

evenheremailaccount.

My cock is hard the moment I see her face, and there is picture after picture of her. In every single

one,she’ssmiling,lookinglikeabreathoffreshair.

Iscrollthroughherfeedandseeherpostaboutgettingapedicurewithagirlfriend,picturesofrecent

jewelrydesigns—incrediblyimpressivedesigns—andmostrecently,apostaboutgoingtohersister’s
engagementparty.

Besidesherupdates,Iseeshe’stakenquizzes.Lotsoffuckingquizzes.
Whatcharacterfromtheseromanticcomediesareyoumostlike?
Whoshouldbeyourleadingman?
Whatisyourdreamdate?
EveryquizzeroinginonthefactthatAvaGraceisahopelessromantic.
I swallow, not believing I have the capacity to be the man she needs, but my memory of our night

togethertellsmeIshouldhaveheranyway.

I take another drink. My head feels less cloudy, things are becoming clearer. Even though it is the

middleofthenight,andit’sbeenalong-assday—IknowwhatIwant.WhatIneed.

I’vegottotalktoAvaagain.ButIneedtotakeadifferentapproach,adifferentangle.BecauseIdon’t

wanttogetcloseandhurther.WhenIleftthismorning,IgavehereveryreasontothinkIwasjustlikethe
restofthemenshe’dbeenwith.

Detached,unavailable,oneanddone.
MaybeIcantrysomethingdifferent.MaybeIcangiveherareasontothinkI’mmore.Awomanlike

AvaGracedeservestobewooed—shewantsaromanceworthyofamovie,andfuck,Imaynothaveany
cluewhatitmeanstofallinlove,butIwanttoseeifIcanwinAvaGrace’sheart.

Withoutasecondguess—becausewhenImakeupmymind,Idon’tsecondguessmyself.
ItypeintheURLforFastmailandIcreateanaccountformyself.AwaytogettoknowAva...away

forAvatogettoknowme—withoutjudgmentorpreconceivedideasaboutwhatkindofmanIam.

ItwillgivemeawaytofigureoutifIhavewhatittakestobethemansheneeds.
Icancomposeanemail.
To:AvaGraceWentworth
From:heartofgold

CHAPTEREIGHT

SPEND

the rest of the day wishing I were more like Sophia. I can’t help think that Sophia is doing

somethingright.

Maybemypersonalityisaturn-off.MaybeIdrivemenawaywithmypinktightsandmyponytops.
I sort through my clothing, looking for something Sophia would wear. Unfortunately, I don’t own

khakisorturtleneckssoIamleftwearingmyleggingsandUggs.ButtherecordshouldstatethatItried.

Andusually,ontheheelsofaguylettingmeknowtheyaren’tinterested—thanks,Samson—Iwould

drinkabottleofPinotGrigioandorderanextracheesepizzawhilewatchingHowtoLoseAGuyinTen
Days.But,thiswasanewme.AnewAvaGracewhocouldbemorelikemyresponsible,sensiblesister.

Soinsteadofindulginginliquidcaloriesandacarbaliciouscrust,Ibakeachickenbreastandsauté

somebroccoli.Ihaveonesensibleglassofredwine–becauseoftheheart-healthybenefits–andinstead
of watching Gilmore Girls reruns in bed, I make a cup of chamomile tea and download Amazon’s Top
LiteraryFictionpickof2017.Yes,itsoundsboringasfuck,butthatisthepointhere.

ThenextmorningIwakedeterminedtobemybestself.AftergettingreadyforthedayIsitdownwith

yogurtandblueberries,acupofcoffeeandopenmylaptop.ClickingonmyemailIpursemylipstogether,
notrecognizingoneofthesenders.Iclickonitanyway.

From:heartofgold

AvaGrace,

Youmaynotrememberme,butIrememberyou.Thoughtsofyoukeepmeupatnight,Ican’tgetyououtof
mymind.

Iwanttoknowmoreaboutyou;Iwanttoknoweverything.
Butfirst,tellmethis,whatisyourdeepestdesire?
Yoursecretissafewithme.
–HOG

Whattheactualfuck?

IwrackmybrainforHeartofGold.Ihavenoideawhothatis...Heremembersme?Isitevenahe?
AmIstraightupgettingcatfished?
Iswallow.
Ican’tgetyououtofmymind.
Myhandsshake,butwhyaremyhandsshaking?Whoisthisemailevenfrom?
Myfingershoveroverthekeyboard,shakinguncontrollablybecauseIdon’twanttobemessedwith.

Butalso,becausethisemailisthemostexcitingitemofcorrespondenceI’veeverreceived.

Thismaybeacompletejoke,awayformetomakeafoolofmyself…butmaybeit’snot.Maybethere

reallyissomeoneouttherewhoisfantasizingaboutmethewayIwasfantasizingaboutSamsonallnight.

Hell,maybeitisSamson.
Irereadthemessage.
Ican’tseemtogetyououtofmymind.
Okay, definitely not Samson, he hightailed it out of my place faster than a cheetah — if there were,

like,cheetahsinDenverapartments.

Ican’thelpmyself.Itypearesponse.

To:heartofgold

HOG,

whoareyou?
–AG

IhitsendbeforeIthinknotto.

IhitrefreshasifHOGwouldhaveseen,composedandsentanemailallinthespanoftwoseconds.
HOGhasn’t.
Itakeabiteofmyyogurt.Suddenly,Idon’twanttoeat.Ijustwantaresponsefromthisperson.Is

someonemessingwithme?

Icleanoutmyinbox.
Thattakessixseconds.
Refresh.Nothing.
Icarrymybreakfastbowltothesink,washit,setittodry.
Returntomycomputer.Refresh.
IimagineMegRyaninYou’veGotMail,wishingIcouldgobackintimeto1997whenanalertwould

tellmeyou’vegotmail.

There’snoalert,butthereisanewmessage.
Iopenit.

From:heartofgold

DearAG,

WhoIamisn’timportant.
Yourdeepestdesire?Thatis.
-HOG

Well,thatisnothelpful.

Mydeepestdesire?Whodoeshethinkheistoasksuchathing?
IhavemostofwhatIwant.
Ilikemylife.Myhouse,myjob,myfamily—
Allthesethingsaregood.I’mnotlookingforamantoentertainme—Iknowhowtoentertainmyself,

withavibratororwithout.IamsatisfiedwithwatchingmoviesI’veseenadozentimesbeforemeetingup
withgirlfriendstogoshopping.Mylifeisgood.Great.

Butwhatismydeepestdesire?
AndwhywouldItellittoHOG?
Myphonerings,it’smysister.
“Hey,what’sup?”Iask.
“I’mgladyouanswered,so...Iwasthinking...”Sophiastarts.
“Whatwereyouthinking?”
“Iwasthinkingthatyoushouldbethinkingaboutwhoyou’regoingtobringwithyoutothewedding.

Your date is really important. I mean, whoever it is will be in the photographs, and it’s not that I want
everythingtobeperfect–”

“Butyouwanteverythingtobeperfect.”Ilaugh,knowingmysisteralltoowell.
“Notperfect,just...Idon’twanttolookbackatthisweddingalbumtenyearsfromnowandnoteven

knowthemanyouarestandingwith.”

“That’salotofpressure.Youwantmetofindamanwhoisworthyofaten-yearmemoryinthenext

twomonths?YoudoknowI’mnotdatinganyonenow,don’tyou?”

“That’sjustthething,though,Ava.Maybeyoushouldstartthinkingaboutlookingforsomeoneyoucan

haveaseriousrelationshipwith.”

“Where is this all coming from?” I laugh again, this time sharper, more pained. My sister doesn’t

notice,andforthatIamglad.

“Sophia,”Itellher.“Wedon’tneedtomakethisaboutme.Thenexttwomonthsshouldbeallabout

you.WhoIdateandbringtoyourweddingisseriouslyalowpriority.Hell,I’llbringanybodyyouwant
tothewedding.OrIcanevengostag.”

“Thatwouldtotallymessuptheseatingarrangements.”
“You’vealreadyfiguredoutseatingarrangements?Yourengagementpartywasonlytwodaysago.”
“Theweddingisinafewmonths,I’mnotbeingcrazy.”
“Ithoughtyouwereonlyinvitingtwentypeople.Icaneatwherever.”
“Canyoubemoresupportive,please?”
Iexhale,notinterestedinthislevelofdetailontheheelsofthemostintoxicatingly,unexpectedemail

ofmylife.

“JustsitmenexttocousinTrudy,”IsaytoplacateSophia.“Shewon’tbringadate.”
“Youhaven’theard?”sheasks.
“Heardwhat?”
“Trudygotengaged.Yesterday.”
“Noway.”IshakemyheadrefusingtobelievethatmycousinTrudywhoisaboutasinterestingasa

stickofgumisengagedtobewed.

“Really,” Sophia confirms. “Guess she’s been seeing this guy for a long time, but they met on the

Internet.It’sactuallyreallycute,theywereonaStarWarsforumtogether.”

“Huh.”Ihavenowords.Iamsuchabitch.HereIamjudgingTrudyandherabilitytofindlove.
Maybeithasnothingtodowithbeingresponsibleorsensible.Maybefallinginlovehastodowith

beingopen.Available.Findingsomeoneyoucanconnectwith,someonewhoconnectswithyou.

Someonewhowantstoconnectwithyou.
“That’swonderful,”Ifinallymanage.“Whenaretheygettingmarried?”
“Intwoweeks,”Sophiagushes.“Bananas,right?Apparently,AuntLindaishavingafitoverit,butI

think it’s actually kind of sweet. They’re going to a Star Wars convention in Dallas and are getting
marriedthere.Infullcostume.”

“Wow,they’relike,allin.”
“Allin,andapparentlytotallyinlove.GoonFacebookandyou’llseethephotosoftheirengagement.

TheguyflewinfromNevada,dressedupasChewbacca.Imean,IknowTaylorandIareaboutasvanilla
asitcomes,andIknowitmightcomeasasurpriseaboutmethatIthinkthisis,like,totallyadorable,butI
do.”

“Iguessbeingengagedhasmadeyouaromantic?”Itease.
“Maybe,ormaybeIjustwanteverybodytobereallyhappy.I’msohappyrightnow,andTrudyisso

happy,andIguessthat’swhyI’mcalling.Iwantyoutobehappytoo.IknowIgaveyouahardtimeatthe
partyforcominglate,whichIknow—youweren’tevenlate.Iwasjuststressedandtookitoutonyou.”

Ibrushoffherapology,butappreciatethesentiment.“Thanks,Sophia.Nohardfeelings.”
Ifeellikemysisterissqueezingmyshouldersasshepullsmeintoahug.“Then,maybeyoushould

stoplookingforguysinthesameplacesyoualwaysdo,Ava.Maybeyoushouldstartthinkingoutsidethe
box,likeTrudy.Maybethenyou’llfindsomeoneyoucanbehappywith.”

Iswallow,tryingtonotgetemotionalovermysister’scomments.It’ssweet,Imeanreallysweet.
Also,reallydepressing.
MaybeI’vebeendoingeverythingcompletelywrong.Forever.
Ilookatmycomputer,seetheemailfromHeartofGold.
Whatareyourdeepestdesires?
Maybefindingloveisallabouttakingrisks.
IendthecallwithSophiaandclickonnewmessage.
Icantakearisk.
Rightthissecond.

CHAPTERNINE

ROM

:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Mydeepestdesire?

Toloveandbeloved.
Bysomeonebesidesmypizzadeliveryman.
Oh, and the barista I always tip very well even though he never makes my salted caramel mocha

correctly.

You?

AG.

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

Thereseemtobealotofmeninyourlife.

ShouldIbeintimidated?

HOG

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Avoidingmyquestion?

Andyes.Ididn’tevenmentiontheFedExdude.Ihaveathingforonlineshopping.Andyou?Doyou

haveafavoriteonlinestore?

Tellmeaboutthewomeninyourlife...

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

1)myhousekeeperEsme

2)myassistantLinda
3)you?

HOG

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

SeemsalittleprematuretosayIaminyourlife.Butweareconfirmingyouareamanthen,correct?

Also,youaren’tplayingfair.Deepestdesire?

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

YouareinmylifeconsideringIdreamaboutyoueveryday.Everynight.

Andyes,Iamaman.
AndIknowquitewellthatyouareawoman.
Deepestdesire?
Tostopbeingsodamnscaredoflove.Oflosinglove.
Yourturn.Askmeanything.
Andno,Idon’thaveafavoriteonlinestore.

HOG

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

SometimesIwonderifyouaremypizzadeliveryguy.Or,like,myneighbor.

Iwanttoknowwhoyouare.I’mscaredIammakingyoutobesomeoneyouaren’t.
ButwhatifyouareexactlywhoIimagineyouare?
That’snotmyquestionthough.
Myquestionisthis:
Favoritechildhoodmemoryandwhy?

P.S.I’mnotscaredoflosinglove...I’mscaredofneverfindingit.
P.S.S.MyfavoriteonlinestoreisAmazon.Theyselleverything.Igotapackagetodaywithdeodorant

ANDgranolabars.Magic,Itellyou.

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

WhenIwaselevenyearsoldmydadtookmybrotherandIonafishingtripinthefarNorthofAlaska.At
night,theskyheldathousandstars.Mydadknewalltheconstellationsandhenevergottiredoftellingme
theirnames,pointingthemouttome.Cassiopeia.UrsaMajor.Orion’sBelt.

TheworldfeltinfiniteandIfeltsosmallandwhenItoldmydadthat,hesmiledandtoldmenomatter

howbigIgrew,I’dalwaysfeelsmallwhenIlookedatthesky.Andthatfeelingsmallwasn’ttheworst
thing in the world to feel. That feeling small meant you were big enough to see that the world didn’t
revolvearoundyou.

Hewasagoodman.

HOG

P.S.IorderedafewthingsfromAmazontoday.Atoothbrushandleafblower.Itriedtofindthetwo

mostrandomthingsIcouldimagine.DidIdookay?

P.S.S.Favoritemovieandwhy?

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Incollege,Imemorizedtheconstellations.Theprofessortaughtushowtonavigatethenightskyandevery
timeIfoundone,mystomachflip-flopped,wonderingwhyIevenhadtherighttounderstandthesky.Who
wasItoreadthestars?

Yourdad’swordswerewise.
Favoritemovie?Easy.
Titanic.Isawitinthetheatertwelvetimesandsobbed.Every.Single.Time.ThenI’dcomehome,my

cheeksstreakedwithtears,andmysisterwouldlookatmeasifIwereinsane.

She’d say, “It’s like you think the ending is going to change. But Kate is always going to let go.

Leonardo'salwaysgoingtodie.”

Shedidn’tunderstand—andstill,doesn’t–thatitwasn’tabouttheending.Itwasaboutthejourney.The

endonlyhurtbecausethestorywassobeautiful.

IfKateandLeoneverfellinlove,wouldanyonehavecried?
Imean,sure,aship’ssinkingissad,butsoisallofhistory.Abattlelost,acountrybesieged.ButI

don’tcollapseintearsoverhistorybooksrecountingtheRevolutionaryWar.

Yetwhentheiceberghits—Iamlostatsea,myfacecoveredinaflurryoftears.Ifighttocatchmy

breathbutIcan’tbreathe.

It’sthelovestory,thefight,thedream.Thelongingformorethanwhatyouhave.
That’swhatgetsme.
Maybeitallgoesbacktomydeepestdesire.Toloveandbeloved.
Also,though,I’dliketobeseen.
Speakingof...whoareyou,HeartofGold?I’mbecomingabitbesotted.

CHAPTERTEN

I’

BECOMING

BIT

BESOTTED

?WhodoIthinkIam?JanefreakingAustin?

I blink, determined to be present. To stop dreaming of an email exchange with a stranger. A literal

stranger.

It’sbananas.Butalso,intoxicating.
The emails have been coming every few days for a month and I’m giddy every morning with the

prospectofcheckingmyinbox.

And last night, when I told him I was besotted it was not an exaggeration. I’m falling for an email

address.Whatdoesthatsayaboutme?

Right now, I don’t care. I spend the better part of the night touching myself, thinking of him for the

thousandthtime.OfHOG’shandsonmyass,whisperinggentlewordsandsoftstrokesashefillsmeup
withhiscock—becauseofcourse,thisinternet-manhasabigcock.Thebiggestcock,anditisacockthat
fillsme.

MuchlikeSamson’shad.ItfillsmelikeSamsonfilledme,andfucksmelikeSamsonfuckedme.My

pussywhimpersinreleaseandthenIaskformore.

It’shot.Allofit.Ican’tgetenoughofit.Iwantmore.Everything.
Him.
HOG.
When I fake-fuck him he looks like Samson, the man who had me and left me. Samson was

unavailable and detached, but HOG... he is committed and all in and writes me nearly every day and I
writehimback,whichiswhynowIampressingmythumbtomyclit,rubbinginsmallcircles,harderand
harderuntilIcomewithafloodallovermyfingers.It’sstillnotenough.

I’mhornyandhot.
Thealarmonmyphonewakesmefrommyearlymorningfantasy.Dammit.AllIwanttodotodayis

sit in bed and compose emails to my internet not-quite-lover, but I can’t. Sophia’s final gown fitting is
todayandasthemaidofhonor,Ineedtobethere.

Thebridalboutiqueisbeautiful.TheshopkeeperhandschampagnetoSophia,herothertwobridesmaids,
andmewhilewewaitforsomeonetobringoutSophia’sgownandourdresses.Mom’sheretoo,butshe’s
inanotherareaoftheshop,herdressisbeingmeasuredaswespeak,andshe'spayingforthepurchases.

“So, what are you up to these days, Ava?” Cecily asks. Cecily is Sophia’s oldest childhood friend.

HerquestionisridiculousbecauseIknowthatsheknowsI’mnotdatinganybody,mostlybecauseshegets
allhergossipfromSophia.

Cecilyiswearingheelsandslacksand,isshewearingpantyhose?InsteadofansweringherquestionI

try and get a look closer at the exposed top of her foot, but then I realize I’m looking little creepy so I
meethereyesandsmilewithfeignedinterest.

“What’s new? With me? Not much, just enjoying my freedom.” I tell her, shrugging, wanting her to

thinkthatherlife—beingmarriedwithatoddler—isn’tsomethingIenvy.Maybethatistotallypettyof
me, to not give her the satisfaction of knowing despite her pantyhose, her life looks damn good from
whereI’msitting.“I’mbusywithmybusiness.I’mworkingonalotofcustompiecesrightnow.Ilikethis
workmorethanthelineIdesignedfortheWestwoodGalleryinthefall.”

“Oh, so your shop is taking off, then? You’re able to do this hobby full-time?” This condescending

line is from Sophia’s newer friend Janet. Janet and Sophia are tennis partners. And they’re hosting this
amazinggalainthespring.Atennisgala.Becausethatisapparentlyathing.

I’mtryingtonotrollmyeyesatJanet,butobviously,I’mdoingapoorjobofitbecauseSophiarests

herhandonmyarm.

“Don’ttakeitsopersonally.Janetisjustbeingabrat.”
ThereareafewthingsIreally,reallyhateinthisworld.Oneofthemiswhenpeopletellmetonot

takesomethingsopersonally.WhythefuckwouldInottakeapersonalcommentpersonally.

“Whatever.”Usually,shruggingismydefensemechanismbutrightnowIdon’thavetheurgetoshrug.

MaybeI’mnotfeelingdefensive.MaybeI’mfeelingactuallyprettybadass.Lookingatthesewomen—all
threeofthem,Iknowinmygutthattheyhavenoreasontojudgeme.

Justbecausetheyhavegiganticdiamondringsontheirringfingers,designereverythingandhusbands

and fiancés and toddlers and McMansions in the suburbs of Denver and impressive tennis swings and
destinationsweddingsdoesn’tmeantheyaresuperiortome.

Ihaveathrivingbusiness.Ihavemyowncondo.IpaymyownbillsandboughtaMini-Cooperlast

yearonmyown,andI’mproudofwhoIam.

JustasI’mabouttojumpintoanotherinnermonologueabouthowawesomeIam,Sophiagaspsatthe

sightofherweddinggown.Idon’tblameher.Ittakesmybreathawaytoo..

“Oh my God, Sophia, it’s so beautiful,” Cecily coos. It’s true, Sophia’s gown is exquisite. It’s

straplesswithafullskirtinwhitesatin.Itlooksmadeforawinterwedding,inthesnowinWhistler.The
skirtisedgedinfur,thetrainhasamillionsparklingcrystalssewnon,creatingaglitteringsnowscapeon
white.Iwaswithherwhenshefirstpickeditout,butsincethen,thetrimhasbeenaddedandthecrystals
tripled.It’smadeforanicequeen.

“It’s more beautiful than I remembered.” Sophia covers her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. The

attendantwhisksherawaytothedressingroomtogetherintohergown.

“Ijustlovethatthey’rehavingadestinationwedding,”Janetsays.
“Oh,metoo,it’sgoingtobesomuchfun.Butfirst,we’vegottofinalizethebacheloretteparty.It’s

comingupsoon.Andwiththeholidaysit’sgonnabesuperbusy.Whatdoyouthink?”

JanetandCecilylaunchintobachelorettepartyplans—apartybus,adozeninvitees,amalestripper.

Classic,andalso,it’sobvioustheyhaveahandleontheevent.

Theyarerightthatit’sabusytimeoftheyear.It’sjustafewweeksuntilChristmas,aweekafterthat

isNewYear’s,andthenthebachelorettepartywillbeafewweeksafterthat.

Nextthingyouknow,itwillbeValentine’sDayweekendandwe’llallbeinWhistler.
I feel like the wedding is speeding up time, but also, the emails I’ve been exchanging with

HeartofGoldhavebeenspeedinguptime,too.

It’sstrangehowsomeoneIdon’treallyknow,hasfoundawaytogettotheheartofthingswithme.
I’ve never dated someone who wanted to know my deepest feelings and my fears. I’ve never been

withamanwhowantedmetotellhimmoreaboutmyself.Whoasksquestions.Andmakesmelaughand
bringtearstomyeyeswithhisreflections.

Andmaybethatisanembarrassingtragedy.ThatI’veneverhadarelationshipbuiltonmutualrespect

andunderstanding.Idon’tknowwhatthatsaysaboutme,probablynothinggood.

Butthat’sokay,Ithink.BecauseIdon’tneedalistofrelationshipsthatendedinhappilyeverafter.I

justneedone.

Mysisterwalksfromthedressingroomlookingradiantandglowing.Everyonesmiles,tellingherit

fitslikeaglove.

“Okay,youladieshavedressestotryontoo,”theattendanttellsusbeforeusheringusoutofthesitting

room.

Ichangequickly,andwhenIfastentheeyehookontheside,Itakeitallin.Thankfullythedressisvery

flattering.Althoughmodest,it’stheperfectdressforaValentine’sDaywedding.A-linewithcapsleeves,
asweetheartneckline,inredsatin.Istepoutandraisemyarms.“Ta-da!”

“It’ssooocute,”Sophiasays,drawingoutherwords.
Mom walks into the room in her mother-of-the-bride dress in soft gray. It looks very posh, but she

isn’tthinkingaboutherselfrightnow.Shecovershermouth,overwhelmedwithemotionwhenshesees
herdaughterstandingthereinwhite.

“Youlookbreathtaking,Sophia,”Momsaysasshewalkstowardus,reachingforeachofourhands

andpullingusintoahug.It’sasweetandtendermoment,anditmakesmeexcitedtohaveoneoftheseof
myowninthefuture.Oneday.

“So,”Sophiastarts,“haveyoumadeanyheadwayonadateforthewedding?”
Mom’seyesareonme.“Haveyou,darling?”
“No,Imean,let’snotmakeabigdealofthis,okay?Idon’tthinkIreallyneedadate.Theholidaysare

going to be so busy, and it’s not like someone is going to want to meet me and then be a date to a
destination wedding a few weeks later. It’s just too much pressure. Can’t you just sit me with someone
elsewhoisflyingsoloatthewedding.”?

Theattendantisback,tellingmymomthatshecangochangeoutofherdressnow,andthenmysister

andIareleftaloneagain.

“There’s only one other person playing solo at the wedding,” Sophia tells me, smiling at her

bridesmaidswhoarenowstandingatthemirrorwithus,examininghowtheylookintheirreddresses.

“Andwho’sthat?”
Sophiarollshereyes.“Samson,Taylor’sbrother.”Mystomachdoesaflip-flopatthementionofhis

name. I remember how this morning I touched myself, imagining his strong hands holding me, his body
coveringme—takingme.

“Great,sitmenexttoSam.Honestly,Idon’tcare.Iwanttobefocusedonyouthatday.”
Sophiasmirks.“Noway...alittlebirdietoldmeyoutwohadathing...”
Iblink.
“Seriously?”Cecily’seyesareasbigassaucers;Janetleanscloser,eagerforbitsofgossip.God,the

pairofthemarelikestarveddogsdesperateforamorselofanything.

“DidyouseriouslysleepwithTaylor’sbrother?”Janetasks.“Attheengagementparty,heseemedlike

thesortofmananydecentwomanwouldavoid.IfyouknowwhatImean.”Shestandswithherhandson
herhipsandIcan’thelpit,IrollmyeyeslikeI’matwelve-year-oldgirlbecausearetheyseriouswith
this?

“It’snoneofmybusiness,”Sophialaughs.“ButTaylormentionedit,andIwaslike,nowayarethey

hookingupagainatthewedding.Youaresittingfar,farawayfromhim.”

ItrytoimagineSamsontellingTaylorthatthetwoofushadspentthenighttogether.It’simpossibleto

imagine,itseemssounlikehim.Hecameoffasstoicandguarded,butitjustgivesmeanotherreasonto
dismisstheruggedlyhotmanfrommymind.

Samsondoesn’tmatter.Especiallyifhe’saguywhokissesandtells.

Now,HeartofGold?Heisarealman.
“Youknowwhat?”Isigh.“Fine,keepusfarapart,buthonestly,IamnoteventhinkingaboutSam.My

mindisonotherthings.”

Mysisterpursesherlips.“Whataren’tyousaying?”
Thisistheproblemwithsisters.Theyknowyoutoowell.
“Isortofmetsomeone.ButIdon’tknowwhereit’sgoing,soI’mtryingtoplayitcool.I’mcertainly

notinvitingthispersontoyourwedding,butIwantyoutoknowthatI’mtotallyoverSamson.”

Weallheadbacktothedressingroomssowecanchange.Talkingthroughthewallsoftheroomsmy

sistersasks,“Sowheredidyoumeetthismysteryman?”

I swallow, stepping out of the red satin and pulling on LuLaRoe leggings. They are patterned with

peacocksandmakemefeelcuteashell.

“Um,online?”
“Really?”Sophiasighs.“You’vedonetheonlinedatingthingbeforeanditneverworks.Theguysyou

dateneverenduplookingliketheirprofileandyougetannoyedandyettheystillgetlaid.It’snotgonna
endwell.”

IslideonmyUggs,notwantingtosayIhavenocluewhatHOGlookslike,wherehelives,andhow

heknowsme.

Ijustknowhowhiswordsmakemefeel.Seen.
“Well,wehaven’tactuallyexchangedphotos.So,IguessIwon’tbedisappointedwhenIseehim.”I

stepoutofthedressingroomthesametimeJanet,CecilyandSophiado.

Theyallcocktheirheadsatmeinconcern.
“Wait,isn’tthatlikearequirementonthoseonlinesites?”Cecilyasks.Cecilymetherhusbandonline

andshe’sright.Thatisarequirement.

“Wedidn’tactuallymeetonlineonadatingsite.Imean,hejustemailedmeoutoftheblue.Andwe

startedtalking.”

“Howdidheknowtoemailyou?”Sophiapresses.
NotfeelinglikeIhaveanythingtohide,I’mstraightup.Iamnotinthehabitoflyingtomysister,and

I’mnotgoingtostartnow.Besides,Ihavenothingtobeashamedof.Ineededtotryadifferentapproach
tomylife,bemoreopenmindedandaccepting.

So,IamchoosingtobeacceptingofHOG.
AndIhopesometimesoonhewillbebraveenoughtorevealwhohereallyis.
Andifhe’sthepizzadeliveryguy,sobeit.Heartsdon’tlie...andrightnow,mineisburningstrong.
“Hesayshemetmebefore,butIdon’tknowhisname.”AsI’mexplainingthelastpartMomrejoins

us,andSophiaquicklygetsheruptospeed.

“Oh,Ava,darling,you’refallinginlovewithastranger?”sheasks,hereyesfullofpity.
“Love?”Ishakemyhead.“We’rejustfriends,justgettingtoknowoneanother.”
That’swhatItellthem,butdeepdownIfeellikemyheartisknitwithhisinwaysIwouldneverhave

guessed.Iwakeupwantingtoseeifhehasemailed,Igotosleepwithhissweetwordsonmylips.

Sophiafrowns.“Youalwaysdothis,AvaGrace.”
“Dowhat?”
“Gofortheleastavailable,mostdetachedmanpossible.Samsonwasalowpoint,butthisstranger

who,forallyouknow,isaninety-five-year-oldmaninDaytona?Thisisreallysad.”

“He’s not living in Daytona. I don’t know anyone who lives in Daytona. I've never even been to

Daytona. I mean I did go there once but that was just because I got lost on my way back from a 'Love
Yourself, You Deserve It' seminar, and I stopped off to have waffles because, well, you know—I
deservedthem.Wait,whyarewetalkingaboutDaytona?”

SophialooksatmeasifIampatheticandjustplainoldcrazy.“Maybeyoushouldfindoutwhothis

personisbeforeyoustartmakinglifedecisionsbasedonhim.”

Iswallow,feelinghersharpreprimandandknowingsheisexactlyright.
Also,suddenlydyingforawaffle.

CHAPTERELEVEN

ROM

:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Wanttoexchangephotos?

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

Howaboutweexchangesomeotherthingsfirst?ThereisstillsomuchIwanttoknowaboutyou.

Favoritesong?
Favoritefood?
Favoriteplace?
Favoriteperson?

I’mnottryingtobedifficult,butI’vebeenhurtbefore.Thistime,Iwanttogetthingsright.

HOG

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Igetthat.It’sjustnottotallyfair.YouknowwhoIam.

Still,I’llplaynice.MostlybecauseI’maniceperson,lol.
Favoritesong?Handsdown,JonBonJovi,LivingonaPrayer.Iwantthissongplayedatmywedding

onedayasIwalkdowntheaislewithmyhusband.SomemaythinkJBJischeesyAF—butIunabashedly
thinkhe’sthegreatest.Hemarriedhishighschoolsweetheartforgoodnesssakes!Andhe’slikefiftyand
canstillrockleatherpants.That’sdamncool.

Favorite food? My grandpa Bill’s chili. He died about five years ago, but he made award-winning

chili.Ihavehisrecipeandmakeiteveryyearonhisbirthday.ButifIweretogoouttoeatinDenver,my
favoriteplaceisanItalianrestaurantcalled,LittleMiaMia.

Favorite place? This might sound seriously weird... but I love ice-skating. Sometimes I go on a

weekday morning when the rink is empty, and I skate for an hour, probably embarrassingly bad—but I
don’tcare.Ifeellikeaniceprincess,makingcirclesandfigureeights.Also,it’saworkout.So,there’s
that.

Favoriteperson?Whileyou’reinchingupmylist,GrandpaBillhasaspecialplaceinmyheart—he

believed in me in ways no one else ever has. He was the person who taught me how to make my first
pieceofjewelry.

We’dgotohisshopandhetaughtmehowtouseasolderingtool.Inhiswill,heleftmeenoughmoney

tostartmybusiness.Hewasawidowerformostofmylife,andInevermetmygrandma,buthislovefor
metaughtmethatwhatreallovemeans.Whenhedied,hewasburiedwearingoneofmyrings.

So,youmustanswerthosequestionstoo,andthenanswertheseforme:
WhatareyoudoingforChristmas?(It’sinafewdaysyouknow.)
Whatisyouraddress?(IwanttosendyouyourChristmasgift.)
DoyouhaveplansforNewYear’sEve?Idon’t.Wecouldmeetwhentheballdrops...

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

It’sChristmasEveandIhaven’theardfromyouindays.DidIdosomethingwrong?

Maybe asking for your address is too personal, but telling you all about my hopes and dreams is

personaltoo.

HopeyouhaveagoodChristmas.

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

Well.It’sNYE.Youhaven’twrittenmefortwoweeks.

Iknowwedon’toweoneanotheranything,butIdon’tunderstandyou.Mysistertoldmetoblockyour

emailbecauseIopeneduptoyouandthenyoujustdroppedme.Andthetruthis,ithurts.Alot.People
alwayssayIwearmyheartonmysleeve,andIalwayschosetotakeitasacompliment.ButnowIjust
feellikeafool.

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

AG,

SorryIdidn’twriteforsolong.Ididn’tintendtohurtyou.Youarenotafool.Youarefunnyandtender
andtoofuckinggoodforme.

IshouldadmitIdidn’tknowwhattosaywhenyouaskedformyaddress.Iwasn’treadytogothere

yet.

AndI’mstillnot.
ButIdon’twanttoloseyou.Canwetryagain,backinguptoaplacethatdoesn’tmakemerun?
Favorite song? Let It Be by The Beatles. Speaking of people, we’ve loved and lost: my mom died

whenIwasyoung.Shesangthatsongwhenshewashedthedishes,sweptthefloor,choppedvegetables
fordinner.Itwashermantra.IwishIcouldmakeitmyown,butIamnowherenearaseasygoingasshe
was.Mythoughtsgetthebestofme.It’snearimpossibletoturnoffthenoise.ThatissomethingIadmire

inyou.Youcomeacrossassomeonewhoisalwayspresent.

Favorite food? Hands down, my homemade mac and cheese. It’s the one thing I can cook and cook

well.Comfortfoodatitsfinest.

Favoriteplace?Themountains.Noquestion.
Favoriteperson?You.Theonlyproblemis,IknowImayhavefuckedthingsupbeyondrepair.
HaveI?
Iwishwe’dbeentogetherwhentheballdroppedatmidnightonNYE.Iwouldhavekissedyou.

HOG

From:avagracewentworth

To:heartofgold

HOG,

I’mnotgoingtolie.Seeingyourreplyinmyinboxgavemebutterflies.IwantedtokissyouonNYEtoo,
butIshouldbehonest,Ialwaysgoforunavailablemen.Menwhorefusetocommit.Tome.

I’mnotdoingthatanymore.
Thingsareoverbetweenus.
Ineedamanwhounderstandsthatmyheartisfragile.Thatithasbeenbrokensomanytimesbefore.
Igettheimpressionthatthisisagametoyou.
Butit’smorethanagametome.
It’smylife,andI’msorry,butyoucannolongerbeinit.

AvaGrace

CHAPTERTWELVE

HEN

RECEIVE

thefinalemail,IknowI’vefuckedthingsup.Badly.

Istartedtalkingtoherthroughemailsoshecouldlearntotrustme...butnowshe’sjustgoingtobe

pissed.She’llbeangrythatIplayedherforafool.ThatIsleptwithher,andlefther,andthendecidedto
pretendIwassomeoneelsetogettoher.

ExceptI’mnotpretending.WhenIwritetoher,thepersonIpresentisthepersonItrulyam.
IthoughtifIwentcoldturkey,letherhaveherholidaystoherself,maybeIwouldgetoverherorshe

wouldgetoverme.

Butdammit,allitdidwascausemetosleeplikeshitfortwoweeksstraight,andwishIwereina

placetocommittoher.Forever.

BecausethatiswhatAvaGracedeserves.
Andnowtheemailsareover.
IfIwriteheragain,I’mgoingtoneedtotellherthetruth.AndifItellherthetruththenshe’llnever

seemeassomeoneshecantrust.

Newgameplan:WhenI’mintownfortheBachelorparty,Iwillwinherover.
Andjusthopesheisn’tstillheartbrokenoverHeartofGoldandhasspaceinherheartforme.

ThepartyiseverythingIhate.Loudshittymusic,doucheyguysincollaredshirtsandtiesgyratingagainst
half dressed women, shots of crappy liquor—fucking kamikazes and buttery nipples—being passed
around. And strippers that look like they need to go home and have a warm glass of milk and bedtime
story.

“Thisisepic,”Taylorshoutsoverthepopmusicblaringatthedanceclubpoststriptease.“Youguys

fuckingrock!”Taylor’stieiswrappedaroundhisforehead,hisshirtsleevesarerolledup,arumandcoke
inhandashejumpstothemusic.

Hisbuddiesallgivehimfistbumps,hoveringandgrindingagainstthewomenonthedancefloor.
I grin at my kid brother, thinking that if anyone dared throw me a party like this I’d just straight-up

leave.Sure,Ihatethisvibe—butIlovehim.Butstayingdoesn’trequiremetostayonthedancefloor.

Imovetothebar,orderawhiskeyneat,andtakeadrink,lookaroundtheclub,shakingmyheadatthe

anticsthataresofarfrommyday-to-daylife.

Scanningtheroom,Idoadoubletake.Apartyhasjustarrived.Awomaninallwhite,atinywhite

mini-dress,aveilonherhead,asashacrossherbodyreadingBRIDE.Sophiaishere.

Andsoisherentireparty.
Agroupofwomenintinydresses,bighair,sloppydrunk,andsmilingear-to-earleadhertothedance

floor.Iwatchtheherdcrosstheroom,alleyesonthem,andthenIseeTaylorrealizehisbride-to-beis
here. A loud drunk laugh that tells me everyone is having fun erupts as the two parties merge into one
wild,dancingmob.

Ilaugh,shakingmyheadasSophiawrapsherdrunkenarmsaroundTaylorandgiveshimakiss.
Behindme,Ihearsomeonesay,“Cute,right?”
Iknowthatvoice.Iturntofaceher,AvaGrace.Hereyeslookheavyasshetakesmein.Iswallowher

up.Sheisinheels,showingoffheramazingcalves,shewearsasparklydress,shinyandgoldjustlikeher
laugh. Her breasts are pressed together, drawing the eye of every man in the room, her curvy hips are
accentuatedbytheform-fittingdress,remindingeveryonethatsheisawoman,asiftherewereanydoubt.
Shelookslikepixiedust.Magic.

“Lookatyou,”Isayslowly,myheartpoundinginmychest.IfeellikeIknowthisgirlinsideandout,

andallIwanttodothisweekendisfindthetimetolayitalloutforher.Tellherthetruth.ThatIamthe
manshehasfallenfor.

“Lookatyou,”shesays,browraised.“So,doyouwantthespeechnow,orlater?”sheasks.
Mybrowsfurrow.Speech?DoessheknowwhoIam?
“Uh,now,”Itellher.
She folds her arms. And then unfolds them. Raises a finger, pointing at me. Fiery and sassy and so

damncute.

“Idon’tappreciatethewayyoutoldyourbrotheraboutournighttogether.Nowmysisterknows,and

theentireweddingpartyknows.We’readultshere.Whatkindofdudetellstheirbrotherabouttheirhook-
ups?”

Myeyeswideninsurprise.Iwasnotexpectingthis.“TellTaylorwhat?”I’mtryingtocatchup.
“Youtoldhimthatwespentthenighttogether.”Shecrossesherarms,fuming.Damn,Ithink,thisgirl

hasgotsomeammo.

I think back to the day I saw Taylor after my night with Ava Grace. Our talk at the coffee shop. “It

wasn’t like that. He asked where I stayed the night, it came up.” I watch Ava’s eyes consider me with
skepticism.“Ididn’tgivehimdetailsifthat’swhatyouarewondering.”

Ava drops her arms as if she believes me, just like that. She sits down at the bar ordering a vodka

soda,andIswivelmybarstoolbesideher.“Honest?”sheasks.

“Honest.ThelastthingIfuckingwanttodoisscrewanythingupforanyonehere.Iwantmybrotherto

behappy,hedeservessomehappiness.”

“Ohyeah?”Avasmirks.“SeemslikeTaylorhasaprettycushylife,doeshereallyneedyoulooking

afterhim?”

“Maybenot.Buthe’sstillmylittlebrother.Andlifewashardwhenwewereyoung.Ourparentsdied,

andshit,wewereinfosterhomesandstayedwithrelativesforabit,butIhavealwaysbeenhisfamily.”

“That’saprettyheavyconfessionforaclubcalledStudio69.”Avasmilesatme,warmly.
Ishakemyhead.“Mybad.Sorry.”
“I’msorrythatyourparentsdied.”Avasipsherdrink,thensurprisesme.“AguyIrecentlydatedtold

mehismomdiedwhenhewasyoungtoo,itjustbreaksmyhearttothinkofanyonelosingtheirparents
whentheyareyoung.Itjustreallyputsthingsintoperspective.”

Iraiseaglass,unabletospeak,knowingsheistalkingaboutme;aboutHeartofGold.
Sheclinksherglasswithmine.“Tocherishingeverymoment.”
“Everymoment,”Irepeat.
She laughs, shaking her head. “Sorry about getting so pissed over Taylor. Maybe it was more me

beinghurtknowingthatafterwehadanamazingnightitwasenoughforyou.”

“Itwasn’tenoughforme.”I’mtryingtofigureouthowtoexplaintheHOGsituation,butbeforeIcan,

SophiaandTaylorcrashintous.

“Ohmigod,youguysaresofreakin’cute!”Sophiasqueals.“Areyougonnahookupagain?Because

youhaveto,Samson.Sheneedssomefunsobad.”

Avaslapshersister’sarm.“Shush,”shewhisper-yells.
“What?” Sophia slurs, clearly smashed. She would never be so enthusiastic about me having a

potentialflingwithAvaGraceotherwise.Taylor’sarmissnakedaroundherwaistandshewagsafinger
atme.“Mypoorsishashadtheworstweek.Shewasinlovewithamanandthenhedumpedher.Splat.
Kablooey.Bangbangbang.Exceptnot.Theyneverbanged,didyousweetie?”shesaystoAva.“Never
bangedonce,andwhatisworse—shedoesn’tevenknowhim.”

IlookoveratAva,hereyesarefilledwithtears.“Stopit,Sophia,please.”
“Ididn’tmeantomakeyoucry,”Sophiadrunkenlymoans.“Taylorfixsomething.Imesseditup.”
“I’ll help by pulling you away from this situation,” Taylor says, and Sophia acquiesces. She blows

kissestoAva,whosmilesbackbleakly.

“Well,thatwasawkward.”
“Whatwas?Yourdrunksister?OrtherealitythatsheandTayloraremakingouttwentyfeetaway?”
Avawavesherhandintheair.“No,thatyouheardallthat.Theentirepathetictruth.”
“Whatispatheticaboutit?”
Shelaughssharply.“WhatispatheticisthatIfell,onceagain,foramanwhoisunavailable.Itrusted

himtoo,youknowthat?Itrustedastrangerandhebrokemyheart.IfIeverseehim,youknowwhatI’ll
do?”sheasksme.

“What?”Iask.“Whatwillyoudo?”
“I’llpunchhiminthefaceandkickhimintheballs.It’sashittythingtowinagirloveronlytowalk

away.”

Irunmyhandovermybeard.“Andwhatifthisguyapologized,cameclean,triedagain?”
AvaGracepicksuphervodka,shakingherhead.“Noway.Iamdonewithforgiving.Allitdoesis

leavemehurt.Therearenomoresecondchances.Hehadhischanceandheblewit.”

Iswallow,myentirefuckinggameplanisscrewed.
So,maybeIdon’ttellherthetruth.MaybeIjusttrytotakewhatI’velearnedoverthelastmonthand

remainopen.Notclosedup.MaybeItrytoearnherlove,butthistimewithoutanybarriers.

“DidIblowittoo?”Iask,smilingsoftlyatthiswomanwhoishonestandgenuineandincapableof

holdingback.

Shefrowns,herfacesofuckingsadinthatmomentandIwanttowrapmyarmsaroundherandhold

hercloseandtellhersheisperfect.ThatshemakesmelaughandthatBonJoviisterribletasteinmusic
butthatIdon’tcare,becausearen’twealljustlivingonaprayer?

“Myheartcan’thandleanothermantakingmeforgranted.”
“Thenletmetakeyouout,notforgranted—butonadate,”Itellher.
“Areyoujustlookingtogetinmypants,Samson?Because—”
“No,”Itellher,cuttingheroff.“Iamaskingyououtonadate.”

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

NIGHT

Samsonpicksmeup,atseveno’clockonthedot.

Iaskedmysistertogettheinsidescoopbeforethedate—obviously—andshefoundoutthatSamson

wasjusthereforonemorenight.

ShemademeswearthatIwouldn’tgetallcrazyforamanwhowasn’tavailable,andIcrossedmy

heart.

ButlastnightattheclubSamsonlookeddifferent,soundeddifferenttoothanIremember.Likehewas

morepresent,moregenuinelyinterested.Idon’tknowmuchabouthim,butIguesstonightIamgoingto
findout.

“Wow,”hesays,walkinginmycondowithadozenpinkroseswrappedinbrownpaper,tiedwitha

whitegrosgrainribbon.Basically,themostperfectbouquetevermade.“Youlookbeautiful,AvaGrace.”

Tuckingaloosestrandofhairbehindmyear,Ihideasmile,feelingtheheatrisetomycheeks.
“Youcleanupprettyniceyourself.”Itaketheprofferedflowersfromhishands,drinkinghiminasI

do.Heisindarkdenimandaflannelshirt,butit’sslimfitting,tightonhisbiceps,androlledupatthe
sleeves.Helooksfreakin',insanelyhot.Hishairisslickedbackeffortlessly,andhisbeardtauntsme,-
makingmyovariesexplodeasIimagineitbetweenmylegslikeitwasbefore.

LikeIhavedreamedaboutsomanytimessince.
“Imadereservations,”hetellsmeasIfillthevasewithwater,addingtheroses.
“Ohyeah?Where?I’mstarving.”
Hesmilesatthat,andthenanswers.“AnItalianrestaurant,LittleMiaMia,Ihearit’sfantastic.”
“Ohh,that’smyfavoriterestaurant.You’regoingtoloveit.Doyoulikemeatballs?Theyhavethebest

meatballsever.”

Hegrins,asifunabletoresistjokinglikeathirteen-year-oldboy.“Youlikeballs,huh?”
Ismirk,grabbingmyjacket,gloves,andpurse.SamsonfollowsmetothedoorandIlockitbehindus.

“Oh,Iloveballs,Samson.Big,juicyballs.”

He laughs, deep in his belly, and opens the door of the rental car. “Good, because you can have as

manyballsasyoulike,sweetheart.”

Isquintmyeyes,lookingathimbeforeheclosesthedoor.Sweetheart?“IfIremembercorrectly,you

onlyhavetwo.WhatifIwantmore?”

Helaughsagain,“Guessyou’llhavetoordersomeextraoffthemenutotakehome.”
Onthedrivetotherestaurant,Ipointoutmystompinggrounds.“Thatshophasthebestcoffee,andthis

parkiswhereIplayUltimateFrisbeeinthesummer.ThoughI’mterribleatit.Butit’sstillfun.Oh,and
thatiswherethefarmersmarketisonSundays.”

“Youreallylikeithere,then?Couldyoueverimagineleaving?”

WepulluptoLittleMiaMiaandletthevalettakethecar.Sittingdownatthetable—acornerbooth,

white linens, candlelight—I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I’m not nervous or trying hard to be
somethingSamsonwilldeemattractiveorworthy.

With him, I feel like I can be myself, so I bask in the romantic ambiance of the restaurant, and tell

SamsonI’morderingforusboth

ThenIanswerhisquestion.“IloveDenver,Igrewuphereandmovedbackaftercollege,butI’mnot

soldontheideaofbeinghereforever.IguessI’mopentoanythingandthankfullymybusinessisportable.
Icanmakejewelryanywhereintheworld.”

“Sowhydon’tyoudothat?”heasks.“WhynotsetupshopinParisorPeru?”
AwaitercomesaroundandIorderourdinner:spaghettiandmeatballs,ofcourse,andabottleofred

wine.

“Itraveledgrowingup,andincollegeIdidafewsemestersabroad.Butthetruthis,I’mnotchasinga

dream.Ialreadyhaveit.AbusinessIlove,thatbringsjoytoeverycustomer.Honestly,Icouldn’taskfor
more.”

“Nothingmore?”
I sigh, “Well I’d love to be married, have children, but after everything that happened over the last

fewweeks,I’velearnedmoreaboutwhatIreallywant,whatIwanttoembrace.”

“Andwhat’sthat?”Samson’selbowsareonthetable,leaninginasifmywordsarepreciousandmust

beheard.

“I want to learn to just let it be. Let the cards fall as they may and not try to force my life down a

certainpath.Letitbe.”

“LetItBe,liketheBeatlessong?”
Inod,rememberingHeartofGold,imagininghismotherwashingthedishesorfoldingtheclothesand

repeatingthewordsofthesong,wordsthatmeantsomuchtohim.

Samson runs his hands over his beard as if considering saying something. But then the spaghetti is

servedandthemoodchanges.

“Thesearesomebigballs,”hesays,grinning.
“Yep.Someofthebiggest.”ItakeasipoftheMerlot,savoringthisunexpectedeveningwithSamson.

“So,tellmeaboutyou.YouknowwhereIlive,whatIdo,myfamily,mylifeplans.Whataboutyours?”

Hechoosesthatmomenttotakeabiteofpasta,andhiseyesdon’tmeetmine.Awesome,soweare

backtosquareone.I’monanotherdatewithamanwhoisnotintendingtoopenuptomeatall.

Butthenheuseshisnapkintowipehismouth,andheclearshisthroatandlooksmeintheeye.“It’s

reallyfuckinghardtotalkaboutmyself,sobepatient,AvaGrace.”

Itwistmylips,wantingtodefendmyself,butthenhecontinuestalkingandIstopandjusttrytolisten.
“YouknowTaylorandIlostourparentswhenwewereyoung,right?”
I nod, not knowing the all the details, but knowing Taylor was only seven years old, and that they

spenttheirchildhoodbeingshuffledaroundtodistantrelatives,andeventuallyendedupinfostercarefor
afewyears.

“Well,Iblamemyselfforalotofwhathappened.Theydiedinacarcrash,butitwasbecausethey

werecomingtopickmeupfromschool.Ihadgottenintrouble,wassuspended—again.Itwasjuniorhigh
and I was an asshole. But my dad, he left work, got my mom, and the two of them were headed to the
schooltotakecareofthemessI’dmade.Ontheway,theretheyhitsomeiceanddied.”Samsontightens
hisjaw,hisshoulderstense.

IblinkbackthetearsandreachacrossthetabletoSamson’shand.Hetakesmineinhis,hisskinsofter

thanIexpected,hisgriptightasifheneedstoholdontosomethingrightnow.Holdontome.

“Fuck,”hesays,shakinghishead.“I’venevertoldanyonethat.I’veblamedmyselfforyears,thinking

thatifI’dhadmyshittogether,Ineverwouldhaveruinedmyfamily.Foralongtime,Iwasonthestraight

andnarrow.DoingmybesttotakecareofmyselfandTaylor,butoncehewaseighteen,Iletlooseagain.
Let myself get in trouble one too many times, and that’s why I left. I skipped town needing to clear my
head,youknow?”

“Samson,itwasn’tyourfaulttheydied;itwasanaccident.”Irunmyfingersoverhisthumb,myheart

aching for him, understanding him better now that he’s shared this part of himself. “And after so many
yearsoftakingcareofTaylor,stillayoungmanyourself,ofcourse,youletlooseforawhile,younever
hadarealchancetosowyourwildoats.”

“EvenifIknowthatlogically,it’sstillhardtobelieve.EspeciallynowwithTaylorgettingmarried.

Hell,mymomwouldhavelovedtomeetSophia;tobehereforallthis.”

“Thatmakessense.Ibetdifferenttimesoftheyear,ingeneral,aremoredifficultthanothers.”
Samsonnods.“Theholidaysarealwaysashittytimeforme.IretreateverychanceIget.”
“Doyouthinkyou’llalwaysbethisway?Needtobealoneinthemountainstostaygrounded?”Itear

offapieceofbread,watchingSamsoncontemplatemyquestion.

“Ihopenot,AvaGrace.Idon’talwayswanttobealone.”Whenhelooksatmenow,it’sasifhe’s

speakingdirectlytomysoul.It’slikeheseesme,isechoingeverythinginsideofme.

“Whatdoyouwantthen,Samson?”Iask.
“I want a wife, a family. But I’ve always been my own worst enemy. I always push people away

becausewhatifIletsomeonein,reallyin,andthenIfuckitupandruinthings.Ruinthem?”Samsonis
chokingup;hiseyesfillwithtears.“That’swhathappenedwithmyparents.Ifuckedthingsupandthey
paidforit.”

Iwipeawaythetearsonmycheek,shakingmyhead.“No,Samson.That’snotthewayitworks.Your

past doesn’t define you, good or bad. Who you are right now, the man you choose to be today—that is
whatmatters.”

Helooksatme,blinkingbackhistears.“Iwanttobeagoodman,amanwhodoesn’trunwhenheis

scared.”

“Thendon’t.Beamanwhostays.”
Hetakesholdofmyhandagain.Thespaghetti’scold,thewinewarminourbellies,theheatbetween

usgrowing.

“Let’sgetoutofhere,”hetellsme.
Hedoesn’tneedtoaskmetwice.IwanttofollowwhereverSamsonleads.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

LEAD

AvaGracefromtherestaurant,knowingwhereI’mtakingher.ThevaletpullsourcararoundandI

drivehertothesecondhalfofourdate.Pullingintotheemptyparkinglot,Iparkthecar.

“Samson,”shesays,reachingformyarm.“Areweiceskating?”
Iconsider,rightthenandthere,tellingherthefulltruth,nothingbutthetruth,butIdon’twanttospoil

thisperfectnight.It’salreadybeensodamnheavy,sodamnhard.IopenedtoAvaGracelikeI’venever
openedtoanyoneinmylife.

Andrightnow,hereyesarebright,hersmilewide.I’mtakingthisgirlskating.
Besides,Ican’tbeartotellherwhoIreallyamandhaveherwalkawayontheheelsofmyadmission

over dinner. Right now, I want to hold on to the energy pulsing between us. She heard me explain my
biggestfear,deepestregret,andinsteadofwalkingout,sheheldmyhand.Shesawmyheart.

I’mnottheonewiththeheartofgold.AvaGraceis.
“You think you can beat me around the rink?” I ask, her hand slipping in mine as we walk to the

entrance.

“Oh, I know I can,” she says, laughing. “I’m not very good, but somehow when I lace up a pair of

skates,Ifeellimitless.”

“Youcan’tbeatafeelinglikethat.”
Wewalkintothelobby,it’sempty,thereisonlyonepersonintheentireplace.
“Whatsize?”themanatthecounterasks.Theopenskatehoursaretapedtothecounter.
“Eight,”shetellshim,thenlooksatme.“Whereiseveryone?”
Ishrug.“Imadeafewcalls.”
“Butit’sanopenskatenight.”
“Irentedtheplaceforus.”
“Samson.”Sheopenshermouthasifreadytoargue.“That’scrazysweetofyou.”
“Youdeservecrazysweet.”
Shejustlaughsandshakesherhead.“WhathappenedtotheassholeImetattheengagementparty?It’s

likesomethinghappenedtoyouandyoubecamesomeromanticsap.”

My chest tightens. I’m nervous as fuck to tell her the truth, but before the night is over, I’ll tell her

everything.

“Alotcanchangeinafewmonths.”
AfewminuteslaterAvaandIareontheemptyicerink.Theonlylightsinthemassiverinkarethe

onesontheice,andasweskate—memuchmoreawkwardlythanher—wearequiet.Myhandfindshers,
andshelacesherfingerswithmine.Everytimeherbodybrushesagainstmine,Imakenoteofhervanilla
shampooscentandtwinklinglaugh.EachtimeIstumble,shehelpssteadyme.

Weglide,handinhand,andlistentothemusicoverhead,amixofcheesyeightieshits,and…andI

feellikeIcouldspendtherestofmylifewithawomanlikeher.Shemakesmefeelgoodinmyownskin
andI’venevermetapersonwhomademefeelthatway.

I’msolostinthoughtabouthowIhavefallenforthiswoman—headoverheels—thatIliterallydo.I

falloverher.Wecrashtotheground,shefallsontheice,Ilandonmyass,shelaughsasshewincesandI
groanasIreachtohelpherup.EverytimeItrytostand,Ifallbackdown,andthenshecollapsesontop
ofme.

Theairiscold,ourbreathhot.She’sacrossmylap,andIpullhertome,herassinmyhands,herlips

onmymouth.I’msittingonice,butthiswomanmeltseverythinginsideofme.Everythingthathasbeen
coldandreservedandheldback...isthawed.

ThekissisbetterthanIremembered.MaybewhenIkissedherlast,itwasallhotandheavy,thethrill

ofthechaseandthehighofourinstantconnection.

Thistimethekissisdifferent.ThistimeIhavegottentoknowAvaGraceinawayI’veneverknown

anothersoul.Andsheknowsmetoo,evenifshedoesn’trealizeitherself.

Ourlipspart,hertonguefindsmine,andIrefusetolethergo.
“Ineedyou,AvaGrace.Ineedyounow,”Itellher.
Shestands,offeringmeherhand,andItakeit.Weglideofftheice,andshethrowsmealookoverher

shoulder,lettingmeknowsheneedsitjustasbad,beforeleadingmetoalockerroom.

“TheambianceisabitdifferentthanLittleMiaMia,”shesays,lookingaroundassheunbuttonsher

coat,tossingitonthefloorwithoutasecondthought.Thefluorescentlightsarebrightbutthemusicfills
theroom,echoing.ButIdon’tcarewhereIaminthismoment,solongasit’swithher.“It’scoldinhere,
too,”shesays,lookingathernipples,hardthroughherclothes.

“I’llwarmyouup,sweetheart,”Itellher,kissingherneck.
“Ibetyouwill,”shemurmurs,herfingersthreadingthroughmyhairasshewrapsherselfaroundme.I

kissheragain,thistimewithmoreheat,passion,anddesire.IneedherandIcan’twaitanylonger.

Weundressasifwehavenotimetolose.Andmaybewedon’t,maybeatsomepointwhenyouknow

it’s right, you can’t waste another second. Doing so would be a betrayal of what is true, what is good.
Whatisours.

She runs her hands over my bare chest as I pull off her dress. My mouth is on her breasts, pushing

downthelaceofherbra,lickinghernipplesandtastingherskin.

“Samson, I want to touch you. I need to touch you. I’ve been dreaming of you for so many nights...

Hopingandwishingyoutocomeback.”

Herwordsarelikehoney,sweetandpureandIfeelliketheluckiestbastardtoknowthattheyareher

truth.Sheunbucklesmybeltandmypantsfalltothefloor.Shereachesherhandaroundmygrowingcock
andIgroan,havinglongedforthismomentsincethedayIleftherapartment.

“You’resohard,”shesays,hermouthonmychest,kissingmyskinasifsheisasdesperateformeasI

amforher.

“Andyouhaven’teventouchedmymeatballs.”
She laughs, the laugh that is bright and beautiful. And then she cups my balls softly, tenderly. She

strokesmyshaftasifitisagenie’slampofferingherthreewishes.

Oh, I’ll fulfill her wishes all right. Her deepest desires and all her fantasies. If only she’ll let me.

Nowandforever.Iwillmakeherwishcometrue.

“Samson,” she moans as my fingers push aside the fabric of her panties, finding her wet pussy and

pressingagainstherclit.

“Youlikethat,sweetheart?YoulikeitwhenItouchyou?”Iask.Icupahandonhercheek;drawing

herlipstomineagainandIkissherasifovercomewithafever.Deliriouswithdesire.Iinhaleherscent,
ourbodieshot,theicefromminutesagoseemingsofaraway.

Ilifther,handsgrippingherass,herlegswrappingaroundmyhipsinstinctively.Herarmsaroundmy

neck,hertongueisinmyear—sheenvelopsme.ShecoversmeandIwanttofillher,too.

Ipressheragainstawall,thelightsinthelockerroombuzzingandbright,electricjustlikeweare.
“Iwanttofeelyouinme,”shewhispersinmyear,nibblingatmylobe.
“Good,becausethat’sallIwant,”Itellher,lettingherbodyopenuptome.Herpussystretchingasmy

cock fills up her tight little cunt. She inhales sharply as I take her. She’s so warm and with her body
pressedagainstmine,she’suninhibitedandopenandwilling.

Andsofuckinghot.
Hertitsareagainstmychestandherpussyiscreamyandready.ShemakesmesodamnhardandallI

want to do is to ram inside of her until she can’t think of anything besides my cock. My cock that was
madeforhersweet,sweetpussy.

Mycockisinher,thrustingdeepinsideofherasshetakesallofme.Herbodywasmadeformineand

soIletherknowhowhotshegetsme.Irockinsideofher,herpussywallstighteningagainstmylength
andshemoansinpleasureasshegrindsontopofmycock.HertitsbounceinmyfaceasImoveinsideof
her,harderandharderuntilsheisscreamingmyname.

Herheadfallsback,thelengthofhernecksuchafuckingturnon,hertitssoperkyandhernipplesso

hard.Ipoundintoher,wantinghernowandwantingherforever.

“OhGod,”shemoans,herfingernailspressingintomyshoulderblades.“Yes,yes,Samson,thatfeels

—”

Andthenshecan’tspeak,shecanonlymoan,whimperingmynameasIfillherwithmycome.Asan

orgasmrushesoverherlikeawaveshewasn’texpecting.Herarmsholdtightaroundmyneck,clingingto
me,andmyhandsholdherroundass,rockingagainsther.

“Holyshit,Ididn’tknowIcouldorgasmlikethat,”shepurrsoncewebothfinish,ourbodiessweaty

andhotandIwanttowashherupgoodandclean,andthenspreadherlegs,andlickhercuntlikeIdid
before.

Ihavesomanydreamsforus.IwanttoworshipherbodyandshowhermymountainandIwantto

watchherpeakasshefucksmeeverydamnday.

IlovethefactthatIgethersowetandgetheroff,andIkissheragain,thistimesoftandtender.This

time,Ikisshermouthandthenhercheeksandherchin.Ikisshernoseandherforeheadandherears.

“Whatwasthatfor?”sheasks,catchingherbreathasIsetherbackontheground.
“Youhavemeltedthiscold,hardmountainman,”Itellher.
Sheshakesherhead,laughingagain,andthetwoofusdressquickly.Onceassembled,withtherushof

emotionsstillsurgingbetweenus,Itakeherhandsandpullhertome.

“Ihavetotellyousomething,”Isay.
“What?Anotherjokeaboutyourballs?”
Ishakemyhead,takingadeepbreath,searchingforthecourageandstrengthtotellherwhatmustbe

said.TotellherwhatIknowmightchangeeverything.

“Whatisit?”Herfacefallsasifalreadypreparingherselffortheworst.
IwishIcoulddoeverythingoveragain,wishingIhadfoundanotherwayintoAvaGrace’sheart.
“I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you, Ava Grace. I only wanted to understand you. I

wanted to see if we could be something more than a one-night stand. When I left your place after the
engagementparty,Icouldn’tgetyououtofmymind.ButIalsoknewhowyou’dbeenhurtbefore,andhow
badIwasatlettingpeoplein.Ididn’tknowifIcoulddoit.So,Itriedsomethingdifferent.Something
I’veneverdonebefore.”

“What?” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Tonight, was such a perfect night. Such a

wonderfultime,Ifeelthingsforyou,thatI—”

“Wait,AvaGrace,that’snotit.There’smore.”

BeforeIcansayanotherword,thesongintheloudspeakerschange.
BonJovi,LivingonAPrayerblares.
AvaGrace’seyesmeetmine,andIwatchasthedotsconnectinhermind.Assheputstwoandtwo

together.TheItalianrestaurantandthefuckingice-skatingandthissongandmyinabilitytobetherefor
heroverChristmaswhenit’sthehardesttimeofyearforme.

“YouareHeartofGold?”
Inod.“Iam.”
Iexpecthertopullclosertome,ormaybethat’sjustwhatIwanttohappen.Butshedoesn’t.Shepulls

herhandsfrommine,stepsback.

“Itrustedyouandallthistimeyou'vebeenplayingmelikeafool?”
Ireachforher,butshe’salreadyflyingoutofthelockerroom.Ifollowher,shoutinghername.“Ava

Grace,stop,letme—”

Igoafterher,butshealreadyhasherphoneout,acaronitsway.
“Don’tgo,”Ibegher.“Letmeexplain,Iwasn’ttryingtotrickyou,Iwantedtoseeif…”
“Ifwhat?Iwasgoodenoughforyou?”
Shelooksatme,tearsstreamingdownhercheeks.Iwanttowipethemaway,takeawayallherpain.

Makeeverythingrightforher.

“No,youareenoughforme.”
“Oh,great,”shelaughssharply.“I’mgladyoufiguredthatout.Butthere’sstilloneproblem.”
“What’sthat?”Iask,wantinghertosoftenherstance,hearmeout—trustme.
“Samson,Idon’tthinkyou’reenoughforme.”
Thenacarpullsupandshedoesn’teventurntomeetmyeyes.
“Iloveyou,AvaGrace,”Itellherasshestepsintothecar.
Sheturnstome,herfacewritteninpain.“Butyoulied.”
“Imadeamistake.”
“Yes,”shesays,hervoicesoft,hereyesapuddleoftears.“Yes,Samson,youdid.IthoughtIcould

trustyouandIdon’tknowwhatthatmeansanymore.Ineedsometime.AwayfromyouandHeartofGold
andwhoeveryouthinkyouare.WecantalkattheweddingifI’mready.Please,youowemethat.”

Andthensheisgone.
AndIknow,withoutashadowofadoubt,whatImustdo.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

CALL

my sister while I’m in the Uber, headed home. I hiccup the sob story and beg her to come to my

rescue.Tocometomyplace,makemetea,andtellmeallguyssuck.

Sheisagoodsister,andawhilelaterIamshoweredandinPJs,afleecerobeovermyshouldersand

ahotmugofteainhand,andSophiaasksfortheentirerundown,nowthatIamnotinhysterics.

Itellhereverything.TheconversationIhadwithSamsonatherwildbachelorettenight,howhetook

meouttomyfavoriterestaurant;howwecried,andheopeneduptome.Howherentedtheiceskating
rinkandwonmeoverwithaquickieandakiss.Lotsofkisses.Somanykisses.

“Okay,Igetit.Youhadsexinalockerroom,”shesays.“Keepgoing.Whathappenednext?”
IexplainthatheisHeartofGold,howwhenBonJoviblastedthroughthespeakersIsawhowhehad

orchestratedthisentirenighttocatertome.Totrickme.Tomakemeintoafool.

“Ormaybeitwasjusthiswayofbeingromantic?”Sophiasuggests.
Irollmyeyes.“Hepretendedtobesomeonehewasn’t,allthattime.Itoldhimmydeepestfears,my

desires.Itoldhimeverything.”

“But,justhearmeoutokay?”shetries.“Hewasn’tpretending.Imean,whenheemailedyou,hewas

beinghimself,wasn’the?”

“Iknowyourlifeisperfect,Sophia,andit’sprobablyhardtowrapyourmindaroundmyproblems,

butwhyareyouonhisside?”

“Sweetie,”shesays,sittingnexttomeonthecouch,wrappingherarmsaroundme.“Therearen’tany

sideshere.Ijustrememberhowsmittenyouwerewiththepersonyouemailedbackandforthwith.You
toldmeyouwerefallinginlovewiththatperson,andyouhadnoideawhohewas.Hecouldhavebeena
creepynext-doorneighbor.Butitisn’t.ItwasSamson.Amanyoualsofellfor,twicenow.”

“Buthelied.”
“Orhewasjustscared.”
“Butheshouldhavetoldmeitwashim,backwhenIaskedbeforeChristmas.Instead,hejustleftme

highanddry.”

“I thought you said he admitted that the holidays were really hard for him to get through?” Sophia

says.“Maybewhathereallyneedsissomeonewhounderstandshim,acceptshim,flawsandall.”

“I don’t know, Sophia,” I say, blowing my nose. “He’s scared of hurting someone... and what if he

does?Whatifhebreaksmyheart?”

“Butwhatifheputsitbacktogether?”

NotknowinghowIwanttoproceed,Iwakeupthenextdaydeterminedtofocusonsomethingbesidesmy

ownheart.

When Samson emails, as HeartofGold, I’m scared to open the email. But I do. Mostly because of

course,Imustknowwhathesays.

From:heartofgold

To:avagracewentworth

DearAvaGrace,

WithallthatIamandallthatIhopetobe,Iamsorry.Athousandtimesover,Iamsorry.

Always,Samson

Ofcourse,Iwanttoforgivehim...andIwill...butmyheartaches,wishinghewantedtooffermemore.

WhenIopenmyworkemailIgetacustomorderrequest.

From:mineandcoassistant

To:avagracedesigns

Hello!

Onbehalfofmyboss,Iwouldliketoorderacustomengagementring.
He is a huge fan of your custom work, and loves the latest designs on your website and trusts your

concepts.

Accordingtohim,itneedstobe,“Beautiful,yetimperfect.Puregold,butrougharoundtheedges.Just

like our love. It needs a glittering stone that sparkles, just like her—I want it to be unconventional yet
somethingyoucan’thelpbutlookat.Can’thelpbutfallinlovewith.”

Thereisnolimittotheamounthewouldbewillingtospend.
Also, he would like to supply the gold for the ring. Please be in touch with me so we can work

togethertogethimexactlywhathewants.

Thankyou,
LindaPatterson

Ireadtheemailagain,andthenagain.It’shardnottofeeljealousofthisstranger,themanandalsothe

womanheisaskingtobehiswife.Hecouldsuccinctlyexpresswhathewantsoutofthisring,andwhy.In
allthetimeI’vebeenmakingjewelry,therehavebeenplentyoftimeswhenIwasbroughttotearsover
thesweetsentimentsandstoriesacouplehassharedwithmeandhowtheyexpressedwhattheywanted
theirpiecestorepresent,butneverhaveIreadamanexplainhislovelikethis.

Ittakesmybreathaway.
Still, as I reread the email I can’t help but think it is the most unusual request. The customer isn’t

contactingmedirectly.Ipickupmyphone.

IcallLindaPatterson,toplan,andsheexplainsthatherbosswantstouseaspecificgoldthatholdsa

lotofmeaningtohim.

“Thatisactuallyreallyromantic,”Itellher.“CouldIspeakwithhimtogetabetterideaofwhathe

wouldliketheringtolooklike?”

“No,thatwon’twork,”shetellsme.“Hereallylovesyourwork,andtrustsyoureye.”
“Andmoney,yousaidthereisnolimit?Imean,wouldhewantatwokaratdiamondorten?”
“Hewantswhateverwillbestrepresentsomeonebeautiful,yetimperfect.YoucaninvoicemeandI

willputdownadeposit,straightaway.AndIcanexpressthegoldtoyourstudioassoonasyougiveme
thegoahead.”

“So, he just wants me to design this ring, however I like, and spend as much as I want?” I laugh,

thinkingthisrequestisinsane.

“Exactly.Howsooncanyoumakeit?”
“Whendoyouneedit?”
“Infourweeks.”
“Well,thatwillrequiremetojugglemycalendararoundslightly—”
“Noproblem,”Lindasays,cuttingmeoff.“Hewillpaydoubleforit.”
I’munabletosayno,obviously—moneyismoney—butalsothisisthemostexcitingorderIhaveever

received.Igetthedetails,sendaninvoice,andLindatellsmethegoldwillbedeliveredviaFedExin
twenty-fourhours.

I hang up, laughing at the absurdity, but then tears spring to my eyes at the romantic man and the

womanwhoisluckyenoughtohavehim.

Iopenmydesignportfolio,determinedtomakethemostbeautifulringIhaveevercreatedinmylife.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

MONTH

PASSES

BLUR

Work keeps me busy, and it’s been too damn long since I focused on the company I own and the

mountainthatpaysformyfreedom.

Theapproachingwedding,andknowingIwillseeAvaGraceagain,isahugemotivatorformetogo

allinwithwork.IheadtothemineseachmorningontheoutskirtsofFaro.Igetinmypickuptruckwith
the snow-capped mountains surrounding me. The fresh mountain air fills my lungs before I don a
headlampandheadbelowtheEarth’ssurfacetocheckonmycrews.

It’sfuckingterrifyingtohavelaiditalloutforAvaGrace,notknowinghowshewillreceivemewhen

Iseeheragain,butalsoknowingIamcurrentlymybestself...thebestmanIhaveeverbeen.Nolonger
wrappedupinmypast,Iamlookingtomyfuture.

AfutureIwanttosharewithAva.
I send my housekeeper Esme, and my assistant Linda, to my place outside of Whistler a few days

beforetheweddingweekendbegins.IfAvaGraceforgivesme,Iwanttobringhertooneofmyhouses
andthendroptooneknee.WhichmeansIwantmyseldom-usedplacetolooklikeahome.

Nowtheweddingweekendishere.IdrivetheonehundredmilestoWhitehorseandthengetonaplaneto
Whistler. Linda says I should take a private jet, but I don’t need that fancy ass shit. When I finally,
hopefully,havemywomanherewithme,ofcourse,I’llbuyajetifshewantsit—butIdon’tneedthatjust
forme.

WhenIfinallylandinWhistler,Itakeadeepfuckingbreath.Thisplaceiscrowdedeverydayofthe

goddamnedyear,anditexhaustsme.That’swhyIwouldneverstayinthevillageproper.Ihaveaplace
thirtyminutesoutsideofthebusyskitownandItakeacabtomyplacetocheckinwithEsmebeforeI
meetupwiththeweddingparty.

“Can I show you the redecorated great room, Samson?” Esme asks after I drop off my bags in my

room.Shehandsmeawhiskeyandwewalktowardthebackofthehousetotheroomlargeenoughfora
gala. The previous owners were politicians, and I get why they’d need a room that could seat two
hundred.Me,though?I’mnotplanningonthrowinganypartiesanytimesoon.Still,theroomwasdated,
mustyandneedednewflooringinstalled.

“It looks great, Esme. Especially the fireplace. That is really good craftsmanship.” The mantle is

madeofgeodesandraw-edgedwood.It'saworkofart.

“Oh,Lindahadthatmade.Itwasallheridea.”
“Isshearound?”Iask,knowingthatshehasapackagethatisincrediblyimportant.

“Yes, she was just arranging flowers as you requested, in the kitchen. Pink roses in every room,

correct?”

“Correct.” I head to the kitchen and see Linda seconds before my mind registers hundreds of pink

roses.

“Well,whatdoyouthink?”sheasks,turningavasetofaceme.
“Itlookspink.”
Lindasmiles.“Thatiswhatyouaskedfor,isitnot?”
“Itis.Ijusthopeitgoesasplanned.Ifshewalksaway...”
Lindanods,understandingtheseriousnessofwhatIamdoing.“It’sgoingtobeokay,Samson,either

way.”

Irunmyhandovermybeard,thinkingsheiswrong.Idon’tknowhowIcanlivewithoutAvaGrace.

This past month has been torture. Without having an email from her every day, I’m going through
withdrawals.

“Andthering?”Iask.
“Hereyouare,”shesays,reachingintoadrawerandpresentingmewitharingbox.
Iopenit,mythroattight.Theworkmanshipisincomparable.IfIthoughtthefireplacewasaworkof

art,thenthismustbeamasterpiece.

“It’s perfect,” I say, closing the lid and slipping it in my coat pocket. “I need to get going. The

rehearsaldinnerisinanhour,andIneedtochangebeforeIgo.”

“Ofcourse,asuitislaidoutinyourroom.”
“Thankyou,Linda.Forcoordinatingthisforme.Icouldn’thavepulleditoffwithoutyou.”
“Nowyoujustneedtogogetthegirl,andbringherhome.”
Inod,tense,knowingnothingiseverthatsimple,eversoeasy.
Especiallywhenheartsareontheline.

The rehearsal is set for four o’clock, and afterward we are having dinner. I pull up to The Historic
Claremontahalfhourearly,wonderingwhatroomAvaGraceisstayingin.Theweddingandreception
arebothbeingheldhere,andafterthewedding,thetwentyguestsareinvitedtostayatthehotelforan
additionalfourdaystoskiandrelaxwiththebrideandgroom.

Thatisn’twhatIplanondoing,though.
Gettingoutofmytruck,Ipatmypocket,triplecheckingthattheringisthere.Idon’tknowwhenthe

perfectmomentwillpresentitself.

Onceinside,ItextTaylorlettinghimknowI’vearrivedandhetellsmetojoinhimatthehotelbar.
Ifindhimwithahandfuloffriends,theothertwogroomsmen,Sophia’sfather,andsomeoldermen

thatIassumeareherextendedfamily.

“Hey, Samson,” Taylor calls, standing up and clapping my back in greeting. I shake the hand of the

guysImetatthebachelorparty,andreintroducemyselftoSophia’sfather,Troy,hopingtostealhimaway
beforethenightisthrough.

“Lookatyou,”Isay,shakingmyhead,agrinspreadingovermyface.“Can’tbelieveyou’regetting

hitched.”

“Luckiestmanintheworld,”Taylorsays,noddinginagreement.“Sophia’shere,wanttosayhello?”

Aswewalkover,hemakesacommentaboutAva,howshe’sbeenawreckoverseeingme.HowIbetter
notfuckanythingupthisweekend.Hesmileswhenhesaysthatlastpart,butIknowhowmuchthisday
meanstohim.Heismakingafamily,theonethingheandIhaven’thadforsomuchofourlives.

“So,youknow...everything?”Iask.
“Ofcourse.Womentalk,butsisters?Hell,theyareallupinoneanother’sbusiness.”

“Right.”ItrynottolethiswordsdiscouragemeandIfollowhimtoagroupofwomen,scanningthe

roomforAvaGrace,notseeingheranywhere.Sophiawrapsherarmsaroundme;genuinelyhappytosee
meandallIcanthinkisshewouldn’tbesoniceifshewereonTeam-I-Hate-Samson.

“Youreadyforthebigday?”Iask,tryingtokeepthingslight,easy—notaboutAvaandme.
“IthoughtI’daskthesamequestionofyou.Nervous?”sheasks.
“Aboutwhat?I’mnottheonemarryingthisbastard,”Ijoke,squeezingmylittlebrother’sshoulders.
“ImeanaboutseeingAva...it’sbeenamonthsince...”
“SinceIfuckedeverythingup?”Ioffer.
Sophia grimaces, yet still managing to look in control. She’s wearing a fitted green dress, her hair

straight,asmallstringofdiamondsonherneck.Elegantandpoised,justlikehermotherCorawhoisa
fewfeetawaytalkingwithotherguests.

“Speak of the devil,” Taylor says, nodding, looking over my shoulder. I turn, and there she is. A

tornadoofemotionrushesthroughme,andIfeelsweptupinAvaGrace.

ShelookslikeaValentine’sDaycard,palepinklipsandasoftpinkdress,hittingheraboveherknees.

Thenecklineisshapedinaheart,herhairlighterthanwhenIsawitlast,andpinkhighlightsframeher
face.AvaGraceisn’ttryingtobesexy—shejustlookslikelove.

Truelove.
NowIjustneedtoconvincehertobemyValentine.
Tobemine,forever.
AsIsteptowardher,anemployeerunsinthebar,shouting,“Fire,”heyells.“There’safire!”
AvaGrace’seyesmeetmine,andthenitstartsrainingfromtheceiling.
Thesprinklersaretriggered,chaosunleashed.
IreachforAva’shands;sheletsmetakethem.
Withhandsheldtightwerunfromtheburningbuilding.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

UNDREDS

PEOPLE

streamoutontothefrontlawnoftheClaremont.Onlytroubleis,thelawniscovered

insnow.Whistlerisaskiers’paradise,butIamnotaskier.

AndevenifIwere,likemysisterandTaylor,noonehereispreparedforevacuation.Mysister,with

her beautiful hair and makeup, her dress soaked through, I catch her eye and she is shaking her head in
horroraswestandbackandwatchthehotelignite.

“Standback.Standbackeveryone,”firefightersyellastheycarryhosesfromtheirtrucks.Thefireis

at the back of the building, where all the rooms are, but since the sprinklers went off, not much of the
interiorwillbedestroyed.

“MyGod,”Isay,shakingmyheadinshock.“Ican’tbelievethisishappeningtoSophiaandTaylor.”

Myheartbreaksformysister.Iknowhowbadlyshewantedthisdaytobeperfect,thisentireweddingto
beadreamcometrue.Andnoweverythingisupinflames.

“Ihopetohelleveryone’sokay,”Samsonsays,wrappinghisarmaroundme.Hisarmfeelslikesafety,

likesecurityandpromise.Idon’twanthimtoletgo.

Wehaven’texchangedevenafewwordsyet,andIknowthingslikeI’msorryandIforgiveyouwill

needtobesaid,butthentragedystruckusall.

Inestlemyselfdeeperagainsthim,mycheekpressesagainsthischest,andhesmellslikeevergreen

andmountainair.Hesmellslikeaman.

AndIwanttotellhimIwanthimtobemyman.
WillIforgivehim?Onemilliontimesover.
Letitbe.Letitbe.
No one is perfect, every one of us is flawed. But I believe in my heart Samson was trying to make

thingsrightwhenhecamecleantome.Hewasn’ttryingtohide.

AndIseehim.
“Everyoneisgoingtoneedtoleavetheproperty,”afirefighterdirectsus.
Samsonnodsandleadsmetowardmysisterandtherestofthefamily.Theweddingpartyishuddled

ontheroad,ourheelssinkinginthedeepsnowandourbarelegsshivering.

“Anemployeetoldusthateveryonehasbeensafelyevacuated,”Sophiaexplains,hereyesfillingwith

tears.“Ican’tbelievethisishappening.”

Taylorlookslikeatrainwreck,stresswritteninhiseyes,andIhatethateverythingisruined.
“Does anyone know what happened?” my mother asks. My father’s hand is on hers, and everyone’s

watchingthebackhalfofthehotelcrumble.Theskyisfullofsmoke,andthefactthatit’salreadynightfall
doesn’thelpanything.

“Iheardsomeonementionanelectricalfire,”myaunttellsus.

Aswewatchthefirefightersworktoextinguishtheflames,IfeelSampsonslipawayfromme.
Instantly,Iwishhewerebackatmyside.IseehimspeakingwithmyfatherandTaylorseveralfeet

away.

“I’m so sorry, Sophia,” I tell my sister, wrapping her in a hug. The bridesmaids, Janet and Cecily

clingtotheirhusbands,everyoneshockedatwhathashappened.

“It’sallsotragic,”Sophiawhispers.“Iguessthere’snorehearsaldinnertonight.”
Janet,CecilyandItakeinherwords.IwishwithallmyhearttherewassomethingIcoulddotofix

thingsforher.

Mymomistalkingloudly,nothelpingthesituation,“Withthisbeingaholidayweekendallthehotels

arebookedsolid.MythirdcousinCarolinewantedtocome,last-minute,tothewedding,butshecouldn’t
findaplacetostayanywhere.”

“NotasingleplacetosleepinWhistler?”Iask.“Aren’tthere,like,athousandhotelshere?”
“Perhaps,butCarolinewouldn’tstayanywherelessthanfour-star.”
Irealizethisisnotthetimetopickafight,butit'shardnottorollmyeyesatmyfamily’spropriety.

Allweneednowarewarmbeds,food,andshelter.Thetruthis,weshouldjustbegratefulwearealive.

Severalminuteslaterthemenrejoinus.
“Everything okay?” Sophia asks, then groans at herself. “My God, that was the dumbest thing I’ve

eversaid.Ofcourse,everythingisnotokay.Everythingisruined.”Shewipesthetearsfromhereyesand
Taylorwrapsherinahug.

“Actually,Sophia,”hesays.“Everythingisn’tlost.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Sophiaaskslookingupatherhusband-to-be.
“Thebestmansavedtheday.”
AlleyesturntoSamson,whoimmediatelydropshisgaze.Thismountainmanlooksuncomfortablein

thisfancysuitandhisbeardtellsabiggerstory.He’samanwholivesonthelandandlovesthiscountry.

SohowisSamson,thisreclusivewanderer,goingtosavetheday?
“How?”Sophiaasks.
Samsonnodshishead,lookingatmysister.“You’rewelcometojoinmeatmyplace,fortheweekend.

It’snottheClaremont,andI’msorryforthatSophia,butIthinkitmightworkinapinch.”

“Yourplace?”Sheasks.Sheshakesherheadconfused.“ButIthoughtyoulivedinacabinin...”She

pursesherlips.“Whereexactlydoyoulive?”

“IloveoutsideofFaro,intheYukon.ButIhaveaplaceherethatIkeepasaninvestmentproperty.”
“Investment property?” Sophia asks, looking at me to see if I knew about this. I shake my head, as

confusedassheis.Hiswordsdon’tmatchtheimagewehaveofhiminourminds.

But then I laugh to myself because this is Samson. Has he ever been anything I thought he was? I

thoughthewasincapableoflove,ofopeningup,beinghumbleandbeingopen.Butthatisn’tthecaseall.I
gottoknowhimasHeartofGoldandrealizedthere’smoretohimthanmeetstheeye.

“Why do you have an investment property?” Sophia presses. “I thought you lived in a cabin. In the

middleofnowhere.”

“Idoliveinthemiddleofnowhere.But,Ihaveamineupthere.”Samsonlooksattheground,clearly

uncomfortablewithherlineofquestioning.

“Amine?”Iask,thoroughlyconfused.IguessIassumedSamsonhuntedbearsandforagedforfood.
“I,uh,boughtsomelandwhenImovedupnorth,and,therewassomeveinsofgoldintheHeartland

Mountains,whichIown.”

“Whatdoyoumean,veinsofgold?”Janetasks.“Like,agoldmine?”
Sophia is typing away on her phone, lips pursed. Then a shocked gasp escapes them. “Holy shit.

You’re not joking.” She turns her phone to face us, images of his mine, his properties, and even a
Wikipageonhimarelisted.

Samson runs his hand over his beard. “Look, I’m a miner, and there was a gold rush a few years

back.”Samsonnodsstoically,lookingattheground,crossinghisarms.It’sasiftalkingaboutmoneyand
hisaccomplishmentsisthemostuncomfortablethingintheworld.

Ismileatthat,appreciatinghowheisn’tboundbythetrappingsofmaterialthings.Hedoesn’tlead

withwhathehasalwaysdone.He’shimself,andIcan’thelpbutthinkmaybeI’mnottheonlyonewho
wearsherheartonhersleeve.MaybeSamsondoestoo.

“Agoldrush?Whatdoesthatmean?”Sophiaasks.
“Itmeanshe’sbillionaire.”Taylorsays.“Don’tlookatmelikethat,Sophia,”hecontinues.“Ihadno

idea either. He just told your dad and me just now. But I think this plan is a good one. Solid. It’s not
perfect,it’snotthedreamyouhadplanned,butwecanstillgetmarried,youandme.Wecanstillstartour
lifetogether.”

TaylorwipesawayhertearsandthenshewrapsSamsoninahug.“Thankyou,thankyousomuch,”

shegushes.

I’m relieved to see my sister finding a way to roll with the punches after so many years of being

uptight.

“Sohowfarisyourplace?”Janet’shusbandasksSamson.“Becauseit’sfuckingcoldouthere.And

it’sonlygonnagetcolder.”

“Onlythirtyminutesaway.Itwon’ttakelong.”
“Andshouldweorderdinnertogo?”mymotherasks.“Isthere,Idon’tknow,pizzadelivery?”
“Oh,myGod,”Sophialaughs.“I’veneverheardmomorderpizzainmylife.”Shecalmsdownand

says,“Ican’tbelievethehotelburneddown,allofourthingsaredestroyed,were’standinginsnow,and
eatingpizzaformyrehearsaldinner.Thiswassonottheplan.”

Weallshakeourheads,stillnotbelievingwhat’sjusttranspired.
“Wedon’tneedtogetpizza,Cora,”Samsontellsher.“Ialreadycalledmycookandshe’scalledina

handfulofextrastafffortonight.Therewillbeadinnerforyou,Sophia,Ipromise.”

Cook?Investmentproperties?Thegoldrush?
Ishakemyheadindisbelief.Samsonsavedtheday,provingthathetrulyhasaheartofgold.
“Then, let’s not sit around anymore, I’ll sort things out with the hotel later, but for now let’s get

everyoneoutofthecold,”myfathersays.

“Beforeyougo,”Samsonsaysmyfather.“Ineedtospeakwithyou.”
Mydad nods andeveryone begins togo separate ways, Samsontelling them thathe’ll text them his

address.

Ilookatmysister,Taylor,andmymom,decidingwhoIshouldridewith,gratefulwe’veallrented

carswhenwelandedinWhistler.

“Ava Grace,” a voice calls to me. I turned and find Samson looking at me. “I need to talk to your

father,butthen,you’recominghomewithme.”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

PULL

AvaGrace’sfatherasidesowecanhaveatalk.Becauselater,AvaGraceandIaregoingtohavea

talk.

Atalkthat’sgoingtochangeeverything.
“What’sthisabout,son?It’sfreezingcoldouthereyouknow,”hetellsme.
“Iknow,sir,it’simportant.”
“Wellthen?”Helooksatme,waitingformetocontinue.
“Here’s the thing, I moved out to the Yukon because I was determined to live my life on my own

terms.Ididn’twanttobeownedbyanyone,haveanyonetellmewhoIneededtobeorhowIneededto
doit.Idon’taskpermission.”

Troynods,andIappreciatethathe’stryingtofollow.
“Thethingis,”Itellhim.“IthoughtIdidn’tneedtoaskpermission,foranything.ButIwaswrong.I

needtoaskyoupermission,sir.Permissionforyourdaughter’shandinmarriage.”

Troy’s eyebrows raise, clearly shocked, I’m not surprised. I figured he might not know everything

that’sgonedownbetweenAvaandme,butIneedtodothisright.Evenifit’suncomfortableorseemsold-
fashioned,IknowonethingaboutAvaGrace.She’saromantic.Askingherfatherforherhandinmarriage
issomethingIwanttodoforher.Forus.

“Isthissomethingshe’shopingyou’dask?Idon’tmeantoberude,Samson,butthisisthefirstI’ve

heardofit.”

“Iknow,sir,Iknowitmightseemunexpected—”
“No,notunexpected.I’velearnedthroughraisingAvaGracethatexpectingtheunexpectedistheonly

waytosurvivewhenitcomestothatgirl.AndwhoamItojudge?Youwanttobewithherandshewants
tobewithyou,wellthenwelcometothefamily.Itrustherimplicitly.Butyou,Samson,canItrustyou?”

“Yes,sir,”Itellhim.“Youcantrustme,Iwon’tletyoudown.”
Troynodsslowly,reachinghisarmsaroundmeandgivingmeafatherlyhug.Ihaven’treceivedahug

likethisintwentyyears.

“It’snotmeyouneedtoworryaboutlettingdown,Samson.Ifshe’sgoingtobeyourwife,AvaGrace

istheonlyoneyouneedtoworryaboutmakinghappy.”

Inthecar,AvaGraceissilent.I’msilenttoo,notwantingtopushher,butsobadlywantingtohelpher.

Eventually,wegetontheroadandIknowit’suptometobreakthesilence.
“I’msogladyouweren’thurtinthefire,AvaGrace.”
Shemakesasharpintakeofbreath.Herhandreachesformine.“Iforgiveyou,Samson.Iforgiveyou

andIshouldhavetoldyouthatsooner.”

“We’lltalkaboutthat,butIdon’twanttostressyouout.Thiswholenighthasalreadybeenso—”
“No,I’mnotstressedout,”shetellsme.“IfeellikeIknowexactlywhoIamandexactlywhatIwant.

AndSamson,Ihatedspendingamonthwithoutyou.”

Ilookather,atthiswomanwhotakesmybreathaway.Ididn’texpectheronslaughtofemotionslike

this,tellingmeshe’sacceptedmyapologyandthatshehasmissedme.

Iwantedhertosaythesethings,ofcourseIdid,butIknewIdidn’tnecessarilydeservethem.
“IknowwhatIwanttoo,”Itellher.
“Whatdoyouwant,Samson?”sheasks,squeezingmyknee.“Besidesgivingmeyourmeatballs?”
Herjokemakesdrivingfuckingimpossible.AllIwantistopulloverandhaveherhereandnow.I

groan,feelingmycockgrowhard,butknowingIneedtogetmygirlsafelyhome.

Ikeepmyeyesontheroad.“Iwanttotalkthisallthrough,butIneedtogetyoutomyplacesafely,

first.Hell,especiallyafterwe’vebeenthroughthefire,beenthroughhellandback,Ineedtogetyouhome
inonepiece.”

“Iunderstand,”shesays,keepingherhandonmyknee.
Myheartispumping,sofuckinggratefulthatsheforgiveme.Avaissittingnexttomelaughingabout

motherfuckingmeatballsandIknowwearemadeforoneanother.

“So,”shesays,“you’renotactuallythisreclusivemanlivingaloneinthewoods?”
Ishakemyheadtoclarify.“Iamarecluse.Ilivealone,exceptforsomeemployees.”
“Butyouliveoutinthewoods?Prettyfarfromhere?”
“Iliveaboutatwo-hourflightfromhere,andit’sinthemiddleofbumfucknowhere.Butit’sbeautiful.

AndI’mluckybastardtohavesomuch.”

“Ican’tbelieveyou’reabillionaire.YoureallypullofftheI-don’t-give-a-shit-vibeverywell.”
“I’lltakethatasacompliment.”
AvaGracelaughs,andthatlaughterfillsthecarwithwhatsoundslikeathousandstars.
“Itisacompliment,”shetellsme,lacingherfingersthroughmine.“Averygoodcompliment.”

Onceeveryonehasarrivedsafelytomyhome,everyone’seyeswidenastheytakeinmyplace.

“Damn,brother,thisisjustoneofyourhomes?”Taylorasks.
“Yeah,buthonestly,thethingsIowndon’tdefineme.”
Ava Grace is by my side. The girl who is incapable of holding back. “So, then what defines you,

Samson?”

“Thepeopleinmylife.”
“Crazytohearthatfromyou,Samson,”Taylorscoffs.“Afteryou’vebeenMIAforsolong.”
“Peoplechange,”Isay,meaningitwitheveryfiberofmybeing.
Esme and Linda somehow managed to find five people to help run the show tonight. “We sent

someone to town to get everyone toiletries and a simple change of clothing,” Esme explains to the
weddingparty.

“Doyouthinkallofourluggageiscompletelydestroyed?”Cecilyasks.
“We’llknowtomorrow,”Troysays.“Ijustgotdonetalkingwithhotelandtheydon’tknowhowmuch

damagetherewas.Thankfully,thefirewascontainedquicklyandwasjustinaportionofthehotel.So,
wemightbeokay.”

“Alright,”Sophiasays.“It’sjust,myweddingdress...”
“Iknowdear,”hermothersays.“Butthereisnousefrettingovertryingtoworkthatallout.Someone

isrunningtograbuspajamasandtoothbrushes.So,wecanbegratefulforthat.”

Esmeletseveryoneknowthatdinnerwillbeservedinonehourandifthey’dliketorelaxinthegreat

roomuntilthen,therearecocktailsandappetizerswaiting.

Everyonestartstoleavethefoyer,agameplaninplace,butIcatchtheeyeofAva,notwantingherto

leavewitheveryoneelse.

Notwantinghertoleaveatall.
“AvaGrace,canyoucomewithme?”
“Areyougoingtotellmewhatyouwantnow?”sheaskswithasmile.
“Iam.”Itakeherhandandleadhertothebackofthehouse.Idrapeacoatoverhershouldersand

offerherapairofgloves.Idonacoataswellandopenthebackdoor,steppingbackintothefrigidwinter
air.

“Betterbegood,tobringmebackouttothefreezingcold.”
“It’sgood.Ipromise.”Itakeherhandandleadherdownapathawayfromthehouse.Theskyispitch

blackandyoucan’thearathing.Ilookatherandthenraisemyeyestothestars.

“AvaGrace,theretherearemorestarsintheskythananyonecancount,andthathasalwaysmademe

feelsosmall.ButthenImetyou,andIdidn’tfeelinsignificantanymore.Ididn’tfeellikeIneededtohide.
Yourlightwasburningbright;youarestars,personified.YoulightupmylifeandIdon’twanttobeinthe
nightskyalone.Iwanttobeyourstar.AndIwantyoutobemine.”

Tearsfillhereyes.She’slookingatmeasifshecan’tlookaway.AndIcan’tlookawayeither.She

hascaptivatedme.

“Iloveyou,AvaGrace.AndIknowIamflawed.IknowImessedupapartofourstoryandforthat,I

amsosorry.ButIdon’tthinkourstoryisfinished,Ithinkithasjustbegun.Ithinkourlovewaswrittenin
thestars.Iwantyoutobemywife.Willyoumarryme,AvaGrace?”

Ava gasps, covering her mouth in surprise. “Yes, yes Samson.” She’s crying and nodding and

tremblingallatthesametime.She’slaughingthelaughthatcapturedmyheartandfillsmysoul.

Idroppedtoonekneeandpullouttheblackbox.ThenIopenit,offerthefinalsecretthatI’vekept.
“Oh,myGod,Samson.You?Youdidthis...forme?”
“Iknowisnotconventionaltoaskawomantomakeherownengagementring,but—”
“It’sthemostromanticthing.Samson,youtrulyhaveaheartofgold.”
Shewrapsherarmsaroundme,andIbreatheherin,hergoodnessandhertruthandherlove.Idon’t

knowhowIgotsoluckyastofindher,tohaveandtoholdher,butIdo.

AndI’llneverlethergo.
“I’mgoingtokissyounow,AvaGrace.”
MyhandscuphercheeksandIpullherlipstomine.Ikisshersoftly,Ikisshergently.Ikissherand

promisehermyheart.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

CAN

’

BELIEVE

myliferightnow.

Wewalkintothegreatroom,whereeveryoneisdrinkingcocktails,laughing,warmingupbythefire

blazinginthegorgeousfireplace.

Idon’twanttostealmysister’sthunder,buttodaywassowild,sounexpectedonsomanylevels,and

besides,everyoneIloveishere.

Mysisterandherhusbandandmyparents.MycousinTrudyandherStarWarsfanatichusbandandmy

auntandherhusband.Imusttellthemthenewsbecausetherearenoguarantees,allwehaveisnow.

Rightnow,ifItellthem,theycancelebratewithme.Wecantoasttogether...andthenSamsonandI

cancontinuewithournightasplanned.

After telling them the news everyone offers us hugs and congratulations. I’m grateful for my sister,

becauseevenifshe’sgotatotalstickupherassinsomanysituations,herheartisgood,andherlovefor
meisreal.ShewantsthebestformethesamewayIwantthebestforher.Andreally,cananyoneaskfor
morethanthat?

“Ava,I’msohappy.I’msohappythisworkedoutthewayitdid.”Sophia’seyesarefilledwithtears

andIdon’tknowifit’sthecocktailorthefactthatherweddingdressmaybeburnedtoacrispbuther
supportmeanssomuch.

“Ihavethebestidea,”Sophiasays.“Weshouldhaveadoublewedding.Tomorrow.”
Ilaugh.“Um,okay,sweetheart,yougetrightonthat.”
“No,”shesays,grabbingmyhands.“Imeanit.Afterthatfiretonight,allIcanthinkishowprecious

lifeis.Howwecan’thaveeverythingperfect—”

“Wait,”Isay,raisingmyhandsinfeignedshock.“Mysister,theoneandonlySophiaisadmittingthat

lifeisn’talwaysperfect?”

“Iknow,right?”Shelaughs.“Butit’strue.Whenyoufindloveitwouldbefoolishtosquanderit,for

evenoneday.”

“Iloveyou,”Itellher,wrappingmyarmsaroundher,gratefulthatevenifwehaven’talwaysseeneye

toeye,rightnowwedo.Loveisprecious,andIamgoingtoholdontomine.

Myparentsarethrilledaswell,apparently,Samsonpulledmyfatherasideandaskedformyhandin

marriage.

Listen, I’m a romantic at heart. I read romance novels and re-watch romantic comedies dozens of

times,andmakefreakingweddingringsforaliving.Iwantedalovestory.AndIhaveone.

“Thinkthat’senoughsmalltalkforme,Imaybeyourfiancé,butI’mstillamountainman,andIneed

mywomanalltomyself.”

Myheartsurgeswithprideashecallshimselfmyfiancé.Idon’tthinkthereisabetterwordinthe

Englishlanguage.Andso,whenhetakesmyhandandpullsmeawayfromtheparty,fromthedinnerand
thedrinks,Ilethimleadtheway.

Inhisroom,withthedoorlocked,heundressesme.Onezipper,twosnaps,threekissesalongmyneck.

“YoulookedlikeaValentine’sDaycardtoday,”hetellsme,whisperingthewordsinmyear.
I giggle, actually giggle. As if I’m a giggler. Before I met Samson I was a lot of things I’m not

anymore.Hehaschangedme.

“DoyoulikeValentine’sDay?”Iask,hishandrunningovermyhips,pullingmetohim.
“NowthatIgettocelebrateitwithyou,tomorrow,yes.”
He drops to his knees and pulls down my panties. His mouth kisses my pussy, and my body is his.

Nowandforever.Hisstrongarmswraparoundmywaist,andmyhandsrunthroughhishair.

“Thatfeelssogood,”Imoanashistonguefindsmyfolds,suckingmelikemybodywasmadeforhim.

I’msowet,andhistonguelicksmelikehewasmadetotasteme.

Hestands,cuppingmybreasts,pullinganippletohismouthandsuckingitsweetly.He’swakingmy

bodyup,headtotoe,andI’minnorush.IgethimnowandIgethimforever.Samsonismine.

HetakesoffhisclothesandIgrinlikeafoolwhenIseehischiseledbody.
“HowisitpossiblethatyouaremorerippedthanwhenIsawyoulast?”
“Iworkwithmyhands.”
“Ohyeah?Youliketoworkwithyourhands?”Itease,myfingersinsidethewaistbandofhisboxers,

pullingthemoffandthenlettingmyfingerswraparoundhislonghardcock.

“Ilovetoworkwithmyhands,sweetheart.”
Hisfingerspressagainstmyclitasifheknowsmypleasurespot.
“Isyourhomenice?”Iask,myeyesflutteringclosedashetouchesme.
“You’re gonna love it there. It’ll be just us, no distractions. I’ll spread your legs every day of your

life,I’lllickyourpussyandmakeyoudrip.”

“Idon’treallywanttodrip,”Imurmur.“Iwanttogush.Iwantyoutomakemesowetthatmycome

getsalloveryourface.Iwanttositonyou,andIwantyoutoeatmeoutlikeyouweremadetodoso.”

Samsongrowlsinmyear,squeezingmyassandthenpickingmeup.“Howaboutwedothatrightnow,

baby,”hesays,andIsighoutayes.

Ipushhimonthebedandcrawloverhisperfectbody,uninhibitedwithhim,becauseafterouremails

andourheart-to-heartsandourtearsandlaughter—Ifeelsosafewithhim.So,Iturnaround,myassinhis
face,sittingonhismouth,anddropmyheadsoIcantakehimdeepinmythroat.

Isuckhim,hishardcock,intomymouth,burningmythroat.He’ssobigandsothick,butIlovethe

wayitmakesmefeelwhenIrunmytongueoverhishardness.Itmakesmefeellikeawomanandmakes
mefeellovedandbeautiful.

Samson’stongueisdeepinmypussy,lickingmeupanddown,upanddown,myclitisonfire,my

juice all over him. He presses a finger inside me, moving in out, faster and faster, making me come.
Makingmepour.Makingmegush.

“Oh,myGod,Samson,don’tstop.Don’tstop.Oh,myGod,”Imoan.
Hekeepsfingerfuckingme,andIkeepsuckinghim,cuppinghisballswithmyhand,movingmythumb

upanddownthehardridgesofhislength.

“I’msoclosesweetheart,I’mgonnacomeinyourmouth.”
“No,”Isay.“Iwantyourcockinmewhenyoucome.Iwantyourcomeinsideme,please.”
Hesqueezesmyass,groaningasIturnaround,glidingdownonhisthickness.Rockingoverhischest,

mytitsbouncing.HisarmswraparoundmywaistasImovewithhiminsideofme.Rockingmyhipsas
wefuck,ashiscomepulseswithinme,asmybodylightsup,thestarsintheskybursting.

“Oh,myGod,AvaGrace,neverstop,”hegroans,hisstringofwordsperfectioninmyears.
“Thatwasmagic,”Itellhim,laughing.Giggling.
“Youknowhowitcouldbemoremagical?”heasks,hishandsonmyhips,hiseyesonmine.
“What,”Iask,stillcatchingmybreath,stillamazedthattheringonmyfingeristheoneImade.
“WeshouldgetmarriedonValentine’sDay,”hetellsme.
“What?”Ilaugh.“Didyoutalktomysister?”
Heshakeshishead.“No,why?”
“Shesaidthesamething.”
“Good.BecauseIwantto,AvaGrace.Iwanttomarryyoutomorrow.Don’tmakethismountainman

wait.”

Ilaugh,shakingmyhead.“You,thishard-assman,wanttogetmarriedonthemostromanticdayofthe

year?”

“Yes.Foryou?Forus?Always.”

EPILOGUE

“I

CAN

’

BELIEVE

I’mgettingmarriedtoday,”Sophiasays.Ourmotheradjustsherveil;herbridesmaidsare

intheirreddresses.

“Thefactthatourhotelroomsweren’tlosttothefireissuchluck,”mymothersays.
Weallnodinagreement;itcouldn’thaveturnedoutbetter.Ofcourse,thebeautifulhotelisruined,and

we can’t have a wedding there, but all our clothing and personal items that were left in suitcases were
salvaged.

“Ican’tbelieveyou’regettingmarried,too,”Sophiasays,lookingatmeinthemirror.
MycousinTrudyisfixingmytrain,andthefactthatI’meveninawhiteweddinggownisamiracle.
“It’s so romantic that Samson had his mother’s wedding dress,” Esme, Samson’s housekeeper tells

me.“Hesaveditalltheseyears,amanwhodoesthatcannotpossiblyhaveacoldheart.”

“Ijustfeelsogratefulthatitwasabletobeflownhereonsuchshortnotice.”
ThedressjustarrivedfromSamson’shouseinFaro.We’rehavinganeveningweddingsothatallthe

last-minutepreparationscouldcometogether.

“Ijustdon’tquiteunderstandwhySamsonhadsomanypinkrosesalready.”Janetlooksdownatthe

pinkrosebouquetinherhand.

“Hehadthemalready,”Esmeanswersforme.“Becausehewasn’texactlysurehowhisproposalto

our Ava Grace would go. There were a lot of scenarios and we were preparing for all of them. One
optionwastobringherbackherealone.That’swhatwewerethinkingwashappening.Nooneplannedon
afire.”

Idon’tknowexactlyhowSamsonwould’veproposedhaditbeenjusthimandmehere.I’mnotsaying

I’m glad the fire happened, but somehow this all feels like it was supposed to happen. And I wouldn’t
changeathing.

“Everyoneready?”myfatherasks,steppingintothedressingroom.
Sophia and I nod, reaching for one another’s hands. Her dress is elegant, lined in fur just like she

wanted.Mydressismuchmoreromantic.Alongskirtmadeofsoftchiffon,sleevesofftheshoulder,lacy
anddelicate.

“You look beautiful,” my father tells me. “Your grandpa would’ve loved to see you like this.” My

fatherkissesmycheekandIblinkbackthetearsthinkingofGrandpaBillandhowhealwaysbelievedin
me.

“I love you, daddy,” I tell him. He offers me one arm and Sophia his other arm, and then we walk

downtothegreatroom,whereourdoubleweddingisabouttobegin.

Theceremonyissmallandintimate,thewaySophiawantedit,andIknowthatSamsonprefersitthisway
too.

Me?Idon’tcare.AllIcareaboutisthefactthatIamstandingbeforemyhusband,slippingaringon

hisfinger,promisingourforeverstooneanother.SophiaandTaylorhavejustfinishedtheirvows.Now
it’sourturn.

Theofficiateguidesus,andIholdontoeveryword,everysyllable.Bindingthepromisestomyheart.
“Ido,”hesays.
“Ido,”Isay.
Samsonkissesme,onmylips,tenderly.HekissesmeandallIwanttodoissinkintohim.Butbefore

Ican,musicplays.Thefirstnotesofthesongsendshockwavesthroughmybody.

Ipullbackinsurprise.
“Isthis—?”Iask,myeyeswidening,asmilespreadacrossmyface.
“Youandme,we’relivingonaprayer,sweetheart,”Samsonsays.Hepicksmeupandthencarriesme

downourmakeshiftaisle.

Wehavealongwaytogo.I’veneverbeentohishome;we’veneverlivedlifetogether.Inthewords

ofJBJ,takemyhandandwe’llmakeit,Iswear.

We’realreadyhalfwaythere.
I wrap my arms around my mountain man, grinning like a fool, hopelessly in love with my husband

andhisheartofgold.

❤❤❤

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KINKYRESOLUTIONSANDOTHERNEWYEAR’SDISASTERS

ByFrankieLove

CHAPTERONE

NYE2016

Thisissotypical.Sofreakingtypical.

HowmanytimeswillIletBridgetdragmeoutofmyapartmentbeforeIlearnmylesson?
She may be my best friend but she doesn’t care if I’m having fun. I’m in a bathroom while she’s

makingoutwithstrangersataswinger’sclub.

Exceptthisisn’tevenaswinger’sclub.It’sa...Idon’tknowwhat.Andthelametruthis...IwishI

did.IwishIwasn’tsofreakinguncomfortablewithallthissexstuff.

Imaynotbeavirgin,butIamcertainlysexuallyrepressedforatwenty-three-year-old.
Tomorrowmarksanewyear.ThatmeansaNEWGRACIE.Thatmeansit’stimeIstartlivingthelife

I’vealwaysbeentooscaredtotry.Thatmeans––

There’saknockonthedoor.
“Hello?Areyoutalkingtoyourselfinthere?Openthedoor.Igottadropaload.”
I pull open the door, not even a little embarrassed that I may have been talking to myself. Mostly

becauseI’vedrunkhalfabottleofProsecco--inliketwelveminutes.Andsecondly,becauseIamnotthe
personwhoshouldbeembarrassedinthisscenario.

Isqueezepasttheguyinhead-to-toepleather.Orangepleather.I’daskwhereheboughtitbecauseI

am legitimately curious but I’m scared he’s gonna eat my face off. Because he’s clearly tripping on
somethingmorehardcorethananeleven-dollarbottleofbubbly.

“Excuse me,” I say, wincing as I move, scared of getting jabbed by what is a serious boner. Like a

ridiculouslyraginghard-on.Hemustseemywideeyesbecausehelaughsloudly.

“Youlikethat,sugar?Don’tworry,I’llbelookingforyoulater.”
He closes the door and I run for Bridget. This party is too much. And I’m not being judgmental.

Insteadoffurniture,thereisapileofmattressesonthelivingroomfloor.Andawholelottanaked.

Bridgetiswearingnothingbutabodysuit.ThekindIworeasakidintheeightiesbutthathaveoddly

madeacomebackthisyear.Andherlongflowinghairswishespasthershouldersgivinghertheairofa
fun-loving-flower-child.

I’mjealous.Straightup.Becausesheissocomfortablejustputtingitalloutthere.
ButIamalsoalittlehorrifiedwiththisplaceshehasdraggedmeto.
“Where’syourskirt?”Iask,pullingherawayfromagirlwhohasherarmssnakedaroundmybestie.

“Andwhatareyoudoing?Wereyoujustmakingoutwiththatgirl?”

“Stop it, Gracie. Just free yourself.” Bridget sways to the music. Which would be fine except that

thereisnomusicplaying.

Whichiskindofcreepy.Whyistherenomusicatthisparty?Canitevenbecalledaparty?
Ilookaround,theroomisdarkandhazy,adiscoballspinsbutallitoffersintermsoflightingisa

twinklingglowtoanotherwisedizzyspace.

Theremaynotbemusic,butthereareallsortsofnoises.
Sexnoises.
“Justhavefun,”Bridgetbegs,grindingherassagainsttherandommanwhohascomeupandwrapped

hisarmsaroundher.Andthisguyisnotthepleatherguy.Thisguyisfullonnaked.Buthisboner?Let’s
justsayit’sequallyatattention.“Listen,”shesays,“You’realwayssowoundup,Gracie...tonightletit
allgo.”

IwanttotellherthatisexactlywhatIwant...butjustwithafewmoreboundaries.Likeknowingthe

nameofthepersonwhoisgropingyou.

“Whosepartyisthis?”Iask,puttingmyhandsonbothhershoulders,tryingtosteadyherasastranger

basicallytriestoass-fuckherinfrontofme.

It’sallveryconfusing.
WhenI’dshownupatBridget’sanhourago,inalittleblackdress,she’dbeenoddlyevasiveabout

thelocaleofthisshindig,butnowIneeddetails.

Also,Ineedabar.Aloudbarwithpopmusic,fullofsemi-drunkguyswhomightbeokaywithkissing

themostaverageofaveragegirlswhentheballdrops.Anice,maybeevenopen-mouthedkiss.Akissthat
justsaysHAPPYFREAKINGNEWYEAR.That’sit.That’sallIwantrightnow.

Notthissexparty.
“Isthisanorgy?”Iwhisperinhorror.
“Thatwordisso2012,Gracie,”Bridgetsays,loweringthestrapsofherleotarduntilherperkylittle

boobsarerightupinmyface.

ShemaybemyBFF,butthisisgettingwaytoopersonal.
“Igottago.”
“But we’re just about to start the New Year’s Daisy Chain,” the naked-ass-man says as if that is

somethingIshouldknowabout.“Youdon’twanttomissthat,love.”

My jaw drops, I don’t even know what a daisy chain is, exactly, I just know the I don’t want my

flowerpetalspluckedbyanyofthesepeople.

“Thisisawholenewlow,Bridget,”Ihissinherear.“AddthistothelistofreasonsIdon’tgoout

withyou.”

“What’s new? All you do is make lists and notes, Gracie. Stop recording everything that happens

aroundyouandstartliving.”

Irollmyeyes,steppingawayfromher.
“Thatisn’tnice.Ilikemynotes.Itmakesmylife--”
“Oh, Gracie,” Bridget tsk-tsks me in pity, her eyes half closed as the man cups her breasts right in

frontofme.LikeI’mnoteventhere.Ormaybethat’sthepoint.Iamhere.“Yourlifeisvanillabutmaybe
it’stimeyougotsomedoublefudge.”

Notknowingifthat’sanothersexthing,Ijustgruntindisgustandwalkaway.
Bridgetmaybemybestfriend,butsheisnotthepersonIwanttotakesexadvicefrom.

It’sbarely11pm,I’vegotmyshoesinmyhandandmylittleblackdressisastidyasitwasathome;Iam
more than ready to get out of here. I couldn’t muster the courage to go to a bar solo, so instead I’m
unlockingmyapartmentdoortogreet2017allbymylonesome.

I’mnotlookingforapity-party.
I’mmostlypissedatmyself.IshouldhaveknowngoingoutwithBridgetonNewYear’sEvewould

beaskingfortrouble.

Whycouldn’tIjusthavedoneafewshotsandloosenedupandnotbeensofreakinguptight?
Thegirlswhoplayitsafemayfinishfirstinthebooks,buttheirlivesarealsoboring.
I’mspeakingfromexperience.Obviously.
Maybethisisthewake-upcallIneed.Maybein2017Iwon’tbethesamegirlIamtoday.
AsIstruggletogetthekeyinthedoor,someone’shotbreathisonmyneck.Andinmyear.Causingall

myladypartstobasicallyseizebecauseIknowthismove.Thereisonlyonehumanbeingontheplanet
thatcanpullthatoffwithoutcomingacrossasacreeper.

Myacross-the-hallneighborCooper.Cooperwithhisgoldeneyesanddarkauburnhair,allwavyand

long.Cooperwithhisperpetualstubbleandhisslow,mid-westaccent.

Cooperwithhismouthsoclosetomyskin.
Heblowsanotherperfectpuffintomyouterear.
Imoaninwardlybecausehowcansomethingsoclichéfeelsofreakinggood?
Cooperlovestosneakuponme–well,anyone,I’mnotflatteringmyselfhere–andblowwarmairin

theirear.

Itisprettymuchthebestpick-uplineI’veevernotheard.
It gets me wet in like twelve seconds which is saying something considering I’m not your typical

vibrator-stashing,dildo-collecting,virginalheroineyoureadaboutinromancenovels.

Nope.Imayreadthosebooks,butIamjustanaveragegirlwhohashadmarginallybetterthanvanilla

sexwithatleastoneguy.

Mypussyworks,sure,butitdoesn’tget“drippingwet”everytimeabadboywalksintomybedroom.

Imaydevourthosebooksinlieuofwritingmyresearchpaperformywomen’sstudiesgraduatedegree...
butthetruthis,nomafia-motorcycle-gangex-conisknockingonmydoor.

ThoughCooperbeinghereisbetterthanthosealpha-holes.BecauseCooperisreal.
Butlet’snotgetconfused–Cooperisoneofthosealpha-holes.He’stheprototypeandcarboncopy

allrolledintoone.

“HeyCoop,”Isay,turningtofacehim,holdingmykeysateyelevel.Well,myeyelevel.Cooperis

6’4”,withachiponhisshoulderandhandsthatknowwhattheyaredoing.

Literally.Imean,he’sacatcherfortheYankees.
“Gracie,Gracie,Gracie,whatareyoudoinghomeatthishour?”He’sinablacksuit,thetieundone,

hishairfallinginhiseyes.Abottleofchampagneinhishand.

Andawomanstandingbehindhim.Awomanthatmayverywellbesugarysweetbutisalsobasically

wearinglingerie,stilettoheels,andcanbesummedupasplatinumblondeperfection.

Butofcourse.
BecauseCooperalwayshasamodel-worthy-womanonhisarm.
“Justcallingitanightearly,”Itellhim,smilingsohardmyshoulderspracticallytouchmyearsinmy

weird reaction to this encounter. My lady bits are all jumbled and confused between Bridget’s sex
dungeonandCooper’shotbreathandtherealityofmynightaloneandknowingthatCooperisaboutto
havewildsexnextdoor.

It’sallalittlecrazymaking.
So,Ijustlaughinahigh-pitchedhystericalway,turnaround,andjammykeyinthedoorwithsuch

forcethere’snochoicebutforittoopen.

“Youokaythere?”heasks.“Youcancomeover,youknow,ifyou’rejustgoingtobealone.Youcan

havesomefunwithus.When’sthelasttimeyoudidwhatyoureallywanted?”

Heraisesaneyebrow,andtheAmazonprincessinunderwearlaughs––youknowthatlaughthatis

bothnon-committedlyannoyingandyetstillmanagestoturneverysinglemanonsinceforever?

Prettymuchtheoppositeofmymaniacalsoundfromaboutsixsecondsago.

“Right.Soundssuperfun,butI’mgood,thanks.”Ismiletightly,andclosethedoorbehindme.Iknow

Cooperdoesn’treallywantmetocomeoverforsomeménage-a-trois.Hewasjustbeingnice.

There’saknockonthedoor.Isigh,notwantingtheirlove-festtobethrowninmyface,yetImanageto

openitandseeCooperstandingthere,hisdateinsidehisnowopenapartment.Iseeherstruttingdownhis
hall,droppinghersort-of-dressonthefloor.Asscheeksbare.

Wowzers.
“Yes?”Iask,tryingtoreconciletheonslaughtofnakedpeopleI’veseentonight.Ihaveneverstripped

foranyonelikethismodel-likefemaleisforCooperorlikeBridgetwasforherswingerfriends.Noteven
whenIwasinarelationship.

Cooperrestsagainstmydoorframe.“IjustwantedtowishyouaHappyNewYear,Gracie.”
“Well, thanks, Cooper. Likewise.” I swallow, not wanting to say something insane. Like, forget the

supermodel, come in here, with me. Your strait-laced neighbor who maybe wants to do something
reckless.

Of course, I don’t. Cooper is Cooper and I’m Gracie. The girl who is so out of touch with her

vajayjayit’sembarrassing.

“I’llbearoundtomorrow,soIcanhelpwiththesink.”
Iscrunchmynoseinconfusion.
“Yourleakysink?”headdsasiftryingtoclarify.
Isthatanothersexthing?Mypulsequickens.Hewantstohelpwithmyleakysink?!
Before I can figure out what it means exactly ... Cooper adds, “I saw your note on the Sup’s door.

Knowinghim,hehasn’tgottenanyonetocomefixit.ButIcanhandleadrippingfaucet.”

“Right,”Ibreathe,realizingthisisn’tsomeUrbanDictionaryslangI’moutofdateon.
My“drippingfaucet”isinmykitchen.Literally.
Eventhoughsomethingelseisdrippingrightnow––which,nevermind.OMG.Thisisanewlow.
“Seeyouthen,”Coopersays,smirkingatme,beforewalkingaway.
Ilockmydoor,dropmypurse,kickoffmyheels,andstickmyheadinthefreezer.
I’malone.
Sexuallyfrustrated.
Anddesperateforachange.
It’stimeIsatdownandmadesomeresolutions.

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Document Outline

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One

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