Seventy years old and a devoted Christian, Nana and I were an unlikely combination. I remember the first time I laid eyes on her at the funeral. Her skin was the color of coffee, and her braided hair was a mixture of salt and pepper. She came right up to me—we were the only two not crying—and as she stood by my side, she leaned toward me and said in a low voice that crying wasn’t going to bring them back. I nodded in agreement and watched as their caskets were lowered into the ground. I felt numb. Empty. And all cried out.

From that moment on, I liked her. I liked her strength and her character. But when she petitioned the state to grant her custody rather than have us go into foster care, it shocked the shit out of me.

She got her way. Macey and I lived with Nana through high school. During college and then in law school, I always had a place with her at holidays and breaks. Last year she was moved into an assisted living home. For many years she took care of me, and now I take care of her. It’s the least I can do. She’s family now.

The afternoon nurse—Trisha, I think—comes in with a tray with Nana’s meds. Something for her blood pressure, and something to help her go to the bathroom. She’s healthy as a damn horse, thank God. Trisha bends over to set down the tray, and pushes her ample cleavage into my face.

Hello there.

Once she’s gone, Nana rolls her eyes at the overeager nurse. “That hussy needs to slow down. She’s on you like stink on an ape. A man likes to chase a woman, not the other way around. You don’t want to be smothered, do you?”

“By her?” I grin crookedly. “Might not be so bad.”

“You’re wicked.”

“In all the best ways,” I assure her.

She laughs, but soon her smile fades and her expression turns more serious. “When are you going to settle down, Cameron? I’d like to see you with a nice girl. I won’t be around forever. I am eighty-one this year, you know?”

I swallow, hating that her age is something we even have to think about. She’s all I have left. Along with Macey, who I don’t see nearly enough now that she moved. “I know, Nana. I’m already planning a big surprise party.”

“It’s not a surprise if I know about it.” She raises one penciled-on eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a heart attack, or bladder failure, or whatever.” I grin at her.

“Wicked,” she says again.

I’m not sure how long I can keep dodging her questions about my future, but let’s hope for a long, long time.

Chapter Thirteen

Brielle

How in the fuck did I think this was a good idea? Never agree to sex with a good-looking, intelligent man with no hope of it leading to something.

It turns out I can’t do it.

I can’t separate sex from emotion. All day at work, my body is going through the motions, showing overpriced townhomes to eager couples, demonstrating the features like walk-in closets and electric cooktops while my mind runs rampant with thoughts of him.

Hale. His firm hands at my hips, his warm mouth on mine, the dark, hungry look in his eyes when he watches me. In his presence I feel alive and wanted, and it’s becoming addictive. I don’t know how I’m going to give him up in a few weeks. These are the terms I agreed to, so why do I feel like I’m being split in two?

My ringing cell captures my attention and I pull it from my purse.

It’s Kirby.

My stomach sinks. Before I have time to analyze my body’s reaction, I answer the call. “Hello?”

“Where ya been hiding, ladybug?” he asks with his playful chuckle that instantly sets me at ease.

“I—I don’t know.” I realize I’ve been spending all my free time with Hale, and when I’m not with him, his commanding, masculine presence dominates my thoughts. This whole thing is supposed to be about Kirby, and I’ve barely given him a passing thought the past two weeks.

“Well first, we need to make plans to hang out. And second, I’m thinking of buying a place. I need your real estate expertise. Think you could show me some condos?”

“That’s awesome, Kirby. Of course I’ll help you.”

“Cool. This weekend work for you?”

“Um…” I hesitate, my mind darting to Hale. We haven’t arranged our next lesson, but knowing they usually happen on the weekend, I don’t want to commit to plans with Kirby yet. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“’Course,” he says.

I’m trying to fit my plans for Kirby around my schedule with Hale. It should probably be the other way around, but I don’t care.

God, what is wrong with me? One night of great sex shouldn’t negate five years of unrequited love. I wasn’t thinking clearly. It must be that sub-drop thingy Hale explained to me. That’s all. I need to enjoy this time and my lessons with him. Ride the wave, so to speak, and whatever other body parts he’ll allow. Because, dear God in heaven, the man fucks like a wildcat.

“Just text me when you know your schedule,” Kirby says, pulling my mind from the gutter.

“Absolutely,” I tell him.

I hang up and check the time before stuffing my cell phone into my purse. I’m due at a brand new condo complex in the heart of the city in less than twenty minutes. It’ll be a small miracle if I make it on time.

Somehow I make it just on time, using the digital keypad on the front door to let myself in and turn on all the lights before my clients arrive.