*Jordan

His words echo in my head, and I start to panic. What really happened to your father?

Oh, god. Does he know something? How could he possibly know that Amber and Reese—

I shake my head at him.

"You don't have to talk about, Jordan." He takes my face to kiss my forehead. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked such a question. I'm an idiot. You should ignore me. All the blood leaves my head for my dick, and it turns me into a moron."

"But what do you mean?" My heart races. I can see my sisters on the floor, yelling at me to get out, my father's feet and legs stretched out, twitching. They tell me to call the ambulance. I run. I can't find the phone.

"I'm sorry. I remember hearing he died, when we were still both in school. I know your sisters were a little older, but that things were hard for all of you. I couldn't remember how he died, but I never should have brought it up."

The tension unwinds in my muscles and snaking nausea in my gut loosens its grip. The room comes back into focus. Everything is all right.

"Heart attack," I manage to say. "We were at home one night, and he fell. By the time the ambulance got there, he was gone. And we were stuck with a bill we didn't know how to pay."

"Jordan, I'm so sorry. You brought up our pasts, and I thought maybe yours wouldn't be as bad as mine. Shit, I was wrong. It's even worse, and I'm an ass for asking you to talk about it."

"No. No, you aren't an ass. I came here tonight to get some things off my chest. I want to talk about it. And I want you to talk about yours. This" I motion at him and the room, "isn't made to last. We need to take advantage of every second together. Before it ends. So here's the truth. I crushed on you so hard, starting with the seventh grade."

"Are you serious?" I shake my head in embarrassment. "I don't remember noticing you until my junior year. You were a sophomore, right? One year younger?"

"Yeah. I remember you from the first day in math class. That same day, there was a school rally or something. I remember some speeches and the cheerleaders encouraging the girls to try out for the team, and I remember watching you one row over."

"But we didn't have any classes together, that's for sure."

"Wrong again." I run my fingernails up his chest, and he inhales sharply, nostrils flaring. His abs tighten and I lick my lips. "We were in pre-algebra, but only for a couple of weeks, then later in history, my sophomore year. Apparently, you kept getting into fights and not turning in any homework, so they put you in a special program....for kids with difficulties."

"Difficulties?" He chuckles wryly. "That's one way of describing things." He takes a deep breath, eyes focused on the wall. "The truth wasn't complicated. My step-dad hated me from day one, since he hooked up with my mother when I was four. And my only recourse was to make him hate me more. After years of telling me I was a useless piece of shit, he started treating me like one. Maybe I even started believing him."

"Cole..."

"It's all right. I can talk about it. But you can see that school was low on my list of things to worry about."

"I never judged you. I could see there was something else going on—I recognized my own suffering in you, if you want to know the truth. And I admired you for being able to shout out your pain instead of closing it up inside." My stomach is a cold stone as I confess these things, but his arm stays close around me, protective and warm.

"Fat good it did me. I was shooting myself in the foot over and over being a dumbshit."

"No, you were communicating the only way you knew how, the ways you were taught. As a child and then a teenager, you were reaching out to others. If you were destructive and no adults stepped in to figure out why, then that's on them. Trust me on this one. I have academic diplomas to prove I know what I'm talking about."

"Oh really? Did you know I find educated, smart women a total turn on?"

"So it wasn't just my gorgeous tits that attracted you? It was my mind?" I ask.

He flips around to lean over me and leer at my chest, licking his lips and crooning in exaggeration. "Oh my fucking god, you have awesome tits, you're right! Thank you for pointing them out to me."

I pull his head to my chest, laughing and he cuddles me, our legs tangled up. Growling in mock ferocity, he nuzzles my breasts.

"Jordan," he says, "I can't tell you how refreshing it is to hear you say that. I've been blamed for everything going wrong in my mother's life since my dad cheated on her and then died in an accident when I was a baby."

"I'm so sorry, Cole. I wish I had better words, but that sucks and she was wrong for doing that to you. Who helped you turn things around? Your uncle?"

"He was the beginning of it, yeah." Cole stretches back, putting his arm under his head to prop himself up a little.

I can't help but notice how his bicep pops and the beautiful length of his chest is exposed. Heat stirs again in my core. This man...

"When I was kicked out of the house, I barely knew him, but I showed up on his doorstep, angry and bruised and he took me in without a second of hesitation. He said he loved me no matter what, even if he wouldn't take my shit, and that he'd always be there for me." Cole's eyes gleam with unshed tears. "I didn't believe him. I kept getting in trouble and hanging out with assholes who I hated and probably hated me. For two years, I listened to him say he loved me, I was a good kid, and I would figure things out and find happiness. I didn't believe him. Then one day, I asked myself why I was wasting my time with the losers in this town and I decided it was time to leave. I was nineteen. I had finally decided to stop shooting myself in the foot and do something with my life."

"So now you drive around enticing unsuspecting brunettes back to your hotel rooms for great sex every weekend?"

"No, Jordan. I don't do that." He tried to suppress a smile. "I invite women of all different hair colors."

I hit him with a pillow. "Cocky..."

"You have no idea." He wrestles me until I let him kiss me, and I take the moment to glide my hands to his ass for a good squeeze.

"All right," he says, breathless. "I've talked enough. What about you?"

"Nope, not yet. What do you do for a living? I hope it isn't just finding lonely women to take care of."

"Not exactly, although I did recently inherit my uncle's widow."

"Your aunt? What?"

He traces the curve of my jaw to my chin and then brushes my lips with his fingertip, studying my face. "I wouldn't call her my aunt, I never met before the reading of the will. But that's a story for another time. So. Work. I renovate cars. When I took off, I had no money, no skills, no plans, nothing but the name of some guy in California who needed some help with his construction company. But when I got there, he was dead."

"Yikes. What did you do?"

"I got lucky. He had a cousin who needed help in his auto garage. Like I said, I had no skills, but I caught on fast. From there, whenever it was time to move on, I'd ask around and someone always had a cousin, or a guy they knew from high school, or an ex-brother-in-law, or once a cousin's ex-brother-in-law's sister's girlfriend. She was the best mechanic for old Fords I ever had the privilege to work with. By the time I circled the country back to California two years ago, I was ready to open my own shop."

"No more trouble after that?"

"Not the kind you'd go to jail for."

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to see it he's serious. He seems so open and honest. There has to be catch, right?

Unless there isn't a catch, and he just happens to be a man who decided to take his life in his own hands and live it on his terms—responsibly. I suppose such men exist. "Cole, I'm sorry about your uncle. This trip must be so hard, for so many reasons."

"It's actually been better than I ever imagined." He kisses my forehead.

My heart splits wide open and everything festering and ugly that lives deep in my chest spills out—and evaporates. I blink back tears, not wanting him to think I'm sad. The ugliness will certainly come back. The pain that Trey caused by stealing our daughter can't be erased. But for one night, for a little while, I get to feel happy and free.

I roll on top of him, straddling his stomach. I pin his arms above the pillow and look him over like my prize cake I want to eat.

Because yes, I intend to enjoy this man some more. "Better than you've ever imagined, huh?"

"And it keeps getting better."

"You've got that right." I grind my hips into him and lean down for a kiss. This is the kind of trouble I need.

*** Maybe we all need a little trouble.... Thanks for reading!!!! Don't forget to hit the star! ***