I’m not sure how I slept through the night but when I woke up, I felt wonderfully rested—I was also awfully late.

I called Mary Anne who had left five messages on my answering machine and assured her I was fine and coming in before lunch. 

I got dressed in a hurry and when I got downstairs, the rug and the blood were gone, there was a couple of cleaning ladies vacuuming and the window was temporarily sealed close with industrial-strength plastic.

One of the cleaning ladies told me they’d be done in about half an hour and that it was all paid for. My cellphone rang and it was Tristan.

“How’s the wrist? Did you sleep well?” he asked and I quelled the stirring inside me that started at the sound of his voice. I recalled how he kissed me last night. 

“The wrist is fine and yes, I slept well,” I answered as I rummaged through the kitchen for a glass of water. “How did you know I just got up? You can’t read my mind from a great distance, can you?”

I checked over my shoulder to make sure the cleaning ladies didn’t overhear my conversation.

“Not normally but minds I’ve been more acquainted with tend to be easier to connect to,” he answered. “Leave the house unlocked. Stigger is on his way with the installer for the window. I don’t want him to have to break down your door.”

“Okay, I will.” I stepped towards the kitchen window that looked out to the backyard. I couldn’t see any signs of the demon’s cremation. “About last night’s visitor. Has it been taken care of? I don’t see any—”

“Arabella’s taken care of it. You won’t see a speck,” he assured me.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. I paused. “By the way, how’s your door? I’m really sorry for—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted gently. “Arabella’s taken care of that too.”

“Is there anything that girl can’t do?” I asked but I was smiling. Thank God I didn’t have to pay for it and that Tristan didn’t have to have a door with a gunshot hole on the day of the Mansion’s opening.

“She’s special and she likes you,” he said. “I have to go, Ollie. Call me if there’s anything else you need.”

The withdrawal again. I pressed my lips together and nodded although he couldn’t see me. “Okay. Thanks again, Tristan. Bye.”

I bid the cleaning ladies goodbye and hopped into my pick up truck. 

Mary Anne and Patrick gave me a quick look-over when I bustled into the bakeshop but said nothing. 

The rest of the early afternoon had been busy but to my relief no one mentioned anything about last night’s events. It made sense. The Mansion and my house were on opposite sides of the lake, surrounded by trees and vast farmlands. They wouldn’t have heard—I hoped.

Finally, when the lunchers cleared, I managed to apologize to Mary Anne and Patrick and made up the excuse that I wasn’t feeling well last night, sprained my wrist when I fell off the bed and had trouble sleeping so when I finally did sleep, I overslept.

Mary Anne simply put a hand against my forehead and neck and Patrick ordered me to sit down and eat the roast beef sandwich he made for me. When there was only Lucy Clarence left on a corner having her coffee and a slice of raspberry-chocolate truffle cake while reading a Harlequin romance book, both Mary Anne and Patrick sat down with me with cups of freshly brewed coffee.

We were making final plans for the Summer Concert that weekend. The town held it every year just a week before the first day of summer. It was held in Southland Park and it was very popular, attended by local bands all over different states, their groupies and the tourists who have come in for a season of fishing, boating and lakeside fun.

All the local stores could set up shop around the concert area and we always do it every year.

When I got home, the window was brand new and a rug close to the color of my old one was in place.

I sighed with relief. Debating with myself for a few minutes, I finally decided to dial Tristan’s number as I was changing into my bed clothes. 

“I prefer if you sleep without anything on,” was the first thing he said after he picked up. I could detect the smirk on his face.

“Stop reading my mind, Tristan,” I snapped at him, slipping on a robe as if he could actually see me. “If you keep doing it, I’m never talking to you again. Do you hear me?”

He sighed. “Loud and clear, sweetheart.”

I blushed at the endearment but quickly reminded myself that Tristan was the supernatural version of Casanova.

“I just wanted to tell you that the window’s done, the rug’s been replaced and all broken glass has been vacuumed. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said in satisfaction. “Is the wrist doing better?”

“Yes, the pain’s almost gone.” 

“Good.”

I clutched the phone and tried to think of why else I called him. I came up blank. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say so I’m not going to take up more of your time. Goodnight, Tristan.”

“Goodnight, Ollie.”

The next day we were busy. We closed up the bakeshop after lunch and then set up our little booth at the park. The concert was a big hit and the crowd was having lots of fun.

The last person I expected to see walk past was Tristan.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted with one of his heart-stopping smiles and both Mary Anne and Patrick greeted back and waved at him enthusiastically as if he was some kind of a celebrity.

He was wearing a dark gray shirt and jeans, his blond hair slicked back and his tall, muscular form standing out. That tingle stirred inside me again but I put on a straight face.

“Hey,” I said back to him, aware of the giggling and swooning girls who walked past him. He ignored them. “What are you doing here?”

“Participating in this fun community activity,” he answered with a crooked smile. “I didn’t realize Willow was such an energetic town.”

We’ve also scoped the area and no signs of unwanted guests, so far, he added silently.

Patrick held out a little box to Tristan. “Here you go, Tristan. Have a sampler. It has all of Ollie’s favorite cookies in it. If you don’t have a sweet tooth, you’ll develop one after you’ve had them.”

My cheeks warmed. “It’s alright, Tristan. You don’t have to—”

“I’ll take them. Thank you,” Tristan said with an indulgent smile as he opened the box and took out a New York cheesecake cookie. He took a quick bite and nodded appreciatively. “It tastes just as sweet but tart as you are.”

My eyes widened in mortification but he laughed lightly and Patrick and Mary Anne laughed along as if it was an obvious joke. 

“I mean, it reminds me of the kind of girl you are—sweet and tart,” he rephrased, winking before turning to leave.

A few minutes later, Stigger and Cage stopped by. Cage still looked grumpy and said nothing but Stigger had a big smile and high-fived me. I made quick, vague introductions.

When Mary Anne and Patrick looked at me questioningly after the two left, I just shrugged and said, “Tristan’s staff. I met them when we talked about that job proposal he had for me.”

Half an hour later, when it was fully dark, Irina and Arabella stopped by. Irina was a little more casual, to fit in, I guess, and instead of one of her elegant dresses, she had black trousers on, a red silk shirt and strappy black heels. Arabella was in a pink summer dress, her hair in pigtails.

I briefly wondered if my two friends noticed their unusual paleness but if they did, they didn’t say anything and just politely greeted them when I made the introductions.

Irina just stuck her nose up in the air while Arabella beamed at me and clutched my hand in greeting. 

“Ollie, it’s good to see you,” the girl said. “You look very pretty in that purple dress. I love the little yellow flowers on it.”

I smiled at the young vampire who really seemed like a child most of the time. “I’m glad you approve. I like that pink dress too. It looks very sweet on you.”

“Thank you. Irina thinks I should dress up more elegantly but I do prefer this fashion,” she said as she did a little pirouette. 

I glanced at Irina who looked bored. “Would either of you care for a sweet treat?”

Arabella looked at the variety in front of her and grimaced apologetically. “I’m afraid we don’t fancy sweet food much.”

When Mary Anne looked surprised, Arabella hastily added, “Gluten-free diet only. Sorry.”

When they were gone, I vaguely explained to Mary Anne and Patrick again that they were also Tristan’s staff except for Arabella who was his niece. 

Damn. These lies keep piling up.

Just as the concert was coming towards the end, Scott stopped by.

I smiled at him, glad to see he looked like he was back in shape.

He was tall, about six feet, with broad shoulders, light brown hair and brown eyes. 

“You look like you’ve recovered,” I told him, looking around him to see if Heather was tailing at his heels like she always did but there were no signs of her. “Heather came by the bakeshop last time and said you were under the weather.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Just a little flu, no big deal.”

Heather was a sore topic for the two of us. Mostly it was because after he came back to Willow, he wanted to get back together with me and I said no. Two weeks later, he was parading Heather all over town, to make me jealous at first, I think, but since then she hasn’t left his side. It’s been almost four years and in that time, she’d moved in with him, called him her husband every now and then especially in public even though to  my knowledge, which Scott often volunteered, he’d never asked her to marry him, and has been trying since to get herself pregnant by him.

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “What can I do you for you then?”

His expression looked serious as if something was bothering him.

When he didn’t say anything, I prodded, “Scott?”

“Why is that new guy in town always hanging around with you? He seems to be paying you a lot of attention,” he blurted out with a straight face. 

“What are you talking about?” I asked carefully. 

“That new guy, Tristan something,” he expounded, looking over his shoulder just as Mayor Anthony Hanker borrowed the microphone from a band singer for a quick intermission and beckoned Tristan to come up on stage. “The one who bought the Ruddard Mansion and who’s a Las Vegas casino mogul.”

“He’s just new in town and wanted to know some people,” I explained to him as casually as I could. “He’d offered to carry my treats at the restaurant in the Mansion on consignment. Other than that, he’s just being friendly.” 

Scott didn’t look convinced. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

I pursed my lips, not liking the interrogation. “How he looks at me isn’t really something you should concern yourself with, Scott. I know you’re looking out for me but I’m fine.”

We both diverted to the stage again as Mayor Hanker started speaking, introducing Tristan who waved congenially to the crowd and mentioning the opening of the Mansion next week.

“I don’t trust him, that’s all,” Scott said, meeting my eye meaningfully. “Let me know if he bothers you.”

When Scott was gone, Mary Anne shook her head. “Scott’s got to make up his mind at some point. He’s still pining after you while wasting his life away on that bitch of a girlfriend he has.”

“Take it easy on him,” I told her, watching Scott’s retreating figure. “Since his Dad died and left him the dealership and his Mom being sick and Heather not making things any easier for him, he’s just got a lot on his plate.”

For the rest of the night, it bothered me that I felt like I lied to Scott about Tristan and me being nothing more than friends because technically, that was the closest thing to what we really were, two passionate kisses aside. 

I really have to have my head screwed on right. If this carried on, I’d be in a much more complicated situation than I can get away with.

It was about ten-thirty when we started cleaning up. The last of the bands was playing, the crowd had thinned and we were out of goodies.

We were loading up Patrick’s much bigger and nicer pick up truck when Tristan showed up.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go for a little stroll with me for the rest of this beautiful evening,” he said, smiling deeply and nodding at Mary Anne and Patrick who looked at me curiously. “I’ll drive you home myself.”

“Um, I...”

“Go ahead, dearie,” Patrick said as he took the empty cooler chest from my hands. “Mary Anne and I will manage wonderfully. You should relax a bit. You haven’t taken a day off this week.”

I turned to Mary Anne for help but she was smiling mischievously. 

I cast an irritated look at Tristan that only he would notice before resigning to my fate for the evening.

“Alright, then,” I told the two matchmakers. “Call me if you need me.”

“Have fun!” Mary Anne cheerfully said as Tristan took my hand and led me away.

He didn’t let go of my hand and even though my rational self was telling me to keep a safe distance, I couldn’t pull it away.

I noticed some girls we passed who were smiling like lovestruck fools at Tristan who barely noticed them, and then glared at me scornfully.

I didn’t say anything but Tristan squeezed my hand and held it against his stomach, displaying it further. 

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To my car,” he answered.

“This is starting to sound like a conversation we’ve had before,” I said warily as I spotted his Range Rover in the distance. “Where are you taking me?”

He stopped walking for a bit and smiled down at me. “I thought you might want to see the Mansion. It’s been completed and fully-furnished now. I thought you’d want to see if it stayed true to the original.”

I couldn’t help a grin. I definitely wanted to see it.

“That’s all we’re doing. Right?” I asked, slanting him a suspicious look. 

He laughed and continued walking. “That and anything else we might feel like doing. Don’t look horrified now. I’m just teasing.”

He opened the car door for me like a gentleman and the moment we pulled out into the main road, he took my hand again and held it in his own.

I stared at our clasped hands, very confused.

“You’re holding my hand way too much,” I finally blurted out, making me immediately wish I had phrased it differently. 

He looked down at our hands and smiled but didn’t let it go. “I kind of like it. It’s very strange. I’m very attuned to your thoughts and emotions even though I’m not actively reading your mind. It’s like a radio signal I’m picking up unintentionally and when I touch you, the frequency steadies and the sound comes out much more clearly.”

My brows furrowed. “I’m not really sure I want you knowing what I think and feel all the time. It’s already bad enough you can read my mind whenever you want.”

He glanced at me, some confusion of his own showing. “Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s disconcerted by it. I’ve been used to blocking everyone out unless I need to know something. With you, it’s like the radio turns on automatically, even from a distance. I can feel it when you wake up or go to sleep. I can hear your anxiety like static in the air. I can hear you laugh or smile in your thoughts. It’s very weird.”

“Not even my brother can be that accurate,” I muttered with a disbelieving shake of my head. “How do you turn it off? You’re the only one with something to gain from it and I feel very exposed.”

He looked hurt for a second but then he relaxed immediately. “I don’t know if there’s even a way to turn it off given that it’s never happened before. And when I go in, I can only read what’s there at the moment. There’s no search engine where I can type in what I want to know and it tells me what you’ve thought about it. Don’t worry, it’ll come handy in the future, I’m sure.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, in that case, stay out of my head for now.”

I wasn’t a person of many secrets. I didn’t really have many until Tristan and his gang showed up one day. There wasn’t anything valuable that anyone could learn from me but I liked my private thoughts to stay private. It was the only real freedom I had. 

“I’ll do my best,” he assured me with a light squeeze of my hand which he still kept clasped in his.

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the Mansion. I noticed that the road had been paved from the turn off to the gates which had also been refinished. The sign hasn’t been installed yet but he said it’ll be there in a couple of days. The landscaping had all been tidied up and the house was gleaming even under the pale moonlight and the exterior lighting.

“Where’s everyone?” I asked as we walked to the door.

“Out in town or in the woods, whichever they prefer,” he answered as the magically-fixed French doors automatically opened for us. “They have the night off.”

I paused in alarm. “So vampires and a witch and a werewolf and whatever Stigger is, are out on the prowl around town tonight?”

He smiled. “We’ve lived in far more populous areas, Ollie. They know what they’re doing and they won’t harm anybody. It’s one of my rules and they’re wise enough not to break it.”

“Do you really own several casinos in Las Vegas?” I asked curiously as I walked around the foyer that now sparkled and commanded attention with all of its high-end finishes. “People keep telling me and I don’t really know.”

He laughed and stood in the middle of the room. “I do own a casino and hotel in Las Vegas where I mostly stay but not several of them. I’m not that greedy. But I have acquired a handful of properties in this lifetime.”

I turned around sharply. “And exactly how long a lifetime have you had? I suspect you don’t have the same mortality as regular humans.”

He looked away as if embarrassed by the question. “I’ve been around for a while.”

“How long is a while?” I pressed.

He finally met my eyes and he answered without pause, “Twelve hundred years. I’m an immortal, Ollie.”

My jaw dropped. “No kidding. Wow. You’re very... old.”

He grimaced. “I grew up at the same rate as a human child but after reaching my prime, I’ve practically stopped aging. It’s been a very long life for me.”

I lost all interest in the house and I slowly walked up to him, studying his face as if seeing it for the first time. I was staring and talking to a twelve-hundred-year-old man but every feature of him suggested he was only maybe about in his very early thirties.

“You sure look good for a man your age,” I said with a small smile. “I can’t imagine how it would feel experiencing the passage of a life that’s been changed so much in the last several centuries. Imagine the inventions and discoveries. The growth of commerce. The establishment and popularity of democracy. The landing of man on the moon. The—”

He caught both my hands and held them against his chest. “It wasn’t always a positively exciting life. There were wars and plagues and hunger. But yes, a long life definitely gives one a perspective on things.”

I bit my bottom lip. “You probably shouldn’t have told me all that though. It’s one of your otherworldly secrets I could get into trouble for.”

“I wanted you to know to help you understand better,” he said, his eyes darkening to an almost indigo color. His thumbs gently rubbed the sides of my hands as he kept them pressed against him. “You either have to know nothing or everything to survive in the Other World.”

“But I’m not part of the Other World,” I said slowly. “I’m a regular human being.”

He smiled a little. “I don’t believe that one bit. There’s nothing regular about you at all.”

Worried that I was a breath away from losing myself and kissing Tristan again, I cleared my throat and pulled away, moving further into the mansion to survey the rest of the restoration. 

He followed quietly, offering brief explanations to some of my questions.

But as we went around for about half an hour, my mind couldn’t shake off the preoccupation of Tristan’s lips and how they invited me to touch and taste them again when he stood so close to me earlier.

I’ve never been so acutely attracted to anyone like this before.

“Would you like to see the Lounge?” he asked, leading me to the sunken den which now had a sign beside the door that said The Lounge, Music Bar. “It’s pretty much just a small, cozy bar where guests could drink and mingle. We’ve already commissioned a talented, local jazz musician to come in every weekend and we’ll fly in some out-of-town performers every now and then.”

I marveled at the dark and rich wood paneling inside, the opulent decor and the decadent mood. There was a long bar just next to the entrance, a dozen round tables were scattered around the room and a small stage was set at a corner. The room was located at the back of the house and I haven’t really seen it from the outside to notice any difference.

“It looks amazing,” I said, touching the smooth and shiny surface of the bar counter. “I’ve never seen what it looked like inside before. Albert Ruddard would step in here with my father and some of their friends and close the doors. As a child, I always thought they had some big secret only grown up men could know about.”

“You never know. This house is full of secrets.”

I lifted myself on a swiveling stool by the bar and turned to him. “Speaking of secrets, how did you find out about the secret basement? Dad said it wasn’t shown in any of the plans and with most of Ruddard’s private collections still in tact the last time I was down there, I don’t think the bank knew about it at all or they would’ve all sold them off after the foreclosure.”

He stood and was silent for a long time that I thought he either didn’t hear me or he didn’t want to answer.

“I was here once about eleven years ago,” he finally said, his eyes locking with mine as if to secure I let him finish before saying anything. “Albert Ruddard had stayed in a resort I owned in Maui where I met him. He was a good businessman and we got along well. He invited me to be a sponsor in a children’s charity gala his wife was hosting and I came to the party. I met your father then. Albert couldn’t resist showing me his precious collections down in the basement and that’s how I knew about it. I didn’t really have an interest in expanding my business to Willow but there’s been more otherworldly traffic here in the last couple of years and the Mansion was on sale and offered the perfect amenities that I finally decided to buy it.”

I blinked, my eyes watering. “You’d met my father?”

He nodded almost solemnly. “Yes. He was a good man. He was a happy man and he loved his family very much. I could tell by the way he spoke about you.”

I brushed the tears back and shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t remember seeing you in the gala at all. I was there and I’m sure I would’ve remembered your face.”

He smiled softly. “I stayed in here, in the den, mostly. I usually like keeping a low profile because I need people to not remember me from before and meet me ten years later and I don’t look a day older.”

“Did you see me?” I asked.

“From a distance, yes,” he answered after a short pause. “Your father and I stepped out to the main hall for a quick hello to some people and he pointed you out to me. You were sixteen and you were wearing a short, pale gold dress with a fluffy tulle skirt, your hair up in a bun with a gold clip on it that for a second I thought you were some kind of fairy ballerina. You looked like a dream.”

My mouth opened for something to say but no sound came out. He described my dress exactly the way I remembered it. My mother had made it for me and it was still in my closet.

He took a few steps towards me but I held hand up to stop him, now thoroughly confused.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked. “You didn’t say anything about it the first time we officially met.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t remember right away. You’re a grown woman now whereas you were just a girl then that after a few moments of admiring you, I immediately forced you out of my head. When I did remember, I didn’t think it mattered and I didn’t want any more questions raised about how I met you or anyone else in Willow more than ten years ago and here I was exactly the same as they remembered me.”

“So why are you telling me this now?” I asked again, my heart starting to race.

“I’ll be damned if I know,” he said before resting his hands on my waist and lifting me off the stool to plant me right in front of him with no other recourse for escape. 

He cupped my face, his eyes seeming to memorize every inch of it. He raised his other hand up to brush my hair away. “You’re more beautiful than I remember, Ollie. I never imagined I’d have you right here like this in the same house where I first laid eyes on you eleven years ago.”

There was something about this window to the past that he opened to me that made me feel exquisitely closer to him. Maybe nostalgia was causing my heart to fill with an emotion so overwhelming it would burst free. Nevertheless, I lifted my own arms and put them around his neck, closing my eyes and inhaling that familiar scent of a man connecting my past to the present and possibly the future.

The kiss was slow this time—tender, even.

I once thought Tristan an impatient man but with the life he’s led, I understood he could be very patient. He took his sweet time outlining the shape of my mouth with his tongue, kissing and suckling on my lips as if they offered nourishment, and held me steady in his arms as if he was planning on doing this all night.

He trailed light, feathery kisses from my jaw down to my neck, extending them further along my shoulder as he pushed the sleeve of my dress down to offer him more skin to touch with his devoted lips. 

I was on fire.

That warmth between my legs spread around my hips and up the pit of my stomach. 

I couldn’t think.

My hands moved from his neck down to his firm chest and further down until I could grasp the hem of his shirt and pull up.

In one deft move, he pulled his shirt off and I trembled slightly as my fingertips traced the hard ridges of his muscled chest and ripped stomach.

An impatient, lustful grow sounded from beneath his chest as he pushed the top of my dress down, his fingers catching the zipper in the back and yanking it down in haste.

The swell of my breasts heaved over my rose-colored brassiere and Tristan’s hands found them, his fingers smoothing over the sensitive skin.

His mouth moved down from my shoulder to the top of my breasts, his breath hot and moist.

A moan escaped my lips as I threw my head back, aching for him to touch more of me.

Then suddenly he straightened and I pulled my head up to look at his face.

“Stigger and Cage are coming,” he said in a raspy breath before grabbing his shirt from the floor and scooping me up in his arms. 

In a blur of motion that sent my head spinning further, he flashed out of the den and down into the secret basement and to his bedroom, plopping me down the large, bouncy bed just as the door behind him shut.

I felt very dizzy.

Before I could compose myself, he was on top of me, resuming his scorching kisses down my throat and the top of my breasts.

But as the dizziness cleared, my rational thoughts flooded back and I gasped and pushed him away.

My nudge did little to move him but my reaction was enough to make him back up and assess the situation.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression strained yet urgent. He reached to touch me again but I moved away, clutching the top of my dress to cover my chest. 

“I can’t do this,” I choked out, my throat dry from the almost delirious heat that had possessed me. “Not with you, not in this same bed where I just saw you banging a crazy demon girl just a week ago!”

His brows knitted in confusion. “So would you rather we move to another room? Or should I replace the bed?”

My cheeks flamed as I scrambled to pull my dress back up and get decent. “Neither. We shouldn’t be doing this at all. Period.”

“Why not?” he asked, getting off the bed and scratching his ear. I looked away to keep myself from staring at his magnificent upper torso. 

“Because we shouldn’t!” I snapped, wishing I had a more substantial argument than that. “I’m not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with guys she barely knows.”

He scoffed. “You know way more than you’re supposed to about me, Ollie. And I’ve been in your head. I know you better than most people.”

“That doesn’t count because that’s cheating,” I countered, struggling to zip the dress back up to no avail.

Groaning, he pulled me up to my feet and I started to wiggle away but held me in place with a hand on my shoulder and zipped my dress back up.

Then he turned me around to face him, his face inches away from mine. He made no attempt to disguise the smoldering desire in his eyes.

“Your body is telling you what you want and my body has told you it’s willing to provide,” he said in a husky voice. “You have to listen to it some time.”

I opened my mouth bite his head off but he caught me off guard with a quick kiss, followed by a couple other brief, teasing yet appeasing ones. 

I gave up. He was not going to be swayed to think otherwise.

He cupped my chin to make me look at him and I scowled and he smiled. 

Then some of my anger chipped away when he pressed his lips against my forehead and held me close for a few minutes, without saying or doing anything to further suggest his obvious, lustful intentions.

My eyes closed briefly, my cheek pressed against his smooth, hard chest.

This was all very strange—this inappropriate yet comfortably intimate relationship with the last guy I should be having it with. But Tristan had this talent of driving me absolutely crazy, then insanely wild with passion and then reducing me to a case of warm and fuzzies—all in the entire week I’ve known him. 

“Come on, there’s one last thing I want to show you before I drive you home,” he said, finally stepping back much to my secret disappointment and pulling his shirt on. He took my hand and led me out of the bedroom. “I don’t want you to think I only brought you here to seduce you senseless.”

I followed him to the room that held Albert Ruddard’s vintage gun selection.

“Choose whatever you like,” he said, waving a hand grandiosely towards the display cases. “I’ll have the transfer paperwork done up by my lawyer since they’re all registered to Ruddard but with the purchase of the mansion and all of its contents, they automatically become mine.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. “But why would you want to give them away? Don’t you want to keep them? They’re worth a lot of money and they’re very handy for the kind of folks you deal with in your business.”

He raised a brow in amusement. “Do you really think we have a need for firearms? We can sufficiently defend ourselves without them, I assure you, sweetheart.”

I blushed at the sweetheart nickname again and shrugged. “I see your point.”

I excitedly looked around the room. “Can I really take anything I like?”

He nodded. “You can take all of them if you want. You might want to leave them here though for storage and safekeeping. But you can come anytime to look at them or take them out for practice.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “This isn’t just a ploy to make me come back here all the time, is it?”

He laughed. “Partly it is but I know you’re fond of guns so instead of disposing them, I figured you’d like to keep them.”

I giggled and did a little jump. “I would love to! Oh, Tristan. Thank you!”

Before I could stop myself, I skipped towards him and kissed his cheek and I swear his eyes sparkled at that.

“Anything you would like to take with you tonight?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” I told him, breathless with excitement. “It’s all too overwhelming right now. I’ll come back and look through them.”

“Alright. Just call me and I’ll escort you down here,” he said, offering an arm and tilting his head towards the door. “Home, then?”

“Yes, please,” I said with a sweet smile, looping my arm through his.

We didn’t see Cage or Stigger on our way out. 

Tristan, who I’m actually finding to be quite old-fashioned on a lot of things, held the door open for me as I climbed into his Range Rover. He got in, rolled the windows down and drove out towards my house.

The evening was quiet and warm, the sound of the farmlands, crickets and frogs filling the air.

I turned towards the window to hide my smile. As much as I’d enjoyed it, I didn’t want Tristan to think he got me in the bag when it came to his sexual goals with me. The tour and the gun collection though really made my night.

“You’re happy,” he commented and I turned around to catch him glance at me.

I pouted. “I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head unless completely necessary and a matter of life and death.”

His mouth tilted slightly on a corner. “I’m not reading your mind. It’s rolling off of you. Your thoughts, although I don’t know what they actually are, sound like fluid music flowing through you. So you are happy?”

I bit my lip. “I am. It was a great night. I saw the house like I remember it, you gave me a precious, vintage gun collection and you know, we hung out.”

He laughed softly. “We hung out. I guess you can call parts of it that.”

I eyed him meaningfully. “Well, what exactly would you call it, Tristan? Do you have a name for this thing we’re doing?”

I don’t know where I found the courage to ask but the moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized I wanted to know before this went any further.

His expression hardened and I could immediately sense the change in his mood. “I’d call it mutual attraction between two consenting adults.”

I smirked. “Right. It’s exactly the same thing my brother calls the casual hook-ups he has with different girls. It’s classic male romanticism, I guess.”

“I’m not going to plead an exception,” he replied, his voice hard. “I am what I am.”

I didn’t say anything anymore after that. I got the answer I needed and Tristan couldn’t be any more straightforward than that.

He pulled up in front of my house but didn’t make a move to get out.

“If your car continues to have issues, call me,” he said out of the blue. “The engine’s been replaced and everything else has been serviced. You should have no issues for a while.”

I gaped at him. “You had my car engine replaced without telling me? When did you do it?”

“Today,” he answered with a shrug and gestured to my pick up truck which sat on the car port outside of my garage, looking exactly the way I left it this morning when Patrick picked me up. “Stigger came and took it after you left and drove it back. You can’t be driving in the backroads here with an engine that’s on the verge of dropping dead for good.”

I rolled my eyes. “This is Willow, Tristan, not the middle of nowhere. There’s cell reception and I can call a tow-truck if I need one. How much was it? I’ll pay you back—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he interrupted, sounding offended. “Be glad I didn’t buy you a new one.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. Was he always going to be this complicated and infuriating?

“I’ll see you to your door,” he said before hopping out of the car and holding the door open while I got out. He walked me to the front porch, keeping his distance.

When we arrived at the front door, I stopped and looked up at him. Despite everything else tonight, he had been good to me and I couldn’t ignore my manners. “Thank you for everything. I do appreciate your concern. And I did have a good night, all things considered.”

He barely smiled. “Think nothing of it. Goodnight, Ollie.”

“Goodnight, Tristan,” I said before stepping inside the house and closing the door behind me.

I stood and waited until I heard the car start but I paused when I didn’t hear it leave.

I brushed the curtain on the front window aside slightly to look out and saw that Tristan was still sitting there inside his car. I couldn’t see his face but he seemed to be staring at the house.

I wondered if anything was wrong but as I reached for the front door, the car pulled out of the driveway that there was nothing but dust and darkness when I stepped out on the front porch.

I didn’t understand why but my heart weighed like stone inside of me at the realization that I was too late and Tristan was gone.