Can't Hardly Breathe

New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter returns with an irresistible Original Heartbreakers story about a woman who’s never felt desired and the man who wants her more than air to breathe...

Bullied in high school, Dorothea Mathis’s past is full of memories she’d rather forget. But there’s one she can’t seem to shake—her long-standing crush on former army ranger Daniel Porter. Now that the sexy bad boy has started using her inn as his personal playground, she should kick him out...but his every heated glance makes her want to join him instead.

Daniel returned to Strawberry Valley, Oklahoma, to care for his ailing father and burn off a little steam with no strings attached. Though he craves curvy Dorothea night and day, he’s as marred by his past as she is by hers. The more he desires her, the more he fears losing her.

But every sizzling encounter leaves him desperate for more, and soon Daniel must make a choice: take a chance on love or walk away forever.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter

“Showalter...rocks me every time!”

—Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

—Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

“Sassy, smart characters and an expertly woven, unconventional plot, The Closer You Come showcases Gena Showalter in all her shining talent.”

—Kristan Higgins, New York Times bestselling author

“Showalter makes romance sizzle on every page!”

—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

“Emotional, heart-tugging, kept me turning the pages!”

—Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author

“With compelling stories and memorable characters, Gena Showalter never fails to dazzle.”

—Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author

“The Showalter name on a book means guaranteed entertainment.”

—RT Book Reviews

“The versatile Showalter...once again shows that she can blend humor and poignancy while keeping readers entertained from start to finish.”

—Booklist on Catch a Mate

“Gena Showalter is a romantic genius.”

—San Francisco Book Review

Can’t Hardly Breathe

Gena Showalter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Jill Monroe, the best friend a girl could have.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

SOME PEOPLE EXCELLED at high school. Other people...didn’t.

Dorothea Mathis sucked so hard she made everyone else in the “didn’t” category look like rock stars.

Fighting the urge to vomit, she entered the hallowed hallways of Strawberry Valley High, home of the mighty Stallions. Today marked the first day of her sophomore year.

I’ll do better this go-round. No matter what. She would be strong and brave and stand up to Harlow Glass, the school bully; she wouldn’t run away. She would talk to other students at lunch, and she would make new friends; she wouldn’t hide in the band room. Somehow, she would convince everyone to use her given name rather than the nickname her family had cursed her with—Dottie.

Or Spotty Dottie. Or Dot dot dot, followed by laughing and pointing at the freckles on her face. Or her personal favorite, Dottie the wannabe hottie.

Today she forged a new path. I can do this!

Oh, crap! What if I can’t do this?

Insults she’d heard adults whisper behind their hands claimed center stage in her mind.

Bless her heart. Her face would turn milk into sour cream.

Poor girl. She could make a freight train take a dirt road.

Heaven’s above. She’s probably got to sneak up on a glass of water just to get a drink.

What did looks matter? So she was technically considered obese. So her eyes were too big for her face, and her teeth were crooked. Well, her teeth used to be crooked. The braces were definitely helping. So she had a mass of frizzy corkscrew curls and looked like the human version of a Dalmatian. So the heck what. She was a good person with a good heart. Nothing else mattered.

I can do this, she repeated.

Squeals of happiness rang out as kids reconnected with friends. Dorothea smiled and waved at everyone, whatever their clique, but hardly anyone acknowledged her. No biggie. Right? Improvement took time. RIGHT?

She forced herself to trudge on, head high. If only her besties were here. Lyndie Scott and Ryanne Wade. They would build her confidence.

You’re beautiful.

You’re so freaking smart.

You have the best sense of humor around.

A few months ago, Lyndie’s dad married Ryanne’s mom. They were a real family now, sisters on paper as well as heart. This year, the lucky girls were being homeschooled. Ryanne’s mom enjoyed having her only daughter nearby, and Lyndie was so quiet and reserved she functioned better in a contained environment.

When Dorothea had asked her mom about the possibility of being homeschooled, Carol had responded, “In order to feed and clothe you and your sister, I have to work two jobs. I can’t take on another responsibility, honey.”

Carol owned and operated the Strawberry Inn. Unless there was a festival in town, very few guests ever stayed overnight. For extra spending money, she waitressed at the all-night diner just down the street.

Dorothea had pouted. “You don’t understand, Momma. Without Lyndie and Ryanne, I’ll have no friends. I’ll be tormented.”

Carol had looked at her with compassion. “I’m sorry, honey, but girls like us have to learn to be as tough as nails. It’s the only way we can find happiness.”

Girls like us. Different? Unattractive?

Dorothea’s attention returned to the present as the gorgeous, popular and oh, so cruel Harlow Glass stepped into her path. Two other gorgeous, popular and oh, so cruel girls flanked Harlow’s sides. Madison Clark and Charlene Burns.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the ugliest girl of all?” Harlow asked.

“Spotty Dottie,” Madison piped up.

“The wannabe hottie.” Charlene smiled a cold smile.

Despite the heavy thud of her heartbeat, Dorothea stood her ground. Want change? You have to be the change. “My name is Dorothea.”

“Oh, my bad. Dorkthea.” Harlow held up a can of whipped cream as if it were a weapon of mass—

Wait. Had the vicious brunette just called her Dorkthea?

Dreams of a successful school year began to implode.

Harlow sneered at her. “Are you going to cry? You look like you’re going to cry.”

Madison and Charlene giggled.

As Harlow sprayed a stream of whipped cream into one girl’s mouth, then the other, she said, “Look, Dorkthea, I’m not going to sugarcoat the truth because you’ll probably eat it. You are a dork. And ugly. And fat. Face it. You’re a disgusting she-creature.”

Dorothea’s cheeks blistered with humiliation, her lungs deflating. She’d tortured herself all summer, running five miles every morning. Still she carried extra weight.

Be strong. Be brave.

“I won’t sugarcoat the truth, either,” she said, lifting her chin. “True beauty isn’t the size of your body but the size of your heart. Your heart is small, making you the most hideous girl I’ve ever met.”

Sky blue eyes glittered with venom.

Madison and Charlene huffed and puffed with indignation.

Score! Harlow-1, Dorothea-1. All tied up.

“Ask any boy in school to choose between the pretty girl and the nice one with a heart of gold,” Harlow grated. “Heck, ask any boy in the world! Guess who will win every—single—time.”

Be strong. Be brave. Stand up for yourself! Easier said than done. Harlow had a way of stripping a girl of her humanity and leaving a wounded animal.

“Who a boy chooses doesn’t matter,” Dorothea said, knowing deep down it was true. “With your own words, you proved boys can be as ignorant as you are.”

The girl’s mouth opened and snapped closed.

All right. Time to go. Before things got worse!

Could they get worse?

Yes! Dorothea took a step backward, intending to run...when she smacked into a wall. No, not a wall, but a person, she realized with a gasp. As strong hands settled on her waist to steady her, she glanced over her shoulder to see—

Daniel Porter!

Her crush. Her eternal flame. Her one and only. A senior just as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside.

She’d adored the boy since the first day of kindergarten, when she’d skinned her knee during gym, and he’d come to her rescue, acting as her crutch while she limped to the nurse’s station.

Today he was taller, of course, and cut with muscle...and he was peering at her with the most beautiful gold eyes framed by thick black lashes. Peering at her. Not the other girls. But...his hands still rested on her waist. He could probably feel the fat rolls underneath her shirt.

Tensing, Dorothea jumped away from him to sever contact.

He frowned at her. “Everything okay here?”

His voice! So low and husky. Her heart leaped into her throat, making it impossible to breathe or speak or even pretend to be cool.

Unaffected by his presence, Harlow flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. “This is a private conversation. Move along, Daneroni.”

Two years ago, when Harlow had given him the nickname—Daniel plus pepperoni—he’d had a problem with acne. But he didn’t have a problem anymore. The summer sun had cleared his skin, bronzing him to perfection. In his black T-shirt and faded jeans, he was the guy every girl dreamed of dating.

An-n-nd he stepped in front of Dorothea...acting as her shield? Her eyes widened as he leaned down, going nose to nose with Harlow. “You’re the queen bitch. Everyone gets it. Don’t be surprised when someone pushes you off your throne.”

The color drained from her majesty’s cheeks, but she gave her hair another flick, as if she’d never been more confident. “You obviously lost brain cells when you gained biceps, so I’m going to let this infraction slide. Just know this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now—move—along.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “How about you give me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I’ll actually like and move to a new town?”

Dorothea gaped. Daniel Porter, the hottest boy ever born, had just out-bullied Harlow Glass.

Forget crushing on him. There, in that moment, Dorothea fell madly, deeply and passionately in love with him. My hero!

Harlow kissed the tips of her fingers, then blew him a kiss with only the middle one extended. “Come on, girls,” she said as she shouldered him out of the way. “Let’s give Daniel time to think about the error of his ways.”

The group marched off. Madison glanced over her shoulder to wink at Daniel.

Something dark rolled through Dorothea. Jealousy? She moved, blocking the love of her life from the blonde and perfect cheerleader’s view. “Thank you. For everything.”

He bestowed his full attention on her, and oh, my stars. She almost melted into a puddle of goo. His eyelashes! They were so long they curled at the ends.

When he smiled at her, revealing straight, white teeth newly freed from braces, she forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t let Harlow’s cruelty get you down,” he said. “She likes herself, which means she has terrible taste. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Her still-thumping heart dropped into her ankles. Perfect? Her?

He gently chucked her under the chin. “See you around, Dottie.”

He knows my name! A nickname she suddenly loved.

As he strode down the hall, she called, “Yes! I’ll see you around!” Then her cheeks blistered with humiliation. Shrieking at him like a banshee? Not cool.

And oh, wow, had he seriously called her perfect?

Waves of feminine pride flooded her, something she’d never before experienced. Shoulders squaring, chin lifting with more attitude, she made her way to her new locker and dropped off her backpack.

A senior—Jessica Kay Dillon—had the locker next to hers. Tears welled in Jessie Kay’s eyes as she wiped whipped cream off the door. Dorothea caught the remaining letters—L-U-T—and swallowed a groan. Harlow must have spelled slut.

Jessie Kay had a reputation as “easily had and easily forgotten,” and Dorothea’s heart suddenly ached for her. The pretty blonde and her sister Brook Lynn had lost both of their parents. Their uncle had come to stay with them, but he must not have had any money to spare, because Jessie Kay’s clothes were ill fitting and threadbare.

Dorothea repeated what Daniel had just said to her, because—obviously—the words had the power to change everything. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Like your opinion matters,” the blonde snapped before stomping away.

A little of Dorothea’s newfound confidence wilted. I’m strong. I’m brave. I’m perfect. Daniel wasn’t a liar.

She floated to first period on a cloud of euphoria. What if she flirted with him? How would he respond? Would he ask her out? What if he fell in love with her, they got married and had a million babies?

Dorothea smiled. She had two long-term goals: become a meteorologist, and have a large family. She’d always been fascinated by weather, in all its many forms, and the more kids she had, the more people who would be obligated to adore her. Now, however, she added a third goal: enchant Daniel.

What career did he want for himself? What college did he hope to attend?

As her teacher droned on and on, Dorothea watched the clock, desperate for lunch hour to arrive so she could see Daniel. What if he invited her to sit at his table?

What if his friends teased him about spending time with her?

Her stomach twisted into sharp little knots. Maybe she should admire Daniel from afar. Just until she’d changed her social status from dead to alive.

But shouldn’t he like her regardless of her station?

By the time first...second...and third periods ended, she’d worked herself into a lather about whether or not to approach Daniel. Was she reaching too high too fast? Oh, crap, she was, wasn’t she? When had anyone ever wanted her?

Dorothea trudged to the cafeteria. When she spotted a smirking Harlow, she whipped around and rushed to the band room, her sanctuary, as if her feet were on fire.

She would be brave tomorrow.

She glanced over her shoulder as she turned the doorknob. Spotting Jessie Kay, who may or may not have noticed her, she quickly and quietly shut herself inside. The lights were out. Good. If Harlow had given chase, she might not think to look here. And if she did look here, she might not see Dorothea in the shadows.

Coward! Shame coated her skin like a sticky film. This isn’t strong, and this isn’t brave. Daniel would never fall for—

A low moan drifted through the air.

Oh, crap! Someone had beaten her to the hideaway. Someone injured?

Dorothea rounded two rows of ceiling-high shelves, each stacked with different musical instruments and—

“Mmm, that feels good.”

The voice dripped with pleasure, not pain, and struck Dorothea with the force of a lightning bolt. Madison Clark.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

Ice crystalized in her veins. That voice belonged to Daniel. The love of her life...the boy she’d hoped liked her back.

He was here with Madison Clark. And he’d called the cheerleader sweetheart.

“Yes, oh, yes,” Madison said, and moaned again.

Dorothea’s hands balled as she continued trudging forward. She had to see this. Had to see Daniel’s betrayal up close and personal.

What betrayal? She didn’t know. Only knew her insides were shredded.

When she reached the end of the shelf, she peered through two flute cases—and swallowed a cry of despair. Daniel had Madison pinned against the wall. He towered over the girl, his wide shoulders engulfing her delicate frame.

“Where did you learn—Oh!” Madison liquefied in his arms. “Don’t stop.”

Daniel chuckled. Or purred. Dorothea wasn’t sure which. She fought for breath, her lungs pulverized like two slabs of chicken. This boy...he was the reason her heart beat, and the reason it broke into a million little pieces.

He didn’t choose me. He chose her.

He’s a fool. Just like Harlow.

Worse, he was a liar. Dorothea wasn’t perfect. She would never be the girl a boy like Daniel desired.

She sniffled, then slapped a hand over her mouth. Unnecessary. Neither Daniel nor Madison stopped what they were doing, too wrapped up in each other...

This was for the best, Dorothea decided with a nod. If she and Daniel had dated, their names would sound stupid together. Daniel and Dottie. No, she hated Dottie all over again. Daniel and Dorothea. Dorothea and Daniel. The double Ds.

Yeah. Stupid!

A tear slid down her cheek.

Daniel traced the tip of his tongue over Madison’s lips. “You made me chase you all summer, naughty girl.”

“And now you’re going to punish me?” Madison dug her manicured nails into his nape to tug him closer.

“No. Now I’m going to reward you.” His hand—

Oh, my stars! His hand delved between Madison’s legs!

Dorothea spun, her chest burning as if she’d been doused in acid. She needed to leave the band room. She needed to leave the building. Now.

“Don’t stop,” Madison said. “Pleeease. I want my reward.”

He gifted her with another husky chuckle. “All right, but I’m skipping lunch to do this for you...which means you’ll owe me a reward.”

Dorothea forced one foot in front of the other. Somehow, she managed to exit the room as quietly as she’d entered. Jessie Kay leaned against the bank of lockers across from her. The blonde opened her mouth to speak, but Dorothea ran. Just ran. There was no sign of Harlow—not that it mattered anymore.

Harlow had hurt her pride. Daniel had hurt her soul.

CHAPTER ONE

Present day

DOROTHEA MATHIS STUDIED the last room on her cleanup schedule and groaned. The bed had been wrecked, the comforter and pillows tossed haphazardly on the floor. A pair of panties hung from a bedpost. The TV remote had been busted, the pieces scattered across the nightstand. Wet towels created a path to the bathroom door, and the trash can...

Oh, gag me! The trash can contained used condoms.

The place needed to be decontaminated by people wearing hazmat suits.

Am I up to date on my vaccinations?

With a sigh, Dorothea anchored earbuds in place, keyed up her iPod and donned a pair of latex gloves. One—germs. Gross! Two—she was protective of the green nail polish she’d applied only that morning.

She selected color based on mood. Green = irritated.

Somehow she’d known today would suck balls.

Her mom must have checked in Mr. and Ms. Pigsty last night after Dorothea had gone to bed. Since she had a 4:00 a.m. wake-up call, she tended to hit the sack by 9:00 p.m. Granny hours, her sister, Holly, liked to tell her.

Dorothea picked up the dirty towels, removed the panties from the post, emptied the trash, changed the sheets on the bed, straightened the pillows and covers, and tossed the remote remains, planning to bill the Pigstys for a new one.

Time was limited this morning. She’d promised to drive her mother into the city in—Crap! Less than an hour. She rushed through dusting and began vacuuming. As the machine swallowed dirt and debris, she tried not to envy her mother. Carol would soon be enjoying her fourth “singles retreat” of the year. Her fourth, but certainly not her last. She stayed at the Michaelson, a five-star hotel owned by the richest guy in Strawberry Valley, Dane Michaelson. Dane was married to a local girl Dorothea had gone to school with, and he allowed Carol to stay free of charge. No doubt about it, she took full advantage, attending speed-dating sessions, mixers and a plethora of themed parties.

Her busy love life was just one of the many reasons she’d given the Strawberry Inn to Dorothea.

The wheels on her cart suddenly squeaked, the sound louder than her music. Yanking out the earbuds, she spun.

Surprise expelled the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping. This so wasn’t happening right now.

It couldn’t be happening.

Nightmares didn’t really come to life. Nor did pornos. Not that she watched those...very often. But dang it, this had to be one or the other.

The sexiest man on the planet had just stridden into the room. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his eight pack—and his name was Daniel Porter.

The Daniel. The childhood crush she’d never forgotten. The first boy to break her already fragile heart.

She gulped. What was he doing here?

Wait. Like she really needed to ponder this one. Welcome back, Mr. Pigsty.

Her hands trembled as she yanked the vacuum cord from the electrical socket, the room descending into silence as the engine died.

I think you’re perfect just the way you are.

She smoothed her trembling hands down her “uniform,” a pair of blue scrubs that could take a licking and keep on ticking. “Uh, hi. Hello.” Oh, wow. Could she be any lamer? Definitely in a nightmare, not a porno. “Welcome back.”

He pulled the earbuds from his ears and gifted her with a small smile that failed to hide the lines of strain around his mouth. “Sorry about the mess. I planned to clean up before I checked out.” His gaze darted throughout the room, and he cringed. “I also plan to pay for the remote.”

What kind of sexual acrobatics had placed the poor remote in harm’s path, anyway?

Oh, my stars. A warm flush poured over Dorothea, threatening to overheat her. She almost fanned her cheeks for relief, barely stopped herself.

Look away! She tried, she really did, but Daniel was just so freaking beautiful. He was even taller now, and stronger, with a rough, tough face. His cheekbones were sharp, and his nose boasted a small notch in the center. Been broken a time or two? Dark stubble dusted his angular jaw, though the shadows couldn’t disguise the fine tracery of scars on his left cheek.

He was a modern-day warrior—literally. After high school, he’d joined the army, defending the country he loved.

This wasn’t the first time Dorothea had seen him since his return to town a few months ago, but her body reacted as if she’d never seen any man, heating and tingling in all the naughtiest places.

Act naturally. He’s just a customer.

A customer who’d wrecked a room during his most recent stay, but whatever. He was waiting for her to respond to his offer.

Let’s do this. “Yes, thank you. Payment would be appreciated.” She wound the vacuum cord around her arm, her motions clipped. “As for the room, I just need to tidy the bathroom, and I’ll be done.”

With his back to her, he stuffed his toiletries into an overnight bag. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”

During his senior year of high school, he hadn’t just slept with Madison Clark; he’d slept with a string of beautiful, popular girls, as if banging-and-bailing had finally been dubbed a national sport.

Good thing Dorothea hadn’t pursued him. He would have taken all her firsts and discarded her like garbage.

Instead, Jazz Connors had taken all her firsts and discarded her like garbage.

Anger boiled her blood until bitterness swept in, leaving a glaze of frost. Fire and ice. This wasn’t the first time they’d battled it out, and this wouldn’t be the last. The biggest downside? They ensured the wounds inside her hollowed-out chest never really had a chance to heal.

After graduation, she’d moved to the big bad city, enrolled in the University of Oklahoma’s meteorology program, met Jazz and gotten hitched, just as she’d always dreamed...only to return home several years later with a divorce and no degree.

A washed-up has-been by the age of twenty-four.

Daniel, having served multiple tours of duty, had come back a hero.

His life had meaning, hers didn’t. He and two of his friends had started a security company right here in Strawberry Valley. He took care of his ailing father, and in his free time he dated a plethora of city girls.

Dorothea knew about the girls because he’d stayed at the inn every time a date had ended...successfully.

Her flush returned full force as she considered the other five rooms he’d wrecked since his return...all the pleasure he’d been having...all the pleasure she wished she could experience.

Not with him, of course. With someone she liked and respected. Someone who liked and respected her, too, despite the fact that she was still too round for society’s unhealthy standards, a lot too freckled and trapped in a dead-end job.

Daniel Porter would never qualify.

Dorothea found him attractive, yes, but to her, appearance would never outshine personality.

My man must be my equal. She had a lot of love to give. She’d even grown to like herself...kind of. Maybe. Fine, she was trying to like herself.

Avoiding Daniel’s gaze, she said, “No, you stay. I’ll go.” Words her mother had drilled into her shouted inside her head: the customer comes first. “I’ll finish your room later.” She rolled the vacuum toward her cart.

“You live here, right?” he asked. “You own the inn?”

“I... Yes.” Technically she lived in the attic. The more rooms she had available for guests, the more money she would make. At least in theory.

Money was the number one reason she cleaned the pigsties herself, rather than hiring a maid. She was saving her pennies to turn every plain, ordinary room into a themed paradise. Then Strawberry Valley residents would happily pay to stay just for fun.

Again, in theory.

So far she’d decided on six themes. (1) Four seasons—the weather, not the hotel chain. (2) An enchanted forest. (3) A techno dance club. (4) The underwater world of Atlantis. (5) A royal palace. And (6) an inner sanctum, aka a superhero’s wet dream.

Also up for consideration? A beach hut, an igloo, an insane asylum for her more daring patrons and a desert oasis.

With twenty-three rooms in total, she needed other ideas fast. And more money. A lot more money.

Maybe, when the transformations were completed, the feeling of accomplishment would finally chase away her anger and bitterness. Maybe she would feel alive. Happy.

“If any part of your stay was subpar,” she said, “I will personally—”

“No, everything has been great.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at her. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get into trouble with the boss.”

Every pulse point in her body leaped with excitement. He’d winked at her. Her!

I think you’re perfect just the way you are.

Red alert! She would not read more into his words than he’d intended. Not this time. He was a flirt, plain and simple. Always had been, apparently always would be.

“Why would I get in trouble?” she asked.

“For not finishing the room.”

Oh. Right. “Well, as long as you plan to come back to the inn, I won’t fire myself. Not because I’m desperate to see you or anything,” she added in a rush. “I’m not.” Dang it! “I mean, I’m always glad to see you here. I mean, I just want your money.” Okay. Enough!

He laughed, his amber eyes twinkling.

Air caught in her throat and sizzled. He had the sexiest laugh on the planet. His entire face softened. He pulsed with new life; fresh and vibrant, he was the epitome of spring.

Then he frowned, as if he couldn’t believe he’d found humor in, well, anything.

Her brow furrowed with confusion. Why the doom and gloom?

“In that case,” he said, his tone flat, “I think I’ll stay another night.”

“Really?” She licked her lips. “What about your girlfriend?”

He stiffened. “She isn’t my—”

“No, don’t tell me. I’m sorry I asked. Your love life isn’t my business.”

“I live in Strawberry Valley. My love life is everyone’s business.”

His wry tone made her chuckle, and he stiffened all over again. Great. What had she done wrong this time?