Page 8 of Our Bay Will Come

I laugh, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Told you I'd make it worth your while."

"The pancakes weren't bad either," she adds, untangling her legs from around my waist.

I step back, helping her down from the counter. She wobbles slightly, and I steady her with a hand on her hip. The flannel shirt hangs open, framing her naked body. I have a sudden, fierce desire to keep her here, in my kitchen and life.

"What?" she asks, noticing my expression.

"Nothing," I lie. "Just thinking we might need another shower."

She studies me momentarily, like she knows I'm not telling the truth, but doesn't push. "Separate showers this time," she says, buttoning the flannel. "Or I really will never leave."

The thought appeals to me more than it should. "Would that be so terrible?"

Her expression turns guarded. "Fox?—"

"I know, I know," I interrupt, holding up my hands. "No relationships, no expectations. Just sex and pancakes."

"Exactly." She nods, but I don't miss the way her eyes linger on my face. "This was fun, but?—"

"But you're still leaving," I finish for her. "I get it, Prue. No pressure."

She relaxes visibly. "Thank you."

I gather our plates from the counter and set them in the sink. "Use the shower. I'll clean up here."

She hesitates, then stands on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my cheek. "You're not what I expected, Fox Carmichael."

Before I can respond, she's padding down the hallway to the bathroom. I hear the water start and resist the urge to join her. Instead, I clean the kitchen, thinking about the woman currently naked in my shower and wondering how the hell I'm going to convince her to take a chance on me.

Because one thing's clear—I'm not letting Prue Griffin disappear from my life for good. Not without a fight.

CHAPTER THREE

PRUE

Bzzzzz

My phone vibrates against my desk, and I nearly drop the fabric sample I've been staring at for the last fifteen minutes without really seeing it. I glance around our open-plan office before sneaking a peek at the screen.

Fox: Still thinking about you on my kitchen counter. It's hard to focus on drywall when all I can see is you coming apart.*

Heat floods my cheeks. It's been three days since I left Cedar Bay and Fox's cabin, with its spectacular views and even more incredible owner. Three days of trying to convince myself that what happened was just a vacation fling—the kind of hot, no-strings encounter that stays where it belongs: in the past.

Except Fox didn't get that memo.

Bzzzzz

Fox: Too much?

I bite my lip, fingers hovering over the screen.

Me: I'm at WORK. Some of us have professional responsibilities.

His response is immediate.

Fox: So do I. I'm currently holding up a ceiling beam while texting you. Multi-tasking.

I snort, then quickly disguise it as a cough when my business partner Rory glances over at me from her drafting table.

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