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“I know,” he says, as if reading my mind. “None of it’s to my taste. But I’m rarely home so it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s like stepping into a time capsule.”

But he’s right. It’s not what I would have pictured for Tase. A part of him is missing in his house, like he’s nevermade the space his own—he’s only temporarily occupying these four walls and roof to sleep.

He walks past me into the kitchen, leaving me to explore.

The mantel of the living room fireplace is bare except for a pair of pewter candlesticks and a picture frame to match. The sight of Tase with his arms around a woman in white snags me low in the gut. This must be Dana.

Light brown hair waves around a heart-shaped face, her eyes wide-set and kind. I can discern a shapely figure outlined by the white gown. Not model-thin, and not plump, just…average. She’s pretty, I concede, trying hard to ignore the swell of prickly discomfort that jealousy brings.

“But she doesn’t look right for you,” I mutter out loud. “Just like the house.”

I see him easily in a vet coat helping the voiceless. And maybe it’s because I’ve worked with him personally that I’ve cataloged the care he uses with his patients. None of this seems to fit with what I know about him.

And whatdoI know, really?

I know there’s a chemistry between us, a sizzle whenever I see him. I know he’s smart and driven and has this terrifying sense of responsibility to his place and his practice. Even to the detriment of himself. He’s the kind of man who would throw himself down on a bomb if it kept others safe.

“Do you want white or red? Wine,” he calls out.

“Dealer’s choice.”

“Red it is, then.”

I set the frame back down in its spot with the layer of dust around it. Then I take off my glasses and fold the arms, setting them on the mantel beside the picture.

There. Now there’s a little piece of me here, too, if only for tonight. Or for however long Tase wants me.

The kitchen is a small galley style with a rolling cart used as an island.

Here, at least, I see more of him. The kitchen table isstacked with files and professional journals, with only a small space left for him to eat. And even that has a coffee mug smack in the center with a muddy rim around the edge.

“My work station,” he grumbles and pours two glasses from a green bottle, handing one out to me. “I should have cleaned up before I brought you over. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “You never have to apologize for your space. Plus you had no idea I’d be here.”

Neither did I. Another spur of the moment choice by yours truly. Am I ever going to learn to look before I leap? Probably not.

It’s a good red wine, bold and full of tannins. I pick apart each flavor note because that’s way easier than figuring out how to thank Tase for giving me a reprieve from a place where I should’ve felt safe.

And I do feel safe at the cabin. But…

Why is there always abut?

Tase steps up and cups my face with his hands, forcing me to look at him. “You’re safe here, Gilli. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m around.”

And damn me, but I believe him.

I think the boys mean every word when they say they want to protect me. Then I lost everything when Tase looked at me. Those whiskey colored eyes saw parts of me that I never planned to ever see the light of day.

“What are you doing?”What do you see?

I barely get the whispered words out before his lips meet mine .

Like magnets drawn inexorably to each other, we come together, his arms around my waist and my arms around his neck. I pull him closer, desperate for the feel of him. He grazes his teeth along the line of my neck, nipping at my earlobe. Then he finds my mouth and kisses me like a starving man.

His control is slipping. I can feel it happening as he forces me backward toward the table Wood digs into my assand he sweeps out a hand to clear the top. The movement sends everything crashing to the floor.