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Throughout the evening, it’s an endless supply of food to the point where I can’t even look at my plate any longer.

“I need to get out of these clothes. I can’t breathe.” And I immediately realize my major gaffe.

“I am almost positive I can help you with that when we get back to the apartment.” Tathan gives me a once-over, knowing what his words are doing to me.

“Ready?” he asks when the waiter brings back his credit card.

My pulse skips. “Yes.”

He watches me as we stand, his eyes roaming over my body, letting me know exactly what he’s thinking when they drift closed, and he groans in my ear as we start to walk toward the door.

“That was some amazing food.” I smile when we walk outside. The heat of the night assaults my face, and for a moment, I wish it was cold so I could snuggle against him. “Thank you.”

He looks out at the hills as we wait for his car to be brought around, my arm wrapped around his. “Can I take you somewhere?”

Shrugging, I let him take my hand and lead me. “Where?”

“A place I like to take photos.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a trick to get me in your car so you make out with me and steam up the windows?”

“Maybe.” He smiles. It’s infectious and captivating.

“Okay.”

He takes me up to Camelback Mountain, the same place I saw in the photos on his Facebook page. By the way, I wouldn’t advise hiking to this exact location in a dress. But the view. . . . It’s breathtaking and makes me wonder how he’s still single. How could a man who looks like this, talks the way he does, and gives grand gestures as such, still be single?

So I have to ask, “How are you still single?”

Tathan Madsen is nothing like I expected he would be, and I may have said that before. But I think it needs to be said again because most won’t see it. I didn’t. The beauty within this man is hard to see by the untrained eye. He’s rare. He’s magnificent and deep. Cherished for his talent behind the lens, what you see in those eyes is an honest man.

He raises an eyebrow at me and bumps my shoulder as we stand in front of his car. “How areyoustill single?”

I don’t answer because he knows why, which explains a lot right then, something I never considered. I never did find out what happened to those infamous girlfriends Tathan supposedly had. Never did I think he would have experienced what I had. The hurt, the heartache.

“Where’d you catch them?”

Sad eyes meet mine, honesty there for me. “My bed. We had been. . . engaged at the time.”

We don’t say anything more. I don’t even knowwhatto say, or even feel. He’s surprising, but Tathan doesn’t try to make out with me or even hold me. We just watch the city lights together and stand there in complete silence. Doesn’t even cop a feel.

I find silence comforting. You’re not forcing yourself to say anything and, in turn, you’re relaxed and being yourself. That’s exactly what we are tonight.

Tathan takes my hand in his as we stand. “I want you to hold my hand.”

“Why?” I laugh, not understanding what he’s getting at.

“Because, I’d hold your hand, but ifyou’reholding mine, it’s becauseyouwant to.”

Do you see that girl right there?

Me. Look at me closely. If you do, you can see the very moment when my heart finally cracks open and realizes just how special this guy is.

Never two weeks ago would I have thought this could happen. I would have told you that you were crazy.

He’s staring at me, waiting for my answer, so I laugh. “But how is it because I want to, if you tell me to hold it?”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t demanding that you hold it.” I take his hand anyway and look out at the city. “I was just hoping you would.”

He smiles at me again.