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Her red lips were slightly parted and her thick hair was pinned away from her face, giving me a great view of the features I hadn’t appreciated the first time we met.

All three of us stood there in silence until true shifted from foot to foot and something rustled between us.

“Hi,” she breathed, a soft smile claiming her features. Big brown eyes jumped from my face and back to Greyson’s. “I brought your clothes. Don’t worry, I washed them and ah, fuck,” she groaned, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Greyson perk up at her outburst. “I forgot your shoes, I’ll be right ba?—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Was I holding on to any reason to see her again? Hell yea. I was already hoping she’d forget them the next time she stopped by too.

She bit her bottom lip and extended the bag in my direction. “Okay.”

Our fingers brushed during the exchange and while the touch was subtle, it sent a current of awareness up my arm and straight through to my chest.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Greyson asked, speaking for the first time since he opened the door. True’s eyes snapped to mine as if she was just as surprised that he spoke as I was.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“I made baked ziti. Come in,” he said, his gruff voice making it sound more like a command than an invitation.

But True didn’t look put off by it and relief flooded me. “Are you sure?”

She stared pointedly at me, not-so-subtly asking for confirmation. I liked her checking in with me more than I should and hid my smile by biting the inside of my cheek.

“Yea, I was gonna bring you some later,” I spoke up. No way in hell I was letting him take full credit for this when I’d been thinking about it since we got home. “Come on.”

At the same time, Greyson and I took a step back in silent invitation for her to come inside. Before I left to head to the kitchen, I tried to give Greyson a look that said, “don’t make thisfucking weird,” but his eyes were still pinned on our unexpected guest.

And honestly? I couldn’t blame him.

True’s lipstick was smeared all over the rim of her wine glass. For the third time in less than ten minutes, I caught myself splitting my attention between the bright crimson shade and her profile as she talked with the man beside me.

On the fourth time, I shook my head, telling myself to stop before she thought I’d put something in her drink. It’d been so long since I had a neighbor, it would help if I didn’t fuck this up because I wanted her to say yes the next time we invited her over.

I loved my best friend, but variety was the spice of life or whatever my sister tried to drill into my head.

For my own sanity, I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t him from time to time. I spent my days at the resort talking to people all day but they were guests, tourists just passing through Bliss Peak. There was no long lasting community in that. And since we were on the remote side of the mountain, the only constant we had was…us.

Would True be here for good? Or was she just here for a quick vacation?

I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask because Greyson was walking her through what he did at Wolfe Summit all day. For someone who hadn’t said a word to her yesterday, he was chatty as hell now.

Not that I was complaining. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to say so I wouldn’t stammer over my words.

True toyed with her fork and my attention zeroed in on the rings decorating each of her fingers. They were all gold and stopped at different points along her knuckles.

Gold looked good on her.

And the necklace and charm bracelet adorning her neck and wrist drove that point home.

“What do you do?” I asked during the first lull in conversation.

True looked at me, a bit of hesitation making her retreat before she painted on a placating smile. “I’m a writer,” she answered quietly, cautiously. “That’s why I’m here. To write a book.”

Oh shit. I could tell she was smart from our first interaction, but not write-a-whole-damn-book smart. A familiar sense of unease tried to flood me, but Greyson’s next question eased some of my discomfort.

“How long have you two been dating?” He asked over the rim of his whiskey tumbler. I didn’t know how he drank that shit straight, but I had bigger things to focus on when my brain finally grasped his question.

“What?”

How long have we been dating?