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And that was a kind of attachment I was definitely not ready for. Plus, I had no idea if Jackson was the attaching kind. He was a wanderer, preferring no attachments at all.

So catching feelings was a terrible idea, but I wasn't so sure I could keep my feelings and my desires separate when it came to him.

And I wasn't sure he wanted me to, which was even more complicated. The man had been all optimistic caution since he arrived on my deck. He flirted but didn't take it too far. He smiled but didn't paint it on too thick. He met my gaze but didn't stare. He answered my questions and quietly cajoled me to return the favor.

He was, quite frankly, a damn catch. Someone I could have a wonderful fling with.

But was he someone I could walk away from when it was time to return to my world and face my fans? Jackson was clear about who he was. He didn't do loud, and my crowds were very loud. He didn't do stress or complication. My life was all stress and complication. He valued his freedom. I was chained to the world I created.

So, while I very much wanted to tumble into bed with this snack of a mountain man, I was pretty sure it was a terrible idea.

"This is delicious." Jackson tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the stew.

"I'm pretty happy with it. I might bake brownies tomorrow, if you're interested."

His gaze locked with mine, curious if that was an invitation or an accident. "I love brownies."

I wasn't sure which one it was either.

"You'd have to be a monster not to like brownies. Good to know."

He laughed. "Some people just don't like chocolate or can't have gluten."

"The gluten I can forgive and make an alternative. But people who don't like chocolate scare me. It's unnatural." I obviously didn't actually think that, but this easy banter was too much fun.

I could tease like this with Charley and some of her friends but that was about it. My family was too serious for teasing. My writing friends were spread all over the world and I had kept all of them at arm's length as I spiraled.

So yeah, I would take some good banter with a sexy man and enjoy it.

"Well, it's a good thing I like brownies then."

"It won't compare to Annie's chocolate cake, but I believe treats come in lots of different packages."

His voice dropped low in a way that made my insides flutter. "Yes, they do."

It was clear Jackson was attracted to me and there was no denying I was attracted to him. I couldn't flirt to save my life and guessing at what he was thinking would drive me insane, so instead of falling victim to my own doubts, I blurted out what I wanted to know. "What are we doing?"

His eyebrows rose along with a handful of bread hovering above his bowl. "Eating dinner?"

Leave it to a writer to use words ineffectively at a crucial time. "No, I mean us." I waved my hand between us. "What is this? Are we friends? Because if you're thinking of sex, it should probably be a one-time thing because I. Am. A. Mess, Jackson. A real mess. And your sister needs you right now and the only thing that will come from getting freaky with me is a fast-track to exploding your life too." I said all of that in one rushed string of words, so I had to suck in a lungful of air when I was done.

Which had to be the most unsexy thing to do on top of my word vomit.

But maybe that was a good thing. Show him right from the jump that getting into anything with me was a terrible idea. Watching him run away would kill that electric zing and end this for both of us once and for all.

He set the bread aside and leaned forward on the table, his gaze steady on me the whole time. "No one can explode my life any worse than I already have. It's not possible."

I wanted to argue that point, but it was clear Jackson didn't want to hear anything right now. He was doing the talking.

And dammit. I liked that too.

He plucked that piece of bread back up and dipped it into his stew. "You're a mess but I can be unpleasant to be around. I'm quiet and grouchy and disappear when I want to." He glanced up as he chewed and swallowed. "Maybe I like your mess. It's...compatible with mine."

"We don't know each other well enough to know that." But the argument sounded weak to my own ears. Jackson fit. Somehow, he fit. I couldn't explain any of it.

Jackson nodded once and looked down. His jaw worked as he thought, and then he pushed back, his chair scraping against the wood floor. He stood and moved around the table to pull out the chair beside me. He sat facing me, his forearms on his knees and hands clasped together. "Bullshit," he said smoothly, softly.

That single word, spoken with such sincerity, made me want to toss out all my preconceived notions, all my doubts. Just fling them into the river and let them disappear downstream.