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“What I mean,” I start, “is that I like being with you like this. Seeing you during the day. Sharing our meals together. Watching your animal shows at night. Falling asleep next to you and waking up with you in my arms every morning. And… I don’t want that to change.

I know you might not feel the same way…”

“Are you—” Rory stops. Her brow creases. “Are you talking about living together?”

“Maybe?” Even as I say it, I’m mentally reshuffling things. We couldn’t live at my cabin, not with all Rory’s dogs and the space she needs for her shelter. So we’d have to live at her place, which I wouldn’t mind. But is that too pushy, basically asking if I can move in with her?

“Maybe?” she echoes. “What do you mean, Gage?”

Dammit. I’m making a mess out of this.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. My stomach twists in a knot. “I know you need to live at your place. For the dogs. For your shelter. But… I want to live with you. I know we haven’t been dating long, and it might be too soon. Maybe it’s presumptuous…”

Rory twists around so she’s facing me. She catches my hands with hers. In a cautious tone, she asks, “Would you want to move in with me? At my house?”

My heart makes an ungainly leap. “Is that weird? Most of my friends, they ask their girlfriend to move in with them . But it wouldn’t work for us. It wouldn’t work for you.”

“But what about your privacy? Having lots of peace and quiet? The dogs… they’re good most of the time. But they bark. People come to see them. And… what if you get tired of having me around all the time?”

“Never.” It comes out forcefully. “Never, Ror. I couldn’t get tired of being around you. Yes, I like my privacy. I like quiet. But it’s different with you. I want you around me. And I like the dogs. They relax me. They help when I’m having a tough time with my PTSD.”

Threading my fingers between hers, I continue, “If you’re not ready to live together, that’s okay. I understand. And it won’t change things between us. We’ll still date. Take our time with things. But.” I take another steadying breath. “I want to be with you. Wherever you are.”

Rory stares at me, emotion working in her eyes.

I hold my breath.

Then.

She smiles.

“Gage. I’ve been wanting to ask you . But I was afraid it was too soon.”

“You were?”

“Yes. All the things you said, I feel the same way. I’m happier when you’re around. I sleep better. I feel safer.” A beat, and then she amends, “Not that I want you around to make me feel safe. But… I’ve been scared, thinking about going back there alone. And with you, I won’t be scared.”

A hand reaches into my chest and gives my heart a wrenching squeeze. “Oh, Ror. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to offer to stay with me.”

“I don’t. I couldn’t.”

As I look at her, those three words dance around in my head. Words I’m almost positive are real.

But I’ve never said them to a woman before. And once they’re out, there’s no taking them back.

I think I’m in love with her. But how do I know when I’ve never felt this way before?

Oblivious to my inner debate, Rory asks, “So, you would want to move into my house? What about your place here?”

That’s an easier question. “We can repurpose it as another client cabin. And when friends visit, they can stay there, like Leo and Georgia did.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That’s true. But Gage. Are you sure? I want you to move in, but?—”

“I’m sure.” Now that I’ve pulled the secret wish from my head, it’s an easy answer to give. I brush my lips across hers. “I’m absolutely sure, Ror. As long as you are, too.”

Her gaze softens with affection as she looks at me. “I’m sure, too.”

As I look into Rory’s eyes, something else flickers there.

Something deeper than affection.

Love?

Joy blooms inside me. It’s a breathless sort of feeling, a warmth expanding in my chest and doubling my heart in size.

Is this how love feels?

Rory kisses me, her lips lingering on mine for a moment before she pulls away with a smile. “So we’re moving in together?”

I kiss her back. Then I flash her a grin. “We’re moving in together.”

“Do you think…” Heat darkens her eyes to a deep mossy green. Her voice goes low and sultry. “We could celebrate? With some sexy things?”

Desire surges, hard and aching.

A mental image of stripping Rory bare flashes through my mind, of kissing each tantalizing inch of her, taking my time, showing her just how happy I am to be moving in together. How grateful I am that she’s trusting me with something so big.

But.

Her concussion.

Dammit.

“We can’t,” I reply, swallowing back my disappointment. “Not yet, baby. The doctor said no vigorous activity for at least a week, possibly longer.”

Rory pouts at me, and it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “Gage. It’s been days. And I feel okay. Just a tiny headache.”

“I know.” I hug her to me, breathing in her soft floral scent. “But I’m not taking any chances with your health.” Drawing back, I push some loose hair behind her ear. “But how about this? Eat breakfast before it’s completely cold. Then I’ll give you a massage.”

“A sexy massage?”

My erection throbs hard and insistent, but I sternly command it to settle. This isn’t about me right now. It’s all about Rory. “I think a sexy massage would be okay.”

As she gazes at me, her face lights up. “I guess that’s okay, then. And after, we could have a lazy morning together? Just cuddling in bed? And we could make plans for our big move?”

My heart rolls over again.

“Yes, Ror.” I kiss her again, tasting cinnamon and sugar on her lips. “We can absolutely do all of that.”

Rory snuggles closer, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m so happy, Gage. Maybe it sounds crazy, after everything that’s happened. But I really am.”

Oh.

“Baby,” I breathe, my throat too tight to speak louder. “I’m so happy, too.”