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T he next morning, after Celia had finished breakfast and cleaned the kitchen, she ran up the stairs to her room. Pulled the hair tie out of her braid and shoved her fingers through the tightly woven hair to loosen it, then swiped a brush through her thick blond hair.

She scowled at herself in the mirror. “Why didn’t you leave it braided, doofus?” she muttered, even as she fluffed her hair. “Nick’s always seen you with a braid. You think he’s going to care that your hair is down? You think that’s gonna make a difference?” She snorted at herself in the mirror. “In your dreams, you idiot.”

With one last swipe of her fingers through her hair, she drew on lipstick, then turned away from the mirror. It wasn’t like she and Nick were going on a date. They were meeting so she could look at his apartment.

To decide if she wanted to move in with him.

God, those words conjured images she had no business entertaining. She and Nick sharing a bed. Waking up together in the morning. Her kissing Nick goodbye when she left for The Trailhead.

She was a complete idiot.

Swallowing hard, Celia grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Gripped the doorknob tight, then yanked it open. This was a business meeting. To look at his apartment, decide whether to move in with him.

To give Nick a chance to decide if he wanted to share his space with her. To give her a chance to decide if she felt the same.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she locked her door and ran down the stairs. She’d looked up the address of Nick’s apartment last night, so she headed to the business district.

When she reached the right address, she saw that it was a huge sporting goods store. Beside it, she saw a door, so she opened it and went inside. The air smelled like someone had burned toast, and Celia smiled. Smelled like Nick needed a cook to fix breakfast for him.

There was only one mailbox. The name Doyle/Pierce was on a slip of paper in the door, and Celia pressed the button. In moments, the door at the top of the stairs opened and Nick called down, “Come on up, Celia.”

Her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she walked up to the second floor. Nick stood in the doorway, wearing jeans with a blue shirt and striped tie. He smiled and stepped away from the door. “Welcome to what I hope is your new home.”

Inhaling his mossy, fresh scent, Celia swallowed and stepped past him into the living room of the apartment. A couch and two chairs faced a big television hung on the wall, and she rolled her eyes. Guys and their huge TVs.

A smallish table and four chairs sat in a nook in front of the kitchen.

The furniture was clearly quality pieces that looked comfortable as well as attractive. She turned around and smiled at him. “Nice looking place, Nick. You didn’t bring all this furniture from Las Vegas, did you?”

“Hell, no,” he said immediately. “I ordered it online from Crate & Barrel. I had their furniture in my rooms in Vegas, and I knew they made comfortable, practical furniture.”

She sucked in a breath and laid her hand on his arm. His skin was warm, and the hair on his arms tickled her palm. She quickly drew her hand away. “You didn’t use your real name, did you?”

“’Course not,” he said. “I got a new identity shortly after I moved here. Got a couple of credit cards, a phone, a few other things. Used one of those credit cards to buy the furniture.”

“Thank God.” She blew out a breath. “I have no idea how internet-savvy your father is, but I’d worry if you’d used your real name to order something online.”

“Yeah, I know better than that. I used my new identity to move my money to new accounts, too. Wasn’t sure if my father knew my account numbers, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Can I ask what your new first name is?” Celia asked.

“Wyatt,” he said with a grin. “Wyatt Pierce. Sounded very Western-ish.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Good choice.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “Mine’s Caitlin Cooper.”

Nick’s smile fell away. “You think we can ever use our real names again?”

“Maybe after your father’s locked up,” she said.

Nick shook his head. “Hell, no. I’m pretty sure prisoners get phone privileges. So if one of us started using our real names, he’d find out. Send Murray or another shooter after us.”

Celia fell onto one of the couches and stared at Nick. “I’m sorry I got you involved in my mess,” she said, regret thickening her voice. “You should be able to live in peace, without worrying about seeing Troy Murray again.”

Nick sat down beside her and took her hand. “You didn’t get me involved in your mess,” he said. “That was all my father’s doing. But you escaped, and so did I. Now we just have to keep ourselves safe.”

“Yeah,” Celia said. “No one from my old life, with the exception of my sister and now Noah and Hiram, knows what happened to me. And I’m gonna keep it that way.” She stared down at her hands. “I’ve worked in a lot of restaurants,” she said quietly. “When you’re working in that kind of high intensity, high stakes job, you bond with your fellow employees. At almost every restaurant I worked, the back of the house staff was really tight. Go out drinking together tight, dating each other tight. But once someone moved on to another job, we never saw each other again. They bonded with their new co-workers, and so did the people they left behind.”

Nick frowned. “You didn’t have any close friends?” he asked.

“My sister Anne. We were each other’s best friends. And a few women we went to high school with. But moving from restaurant to restaurant isn’t conducive to long-term relationships.”

Nick stared at her, and in his eyes, she saw a fleeting spark of attraction that he quicky hid. But it didn’t matter. She’d seen it before, both at his father’s house and at The Trailhead. And she was pretty sure he’d seen the same attraction in her eyes.

They sat staring at each other for a few seconds too long, and Nick stood up. Swiped his palms down the thighs of his jeans. Cleared his throat. “Let me show you the rest of the apartment.”

The kitchen was small, but it had decent appliances. Nothing like what a restaurant kitchen would have, but good quality. She was sure that the cabinets that lined the wall were full of equally good quality glassware and china.

He held her elbow gently, but goosebumps erupted on her arms. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed her his room first. It was a good-sized room, filled with the same Crate & Barrel-look furniture as the living room.

His office was in the second bedroom, which was about the same size as his bedroom. It held a desk with an Aeron desk chair, filing cabinets, a bookshelf and a closet. Two laptops sat on the desk.

After she’d studied it for a while, he took her elbow again and led her to the third bedroom. “This is the guest room.”

This room was smaller than the other two bedrooms. It held what looked like a double bed, a dresser and a night table, as well as a small bookshelf. That was about all the furniture that would fit in the room.

“If you’d rather have a bigger room, I can move my office in here and move this furniture into the other bedroom.”

“Don’t do that,” she said immediately. “This is fine. I don’t need an enormous bedroom. I don’t have a lot of clothes, and I won’t be spending a lot of time in here.” She shrugged. “I work a lot of hours, and wherever I’ve lived, I’ve never spent a lot of time in my apartment.”

She put her hand on his arm and felt the same zing of electricity. She yanked her hand away and curled her fingers into her palm. “If we decide to do this, Nick, I’m fine with this bedroom.”

His hand gripping the place where she’d grabbed his arm, he swallowed hard. “Okay. But if you change your mind, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll switch things around.”

“Thank you, Nick,” she said. “But that’s a lot of work for a place I’ll only sleep in. I’m guessing you work in your office all day. You have it set up the way you want. No way would you be able to squeeze everything from your office into the smaller bedroom.”

“Yeah,” he said after a long moment. “I appreciate that. I’d be cramped in here, but I’d do it if you wanted me to.”

She swallowed. Touched him again and felt the same jolt of electricity sizzle through her. “Okay, good. Leave everything the way it is. Like I said, I’ve never spent a lot of time in my apartments. I fall into bed as soon as I get home, then get up the next morning and leave for work again.”

She cut her gaze away from Nick’s. Part of her hoped she’d eventually be spending her nights in Nick’s bedroom. And that was foolish. Reckless. She didn’t want him to spot the yearning she was sure was obvious in her gaze.

Nick touched her hand, and goosebumps chased up her arm. “I didn’t show you the bathroom,” he said, and he swallowed hard. “That’s the downside of this apartment. There’s only one, so we’d have to share it.”

Celia tilted her head at him. “As long as you’re not the type who spends hours at a time in the bathroom and leaves it a mess, we’re good.” She grinned at him. “I’m more likely to do that than you are. But I’m always scrambling around in the morning, rushing to get ready for work, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you, either.”

“So have you made a decision?” Nick asked, drawing her down onto the couch. “Do you want to move in here with me?”

Celia stared at her hands. If she was honest with Nick, she’d tell him she’d decided almost immediately to move in with him. She’d been wildly attracted to him when she lived at his father’s house but had known nothing could come of it. This? Him living in Helena and offering to share his apartment with her? It felt like a second chance.

“In my professional life?” she said slowly, “I’m fierce. Take charge and take no prisoners. Because that’s how you have to behave if you want to be taken seriously. If you want to advance.

“But in my personal life, I’ve never been reckless,” she told him, her voice slow. Quiet. “My mother was a volatile, unpredictable alcoholic, and because of the way Anne and I were raised, I didn’t take chances. Didn’t jump into anything without thinking about it for days. Weeks , sometimes. I’d list all the pros. All the cons. Tried to figure out everything that could go wrong and make a plan for handling any disaster. Any deviation from my plan.”

She drew a deep breath and swiveled on the leather couch to face him. “I could do that now, too,” she said. “Probably should, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that cautious, fearful woman with you.” She swallowed the tangled lump of anxiety and apprehension in her throat.

Shut up, shut up , her demons screamed. But she didn’t want to listen to them. Didn’t want to guard her heart. Protect herself.

She was tired of living such a limited, closed-off life. She wanted to lay it all out there. Take a chance. Jump off the cliff and hope that Nick would be at the bottom to catch her.

Swallowing the saliva that had pooled in her mouth, she drew a shaky breath. Lifted her eyes to Nick’s.

And leapt into the unknown.

“In case you didn’t realize it, Nick, I was attracted to you when I worked for your father. Knew nothing could ever happen between us, but the desire was there, always humming beneath the surface. Hidden, but still potent. Strong.” She drew another shaky breath, but didn’t move closer to Nick.

“This?” She waved her hand between them. “Us both being in Helena? Both of us hiding from your father? It feels like a second chance.” She struggled to swallow. “A second chance to explore what I felt between us when I worked for your father.”

She swiveled so they were face to face. “I’ve never lived with anyone besides my mother and Anne. So I might be weird about some things. Jumpy at first. Squirrelly. I hope, if we agree to do this, that you can be patient with me. Cut me some slack while I figure stuff out.”

She flopped against the back of the couch, exhausted from the excruciating process of baring herself to Nick.

Anne was the only one who knew the real Celia. She’d never opened herself like this to anyone besides her sister. And Anne didn’t really count. She and Anne had grown up together. They told each other everything.

Nick was the first man she’d ever been so open with.

He didn’t say a word for what felt like forever. Finally he took her hand in his. Twined their fingers together. As before, his hands were soft against hers. Soft and strong. She knew her hands were rough from working in a kitchen. She had callouses on her fingers. A couple of healing burns on her right palm. A nick from a knife on her left hand.

But Nick didn’t seem to notice any of that. He brought first her right hand to his mouth and pressed his mouth to her palm. Did the same with her left hand. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Celia. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re weird. Or squirrelly. Or anything other than amazing. And I certainly didn’t expect that you’d jump into bed with me. When I said I wanted to get to know you, and let you get to know me, that’s exactly what I meant. There was no hidden meaning there. No nudge-nudge, wink-wink.”

He smiled, and it lit up his eyes, making the blue electric. “If we become more than roommates eventually, I would be thrilled. But I’m not assuming anything. Not counting on anything. We’ll go day by day and see what happens. Okay with you?”

This was the moment. The decision. Should she back-peddle, like she’d always done before? Back away from the high dive, climb down the ladder and hide in a safe space somewhere? Figure out a way to take back what she’d already said to him?

But she didn’t want to be that woman anymore. Drawing in a deep breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze, she said. “Yeah, Nick. That’s okay with me.”