Page 37 of Hearts on the Mend

“So is my therapist, Cassie.”

She ducks her head, snickering. “You’re kind of an asshole.”

“Not sure what you want me to be. You invited me to move in and help. I didn’t want the job.”

Cassie scoffs, reaching up to tug out her scrunchie. Her hair reminds me of a bowl of chocolate-covered cherries, the few pink pieces curling to frame her face. In the dim light of the kitchen, her nose stud sparkles. And I’m left standing there, struck.

Again.

Drowning in wanting her so much it fucking hurts.

She was gorgeous that night. Gorgeous now. In every variation, Cassie Whitman gets under my skin.

“If you don’t want to be here, then go. I’m not wasting my time on men who don’t. Not anymore.”

I knew it was a mistake the minute I spoke up, and now I want to go shut myself up in my room like the hermit I’ve become because I have the social skills of a domesticated honey badger.

“If I didn’t want to be here, then I wouldn’t.”

“You just said⁠—”

Her voice trails off as I stalk close, my eyes raking over her body. We can do this dance all winter, but it’s not going to change the fact that I remember how she feels when she comes on my cock.

As if I haven’t thought of that night every day for the past year.

We can pretend all we want, but some fires smolder for months. That’s Cassie and me.

“I am an asshole, Hellcat. I bite when cornered too. I’ve spent most of my life chasing the thing that could kill me. Good or bad, and I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“No one’s asking for an apology, Nolan.”

“Feels like you’re looking for one. You walked out of that hotel room first.”

Her eyes widen before they sweep down to my lips. She’s so fucking close I can smell the sweet chocolate of the brownie batter smeared at the corner of her mouth.

My hand aches to touch her, to pull her to me and kiss her as though I haven’t been thinking about it for months now. My thumb brushes against the corner of her lips, wiping off the extra chocolate. I bring my thumb to my mouth and suck, never breaking eye contact.

“Nolan…”

I hate how she whispers my name. Hate the raspy tone of her voice this late at night. Hate more that it’s like a tether, tugging me closer, refusing to let me drift away.

The oven timer shrieks, breaking us apart.

She busies herself with oven mitts, sliding the pan out of the middle rack, and I busy myself with not watching her bend over to do it. We eat warm brownies straight from the pan, and she beats me at three straight hands of gin rummy while Noah Kahan plays low off the Bluetooth speaker on the counter between us.

Somewhere around the second hand, I stop counting the minutes until I should leave, almost forgetting that we nearly kissed.

Chapter 12

Cassie

Ineed backup childcare for emergencies. I won’t rely on Nolan for that. Not fair to him or me.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting it to be his parents either. Merritt Point is no different from any other small town, so when Kathleen Murphy heard that Nolan swooped in to play nurse for Ruby, they insisted.

The absurdity of it all doesn’t hit me until I step out of my Jeep at their cute Cape Cod house, and my boot barely grips the ice patch on the driveway.

Unsure. Unsteady.