Roman figured Zoya was staying with Mariana because she'd not been home since Saturday. Just as well. And besides, this is what he'd wanted all along. To have the whole place to himself. There was only one problem. He hated it.

Not having her across the hall drove him nuts. Sitting at the dinner table alone made him downright surly. And missing out on her fucking word of the day pissed him off. He'd tried to ease his pain by going to Rockin' The Boat, but couldn't get interested in anything there. He could find something wrong with all of them. Too tall, too slim, not the right shade of red.

Most nights he had a couple of drinks, then came home and got drunk in private. That way, he didn't have to worry about losing sleep. He fell into a whiskey coma and came too when the booze wore off. He had to stop acting like a teenager with his first crush. He didn't understand it; why did he think about her all the time?

He rubbed his hand over his four-day-old beard. Hell, he didn't even to want shave anymore. Didn't want to do much of anything.

Thankfully, Flynn and Ophelia would arrive tomorrow and he'd have plenty to do. Fishing. Target practice. Ophelia kicking his ass at video games when before prison, it had been the other way around. He'd take them into town when the festival started to check out the barbecue cook-off and antique car show. Ophelia would probably find her own niche. Roman remembered how much he and O liked the three-legged race and tractor pull. Too old for that now but the pancake breakfast was always a big crowd pleaser. He'd talk them into getting up early for that.

He walked to the window, peered into the early morning light, and his heart stopped. She was in the garden. Hoeing weeds and dragging dirt around the stalks of the tomato plants. She wore a shirt he'd not seen before. A blue button-up. The top two unfastened allowing the fabric to fall open at her throat. Even from this distance he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra.

The memory of having those breasts in his mouth caused his cock to jump. Damn it. He opened the door and ambled toward her. "Hey."

She didn't look up or stop working. "Hey."

"You been staying at Mariana's?"

"Yeah."

Why wouldn't she look at him? "When are you coming home?"

That stopped her, but she still didn't face him. Just leaned against the hoe handle as if considering his question. Then she took a deep breath and went back to working the dirt. "This isn't my home."

"Yes, it is. You pay rent. That makes it yours. My sister and Flynn will be here tomorrow. I wanted you to meet them."

"Why?"

The question caught him off guard. "Because I've told them about you. We live together. You lived with Charamel. I think they'd like to know you." Damn. None of that sounded like a good reason. Truth was, he didn't give a shit if they met her or not, he needed her to come back. She gave him something to look forward to, changed the repetitiveness of his days with her quirkiness. He missed her word of the days. He missed her. So why couldn't he say that?

"I'll try to drop by one afternoon."

"For God's sake, Zoya. Look at me."

At first she didn't move but then she faced him with an expression as blank as his brain. He ran his hand across his face again. "I'm sorry about the other night."

Something flickered in her eyes, then she bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, too."

He advanced on her and she backed up, distancing herself from the situation. He stuck his hands in his pockets, even though he ached to touch her, to feel the weight of her under his hands; to card his fingers through her hair. "I know."

"Then why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not. I'm mad at myself."

She shrugged. "Just one big solecism, I guess."

There it was. Her fucking word. "You won't have to give up your room."

She started hoeing again. "That's okay. Mariana is leaving town for the weekend, and I'm taking care of the goats. I need to stay there, anyway."

Roman kicked the dirt and turned to go. There was no changing her mind. He'd only taken a few steps when she called after him, and for a split second, hope overwhelmed him.

"Hey."

He turned and shaded his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Is it alright if Homer goes with me?"

His chest tightened. "Sure. Take him."

"Thanks."

The heels of Roman's boots dug into the ground as he went back into the house. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He thought about her word. Solecism. Mistake. Blunder. Error. Her leaving. And most of all everything he'd said.

Even for him, it was too early to drink, but he needed something to calm his nerves. He grabbed his keys and headed to his truck. Fifteen minutes later, he parked in front of the Quickie Mart. When he pushed the door open, Mariana stood behind the counter.

"I thought you were out of town."

She looked past him as if she expected to see someone with him. "Oh, no I'm not leaving until tomorrow."

"You're here early."

"Worked the night shift. Getting off in thirty minutes. What can I help you with?"

"Pack of Marlboro short reds in a box."

She pulled the pack from the rack behind her and laid them next to the register. "I thought you'd stopped smoking. What happened? Fall off the wagon?"

He took money from his wallet and handed it to her. "Something like that. I saw Zoya this morning."

Mariana rang up the sale and offered his change, glaring at him with such an intensity that Medusa would be proud. "You're breaking her heart, you know." Her voice sounded calm, deadpan even, but he knew her well enough to see the irritation in her features. He couldn't even bring himself to match her indignation, tell her to mind her own business. Zoya was her friend, she was just looking out for her in her own stubborn Mariana López way, and he couldn't fault her for that.

"How you figure that?"

"Never mind. Not my business. I shouldn't have said anything."

What had Zoya been telling her? Except for the bad decision, he'd been as nice as possible. He clenched his teeth. "But you did, so what the hell are you talking about?"

"She thinks she's in love with you."

Pain pierced his temples like his brain might explode. He shook his head. "Not possible."

"Oh, it's possible all right. Do you really think she'd ask for sex without being emotional?"

"Well, yeah. I mean—we all need—it's just a way of—shit, I thought she was horny and since I was available..." His voice trailed off and he ran a hand over his face. "Wait. She told you about it?"

"The basics. She asked you. Yadda yadda. And you said you never wanted to do it again. Great pep-talk by the way. You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"Fuck," he scraped a hand down his face. "I hope she told you I tried to stop, but she didn't want to."

"Yeah, she mentioned that. Look, I'm not blaming you for how she feels. But you need to put some distance between you. That's why I have her staying at my place. Maybe by the time I get back in town, she will come to her senses."

"What does that mean?"

"That it's a crush. I'm pretty sure you're the first person she's been around that she's attracted to, so she doesn't have enough experience to tell the difference between infatuation and the real thing. Just stay away from her. That way she won't read more into your kindness than you intend."

He grabbed the box of cigarettes and shoved into his pocket. "Yeah. Sure." He spun around and stormed out.

All the way home, Roman cursed himself. So Zoya had a crush on him. Big deal. Not his fault. She'd known from the minute he showed up what he thought about sex. A basic need with no attachments. He'd never led her to believe anything else. Sure he cared about her, and he missed her. But he'd miss anybody when they were in his face all the time.

Okay, she wasn't in his face, but she was always there. She'd made herself useful, and he'd let her. But he'd told over and over how much he appreciated what she did.

Had she misinterpreted that? Apparently so. Is that why she'd asked?

Mariana was right. He needed to stay away from her. Maybe he didn't want to give her his class ring or hoodie, but he sure as hell didn't want to hurt her either. When her goat duty was over, and she came back home, he'd keep his distance. No more picnics in the park or banquets or unnecessary conversations. He could go right back to the moody asshole he'd been when he arrived. That should make her fall out of her crush on him pretty damn fast. Maybe then she'd realize she deserved better than him.

Zoya watched Roman stomp into the house and she almost cried. When she'd claimed this wasn't her home, and he'd said it was, joy bubbled in her chest. He'd given her several reasons to come back, but not the right one. He didn't miss her. He didn't want her. He didn't need her.

Yeah, she bet he'd told Flynn and maybe even Ophelia plenty. No question they were eager to meet the freak who'd ask their brother for sex and then didn't know what the hell she was doing. She'd wager they'd gotten a good laugh. On the bright side, she couldn't get any worse, so if Roman had been willing, she could have improved.

Pressing her palm to her chest, she closed her eyes and filled her lungs with fresh air. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat and hear it in her head. Her chest ached, as if her heart had been filled and now she missed the weight of it.

Standing in the early light, he'd looked so good she'd had a hard time facing him. All broad shoulders, hard muscles, and scruffy beard that looked out of place. She loved him but he didn't love her back and never would. She'd made the right decision. Leaving this place was for the best. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong anywhere or to anyone. But she'd wanted to belong with Roman.

He'd only stayed in the house for a few minutes, then came back out and she was stupid enough to think he was going to ask her back for the right reason. But instead, he climbed into his truck and took off like he was driving a get-away car. Appropriate. He'd stolen everything from her. Heart. Love.

No, not stolen.

She'd given it freely.

The next day, Roman glared at the cigarettes but couldn't bring himself to smoke one. If he did, then the month he'd been nicotine free was all for nothing.

The day before while he'd been in town, Zoya had been in the house. She'd changed the sheets on her bed and made his. The pile of clothes he'd left in his chair were gone. Even after the awkward encounter and difficult conversation, she was still taking care of him. As an heiress, he guessed she was used to people catering to her every whim but somehow she remained unspoiled. She didn't put herself before others and he'd never seen a single indication she felt entitled to special treatment.

On the dining table, she'd placed a vase filled with Indian paintbrush and phlox from the field across the road. Charamel used to do the same thing. Said she needed to 'pretty things up' when company came.

He turned his attention to the hamburger meat on the counter and divided it into patties. Later, when Ophelia and Flynn arrived, he'd fire up the grill. Afterwards, if they wanted, he'd take them to Rockin' The Boat. Since the town was gearing up for the festival, the local bar should be hopping with tourists. Hell, maybe he'd even find a woman to suit him.

It didn't take long to get his menu in order and then he looked around for something else to do. He had time to kill. He could walk to Mariana's and try to reason with Zoya again and straighten out the misunderstanding. Explain that she couldn't fall in love with someone as fucked up and damaged as he. She had her whole life ahead of her. She certainly didn't need to get hung up on an ex-con.

At some point, she'd go home and take her rightful place. Attend galas and operas and be featured in the society pages. He'd never fit into that world. He picked up the cigarettes, shook one out, and brought it to his nose. He inhaled a long breath. Damn, he craved it. Bad. He replaced it, then crushed the box in his fist and threw it in the trash.

Stepping to the porch, he gazed across the pond. Not a ripple or a whiff of a breeze. A bullfrog croaked a steady rhythm that sounded like a motor grinding. That gave him an idea. He'd not driven the Harley in weeks. He went back inside, put on his boots, and trekked out to the barn.

Thirty minutes later, a cloud of dust trailed behind as he blazed down the road. When he got to town, the main drag was open, but most of the side streets were roped off where people were busy setting up food wagons, carnival games, and arts and crafts booths. Local business owners hustled to arrange outside tables and shelves for their yearly sidewalk sale.

He made a slow pass through town and parked in front of the bar. He could see the place was already more packed than usual. Normally, he'd have a drink, but wasn't in the mood—for much of anything. He wondered if Zoya had attended the festival before. He'd never asked. Charamel would have wanted her to, but wouldn't have forced her. If not, he hated for her to miss the closing ceremony fireworks. Maybe he'd see her on Saturday and try to convince her. No. What he needed was to stop thinking about her. And he would. Starting now.

Roman spent most of the day in town, offering his services to help vendors. They gladly accepted, and it helped him pass the time. At three, he'd gone home to shower and shave. Now, standing on the porch, he watched Flynn's truck barrel down the dirt road toward the house. When he brought the Chevy to a halt, Roman rushed out to meet them halfway.

Ophelia was the first to emerge and threw her arms around her brother. "Flynn still can't drive worth a shit. We're lucky to be alive."

"That is not true! I'm an excellent driver." He fell in behind Ophelia and took his turn, embracing Roman. "Damn, look at you. Beefed up a little, haven't you?"

"Yeah. That's what decent food will do for you. Come on. I can't wait to show you the place."

After a tour and more complaints from Ophelia about Flynn's driving and Roxanne's job, Roman got beers from the fridge and placed them on the table. Flynn grabbed his and downed half of it.

Ophelia came down the hall carrying a bag and pitched it to Roman. "Got you some gifts."

Roman grinned and pulled out tee-shirts and read each one. "I didn't like prison. They got the wrong kind of bars in there. Funny, real funny."

"The blue is for Flynn."

Roman pitched it to him and Flynn eyed it. "You think I'll wear this?"

"Let me see."

Flynn turned the shirt and Roman read, "Heads, I get tail. Tails, I get head."

Ophelia laughed. "What's wrong? You don't think your little debutant will see the humor in it?"

He gritted his teeth. He hadn't told her Zoya's past; he promised he'd tell no one at her request, and Ophelia's comment wasn't far from the truth. It unnerved him a little. He knew she was just making an offhand remark, and that she didn't actually know anything, but still. "No. She won't."

Roman took two more from the sack. "You went a little crazy on the shirts, didn't you, O?"

"Oh, the green is mine."

Flynn smirked. "I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual."

Roman stared at the pink one. "Irony. The opposite of wrinkly. Who is this for?"

"Oh, your roommate. Since she likes those words of the day and does housework, I thought it was perfect. I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"I think I also mentioned she isn't comfortable around strangers, so she's staying with Mariana."

"What? We're not going to meet her? Did you tell her we don't bite?"

"Yeah, but not gonna work out this time. Maybe next trip. Are you hungry? I've got burgers ready to put on the grill."

"Let's wait awhile. I wanted to take a look around the place," Flynn said. "It's the first time we've been here since Charamel's funeral."

Ophelia headed to the back door. "I kind of want to go fishing. Like old times," she added wistfully, no doubt remembering the time she slung the pole back with too much force and hit Roman in the face with a fish, but not before tearing his upper lip on the hook.

"Okay, I'll get the bait. You get the poles out of the barn, and I'll meet you at the boat." Roman turned to Flynn. "You sure you don't want to go?"

"No, I think I'll take a walk in the woods. Clear my head of all the wedding crap I'm having to deal with. I don't know why she can't make all the decisions without me, because she does anyway."

As Roman and Ophelia pushed off from the shore, Roman looked at his little sister. "What's the deal with Flynn?"

She quirked a brow. "Pretty obvious, right?"

"Yeah. Is it the wedding?"

"Between you and me, it's more than that. He's not in love with her. I keep telling him to break it off, but he won't do it." She side-eyed Roman. "The men in this family are idiots."

He elected to ignore her comment, even if she was right. "Then why did he propose? Oh hell, he didn't knock her up, did he?"

"No. I think he got caught up in her world and lost his good sense. I mean, she's rich. Her dad donates a shit ton of money to the university every year and wants Flynn to quit the engineering department and work for him. It all went to his head and now he doesn't know what to do. But he's about to fuck up his life. Big time. Maybe you can straighten him out."

"About—Céline, right?"

Ophelia nodded and baited his hook, then dropped it into the water.

Roman did the same. "How is she?"

"Spoiled rotten. Gets her way about everything. She plans Flynn's life twenty-four-seven. The only reason he's here is because she wants him to break the news that you can't be in the wedding. Can't have an ex-con in the social event of the year." Ophelia's face contorted. "Bitch."

Roman raised a hand in surrender. "That's okay with me. I don't give a shit. I'll be happy to sit on the back row and pretend I don't know him."

"That's not the point. It's his wedding, too, and if he wants you in it, then you should be. I'm telling you, he's going to be miserable. Once they're married, we'll never see him again. She'll make sure of that."

SO, now that we've met Ophelia and Flynn, what do you guys think of them so far?

TEASER: Lemon gazed at Roman but spoke to Zoya. "Don't be ridiculous. Have something virgin."

All class, that Lemon. 😂