Jake sets a plate of bacon, eggs, and homemade hash browns onto the table and takes the seat catty-corner to me.

“How are you feeling about going home?” he asks.

“Eh, going to work on Monday morning is pretty weak in comparison to a wedding and a weekend of hot sex.”

He grins. “You are definitely fun in bed.”

“So are you.” His sexual appetite is voracious, his prowess unmatched. “I can’t even fathom what your stamina must have been like two decades ago.”

His grin drops and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What does that mean?”

I cover my mouth and laugh, then set my fork down and push my chair back. He glares at me, clearly unimpressed with my comment. I imagine being over forty and feeling like one’s virility is in question could easily sour a mood.

I shimmy my way onto his lap. I’m fairly tall, and I have hips, and curves, but Jake somehow manages to make me feel petite with his broad shoulders and defined muscles. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is set. The only time I’ve seen Jake lose his cool is when his players aren’t performing the way they’re capable of—namely starting fights on the ice instead of staying focused on the game. It’s pretty sexy. And I find irritated, unimpressed Jake is rather appealing.

“Look at how angry you are.”

“I’m not angry.” He stares at me through dark, hooded eyes.

“Hmm.” I trace the shell of his ear. “I had to take Tylenol this morning because my entire body aches. And do you know why that is?”

He cocks a brow and his gaze heats. “Because you had me turn you into a human pretzel last night?”

“Well, yes.” I can feel my cheeks heat at the memory. I don’t know what got into me last night—other than I haven’t been that ramped up…in…well…I guess the last time we spent a weekend together. “But also because you’re an animal between the sheets. Which is a compliment, by the way. I’m not sure if I should be jealous or feel sorry for the women you dated in your twenties.”

“There weren’t a lot of opportunities for dating during that decade of my life.”

“Mm.” I run my fingers through his hair. “So making up for missed opportunities then?”

He shrugs and grins. “Or maybe you bring out my wild side.” He laces our fingers together. “What do you think the chances are of you coming out this way for another visit in the next few weeks?”

This is the conversation I’ve been avoiding. The one I can’t put off any longer. And probably the reason I was so voracious this weekend, knowing that it was going to be the last time. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Jake.”

He drops his head, eyes on our twined fingers. “I think another weekend with you in my bed is a great idea.”

I settle my palm against his cheek and wait until his gaze lifts to mine again. “I like you, Jake.” Maybe a little too much. “And this chemistry has been so much fun to explore. But the wedding night was a close call. And I know we’re adults and we can do whatever we want, but our kids are married now, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep doing this.” My chest aches as disappointment settles behind his eyes. “Ryan and I have finally gotten to a good place again in our relationship, and I can’t jeopardize that. And I can’t lie to him, which is exactly what I’ve been doing and what I’d have to keep doing if I started flying out here to see you. I can’t come to Seattle and not spend time with Ryan, and more than that, I don’t want to hide things from him. He’s had secrets kept from him his entire life, and I don’t want to do that to him again. I can’t. My life is in Tennessee, and yours is here. I think we need to stop before it gets more complicated than it already is.” And based on the way my heart clenches, I know this is exactly the right thing to do. I’m getting too attached, and someone is going to get hurt if we keep going the way we are.

He gives me a small smile. “I understand. And you’re right, about all of it.” His fingers drift up and down my arm. “I’m just being greedy.”

“If things were different—”

“—but they aren’t,” he finishes for me.

I shake my head.

His gaze moves past me to the clock on the stove. His palms smooth down my back. “Can I take you to bed one last time before I drive you to the airport?”

I should say no. It would be the smart thing to do, especially after this conversation. But I don’t. “Please.”

_______________

“TELL ME ALL about the wedding! How was Hottie McDaddy? Did you take pictures? Did you get to at least dance with him?” Paxton, my colleague and very close friend, props her chin on her fist, eyes alight with excitement. Hottie McDaddy is the nickname she’s given Jake.

We’ve been working at the art studio for years, teaching classes together. It’s a hobby and a passion for both of us. We’ve been friends for decades.

Paxton was one of the first girls I met when I was finally able to return to school after Ryan was born. She was also the only friend I had who knew the truth: that Ryan wasn’t my baby brother. And she kept that secret for our entire friendship, until Gordon let the cat out of the bag. She’s always been someone I can confide in.

We’re at her place, sitting on her back deck, eating tortilla chips and guac, sipping bubbly water. She offered me a glass of wine or a margarita, but after the wedding, I need to dry out for a week, or three. It’s been two days since I arrived home. Two days to think about the way I left things with Jake. How, on the way to the airport, he commented that he knew something felt different this weekend. And when he’d kissed me goodbye, it had felt like heartbreak.

Over the past two days, I’ve gone over and over every single encounter. In the spare bedroom, in his bed, in the shower, in the pool, the hot tub, the kitchen counter, the living room. We had an exceptional amount of sex. I feel like I’m going through some kind of withdrawal.

And I miss him.

Which is so bad. And stupid. And exactly the reason I needed to stop things when I did. Because clearly, I’m starting to have real feelings for him, and I need to put those in a box and bury them six feet underground.

“I did something stupid.” I poke at the lemon slice floating in my glass with my straw, mostly so I don’t have to see her reaction when I spill the beans. Especially since I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about the fact I’ve been sleeping with Jake for months.

“Like get drunk and make an emotional speech while sobbing kind of stupid?” she asks.

“No. That would actually be tame in comparison.”

She stops trying to chase a piece of tomato around the bowl of guac. “Did you murder someone?”

I give her a look. “Of course not.”

“Then it can’t be that bad.”

“I slept with Jake.”

Confusion makes her eyebrows try to meet each other. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

I lift my hand in front of my mouth and repeat myself, “Jake. I’ve been sleeping with him.”

Paxton frowns. “We’re not talking about Hottie McDaddy, are we?”