“My mother wants to pamper me, and Meyer wants to make her happy, so...they really felt like I should follow some pattern.”

“The pattern being marriage and home and hearth and all that?”

“Pretty much. They saw marriage to the right guy as a lock on a secure future, which for them also equates to happiness.” She slipped her fingers under the sleeve of the T-shirt so she could feel his rock-solid shoulder. She loved touching him, loved the smell of his skin, his incredible warmth. “I wanted to see more of the world.”

“By working in a dive on the wrong side of the tracks?”

She protested that. “It’s not a dive anymore!” Hadn’t been, not since Rowdy took over.

“Still in a shit part of town.” As he turned a corner, he grumbled under his breath, “Your stepfather sure as hell noticed.”

She shrugged. “I like my job.” And she loved... No. She wouldn’t even think about that. “You’re a terrific boss, and Ella and Jones feel sort of like family now.”

“And Cannon?”

“I have a feeling he’ll fit right in.” She looked down the street of impressive homes on large lots and a pang of sentiment curled around her heart. “There, at the end. The gray stone two-story.”

“Jesus.” Rowdy slowed the car. “Are you f**king kidding me?”

She hadn’t quite expected that reaction. “What?”

“It’s a damned castle.”

She looked at the Tudor-style house again. She supposed the stone turrets and expansive arches did bring to mind a castle, only this house had all the modern conveniences and then some. “I told you Meyer was well-to-do.” But honestly, she didn’t think about it. She’d come from that background, so to her, it was just a nice house. Again, the differences in their lives filled her with remorse for what Rowdy had never known. “It’s not a big deal.”

He pulled up to the curb, then just sat there, staring at the house.

“You can pull into the driveway.”

“No, I don’t think I can. Not in this trap.”

“Rowdy.” For her, a car was a car was a car. Sure, what he drove had seen better days, but it got him where he wanted to go and that’s what counted. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It leaks oil. And there’s not so much as a dry leaf on that damned driveway.”

“Oh.” Trying for some errant cheer, Avery said, “So we’ll have a nice brisk walk up to the house.” She slipped on her jacket. “Let’s go.” Now that they’d arrived, she was anxious to see her mother.

Face set in stone, Rowdy put the old Ford in Park and turned off the engine. He pocketed the keys and opened the door to step out. As he stood there looking toward the grounds of Meyer’s home, a gust of wind played with his hair and plastered the black T-shirt to his back.

Beneath the soft cotton, Avery could make out the outline of his bandages. Leaning toward the driver’s side, she asked, “Your back is still okay?”

With an effort he pulled his gaze from the house. “What? Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He sounded cross. She’d have to remember to stop fussing so much.

Shrugging into his flannel, Rowdy said, “Why do I have the sudden suspicion we might be underdressed?”

“They’re not that hoity-toity, I promise.” Stepping out, she pulled her jacket close around her. “Wow, that wind is cold.”

Rowdy moved around the car to her and put his arm over her shoulders. He took in the expanse of the home with brooding displeasure. “Might as well get this over with.”

Was he really dreading it so much? Because it meant nothing to her, she hadn’t even considered how it might make him feel to have wealth thrown in his face. His reaction showed her insensitivity.

She wasn’t better than other women, not if she ended up making him uncomfortable, forcing him into unfamiliar situations.

Drawing him to a stop, she looked up at him. “We don’t have to go in.”

One eyebrow lifted. “You want to hang outside in this cold?”

“No, I mean we can just turn around and go back.” With a hand gripping each side of his open flannel, she leaned into him. His hands automatically went to her waist. “Meyer will understand if I say I need to reschedule. I can come back later, tomorrow maybe—”

“I don’t think so.” Rowdy bent to nip her bottom lip, then slowly soothed it with his warm tongue. “Tomorrow you will be naked, open and under me.”

Her stomach took an excited tumble over those suggestive and descriptive words. “That sounds perfect, but I could come—”

“Several times.” He closed his mouth over hers, his tongue just barely teasing her lips, slipping inside to touch her tongue then retreating again. “Guaranteed.”

She had difficulty thinking when he did things like that. “Come here, in the morning, or early evening, and we could still spend the majority of the day together.”

“You’re not listening, babe. Tomorrow, all day, you’re mine.” He slid a hand down her back to her behind. “It’s going to take every available hour for me to get my fill.”

Would it really be that simple for him? Once they had sex, however many times in one day, would he have his fill and be done with her?

Probably, yes, and the reality of it saddened her, but she wouldn’t saddle him with her effusive emotions. He’d been honest with her all along; she knew their relationship would be very short-lived, and she knew what he wanted from her—sex.