“Yes, I did.”

He seemed like he was deciding something, and then his eyebrows pulled in. “I kept thinking on the mountain that I needed to focus on the job and stop thinking about you. That’s the wrong place to be preoccupied. For twenty-eight days, I’ve laid awake at night thinking about your lips, your hands, and the way your eyebrows raise when your bullshit detector goes off and you call me on it. I’ve missed you like crazy, Ellie. And then coming home to you…”

I offered a small smile, not knowing what else to say. “Do you want to see the rest?” I asked.

He chuckled and looked down, not bothered to be frustrated with my answer. When he looked up, his dimple dug into his cheek. “Yeah. Show me the rest.”

I took his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, showing him where the plates were stacked and which drawer was the silverware, and then we went down the hall, and I relished in his reactions with each room.

When we got to his, he intertwined his fingers on top of his head and sighed in awe. He didn’t have a bed frame, so I’d used some lattice boards sitting by the dumpster for headboards. I’d cleaned them up and painted them with leftover white paint from when the magazine was built.

“This is crazy. Where did you get that?”

“I made it.” I shrugged. “Wick helped.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do all this, Ellie. This doesn’t even look like the same apartment … it looks like…”

“Home.” I looked around at all my hard work, grinning.

Tyler kissed me again, pulling my oversized sweatshirt over my head as he backed me toward the bed. His tongued danced with mine, and when I sat, I kept him at bay with my right leg, pointing my fuzzy-socked foot at his chest. He flattened both hands on each side of my ankles, sliding them up past my knees to my thighs, and then pulled back, rolling the socks down and tossing them perfectly into the hamper in the corner.

He took my feet in his hands, kissing my toe, the side of my arch, and then moving up to my ankle, trailing up the inside of my leg with tiny kisses, each one leaving behind a second of warmth before it cooled.

He set my foot flat on the mattress and then reached back with one hand, pulling his T-shirt up. The bottom hem revealed his stomach and then chest, before he yanked it off his head and tossed it while keeping his gaze on me. He had leaned out during fire season, making all six tight muscles of his abs stand out, and the small V protrude, making the path that lead to the bulge behind his cargo pants even more noticeable.