The huge, beautifully stained wood front door swings open and Jasper steps onto the front porch complete with two planters framing the door and lots of Adirondack chairs. Even from this distance, I can see his bright smile as he struggles to wave to me while holding two cups of coffee. I wave back, feeling some of the day’s earlier frustrations begin to drift away, keeping my eyes on him as he locks the door. I absolutely do not stare at the dark gray basketball shorts he’s wearing or the way they cling just so to the curve of his ass.

No.

I definitely do not do that.

He turns back toward me, a skip in his step as he hustles to my old Jeep. I unstrap my seat belt, leaning over the center console to open the door for him.

“Thanks.” He catches the bottom of the door with the toe of his tennis shoe and pulls it open the rest of the way. He leans in, stretching his long, muscular arm across my car, and hands me the plastic cup dripping with condensation. “One iced coffee, light on the sugar, heavy on the half-and-half.” He recites the order he insisted I tell him.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” As much as I told him this wasn’t necessary, after the morning I had, extra caffeine is very much welcome. “And sorry about this morning.”

I sent him, like, I don’t know, a hundred texts informing him of my tire situation, updating him on said tire situation, and, of course, apologizing. Not only do I not like being late to anything; I had a plan in my head and I wanted to stick to it.

Also, it’s July in Colorado. I know most people think of snow and cold weather when they think of my state, but we’re close to the sun and it gets hot in the summer. I love hiking. It’s one of my favorite activities in the world, but nobody wants to be a gross, sweaty, miserable mess when they’re trekking along a trail. Plus, while Seven Falls isn’t a super-well-known spot, it’s close to a big hotel in the Springs, so by default there’s tourist overlap. I was hoping to avoid the blazing afternoon sun and the even bigger nuisance: crowds.

“Like I told you after all of those texts, it’s not a problem at all.” There’s a smile in his voice and I can tell he thinks I’m ridiculous. Which isn’t wrong. He sets his cup in the drink holder between our seats before reaching over his shoulder and buckling up. “I’m glad you still wanted to go. I know car trouble can ruin an entire day.”

This is big facts.