She shook her head. “You’re a good man, Brick. Any woman who lands you permanently is going to be very lucky.”

Permanently. His palms were sweaty.

After Audrey, he’d sworn off permanent. He’d tried and failed. And learned there was no way to guarantee the person he chose would stay the same. Would want the same things forever. He knew what he wanted. To be here, on this island, with his community. But now there was a wild card in play. Remi.

The last two weeks had been the best of his life. Walking in the door and finding Remington Ford in his kitchen, covered in flecks of paint and very little else. Waking up each morning to her star-fished facedown on the bed, one hand clamped possessively around whatever body part of his she could get to. Witnessing her surrender her body to his again and again. He was living out a fever dream and never wanted to wake up.

He wanted more of exactly that. A lifetime of it.

But what kind of a lifetime did Remi want? She wasn’t one to plant roots. And he wasn’t one to comfortably tumble from place to place. He disliked cities, the anonymous crush of busy strangers. He loved horses, open expanses of water, and the people he served.

But he couldn’t ignore the gravitational pull of her. Just being in her orbit made his world bigger, brighter, more colorful. And he was fucking terrified.

He wandered over to the buffet table and inspected the plates, the utensils, checked the flames on the burners.

“Holy Lady Gaga.”

That familiar voice, the awe and excitement he heard in it, stuck him like one of Jenise’s famous jerk chicken skewers.

Remi didn’t look like Remi. She looked like Alessandra Ballard in a sequined dress that stopped several sexy inches above her knees. It shimmered like she did. Catching the light and the eye with its peachy gold sparkle and graceful long sleeves. Ken had done something goddess-like to her hair, pulling it back from her face in a high ponytail that rained down in thick red curls. Her eyes were smokier, lips bolder and redder.

His heart tripped in his chest, and for a second, he couldn’t believe she was his. And then he remembered. She wasn’t really. Not all the way. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to slide his hand up between her thighs and discover what she wore underneath that dress. Or wrapping that fiery tail around his fist. Or kissing her so hard, so rough that red lipstick smeared.

“Brick, I can’t believe you did this,” she breathed.

Maybe she didn’t look like his Remi, but she sounded like her. And it made him only want her more.

He crossed to her, drawn to her like a planet orbiting its sun. A masochist ready for his next punishment.

“You like it?” he asked gruffly. His fingers flexed at his sides, wanting to touch her, but he was afraid once he started, he wouldn’t stop.