They both had been careful not to talk about “the future,” what would happen after “things” were resolved. No long-term plans beyond what they would bring to Darius and Ken’s place for dinner.

There was too much standing between them and a cleared field to consider options that weren’t real yet. Remi didn’t know whether she wanted to stay in Chicago or on Mackinac. She didn’t know if she’d have a career to rebuild.

And she didn’t want to talk about options with a man who’d been abandoned before. A man who’d finally found a home here.

She appreciated the view when Brick bent to look under the sink, his uniform pants doing wonders for that spectacular ass of his.

He straightened and winked when he caught her admiring glance. “Cleaners will be here in a few. We should probably get out of their way.”

She glanced around at the tidy living space, the tall windows looking out over miles of water. It was April, and Agnes’s first reservation was arriving next week, effectively ending Remi’s tenure at the cottage.

“I’m going to miss this place,” she mused.

Brick slid the handle of the paintbrush into the back pocket of her jeans. “You’re not going far,” he reminded her.

There were a handful of semi-permanent lodging options for her to choose from. Topping the list were snagging a room at the Grand Hotel or moving back into her parents’ house. Kimber’s guest room had been considered and discarded after spending an entire pancake breakfast watching Kyle and Kimber take turns pulling each other into the laundry room to continue an argument that sounded older than either of their children.

“Thanks for letting me crash at your place for a few days until I decide,” Remi said, toying with a button on his shirt.

“About that,” he said, crossing his arms. There was a cocky confidence in his stance that she’d noticed more often recently.

“Having second thoughts?” she asked. She was already in the studio all the time, relearning her way around a canvas. Any time not spent painting or with Brick working, they were cooking, lounging, banging, or sleeping. Mostly at his place. Despite that, moving in together—no matter how temporarily—was still a big deal.

“I am,” he said briskly.

Ouch.

“Uh. Oh. I totally get it. I can stay at my parents’ place,” she said. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to sharing a roof with the man. Not until it was taken off the table.

He fisted a hand in her hoodie and pulled her to her toes. “I don’t want you crashing with me. I want you living with me.”

Her mouth fell open, and she couldn’t quite remember how jaw muscles worked to close it. “Uhhh.”

He shot her a bemused look. “You okay?”

“Uhhh.”

His grin incinerated her panties. “Baby, I want you with me. Every night, every day. I want to come home and find you covered in paint in the studio or naked in the tub, or crying over John Wayne movies.”