“We really have to go,” she outright whined and sat up, taking her breasts with her. “I swear, Cam, if I couldn’t feel how much you want me right now, I’d seriously think I don’t do it for you.” She tugged her shirt on and pulled her hair free of the neckline.

“Trust me,” I told her, switching my grip to her hips. “You do it for me. You more than do it for me. You’re it for me.”

“Don’t even think about getting all sweet with me, Camden Daniels. You have me wound tighter than a freaking…” Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t even know. Pick something that gets wound up.”

I couldn’t contain the laughter that sputtered from my lips, and her eyes narrowed as she climbed off me.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” she mumbled as she grabbed her shoes and put them on. The words sank a little deeper into me, just like they did every time she said them. If I wasn’t careful, one day I’d start depending on them—on her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

I rose and stretched, noting with more than a little satisfaction that her eyes went straight to the strip of skin I’d exposed while doing so. “Two reasons, really,” I explained, walking to her hall closet to grab her jacket.

“Which would be?” She followed me.

I ignored the screaming protest in my dick that I was once again choosing not to take what she was offering and pulled her jacket from its hanger. Then I turned to face an equally frustrated Willow.

“First, I’ve never been with someone who I could kiss and laugh with in the same thirty seconds. I like it.”

Her expression softened, and a ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“And second—” I handed Willow her jacket. “Your shirt is on inside out.”

She looked down and let loose an exasperated sigh before turning away and walking down the hall.

“Where are you going?”

“To my bedroom. Show’s over for you, buddy.”

That only got me laughing again as I let my head bang back against the closet door.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked the Jeep in the owners-only lot just above Main Street.

“There must be a thousand people,” Willow said as she jumped down from the Jeep.

“Let’s hope. It’s one of the three busiest weekends, right?” At least if nothing had changed in the decade I’d been gone. The dirt road that served as Alba’s main source of income was a kaleidoscope of colors as tourists wandered.

“Yep. Mother’s Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day. Just like clockwork.” She held out her hand, and I took it. “You ready?”