She’d put it all on Dean’s barely adult shoulders. Made it his job to save her. To protect her from the loneliness. To give her a place to fit into. And he’d loved her enough to say yes.

Even after he’d found his voice, even after he’d whispered the truth she should have already known, he still loved her. He still protected her.

And she was still using him to keep the loneliness at bay.

“Well, shit,” she muttered to herself. The truth of it hit her like a wheelbarrow handle to the solar plexus. Before she could chicken out, she pulled out her phone, opened her texts, and typed.

Maggie: I really do want you to have the life you want. There’s someone out there who’s been waiting for your surly, snarky ass their entire life. It’s not fair for me to hog your sour disposition all to myself.

His response was quick.

Dean: No one will ever knock you off your shrewish pedestal in my cold, shriveled heart.

Maggie: Love you, shithead.

Dean: Love you back, weirdo.

On a long sigh, she stowed the phone back in her pocket. She felt sad. And turned on. And terrified. Things were changing again, and she had no control over them. Change in her life hadn’t been good. It had been hard. Painful.

She needed to calm the eff down. She didn’t get carried away. No matter how fine Silas’s butt looked in a pair of jeans, she wasn’t about to throw her career away and settle down with the cute landscaper from Idaho.

Shifting gears, she studied Silas’s home.

The professional in Maggie approved of the curb appeal, the whole aesthetic. She hadn’t made a mistake in hiring Mr. Wright. Unless, of course, being able to think about nothing but the feel of his erection grinding against her turned out to be a problem.

Whoops. And there she was thinking about it again. How instantaneous and overwhelming his reaction had been to the kiss. She’d never been pushed up against anything before. Damn if she didn’t like it.

Joyful barking erupted inside, followed by a loud crash.

Then Silas reappeared on the porch in a white hoodie with Kevin on a leash. “I said i-c-e c-r-e-a-m, and he knocked the couch over,” he reported. She wasn’t sure if he was joking.

The dog pranced down the sidewalk to her, shivering with delight.

“Who’s a good boy?” Maggie asked, squishing his giant face between her hands.

“Not Kevin,” Silas said dryly. “You sure you want to walk? That bed in there looks awfully comfortable.”

“Nice try. We’re walking, and you’re feeding us ice cream.”

Kevin made a whimpery moan of delight.

“Hey,” Silas said, his voice suddenly serious. “What’s wrong? Something happen while Hercules here busted up my furniture?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”