I know why she drives me insane.

I know why I want to see her knocked down a few pegs.

I know why my dick betrays me around her.

But … hell if I know why I feel this need to fix her.

When the fire dies to small glowing embers, I whistle for Swarley to get in the tent. Avery doesn’t move. I set the bucket of water next to her chair instead of extinguishing the rest of the fire. She doesn’t resist me when I lift her from the chair and sit my butt down with her cradled on my lap, her cheek resting on my chest.

I press a hand to the side of her head and kiss her soft hair. “My favorite songs are acoustic. Just a piano or a guitar and a voice. Sometimes I don’t even realize how much I like a song until it’s stripped down. The words mean more. The emotions are magnified. It’s like the stars … During the day we don’t see them, but at night when the world around us feels stripped and bare, they shine so brightly.”

I rest my cheek on the top of her head. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as you are in this very moment.”

And oh so slowly … she looks up at me.

Chapter Fourteen

Avery

I let my hand touch his face, let my fingertips ghost along his jaw. Jake doesn’t move. When a man says something like that, it’s hard to not want to give him everything. Tears fill my eyes, because I want to give him something I’ve never really given to a man.

The truth.

“My mom died when I was eight. I look just like she did.” A bittersweet smile pulls at my lips as my hand slides down to rest on Jake’s chest. I lay my head next to my hand and stare at the orange and red embers. “She was too pretty to be a preacher’s wife. Beautiful curves hidden behind conservative clothes. My dad used to tell me physical beauty should be a gift given to your husband on your wedding night. A man should fall in love with your heart.

“But sometimes when my dad traveled on mission trips and Sydney would spend the night at a friend’s house, my mom dug black satin and silk slips from her dresser drawer and we’d wear them like sexy dresses. She curled our hair and pinned it up with little ringlets hanging down. She applied her makeup, extra heavy, and put some blue eyeshadow, pink blush, and red lipstick on me. Then we slipped on high heels from her closet, which weren’t very high, and we tied scarves around our necks and danced in her bedroom to Donna Summer’s ‘Hot Stuff,’ using hairbrushes as microphones.”

Jake’s chest vibrates with a soft chuckle.