I hoist myself up onto the first limb and climb a long-ago-memorized path up to a sturdy branch for the perfect view. I position my hunter green stretch twill dress over my legs and settle in. I pull the lens cap off the binoculars and point them at Gavin’s window.

If Erma’s right and he’s back…

Then…

“What are you doing in my tree?”

I startle and drop the binoculars. The strap catches them and they thud against my chest. My heart pounds.

Gavin.

I look down at the man and catch my breath.

Even from fifteen feet away his blue eyes hold me in place. For a moment, I can’t move. I don’t remember there being this much awareness between us, or of him having this much command in the way he stands.

I want to agree. This is his tree, his field, his world, and I’m his too. I can almost touch the pull between us, the need and connection is so strong.

“Gavin.” My voice comes out husky and hopeful.

His head snaps back. His demeanor shifts, it was open before, now it’s glacial cold. His hooded eyes narrow on me, and even though I’m fifteen feet above him, it feels like he’s looking down on me.

Oh no.

Oh, no no no.

He’s not Gavin.

I can tell from the expression on his face. He has that sort of permanently superior, elevated-above-humanity, never-made-a-mistake-in-his-life expression that grates on me.

“Hello, William. Long time no see.” I swallow my embarrassment at my inappropriate reaction to him. He’s not Gavin.

“Jessie,” he acknowledges. Then, “Why are you in my tree?” His voice is colder than before.

“It’s not your tree. Besides, I’m birdwatching. Your property ends two feet behind you.” I point to a patch of blue chicory flowers in the field behind him.

He doesn’t turn around to look. He just folds his arms across his chest and lifts an eyebrow.

Years ago, I tried to be his friend, but I quickly learned William Williams IV doesn’t need friends. He just needs a checkbook, a ledger, and a business. Even at fifteen he was a cold, arrogant robot.

“Anyway…” I say, hoping he leaves.

“Are you aware, being a peeping Tom is a criminal offense?”

My cheeks flush. “I’m not! I can’t even see anything.”

A satisfied smile spreads over his face and I realize I practically admitted to what I’m doing. I look at his expensive captain-of-industry suit and wonder how I mistook him for Gavin.

Will grabs the lowest branch on the tree and boosts himself up. I gasp as the tree shakes.

“What are you doing?” I squeak.

The branches are thick and sturdy and beautifully spaced for climbing. William, six foot three, muscular and fit, has no trouble climbing up, even in a suit.