My poor teenaged adult heart. It didn’t care if Fisher was good for me. It didn’t care about anything other than the way he made me feel in that moment. I released the chain with my right hand and threaded my fingers through his hair.

“I’m trying so hard…” I whispered, my voice shaky in my chest and wobbly as the words fell from my lips “…trying so hard not to fall in love with you.”

A few breaths later, he whispered back, “I know.”

I didn’t know what that meant. He knew I was falling in love with him? Or he, too, was trying to keep from loving me?

It didn’t matter, not at that moment. All that mattered was he knew me.

Fisher released my waist and sat back on his heels, resting his hands on the top of my work boots dangling in front of him. “What do you want?” He gave me his eyes and a world of sincerity in them.

It shook me.

Maybe because I had never experienced real love in the romantic sense.

Maybe because I was scared.

Maybe because I didn’t really know what I wanted.

“The Porsche Cayenne,” I said, giving him the tiniest of smiles because I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t emotionally ready to answer that question.

Him.

I wanted him, but I had no idea what that really looked like. Me, an eighteen-year-old teenaged adult with no real direction, and him, a twenty-eight-year-old adult with his own house, his own business, and many people relying on him.

We couldn’t have been at more different places in our lives, yet … we somehow found each other. And there was something there.

Something undeniable.

Something real.

Something I wasn’t ready for, but I sure didn’t want to let it go.

With a painful flash of amusement, he returned the hint of a grin and nodded while standing and holding out his hand to me. “Can you afford the Cayenne?”

I nodded.

“Then get the Cayenne.”

Resting my hand in his, I hopped off the swing. He interlaced our fingers and led me back to the Forester. We returned the keys and got in his truck to go to work.

Fifty grand. That’s what I needed to ask my grandparents to give me because I wanted the Cayenne because it was sexy and fun—just like the naked fisherman.

He dropped me off at the office. And later that day, he asked Hailey to give me a ride home since he had to play catch up from taking me car shopping.

“Good timing,” Rory said, getting out of her Outback right as I climbed out of Hailey’s truck. “Hey, Hailey. Long time no see. How are you?”

“Good, Rory,” Hailey said with her window down. “How was California?”

“Good, but I’m sure glad to be back here. Thanks for giving Reese a ride home.”