For a beat, I stand with my back to him. A thousand futures flash before me, and none of them have me ending up with Ash. Not one. Doesn't matter. If there's a world where someone like Ash Galvin finds me attractive, I'm seizing that future with both hands, even if it's not mine to take.

I rotate toward him, and he adjusts his hold to spin me into his arms. Our lips meet, hot, hungry, and desperate for more. His hand is in my hair, and mine is up the back of his shirt. The feel of his taut skin on my fingertips is something I've imagined a thousand times. My heart is beating so hard, I'm wondering what rate signals a heart attack, but I'll die a happy woman.

He lifts me up as though I weigh nothing and sets me on the counter, his big hands gripping my waist while our kiss goes on and on. He's a good kisser, and my imagination didn't do him justice. When he dips his tongue into my mouth, I thread my fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. I cannot get close enough. He tugs me forward, so our bodies are pressed tightly together. A terrible decision to kiss him, and so, so good.

The sound of the doorbell causes us both to break apart with a start, and we stare at each other for a beat, panting, before Ash glances at the clock.

"You stay here," he says, and he steps back to adjust himself. "Not sure who'd be banging down the door at half eleven, but can't be anything good."

I sit on the counter, and I run my fingers along the side of my face, trying to get my breathing under control. Did we really just do that? The lust haze has cleared a bit, and I'm wondering how much we've screwed things up between us.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I dig it out just as I hear Ash unlatch the door.

Shit. Gwen.

"Oh, my gosh!" Gwen's high pitched excitement bounces around the old house from the front entrance. "Have I got the right house? Are you Ash?"

I hop off the counter, and when I come out of the kitchen, my sister is in the foyer sizing up Ash like he's the last brownie at a campout. Annoyance zips through me, and I'm not sure if it's because of the interruption, the way she's looking at Ash, or the fact she wasn't supposed to be here for another twelve hours.

"You're here early," I say, and I hope my feelings aren't laced in my voice.

"I am!" She drops her bags on the floor and rushes across the distance to drag me into a hug. "I canceled my other flight and decided to fly standby. I dated a flight attendant for a hot minute, and he gave me all sorts of cost saving advice. And, well, here I am! Not sure you could have picked a house more in the middle of nowhere."

When I catch Ash's gaze over her shoulder, he rolls his eyes, and I almost burst into laughter. While they've never chatted, he's likely overheard enough of my video calls with her to know that this is a typical Gwen move. Completely oblivious to other people's time and planning.

She thinks I'm rigid, but she swings in completely the opposite direction. Spontaneous becomes thoughtless pretty quickly. In order to pick her up from the airport, because I was too much of a chicken to drive there on my own, Ash told his football team he couldn't play tomorrow so he could get her.

If she was perfectly capable of taking trains and cabs with her giant suitcases (why she has two huge suitcases for a ten-day trip is beyond me), she could have mentioned that during any of our planning discussions.

"You're not happy to see me?" Gwen asks, and when she draws back, she grips my upper arms to take in my expression.

"Just surprised." And incredibly sexually frustrated. Not that following through would have been the best plan, but it was definitely the direction I was headed in before the doorbell went. Now that Ash's proficiency in kissing has been established, I'm going to have a hard time not going back for another taste or seeing what other skills he's got. He's so tall and broad, it makes me wonder what hidden under his clothes.

"Did I interrupt something?" Gwen asks, and I realize Ash and I have locked gazes.

"No," I say, and heat creeps into my cheeks. Why do I have to be the type of person who blushes all the time?

"You don't work tomorrow, right? It's Sunday," Gwen says, and she loops her arm with mine. "Or do you? It's always work-work-work with you."

"You'll have to sleep with me tonight," I say, remembering we were going to move Joey into my room tomorrow before Gwen arrived. "Joey is in his room since we didn't know you were coming."

"I can sleep anywhere," she says, waving me off. "I once slept on the floor of a dirty airport."

Perhaps that was only a few hours ago. I press my lips together to keep from ruining her trip before it's even begun.

"Right," Ash says. "I'm cream crackered. Nice to meet you, Gwen. I'll let you two have a proper catch-up."

When he goes to move past me, my fingers itch to draw him close, keep him from leaving. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets, and I wonder if he's fighting the same urge.

"That accent!" Gwen drags me into the living room as soon as he's gone. "Makes me want to lick him. And I don't know what cream crackered is, but it sounds delicious."

The thought of licking him had also crossed my mind only minutes ago. Tongues and warm bodies—and terrible, terrible timing by my sister.

"Cream crackered just means tired. Please don't try to sleep with my nanny." I use my world-weary voice that I reserve for Gwen, but I mean it more than I would have meant it even twelve hours ago. If she makes a play for him, I might lose my mind.

"Have you slept with him?" she asks, tugging me down onto the couch beside her.

"No!" So close and yet not nearly close enough.

"I can't believe you ended up hiring a hot, and I mean like so fucking hot, male nanny. He looks nothing like a nanny. More like..." She scans the room as though looking for something helpful in here. "Vintage Brad Pitt. Fight Club, Brad Pitt. Arguably his hottest years."

I laugh and shake my head. "He looks nothing like Brad Pitt." Though I can sort of see her point. With his short hair and that I'm not taking any of your shit aura he has when you first meet him, it would be easy to think he's rougher and tougher than he is.

"A little bit." She holds her fingers close together. "The jawline. The short hair."

I'll give her those. Ash cuts his own hair every few weeks, and it's never more than an inch or two, but it suits him. He says it's less for Chloe to pull, but she's pretty much out of that stage. She's in the grab your face and slobber-all-over-you-while-mimicking-a-kiss stage.

"More Channing Tatum," I say, "but with tattoos and brown eyes."

"Yes!" Gwen says, and she points her finger at me. "Oh, my god. Yes." She crosses her arms and seems to be thinking about the comparison. "But the accent just elevates the whole thing." She swirls her hand around as though Ash is standing in front of her modeling just for her.

Though I've thought all kind of things about Ash, blatantly objectifying him, when I know he's so much more than a spectacular face, feels a bit strange to me. Having my sister lusting after him makes it doubly so.

"What's up for tomorrow?" Gwen asks.

"You mean now that we aren't going to Heathrow to get you?" I give her a wry smile. "Ash will probably go to his football match."

"I'm so excited to be here, but I thought your house would be bigger," Gwen says, and she peers around the living room with a frown. "And maybe more color. It's very white. Bland. I guess I can see why you'd like that."

I hold in a sigh of annoyance. It's a rental. Not as though I'm going to paint the place.

"We're going to have such a fun ten days together, I can feel it." She squeezes my arm.

Gwen and I have never had ten days in a row of fun together. But that doesn't matter because all I can think about is that Ash went to bed before we could talk about the kiss we shared, and I have no idea where that leaves us.

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