Taking the Heat

He turned off her lights and locked the thumb lock on her front door before he stepped outside, grateful that he had time alone to process what she’d said to him. Still, he was smiling as he hit the sidewalk and headed for his own place a block away. No, Veronica Chandler was nothing like he’d thought she’d be. And he was kind of...thrilled.

CHAPTER FIVE

VERONICA KNEW SHE was hungover before she even opened her eyes, but opening her eyes confirmed the state. Even the weak dawn light filtering past her blinds made her groan in pain. She’d had a hangover only twice before, but there was no mistaking the symptoms. Fuzzy tongue, queasy stomach, pounding headache.

Keeping her eyes closed, she sat slowly up and swung her feet over the bed. The room spun a little, but her stomach didn’t protest too much, thank God. In fact, a glass of cold milk sounded like something she’d pay a million dollars for. Promising herself a reward of returning to bed in just a few minutes, she pushed to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the lights.

After the bathroom, she headed slowly to the fridge, hissing in pain like a vampire when the fridge light burned her retinas. She squeezed her eyes shut and managed to find the milk and get the door closed without having to brave the light again. She gulped down half a glass of milk, popped some ibuprofen and trudged back to her room.

She sank into her mattress with a sigh. “I should take off this dress,” she muttered to no one, but it seemed like a Herculean task. She pulled the covers over her head and slept.

The next time she woke up, the room was much brighter, but her headache was gone. Her body still ached, and her stomach felt hollow, but that was the worst of it. She was bone-dry, though, and when she saw the water on her bedside table, she sat up and gulped the rest of it down.

“God, I’m an idiot,” she moaned. She couldn’t remember how many martinis she’d had, but there’d been at least two before the show, and two was really her limit. She remembered the nice waitress and she remembered sitting with Gabe, and then... Then she’d obviously stumbled home and fallen into bed without even taking off her dress.

Looking down at herself, she winced. There were deep creases all over the pretty blue knit. She’d have to hand wash it and hope it recovered.

Veronica climbed from bed and struggled out of her dress and bra, then dug out yoga pants and a big T-shirt. This time, when she got to the bathroom, she turned on the light and regretted it immediately. Not because of her hangover, but because of what she saw in the mirror.

“Oh, holy mother of God,” she wheezed, staring wide-eyed at the hot mess that looked back at her. Her hair stood up in crazed tufts, as if she’d twisted her head into her pillow for half the night. Her skin was sallow and sickly looking, as befitted a woman with a hell of a hangover. But worst of all were her eyes, which were bloodshot and ringed with layers of purple and gray and black makeup that looked like a bruised rainbow.

Veronica dove for her bathroom drawer and frantically pulled out her makeup wipes. It took five minutes to get the eye makeup off, but the slight purplish tinge beneath her eyes wouldn’t budge. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Her skin felt invigorated, at least, though after all the scrubbing, she now looked as if she had pinkeye.

“Never again,” she promised herself. “No martinis next week.”

She was craving a hot breakfast, but no way was she leaving her house to grab anything. Even a hoodie and big sunglasses couldn’t cure her self-consciousness, so she ventured into her kitchen to see what she had. The inside of her fridge didn’t present the best options, but she did find cheese and some egg substitute. A bad omelet, then.

She set her finds on the counter, closed the fridge, then turned to flip the light switch, wincing instinctively at the shock of brightness.

But it was fine. She was fine. Because she’d been smart enough to get up and take ibuprofen hours before. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could handle a party lifestyle, after all.

She turned back to face the fridge, paused to feel her heart skip in her chest and then she screamed.

The white notebook paper stood out against the black door. Hand pressed to her mouth in horror, Veronica backed up until her ass hit the other counter. “No,” she whispered against her fingers. “No, no, no, no, no.”

#1—Let people see the real you.

“No!” she yelled at the paper.

Those bold black words were all it took for the whole evening to rush back at her. The way she’d flirted with Gabe, the way she’d told him she was flirting with him, the drunk, stumbling walk back to her apartment and then...

“Noooo,” she moaned, pressing her hand hard to her mouth as if she could somehow stop the words that had passed her lips the night before.

She’d told him her deepest secret. Confessed what no one could ever know. And then she’d asked if he’d help her take care of it.

Her stomach, which had felt merely hollow before, now churned with acid and sickness. It rose up and pushed at her throat. Veronica shook her head. She pressed her whole hand to her mouth, but there was no defeating it. She gave in and rushed to the bathroom.

She didn’t feel any better after she was sick. She only felt more pitiful, more wrung out. She’d told Gabe MacKenzie, the new hot guy in town, that she had no experience with fucking. And then she’d practically begged him to apply his penis to her charitable enterprise.

He’d somehow managed to resist her siren song, even after she’d started crying.

Oh, my God, she’d started crying while she asked him to come to bed with her.

He hadn’t come to bed. Thank God. What if he’d stayed? What if he’d spent the night and then woken up to find her goggling at him with her zombie raccoon eyes just before she vomited all over his naked body?

“Oh, God.” Yes, that was one way to look at the bright side of things. She hadn’t talked him into taking her virginity and then thrown up on his penis.

Veronica rinsed out her mouth, splashed cold water on her face and then tipped her head up to stare herself down in the mirror. Water dripped slowly from the pink tip of her nose. “I’ll have to move,” she said, watching the way her chin trembled. “I’ll have to start over in a new place where no one knows my shame.”

It was really the only solution. It was exactly what she’d tell anyone who wrote in to her. Leave immediately. Take only what you can carry. Slip out of town under cover of night. Start somewhere new and this time try not to be a pitiful disaster.

Except that wasn’t what she would say. She was overreacting. A little.

So what would she tell herself?

She felt dizzy at the thought. Or maybe she was dizzy from having consumed nothing but martinis and milk in the past twelve hours.

Feet dragging, she headed back to the kitchen to make her sad omelet. She might be having the same thing for lunch and dinner. She obviously couldn’t leave the house today.

She accidentally caught sight of the fridge as she poured the egg mixture into a pan. The black letters of the note glared at her. Let people see the real you? What a shitty idea that had been. She snatched the paper off the fridge and threw it into the trash. At least she could say she’d really tried it. The real her had been on full display last night. She’d given it her all. She’d practically shown him her real crotch.

She seasoned the omelet, flipped it over and added cheese. Then extra cheese.

Overreaction or not, she couldn’t leave town. She had nowhere to go. Jackson was the place she’d already retreated to. Her safe zone. Not that it had ever felt safe.

She could flee to her dad’s latest house. Abandon her pretense of independence and go live in one of his professionally decorated guest rooms. That wouldn’t feel exactly safe, either, but she’d still have a lot of privacy. His “cabin” was in the mountains and the closest neighbors were almost a mile away. Granted, that closest neighbor was Isabelle, one of Veronica’s best friends, but she was too much of a hermit to cause problems. And Veronica’s dad wouldn’t bother her. She’d hardly seen him at all the last time she’d stayed there.

Still...maybe she wasn’t as destroyed as she thought she was, because the thought of moving to her dad’s house lit a fire inside her, a burning fire that felt a lot like heartburn. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not completely.

She ate her sad omelet and took a shower and put on a slightly less baggy T-shirt that made her small breasts look slightly more visible. She used some Visine and brushed her teeth and styled her hair. That was good, safe advice she could give herself. You’ll feel better if you make an effort, even if it’s just brushing your teeth.

She peeked out her front window, then backed quickly away when she saw people walking past.

Gabe knew where she lived. What if he stopped by? She’d made him promise, after all. But surely he never wanted to be in her presence again. Surely he’d play it safe and assume that a promise made to an insane drunk girl wasn’t meant to be kept.

So she was stuck here. Her apartment was the safest place for her. She could do her work and sneak out only during Gabe’s work hours. Maybe she could somehow get his schedule from Lauren. Yes. Avoidance. That was the best tactic.

Unless he decided to share his story. It was pretty funny, after all. Really funny. Veronica was the only one who wouldn’t be laughing. And maybe Veronica’s boss. He wouldn’t find it funny at all.

“Shit,” she breathed. Gabe didn’t seem the type to gossip. He seemed entirely trustworthy. But she’d met him only twice. Maybe he was a catty, cruel asshole. Maybe he was the kind of guy who would’ve hung out with Veronica’s stepbrother in high school and laughed every time she walked by. Maybe he’d already texted his ten closest friends and then spread the tale around the library.

Veronica checked her phone to see if Lauren had texted or called. But no, there were no messages from Lauren. Or Veronica’s boss. And there weren’t any accusatory emails from readers, either.

But there were quite a few emails asking for help from Dear Veronica. She should really get to work.

Even so, she switched back to her texts and stared at Lauren’s name. Maybe Lauren would have good advice to give. And Isabelle, too. Maybe Veronica could tell her friends at least some of the truth and see what they thought.

But what if they just stared at her in horror and then made excuses never to see her again? They were both a little older and a lot more together. Lauren had already raised a kid and sent him off to college, and her new boyfriend was a silver-fox fire captain. And Isabelle was a successful artist who owned her own land and was dating a studly US marshal. Veronica really had nothing in common with either of them, but they’d still included her, inviting her along for girls’ nights out and treating her as an equal. She didn’t want them to know that she wasn’t an equal. Didn’t want to admit she was a fraud.

But the next girls’ night was on Sunday. And she was getting a little tired of always being on guard. What if she treated them like real friends instead of just women who intimidated her?

She had a few days to work up to it. She could always change her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she took her notebook and marker from the drawer.

#2, she wrote, Ask your friends for help. She stuck it to the fridge and stared at it for a whole minute. It looked wrong up there by itself, so she set her jaw and pulled the first note from the trash to put it back in its place.

Her stomach tensed at the sight of both notes together, but she nodded. Two tiny things. Two basic pieces of advice that she’d give anyone. Surely she could pull this off. She needed help from her friends, and the only way to get it was to reveal a few tiny bits of herself. No big deal. No problem.

She turned off the kitchen light and took her computer to her room. She had a few days. She’d start dealing with her issues on Sunday. But today? Today she’d hide.

She put in her earbuds, cranked up the music and started reading letters. And the letters started to help her feel halfway normal.

CHAPTER SIX

GABE EYED LAUREN as they shut down the library together. He’d been eyeing her all day, hoping that interacting with her would somehow help him understand Veronica better. Did Lauren know the truth? Did it even matter? It wasn’t as if Gabe could ask her about it.

The girl he’d been flirting with last night was a virgin. The thought still stunned him, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was only that he’d assumed since college that any woman he might date was probably as experienced as he was, give or take a couple of partners.

But Veronica had never had sex. Or she’d “pretty much” never had sex.

He frowned at the shelves as he straightened a few books. What the hell had that meant? Had she said it just to drive him insane?

Clearing his throat, he watched Lauren as she shut down the computer monitors. “I saw the Dear Veronica show last night,” he finally ventured as he hit the switch on the entryway lights.

“Oh, I was having dinner with Jake’s family and I couldn’t make it. Was it great?”

“It was pretty amazing,” he answered, wincing a little at how accurate that assessment was. He grabbed some paper towels and helped Lauren wipe down tables in the children’s section. “She’s really good at doing that in front of an audience.”

“She is!” Lauren beamed at him. “You wouldn’t believe how worried she was about it. But I knew she’d be great. She’s good at everything. She just needs a little more confidence.”

Right. He nodded. “How long have you known her?”

Lauren shot him a curious look that he pretended not to see. “About a year. I didn’t meet her until after she moved back to town.”

“Why’d she leave New York?”

“I’m not sure. You should ask her about it.” Her smile wasn’t subtle.

Gabe shook his head. “I’m just curious.” He left off the “because she asked me to have sex last night.”

“Good,” Lauren said. “She’s very interesting.”

That was putting it mildly. Veronica was so damn interesting, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d thought about her all night until he’d fallen asleep. He’d thought about her all day. He’d wondered how she’d feel about their conversation once she was sober. He’d tried to figure out how he felt about it. He’d imagined what it would be like to sleep with her.

That had felt a little wrong since he hardly knew her and she was...kind of innocent? But that kind of wrongness didn’t exactly put a damper on sexual interest. She was pretty. She had great legs. Her smile made him happy. And she thought he was gorgeous.

Shit.

He retreated to the office to shut down the documents he’d been working on, though he hated doing it. He was just getting into the good stuff of figuring out which ebook lending system would work best with the library, but there’d be plenty of time to work on it tomorrow.

“Ready?” Lauren asked, reaching past him to grab her purse.

“Sure. I’ll walk you to your car.”

She laughed over her shoulder as she hit the last of the lights and headed for the back door. “Seriously?”

“Right. I got used to working in downtown Cincinnati.”

“Well, we do have to keep an eye out for bears. And there were rumors of a mountain lion in Jackson Square last year, but I suspect old Mrs. Smith was drunk again. She does love a good whiskey sour.”

She held open the door, then locked it behind her once he was through. “Hey, guys,” she called to the three firemen sitting in folding chairs near their door.

“Jesus, Lauren!” one called. “When I said you should hire a hot new librarian, that wasn’t what I meant!”

“Gabe,” she said drily, “that’s William, and those other two are Henry and Elliott. I’m afraid they’re a little disappointed with you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “They’re probably just jealous because they can’t grow facial hair.”

“Hey!” William yelled back. “We can—we’re just not allowed to.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

The other firefighters razzed William as Gabe walked away.

“We’ll work this out on the court!” William called.

“You got it,” Gabe answered, happy for the excuse to get in a little time on the fire station’s outdoor basketball court. They seemed to pick up games at all hours of the morning and night, and Gabe missed the public courts near his apartment in Cincinnati.

“Night, Lauren,” he said as she headed toward her car and he set out for his apartment on foot. He was keenly aware that Veronica’s building was on his way.

If he took a right at the next street, he’d miss her place by one block. He could walk home, go for a run, relax with a book afterward. And be distracted the whole time that she might be waiting to hear from him.

He’d promised her, after all. He didn’t have to take her up on her...request, but he did have to get in touch. Tonight or tomorrow or at her next performance.

The idea of leaving it until next Thursday tightened his shoulders into such painful knots that Gabe went straight through the intersection and headed toward Veronica’s apartment. Hell, the most likely outcome was that she didn’t remember anything and he could try to forget the whole thing, too.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered. Still, at least he wouldn’t have to wonder if she was worrying.

And there was the chance that she remembered every detail and wanted to pick up where they’d left off.

He took off his tie, freed the top button of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves as if he were preparing himself for an arduous task. Two more blocks and he was at her condo building. He turned up her walk and then knocked on the door without giving himself time to think about it.

The nearest window was sealed up tight, but he could see light through the peephole in the door. He waited a few moments, listening for the sound of footsteps, then rang the doorbell.

Still nothing. The street was quiet out front. He leaned closer, trying to tell if the faint sound of movement he’d heard was coming from her place. Nothing. He was turning to leave when he saw the light in the peephole flicker to dark for a split second. He squared his shoulders, trying to think what he’d say when she opened the door.

She didn’t open the door.

He frowned. Leaned closer. Lifted his hand to knock again, but he let his knuckles hover just above the wood.

“Veronica?” he called. She didn’t respond. “It’s Gabe. Gabe MacKenzie. From last night.”

There was a soft sound, like a breath or the brush of fabric. He waited for the lock to click open. It didn’t.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Veronica?”

“I’m fine,” she finally said through the wood.

His tight shoulders relaxed. “Good. I thought you might be a little hungover.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice more muffled now. “A little.”

“Are you up for talking?”

The wood stared silently at him.

He winced and lowered his voice. “Listen, Veronica, it’s no big deal.”

The lock finally clicked. The door swung in. He was startled to see her without her heels again, inches shorter than he expected her to be. She looked different in other ways, too. Younger, really, her blue eyes naked of makeup and her face a little paler. She crossed her arms snugly over the plain gray T-shirt she wore.

“We don’t need to talk,” she said.

“Are you sure? I did make you a promise.” He offered a smile, but she only cringed.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “Like, really, really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Honestly.”

“No, it’s not. But we don’t ever need to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? Because if you did, I could—”

“Hey.” He started to reach toward her, but the tight way she was holding herself made him hesitate. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” One of her shoulders rose in a shrug. “Because I’m living a lie. Because it’s funny. Because it’s so fucking weird.”

“Jesus, Veronica. That’s crazy. I don’t think it’s funny or weird.”

“It’s a little funny,” she insisted. “You know it is.”

He thought of her confession and ducked his head to hide a smile. “Okay, I admit I’m intrigued by the ‘pretty much’ part.”

She groaned, but when he glanced up at her, he noticed that her hands had relaxed. She wasn’t gripping her arms nearly as firmly now.

Gabe leaned against the door frame. “I haven’t said a word to anyone and I never will. I swear.”

“Okay,” she said, squeezing herself tight again. She looked tired.

“I just got off work. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”

She shot a look toward her kitchen. “Kind of.”

“Kind of? Is that like ‘pretty much’?”

“Shut up,” she said, pouting a little now. He noticed that her lips were full and pink even without lipstick.

“Come to dinner. We can have a drink and talk.”

“Nope. I never want to have a drink or talk again.”

“Food, though?” he pressed. “Food sounds good?”

Her head dropped. She took a deep breath. “I’m not even dressed.”

“You look dressed to me.”

“I’m wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt.”

“Throw on a hoodie and you’ve got a look. Let’s go.”

She finally cracked a smile, though she tried to hide it. Gabe ducked down and met her eye. “Come on. You’ve got to eat.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on leaving the house today.”

“Why?”

She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. “Because I didn’t want to take the chance I’d run into you.”

“Well, shit, I really screwed that up. No wonder you didn’t want to see me. I’ve ruined everything.”

“You’re a dork,” she muttered, but this time there was no hiding her smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and her gaze rose to his. He suddenly remembered the way she’d leaned close and whispered the word fucking to him the night before.

Gabe stood straighter and cleared his throat. “What sounds good? Mexican?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“Mexican is always good after a hangover. Come on. My treat.”

Despite what he thought was an inspiring tone, she still stared doubtfully at him for quite a while. He wasn’t sure why he felt so invested in getting her out for dinner, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“I look like shit,” she finally said.

“You’re beautiful,” he answered.

Her face flickered in a brief frown, but she hid it quickly. “Whatever. I’m starving. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Gabe stopped himself from raising a fist in triumph.

She slipped on flip-flops, took a hoodie from the closet by the door and grabbed her keys. Her toenails were painted bright blue. Gabe knew it was a bad sign that he found that impossibly cute.

They headed toward a place four blocks away that even Gabe already knew was the best Mexican in town. She had her arms crossed tight again, pushing her breasts up in a way that caught Gabe’s eye.

Damn. There was no way to pretend she hadn’t told him what she’d told him. She clearly wanted to forget, but Gabe might need electroshock therapy to shake last night loose. Are you sure you won’t stay? He was afraid she’d never ask that again.

When they reached a busier street, Veronica pulled her fleece jacket on and tugged up the hood as if she was hiding.

“No one else knows,” he said in a stage whisper.

“I know,” she sighed, “but I’m supposed to have my shit together. I’m not supposed to be the depressed, hungover girl who hides in her house in old yoga pants all day. I really can’t believe I’m dressed like this in front of you, of all people.”

“Me? Why? My hobbies are basically sweating in the woods, reading in my underwear and nerding out on my computer. Flannel shirts and workout gear make up about fifty percent of my closet.”

“Fine, but you’re just...” She waved a hand up and down his body just as she had the night before. “Whatever. I told you last night.”

“Sure, but I thought that was the alcohol talking. Are you saying you really think I’m beautiful?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to bring up every word I said last night.”

“Not every word. But that one was pretty good.”

“Like I’m the first girl to call you beautiful,” she muttered.

Gabe laughed. “I swear to God, you’re the first. And probably the last. So let me enjoy it.”

Her face was pink with embarrassment, but she was smiling as Gabe reached for the door of the restaurant and waved her in. “How about a margarita?” he asked with a wink.

“You’re a monster,” she answered, not even looking at him as she breezed past.

“Sorry.”

Service was quick, one of the benefits of living in a tourist town during the off-season. The full-time residents could eat cheap and fast at even the best restaurants because they were dying to get people in.

They both ordered quickly. Gabe got a beer, but Veronica stuck with water. “Lots of water,” she explained to the waiter. She glared at Gabe when he smiled.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he explained. “I’m laughing with you.”

“I don’t think I’ve quite reached the ‘this will be funny someday’ point.”

“Wrong. You already pointed out how funny it was,” he said before he popped a chip into his mouth. “God, they’ve got great salsa.”

She took a bite and closed her eyes. “They really do.”

“This is so much better than anything I could find in Ohio.”

When the waiter brought his beer, Gabe took a long draw before sitting back in his chair. Veronica looked much more relaxed now. And pretty as hell. She’d pushed the hood off when they’d entered the restaurant and her hair was a little...askew. But he liked it. She looked touchable. Flawed. Fuckable.

“Can I ask you something?” he ventured.

“No,” she answered immediately, but then she sighed, her gaze flashing up to him before she looked at the chips again. “Fine, go ahead,” she said, then stuffed a chip into her mouth.

“How did you manage to get through high school and college and New York City without ever having sex?”

Her expression didn’t change. She wasn’t shocked by the question. She must have known that he would ask.

She folded her hands and leaned forward, her voice going quiet. “You have to swear you won’t tell anyone, Gabe. Nobody else knows. I wish you didn’t know. I don’t know why I told you.”

“I swear,” he answered immediately.

“I was so drunk.”

“I get it,” he promised.

“You can’t even tell Lauren,” she said.

He felt his eyes go wide. “I guarantee that I don’t discuss sex with Lauren. Or any other woman in my workplace.”

“Of course. I just...” She waved a hand. “This is just embarrassing. And ridiculous.”

“I’m sure there are a lot of people who’ve never—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Not people who claim some expertise in the area!”

He nodded. “Okay. I get that.”

“And even aside from that, it’s just... It was okay for a while, you know? I wasn’t a popular girl in high school. It was complicated. I didn’t really go out with anyone. Not seriously. I dated in college, but back then I thought I wanted my first time to be special. I wanted to be in love. Now I wish I’d just slept with that cute guy in my philosophy class during sophomore year. I can’t even remember his name now. That would’ve been perfect.”

Gabe smiled. “I’m sure he’d have thought so, too.”

“After college I went to New York, and then... God, then it was like a weird weight I was dragging around with me. I felt like the only adult virgin in the whole damn city. I told one guy. Only one. And then I never told anyone again. Until you.”

The last words could have been meaningful and sweet, but she said them with the rough edge of frustrated regret so that they sounded like “Until you, asshole.” He tried not to take it personally.

“So what happened with that one guy you told?”

“He made a big speech about how he wasn’t ready to settle down. After we’d been on two dates. I mean, he actually stood up to pace back and forth in his living room as he talked about his five-year plan. It was as if I’d presented him with my virginity wrapped in a spell of eternal connection and topped with an engagement ring. Jesus, he was trying to get a BJ—I just thought he should know!”

Gabe tried not to laugh. He really did. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to control his amusement, but when she rolled her eyes and smiled, he burst out laughing. “You’re really good at painting a picture,” he managed to say, but then he had to stop and wipe tears from his eyes. “And you’re really, really funny.”

“Thank you,” she said, still shaking her head at his laughter. “That’s sweet. But I swear it wasn’t funny.”

“But he was just trying to get a BJ!” Gabe gasped, then totally lost it again.

Veronica finally laughed, too. “God, it was like he thought I was going to superglue his penis to me forever. Because that’s what I’d dreamed of my whole life. Getting my hands on a first-year stockbroker’s penis. And never letting go.”

She collapsed onto the table, laughing too hard to stay upright. Once his own laughter had died, Gabe found himself grinning at her, he was that damn happy he’d cheered her up.

“I guess things didn’t work out for you two?”

“No. I never saw him again. I’m sure we were both relieved by that.”

Their food arrived, and they settled into a silence that was surprisingly comfortable considering how little they knew each other. In fact, he didn’t know much about her at all, aside from maybe the most intimate of things.

“You grew up here, right?” he asked, deciding to drop the subject of her virginity for a while.

“Yes. My dad was an attorney here, then a judge. He’s a federal judge now, but this is his district. So I lived here until I went to college in Cheyenne.”