It was also no secret in certain sets of Denver that my brother Lee played shit fast and loose and wasn’t above doing what he had to do to get the job done. And what he had to do also might not always be lawful.

I admired Lee. He was badass cool, didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him and forged his own path.

So who was I to judge?

But the bottom line of it was, I was me and if I wanted something, I got it or took it, whatever the case may be. And, like Lee, I didn’t give a shit what anybody thought of it or how I went about getting it.

And right then, I wanted Ren Zano.

I’d always thought I was the white hat type of girl. I’d always gone for the good guy.

But maybe I didn’t mind that hat being a little dusty.

“I know you,” I confirmed.

“So, you know me. You got a problem with getting in a taxi with me, comin’ to my place, letting me take your clothes off and then letting me do a shitload of other things to that beautiful body?”

His eyes traveled down my front as he asked this.

As for me, I felt my nipples get hard as he asked this.

I also knew the answer to his question.

I had absolutely no problem with that.

So I said, “Actually, I would have a problem if you didn’t do any of that.”

His eyes came back to mine.

They were beautiful normally. Hot with open anticipation, they were amazing, and they did amazing things to me. As in, for the first time in my life, just looking at a guy, I might have had a mini-orgasm.

He took out his wallet. Then he threw a bunch of bills on the table, grabbed my hand and yanked me out of the booth.

Then he put me in a taxi.

He gave me my first orgasm on the stairs in his house and he didn’t take off all my clothes before he did it.

The next two were in his bed and we were both naked.

By the time the sex and booze wore us both down to the point of passing out, tangled together in his wine colored sheets, I knew I’d found it.

Something big, bold, bountiful and amazing.

Something that wasn’t about meatloaf and missionary sex.

Something that was about looking forward to a life that was going to be a bumpy ride filled with jerks and quick turns and unexpected stops and hair-raising plummets… and loving every minute of it.

So lying on those wine colored sheets, I smiled just as Ren, his body and heat curved into my back, his arm around me, shifted closer. His hand drifted up and curled around my breast and I felt his face burrow into the back of my hair.

I smiled bigger.

Then he murmured sleepily, “Ava.”

My mind blanked, my heart squeezed and my eyes blinked.

His hand dropped from my breast but his arm stayed around me, his body pressed into the back of mine.

I didn’t move.

Then I did.

Carefully, I slid from under his arm and away from him. Silently, I got out of bed. Stealthily, I found my clothes and put them on.

All but my shoes.

I wanted to make no noise on his wood floors.

I looked at his sleeping beauty in the bed, his olive skin sheathing his defined muscles exposed from the waist up, his dark hair falling on his forehead, his handsome features relaxed to almost boyish (but still hot) in sleep, and the cut on his lip put there by Luke’s fist.

Taking all that was him in, I felt something die in me.

As I mentioned, I was not girlie. I was not prone to romance or fantasy.

I’d only given myself that this one time.

No, Ren had given it to me.

In one night, he made me believe in the modern-day fairytale I watched all my girls get, and he made me believe life had that in store for me.

And he made me want it.

Ava. The memory of his deep, drowsy murmur assaulted my brain.

Hearing that, he took it all away.

So I got the fuck out of there.

* * * * *

Fifteen and a half hours later…

My eyes opened when I heard the banging on the door.

I stared at the clock on my nightstand.

Jeez, it was after midnight.

Well, one couldn’t say this kind of thing didn’t happen occasionally. I had a variety of feelers out on a variety of things and information trickled in in a variety of ways.