1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Martin

Four Months Later

J esse's waiting for me in baggage claim at the San Diego airport, looking tanned and relaxed in shorts and a T-shirt. He waves when he spots me, a grin lighting up his handsome face. My heart squeezes in my chest as I make my way to him, rolling my suitcase behind me. He looks much healthier and happier than he did the last time I saw him in person.

When he got in touch with me a few weeks after our night together to ask whether I would consider moving to California to help him build a similar shelter to The Open Door , I jumped at the chance. But that was before I realized the impact that night had on me. I knew at the time it wasn't a regular hookup; our connection was unlike anything I've experienced since I lost my partner more than twenty years ago. But I didn't figure on becoming borderline obsessed with him. It's been months now, and I've not been able to stop thinking about him. I'm concerned things are going to be awkward if I can't hide how much he's been occupying my mind.

I don't do relationships. Ever. Losing Richard gutted me so badly that I swore off romantic love forever, and I've never once regretted that choice. This strange obsession is making me a bit nervous, to tell the truth. But I committed to the job, and it's an amazing opportunity, so I can only hope things will settle down in my mind now that I'm here.

"You made it! Great to see you!" he exclaims, pulling me into a warm hug. I inhale his clean, citrusy scent, and my travel tension magically disappears.

"Good to see you too. Thanks for picking me up."

"Of course. I'm so glad you're here," he says, smiling warmly.

As Jesse loads my suitcase into his SUV, I suck in a lungful of the warm air. Palm trees line the street leading out of the airport, and lights from the ships in the bay twinkle as we pass by. It's late since the three-hour flight left after I finished my last official work day at The Open Door.

"Welcome to sunny San Diego!" he declares as he merges his SUV onto the interstate. "I can't wait to show you around."

"Happy to be here," I say, stifling a yawn. I'm used to moving a lot—it's how I've avoided attachments, romantic or otherwise, since Richard died. I never stay in one place for more than a couple of years, and saying goodbye to friends in each city every time I leave is draining. Leaving Seattle today was no different. I truly loved my time working closely with Penn, but I'm looking forward to this latest fresh start.

Jesse offered me his spare room until I can get properly settled in the area. I accepted, gratefully, but I'm wondering if that might not have been the best choice, given that I can't stop thinking about him. However, what's done is done at this point, and he does seem genuinely excited to host me.

Half an hour later, he pulls up in front of a small but stylish home in an older neighborhood just a couple of blocks from the ocean. The surrounding houses are a mix of beautifully remodeled older homes and more modern places. Jesse lives in one of the newer-looking, infill-style homes, and it's gorgeous, with huge picture windows and a crisp, white exterior.

"Welcome to my little slice of paradise." He grins. "Moonlight Beach, one of my favorite spots in the entire world, is just down the hill."

The distant sound of crashing waves and the salty tang in the air confirm the proximity to the shore as I get out of the car and follow him to the front door. Our hands brush as he hands me my suitcase, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. Goddammit. My attraction to him clearly hasn't dimmed at all in the last few months.

"Follow me. I'll show you your room first," he says, leading me up a set of stairs. "I hope this works for you." His voice is warm as I take in the space—a good-sized bedroom furnished with a modern but comfortable-looking bed, dresser, and a small seating area with a flat-screen TV on the wall and a large, cozy chair and ottoman combination that looks perfect for curling up with a good book.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Jesse." I set my bag down and turn to face him, very aware of how close he's standing.

His eyes meet mine, a flicker of heat passing between us. His pupils dilate as he swallows hard before clearing his throat. "I know it's late, but can I offer you anything to eat or drink?"

I glance at the clock, noting it's almost midnight. "No, I'm great, thanks. I might have a quick shower to rinse off the airplane funk before crawling into bed though," I say with a smile.

"Of course. Just make yourself at home." He licks his lips. "If, um, there's anything you need, or… whatever… I'm just down the hall."

"I appreciate that. Thanks, Jesse."

"Of course. Sleep well." He lingers a moment longer, his gaze roaming over my face as if memorizing every detail. Then, with a soft smile, he turns and heads for his own room.

I close the door and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. Sweet, suffering Jaysus. This is going to be even harder than I thought.

A few hours later, I wake to the tantalizing scent of bacon and coffee. For a moment, I'm disoriented, but then I remember—I'm in Jesse's house in San Diego.

Pulling on a T-shirt, I follow my nose downstairs to find him standing barefoot in front of the stove. He's wearing low-slung pajama bottoms and nothing else. The muscles in his back flex as he scrambles eggs in a large cast-iron pan, and my cock twitches in my own loose sleep pants. Quickly, I slide onto one of the barstools at the island, effectively concealing myself. Christ, I need to get a grip.

"Morning," I mumble, my voice rough with sleep.

Jesse turns, a bright smile lighting up his face. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Hope you're hungry."

The kitchen is warm and inviting, filled with morning sunlight. It's been years since anyone's cooked for me like this. A wave of contentment washes over me.

"Starving," I admit.

"Good. I thought I'd give you a real SoCal welcome, so I made us breakfast burritos. I hope you like Mexican food."

He sets a mug of steaming coffee in front of me before turning back to the stove, and I chuckle at the expression on the mug: "What, and I cannot stress this enough, the actual fuck?"

"Well, in truth, I can't say as I've ever had a breakfast burrito before," I say, and he gasps, his eyes going comically wide as he clutches his chest in mock horror.

"My god, you can't be serious? You've never had a breakfast burrito? Well, you'd better hold on to your balls, my good man, because mine are some of the best!"

I bark out a laugh. "I appreciate your confidence."

A few moments later, he slides a plate in front of me and watches expectantly as I pick up the burrito and take a bite. The flavors explode in my mouth: creamy eggs, crisp, salty bacon, spicy salsa, and a tortilla that practically melts in my mouth. "Holy shite, this is amazing," I say before shoving another bite into my mouth.

His eyes crinkle with pleasure. "Glad you approve."

"Approve? I might become addicted," I mumble, my mouth half-full.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, picking up his own burrito.

"Like the dead. That mattress is a dream."

We fall into easy conversation, our laughter mingling with the sound of crashing waves filtering in through the open window.

After breakfast, we take our coffee up to the rooftop patio, where we spend a few hours discussing plans for the shelter and community/job training center. By early afternoon, we're both ready for a break.

"I think I'm about done for today. What do you think?" Jesse asks, stretching his arms above his head. "We could walk down to Moonlight Beach."

I nod, grateful for the chance to clear my head. "Sounds perfect."

The sun is warm on my skin as we stroll down the hill toward the beach. I love how at ease Jesse seems here, his shoulders relaxed and a content smile playing on his lips.

"God, it's beautiful here," I murmur as we get to an overlook next to one of the iconic California lifeguard towers. The view nearly takes my breath away. Golden sand stretches for miles in both directions, kissed by gentle waves that shimmer in the afternoon sun. The Pacific Ocean is a mesmerizing tapestry of blues, from deep navy to vibrant turquoise. "It's almost too perfect to be real."

He smiles and sucks in a deep breath of the ocean air. "I agree. California's not like anywhere else."

He leads me down a set of wooden steps leading to the beach, and when we get to the bottom, we both kick off our shoes. The feel of the warm sand between my toes is delightful.

We amble along the beach as the setting sun paints the sky in hues of gold and pink, casting a magical glow over everything. The rhythmic crash of waves provides a soothing backdrop to our comfortable silence.

I sneak glances at Jesse. He seems lost in thought, a small smile playing on his lips. I can't help stealing glances at him as we walk, my eyes drawn to his profile like a magnet.

"I come here a lot to clear my head," he says softly. "The past two and a half years were rough, and I'm so grateful I had this place so close by. Some days, I'd come here two or three times in one day just to get out of the house. Something about the sound of the ocean always makes me feel more at peace."

"That makes sense," I say. "Coming here sounds like a pretty healthy coping mechanism."

I pause for a moment before asking one of the many questions that have been on my mind since our night together. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but how are you doing now that some time has passed? You seem much better than the last time I saw you."

He gives me a rueful smile before directing his gaze out to the ocean. "I'm a lot better, but I still have shitty days," he says, not looking at me. "The hardest thing is that I no longer trust my instincts, which isn't like me. I'm an entrepreneur, for god's sake, so being unsure about every move I make is a problem. Thankfully, my brother's been able to pick up my slack. If we weren't partners in Greenwood Energy , I'm not sure the company would have survived."

He lets out a sigh, still focused on the vast expanse of ocean beside us as we walk slowly on the packed sand, letting each wave just kiss our bare toes before it retreats back. "And it goes beyond work. My self-confidence is just one of the many casualties of my marriage. I still find it frustrating that I can't have a simple conversation the way I used to."

I cock my head to the side. "What do you mean by that?"

He stops, digging his toes into the cool, wet sand.

"I second-guess everything now. I don't take anything anyone says at face value anymore, and I question everything, evaluating whether I think people are telling the truth or whether I'm being fed a pack of lies." He shakes his head in frustration. "Making decisions on anything, from what I want to have for dinner all the way up to major issues at the company, takes forever because I spend so much time turning over every possible outcome in my head before I can commit. Classic decision paralysis. It's exhausting."

His voice is raw with pain, and I instinctively lean in, pressing my shoulder against his as we stand side by side, staring out at the ocean.

"I'm sorry it's been so hard for you," I say softly. "Hopefully, your confidence will recover with time."

He nods, bending down to snag a small rock off the beach and tossing it gently into the water. "I hope so too."

I crouch down beside him, my fingers sifting through the cool sand until they close around a smooth seashell. Rising, I turn to Jesse, the shell nestled in my palm. Words form on my tongue, but they evaporate the moment our eyes lock.

The air between us crackles with electricity. Jesse's brown eyes, flecked with gold in the fading sunlight, capture mine, and my breath catches in my throat. I want to comfort him, to wrap my arms around him and chase away his doubts. I want to taste those full lips again, to feel the heat of his body against mine.

His eyes flick to my mouth, and for a heartbeat, he seems about to close the distance between us. My pulse races, anticipation coiling in my gut.

Suddenly, a rogue wave surges up the beach, catching us both off guard. Water sloshes around our calves, soaking the hems of our rolled-up jeans.

"Jesus!" he yelps, jumping back.

I let out a startled laugh, the tension of the moment shattered. "Fuck me, that's colder than I thought!"

His rich laughter joins mine, the sound warming me from the inside out. "So much for staying dry," he chuckles, shaking water from his feet.

We share a grin and turn to head back up the beach. As we walk, our hands brush occasionally, sending little sparks up my arm.