Seven years earlier...
“Mom?!” I flew through the front door, toeing off my shoes and tossing my backpack onto the bench by the entrance. “I just got a new idea! How about, to fluff up those mini tarts, we use melted marshmallow instead—”
I stopped short as I stepped into the kitchen. It wasn’t my mom standing by the stove, holding a napkin underneath one of my small cherry pies. No. It was some guy. Someone I hadn’t seen before—because if I had, I definitely would have remembered him.
He was tall—very tall—but not in the bulky, gym-rat way like my brother. He was leaner, with just enough muscle to fill out his frame, but not enough to suggest he spent hours lifting weights. His skin had an olive complexion, a deep warmth to it that made him look downright sinful, and then there was th
