And judging from her trembles and moans, from the flush in her cheeks, the part of her lips, she is way more than good.

So am I, in fact.

I’m great as her body quakes, tightening around me, then she cries out.

And that’s my cue to follow her there.

We lay sated and spent, but not for long. There is kissing, and cuddling, and showering.

And then there is even more kissing.


I give her what she wants, and she gives in to the sensations, wrapping her legs around me, moaning, groaning, and calling my name as I bring her there again with my mouth.

That’s what we do all weekend.

And we make plans to do it again the next one.

I’m not going to let a little thing like distance stand in the way any longer. Life is complicated; love is even more so.

But there is nearly always a solution.

This is ours—we’re making it work.



A few months later

My phone flashes with a text. The words “hot tip” scream at me.

Jeanne: Word on the street is there’s a seized red Ferrari coming up for auction this weekend. Maybe if you’re nice to Joe, he’ll hold it for you.

Cameron: Maybe if you’re nice to Joe, he’ll hold it for me.

Jeanne: I’m always good to Joe.

I roll my eyes and show the phone to Kristen, who’s curled up with me on her couch on a lazy Sunday morning.

“Once a dirty bird, always a dirty bird,” she says, then tugs me in for another kiss.

I’m all too happy to oblige. But there are things to discuss, so I pull back, running my finger down her nose.

“So . . . should I get the car?”

She lifts a brow. “What would you do with a car in Manhattan?”

It’s an excellent question.

I tap my chin as if deep in thought. “True. When you come see me in New York, we spend most of our time in bed anyway.”

She swats me. “Not true. We went to museums, and we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, and we went to the planetarium, and we took pictures in front of Lincoln Center’s fountain. But we were never in a car, Cameron.”

I run my fingers through her hair. “We were never in a car in Manhattan . . .” I trail off, waiting for her to get my meaning.

“Right. And . . .?”

“But we do have to use a car . . . here.”

She sits up straighter. “What are you saying? That you want a Ferrari to drive around in when you come visit me every other weekend?”

I shrug, grinning.

“Fine. But that seems like quite an indulgence.”

I crack up. “I like indulgences. You’re an indulgence.” I press a kiss to her forehead then cup her cheek, meeting her gaze. “But what if it wasn’t an indulgence? What if, say, I needed a car to get around town more regularly?”

Her face freezes. She goes stock-still, then she speaks in a whisper. “What are you saying?”

I can’t resist toying with her logical head. “Work the problem, Kristen. What’s the solution to the long-distance problem of you and me that would merit a car?”

She licks her lips. “Are you saying . . .?”

I shake my head. “I’m not saying. I’m asking. Or rather, I’d like you to ask me.”

I smile, waiting.

She takes a deep breath, trembling. “Do you want to move in with me?”

“Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

“But what about your job?”

“I’ll run it from here. I’ll make it work. I’ll go back to New York from time to time. But I can’t take being away from you a minute longer.”

“Have I ever told you I love you more than the Milky Way?”

Her smile is wider than the galaxy.

* * *


I’m cheering Cameron on at the auction. So is Grams. She’s by Joe’s side, since she’s been helping him run it from time to time over the last few months.

“They’re a perfect couple,” I say to my mom, who wanted to come along today.

My mom hums, nodding like she has a secret up her sleeve. “They truly are. It’s like they were meant to be together.”

“What’s that smile all about?”

She tilts her head and grins wider. “Just that I had a feeling all along about them.”

“Right, that’s what you said.”

She clasps her hand to her chest. “Oh, allow me to clarify. It was more than a feeling.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I might have a little cupid in me too.” She blows on her red fingernails.

“Is that so?”

She shimmies her shoulders. “I met him at the hairdresser’s and had a hunch he was right for her. So I started sending her to the auctions.”

I squeeze her arm. “You little matchmaker, you.”

She winks. “And you know what that means, my little genius?”

“No, what does it mean?”

“Put two and two together.”

“Four?” I ask playfully.

She shakes her head. “It means I’m essentially responsible for you and Cameron getting together too. If I hadn’t sent Grams here, she’d never have met him. And now look at the two of you.”

Tags: Lauren Blakely Romance