Every Breath: Every Life Series, #1

By Tasha Ivey

How does someone give their heart away when they don’t have all of the pieces?

Not that Makenna really wants a second chance at love anyway. She is stuck in her tragic past, secretly living every day for her deceased fiancé, while her new boyfriend, Drew, is gently nudging her into the present.

Desperate to appear normal again, she slaps on a happy face and goes through the motions of a normal, healthy relationship—but with the exception of even a single kiss. And she’s okay with pretending, but Drew needs more than she’s willing to give.

Surprisingly, it’s an innocent letter from a soldier halfway around the world that has her seeing life differently. Sawyer is at his breaking point, and his depression sucks him in deeper every day. Makenna becomes his only lifeline to home, and he’s hanging on by a very weak thread.

By helping him, Makenna learns to let go of grief before she’s left with only a ghost of the woman she once was, finally freeing her from guilt and showing her that it is possible to love again. But when she discovers that both of the men in her life are hiding something, she makes two shocking revelations.
One of them is insanely in love with her, and one of them destroyed her happy ever after.

Even though a fairytale ending does await her, is she willing to face her own demons to fight for it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tasha Ivey
• Release date: Aug 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781501435003

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Tasha Ivey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without direct written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Cover photography by Tim Carr

Cover design by Tasha Ivey

Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Murder has now been added to my to-do list for the day.

Okay, not really, but after my best friend oh-so-casually opened her big mouth about the harmless comment I made about a co-worker, I am seeing nothing but red. Blood red.

Oh, chill out, Makenna, Callie chides as I jerk her into the empty faculty lounge. Don’t get your cute little panties all in a bunch. He asked me if you were seeing someone, and he was convinced you wouldn’t go out with him. So, I had no choice but to tell him that you had mentioned you thought he was a nice guy.

I roll my eyes, trying to look as pissed as I possibly can while Callie’s puppy dog eyes stare up at me. But I can definitely feel my resolve weakening. It is impossible to be mad at Callie because she looks like an elf—a very confident, sexy elf. She is only 5’1" but she carries herself like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. "Cal, it wouldn’t be so bad if you had told him what I actually said about him. I only said that I thought he was nice and cute. You told him that I’ve had the hots for him for months."

Okay, so what? When he asked me about you, I told him you were crazy about him. What’s the big deal? At least, now, he’ll have the courage to ask you out finally. Geez, I do you a huge favor, and you freak out and go all diva on me. Callie’s perfect blonde bob sways while she defends her case.

Couldn’t you have just told him that I would probably go out with him? You practically told the guy I have a shrine dedicated to him. I pace across the gaudy puce shag carpet toward the coffeepot. Empty, of course.

There has been other staff here all day long for meetings in preparation of the new school year, but no one has taken the effort to make a new pot after they drained it. The culprit is most likely Mr. Davis, the high school science teacher. Just because he went to Harvard for two years, he walks around with this sense of entitlement. But little does he know, every person in the school district laughs at him behind his back. He always has something huge between his teeth or hanging from his nose, and there’s a daily bet between several of the people in the district on which it will be that day.

Callie joins me at the counter, tossing the old grounds into the trash so she can start a fresh pot. "You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Can’t you see the bigger picture here? The studly coach that every female in this county swoons over is going to ask you out."

I just groan and slump down at the nearest table, letting my suddenly burning cheek rest on the cool formica. Okay, so maybe I am blowing it out of proportion a tad. Maybe I have been secretly considering a date with Drew Pierce ever since I became a teacher at Fairhope Elementary School a year ago. Maybe I shouldn’t punch the gift horse in the mouth. Yet.

It’s not that I am ungrateful for what my friend did. Callie just doesn’t know how to filter her thoughts before they all come out of her mouth in a heap of verbal manure. If she thinks it, she vocalizes it, and it doesn’t exactly matter to whom she is saying it . . . or if it is the truth. I sometimes admire that quality about her, but this certainly isn’t one of those times.

The sudden appearance of a steaming black cup of coffee at my nose breaks my trance, and I sit up to reach for the packets of cream and sugar. Thanks for the peace offering, but you’re not forgiven yet. I know I talk a big game, but I don’t know if I am ready for this— Callie starts to protest, but I hold up my index finger. "Don’t even start. I already know what you’re going to say. My head knows it’s been long enough, but my heart isn’t as easy to convince."

Callie’s eyes warm, and she reaches out to squeeze my hand gently. Her silence speaks volumes. We don’t talk about that day, but we don’t have to. The vivid frames of memories have flashed through my mind nearly every day for a year and a half.

Absentmindedly rubbing the jagged scar across my thigh just under the edge of my skirt, I force a sad smile. If he asks, I’ll go out with him.

You sure, Mak?

Yeah, I think I am, I reply, attempting to appear resolute.

Callie walks around the table to press a smacking kiss to the top of my head and makes her way to the door, stopping just inside the frame before looking back at me. Shane would be proud of you, sweetie.

All I can do is nod in reply before Callie goes down the hall. The mere mention of the name I haven’t heard spoken in so long quickly sends my brain into a fog, and I let my head fall forward onto the table again.

Shane.

No, um, it’s Drew.

A deep voice reverberates around the concrete room, and I jerk up in surprise, not realizing I said his name aloud. The sudden motion causes a domino effect of chaos and an awe-inspiring display of physics.

A not-so-steady table + flailing arms + fresh coffee = lava java pouring down legs.

I’m sure Isaac Newton has that written down somewhere.

Damn! I immediately jump up, swiping at my stinging skin.

I usually make a better first impression than that, Drew says softly. He kneels on the now-sodden carpet with two hands crammed full of paper towels.

I’ll clean it up!

And I’ll let you, Drew chuckles at my embarrassed plea and presses the damp towels to the red blotches on my knee and calf when I sit back down. "These are for you, not the floor. A little coffee is not going to hurt this lovely little blast from the past."

With an audible sigh of relief as my burns cool, I forget for a moment that Drew Pierce is, in fact, the one cooling them. But only for a moment.

Damn! I gasp and slap both hands over my face.

Again, usually I make a better impression. You must really like that word. As if he senses my abrupt discomfort, Drew pulls another chair over, props my foot on it, and lets gravity hold the towels to my leg. He steps back gracefully and waits a moment for some sort of a response from me. I just don’t know what to say to him.

And when I don’t speak, he turns to leave.

Did you need something, Drew?

His broad shoulders shake with laughter. I was really hoping you wouldn’t let me walk all the way out because I don’t really think I would’ve left. That would’ve been a little awkward.

Sorry, I’m not very good at . . . this. I stand. Two blobs of wet paper slide off of my leg and slap onto the top of my foot.

"Not very good at what exactly? Drinking coffee? Talking to the opposite sex? Realizing when a man is trying desperately to look calm and collected while attempting to ask a beautiful woman out for dinner tonight?"

Well, isn’t he charming? I raise a brow at him and smirk. All of the above, apparently. And I think you just did.

Smooth, wasn’t it? Drew’s mouth pulls into an easy smile. A heart-stopping smile. But I know Callie told you I was going to. I heard her when she practically attacked you in the parking lot.

Hearing her name, Callie’s head pops around the door at Drew’s back, giving me a thumbs-up and putting a sneaky little finger to her full lips. Drew follows my gaze to the door just as Callie stealthily slips out of his view. Without a word, he walks over to the door, closes it softly, and turns to face me again. Behind him, a scowling Callie peers through the blinds just before he reaches behind him to close them, giving me a knowing wink.

Tenacious, isn’t she? Drew shakes his head, filling two mugs with coffee and sitting them on the table next to mine. He bends to retrieve the soggy masses from my foot and tosses them way across the room into the metal trashcan, sinking them both with the ease of a NBA all-star. He pulls out a chair and bows with flourish, sweeping his hand from me to the chair. For you, Miss Madison. This table doesn’t wobble.

Thanks, Mr. Pierce, I sigh, sinking into the chair.

Drew sits and slides the coffee toward me. Welcome. How about we start over now that we have fresh coffee, a steady table, and one less onlooker?

Yes, please.

Okay, good. He chuckles and looks up from his mug. Is this weird to you? I mean, I don’t want to come across as a stalker or anything, but I couldn’t help asking Callie about you.

"Honestly, it is a little strange to me, but not because of you. I just hope Cal’s tendency to embellish didn’t make me sound insane." I smile nervously and sip my coffee, quickly realizing I forgot to put sugar and creamer in it.

Noticing my bitter face, Drew snags it from me and adds two packets of sugar and half the package of creamer—just how I like it—and gives it a quick stir before placing it back in my hands. So, you have the hots for me, huh?

My eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of my head. Umm, I really . . .

Drew laughs softly. Relax, Makenna, I’m only kidding. Coffee better?

Thankful that he is changing the subject, I take a sip and nod. Much. How did you know how I like my coffee?

I, uh, I’m just observant, he stammers and blushes. So, uh, you said you weren’t good at this—whatever ‘this’ is—but I think you’re doing just fine.

More than anything, I meant that I’m not good at the whole opposite sex thing. I haven’t dated much lately.

He looks at me as if I’m suddenly sprouting an extra nose. You’re kidding, right? How long has it been since you went out on a date? A couple months, maybe?

"Almost a couple of years."

He looks at me again in utter disbelief, and I realize we’re heading into treacherous territory. Right out of the gate, the very first real conversation I have had with another guy is almost immediately turning to Shane. It’s not that some people around here don’t already know about what happened, but I can’t talk about that day yet. I don’t even talk about what happened with Callie or my parents. How will Drew take finding out that I am damaged goods? I am broken. Broken and shattered into so many pieces, I don’t know if there is anyone who could ever put my heart completely back together.

Shane. I force out in an almost gasp. I didn’t realize I had said his name out loud when you first came into the room.

Were you expecting him? Drew looks confused.

No.

An ex-boyfriend?

I nod a little too quickly and my gaze darts down to my fidgeting hands. You could put it that way.

Drew reaches both hands across the table to steady mine. Let’s talk about this another time, okay? Or not at all, unless you want to. But now that I have you talking, you think you could answer my question from earlier?

What question was that? I shake myself mentally from my sinking thoughts.

He narrows his gaze and suppresses a grin. The one where I was asking a beautiful woman to go out to dinner with me tonight. But you knew exactly what I was talking about, didn’t you?

A musical laugh escapes me, catching me by surprise. Smooth, wasn’t it?

He loses the fight with his grin and allows it to spread over his cheeks, crinkle his nose, and squint his eyes. Very. How about I pick you up around seven at your place?

I screw up my face and pretend to ponder for a moment. What is this I’m doing? Flirting? Really? Okay. Sounds great.

He stands and pulls a card from his wallet. ‘Great’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Here’s my number, in case you need it. I’ve got to run because the team should be getting to the high school any minute. We’re having our first official meeting of the season. I’ll call you around six or so to get directions to your house, okay?

Don’t you need my number, too? I stand to take the card, allowing my fingers to brush his.

He flashes his thousand-watt smile yet again. Callie texted it to me yesterday. He walks to the door and opens it to leave. I’ll call you later.

Hey, Drew?

His head cranes around in my direction. Yeah?

"I think your first impressions are pretty damn good."

Okay, Cal, what about this? I hold up my favorite khaki slacks and a light blue blouse with ruffles at the neckline.

Callie bounds off the bed and dives into my closet. "Seriously, sweetie, you’ve got to have some date clothes in here somewhere. You can’t go on a date dressed like a 2nd grade teacher."

"I am a 2nd grade teacher, and so are you." But I know I have contradicted myself in that sentence. Big time. Callie isn’t dressed like a teacher at all. Right before she came over to my house, she changed into this simple, yet sexy, summer dress—a turquoise halter that is fitted through the bodice and flares out from the hips, falling just below her knees.

Catching me looking at the dress, Callie starts stripping. You should wear this! Here, try it on. It should fit perfect, except you’ll fill out the boobs better. Well, and it’ll be shorter on you.

Without giving me a chance of rebuttal, Callie pulls it on over my head just as my cell phone begins to ring across the room. I manage to get my head and hands free just in time to yank my phone away from Callie to stop her from answering it, and I’m awarded with one of her infamous evil grins.

Hello? I answer, feigning innocence as if I have no idea who in the world could be calling me.

Hey, it’s Drew. He speaks softly, the deep resonance practically caressing my ear. I told you I’d call.

I press a hand firmly to my stomach to slow the swarm of butterflies. Oh, yeah, for directions.

Right. But honestly, I don’t need them. Callie gave me the address this afternoon.

Sitting right beside me, Callie can hear everything he says and just shrugs unapologetically. However, that doesn’t stop me from smacking her on the thigh. She didn’t mention that you asked her for it.

He snickers. I didn’t, but since I told you I’d call, I wanted to keep my word. See you in less than an hour, ‘kay?

After telling him goodbye, I toss my phone onto the bed and spin to face Callie, who is just gawking at me. What?

Speechless, probably for the first time in her life, Callie stands, grabs my shoulders, and turns me toward the mirror across the room.

Whoa.

I can’t remember the last time I looked in the mirror and felt even remotely attractive, but I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me right now. The dress is an absolute perfect fit, showing off curves that I forgot I even had. Callie was right; I do fill out the top more, but it is tasteful. The length of the skirting comes just above my knees, keeping my scar safely hidden. And even though my back feels completely bare, my long curtain of sleek auburn hair cascading down makes me feel a little more covered.

"Stunning, Mak. I really mean it. You’re keeping that dress, by the way. It looks way better on you. Oh, shoes! The ones you wore to my wedding would be perfect!"

Callie’s wedding. What a day that was.

I was truly happy for Callie and Wes that day, but the entire time I felt the burn of jealousy, pain, and selfishness bubbling just under the surface. Only six months before then, we had been planning a double wedding, but as fate would have it, there was only one. Of course, it didn’t help me to evade the big, fat elephant in the room to see an empty chair where the best man should have been standing. An empty chair that had a framed picture and name plaque suspended from the back. The black and white photo tucked inside was of Shane, who was Wes’s little brother and best friend. Once the wedding was over, I spent the first hour of the reception lying on the hard tile floor of a bathroom stall, trying—and failing miserably—to compose myself.

Dang it. I really have to stop thinking about this today.

I don’t know. I’m thinking those white strappy sandals would look good, too. Not only do I want to avoid the bitter memories every time I look at my feet, I also don’t want to be stuck in those sky-high heels all night.

You’re right, doll, Callie says, slipping into one of my tanks and a pair of running shorts. Maybe you haven’t totally lost your sense of style after all.

After half an hour flurry of last minute prep—courtesy of Callie’s need to make me look more ‘sex kitten’ than ‘cat lady’—the doorbell finally rings, and Callie begs to be able to answer the door like an overprotective parent. Sometimes I wonder if Callie actually thinks of herself as my mom. As a matter of fact, she hovers over me way more than my mom ever has. But to be fair, my mom does live three hours away, so she can usually only hover from a distance. Thank goodness.

Waiting for Callie’s signal so I can make my grand entrance, I pluck my favorite diamond earrings from my jewelry box and put them in my ears. My dad gave them to me last Christmas, telling me that they reminded him of me—simple and elegant, yet undeniably strong. My dad is such a charmer.

I am definitely going to need that reminder of strength to make it through tonight.

"Ma-ken-na! When Callie strings my name out into three long syllables, I always know I’m in some kind of trouble. And trouble flies into my bedroom looking like a demon on crack. What are you doing? I’ve been calling for you. He’s waiting!"

If you had let me open the door, I would’ve already been down there. You’re the one that convinced me that I should make an entrance, remember?

And you’re still going to! Count to ten and then come down. Callie storms back out, looking more nervous than I do.

Okay, here I go.

One . . . two . . .

Scratch that. I’m definitely more nervous.

Three . . . four . . . five . . .

Oh, crap. I’m really about to do this.

Six . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . .

Breathe.

Nine and a half . . .

Breathe, damn it!

Ten.

After I take one last glance into the mirror, I make my way into the hall and down the staircase, feeling very Scarlet O’Hara while Callie and Drew watch my descent. I completely avoid making eye contact with Drew, but I can feel his gaze sweeping over me, leaving nothing but heat in its wake. Which, of course, makes me have to concentrate even harder on not tumbling face first down the stairs.

Told you she was hot, Callie blurts out, breaking the deafening silence.

I never doubted you for a minute there, Drew finally manages to croak out after clearing his throat a couple of times.

As soon as he speaks, my eyes lock on his like a missile target. I haven’t ever noticed his eyes before, but they are a warm, inviting brown, almost like melted dark chocolate. His hair, though, is a rich shade of chestnut, the shaggy ends lightened from endless hours on the football field. The sun has also kissed his beautifully bronzed skin. A tan that I would have to pay an exorbitant amount of money for—not that I can do anything other than burn.

Seeing him in my home makes me realize what a beast of a man he is. He makes my living room seem like a coat closet. He must be a whole foot taller than I am and literally the width of a linebacker. Callie told me earlier that he was playing pro football about two years ago until a head injury landed him in the hospital in a coma for a month. Doctors told him that if he ever got hit in the head like that again, he may not walk away from it, so he stopped playing. He just came back home and, luckily for every female in a twenty mile radius, took the head football coach job at the high school. It’s incredible how much game ticket sales have gone up since he’s been here.

Once I near the bottom, Drew steps forward and gently grasps my elbow, assisting me down the last steps. You look amazing.

Thanks. You do, too. And, boy, does he. I’ve never seen the man in anything other than oversized t-shirts and athletic shorts, even in the middle of winter. But tonight, his faded, loose-fit jeans and tight black polo shirt are more than drool-worthy.

So, Callie says, stepping between us, where are you taking my best friend and when should I expect her to call and let me know she made it home?

I look over at her incredulously. Yes, she definitely hovers more than my mom.

Drew lets out a deep belly laugh and turns to me instead of answering her directly. Well, actually, Makenna, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming to my house. I already have dinner in the oven and everything set up so we can eat out on the deck. I have a great view of the bay.

Callie grins wide and waggles her eyebrows at me. She thinks that will be perfect, don’t you, Mak?

I narrow my eyes at her before looking up at Drew. That’ll be okay, I guess.

You sure? he asks, a hint of uncertainty showing in his eyes and his body becomes tense. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know you don’t know me very well.

Honestly, Drew, it sounds nice. I’m not a fan of crowds.

Okay, then. He relaxes and quietly exhales. I’m ready whenever you are. And Callie, I’ll have Cinderella home before midnight, okay?

She nods at him but speaks to me. You better call me as soon as you walk in the door.

Yes, Mom. I bite down on an emerging smile. Drew holds out his elbow, and I hesitantly slip my hand in the crook. I promise.

Callie grabs her purse, and with a Cheshire cat grin, she practically skips out the door. As soon as the screen door slaps shut, I look up at Drew, who has his eyes fixed on the pictures lined up along my fireplace mantle. Three of the largest pictures are of Shane and me.

Is this your family? Drew steps away from me, causing my hand to fall away from his elbow.

Most of them, yes. Are you ready to go?

Somehow satisfied with my vague answer, he beams at me and returns with his elbow extended again. Absolutely.

As we step out the door, I notice the truck in the driveway is exactly what I would expect him to drive. Glossy black, four doors, dripping with chrome, and jacked up enough to make me wonder how I’ll get in without a ladder. Definitely a man’s truck.

Drew notices my apprehension when he opens the passenger door and points to the step just underneath the door. Step right there, and I’ll help you up.

He places his large hands at either side of my waist, and I can feel the warmth of them through the thin fabric of my dress. Trying really hard to ignore how nice that feels, I perch my foot up on the step just before he begins to effortlessly lift me, allowing me to sink into the buttery soft leather seat before he closes the door.

Oh my. It even smells like a man in here—a delicious combination of leather, cologne, and testosterone. Well, if testosterone had a scent, this would be it.

Within seconds, Drew jumps in and the truck roars to life with the signature purr of a diesel engine. He looks over at me with a smirk and suddenly leans over in my direction, reaching for me. I’m convinced this guy is about to jump me right here in my driveway, and I run through a list of appropriate reactions in my head, disappointed that this date is going to end before it ever even started.

That is, until he pulls my seatbelt across me. Safety is always first, Miss Madison, he says softly as the buckle clicks into place. His eyes meet mine before he backs away, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever-so-slightly.

Whoa, this guy has some game. I don’t know whether to be impressed or nervous. Oh, who am I kidding? Definitely nervous.

Once he pulls out of my driveway, it hits me. I’m on a date. I’m going to another man’s home. On a date. I’m alone in a truck with a man.

On . . . a . . . freaking . . .date. Did I mention that?

I thought I was ready for this, and I know I should be, but why am I so nervous all of a sudden? Yes, I know it’s been a while, but I don’t remember feeling quite like this before. Not even when Shane and I first started dating.

Everything came easy when I was with Shane. We met on my very first day of college. I had chosen ballroom dancing for my physical activity since dancing had always come easy to me, especially after the years of ballet and jazz classes my mom forced me to endure. I remember walking into that cavernous room full of total strangers and spotting him immediately. Unfortunately, he already had a partner, and an even more unfortunate fact was that there were only 4 guys in the class with 16 girls. So, naturally, I got stuck with a girl.

But, when I walked into class on the third day, he walked up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me out to the floor.

My partner will be here in just a minute, I told him.

He just flashed a relaxed smile. Actually, she won’t. She’s dating my roommate, and she told him that she was switching to bowling.

Oh, I said. But what about your partner?

He shuffled his feet and looked up at me through his long lashes. Okay, we have two options here. I can either give you the truth, which is incredibly genius, if you ask me. Or I can make up some crazy story about how she fell down a flight of stairs or slipped in a mud puddle. It’s your choice.

In that case, I’ll take the truth.

Well, after I found out your partner was leaving, I told mine that I needed her help with something, and if she assisted me with this plan I had, she would be doing a great service to poor, hopeless men like me everywhere. She agreed, and now she’s my hero.

I’m not following. I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. I mean, he was seriously hot, but I was certainly questioning his sanity at that moment.

"It’s simple, really. You see, I told her that there is this insanely gorgeous girl that I’d beg, borrow, and steal for, just to dance with her one time. So after I begged her to drop the class and promised to let her borrow my car later, I now have the chance to steal that dance."

And for the rest of the semester, he was my dance partner . . . and my boyfriend. There wasn’t ever one awkward moment where I was nervous or didn’t know how to act around him. He had this good-natured personality that made him so easy to talk to. That is, if we could stop laughing long enough to talk . . . or stop kissing.

Drew tapping softly on my shoulder pulls me from my memories. We’re here.

I am completely and irrevocably in love . . . with Drew’s house. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of having a home like this one day. Enormous windows cover nearly every space on the façade, allowing me to literally see right through to the bay on the other side. Iron railings stretch across both the front porch and balcony, which wrap completely around the house. It’s elegant, but simple. It’s stunning.

How is it even possible that this is your house? I have to ask. I mean, this place is not befitting of a football coach. I almost expected a dirty, dumpy little shack.

Drew fumbles with his keys until he finds the right one. Oh, I can’t take all of the credit. My grandfather built most of the homes in this area, and this one was my grandmother’s thirtieth wedding anniversary present. I was the only grandchild, so when they decided it was too much for them to keep up, I bought it from them. But, honestly, I think I always knew I’d end up here.

He opens the front door and ushers me inside, stopping to kick off his shoes. This is my second favorite room.

Only your second favorite? I laugh as I follow him around the room. The floor plan is open, revealing the living room, kitchen, and dining area all in one massive space. Between the living room and kitchen is a gorgeous rock fireplace that towers all the way up to the honey-colored wood beams stretching across the ceiling.

We may need to wait a while before you see my absolute favorite.

Oh?

Yeah, uh, I don’t typically take women into my bedroom except for . . . A silly grin spreads across his mouth.

Oh.

What do I even say to that? I have no response other than to stare at him with my mouth hanging partially open, begging for something remotely clever to say.

Out of nowhere, Drew’s laughter booms through the room. "The look you just had on your face reminded me of a poor, little mouse