"You're demanding." He chuckles, leaning in and kissing my cheek.
"I guess I am." I smile though, as he climbs into his seat.
"So, I need directions. I may have slept with you last night but I have no idea where you live."
I guide the way, and soon enough, we are driving home through the small town where I grew up.
"Turn here," I say, pointing to Snug Street. We pass the intersection of the bookshop and toy store.
"Home Run Sports," he says, reading the signage as we pass the businesses on the road. "Is everything a pun here?"
"Half of it is," I say with a laugh.
"Homer Heritage Park," he reads, taking in the beautiful gazebo at the local park.
"Yeah, that was named after my great, great grandfather who founded the town."
"And Annabelle Rough Elementary School?" He looks at me. "Another relative?"
I nod. "Homer's wife."
"Wow," he says, "so you guys aren't just the Rough family; you literally settled this town."
"Does that overwhelm you?" I ask. "I told you my family's here. All my history is right in this town." She looks at me nervously like it might be too much, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't feel like an awful lot.
She's a hometown girl through and through.
"Right here," she says as we pass Gentle Grove. "That's my cottage. And it was my great, great grandparents' place—Annabelle and Homer’s—but it's my home now."
I park my car in the driveway, taking it in. The front of it is covered in stones. It's a nice, tidy two-story house with a chimney, a green lawn.
"This place looks like you," he says.
"I don't know what that means," I admit.
"It's charming and cozy and cute."
"Am I more than cute?" I ask him, willfully wanting him to tell me I'm drop-dead sexy. That I'm the only woman he wants, the woman he needs. Turns out I don't have to will anything into existence because when Anchor draws me to him, he kisses me hard with intention, with want, with a need that I match.
"Damn," he growls, his warm breath in my ear as our lips part. "Fuck, I want you."
"Then let's get out of the car," I tell him, my body on fire, hot with need. He grabs our bags from the trunk and I walk up the front steps, eager, ready, his. I unlock the front door and flick on a light.
"Home sweet home," he says.
"What do you think? I know it's not some fancy modern lake house like you just bought but..."
"No," he says, "it's perfect."
"I know my family's home was probably a little overwhelming," I tell him.
"It was," he says, his arms wrapping around me again after I lock the door. "I've never been around a family like that. A family like yours. You're all just so fucking wholesome."
I laugh. "I don't know about that. Rye is rough around the edges, and my brother Mac’s a bit of an asshole. Well, you met him earlier today, and Fig, well, she is a wild child at heart."
"And you?" he asks me.
I sigh. "I'm the good girl. I'm like my brother Bartlett in that he played it safe his whole life doing what was expected of him."