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There had to be a catch.

And by that I meant with Tristan. No wealthy, eligible, successful, handsome man in his late thirties could possibly be this perfect. There had to be a skeleton in his closet somewhere. Tristan was kind, understanding and patient. He was everything a woman could ask for. I mean, I knew men like him existed because my sister was married to one of them, I just never expected to find one myself.

I was clutching at straws trying to convince myself there was something I wasn’t seeing, some giant flaw he was hiding. But really, I knew Tristan was exactly who he appeared to be. He was precisely the man I could’ve imagined him turning into from the boy I’d known.

As I sat in his office, all I’d wanted was to step into his personal space and draw his body near, but my brain was flashing warning signals, telling me I was bypassing all the rules I’d made for myself, rules that had kept me happy and safe for a really long time.

But like Tristan said, there was no rush and he’d be waiting when I finally figured out what I wanted. The trouble was I’d never been so conflicted.

I went through every scenario in my head. Everything that could possibly happen if I gave this thing between us a chance.

I went over the evening we had dinner at my place. Yes, I’d fallen into the trap of caring for him, cooking him food and putting him into bed for a nap. But then he’d woken up and insisted on dishing out the food, serving me while I sat and relaxed. It was a small thing, sure, but it showed he wasn’t the type to sit around and let me tend to him.

Then I considered the ramifications of him being my employer. If a relationship ended in heartbreak, it could put a strain on us working together, perhaps even lead to me having to find another job. I didn’t imagine Tristan would fire me. He was too kind-hearted for that. But I could see myself finding it too difficult to work with an ex and leaving of my own choice. I didn’t want to ever have to leave the Astor Cove. My heart was too invested in the place.

There was a lot to lose by taking a chance on Tristan, but there was also a lot to gain. He said he wanted to treat me like a queen, and I believed him. The idea of being with someone who would take care of me, who might listen to my problems instead of only ever wanting to vent their own, was incredibly tempting.

Tristan wouldn’t launch into a speech about the many terrible things his parents had put him through as a kid every time there was an argument, using his trauma as an excuse not to work on issues. I’d fallen for that one too many times, lavishing Zach with sympathy and forgetting all about whatever we’d been fighting over. That was until my therapist pointed out that he was deflecting accountability, shifting the focus onto past victimhood instead of accepting the blame for current behaviour.

If I asked for a night where we just cuddled and kissed instead of acting out some Dom/sub roleplay, he’d lose interest immediately. Then he’d feel guilty for not being able to give me what I needed and lash out, saying it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t be “normal” since his parents had messed his head up. This was one of the many reasons I’d completely lost interest in sex. With Zach, it was always such a heavy, emotionally complicated event where strict rules had to be adhered to. When we broke up, the decision to abstain came easy. It was freedom in its simplest form.

But Tristan was reawakening my desires. He’d stoked a fire in me, one only he could put out. With each day that passed, I felt the absence of a man in my bed. I couldn’t ever imagine Tristan refusing to kiss or cuddle me like Zach had, never mind doing anything even remotely hurtful. If we ever fought, I imagined him sitting down and talking it through, calmly figuring out a solution instead of demanding sympathy and avoiding blame.

I was about to leave my office for lunch the following day when I got a notification for the alarm system at the cottage. Someone had input the wrong code and set off the siren. Normally, Damien dealt with security issues, but he was out for lunch, so I headed over to check. It was probably just some local teenagers messing around.

I walked the short distance between the hotel and the cottage, but when I arrived, all seemed normal. No one was about, the front door was closed and the alarm was no longer sounding. Just to be certain, I used my key to enter and saw that the alarm had been disarmed. Unlike the last time I was here, it was now fully furnished, completely transformed from the bare space it had been only days ago. My heart gave a swift pang because it was the perfect mixture of cosy and sophisticated. An autumnal colour scheme mixed with rich fabrics and clean wooden surfaces. It was rustic yet classy, an ideal getaway from the stresses of everyday life.

Don’t get me wrong, I adored my apartment. It was mine and Rua’s little haven away from the world, but this cottage had a very special place in my heart. It would always mean a lot to me, and I was jealous of the guests who would get to stay here.

I smelled food just as I rounded the corner and found Tristan standing in the kitchen cooking something in a pan. His back was turned to me, and my skin flushed immediately at the sight of his broad, muscular shoulders and wet hair. I noticed the bag of swimming gear on the floor and realised he must’ve come here to shower after one of his sea swims.

He wore a white sleeveless vest, the kind men wore under their dress shirts. His grey suit pants were held up by a dark brown belt that hadn’t been buckled yet. But what held my attention most was the gold chain around his neck. I hadn’t noticed it on him before, but he was often in a shirt and tie, so I couldn’t fully see his neck. I’d never particularly noticed jewellery on men, but on Tristan, it was honestly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

“Um, did you—”

“Fuck!” he dropped the spatula and flew around. “Erin, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry for giving you a fright.”

A smirk tugged at his lips before he flattened it out, adopting a serious expression as he picked the spatula back up. “You didn’t give me a fright. Frights are for little girls and old ladies, not grown men.”

I grinned and laughed. “Of course.”

He shot me a half smile. “But yeah, you may have slightly startled me. Only slightly, mind.”

“Did you put the wrong code into the alarm? I got a notification over in my office. That’s why I came to check.”

“Yes, I put in the code for my apartment by accident,” he explained, pausing to eye me with a frown. “Why didn’t you have Damien come over?”

I shrugged. “He’s at lunch, and I was on my way out to grab some food, so I thought I’d kill two birds.”

Tristan flipped the omelette he was cooking then set the pan aside and turned off the heat. My gaze went to his belt, and he swore under his breath, gruffly buckling it up. I couldn’t stop staring at his hands, the faint hairs on his wrists, his knuckles. “You shouldn’t have come alone. If someone had really been trying to break in here, they could’ve hurt you.”

“It would’ve just been local kids messing around.”

“Still,” he said, stepping around the counter and coming to stand close to me. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, giving a soft squeeze as he took me in. A tingle lingered at the base of my spine. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

My belly tightened for a second before he dropped his hand and moved away again, clearing his throat. I didn’t know what to say, so I changed the subject. “Were you swimming?”