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that time forgot. The yard was overgrown with plants and bushes, half of them dead. Looming over the mess was a specter of a Victorian mansion. The covered porch sagged, the house seemed to have lost every single windowpane, and paint peeled off the boards. Torn curtains fluttered out of an upstairs window. The yard was full of destroyed crap that might have possibly come from inside the house. If I peered hard enough, I could see part of a couch in the tall grasses.
    “We’re here,” Ramsey said.
    I slid out of the truck after Connor, staring up at the house. Maybe it wasn’t so bad on the inside. Maybe he’d bought a fixer-upper and was renovating.
    Or maybe this was just as bad as it looked.
    Connor scratched his jaw and looked over at me. “Um. You guys stay here much?”
    “I’ve never been,” I admitted. When Connor raised an eyebrow, I flushed. “We usually spend our time over at the Russell house or at my place.”
    “Maybe we should go back to your place,” he said with a friendly grin.
    Ramsey scowled at Connor and pushed past him.
    “Can’t,” I said absently. “My sister and Beau are living there while he’s in town. They need their privacy.” And I didn’t want to be tortured with another night of hearing their lovemaking through the walls. If my sister had known, she’d have been totally mortified. And we couldn’t stay at the Russell place, because then Connor would hear the distinct lack of lovemaking coming from Ramsey’s quarters. Though how that was going to be solved in this ramshackle mansion, I didn’t know—
    Oh, jeez. My face flushed bright red as I realized I was going to have to sleep in the same bed as Ramsey. I grabbed my overnight bag out of the passenger seat and tried not to think about that.
    The sun was setting behind the house, haloing it with light and shadow. Shouldering my bag, I moved forward to the porch and gestured for Connor to follow. The yard was overgrown with two-foot-tall grasses, and I avoided a few holes that looked snake friendly. You never knew out in the country. The steps leading up to the porch were warped with time and weather, and just as gray as the siding on the house. I placed my foot on one, testing the weight. To my relief, it creaked but held. I moved slowly up the stairs, staring around me. The front door had a busted screen. Both windows next to it were shattered, and there were some broken chimes rustingon the overhanging porch, which itself was sagging to the right.
    “Wow, Barbie’s dream house,” Connor said sarcastically.
    I gave him a quelling look.
    Ramsey’s large form moved to stand next to me on the porch, and the floorboards groaned. He held out his hand. “There a problem?”
    “No,” I said, slipping my hand into his. “No problem.”
    “Small problem,” Connor said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at his surroundings. “I’m not sure if I’m willing to risk being buried in the backyard and showing up on an episode of Dateline .”
    Ramsey glared.
    “Well?” Connor said. “At this point you’re supposed to reassure us that you’re not a serial killer. That you’re going to flip this eyesore for a profit, right?”
    Ramsey continued to glare. His hand holding mine grew a little tighter.
    “Connor, please,” I said. “I’m sure this is just Ramsey’s ancestral home. Isn’t it?”
    “No,” said Ramsey.
    Oh. Oh, dear. “Well, I think it’s a charming fixer-upper, Huggy Bear.” I patted his arm. “Which room is Connor’s?”
    “None of them,” said Ramsey, and he inclined his head to the backyard. “Guesthouse.”
    Connor laughed. “There’s a guesthouse? Now this I gotta see.” He trotted back down the porchsteps and disappeared around the side of the house.
    As soon as Connor was gone, Ramsey leaned forward, his hands propped up on the porch railing, caging me between his arms. The move pinned me between him and the steps. I could let him lean all over me, close enough to breathe,