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amazing skill and tenderness. And there was passion—hot, deep, panting, groaning passion. Grace wanted to fall in love with him, something she attributed to her lack of experience. But she thought about what he’d said to her. “You aren’t with anyone, I’m not with anyone and it seems like we might as well enjoy the moment. Right?”
    So. He was just lonely and had finally accepted that Iris had moved on. She didn’t care. She loved his mouth, his arms, his hands. She would try very hard not to fall in love with him.
    Grace snuggled down into her blanket on the couch and thought it didn’t matter at all. She never imagined she’d have this with anyone and certainly not the very guy she lusted after. They had kissed for an hour. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her, didn’t treat her like someone he was using to pass the time and it was
delicious
!
She decided to close her eyes and dream about him, dream about them taking it to the next level. She was twenty-eight; she so wanted to know what that was like.
    Instead she dreamed of Mikhail, the little Russian in his sixties with a cane he pounded for emphasis, shouting in half Russian and half English. It was so unfair, she thought, slowly rousing to the sound of knocking that was not Mikhail’s cane.
    She was suddenly afraid and her heart started racing. Who could be pounding after one in the morning? Then she saw that it was starting to grow light and at just that moment she heard Troy’s voice. “Gracie? Gracie? It’s me,” he called softly.
    She opened the door for him. He was holding a bag. “What in the world are you doing here at the crack of dawn?”
    He looked at his watch. “It’s nine, Grace.”
    “Nine? It looks like the sun isn’t even awake!”
    “It’s a gloomy day. I brought breakfast and then I’m going to take you storm watching.”
    “Why?” she said, frowning.
    “Because the swells are huge and I think you need me to show you how to have fun.”
    “I beg your pardon, I know how to have fun.”
    “Working all the time, then working out for diversion. Nah, you definitely need a coach. We’ll start small—just a little sightseeing. There are big swells, the waves will be awesome.”
    “But it’s cold.”
    He put his bag on the little table. “And it’s kind of wet. You should dress warm, but first, breakfast.” He pulled some fast-food breakfast burritos and potato pancakes out of the bag. Lots of them. On the bottom were two large coffees.
    “Hungry, Troy?”
    “Starving.” He sat down and peeled the wrapper off one of the breakfast burritos. “Come on, Grace. Let’s do it. This is going to get you all excited. Promise.”
    “I was going to catch up on some paperwork since the shop is closed today. Accounting and stuff.”
    He shook his head. “See what I mean? This is exactly why I came over. I don’t know you that well but I already know you’re working too much. I have two jobs and still manage to take some days off.” He took a big bite. “It’s New Year’s Day. It’s a
holiday
.”
    She sat opposite him and reached for one of the burritos. He was right. Not only was he right, she’d told him last night she needed to find more balance. “Do you have an aversion to making plans?”
    “No,” he said. “I’m usually much more polite—call ahead, make plans, all that stuff that girls like. I’ll work on that. For now, I think we should have some fun. Especially today.”
    “There are lots of football games on TV.”
    “I’m recording them,” he said. “I might not watch them all and I’m not going to sit around inside all day when there are things to do. You’ll be glad you let me drag you out,” he said.
    “We’ll see,” she said, but she already was.

Three
    “T he outstanding question is why have you appointed yourself my fun coach?” Grace asked once they were in Troy’s Jeep and driving.
    “It’s not complicated at all,” he said. “I need someone to play with. I work a lot. I