He draws a few breaths before walking forward, grabbing me by the hips, and yanking me to his body. “It matters. Don’t think for one minute that I haven’t been breaking apart since you left. I’ve thought about you every second of every day.” He grips me tighter. “You’re my home. I’m not going anywhere until you’re back where you belong. I don’t give a shit if there’s another man, because I’ll win you back. I’ll show you that I’m serious. I’ll make you love me again.”

Wyatt’s lips are against mine in an instant. He kisses me hard, commanding, and completely by surprise. I don’t have time to react before he pulls back. There are no words in my head. I’m a statue in front of him.

Then, he gives me a much sweeter peck before walking out the door.

Well, that didn’t go how I thought.

“Good morning, baby.” Wyatt leans against the wall outside my door.

I almost drop my purse as he scares the shit out of me. “What are you doing here?” I hoist my bag over my shoulder.

“Bringing you coffee.” He extends the cup of Starbucks. I don’t have to taste it to know it’s the drink I love. I wonder if it’ll be all that I remember now that he’s touched it. As soon as that thought tumbles through my mind, I want to slap myself. I will not go there. “You look beautiful.”

My hand extends as he hands me the cup of goodness. His fingers brush against mine, and I have to restrain myself from shivering.

Damn him.

Wyatt stands there in his signature jeans and Henley with the sleeves rolled. There’s something insanely sexy about forearms, especially his. The things that stand out the most are his ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy hat. In Tennessee I get it, here . . . no.

“You should go home.”

“I already told you.” He grips my elbow and kisses my cheek. “My home is where you are.”

“Wyatt, just go back. I know you’re sorry. I’m sure you regret whatever, but it’s over. You can’t come here after almost three weeks and think I’m going to run back to Bell Buckle with you.” I cross my arms and stand my ground. If he did it once, there’s nothing to say he won’t do it again. I’m not going to be an idiot—again.

“I live here.”

“Whatever.”

I start down the hall. I have to get to the bakery. There’s still a ton of stuff I’ve missed and need to get caught up on. There’s also a press opportunity with the Eagles that I want to explore. If I can get my feet wet again, I know I’ll be able to have some breathing room.

He walks behind me, but I ignore him. He gets on the elevator, and I still ignore him. Then he walks down the street, and I find it insanely difficult to keep ignoring him, but I manage. However, when he gets in my cab—I lose it.

“Stop! What are you doing?” I yell.

“I’m spending the day with you.”

He is crazy. “Did Presley put you up to this? Is this some sort of hazing that you do in the South when you dump someone?”

Wyatt laughs and throws his arm around the back of my seat. “Baby, I’m here for you. I plan to show you how much you mean to me.”

I groan. “You’ll be gone in a week. This city will eat you alive.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but it’ll be pretty hard since I signed a lease two days ago for the apartment next to yours.”

My eyes widen, and my heart races. “You did what?” I screech.

“I sublet, or whatever they call it here, the apartment next to yours. I’m livin’ here now. Know anyone who could use a rancher? I’ll probably need to get a job at some point.”

“Wyatt!” I gasp. “You can’t move here! Do you see any freaking horses or cows? No! What the hell are you going to do?”

This is crazy—completely, certifiably insane. I can’t believe he moved here. Once again, he’s shocked me.

“I’ll be fine for a year or so, but after that, I’ll need a job. I’ve been told I make a pretty mean cappuccino.” He smirks. “If not, I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I will warn you that I plan to see a lot of you.”

“You—” I stop. “I can’t . . . you . . .” My hands cover my face. “Why would you move here?”

He leans back and tosses his leg over his knee. “To win you back.”

I sigh and shake my head. “You can’t win me back.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.” I deadpan.

Wyatt leans close and brushes his finger down my cheek. “But I will.”

EVERY MORNING STARTS THE SAME. Wyatt is outside my door with coffee and sometimes breakfast. He follows me to work, searches the newspaper for jobs, and then accompanies me back home. It’s absolutely maddening and utterly adorable. I was only able to ward him off for the first two days he followed me. The other two I’ve failed miserably.

But each day he’s back again.

I’m in the bakery, looking out the porthole door as he sits there. He signed a freaking lease. He moved all his shit here. I didn’t really believe him until he showed me his apartment. There it all was, our couch, his bed, the dressers, and everything we shared in Tennessee. He wasn’t joking.

What am I going to do about him?

It’s really hard when I still love him. That’s never changed. I just couldn’t stay there and be his punching bag. I don’t doubt that, in his twisted mind, he convinced himself that pushing me away was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t.

He didn’t understand what he was doing only caused me more anguish. It wasn’t what I wanted, and I think I was pretty damn clear when I told him otherwise.

“I made a new cupcake flavor,” Meghan, our baker, tells me.

“Great.” I keep my gaze on him. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“I could use another opinion. Do you think our new squatter will try?”

I twist to see if I heard her correctly and find her looking at Wyatt through the window. “No, he’s not really here.”

“Well, I see him, and the employees can’t help but to notice him.” Meghan looks to me and sighs. “He’s really hot, Ang.”

“And an idiot.”

“Most men are,” she retorts. “Well, I’m going to find out what he thinks. I’m sure he’s lonely sitting out there all day by himself.”

He’s not lonely. He has a constant flow of females attending to him, but he smiles politely and then looks for me. It’s frustrating the heck out of me. Once again, I’m falling victim to his charms.

Who can blame me? Coffee each morning, food, his attention, and the man moved everything he owned to a freaking apartment in Philadelphia that I know is not cheap.

“Is it a baker thing?” I wonder aloud. “Do you all meddle for a living?”

She laughs as she walks out the door.

Meghan heads over to Wyatt and sits beside him. She giggles, and he smiles as she hands him the cupcake. Of course she’s unable to resist him.

He’s not even close to the man I walked away from. The man sitting at that table is the Wyatt I fell in love with.