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Gabe closed his eyes for a second. “I love you too.”

She kissed him again.

Mara clung to him as the tension inside her built, and Gabe slowed enough to stay with her until her body tightened beneath him. Her breath broke against his shoulder, his name lost against his skin as she came.

Gabe held her through it.

When she finally relaxed in his arms, Mara lifted her head and touched his cheek.

Gabe kissed her and let the last of his control go, holding her tightly as his own release overtook him and left him breathless against her.

For a while afterward, neither of them moved. Gabe held Mara close as their breathing slowed, the orchard gradually returning around them in the rustle of leaves.

Eventually the cold persuaded them to dress. Gabe sat beneath the old tree with his jacket around Mara’s shoulders, and she tucked herself against his side.

“I spent half my vacation eating cinnamon bears,” she murmured. “And now I have a real one of my own.”

His bear rumbled, deeply pleased.

Gabe kissed the top of her head. “He likes that.”

“Good.” Mara curled her fingers through his. “I like him too.”

Gabe held her closer beneath the old apple tree.

His bear let out a long, contented sigh. Ours.

EPILOGUE

Mara

Mara stood in the middle of cabin seven and took it in one last time.

Ten days ago, Curtis had carried her suitcase through the door and set it beside the couch while she followed him inside, trying not to think about the fact that the vacation had been booked for two.

She remembered how carefully she had taken in the little kitchen, the stone fireplace and the bedroom at the back, assessing the cabin almost as though it were another venue she had been hired to inspect. Mostly, she remembered the quiet. She had been determined to come, determined not to lose the vacation simply because the relationship she had planned it around was over. But determination had not stopped that first evening from feeling lonely, or kept the empty half of the bed from reminding her that the ten days ahead no longer resembled the ten days she had imagined.

The cabin did not feel lonely now.

There had been coffee with Gabe at the little table, vineyard wine on the counter, muddy boots after the orchard and paper bags from Mountain View carrying cinnamon bears she had sometimes eaten before they had cooled. There had been phone calls and laughter and kisses at the door, and mornings when she had woken knowing she would see Gabe later and found herself smiling before she was properly awake.

Mara ran her fingertips over the back of the couch. She was going to miss this place.

Not enough to stay in it.

Behind her, the door opened and Gabe came back inside. He had already carried most of her things to his truck, but instead of reaching for the final suitcase beside the couch, he stopped when he saw her standing there.

“I was thinking about when I arrived,” Mara said. “Curtis put that suitcase in almost exactly the same place, and I stood here wondering how I was going to fill ten days on my own.”

Gabe crossed the room and slipped his arms around her. Mara rested her hands against his chest.

“You filled them pretty well.”

“I had some help.”

His arms tightened around her. “Are you okay about leaving?”

It was such a simple question, but Mara knew what he meant. Not leaving the cabin. Leaving the vacation that had marked the dividing line between her old life and whatever came next.