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time to think that you want, sweetheart.” He stood and rubbed the back of his neck, still coming to terms with everything that had happened since he’d arrived at her house. Never in a million years did he anticipate making love to Keirsten tonight—or how intense his feelings about it would be. But he couldn’t. “I care about you enough to wait for you—but I can’t wait for you with you.”
    He turned on his heel and walked out of her room…and out of her life.

Chapter Four
    Three months, two weeks, one day, and nineteen hours.
    That’s how long it had been since Garrett walked away from Kiersten. She barely even spoke to him anymore, other than a soft hello as they passed on the court after practices. It was probably better that way. Anything more than a brief encounter hurt too much. He’d spent most of his life pretending not to care about her. Pretending he was fine without her. But now that he’d had one night in her arms, he knew he wasn’t.
    And he wanted her more than he could ever possibly describe.
    Oh well. Tough shit. He wasn’t going to get her on his terms. And he wouldn’t accept hers.
    Fuck. He needed a drink. Or three.
    He unlocked the door to his apartment and froze. Pots clanged in the kitchen. Dropping his gym bag to the carpet, he walked around the corner. Only Mike had a copy of his key, and that was just in case of an emergency or if he somehow lost his own set. But why would Mike let himself in and then cook? To the best of his knowledge, Mike didn’t even know how to cook.
    “Mike?” he called out.
    “Uh, no,” Kiersten replied. “It’s me.”
    He tensed and walked slowly into his kitchen, his heart beating rapidly in his ears. “How did you get in here?”
    She flushed. “I asked Mike for the key. Told him I needed something for Chris to practice at home.” She waved a hand. “He didn’t question me, thank God. My story was weak.”
    He studied her. “Why are you here? You could have just knocked.”
    “I was worried you wouldn’t let me in,” she said softly, averting her eyes. “So I took matters into my own hands.”
    “And the dinner?”
    “A way to try to make up for what I did. It’s pathetic and not big enough, I know, but I had to do something .”
    He raised his brows. “You could give me space, like I asked. Why cook for me? What do you want?”
    She looked at him. “I thought you might like to eat some food. Last time I checked, you were human.”
    “It’s been over three months since we talked or hung out.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not sure what her sudden reemergence in his life meant. What game was she playing? “And last time I checked, we weren’t really on speaking terms. Yet here you are. Cooking me dinner.”
    “Yep.” She set down the spoon she was using to stir the sauce, shoulders tight as she leaned on the counter. “Pretty much.”
    He looked away from her and swallowed hard. Did she realize how much it hurt him just to see her face or to hear her voice? Probably not, since he’d been the only idiot who had wanted more. Every woman paled in comparison to her. No matter how hard he tried to move on, to be attracted to another woman, there was only one person on his mind. Kiersten. But if she was here…
    He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Have you changed your mind about us?”
    She paled and he cursed himself for jumping to foolish, optimistic conclusions. “I—no, not yet. But—”
    “Then you need to leave,” he said. He raised his head and met her eyes, unwilling to back down. “I haven’t changed my mind, either. I need space.”
    “It’s been three months . Isn’t that enough space?”
    “No.” He drew in a ragged breath. “It’s not. Now please leave.”
    She bit her lip. “No.”
    “Yes.” He strode toward her, picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the door. He tried not to remember that the last time he’d carried her like this, they’d been going up to her