“Seashell,” Rune leans in, his eyes light with mischief as if he’s going to tell me an exciting secret, “I was born here. I lived here until I was seven. I’ve spent Christmas, and time here every summer until I was 19. I have no problem with the weather. We can always go on short trips to warm places.”

“Okay,” I agree, wanting to believe it can be this easy but still having doubts. Rune must see this on my face.

“You know what I’ve learned through an excellent therapist, a lot of reading, plenty of time on my own to think, and conversations with interesting storytellers from around the world?” he asks, setting his own empty plate down on the coffee table, and then sliding his arm across the back of the couch towards me, which makes my heart flutter happily.

“No, please tell me,” I say, setting my half-finished sandwich plate back on the coffee table.

“Mostly, it’s people who haven’t dealt with their inner demons who need to be constantly entertained with fancy, exciting, and impressive. Happy people make their own pleasures. Often, the simpler and more hands-on, the better.” The look he gives me with this last bit makes my whole body quiver with anticipated delight.

“Really?” I ask, so happy I wiggle my feet, “I’m not as boring as I thought?”

“You’re never boring, Shells,” he admonishes, tucking my hair behind my ears the way he loves to do, “You’re the most interesting woman I know. You dance to the beat of your own drum. I’m happy to go down those rabbit holes with you as long as we get to make stories together.”

“But with a better wardrobe?” I tease, leaning forward to be kissed, not sure how to contain my happiness.

“Yes. My wardrobe is part of my art just like Howl’s is,” he says before pressing his lips to my jaw, “Oh! Before we’re completely distracted,” he stops and picks up his phone, “one of your mutual fans outed us too.”

“Wait, what?” I exclaim as I watch him scroll.

“Here,” he hands me his phone, “Someone who follows you named Ruth must have Googled you, found our photos together on the ReWild website at the fundraiser, and realized Rune Borstad is Asher Dillion and who you drew as Howl.”

There it is. We’ve been caught. One of the images Rune’s included is our “peace” pose that Jack took, but the other two are casual shots people took with their phones. In each, it seems obvious we’re a couple. Rune’s comment about painting himself into my life and none of our dates being fake to him comes back to me. The text says, “Now we really know why Shelby chose Asher Dillion to draw as Howl, lucky girl!”

“How did you miss this, and I didn’t? She posted it last night,” Rune asks as I scroll through the series of images several times. What strikes me about them is not the embarrassment of getting discovered but what Vivienne said. We do look good together. Well, at least when I make an effort.

“I turned your Instagram notifications off on my phone after the photos Julia posted,” I admit, handing him back his phone, “I was too jealous. I only let myself check your Instagram once a day on my computer now.”

“Smart,” he says, smiling impishly as he puts the phone back on the coffee table. Apparently, he likes that I was jealous.

“Vivienne thinks we should have someone else to handle your social media now,” I tell him.

“We probably both should,” Rune says and takes my hand, looking serious again, “Shells, I’m also worried that Franklin and Pamela will somehow wreck your Horse Girls campaign.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“I guess they could,” I admit, deciding not to tell him I haven’t made as good of progress on it as I’d hoped yet and that Liz has been no help. I want to think about how we might beat Franklin and Pamela at their own game, “I think we should use being outed to tell a different story than the one Franklin’s going to paint of us.”

“What are you thinking, Miss Witch?” Rune asks, offering me a cookie. I take one, and then take a bite to buy some time.

“I understand that you got tired of Julia always posting about your private lives during your relationship. You like your privacy, and so do I, but Theo’s got a point. I think right now we should start telling the truth about the sort of relationship we’re in, whatever that is.”

“Fair enough,” he dusts cookie crumbs off his hands, “What are you ready for?”

I laugh and shake my head, “You’re answering my question with a question again, you brat.”

“I am,” he admits with a grin, “because I’m extremely nervous and afraid of rejection right now.”

“It’s not going to happen,” I tell him, “But I don’t want to assume anything either. I’m extremely nervous and afraid of rejection right now too.”

“Understood,” he leans on his hands towards me and kisses me on the cheek softly before whispering in my ear, “You weren’t only my summertime bestie, Shelby.”

I hold my breath as he rocks back a little to gaze into my eyes and runs his fingers gently over my lips, “You were my very best friend, period. And now, you’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

I can’t help it. I’m crying again, but happy tears this time, “You were mine too, ditto,” I admit, and we’re both laughing and crying.

**

After I feed the dog and let her out, we clean up a little, and Rune gets his bag out of the car and makes sure all of the doors are locked. This isn’t something I normally do here, but now that I know we’re being hunted by photographers I’m all for it.

I’m not sure how we manage to make it upstairs with the flashlight, candles, wine and glasses, and one of Rune’s duffel bags in the now completely dark house without dropping anything. We’re giggling like naughty school kids, nervous and excited. And then we’re pulling the covers aside and scrambling onto the bed. Rune is doing that thing where men’s clothes melt off their bodies with alacrity while I grapple inelegantly with my own. Fortunately, he comes to my rescue and helps the rest of mine disappear too.

In the comfort of the extra-large California king, we twine our long selves together again. I sigh with happiness to have the silk of his mostly naked body against me, his hands running over me as if I’m something precious he couldn’t wait to return to.

“You said you didn’t have intimacy coordinators until recently,” I say when we pause for a break to catch our breath and have some wine, “But what about kissing? It’s hard enough to learn how to kiss in real life. How do you learn to do it in front of a camera?”

“They teach you a few rules in acting class,” he tells me leaning back against the headboard, “And it may be different now, but back when I was starting to get those boyfriend roles, it was being thrown in the deep in to learn how to swim,” he admits, “the worst is that you often shoot out of order, and your first scene might be that kiss, or even more.”

“Oh, God. How horrible,” I groan, “What sort of kissing rules did you learn?”

“Making it sort of look like you’re French kissing, but you’re usually not,” he says in a matter-of-fact. I hate to admit that I love this behind the scenes Hollywood stuff.

“Seriously?” I won’t tell him I watched him play Gregg Allman again recently. That would be too weird. But Holy Guacamole, the love scenes were hot.

“You learn how to do these sort of open-mouth kisses that appear from the camera’s point of view like you’re using your tongue, but you’re not.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, staring at his gorgeous mouth, wondering how in the world he can be so shy but kiss strangers for a role.

“Like this,” he leans in and gives me a kiss on the corner of my mouth, and catches my lower lip between his briefly before pulling away slightly, “and this,” and he kisses my upper lip the same way, and then we set our wine glasses down and cheat using our tongues.

When we’re horizontal again, Rune rubs his smooth cheek against mine like a cat, “Didn’t we leave off somewhere around here?” his hand slips down between my legs, his fingers teasing over my now damp panties.

“Yes,” I gasped, “I believe we did.”

“I shaved my pretty face for you,” he says, his lips brushing along my jaw, “will you let me put my tongue where my fingers are?”

“Is it something you like to do?” I ask, feeling suddenly shy. Because, oh God, the idea that he shaved while contemplating putting his tongue there is making my whole nether region swoon. But it’s also something I’m self-conscious about, “what if you don’t like what I taste like or something…”

Rune's gaze is hooded and lazy but intent, “I’ve already had my hands here, Shells. I know exactly what you taste like,” he gives me a knowing Ashley Dillion bad-boy smile. I feel like I’m going to melt through the mattress. Nothing’ll be left of me but a puddle when he’s done.