I spent three years chasing Grant Whitmore. Three days after he finally agreed to date me, he woke up in a hospital bed and asked who I was. I knew he was lying. So I smiled, introduced myself as his assistant, and handed in my resignation. My recovery plan was simple: return to the bar I half owned, wear something devastating, and stop organizing my life around a man who couldn’t admit he wanted me. Then Noah Ellis needed a place to stay. The younger dancer was sweet, handsome, and very good at making breakfast. Giving him the guest room seemed harmless. Until a dance lesson ended with his hands on my hips and a question I desperately wanted to answer. Now my ex wants another chance, my houseguest wants to kiss me, and I’m beginning to suspect the shy one has been pursuing me all along.