I drove past his hundred- and fifty-year-old farmhouse three times. This time was different. I could attribute the first encounter to happenstance. I could blame it on a weak, very horny moment in time. A moment that led to our book store play and secrets to keep. The moment I turned into his driveway, though, it was a conscious choice to do whatever it was we were about to do. This would be a game changer. I was seeking...