I wipe my brow as I step out of the car. Even in the shade, it's hot.

Iris presses her door closed. She slings her backpack over her shoulders and lets out a soft sigh. Her lips press together. Her eyes meet mine. "You're still wearing the shirt."

"I am."

"We have a deal."

I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it in the car. This is also going to get on Dean's nerves, but he can kiss my ass. I put up with a truckload of his attitude and he can't tolerate me inviting someone on a hike?

Iris moves around the front of the car.

She slides her backpack off one shoulder and pulls out a tube of sunscreen. She's slow about popping the cap and squeezing it onto her fingers.

She was quiet the entire drive. She turned the radio on to the local rock station and stared out the window. Because of Dean's bullshit or because of something else?

"You okay?" I turn so she can get my back.

"Yeah. A little tired."

"Not enough coffee?"

"Never enough coffee." Her fingers glide over my right shoulder. She takes her time smoothing out the lotion and rubbing it in.

It's more sweet than sexual.

More domestic than carnal.

I shouldn't like it.

But I do.

She squeezes sunscreen on my other shoulder. Takes her time rubbing it in. "He's your friend. I'm sure you know him better. But I read people pretty well."

"Iris the shrink?"

"Yeah. And he doesn't want me here."

She's right. He doesn't. But I don't know why. "We invite people to join all the time. He's probably in a mood."

"Okay." She drags her fingers down my back. "You feel good against my hands."

I let my voice drop an octave. "Yeah?"

"That too. Later." She presses her palm against my lower back. "Turn around. I'll get your chest."

I do. "I'll return the favor."

Her lips press into a smile. "I'm already covered."

"Cruel."

She laughs as she spreads sunscreen over my pecs. "I do what I can." Her eyes stay on her work. She's thorough. Methodical. She finishes one area and checks it over before moving on to the next.

Her brow furrows. Her lips turn down.

She's still upset.

It can't all be Dean.

But what the hell is it?

She looks up at me. "Done."

"I'll have to make it up to you somehow."

Her blush is slight. "You will." She moves closer.

I slide my arm around her waist. Press my palm into her lower back. "Come here."

She rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.

My other hand goes to her hair. I hold her head against mine as I slide my tongue into her mouth.

Her fingers curl into my skin.

She jumps backward as a honking horn cuts through the air.

That's Brendon's car parked on the other side of the street. He's standing in front of the driver's seat shaking his head. Dean's leaning over the center console, his hand on the steering wheel, his eyes on me and Iris.

Fucking asshole.

Usually, I don't mind Dean's antics. They're pretty entertaining. But right now, I don't have energy for this shit. I'm spending all of it keeping Sabrina out of my thoughts.

Iris pulls her arms over her chest. Taps the sunscreen against her hip.

Brendon shoots me a what's wrong with him look.

I shrug. Hell if I know.

Dean steps out of the car. "Didn't realize we were heading to the gun show." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on the passenger seat.

"Your sweat isn't stinking up my car," Brendon says.

"There's no sweat. I just put it on." He motions to the garment. "Smell it."

"No thanks." Brendon moves around the car to push the passenger door closed. He clicks the electronic lock. "You two ready?"

"Yeah." I slide my arm around Iris's waist. Fuck, I'm being an obnoxious caveman about protecting my woman and she isn't even mine.

She leans in a little closer. "You look good, Dean." She unpeels her arms from her chest and offers him her sunscreen. "You need some of this?"

"Yeah. Sure. Toss it over," he says.

She does. It lands three feet to his left.

Iris laughs. "Sorry. No hand-eye coordination."

"It's cool." He bends to pick it up. Undoes the cap. Squeezes it into his hand. "Fuck knows there's shit I'm not good at."

"A long list," Brendon agrees.

Dean moves onto the trail, spreading sunscreen as he walks. He's making a show of it. It's the kind of thing he does when women are around. Look at my bod.

But he knows Iris and I have an arrangement.

It must be a habit.

It better be a habit.

"It's fucking hot." Dean tosses the sunscreen back to Iris.

I step forward to catch it.

"Thanks." She slides it into her backpack. "Is it always this hot in the spring?"

"You're not from SoCal?" he asks.

"The valley. You pretty much always feel like you're standing under a heat lamp." She moves closer. "Who was the girl in the cardigan?"

"Brendon's girlfriend," Dean says. "She had to work. Too bad. We're all one big, happy family."

"Right." Brendon shakes his head what the hell is wrong with you?

I ignore it. Take Iris's hand. Focus on the scenery.

It's always beautiful here. Lemon sun. Bright blue sky. Sandy beige path surrounded by dusty green brush. The hills go forever.

Brendon moves ahead of us. He's not interested in our bullshit.

He never is.

Dean follows his lead. Picks up the pace.

I hang back with Iris. There's only a dozen feet between us, but it's intentional. It's a fuck you.

"He has to give Brendon shit about Kay." Okay, he's being an asshole. But that's not her problem.

"Hmm."

I rub her hand with my thumb. "It was a whole fucked-up thing."

"Yeah?" Her voice perks.

"You like gossip?"

"Who doesn't?"

I lean in to whisper and I explain the whole sordid story.

She nods and uh-huhs through every detail.

When I'm done, we're a hundred feet behind. Brendon and Dean are standing at the top of a hill. Brendon is looking out at the view. Dean is shaking his head too slow, huh?

"I guess we can't walk and whisper." She tugs at my arm as she moves faster.

I keep pace with her. This is a slow hike. More of a stroll. Usually, that annoys me. Usually, Dean and I get competitive about who can finish faster.

Right now, I like it.

I want to stop and smell the roses. Well, the ocean breeze and the brush.

Iris squeezes my hand as we catch up to the guys.

"Trading secrets?" Dean asks.

"Nothing big." Iris forces her lips into a smile.

"Uh-huh," Dean says.

"She, um, your girlfriend. She seemed nice." She turns to Brendon. "Does she work at the shop too?"

He shakes his head. "She hangs out sometimes." He motions to the trail shall we?

I nod and we resume the hike at an easy pace.

"Do you guys ever bring girls to the shop?" Iris asks.

"No." Brendon chuckles. "They stick to their bedrooms."

"Jealous?" Dean raises a brow.

"Yeah. I'd much rather fuck some woman I'm not gonna remember than one I love," Brendon says. "I'm seething."

"A lot of guys feel that way." Iris pulls her hand to her side. Moves forward. "Dean, you must."

"That an invitation?" He turns back to her to arch a brow. "Sorry, but I don't do threesomes anymore."

"Oh. You did once?" She tilts her head to one side, assessing his words.

"Had a phase." Dean turns back. "It's pretty simple. It's more fun to play the field. Easier."

She nods. "Yeah. I like it better too."

"Oh." His voice relaxes. "You and Walker aren't—"

"We're just having fun." She looks to me and arches a brow. Right?

I nod. Yeah. Of course. Fun. No getting hung up on the sadness behind her gorgeous blue eyes. Or what the hell she's really trying to get over. Or what her tattoo means.

She catches up to Dean. Walks in time with him. "Do you have a type?"

Brendon chuckles. "Anything with spread legs."

"Hey." He feigns offense. "Any woman with spread legs." He points to me. "Your boy isn't much more discriminating."

Iris makes eye contact. Really?

I shrug. "I enjoy women. That a crime?"

"Pretty sure a heartbeat is all either of them need," Brendon says.

"We can't all need a perfect little sub." Dean flips him off.

Brendon rolls his eyes.

"Oh." Iris presses her lips together. "You and… you're into BDSM?"

"It's not bondage or bust, but yeah. I enjoy ordering my girl around and tying her to my bed from time to time." He shoots Dean a cutting look then shoots me the same one. "Don't enjoy the commentary."

"So, you also have regular sex?" Iris asks.

The look he shoots her is more curious.

Interested even. "Yeah. All the time."

"Starfish?" Dean asks.

Brendon rolls his eyes.

Iris laughs. "Is that still a thing?"

"You know a guy? Or do it yourself? You can tell me." Dean mimes zipping his lips. "I can keep a secret."

She looks back to me. "Can he?"

I shake my head. Not even a little.

"My ex… sometimes. Not usually, just when he… just sometimes." Her gaze goes to the view. "God. This is beautiful."

"He say that too?" Dean asks.

She laughs. "No. He was light with the compliments."

"And my boy Williams?" Dean asks.

"My lips are sealed." She laughs.

Dean is teasing her.

Now he's okay with her?

What the fuck happened in the last ten minutes?

Iris stops in a patch of shade. She bends over to set her backpack on the ground and pulls out a water bottle. "Is he always this…"

"Annoying?" I offer.

"Hot and cold," she says.

Brendon stops in the shade next to her. He looks to me and raises a brow. "You really don't get why he's pissed?"

I shrug.

"Fuck, you're like a teenager." Brendon shakes his head.

"That mean you want to fuck me?" I ask.

He doesn't take the bait. "You're not my type."

"It's obvious. He feels threatened." Iris looks up at me. "Like you're gonna stop hanging out with him now that you have a girlfriend."

"But we're not—"

"I know. But maybe he doesn't believe that." She sprinkles water over her forehead. It drips off her chin and onto her chest.

"He gets the same way whenever Sabrina shows up," Brendon says.

Iris turns to him. "Who?"

He shoots me a really? look.

Really. It's my baggage. I can keep it close.

She turns to me. "Who's Sabrina?"

"My sister." I run my hand through my hair. Suddenly, the sun feels too hot. My feet are tired. My back is aching. My stance is awkward.

"Did she and Dean date or something?" She cocks her head to one side, trying to understand.

"No. It's nothing like that." I offer her my hand.

She takes it.

Brendon shoots me a look then moves forward. "I'll stop him at the next hill."

"Yeah." I turn to Iris.

She's looking up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "Why does your friend not like your sister showing up?"

"He just doesn't."

She presses her lips together. "That's it? He just doesn't."

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We've all been friends forever. They've always hated each other." That's bullshit, but it's the story I'm selling.

Iris nods like she believes me.

But I can tell she doesn't.

* * *

She's quiet for the rest of the hike.

Dean's more friendly and more obnoxious. But normal obnoxious, not I don't like you having a girl-space-friend obnoxious.

He carries the conversation—Brendon's never been much of a talker.

I try to focus on the strain in my legs, the sun on my skin, the crystal blue ocean spreading over the horizon.

But I don't.

The ocean makes me think of Iris's eyes.

It's not nearly as brilliant or deep. Not nearly as inviting.

My attention stays on her. The way her lips turn down or up. The way her hips sway as she walks. Where her gaze shifts—sometimes the sky, sometimes the ocean, sometimes Dean or Brendon or my chest or waist or ass, but never my eyes.

It's the same the way back.

It's the same when we get into the car. She clicks her seatbelt, flips the radio on, leans back, and looks out the window.

"You okay?" I turn the car on. Hit my blinker.

"Yeah. Tired. It felt good moving my body. I'm sure that's obvious to you, but it's been a long time since I've really exercised. I used to sit a lot. At work. And I do now. I mostly sit and study. So it's kind of a revelation that moving feels good. Or that hiking feels good. But it really is amazing, the fresh air and the view. And everything."

"It is." I turn. "We can do it again sometime."

"Yeah. We should. But, um, later. I'm wiped. It was a lot." She leans down to pull her water bottle from her backpack. "Not for you, I guess?"

"The heat always drains me."

"Yeah." She plays with the cap of her water bottle. "Me too." She takes a long sip. "I'm good. Really."

She's not.

But then neither am I.

* * *

I pull onto my street.

Iris leans forward to turn the music down. The sounds of pop-rock fall to a murmur—where do they get off continuing to call this station K Rock and playing this stuff?

"I, um." She pulls her arms over her chest. "I think I should head home. It's late."

It's not. The sun is just starting to set.

"I took the bus to the shop.” She pulls her backpack onto her lap. "Do you think you can drop me off in Brentwood? It's Saturday, so there shouldn't be too much traffic."

"Yeah, sure." I pull into my parking space. "But I gotta piss first."

"Oh. Sure."

"You can stay in the car or come in."

"I'll use the bathroom too." She shakes her empty water bottle. "And refill this."

I turn the car off, undo my seatbelt, pull the door open, press it shut.

Is this it?

The second shit gets complicated, we walk?

Am I that unable to discuss Sabrina with someone?

To share the one fucking thing I can't figure out with someone?

Iris slides her backpack onto one shoulder and presses the door closed. Her eyes meet mine for a second then they're on the concrete.

I motion after you.

She moves up the steps and to the door.

I slide my key into the lock and turn the handle. "You can go first."

"Okay." She moves through the living room and goes straight to the bathroom.

I press the door closed and lean against it.

This is bullshit.

I'm better than this. Stronger than this.

A few moments later, Iris steps out of the bathroom. She moves into the kitchen with careful steps. Focuses all her attention on filling her water bottle.

I head to the bathroom, piss, wash my hands.

When I step into the main room, she's sitting on the counter, tapping her feet together, sucking on her water bottle.

"If you want to know something, you can ask," I say.

She shakes her head. "I tried that. You fed me a line."

I don't have a comeback.

"It's fine, Walker. This is supposed to be easy. Casual. Whatever it is that's going on with your friend or your sister is none of my business."

"But you want to know?"

"It doesn't matter." She looks at her blue and grey sneakers. "It's none of my business."

"You can want to know."

"Okay. I do. There's a story there. And I don't like you pretending there isn't."

"And that shit about your breakup?"

Her blue eyes bore into mine. "That isn't shit. I left Ross last December. Or maybe it was mutual. It's hard to say."

"How?"

"I made a choice. He couldn't live with it."

"What choice?"

"To change my life."

"That's bullshit."

"No, it's true."

I move toward her. "Yeah, it's true. I believe that." I stare back into those blue eyes as I place myself between her legs. "But it's half the story. And your breakup isn't why you're doing all this self-help bullshit."

"Don't call it bullshit."

"You did first."

"Even so." She presses her knees against my hips. "We should head out."

"If that's what you want." I slide one hand around her waist. "Is it?"

She swallows hard. "I don't know."

"I don't believe that either."

"I don't like being questioned."

"I don't like being lied to."

"It's not a lie!"

"Misled. I don't believe you're doing this shit because you left Ross. The way you say his name—he doesn't mean anything to you."

She tugs at my t-shirt. "What the hell do you know about relationships?"

"Enough."

"How?"

"I've seen them."

She shakes her head. "It's not the same." But it's there in her eyes. She doesn't believe the story she's selling. We both know we're both full of shit.

"Did you love him?"

Her eyes turn down. "I don't know. I thought so, at the time, but now… I don't think I was in the headspace to really love someone."

"How do you know the difference?"

"You have to trust someone to fall in love with them. To trust them to catch you. And we didn't have that. I've never had that."

"Even when you were a kid?"

"Yeah. You've been in love?"

I shake my head. "Infatuated. But never love."

"Recently?"

"No."

"Are you…" She presses her lips together. "Your sister… is there more to that story?"

I nod. "And you changing your life?"

"Yeah. But I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't have to talk."

"Oh." She slides her legs around my waist.

I run my fingers over her inner thigh. She wants to be out of her head. I want to be out of my head. I really, really fucking want to dive between her legs.

This is perfect.

I just need to ease her into it.

I bring my lips to her ears. "I can drive you home. Or we can stay here and not talk. It's up to you."