Jazz covered her mouth to contain her laughter. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Shh. Gotta be quiet. We have an hour before they’re due up yet.” Gray stopped in front of the rarely used fireplace—they weren’t often necessary in Southern California—and shoved his arm inside. He fumbled around. “Damn. Nothing. Last year this was a sure bet.”

It had been a couple of weeks since the party at the Feldmans’ house, and she and Gray hadn’t mentioned it since. She hadn’t brought up partying again. It would be too weird to go with him to a get-together when they weren’t a couple. So she contented herself with playing her music—and lusting after a sweet, sexy boy she would never, ever have.

“You search for your presents every year? Why not just wait?”

Gray dusted off his blackened hands and shook his head. “Must I explain everything to you? There’s a certain way we do things in the Duffy household. Since Brent and I were kids, we always snuck around and found our presents early. Now you’re my partner in crime.”

She shrugged in spite of the belly tingles his words caused. You’re my partner in crime. “Seems like a lot of work when you’re going to get them soon enough.”

“Didn’t you ever look for yours?”

Jazz scratched her bare toes over the back of her calf. It was hard not to squirm when Gray looked at her like that, his intense gray gaze probing into her head to ferret out all of her secrets. “I didn’t really get that many,” she hedged. “Especially after Molly came around.”

“Yeah. I saw her picture in your room. She’s cute.”

Jazz nodded, smiling at the memory of the tiny blonde girl with huge blue eyes. “Everyone thinks that. Mama wanted to get her into modeling.”

“Huh. I can see why. But she’s not half as pretty as you,” he said, turning away to poke at the leather ottoman.

His careless compliments always made her blush and now was no different. While his back was turned, she flapped her hands at her cheeks to try to dispel the heat coming off her face. “You need to get your eyes checked.”

“I see just fine. Now come over here and help me feel around under this chair.”

She scrambled to help. “Under the chair?”

“Sure. These recliners have a spot near the back where there’s just space. Dad hid my new video game console in here last year.” He tossed her a grin and went back to his task.

She knelt on the opposite side of the chair and began fumbling around underneath like he was, feeling more than a little dumb. “I’m not finding—” Her fingers bumped his and he gripped them, curling them into his warm, dry palm. She swallowed, expecting him to let go right away.

He didn’t.

“Hey there,” she said, voice shaky. She couldn’t believe how good even this kind of abbreviated hand-holding with Gray felt. “Don’t think my hand counts as one of your presents.”

“Hmm. Don’t know about that.” He finally let her go and emerged from the other side of the chair. “Gimme your hand back. I think you need a palm reading.”

“A what?” She laughed and tucked her fist into her side, strangely afraid to give it back. Her heart was beating so fast she knew he must be able to hear it.

“A palm reading. I’m about to predict your future. Now give me your hand.”

She held it out and tried not to shudder when he cupped it with one of his. He used the index finger of his other hand to draw a line down the middle of her palm and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Just as I suspected.”

“You can actually see something?” She bent her head toward his, peering at her palm. “I just see—”

“Jazz.”

The urgency in his voice made her glance upward. Her pulse jackhammered in her head as he leaned forward, his mouth a whisper away. His eyes even closer. All that hot, misty gray. She’d happily drown there.

“There you are,” his mother said from the doorway, causing them to break apart as guiltily as if they’d been caught half-naked. “Your father had to go into the office early today to wrap up some—” All at once she seemed to pick up on the strange vibe in the air, along with the fact that they were both half hidden by the hulking recliner. “What’re you two up to?” Mistrust had crept into her voice and lined the fine-boned face so much like her son’s. Gray’s features were more rugged, but there was no doubt they were related.

There was also no doubting the disapproval that fell around her like a coat she’d worn too many times before. Not with Jazz. Never with Jazz.

Until now.

“Nothing.” Gray squeezed Jazz’s hand and set it back in her lap, as casually as could be. “Just showing Jazz how you and Dad try to outwit Brent and me every year with your creative hiding places. Luckily we can’t be schooled.”

Jazz remained where she was as Gray walked around the chair to talk to his mom. She shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Now she knew Mrs. Duffy didn’t want her anywhere near her son, at least not like that. Jazz couldn’t blame her. Mrs. Duffy had been an amazing foster mother so far, a million times better than any other she’d ever had, but expecting her to be okay with her precious son taking up with someone like Jazz—if he’d even been about to kiss her, which might’ve been just her overactive imagination—was asking for way too much.

She was lucky Mrs. Duffy had taken her in at all. And it was time for her to stop asking for more when she already had so much.

After sucking in another breath, she emerged from beyond the chair and smiled her brightest smile. If it killed her, no one would ever know when her heart was breaking. She’d promised herself that years ago on the first night her mama hadn’t come home, leaving her all alone while Mama spent the night at her boyfriend’s with Molly. No one would see her cry anything but happy tears.

“Do I smell blueberry pancakes?” she asked, walking forward to give Mrs. Duffy a quick hug as she always did in the morning.

“You do. Never can hide anything from you.” Mrs. Duffy flicked her nose and smiled, her momentary displeasure from earlier all but gone. Her eyes were still wary, as if she didn’t know what to think of her anymore.

She’d overstepped her bounds. Again.

You’re nothing but a fucking slut, Jazz. I can’t even trust you around Jacob. That’s why I don’t bring you with Molly to his place. You try to tease him with those tits of yours.

Though Jazz’s smile wavered, she managed not to shrink back behind Gray. She’d just have to try harder, that was all. She’d do more chores and do better in school. If she didn’t give up, perhaps one day Mrs. Duffy would love her where her own mother hadn’t.

Most importantly, she would stay far away from Gray.