How do you know?” she asks, looking at me curiously.

“Uh … we’re both doing the same work. We’re—umm—sort of working together.”

“Oh, I see. Now the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. Thrown together by destiny, both of you working toward the same goal. Falling in love while you do everything you can to make money and improve your life.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic. Sometimes I think all those cheesy romance movies you love have warped your brain. Life doesn’t really work that way.”

“You can’t believe that.” She grows suddenly serious. Very serious. “You used to believe in true love. It’s the only thing that makes life worth living. When you’ve had a terrible day and the wolf is at the door, wanting money for the gas, electric, phone, the mortgage, and you just don’t know where it’s going to come from, it is love that keeps you going. When your boss is a bastard and makes you wonder why you even bother working for him in the first place, all you have to do is go home and look into your daughter’s innocent eyes.” She sighs deeply. “Suddenly, even all the bastards in the world cannot take away the true joy of life because of her sweet smile. Hell, when you miss the bus and it starts pissing down with rain and of course, you left your umbrella at work, you walk home from the bus station to your house soaked and frozen, then you open your door, and there’s your baby safe and sound, and it warms you up from the inside out. Love is everything, Dakota. Everything.”

“Oh, Mom.”

“I’m serious. I’ll be gone soon and you need to find someone for yourself. A man. Someone to turn to when times are tight. Somebody to lean on and share your troubles with.”

“I’m not interested in getting a man, Mom. I can take care of myself and right now my priority is you.”

“Every woman needs someone. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I had one. Somebody to help ease the burden a little. I don’t mean just financially, but…you know…emotionally.”

I can’t help but feel a little guilty and sad for her when she talks about her wasted life. “I held you back from finding that kind of happiness didn’t I?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What do you call it, then? No man wanted a woman with a kid, no matter how young you were or how pretty you were. If anything, they were too young to want to be tied down.”

“It just isn’t true. I didn’t have the time for it.” She shrugs. “Maybe I was too busy. Maybe I fooled myself into thinking there wasn’t the time. You were my world. You still are. I couldn’t give myself to anybody else when I gave so much to you.”

“So that still makes it my fault.”

“You’re a stubborn girl.”

“You’re a stubborn woman,” I shoot back.

She tuts and shakes her head. “Of all the things to pass onto you. My stubborn streak had to be it.”

“You passed on a lot more than that.”

We fall into an easy silence as we both turn our attention to the TV. A game show, of course. Unlike the game show I’m on, where the organizers tried to make us steal. Thank God, she never watches the new stuff. Only reruns of the shows from the time she was a girl. I guess it’s a nostalgic thing with her. I know I can’t keep Dare Me a secret from her forever. Besides, I’ll eventually have to tell her about the money. She’ll want to know where it came from. A few thousand dollars could be explained away without much effort. A million? A whole different story.

“So, about this young man…” she says in a sing-song tone as soon as we reach a commercial break.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t let it go that easily,” I groan, never looking away from the TV.

“When are you going to bring him around for supper?”

My head whirls around in her direction. “I’m not. Not ever. Absolutely not.”

Her face falls. “Because you don’t want him to see me like this?”

“Of course not!” I reply, stunned. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’d take you to meet the Queen of England if I could. What I meant was that there’s no point in inviting him to dinner when he would never come.” I feel a bit sad as I say this. “There wouldn’t be a reason for him to. It would be extremely irregular for me to do something like that.”

“You don’t get along with him?”

“He’s totally impossible. I already told you that.”

Her smile is wise, knowing, gentle. “Ah, a bit of a prick, is he?”

“Mom,” I gasp.

“Even bad boys can be warmed up. Never say never.”

I shake my head. How do I explain it to her in a way that she’ll understand? I can’t keep dancing around the truth of the subject with her. “The thing is, Mom. He’s sort of my competition. Even though we’re on the same team for now, that won’t always be the case. Eventually, if we keep doing as well as we’re doing, we’ll have to compete against each other.”

“Oh. I see. You can’t get too close to the competition.”

“Exactly. It wouldn’t work.”

“Because you’ll eventually have to turn on each other, and you don’t want your feelings for him to get in the way.”

“Yes.” I smile bravely. While I was riding on the back  of his bike, I forgot that small fact. “See. I knew you’d understand.” As long as she doesn’t ask too many questions about specifics. I can’t imagine what she must think I’m doing.

“Sure. I understand.” Her smile widens innocent and full of joy. “But you know something? It works both ways.”

“What does?”

“Becoming so close to somebody that you don’t want to do what you know needs to be done to beat them. You’re not the only person on your little team of two who could fall victim to that phenomena.”

My eyes open wide. “Mom. Do you know what you’re implying?”

“Oh, sweetness. I’m not implying. I’m saying it straight out. You wanna win? You might have to allow him to catch feelings for you. Who knows? It could work in your favor.” She drops a broad wink. “Besides, if he’s half as handsome as you say he is, it might not be all bad. You might even enjoy it.”

“I cannot, and I mean cannot, believe we’re having this conversation!” I bend forward, burying my head in my hands.

“Oh, come on, Dakota. I taught you about the birds and the bees.”

“Yes, I know,” I say with a wry smile. “I remember it vividly to this day.”

“Come, come. We’re both adults.”

“Sorry, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable.”

“I’m not asking you prostitute yourself for the sake of winning. Just, you know, let him see you for the beautiful girl you are. Be a little extra…well…friendly. Win him over.”

“I have never been more embarrassed in my life, and that’s saying something.” Especially, considering what I just did this morning. “I feel like this conversation needs to come to an end before you say anything that will scar me for life.”

She laughs. “All right. All right. Kids nowadays are too PC.” She shrugs before turning up the volume on the TV. “I’ll keep all my wisdom to myself then, and you won’t be able to benefit from it.”

“That works for me. I’ll fix you some lunch,” I say, standing up.

Anything to get out of that room. I know she’s only half-serious. She’s my mom, and it’s her job to tease me, make me uncomfortable, then laugh at the way I blush and stammer. Actually, I’m glad we had something to talk about other than how sick she feels and how worried she is about paying for treatment. I’m glad she’s in such a good mood.

Mom thinks I should let him develop feelings for me, so he won’t be able to compete against me when the time comes. That’s all well and good—but she doesn’t know him, and she doesn’t know the way we are together. He’ll never like me. We’re always at each other’s throats, always getting under each other’s skin.

Skin.

My heart picks up speed when I remember his skin, the way it felt under my hands when I slid them around his waist and clasped them over his steely abs. I fought off the burning urge to run my lips over his broad back. I just blamed it on biology. On the deep, pulsing throb between my legs. That was the engine’s fault. It would have happened no matter who was driving that motorcycle. There’s nothing I could have done about that. If I had taken the bus home like I’d expected to, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I wouldn’t have lost my head and wouldn’t be thinking these thoughts.

No. He’ll never come so close to making a fool of himself over me as I did over him. He’s too arrogant, too good-looking, too confident, and way too focused. It’s that focus I have to worry about, not his smile, his sexy eyes, or the way his butt looked in my underwear.

He won’t stop at anything to win this game. I saw it in his eyes when the text arrived that we would have to steal. He was willing to do it. If he hadn’t come up with an alternative, he would have stolen the clothes without hesitation.

I wonder why he needs the money so bad. There has to be a reason, though I can’t imagine what it would be. I suppose we all have our reasons, don’t we?

Still, it was fun to work with him this morning. He’s a good teammate. And even when we were making fun of each other and slinging barbs back and forth, I had a good time. He’s exciting, interesting, and smart as hell. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the company of a guy. Maybe never. Even when he is being an insufferable jackass, and he does that a lot, I want to be with him. The thing is…I can be myself around him. I haven’t tried to flirt with him or make him like me, and I won’t. I’ll win this game fair and square.

I smile to myself as I spread tuna salad on a slice of wheat bread for Mom’s lunch. He should have looked ridiculous in my boy shorts, but he looked devastatingly hot. I never thought I’d ever meet a man like him, one who can look good even when he is making a ridiculous fool of himself.  

I’m frowning again, as I slap another slice of bread on top and cut the sandwich in half. He is so out of my league. Still, he did say I looked hot too, didn’t he? I almost wish I didn’t like that so much. That it didn’t make me feel so warm and gooey inside.

I hear Mom start coughing out in the living room—the sort of cough that starts out as a laugh but goes out of control. And that’s enough to snap me out of my little daydreams, the memories of the fun with Trent. He’s not important. His body isn’t important, his motorcycle isn’t important. The way he feels about me isn’t important, either. Whether he really thinks I’m hot, or if he thinks I’m a heinous bitch. None of it matters more than my mother. She’s my priority. She’s the reason I have to win. I don’t care what his reasons are.

My fingers tighten around the bread knife until it hurts. “You alright in there?” I call out when the coughing eases, trying to keep my voice as light as possible so she doesn’t tell me not to worry so much.

“Sure, I’m alright. You know how it is.” She sounds weaker than she did earlier. Worn out.

Yes. I know exactly how it is.