Chapter Eight

 

Summer was supposed to be paying attention to her brother and the work he was doing at the Clinic. Sure, her eyes were pointed in Georgey’s general direction. But that wasn’t what she saw.

Instead, she saw Tim Means above her, sleep thick in his eyes and his body heavy on hers. She saw the moment when he’d realized who she was—and the moment when he hadn’t rolled off her. She relived touching him, the way his eyelids had fluttered and he’d shivered—actually shivered. Because of her.

And that kiss… God, the feeling of his lips against hers, the weight of his body pressing down on her? The way he’d stared into her eyes in the bathroom and told her he was going to kiss her again later?

She touched her lips and smiled. So the whole summer-fling thing was a go, it seemed. There was only one problem with it.

Georgey. He was dripping sweat and every time he moved, Summer got that much closer to hosing him off. Why did teen boys smell so much? She honestly couldn’t tell if that was just boy sweat or if he’d layered on some body spray to intentionally smell that bad. Whatever it was, Summer was surprised the staff of the Clinic hadn’t said something. The kid was a one-man health hazard.

Despite the eye-watering odor, Georgey got the window in. Clarence, the big male nurse, came over and looked over Georgey's work because Summer didn’t have a clue if the glass was in correctly or not.

She half expected Georgey to cop an attitude with Clarence, but he didn’t. Instead, it seemed like the kid hung on Clarence’s approval. He looked nervous—although that could’ve been because he didn’t want to redo the window. Or because he was afraid of Clarence.

Clarence took his sweet time studying the window. He hmm-ed and uh-huh-ed a couple times until Georgey apparently couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well?” the boy demanded.

Clarence gave him a dull look. “You got someplace else you need to be?” he said in a voice that got perilously close to booming.

“No, sir,” Georgey quickly answered, dropping his chin.

Summer hid her smile behind her hand. But she didn’t dare interrupt Clarence. He reminded her of the assistant principal at her high school, Mr. Schunking, who also coached the wrestling team.

“Not bad, for a kid,” Clarence finally pronounced in serious tones. He tapped on the glass and Summer held her breath—what if the whole thing flipped out?

But it held.

“Now what?” Georgey said. “I fixed it. I’m done, right?”

Clarence snorted and glanced over at Summer. “You got anything you need him for?”

“Um…” She hadn’t gotten that far. She hadn’t realized Georgey was going to get the window done today and she’d been too busy thinking about kissing the sheriff.

“Because my wife could use a hand next door. At the Child Care Center,” Clarence explained when it became obvious Summer no idea what he was talking about. He sighed. “Dr. Mitchell’s sister runs it with my wife—it’s the only daycare on the rez. But Tammy’s seven months pregnant and she can’t chase the kids around.” He swung his massive head back around to Georgey. “Can you play soccer?”

“It’s not complicated,” Georgey said as he rolled his eyes. “It’s just kicking a ball around.”

“So you think you can handle it?” Clarence replied, unperturbed by the attitude. Then again, Summer found it hard to believe there was much that bothered the big man.

Georgey looked at Clarence suspiciously, then he turned to Summer and waited. For permission, she realized. Was he tacitly agreeing Summer was in charge? Well, wasn’t that something?

“That’s fine.” Because frankly, she wasn’t sure what else to do with the boy just yet—and she wasn’t ready to go back to Tim’s house, either. Not with Georgey in tow. How was she supposed to act with Tim while Georgey was hanging around? “Congratulations,” she added to Clarence. “Is this your first one?”

The big man’s whole face softened into a wide smile. “We also have a six-year-old—my adopted son.”

We are all family. Summer couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that went through her. She glanced at Georgey and saw he was staring at the ground.

What would their lives had been like if their stepparents had welcomed them into each other’s homes? If they’d been a family, no matter what?

Clarence walked over to the door that separated the Clinic from the daycare. “Babe?” he said in a quiet voice. “Georgey will help out.”

“Oh, good,” an equally soft voice replied.

Summer peeked around Clarence and saw that most of the kids were on cots—but not all of them were sleeping. A few older kids were either sitting at a small table or flopping around on the floor, reading. The room was an organized mess, with art on the walls and toys shoved onto shelves and in bins. But the whole room felt warm and fun.

Clarence introduced Summer to his wife. Tammy Thunder was a small, plump and very pregnant young woman with a sweet smile—the kind of woman who was so obviously a natural with children it made Summer wonder if she could ever measure up.

Which was sort of the wrong way to go about it. Summer could handle the bigger kids. It was just babies who made her nervous.

“It’s good to meet you,” Tammy said in that quiet voice. She maneuvered over to a ragged-looking couch and sat down. Summer followed, but Georgey hung back by the door, looking awkward. “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d have Georgey run a soccer game. I just can’t keep up these days and Melonie had to go to court this afternoon.”

“Melonie?”

Tammy nodded. “My boss—Dr. Mitchell’s sister. Oh, and Nobody’s wife. I heard you met him?”

Summer blushed. “I…did? I guess?”

Tammy laughed. “That’s all most people can say. He’s hard to pin down.” She gave Summer a long look.

Summer began to squirm and she wasn’t sure why. Tammy was, hands down, the easiest person to talk to on this reservation.

“Why is your boss in court?”

“Melonie? Oh, she’s an advocate. Tim arrested a couple of kids who were underage and she’s shepherding them through the system, making sure they have some place to go if they make bail.” She looked up to Georgey, who still looked horribly uncomfortable. “Including Shorty and Blaine.”

Embarrassment flamed over his cheeks. “Yeah, I heard.”

“Blaine had a concussion and a broken jaw. Did you know that?”

Georgey shook his head and Summer had to turn to look at Tammy. Oh, she was a tough nut. Underneath that warm, soft exterior was a woman who took no crap. Summer liked her immensely.

“Clarence fixed him up,” Tammy went on. “That could have been you, you know.”

Georgey slumped against the doorframe in surrender. “I know,” he said, sounding miserable.

A couple kids who’d been doing a lousy job pretending to be asleep sat up and stared openly. One little boy still had his thumb in his mouth.

“Well!” Tammy said in a bright voice. A few more kids sat up. “I think it’s time for snacks and then Georgey’s going to play soccer with us! I think we’ll have Jamie lead one team and Georgey the other!”

That got almost everyone up and cheering and suddenly the whole place was a swarming mass of excited children. Summer sat on the edge, answering all sorts of nosy questions from overenthusiastic kids without a filter. Who was she? What was her name? Was she really an Indian? Was she going to play soccer, too?

Which was how she found herself maybe not playing soccer, but refereeing the game. Jamie turned out to be the oldest kid at the center, maybe ten or eleven. And he was the son of the mysterious Nobody—adopted, Tammy told her in quiet tones from where she sat in the shade, keeping an eye on the babies.

“Are they related?”

Tammy shook her head, but then added, “We’re all related somewhere along the line, you know?”

Summer remembered Clarence had adopted Tammy’s son, too. The whole thing was so unusual. She’d encountered more than her fair share of relatives who refused to take a child into their home for whatever reasons. She’d seen kids get shunted off to foster care, alone and unwanted. Black, white—it hadn’t really mattered.

But here, relatives stepped up. Non-relatives stepped up. People took care of the kids—or they tried, anyway. Summer looked at Georgey as he coached his team of kids, ranging from ages three to nine, up and down the field. Was she really it?

But then she thought of Tim Means. He’d had Georgey sleeping on his couch rather than leaving him in a cell. He’d fronted the money for the glass to replace the broken window.

“He’s doing well,” Tammy observed as Georgey yelled, “No, no—the other way—the other way!” as a little kid headed for his own goal.

Summer didn’t even try to hide her smile as Georgey went “Argh!” in frustration—but didn’t cuss.

“I’m still trying to understand everything,” she told Tammy. “Where is his mom?”

Tammy sighed. “I hate it when a kid slips through the cracks. But the thing is, the cracks out here on the rez are so much bigger and there are so many more of them. We do the best we can but before the center here opened, there was no place for kids to go. They either stayed with relatives while their parents worked or they were home alone.”

“Seriously? I can’t imagine leaving a little kid home alone like that.”

“It happens. I just wish we had something for the older kids. Jamie only comes because Melonie adopted him with Nobody. Kids like Shorty and Blaine—Georgey’s friends—they’re too old for this.”

“Great job, buddy!” Georgey yelled when a little boy went the right way and actually managed to kick the ball.

“They don’t have anywhere to go or anything safe to do and that’s when the gangs get them,” Tammy finished sadly. “Tim’s doing his best, but one or two men can’t hold back the wind.”

“Aren’t there any after-school programs? Sports or drama?”

Tammy gave her a sad smile. “Most kids drop out before that point.”

“Tim mentioned that I might be able to pick up teaching some GED classes at…um…”

“Sinte Gliske? I got my associate’s degree from there. That’d be great. If you’re going to stay for a while…”

Summer looked out at the gaggle of kids running and kicking and—yes—falling down, all laughing and shouting and having fun. All the kids had the same dark hair, the same brown skin—and the same huge smiles. This was as close to the way she remembered the pow wow had made her feel yet. The sense of community pulled at her.

No, it wasn’t community. It was something stronger. Family. “I want to make sure things with Georgey are really settled,” she told Tammy. Not to mention things with a certain sheriff. “And Tim said there was a pow wow in a few months. I haven’t been to one since I was twelve.”

“Where are you staying? With Dr. Mitchell?”

Summer’s cheeks got hot. “Um, no—actually, we’re staying with Tim. Sheriff Means,” she added stupidly, as if Tammy didn’t know who Tim was. But suddenly it felt important to talk about Tim in his professional capacity—without all the familiarity. “He’d been letting Georgey sleep on his couch instead of in a cell at the jail,” she added.

Tammy opened her mouth to say something, then she winced and rubbed at her belly. “Oof, sorry. Well, I’m sure Tim has things for Georgey to do, but I’m always happy to have him help out. The kids love him.”

That much was obvious as someone scored—possibly even on Jamie’s team—and everyone lined up to high-five everyone else. Georgey had a small knot of excited children clinging to his legs and he had on what might have been the first real smile Summer had seen on his face.

If she took him back to Minneapolis with her, he’d lose this. He’d lose people like Clarence and Nobody and Tammy—and, yes, Tim. People who’d go out of their way to give him one more chance, to give him the push he needed.

If she took Georgey back with her, he’d be alone. Not completely alone—but he’d have her and that was it. He’d be cut off from everything he knew, his people and his culture.

Could she do that to her brother?

***

Tim dragged his butt home at a reasonable six-thirty in the evening. Everyone had been processed. Everyone with outstanding warrants had been handed up the food chain. Everyone who was going to make bail had made bail.

The FBI was all over the Los Perros lead and Tim had been effectively iced out. Normally, that might have sat wrong with him—but he was just too damn tired to care.

He hurt and he didn’t want to see the inside of the White Sandy police station again for another week. Which wasn’t going to happen. He was going to be right back there tomorrow morning sometime between seven and eight.

It was a sad day when twelve solid hours at home was like a vacation.

He should still be at the station. Jack was sleeping on the station couch tonight and—against Tim’s better judgment—Nobody was going to be out and about. Tim and Jack were running on less than fumes and if some shit went down, Nobody was going to be the first responder, anyway.

Tim did not like Nobody Bodine. But at this point, the man was acting almost as an unofficial deputy. It went against everything Tim held true about the law and if Nobody stuck anyone in a cell, Tim would have to let them go tomorrow morning.

But he needed sleep. Jack wasn’t much better. So Nobody Bodine was the last line of defense on the White Sandy tonight.

Summer’s car was parked in front of his house. Just about the only thing that had kept him going today had been the thought of coming home to her and picking up where he’d left off—half naked and wrapped up in each other. All naked would be better but Tim was happy to take what he could get at this point.

He put his shoulder in the door and almost fell in to his house. Okay, so maybe the all-naked thing would have to wait just a little bit longer.

From the kitchen, Summer spun and let out a squeak. She had his oven mitt on her hand and she appeared to be…cooking?

“Tim! You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he said, dragging his butt inside and getting the door shut. “The door sticks.”

Her lips quirked into a grin. “So I’ve noticed.” She looked at him. “You look exhausted. I’m making dinner, if you can hold out that long.”

Tim exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. For years, he’d come home to an empty, dark house. There was something so profoundly normal about Summer waiting for him that he didn’t even recognize the emotions that tumbled through him. He just suddenly knew he’d been missing this moment for a long, long time.

“I will eat anything you put in front of me,” he told her, slouching into the kitchen chair then sitting up straighter because slouching didn’t work with his ribs.

“It’s not fancy,” she told him. She opened the fridge and the next thing he knew, she set a beer in front of him. “You don’t have a lot to work with. Macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and green beans.”

He stared at the beer for what felt like a stupid long time before he looked up at her. She was standing at the edge of the table and she had on this sweet little grin as she watched over him and all of a sudden, he thought, I could love you. The words tripped right up to the end of his tongue before he managed to clamp his jaw shut.

That was not the thing he should say right now. Yeah, he liked her and yeah, he’d enjoyed kissing her earlier and okay, yeah, she’d been the one person who’d kept him going all day long. But even in his sorry state, declarations of love just because a pretty woman made him dinner and got him a beer before he realized he wanted one were a bad move.

He opened the beer and took a long pull. “It sounds wonderful,” he said sincerely. If he’d come home on his own, he probably would’ve had a couple hot dogs and fallen into bed. But macaroni and cheese had never sounded so good.

Then he realized they were alone. “Where’s Georgey?”

“In the shower,” she said in a severe tone. “He smelled like expired aftershave. It was not pretty. But,” she went on, sounding far perkier than Tim could achieve at the moment, “he got the window in and done and he spent the afternoon chasing small children around the field with a soccer ball. And he didn’t even cuss that much.”

Tim felt the grin on his face. “Is that a fact?”

“He’s welcome back at the childcare center any time,” she told him as she put his oven mitts back on and lifted the pot of boiling water and noodles. She carried it to the sink, but Tim knew he didn’t have a strainer. As he watched, she picked up a plate, held it over the lip of the pot, and slowly poured out most of the water.

It was nuts how much watching her do that affected him. Jesus, he must be more tired than he’d thought, but seriously? Not only could he love her, she could fit in his world. He knew she had to have a better life back in Minneapolis—one that included basic kitchen utensils like strainers—but she’d just slipped right into his as if she’d always been here.

He couldn’t tell her that, not without sounding like a wacko. But…

Tim pulled himself to his feet. “How long has he been in the shower?” he asked as he walked toward her.

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. He…”

But whatever she’d been about to say faded away as Tim reached her. “Then we’ve got a few minutes,” he said low and close to her ear as he trailed his fingers over her shoulder and down her back.

She carefully set the pot upright so she wouldn’t lose all her noodles, then turned. Tim’s hands came to rest on her waist and he leaned into her. “I suppose we do,” she said in a breathy voice as her arms came around his neck and she tilted her head up.

“This counts as later,” he told her as he brushed his lips over her forehead and her cheek before working his way toward her mouth.

“Definitely later,” she agreed.

God, she felt so good in his arms. The warmth of her body drove the pain in his chest away and the way her mouth moved against his?

He’d been kissing girls since he was at least Georgey’s age. But not recently. He’d forgotten how much he loved the soft touch and sweet little noises women made. It was entirely possible he was just too tired and everything was affecting him too much but he didn’t think so. He didn’t feel so.

He had a vague sense this was all out of order. There hadn’t been anything that could count as a date, but all he wanted to do was walk her back to the bed and sink into her body.

“Tim,” she whispered against his skin as his hands begin to slide up over her ribs. To his ears, it sounded a hell of a lot like yes.

“A-hem.”

Summer jumped in his arms and Tim knew what that sound was. That was a no, plain as day.

He half-turned—it was as far as he could go without releasing Summer—and found Georgey staring at them. His hair was wet and his eyes narrowed and he’d crossed his arms in disapproval. For some reason, the combination made Tim want to laugh. Even though the kid was all of a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, he was pulling off a very good impression of intimidating at the moment. All because Tim was kissing his sister. A sister he hadn’t even remembered having until last week.

But Tim didn’t laugh.

“Georgey!” Summer gasped, trying to wriggle out of Tim’s arms. He didn’t let go. “We were just—I mean—um…”

“Heard you got the window in,” Tim said, pivoting until Summer was behind him. She was embarrassed, that much he could tell. He wanted to protect her from that. “It better still be there tomorrow.”

Georgey looked indignant. “I’m not gonna break it again.”

“You might not. But someone else might. And wouldn’t that be a shame.”

The kid’s eyes got even wider. “You mean you’d make me fix it again if someone else breaks it?”

Tim shrugged. “You know how to do it.” When Georgey glared at him, Tim said, “It’s not much fun when people trash your shit, is it?”

“You’re an ass—”

Instead of hiding behind him, Summer stepped around him. Tim shouldn’t, but he put his arm back around her waist.

Georgey stumbled on asshole so quickly he all but bit himself. “Jerk,” he bit off.

Tim grinned at him over Summer’s head. “You’re coming with me tomorrow morning,” he told the kid. “My jail got trashed by a bunch of gangbangers and state troopers and you’re still doing community service.” When Georgey groaned, Tim added, “If you can make it through the morning without pissing me off, I’ll let you go play soccer with the kids again in the afternoon. I heard you did a good job.”

Georgey’s mouth flopped open, but whatever remark he'd been about to make died in the face of the compliment. “Oh. It was fun. Better than putting in a window,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze. He almost looked like he was blushing.

There was hope for that kid yet. Tim was lifted by a feeling he was doing something right—he and Summer. Together, they were holding Georgey back from the edge of disaster. “Your sister made us dinner. Set the table.”

There was a moment where no one moved. Summer hadn’t said anything since Georgey stumbled upon them kissing. Georgey looked like he was debating whether he was going along with any of this. And Tim was just waiting to see who’d give first.

It was Summer. “The macaroni and cheese is almost ready,” she said and this time, when she pulled away from Tim, he had no choice but to let her go.

He did want to eat, after all.

Dinner was interesting. Georgey kept looking at him, then Summer, then him again. Summer kept laughing in a high, tight way Tim took to mean she was nervous. And Tim—well, dinner was a hell of a lot better than anything he would’ve cooked for himself.

He couldn’t quite figure out why Summer was so anxious, though. It wasn’t as if Georgey didn’t know people kissed. Knowing his mother, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if the kid had walked in on a lot worse. And the kid had to have had girlfriends. He was attractive enough, in that dorky teenager way girls liked.

She kept up a steady stream of small talk, about the soccer game Georgey had coached and GED classes out of the college and whether Georgey should get his GED or if he should reenroll and finish high school traditionally. Georgey, for his part, kept his mouth shut and his eyes down. Odd.

Finally Summer seemed to run out of things to talk about. Which was fine, because they were done eating.

“Well!” she said, standing and grinning like a loon. “Georgey, why don’t you start on the dishes while I check Tim’s ribs.”

Georgey smirked. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Summer shot tomato red and before he knew what he was doing, Tim leaned over and smacked the kid upside the back of the head. “Don’t talk to your sister that way.”

Summer gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “You two,” she said in exasperation. Even though she was still bright red, she stood and pointed at Georgey. “You watch your attitude.” The kid had the good sense to look at least a little cowered.

Then she swung that dangerous finger toward him. “And you. You can’t keep smacking him around.”

“Why not?” The moment he said it, Tim realized that was not the right thing. But honestly, he was a little confused. He tackled people, he shot people—he was, at this very moment, giving Nobody Bodine more-or-less a blank check to do all the same things.

“Because,” Summer said, clearly flustered. “We are not allowed to touch the children under any circumstance. Period.”

Tim couldn’t help it. He cracked a grin. He glanced at Georgey and saw Georgey was trying not to laugh, too. “You know we’re not in school, right?”

He was making this worse. Summer was so angry, he swore he could see steam start to come out of her ears. “Yes. Thank you. I’m aware I’m not at school. But there's still a code of conduct I believe must be upheld. And that includes no physical assaults on the children.”

“He barely hit me,” Georgey said, miraculously coming to Tim’s defense when he could have easily piled on. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” she shot back and stormed from the room.

“Get started on the dishes,” Tim told Georgey. He forced himself to his feet and followed Summer.

Georgey might’ve made some noises of disapproval, but Tim ignored him. The kid had no room to talk anyway. “Summer?”

She was pacing in the bedroom, worrying the nail on her thumb. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?” He needed to tread carefully here.

“I overreacted, didn’t I? I know I did.” She stopped pacing and took some deep breaths that involved her hands pushing imaginary air in and out. “We’re not allowed to touch the students,” she said again, as if that explained everything.

“I picked up on that,” he told her, easing himself down onto the bed. He left the door open on purpose because he suspected the fact that Georgey caught them kissing was at least sixty percent of the problem. “I don’t beat kids, you know.”

She looked stricken. “I didn’t say you did. I’m just not used to the rules here. If I touched a student like that, I might’ve even been suspended from work. Violence is never the answer.”

At that, Tim couldn’t help but snort. He began to work the buttons on his uniform shirt. “That’s a real pretty sentiment,” he said, and he realized it came out sounding patronizing.

Now she was glaring at him. “You think I’m ridiculous.”

It was not a question. “No, I don’t. Like you said, you’re not used to the rules around here. I’m sure in your world, people keep their hands to themselves and live in harmony. But in my world,” he went on, wincing as he moved his arm to slide the shirt off, “violence is a way of life.”

“You make it sound so…savage,” she said in a whisper.

“Not the word I would’ve used,” he said dryly. Then he hefted himself back to his feet. “How’s this looking?”

As a subject change, it wasn’t exactly subtle. But it worked. Summer’s gaze dropped to his chest and he heard her suck in a little gasp of air. Then she stepped into him and reached out her hand. He tensed, but she didn’t touch him, not right away. His chest was still wrapped and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to having the bandage unwound.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her.

“I’m not sure it is,” she said. “Turn around.” Tim did as she asked and she undid the ends of the bandage and began winding it away from his skin.

As the gentle pressure that the elastic bandage had exerted against his chest was released, he winced as his muscles unclenched then stiffened in pain.

“It looks terrible,” she told him, her fingertips lightly stroking over his bruised skin.

“It feels like hell,” he agreed, then turned to face her. “There,” he said lifting her chin and staring into her bright eyes. “I feel better already.”

Embarrassment bloomed on her cheeks and her gaze cut to the doorway. “Georgey…”

Yeah, he guessed right. She was more embarrassed about being caught kissing than she was mad about him smacking the kid upside the head. He pointedly glanced toward the open door—and, thankfully, no one had his head poked through. “What about him?”

She shot him a dirty look. “We can’t exactly do this with him around.” Before he could ask what that meant, she quickly added, “Whatever this is.”

“This,” he said, settling his hands back on her hips and pulling her tight against him, “is two adults who are attracted to each other—right?”

She was tense in his arms, but only for a second before she melted. “Right,” she said, but she didn’t sound happy about it.

“Two consenting adults who don’t have any other obligations, right?”

“Right,” she said again, resting her head against his shoulder.

He was able to take a deep breath without too much pain, because she was there. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “This doesn’t strike you as awkward at all?”

“The only awkward thing here is the fact that I’m exhausted and sore. If it weren’t for that, I’d close that door and lay you down and pick right back up are we left off this afternoon.”

His words had an immediate impact. Summer’s eyes widened and a flash of something that looked a hell of a lot like want crossed her face—before it was buried behind worry. “You can’t be serious.”

“Summer, the kid is seventeen. He knows what sex is.”

He was not making this any better. “But he would know,” she stammered out. “About us. About…you know.”

Tim sighed again, which made his ribs pull. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Yeah, he was attracted to her and yeah, she was attracted to him. But there was a whole hell of a lot more to a relationship than just sexual chemistry. The fact was, she might be too sweet and innocent to deal with a man like him. The gulf between their worlds might be too damned wide.

Still, what was she going to do when she got Georgey back to the big city? Was she going to spend the next year—or several years—not dating just because her brother might know she was kissing men?

She must’ve taken his sigh the wrong way because she got a worried look and said, “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“What? No.” He might not be the most chivalrous of men, but he wasn’t about to let her sleep on that crappy couch. “You get the bed. Or,” he added, cutting her off when her mouth opened to argue, “we can share the bed.”

Her eyes got very wide. “We can’t do that.”

He cupped her face in his hands and stared down into her eyes. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” Because that was the question that had been bothering him for a long time. “You’re beautiful and caring and intelligent. You should have someone who’d miss you.”

He could feel her blush as much as see it. The skin under his fingertips warmed. “I don’t need a man just because I should have one.”

He thought about that. “What about your friends? I know you told me you gave up your summer school job to stay out here a little while longer—won’t your friends miss you?”

Something that looked like pain flashed in her eyes, then she pulled free of his grip so quickly he almost lost his balance. “I have friends,” she said in the tight voice.

Something in him responded on a basic level—his gut instinct. The same gut instinct that told him Georgey wasn’t hopeless.

She was lonely. He recognized it all too well.

“Who’s going to miss you while you’re here?”

Her spine stiffened. “I am not some pitiful spinster, you know,” she snapped under her breath. “I have friends.”

She hadn’t answered the question. “You have your job,” he said slowly, the truth dawning on him. “You have your students and your coworkers and your mom, right?”

She glared at him but she didn’t answer.

“And you tell yourself that that’s enough—but it’s not. Not like this is.” And before she could reply, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her like he hadn’t kissed a woman in so long, he wasn’t sure he was doing it right.

In fact, he was pretty sure he was doing it wrong because her arms came up and she pushed him away. He let her, but he didn’t let go of her.

“You do not know me,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling in anger. “You don’t know me at all.”

“I think I do—because that’s how I feel, too.”

“I don’t—what?” She blinked up at him, momentarily stunned. “What are you talking about? This is where you belong.”

“I know. This is my tribe and my people and my land—but I arrest so many of them and the ones who are left…I’m a stranger to them.” He touched his forehead to hers. “And you—you are a stranger. But that’s not how I feel when I’m with you.”

“They would miss you,” she insisted—but quietly. “I would miss you.”

He breathed out slowly. “When you go back to the city, I’m going to miss you too.” No, it didn’t make any sense to him at all. He’d only known her for a matter of days. But there was something about her that called to him. “When you’re around, I don’t feel so alone.”

And that? That was pitiful. That was weakness. And it wasn’t the kind of weakness that could be prevented with a bulletproof vest.

He’d left himself open. Maybe it was the ribs. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe…maybe it was something else.

Maybe it was her.

She sighed, her warm breath caressing his skin. “Let me get you some more ice. And then,” she added in what he thought of as her teacher voice, “you’re going to lay on this bed and sleep.”

He couldn’t fight the grin that took hold of his mouth. “What about you?”

She stepped out of his arms and moved toward the open door. When she reached it, she looked back at him and he saw the longing in her eyes. It was so strong he almost told her to come back and sleep with him tonight. Begged her to do just that.

“I can take care of myself,” she told him.

And she walked away.

***

While she got the ice, she heard Tim in the bathroom. Amazingly, Georgey had the dishes almost done and set out on the drying rack. How long has she been in there with Tim? Summer’s head pounded. Everything about this felt weird and wrong.

Except for the part where Tim held her and kissed her and told her that he wasn’t as lonely when she was around.

“Is he okay?” Georgey asked quietly. “He looked like hell.”

“I think so. He just needs to rest. I’m going to sleep out here on the couch tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

Georgey shrugged—typical teenage indifference.

She got the ice into the plastic grocery bag she’d borrowed from the childcare center. This way, it wouldn’t leak as badly.

She wanted to hate Tim because he made her sound so damned pitiful. No boyfriend, and her work friends were all off having wild summer adventures of their own—without her. And her mother? Summer didn’t even want to go there.

But she didn’t think she could hate him. Because instead of throwing it in her face like her mother would’ve done or laughing it off like some of the guys in college had when she’d tried to explain the loneliness she’d felt, Tim understood.

She’d never been an Indian. Or a Native American or a Lakota or any of those things, except for that one time she’d come out to the reservation and stayed with her father for that week.

And there’d always been something…missing. Something that bothered her in the back of her mind every time her mother got going on her father and all his failings. Then she hadn’t been all white, either. She’d been somewhere in between and, in all reality, in between was a pretty lonely place to be.

But it hadn’t been something she’d been able to name until Tim Means had said, We are all family. Until she’d come to this place and found her brother.

Her head buzzing, she headed back to the bedroom. Tim had laid out towels on the bed again and was sitting on it, looking beat. He’d changed into a loose-fitting pair of gym shorts and right now, he looked almost nothing like the stern sheriff who’d found her lost in the grasslands.

But as she approached him, he hefted himself to his feet and lifted his arms as best he could so that she could wrap him again.

“Summer…” he said in a low voice.

She cut him off before he could say something that would make everything more confusing. “It’s okay,” she told him again.

But she should’ve known by now that a man like Tim Means would not be deterred. When she moved around to the front of his chest, he put his hands on her shoulders and held her still. “I’m tired and I’m sore and I’m sorry what I said hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”

If it weren’t for the part about him being tired and sore, she’d like to know exactly what his intentions were. Really, what did he want with her? Or even with Georgey? Because if this was just going to be a brief summer fling, well—that would be okay, wouldn’t it?

But when a man stood in front of her and told her in all sincerity he was lonely and he’d miss her when she left, it didn’t sound like a fling. She didn’t know what, exactly, it sounded like—and that was the problem.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him, tucking the ends of the bandage in and making sure the ice was over his bruise. “You need more than three hours of sleep. If you get up before six in the morning…”

She didn’t actually have a threat she could make good on and he knew it. His lips quirked into a smile. “Yes?”

She swatted at his shoulder—the one on his good side. “You’ll wake me up,” she said in a dull voice.

“And nobody wants that,” he grinned.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, so she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. “We’ll talk more tomorrow—after you start feeling better.”

She had a feeling that, if he were in better condition, he’d argue with her. But as it was, he nodded once and let her back him up to the bed. He winced as he leaned back, then she checked again to make sure the ice was in the right position before pulling the sheet over him.

He caught one of her hands in his and brought it to his mouth, where he kissed her palm. “Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice, his eyes already shut.

She kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Within seconds, his chest was rising and falling in even breaths. Summer couldn’t help but notice he fell asleep with a smile on his face.