We parked underneath an oak tree beside Lake Mitchell. One of those cliché lake trees with a tire swing hung from its branches. The interior light buzzed to life when Noah threw his door open, smiling. Bad boys really shouldn’t have dimples—it makes it all the harder to not let them break your heart in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could have theirs.

Noah opened my door and pulled me from the truck. The spicy, redwood scent of his cologne caught in the warm breeze whipping through my hair.

The hum of the cicadas echoed from the lake almost in rhythm with the slosh of the water hitting the banks. “Where are we—”

“Shh,” he whispered in my ear, the heat of his breath blowing through my hair before his hand grabbed mine and led me into the dark.

In Rockford, the night wasn’t just dark, it was what we called country dark. No streetlights, no glow from a nearby city. There was peace in that. Sometimes peace comes from the simplest things we often take for granted. The cicadas, the muggy heat. The dark.

We followed the dirt path that led between a house and the woods until we stepped onto a rickety pier with a little dingy tied to the end. The worn boards creaked under our weight, and for some reason, it sent a rush whizzing through me.

We stopped at the edge, and he squeezed my hand. “Go on, get in.”

“Noah…”

He grinned and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I gave into him. He helped me into the boat before hopping in behind me. Water splashed up from the bow and he tripped over the bench seat, throwing his arms out to keep his balance. The boat rocked from side to side and I grabbed onto each side of the boat like that would keep it from dumping over. Laughing, he untied the boat, grabbed a choke chain and pulled. The small engine whirred to life. And then, we were off, gliding over the black water.

The cool breeze from the lake swirled around me, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the brackish smell of the water. When the motor cut off, we were plunged into silence and I opened my eyes. Puffy clouds drifted across the moon, casting us in a sudden, deep darkness before bathing the water in a pale, silver light.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That you’re crazy.” I focused my eyes on him.

He laughed before moving across the small boat to take a seat next to me. “I love the serenity.”

I tapped the side of the boat. “Let me guess, this isn’t your boat, is it?”

“Hell no.” He smiled.

I rolled my eyes. “So you steal people’s boats?”

“Borrow is a more appropriate term.”

“Fine. Borrow…and why?”

“I told you, I love the serenity.” There was so much more to that boy than he ever let on.

“So tell me, Noah Greyson, a guy who loves serenity, why do you have such a bad reputation?”

“Well, I already told you I was the bastard child whose parents didn’t want him.”

“That does not a bad boy make.” I laughed.

“Alright, Shakespeare… I used to steal stuff. Got expelled from school.” Studying me, he inched closer. “And I tend to break girl’s hearts,” he whispered.

A small heat crept over my face. “Maybe they shouldn’t have given their hearts to you then.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I break everything I touch, Hannah Blake.” He traced a finger over my arm. The warmth of his touch created an unwarranted form of peace. “I’m no good for you,” he whispered so close to my lips I could almost taste him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please, don’t make me prove it to you,” he said, straddling the bench seat. Slowly, he wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned back, dragging me with him.

Maybe I should have said something, maybe I should have sat up, but I didn’t. I rested against him, and it felt easy. It felt right. Noah Greyson let me melt into him. “You smell nice.” The stubble on his jaw tickled my face when he pressed his cheek against mine.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “So do you.” I felt him smile against my neck and my heart went crazy, hammering against my ribs like a caged hummingbird.

He shifted behind me, and before I realized it, I was, lying on Noah Greyson’s chest in the middle of a lake, staring up at the stars. My moment of peace in a tumultuous world.

“Why are you here, Hannah?” he breathed against my neck. “Is it that you think I need saving? Is it a fuck you to your daddy?”

The way he said fuck did something to me, made me feel wild or free or like he wasn’t afraid to break me—I’m not sure exactly what, but it made me feel something. I swallowed. “Because I like being around you.” He nuzzled his face against my neck and I trailed my fingers over his arm. “What about you? Do you want to taint the preacher’s innocent daughter? Do you need saving? Or—”

“No.” He sat me up and turned me to face him. “I saw you three Sundays ago. You walked in late to church wearing a black dress.” He was at my church? “You looked sad as shit, and I haven’t been able to get you outta my mind since then.”

“So… because I looked sad?”

He nodded, inching in until his lips were barely a breath from mine. “I wanted to see if I could make you smile.” He swept a piece of hair behind my ear, leaving a trail of heat where his fingers had skimmed my neck. I could hear my pulse in my ears. God, I wanted to kiss him, but I was terrified. Because I was pretty sure knowing what his lips felt like against mine would be a lethal dose of a drug I didn’t need, but still, I closed my eyes.

“Damn,” he breathed against my mouth. “You’re gonna hate me before this is all over.”

“Hey!” A man’s voice echoed across the lake before a bright spotlight shined on us. “Hey, what’cha doin’ in my boat?”

Shit! Noah straightened up.

“Imma call the cops!” the man shouted, still shining the light on us.

“Oh, please no,” I groaned. Daddy would have died—the preacher’s daughter going to jail with the boy he hired to help around the farm. The guy her best friend warned her about…

“Wait,” Noah’s shouted. “This is your boat?”

“That’s what I said, boy.”

“Twenty-three Lake View?”

“No, I’m twenty-eight Lake View.”

“Well, hell,” Noah laughed, a mischievous grin curling his lips. “I’m sorry, this guy I work with, Trevor Davis, he said I could borrow his boat.” Noah turned toward the bank, shielding his eyes from the bright light. The man dropped the spotlight to his side. “I’m real sorry about the mix-up,” Noah said, leaning over to grab the motor. “I’ll bring it right back over to you.”

“Well.” The man shifted on his feet before walking to the edge of the pier. “The eight is a little faded, I could see how you’d make the mistake.”

Noah shot a knowing glance at me, his smile deepening. “I’m not gonna let you get in trouble,” he whispered.

God, he was too good at that.