Chapter Five

“Heartbreak. Now there’s one that I wish I could spare you.” Mom’s brow furrows and she looks down at her hands as they rub together. “I still think of the time when you were little and we were walking along the road together. You were holding on to your stroller and walking beside it, instead of riding, and we were moving so slowly. When we came across a dead squirrel, you asked me why he was lying so still.”

I laugh. “Without hesitating you told me, ‘He’s sleeping.’”

“I thought the concept of death was too sad for a toddler,” Mom says. “But when I told you he was sleeping, your response was, ‘That’s funny. He looks dead.’”

She laughs and goes on to talk about the way my matter-of-fact approach will serve me well in life. “Death is real,” she says, but I can’t help thinking she’s always had me figured wrong. Calling her out on her denial of the obviously squished squirrel was just my way of trying to get her to tell the truth, to admit she’d fibbed.

Parents should never lie to their children.

Now she says, “No matter how hard our hearts are, they are all broken eventually by someone.”

I don’t react. I am a rock, sitting completely still. Rory stone.

I barely blink as she segues smoothly from heartbreak to the topic of sex. “It’s important that you ask yourself if you’re really ready. You should never feel pressured into it. Sex is best when it is experienced with someone you truly love and you only have one first time. Spend it wisely. It should be with someone really special who treats you well.” She repeats, “You only have one first time.”

After a pause, she confesses that Dad wasn’t her first, and I feel a wave of satisfaction at that. When a tear rolls down her cheek, I reach out but stop myself before touching her smooth face. She smiles and wipes the tear herself while shaking her head. “I was crazy about him.”

As Mom describes her first wild love affair, I try to imagine what she was like when she was young. Before she was my mother.

I have a picture of her when she was about my age in a frame on my dresser, and it shows her sitting on a bench in Central Park with a sunbeam illuminating her smile. She’s a beautiful stranger in that photo. Someone who looks a lot like me. Somebody I can never know. A young woman glowing with a freedom and happiness that, for some reason, makes me immensely sad every time I look at that photo.

I’ve never seen my mother smile that purely in real life.

I need to figure out a way to protect some part of that glowing girl who’s long gone.

Dad needs to be confronted head-on. He’s still out, so I end the conversation with Mom early and sneak into his office, which is technically just a computer table in a corner of our den. I need to figure out when he’s meeting his mistress. This all has to end now.

Since dad always uses RoryGrrl1 as his password, it’s a snap to jump onto his calendar. Technically, what I’m doing can’t even be considered hacking, since he knows that I know the password to all his stuff.

Still, I’d rather avoid a confrontation at this point. Better to save the real screaming for after I have hard-core proof of his philandering ways.

A quick scan of his past few months reveals nothing other than the fact that, here and there, he’s apparently been attending church. I’m upset by this for some reason.

Not that I’d jump at an invitation to church, but Dad never even mentioned he was going, and it takes me a moment to shake off feeling excluded.

I take a closer look at this month’s calendar. There’s nothing obviously out of place at first glance.

Then I notice the semicolons scattered here and there, sometimes as many as three in one week.

I think of the way I create events that contain only a period to track my monthly cycle and know immediately that I’ve broken his code.

Sure enough, there’s a mark in the time slot from when he butt-dialed me while on his date. I cringe at that remembered half conversation and scan for more clues to bust him.

Unfortunately, he must write down where he’s meeting his mistress in a different, secret calendar. Either that or he just keeps it stored in his head. He’s extremely “trust averse,” so that’s probably his method.

I’m so frustrated, I want to fling the computer against the wall. I want to run into the other room and scream for Mom to see what’s happening right now, but I can’t even come up with actual evidence to catch the bastard.

I should’ve thought to hit Record on that message.

The next semicolon is just a few days away, but unless I manage to follow him without his knowing, an utter impossibility due to his stupid intuition, Dad is going to continue getting away with this.

When he comes home, he’s carrying a big sack of Chinese takeout as some sort of bribe or peace offering or way of sucking me back in.

I tell him I already ate and that I have to get started on my summer assignments. I do have summer assignments; I’m just not really doing anything about them.

Grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry, I storm upstairs, telling myself that I just need to have patience. Because if there’s one thing I trust absolutely, it’s that the truth will always come out eventually.

• • •

It’s overcast and so the beach is empty as Scott and I sit on our lifeguard bench exchanging hiking stories.

I’m rubbing on a layer of sunblock, since I got sunburned the last time it was overcast, and he’s telling me about the bear he saw when he first started working here at the park.

“I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “When I came around the bend, there was this huge, black, furry thing. It took me a minute to realize it wasn’t a giant dog.”

“What did you do?”

“I was actually reaching for my phone to take a picture, and the bear stopped walking, turned, and looked directly at me.”

“Did you get a picture?”

Scott’s eyes follow my hands as I rub lotion onto my leg. “Hell no. I got busy trying to scope out a tree that would be easy for me to climb.”

“Wait,” I say. “Climbing trees is how you escape grizzlies. Black bears are really good tree climbers.” We only have black bears here in the Northeast.

“Yes, I know. But I was totally new to the woods, and my mind just went blank with terror. I knew enough to look around for cubs, but couldn’t remember if I was supposed to run or stand my ground or hold my arms up to look bigger.”

“Please tell me you didn’t start running.” I slide both hands up and down my thigh, partially to avoid streaks, but mostly just to mess with him.

He watches me openly for a moment before shaking his head and looking out toward the lake. “No, I instinctively backed away real slow, and he lost interest and walked off into the woods.”

“Yeah, they usually don’t mess with humans.”

“I know that now, but wow was I ever amped-up for the rest of that day.”

“Now do you wear a bell when you check the trails?” One of Scott’s jobs is to hike the trails to make sure there aren’t any fallen trees blocking the various paths.

“Nah.” Scott dismisses me with a wave. “Rattlesnakes are the bigger danger out there.”

“That’s true.” I put the lid on my lotion and shove it back into my bag.

He says, “But I do carry bear spray.”

I roll my eyes. “Because being armed is somehow better than trying to avoid conflict in the first place. I’m getting you a bell. You’ll never have to worry again.”

“Oh, hey,” Scott says. “I’ve been meaning to ask how things turned out with the sarge?” At my confused look, he goes on. “The other day? When he butt-dialed you?”

“Oh, yeah. That situation is all shades of fucked up.” I jump down from the bench, pick up a handful of stones, and pull out the flattest ones I can find.

“Are you okay?” he asks from above me.

“I’ve been checking his calendar”—*Toss.* Skip-skip-splash!—“trying to catch him in the act.” *Toss.* Skip-skip-skip-splash! “I figured out how he marks the times he meets his mistress”—*Toss.* Skip-skip-splash!—“but I have no idea how to track down a location.” *Toss.* Skip-skip-skip-skip-splash!

“Have you considered shadowing him?” Scott asks.

“I really don’t want to resort to that. He has this weird sixth sense and would definitely bust me.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice rings out, and with an involuntary startle, I throw in the rest of my rocks. Splash-splash-splash-splash-splash!

I spin around and see Hayes strolling across the rocky beach toward me. “No need to shadow me, Rory. I’m right here.”

“Because of course you are.” I wipe my hands on the butt of my suit and leap back up to the lifeguard bench beside Scott.

Hayes stands directly in front of us and reaches a hand up toward Scott. “Name’s Hayes. Friend of Rory’s.”

Scott looks Hayes up and down as if he’s just been challenged to a pissing contest but leans down and gives his hand a quick shake.

“You do realize that telling everyone that doesn’t make it true.” I turn to Scott. “We’re not really friends.”

“See, now, that’s just hurtful.” Hayes looks at Scott. “Is she always so hurtful?”

Scott twirls his whistle, winding the string up his two fingers. “Yeah, she’s a real heartbreaker, all right.” He squints out over the lake and hunches down in his seat.

“Just ignore him.” I pretend to scan the smooth water.

Hayes says, “Why? He seems like a perfectly nice guy.”

“Not him,” I spit. “You. We’re ignoring you. Trying to work here.”

Hayes turns and looks around. “You’re guarding an empty lake?”

Scott looks down, but I elbow him and nod for him to continue looking off into the middle distance.

I’m half-messing with Hayes and half-avoiding that growing zing of desire that makes me feel out of control whenever I’m around him.

Zero eye contact with Hayes means zero zinging.

The three of us stay like that in silence for a time until I hear the distinct sound of a fly unzipping. “Hey, you can’t—”

Hayes draws his shorts down seductively.

“Oh,” I say when I see he’s wearing colorful swim trunks underneath. Okay, so maybe eye contact isn’t really necessary for me to feel the zing.

“Disappointed?” He grins up at me.

“I’m sure you’re used to girls being disappointed when you unzip your shorts.” I laugh at my own joke but swallow when he puts his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow.

He looks more amused than flustered. “Good one,” he mocks, looking fully confident, and there’s that zinging sensation again. What the hell is it about this guy?

I look away, refusing to give Hayes any of my attention. As he goes from clearing his throat to waving his arms and pretending to do a barefoot tap dance, it gets harder to ignore him.

Finally, he starts humming the opening theme song to an old Disney TV show that everyone in our age bracket watched ad nauseam when we were kids. Hayes gets louder and louder until he’s singing at the top of his lungs.

After a few minutes of this nonsense, Scott starts humming along.

I thrust an elbow into his ribs.

“Ouch.” Scott stops humming and lets his whistle fall and dangle from his hand.

I go back to ignoring Hayes, finally digging out my phone and scrolling through some pictures Kat sent me from the store this morning. Apparently, things are a little slow at Danny’s, and she’s kept herself busy by taking selfies while wearing a series of rainbow mustaches from our toy and novelty section.

I’m responding that the purple porn ’stache is my favorite when I hear footsteps thundering along the floating metal dock that juts out into the lake. I immediately drop my phone just in time to see Hayes do a perfect somersault off the deep end of the dock.

SPLASH! I’d be impressed by his form if diving off the dock wasn’t against the rules.

“No flips off the dock,” Scott calls at him the second Hayes surfaces.

In response, Hayes waves his arms, splashing wildly.

I look at Scott and roll my eyes, but we both stand as Hayes ducks underneath the floating ropes.

When he pops up just outside the designated swim area, Scott blasts his whistle. “Inside the ropes, buddy!” he calls.

Hayes dives down, kicking his feet and swimming deep enough for Scott and I to shift from annoyed to alert. I grab the orange life buoy from where it hangs on the back of the chair and glance at Scott just as Hayes finally resurfaces.

He’s holding up a handful of black pebbles from the bottom of the lake. He lets them roll through his fingers as he continues treading water just outside the ropes.

“Come on, Hayes,” I call. “Stop being a dick.”

Out in the water, he spreads his arms wide, leans back, and begins to float on his back with his eyes closed.

“I know you can hear me.” With a surge of rage, I hop down and throw the long strap of the orange life buoy across one shoulder as I rocket down the dock.

“Rory,” Scott calls after me, “what are you doing? Obviously the guy can swim.”

Hayes’s head snaps up from the water, and when he sees me sprinting toward him, a welcoming smile spreads across his face.

I make a perfect dive off the dock into the deep section, letting the buoy drop behind me into the water like it’s my floating orange puppy on a leash.

I swim the breaststroke over to Hayes with the buoy chasing me the whole way.

When I get close enough, Hayes reaches for me, and I grab his wrist, expertly swinging him around so his arm is tucked behind his back. It’s a rescue technique we learned in training, for when drowning victims panic and try to pull us underwater.

With a laugh, Hayes tries to wiggle free. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, but I reach around with my other arm and gather his neck neatly into the bend of my elbow.

With a pull on my buoy leash, I call my puppy to me and position the orange flotation device underneath my free arm.

With Hayes in a secure headlock, I use my hip to push his body toward the surface as I begin towing him to shore. The water is cold from the rain we had overnight, and his body is pure heat against mine. His warm hands wrap around my arms and I tighten my grip.

“Okay, Rory. I’m really sorry.” He tries to wiggle free. “I’m good now.”

I’ve done plenty of training exercises for this exact scenario, and so I know just how to hang on to him. Then again, I suspect he might not be trying all that hard to get free.

Eventually, he just goes completely limp. “This is sort of nice,” he says as I pull his heavy body into the shallow water.

Half carrying him on my back, I drag him from the lake.

Once we hit dry land, I thrust him off my shoulder, shoving him roughly to the pebbled beach. He falls back on his elbows, lying face up and aiming his bent grin in my direction. “Amazing.”

“Stay out of the water if you can’t listen to instructions.” I squeeze my dreadlocks out onto his chest and fling the excess water in his face with both hands.

He laughs, and when he reaches up to wipe the water from his face, my eyes fall to his shirtless chest.

I pull my gaze away before he can bust me.

Bending over with my hands on my knees, I work on catching my breath. I’m seriously winded, mostly due to the rescue exercise.

“Excuse me, lifeguard?” Hayes lies back down. “I think I could use a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” He taps a finger to his lower lip.

Pausing a beat, I allow an evil grin to spread across my face and drop to my knees beside him. He looks up at me with a joking smile, but as he watches my face draw closer, his expression turns serious.

I ignore Scott clearing his throat from the lifeguard chair behind me. My breath is still heavy as I lean over and whisper, “You need a little air, Hayes?”

He nods while looking at my lips. His jaw juts forward, and I ignore the zing I feel as he wraps his hands around my back and—

“Psyche!” I whip away from him, slapping him with my thick, wet hair. I stand and take a few steps backward, leaving him lying like a turtle on its back.

In one smooth motion, I turn and pull myself up to the lifeguard bench where Scott is waiting to give me a tidy high five.

Hayes is still lying on the beach as Scott stands up on the lifeguard bench and calls, “That’s the way we handle rule breakers around here.”

“Speaking of rule breakers…” Hayes gives me a knowing wink and I look back and forth between him and Scott.

I widen my eyes and mouth the word no to Hayes. The last thing I need is to have two guys blackmailing me.

Besides, knowing Scott, if he found out I’m the graffiti artist right now, he’d probably run directly to tell my dad.

He’d say it was because he was worried about me, but really he’d be looking for an in with the DEC. Working with the Department of Environmental Conservation is Scott’s dream, and unfortunately, getting on my dad’s good side would have to mean throwing me under the bus.

Scott and I are friendly, but we’re not exactly friends.

“So, Rory.” Hayes mouths a roar and mimes clawing the air like a big cat. “What time are you done saving lives?”

Scott crosses his arms. “Take a hike, buddy. Rory’s not interested.”

Hayes raises his eyebrows at me, and I flash him two fingers against my arm. Scott can’t see me mouth, Two o’clock.

I nod my head toward the path that leads away from the lake, and Hayes does a fantastic job of playing it cool. Scott has no idea.

Hayes picks up his shirt and uses it to wipe his face before tucking it behind his head and lying back down. Closing his eyes, Hayes acts as if the sun is shining on his bare skin, despite the overcast day and his obvious goose bumps.

I’m working to forget the warmth of that body against mine as I “rescued” him.

His expression is peaceful until his gaze jumps suddenly and he catches me watching him.

*Zing.* Damn!

With a satisfied grin, he makes his biceps flex as he lays his head back down.

I stop violating him with my mind as I hear a group of people speaking over each other in Chinese approaching. We get a ton of international visitors here at the park, which is one of the many things I love about this place.

As the multigenerational group quickly moves onto the beach, Hayes stands up and makes his way to where his backpack is parked by the edge of the trees.

After spending an inordinate amount of time combing back his hair, he pulls out his new sketchbook and pencils and starts to draw. I’m practically clawing the wooden lifeguard bench wanting to see his work.

But a glance at Scott tells me he’s already suspicious.

I need to play this ultrasmooth.

Problem is, I’m getting sick of playing. What the hell am I so afraid of, anyway? Hayes is just another guy. And he’s not even from around here.

A hookup with him would have zero consequences.

I need to make sure I stay in control, but that doesn’t mean I can’t risk making a move.

I come to a clear decision.

As soon as I get Hayes alone, I’m following that zing to see where it leads.

• • •

The hours fly by as the lake fills up with groups of swimmers and empties twice. I’m focused on the people in the water and purposely not checking on what Hayes is doing, letting my anticipation build.

But the water is basically empty right now, with only a middle-aged couple talking as they stand beside each other in the shallow end. I glance back and catch Hayes tearing a page from his sketchbook and handing it to a little girl. I can’t see what he’s drawn for her, only the delight on her face as she runs to show her mother.

He glances over and smiles when he catches me watching him. I don’t smile back, but I don’t look away either. His smile fades, and the look of intensity that replaces it makes my stomach dip.

He can feel it, I’m sure. The craving. I bite my lip and turn back around as the waiting grows into exquisite agony.

When my shift is finally over, I greet the older male lifeguards replacing Scott and me and tell Scott to enjoy his days off.

He asks if I’d like to “hang out or something” tomorrow, and I can’t stop my eyes from skipping to Hayes.

Scott says, “Oh, I mean, unless you have plans,” and I wonder what made him decide to ask me out now. It’s probably because I’ve been half-smiling all day, instead of sporting my usual resting bitch face.

I’ve been picturing myself getting blissfully physical with Hayes, and I can already tell things will be good between us.

“You know I don’t mix work and pleasure, Scott.”

This is, of course, a lie. Pleasure goes just fine with everything, including work. I am all about pleasure, but there’s no need to make Scott feel rejected just because I’m in the process of rejecting him.

I make my way up the path to the row of rustic bathrooms, pull open one of the heavy doors, and use the warped mirror to check my flushed face as I rifle in my bag for my freshen-up kit.

I brush my teeth and take a quick sink shower, drawing out the suspense. When I emerge, Hayes is waiting for me with his backpack on his shoulder and a sly grin on his face.

“How was work, dear?” he says.

In response, I turn and wordlessly lead the way down the long, twisted path toward my cabin.

There’s no need to engage in playful banter now. The time for verbal foreplay is over, and the long hike is infused with an eagerness that I know he feels too.

Anticipation continues to build, and I widen my stride as we get closer and closer. By the time we reach my cabin’s door, I’m practically jogging, but Hayes is still right at my heels.

As soon as we’re inside, with the door closed, I turn and draw both of my hands through either side of his dark, slicked-back hair. His waves have dried by now, but they’re surprisingly soft with the gel washed out.

His look of wonder only lasts a moment. Narrowing his gaze, he tips his head forward, pushes a dreadlock away from my ear, and whispers, “Told you I’d win you over.”

I smile. “Pure games, Hayes. I’m the one in control here.”

“Oh, we’ll just see about that.”

I hesitate a moment. I want this too much. I should wait for him to make the first move.

I pull back and look into his eyes, showing how much willpower I have. Just because his eyes go so deep they’re giving me vertigo doesn’t mean I can’t control myself.

I am in control.

He gives me a knowing grin without breaking his gaze. We are in a standoff.

I have absolute and complete control.

He licks his lips and…

I lose control.

Rising onto my toes so we’re the same height, I tilt my chin upward and use my fingertips to guide his face toward mine. I pause for one delicious beat before brushing my lips ever so gently against his.

He responds immediately, pressing against me, drawing me up and into a kiss with the perfect amount of pressure. We are both really good kissers.

I stop thinking about control and allow myself to drop into a puddle of sensations. I’m aware of every muscle shift, each breath.

As our kiss grows deeper, the zing is expanding inside me, growing wider and moving further.

I want it to keep going.

I can’t tell who’s guiding who as we expertly make our way across the room to the art table standing against the far wall. We don’t break our kiss, and my fingers reach out for the flat surface covered in layers of dried paint.

We bump against it, and there’s a moment of awkward struggle as I attempt to bend him back over the table. He stays upright, trying to keep the top position.

I’ve never brought a boy back to my cabin before, and now this boy is trying to take charge.

Finally, I relent, and he turns us and lowers me slowly down onto the table. It’s vaguely thrilling, and I try to hide how heavy my breath is getting.

Enjoying our encounter is one thing, but it’s dangerous to get this excited. This isn’t an escape right now. I’m fully present and with Hayes, and my blood is flowing too fast, and my head won’t let me go anyplace else right now. I can’t disappear.

My lions aren’t going to sleep. They are here, and I am being torn open with all that I’m feeling. I’m too vulnerable and exposed.

With a panicked grunt, I place both palms on Hayes’s chest as we continue kissing. After a pause, I give a light shove and he leaps off me.

As he backs away, I see he’s flushed and breathing just as hard as I am.

“Holy hell.” His voice is rough. “You have some serious self-control.”

“Told you I was in charge,” I say breathlessly, even as I resist the urge to grab him around the neck and drag him back on top of me.

“Well, I’m glad you keep a level head.” He takes a half step back, puts his hands on both knees, and leans over, like he’s catching his breath after a sprint. “My sponsor says I can’t get into a relationship right now.”

Now this is good news. The stakes just dropped down a notch.

I point my foot and run it seductively up his leg. “Who said anything about a relationship?”

He laughs and shifts out of my toes’ range. “Listen. I’m serious. We can’t take things to the next level until I’ve worked through some issues. Otherwise, my recovery could be stunted by our relationship.”

“You keep using this word: relationship,” I tease. “I’m unfamiliar with this word.”

“I’m trying to take my sobriety seriously.” He drags a hand through his hair, trying to slick down the edges I’ve messed up. “I told my sponsor, Roger, about hanging out with you, and he already said it was inadvisable. At least until after I finish my ninth step.”

I sit up straight. “Did you tell him about my lions?”

Hayes shakes his head. “Of course not. He’d never let me see you if he knew you were a criminal.”

“I’m not a…total criminal. And, anyway, who is this Roger guy, and why does he get to have a say in what we do together?”

“He’s my sponsor.” Hayes moves to sit next to me on the table, our thighs touching, so now that’s where all my focus is aimed. “Kind of like a sobriety guru.” He laughs at my eye roll. “He’s a guy who has been through the steps himself and who wants to help me get my life in order.”

“Including your sex life.” I fling my leg seductively over his.

“Especially stuff like sex since that’s one of the things that would send me down a path to trouble in the past.” Hayes subtly strokes my leg, driving me wild as he goes on. “Conflicting expectations. Different opinions on what physical intimacy signifies. Basically just a lot of trouble I’m better off without right now.”

I smile and run a finger lightly down his neck. “Well, I won’t be any trouble at all, trust me.”

“Trust me. You already are trouble.” With a gentle touch, he lifts my chin so I’m looking directly at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that shade of gray before,” he says. “It’s as if your irises are in black and white and the rest of you is in color.”

I look down at my hands. “I have my mother’s eyes.”

“Well, they’re amazing, but they’re really sad too. That’s the other reason we can’t get involved. I feel like you have some things you need to work through yourself.” He forces me to look at him again. “Rory, why do you paint such angry lions? I really want to understand whatever you’re going through.”

“I’m great. You’re the one here who’s not even allowed to hook up without a permission note from some alcoholic voodoo man.”

“Maybe I’m not looking to just hook up.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve stopped stalking me sooner then. If you’re not interested in us hooking up, why are you even here?”

He looks around the small cabin for the first time. “What is this place, anyway? Your painting studio?”

I move to a corner and pull a tarp over a crowd of spray paint cans dripping with assorted colors. My adrenaline is all jammed up from the implied promise of physical release, and it’s making me cranky. I want Hayes to go now.

“Wait a minute.” His eyes grow wide and he looks around with fresh wonder. “This is your lair, isn’t it? This is where you plan all your new graffiti hits?”

Drat. Before I can stop him, he’s reached down and picked up a giant cardboard piece of stencil. It’s a portion of the left haunch of my larger-than-life water tower lion.

“What is this thing for?” His eyes snap to mine with understanding.

I look away. “It’s just a little something I’ve been working on.”

He picks up another section, and I can see him trying to piece together just how big the finished lion will be. “Where the hell is this thing going?” His brow creases. “Are you planning on spray-painting the side of the moon?”

I shrug.

“Rory?”

“Just the water tower. I want to cover up that awful Sparkle Soda ad. This lion is a way to reclaim our public space.”

“Wha—? Okay. So that’s ambitious. Clearly, this is a cry for attention.”

“It’s not about getting attention. I’m not planning on getting caught, so nobody will ever even know it’s me.”

“Well, then, who the hell is helping you?”

“Well, that’s sort of the thing…”

He drops the stencil he’s holding and it floats smoothly to the ground.

“So, you, what? Brought me here to seduce me into being your accomplice?”

“No. That’s not it at all.” My mind races. “It’s insulting that you’d even think that.” And why didn’t I think of that?

“So then who’s helping you? You said I’m the only one who even knows you’re the artist.”

“I haven’t worked out every little detail, but I’m sure things will come together.” I move over to the pile of stencils on the floor and begin straightening up the stack.

Hayes puts his hands on his hips as he watches me. “You are aware that spray-painting is a crime, right?”

“Don’t worry about it. This doesn’t involve you.”

“What would make you even attempt something this crazy?”

I won’t look at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

With a sigh, he leans down and helps me straighten up the rest of the stencils.

After we’ve finished, we find ourselves sitting on the floor, facing each other.

My emotions are a soupy mixture of wanting to kiss him again and wanting him to leave so I can be alone.

He’s watching me so closely I feel heat working its way up my neck. I am not the type to overheat. It’s as if he’s even controlling my temperature gauge.

I break eye contact, pretending to study my paint supplies.

“I don’t like ignoring my sponsor’s advice, you know,” Hayes finally says. “Roger has some solid wisdom, and he’s helped me in a lot of areas. Without even asking him, I’m positive he would be against me helping you.”

“I told you to forget it. And you should probably forget all about this cabin and me too.” I stand up. “Let’s both do the right thing here.”

Hayes smirks and shakes his head. “How is it that you make doing the right thing sound so damn horrible?”

I give a small smile as I reach down and pull him to his feet.

We stand looking at each other and I wonder if he’s feeling an ounce of the physical pull that I feel right now.

Finally, he says, “You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

This statement would normally make me laugh and possibly give the guy a tackle hug, but Hayes isn’t just any guy.

“Don’t worry.” I lean forward. “I’m only trouble if you cross me.”

He takes a step closer. “And I’m only trouble when I’m drinking or getting high. But then I’m really big trouble.”

“I suppose the lines are drawn, then. I’m not looking to get you drunk, and you can be my own private secret keeper.”

“Go get a diary to keep your secrets.” He smiles. “What you need is a partner in crime.”

I stare at him. “Are you really considering maybe helping me? I promise you I’ll take the fall if anything goes down.”

His eyes sweep around the cabin and land back on me. With a glance up and down my height, Hayes roughs up the front of his hair. He’s given up on it staying slicked back.

“I’m going to need to think about it,” he says. “Can I finally get your cell number?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Won’t that take all the fun out of stalking me?”

He gives me a face that says, Come on, and I relent. Grabbing a Sharpie from a messy pile of supplies on the floor, I gesture for him to give me his hand.

Thrusting out his upturned fist, he squeezes it so tightly all his arm muscles are flexed. I pull his wrist toward me and write my number along his forearm, ending with a quick sketch of a lion that makes him smile.

“I could’ve just put you in my phone.”

“I’d rather be on your arm.” I try to keep the flirtatious lilt out of my voice, but it’s there.

He gives a ragged sigh. “I’d better go call my sponsor.” He grabs his bag and pauses in front of me. With a deep breath, he leans down and gives me the briefest kiss at the very outermost corner of my lips.

Before I can even decide whether or not to turn my head and kiss him back, he tells me bye, and he’s out the door.

I stand nailed to the spot where he left me and absently touch my fingertips to my raw lips as I ask myself, What the hell just happened?