It’s a date? What does that mean?

That was the number one question on my mind over the next few days. And it didn’t help that I had to spend all my time with the very guy I was trying to ignore. Every time he ripped his sweat-drenched t-shirt off his toned chest and dropped it to the deck, I swear I lost a little more control.

If a sweaty, stinky, bossy version of Koa did this to me, what would a date do to me? Melt my clothes off?!

Let’s just say it would bad—really bad—because I was finding it more and more difficult to keep my crazy, lunatic, insane feelings for him in the lockbox where they belong. I didn’t need to get hot over my boss, a boss who drove me nuts up until a week ago. I didn’t need to get involved with a guy who sent my heart fluttering each time he looked at me a certain way.

I groan as I rinse off the last part of the deck, sending delicate, gossamer bubbles over the side into the harbor. What on God’s green earth is happening to me?

“Are you okay?” a deep voice asks behind me.

I spin around and meet a pair of worried eyes. Eyes that quickly go big and round.

“Summer!” he yells as I drench him with water. He’s soaked in a matter of seconds.

I scramble with the nozzle, my fingers thick and sluggish in my rubber gloves.

“Any day now,” Koa grumbles, staring at me.

Finally, I stop the flow of water. I fling the hose down on the deck and take a step back. Koa’s way too close for my lust-ladened mind, especially now that’s he all wet and glistening. “Oh my God, Koa. I’m so sorry.”

He looks down at his wet, gleaming chest and jeans and shoes before looking back at me. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

He nods slowly. “Really. I guess I snuck up on you.”

“Here, let me help you.” I reach out and drag the hem of my shirt down Koa’s rock-hard chest. I get about halfway to his…um…er…nether regions before I realize what I’m doing. And to whom.

My checks flush bright red as I snatch my hand back. Koa’s eyes remain on his chest for a moment before slowly meeting mine.

“Summer,” he begins, his voice tense and deep.

I bite my lip. “I—I can’t believe I just did that. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I must be tired,” I mumble, lowering my head. It doesn’t help, though. I can still feel those eyes on me.

“Oh, then I guess you wouldn’t want to… Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I look up. “Spit it out, Koa.”

“I was going to work on my boat tonight and thought you might want to, uh, help.”

“Really?”

“But you probably don’t want to,” he says quickly.

“No—”

“You’re tired and—”

“Koa!” I grab his arm and give him tug. “I’d love to.”

“Oh. Cool.” He stares at me for a moment, then heads for the helm.

“Where are you going?”

“Finish buttoning up the boat. Or have you forgotten that we have a job?”

I scowl at his back. I stop the minute he turns around. I swear he knows when I’m giving him dirty looks.

“Let Rusty know he can take ’em to be weighed.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I mutter under my breath as I turn and do as ordered. By the time I’m done, Koa’s heading back up the dock, bag and shirt slung over his shoulder.

“Ready?”

“Yup. Wanna give me directions?”

“Nah, I’ll drive ya.”

“No. That’s okay…”

Koa stops walking and looks at me. “Just let me drive you It’s too far to bike, and by the time you get there, you’ll be too shot to be any help.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Captain.”

Koa puts my bike in the bed and opens the door for me. “Thanks,” I murmur before climbing in. He nods, then strolls around to the driver’s side. I glue my eyes to the dash, trying not to stare at the very handsome shirtless man climbing in next to me.

“So,” I say, searching for a light topic to ease the tension, “about our date tomorrow—”

Nope, not a good start.

“What date?”

“Tomorrow’s fireworks?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I lost track of the days.”

I turn toward him, breaking my rule to maintain eye contact with the dash and only the dash. “Are you telling me you don’t have anything planned? You promised—”

“Christ, woman. Have a little faith.”

“Well, do you?”

A small smile gathers on his lips. “I’ve got plans…”

We turn off the main drag onto a small side street and start climbing as we head away from the water. “Why are you so worried about it, anyway? Think I’m going to drop the ball?”

“I wouldn’t blame you. You’ve got a lot on your mind this summer.” He gives me an odd look. “What?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. He turns back to the road and falls silent.

I frown. “I meant about the season.”

“Oh, right,” he says with a shake of his head. “It’s going fine, though.”

“No thanks to me, remember?”

“Ah, so you did hear that.”

“You bet your ass I did! And I’ll never let you forget it.”

He turns the wheel left and pulls onto a gravel road. “You know, I do have the mental capacity to plan, organize, and execute Fourth of July activities.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Panties?”

“Boxers, then?”

He looks at me.

“Briefs?”

An eyebrow shoots up.

“Uh, boxer-briefs?”

He tilts his head down in what I interpret as a nod. I sit back and grasp my knees with my hands. That’s an image my desire-fueled mind didn’t need. I wonder if his thighs are as toned and tanned as his—

Stop it!

I glance out the window as we pass an old Victorian house. It’s weathered and worn, and moss is growing on sections of the roof and wrap-around porch. Koa passes it by without a second glance, taking another gravel road down and to the right. I twist my head and study the home until it disappears around the curve. “What was that?”

“A house.”

I give Koa a disparaging look. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I meant who lives there.”

“My dad,” comes his answer a few seconds later.

“You grew up there?”

“Yup.”

I look around as we come up to a massive red barn. It’s the complete opposite of the rundown house in every possible way: the paint shines, the boards are straight and strong, the tin roof bright and glinting in the dying light. A string of windows fans out above the set of huge barn doors, hinting at a living space or apartment above the lofted space.

“Whoa,” I breathe. “You live here?”

“Yup.”

I turn to him. “Do you know any other words than ‘yup’ tonight?”

Koa smirks at me. “Yup. Do you want a tour?”

“Sure,” I grumble, climbing out of the truck and following him to the barn doors. He unlocks the heavy metal paddock, grasps one of the door handles, and tugs. I step around him and do the same to other side.

I suck in my breath as light bursts through the gap and illuminates the dark space. It’s a carpenter’s dream inside—tables, saws, workbenches, tools. A giant sailboat sits in the center of it all. Or what will be a sailboat. Right now it’s just a wooden frame.

I run around the space like a kid in a candy shop. “This is amazing.”

Koa watches me through veiled eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it.” I run my hand over the smooth wooden center beam. “I love the space and the smells and the feel. I love the…” I turn to him “…freedom.”

Koa joins me by the boat. “I know what you’re saying. That’s why I love it, too. I didn’t think anyone would get it. That’s why I’ve never brought anyone here.”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope.”

“No one?”

He laughs. “Bryce, now that I think about it.”

“Oh, right.”

“But never a…”

“What?”

He meets my eyes over the bow. “A woman.”

“Why not?” I ask, my pulse picking up.

“I always figured they’d never get it…or be interested.”

“Well, I get it. And although I have no idea what any of this does, I’m definitely interested.” I pick up a funny-looking hammer and wave it at him. “What does this do?”

Koa smirks at me. “It’s a hammer, Summer.”

“Duh. But what kind.”

“It’s an Estwing 22. You use it to frame.”

I put it down and move over to the next table. “And this?”

“Dovetail handsaw.”

“And this?” I ask, grabbing who knows what. “Is this just a hunk of metal?”

Koa shakes his head as he tries not to smile. “It’s a carpenter’s wedge. I use it to split wood.”

I set it back down and pick up another. “And this one?”

“A vise grip.”

“And this cool thingy?”

“A mitre clamp.”

“Right,” I say seriously. “Gotta have one of those meter clamps.”

“Mitre,” Koa corrects. Glad to see I’ve finally made him smile.

I head for the biggest table and grab a dangerous-looking saw. “And this?”

“Whoa now!” Koa steps forward and wraps his hand around mine. His fingers graze my knuckles as he takes the saw gently from my grasp, sending a shockwave up my arm and straight to my chest. “Careful…” he mutters, keeping his eyes on me as he places it back on the worktable. “I would never forgive myself if you got hurt.”

I turn away from his heavy gaze and gravelly voice. My imagination goes wild as I picture him pushing me over the side of one of these tables as he takes me in his arms.

Girl, take a breath. But come on! Koa is not helping with Operation Keep It In Your Pants.

“Summer, where are you going?”

I stop and look around. I wasn’t even aware I was backing up toward the door. But you know? Maybe my mind knows what’s best right now.

I clutch my head. “Phew! I’ve had a long day and maybe I’m more tired than I thought. I, uh, should get some rest.”

Koa steps toward me, his eyes growing worried. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me! But I should probably go home.” I glance toward the doors. Why are they so far away?

I turn back to Koa. Um, is he closer? “Right now.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No! I mean, I’ll just ride.”

“But if you’re tired…”

“It’s okay. I need the exercise.”

Need the exercise? That the most unbelievable excuse I’ve ever heard. I just spent all day working my ass off on a boat for Christ's sake.

Koa frowns, probably thinking the exact same thing. “Alright, but please be careful.”

I nod and start for the truck. Only a few more steps and I’ll be—

“I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow?” he calls out.

I jerk around. “What?”

“Six o’clock. For our date?”

That gets me moving. “Oh, right,” I say, backing up until I hit the side of the truck. I turn around and climb up onto the bed where my bike is. “You mean our Fourth of July plans.”

I crouch down and start fumbling with my bike. I get it halfway over the side before it tumbles back. It lands on the bed of the truck with a loud thud. “Sorry!”

Koa shakes his head and starts toward me. I watch his approaching form with a mixture of hope and dread. My treacherous body wants one thing, while my rational side argues for another, safer route.

But instead of sweeping me off my feet and into his brawny arms (thank you, Body, for that enticing fantasy), Koa reaches out, opens the tailgate, and slides out my bike like it’s made of air.

“Oh. Thanks.” I walk to the edge of the bed and crouch down, but before I can jump, Koa reaches up and grasps my waist. I catch my breath as he swings me through the air, my feet lightly touching the ground a second later. He holds me like that for a just moment, his face tilted down, his soft, warm breath on my face, before releasing me.

I take a quick step back and swallow. “Well, I’ll just be—”

“I meant what I said,” he says in a low voice.

“About what?”

Koa rakes his gaze over my face, and then turns on his heel and strides back toward the barn. “See you at six.”

Whoa, what?

“Wait, maybe we should reschedule?”

He shakes his head and turns, locking me in his crosshairs. “No way. I’m gonna show you the best Fourth of July of your life, Summer.”