I don’t know where I expected us to end up, but the edge of a public park, sitting on the tailgate of his truck and eating takeout burritos was not it.

“Told you these were good,” Boone mumbled through a mouthful.

“Of course, at ninety-five cents apiece, you have to wonder what’s in them,” I pointed out.

“True.” He finished his and wiped his hands on a paper towel. “Still, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Beggars. I bit my lip and put my burrito aside. There was so much I wanted to know about him. About his life when he wasn’t driving around rescuing me. “Were you still at work when I called?”

“I was at your next-door neighbors’ house,” he replied. He was in yet another white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Or maybe they were the same ones, freshly cleaned.

“Aren’t they done with their roof repair yet?” I joked.

He looked out over the park and shrugged. “There’s a lot to do over there.”

Well, that was good. At least it would give Boone a steady income. Plus, he had whatever boat job had sent him to the yacht club.

“Do you know them well?” he asked me now. “The Gardners?”

“Not really,” I said, hugging my knees to my chest. The full skirt of my dress pooled around my ankles. It was still plenty warm outside, but now that night had fallen, there was a cool breeze coming over the empty playing fields and courts. I didn’t even have a cardigan. “They moved here while I was in Europe. My mom talks to Mrs. Gardner at the gym or something sometimes. Seems to like her. Why, are they awful bosses?”

“No,” Boone said. “I was just wondering.”

The slats of the tailgate were digging into my butt and I shifted on the seat. “I don’t think you ever know anyone in my neighborhood, really. It’s like everyone there is in the same show, and they’re all doing the same choreography under the lights and it looks perfect, but you have no idea what’s going on backstage.”

Boone was silent.

“And the money—the money is supposed to make it all run so smoothly, but all it really does is let you buy the most amazing, the most velvety, the most soundproof and lightproof and truthproof curtain so no one realizes all the chaos going on behind it.” I realized I was breathing hard, my hands clenched into fists, my eyes burning.

Boone gave me a long look. “Want to tell me what happened tonight?”

I sighed. “I was on a date.”

“I don’t like this story already.”

“It was stupid,” I said. “I did it to get my mother off my back.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I know how that goes.”

“And she was so excited,” I said. “She couldn’t have been more excited if she were the one going on this date. I think she thought that maybe this would—I don’t know—fix me. Fix whatever is wrong with me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He made it sound like the most ridiculous idea in the world, but I knew better.

My father hated me, but that was okay, because I hated him a lot, too. And my mother wanted to put me in a box. And I had a sister I didn’t know. And she stole my boyfriend. And I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. And I had sex with strangers. Or at least, I’d done it that one time.

“I’m not who I’m supposed to be,” I said at last.

“Who is that?”

“Hannah Swift,” I said. “I’ve tried really hard to be her, and I think I may have been, once, but it’s just not working out.”

He nodded, thoughtfully, but when he spoke, all he said was, “Swift. I was wondering what your last name was.”

Way to change the subject, buddy. “What’s yours?” As long as we were sharing, I think it would be nice to know the full name of a man I’d slept with.

His smile faded. “Smith.”

“Boone Smith.” I tried the name out on my tongue. “Okay.”

“Don’t like it?” he said. “Should I change it?”

I lifted my chin. “Yes. I command you to change your name.”

“No problem.” He grinned. “Any preference?”

I cocked my head and pretended to consider it. “Lightningrod McHotPants.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Boone said, skeptical.

“You can just go by Rod.”

“Rod, huh? I bet I could answer to that easily.” He winked at me. I leaned back to swat at him and he caught me around the waist. “C’mere.”

And then we were kissing, and oh my, his mouth was nice. I’d never given much thought to guys’ mouths before, or what was preferable, but I think I liked full lips. Or at least I liked what Boone did with his. Something in the way he moved his mouth over mine, the way his tongue slid over the inside of my bottom lip, it reminded me of the other night, on this very tailgate, when his mouth had claimed much more intimate places on my body.

Even now, when it was only mouth-to-mouth, Boone’s touch was sending sharp spears of arousal straight to my core. His kiss was firm, insistent, and supremely confident that anywhere he might wish this to go, I was more than happy to play along.

And he was right. We were still sitting awkwardly side-by side, my body twisted halfway around to meet him. I clutched fruitlessly at the front of his T-shirt and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me across his legs and onto his lap.

“I—” said Boone as he moved his lips to my cheek —“have been thinking”—down to my jawline—“about this”—my throat— “all week.”

“Oh?” I asked, but when he began to apply delicious suction to the sensitive spot just above my collarbone it changed. “Ohhhh.”

I arched my back as he continued kissing his way down the plunging neckline of my dress. His one hand was braced between my shoulder blades and his other came up to cup my breast through the shifting layers of silk.

“Bra today,” he murmured.

“What?” I opened my eyes and a second later, felt the flick of his fingers against the back clasp and my bra popped open. He eased a bra strap and the corresponding edge of the dress off my shoulder, exposing one breast to the night air.

“Boone!” I reached for my strap, panicked, and he paused.

“What?” he asked, a furrow appearing between his brows. “It was okay to take your clothes off out on the island, but not here in Canton?”

“I just—” Well, honestly, I wasn’t sure.

“No one’s here,” he said, circling the edge of his thumb around my nipple, which instantly hardened to a sharp little nub. “No one can see the things I’m doing to you.” He shifted slightly beneath me and I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He palmed my breast in his hand, cupping it as if it weighed much more than it did. “But you know, Hannah, I think you like knowing that someone might.”

He dipped his head and closed his mouth around my nipple and my eyes shut as a thrill ran from my breast right down between my legs. I let my head fall back as he did the exact same dirty, delicious things to my breast as he had to my mouth. I didn’t protest as he shifted us so I was lying down in the truck bed again, or as he slid the other shoulder of my dress off so I was naked from the waist up, and started in on the other side.

By the time he lifted his head, I was writhing beneath him, wet and aching. He moved up my body again, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along every inch of skin until he got to my face. But though I turned to meet his lips he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Out here, like this, there’s no curtain. There’s no hiding. You are who you are and anyone could just wander past and find out the truth.”

I let out a tiny little whimper.

“I owe you one more orgasm, Hannah,” Boone said, his hands sliding up under the silk and between my legs. “How would you like it? With my fingers?”

Yes. Oh, yes. My legs parted as he pressed his hand against the crotch of my panties.

“With my mouth?” He kissed me again, but I knew it was just a prelude.

Yes, yes. Please.

“Or what if—” He slid on top of me now, settling his hips between my thighs, “—we just did it right here, like this?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. A significantly large part of me wanted to be all damn the torpedoes and who cares about tomorrow and whatever else, but this wasn’t a secluded beach at the end of a hidden dirt road out on a tiny island. This was a Canton city park.

“Not here,” I whispered. He stopped grinding his hips against me. “We can’t do it here.”

“You sure?”

I nodded and sat up, pulling my dress back into place and reaching around to rehook my bra. “I want to, Boone, but I’m just not comfortable.”

“Okay.” He sat up, too, looking disappointed, but still hopeful. “Somewhere else, then?”

I brightened. “Your place?”

He hesitated. “My place is far,” he said at last. “And not very nice.”

Was he ashamed of it? “I don’t need anything nice,” I pointed out, gesturing to the flatbed.

“Hey!” he said, stroking the metal sides. “My truck is my baby.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What about your place?” he suggested.

“My mom is home!”

He shrugged and tugged me close. “Maybe she’ll think your date went really well.”

“Blecch.” I shuddered. “You just killed the mood.”

Boone laughed. “So the guy was a toad, huh?”

“Why?” I asked. “Jealous?”

“Yes,” he replied, as if it were obvious. “Some guy gets to take you out, sit across the table from you—”

“Order me food I’m allergic to,” I added.

“Ew, really?” Boone asked.

“Nuts.”

“Noted. So he was a toad.”

“The toadiest,” I assured him. “Why do you think I needed to get out of there?”

Boone sat back against the side of the truck, his face contemplative. “If he hadn’t been, would you have called me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you had had a perfectly nice date, or if you hadn’t had a date at all, or if you didn’t need my help to ‘get out of there,’ would you have called me?”

I stared at him.

“I bet you wouldn’t have.” A note of cruel humor had entered his voice, and he was shaking his head, in disappointment or self-recrimination, I couldn’t be sure. “I was your walk on the wild side.”

“Well, you certainly were that,” I nearly cried. “That was the best sex of my life.” As for what else it had been, I wasn’t sure.

His eyes widened, and whatever he’d been about to say next, it wasn’t, “Thank you.” But that’s what he said, and he almost sounded surprised.

“You’re welcome.” I crossed my arms over my chest. It was probably the strangest compliment I’d ever given, but it was the truth. We sat there for another moment, neither of us speaking. The breeze picked up, but the only thing making me cold was the fact I wasn’t in his arms anymore.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” Boone said, his voice raw. “What about you?”

I breathed in and out. Honestly? I’d been thinking about vivisections a lot of the week. And how fast it would take blood to dry and turn brown if it was painted on a wall. And whether it was scarier if the viewer saw the carnage or just like, a scrap of skin pinned at the edge of the screen with the focus on the heroine’s horrified face.

But I’d just sound insane if I said something like that to Boone.

“Okay.” His face fell. “It was a one-night stand. That was the plan.”

“No!” I reached out to him. “I mean, yeah, that was supposed to be the plan. Another of my terrible plans. And I agree with you, it was awesome. And I do want to do it again, just…” I shrugged and looked around the darkened park “…not here.”

“Then where? Do you want to go to a motel—”

I shook my head. “No, I…” I sighed, all the exhaustion of the evening, of the last few days of furious writing, of this whole crazy week suddenly crashing down on me.

“You want to go home.” Boone put a gentle hand on my knee, and when I looked up into his blue-green eyes, all I saw was understanding. “That’s okay.”

“Next time,” I said. “I promise.”

He gave my knee a playful squeeze. “Can’t wait.”