I don’t want to leave, but I know I should. Any one of the things I’ve been doing tonight — going out in pants, being alone with Gabriel, drinking alcohol, reading Harry Potter — would make my father flip out completely, but all of them at once?

I’d never see the light of day again. Just like there are places they send gay teens to turn them straight, there are places they send out of control women to make them more pliant. And to the people who run those kinds of places, it does not matter that I’m twenty-six and well into legal adulthood.

But right now? I’m having the best time I’ve had in months, probably since my little sister Joy and I were supposed to go pick peaches at the orchard, got turned around, couldn’t find the orchard, and ended up sitting on the rocks in the river at the state park, just talking for two hours.

We got in lots of trouble when we got home without peaches, but it was worth it.

When we stand, I’m a little wobbly on my feet and Gabriel steps forward, one hand out to steady me, but he stops short.

“Am I gonna be carrying you home anyway?” he asks.

I rest my fingertips on the table and take a moment, looking around until the world straightens out a little.

“I can’t remember the last time I had two drinks in one night,” I admit. “And I think that second one was more than one drink.”

“I’ll remember that if I ever need to get important information out of you,” Gabriel teases, as we walk for the door.

He pushes it open for me, and as I step through, I feel his fingertips on my lower back. His hand may as well be a cattle prod, because I swear it sends an electric charge up my spine, jolting my back straight.

It’s been almost a year and a half since someone touched me that intimately. I know it sounds pathetic, but all I’ve gotten since the divorce has been handshakes and awkward half-hugs, mostly from family members.

So it’s not exactly surprising that my extremely hot bodyguard touching my back kinda, sorta like we’re on a date does some things to me. Any port in a storm, right?

Well, except I’d be happy to dock the S. S. Ruby in Gabriel Harbor pretty much any time. Sunny days, rainy days, cloudy days, night time, morning time, tea time…

You’re drunk and ridiculous.

I take a deep breath of night air, finally cooling off, to try and clear my head. That second whiskey really got to me, though I’d never have accepted if I had to walk home alone. But since Gabriel’s here, I think I’ll be okay.

We walk along the uneven sidewalk, side by side, not touching.

Tell him you’re scared and ask to hold his hand, I think.

And then tell him he’s gotten something on his shirt and if he gives it to you right now, you can get it off. Maybe his pants, too.

I turn crimson and look away. It’s not like I’ve got a lot of practice in flirting or being coy, so my face is probably pretty easy to read, and right now it’s saying hey, I’d like to see you naked.

“I should tell you something,” Gabriel finally says, as we walk past dark storefronts and houses, the Methodist church with the marquee that says GOD IS LOVE.

My parents don’t like that church.

“What is it?”

“I told your father I’d report back to him.”

I turn my head too fast, and everything spins for a moment. I stop in the middle of the empty sidewalk and shut my eyes, wait for the world to even out.

“I haven’t,” he says, before I can ask any of my million questions.

“About me, you mean.”

“About anything you do that may be cause for concern, according to him.”

I open my eyes and look at Gabriel, several thousand thoughts spinning through my head at once.

“Like I said, I haven’t.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“When did he ask?”

“Friday.”

I think for a moment, looking at the GOD IS LOVE marquee and breathing steadily, trying to remember which day Friday was. It’s not like I have a job or any reason to delineate weekdays from weekends, so it all tends to blur together.

“You didn’t tell him about drinking the vodka backstage?”

“I haven’t told him anything.”

“Anything.”

“I think that’s what I just said, yeah,” he teases.

We start walking again. I knew that my father would probably ask Gabriel to spy on me, tell him about every single move I make, whether he has any reason to worry about my current moral standing, but I’m a little dumbfounded that Gabriel just told me.

If anything, I figured that my father just hadn’t asked him the right questions yet, and eventually, he’d spill.

“Why are you telling me?” I ask, suspicious. It’s not like I have anything he wants, anything I can trade for his silence.

Gabriel just frowns at me.

“Because I thought you should know,” he says. “If your father’s asking me to be Big Brother, he’s probably asked other people, too.”

I consider this for a moment, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of my eye. People never tell me things just because they think I should have information. Well, Lucas did, sometimes, but he wasn’t exactly in the habit of it and I don’t even know where he is now.

“Are you going to tell him anything?” I finally ask.

What I mean is, what are you trying to get out of me.

“That’s actually why I brought it up,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets. We come to a street corner, both streets completely empty, but he looks left and then right out of habit.

Here it comes, I think. This is the part where he tells me what he wants from me.

“I’ve got a meeting with him tomorrow morning, and I should tell him something,” he says. “If I just told him you’d been a perfect angel for the past week he might get suspicious.”

“Okay,” I say, still not knowing what he wants.

“But I don’t know what to tell him,” Gabriel goes on. “I’m not going to tell him that I caught you sneaking out to drink whiskey and read Harry Potter, but I also don’t know what would keep us above suspicion without getting you into trouble.”

Us. He asked what would keep us above suspicion. I look over at him again, and he looks back.

“What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Lying to my father. Your boss. I can’t help you, I don’t have anything you want.”

Gabriel stops again in the middle of the sidewalk, looking faintly puzzled. We’re on the edge of downtown Huntsburg now, the houses getting further apart, stone walls and gates separating them from the sidewalk.

“I know,” he says.

“If he finds out, he’ll be angry with you, too,” I point out, crossing my arms over my chest.

Now Gabriel’s starting to smile, one side of his mouth just barely pulling up.

“I know that too,” he says. “And I’m familiar with trouble.”

“So why lie to him?”

“You want to know the truth?”

I roll my eyes, exasperated.

“Yes, obviously, that’s why I’m asking.”

Gabriel chuckles, and now he’s grinning at me.

“Because your father’s kind of a creep and I like drinking whiskey with you,” he says. “Most of this security job is pretty shitty and I’d like to keep the few parts that aren’t.”

I blink at him a few times.

“That’s it?”

“You also seem like you’ve put up with more than enough bullshit and I don’t see a reason to make your life harder,” he says.

I still don’t quite believe him. I’m not used to people doing things because they’re nice or because they want to, I’m used to people doing things for gain or standing. After all, my father’s a politician who practically runs a miniature police state.

“Is it that hard to believe that I just don’t want to rat you out?” he asks, arms still crossed.

I rub my eyes, then frown at him.

“No?” I say. “It’s just… unusual. But thank you.”

I pause.

“Really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gabriel says, and we start walking again. “But I still need something to tell your father.”

I think for a moment, because I need to keep my father far, far away from my real vices — whiskey, Gabriel, Harry Potter, wearing pants, Gabriel — and give him something else to worry about. Ideally, something stupid. Really stupid.

And I know just the thing. I look at Gabriel and grin.

“Tell him a pale, translucent white rock fell out of my pocket,” I say. “And I seemed flustered that you saw it.”

“A rock.”

“And make sure that you specify it had square edges and came to a dull point on top.”

The gate to the house is about two blocks away. I’m starting to get nervous, my palms sweating a little. Every time I sneak back in, I run the risk of someone being awake without my knowledge, or the guards being on alert for some reason I don’t know about it.

For all I know, I could have been discovered missing already, the alarm already sounded.

“You want me to tell your father you’re in possession of a crystal?”

He looks at me, raising one eyebrow.

“You know that crystal meth isn’t actually crystals like that, right?”

I grin, because he’s picking up on my general strategy, even if he’s got the details wrong.

“Not drugs. Witchcraft,” I say. “You know who uses crystals like that? Fortune tellers. Mystics. Psychics. Pagans. And you know who gives all those people their powers?”

“Is it Satan?”

“Bingo.”

He looks skeptical, but only because he’s a normal person.

“He’s really going to worry that you’re dabbling in witchcraft if I tell him you’ve got a white crystal?” Gabriel says.

“He really will,” I say, still wandering along the sidewalk, my pace slowing as I get closer to the house. “Has he told you about his war against Satan?”

“He did mention something about that,” Gabriel says, and shrugs. “Witchcraft it is, I’m sure you know much more—”

A circle of light shines on the sidewalk up ahead, right outside the gate to my house, and we both stop short. Someone’s standing inside, pointing a flashlight at the sidewalk. Gabriel grabs my arm and pulls me against the stone wall separating another antebellum mansion from the sidewalk where we’re standing.

I hold my breath. He doesn’t let my arm go, and we’re both quiet until the circle of light goes away.

“That’s not normal,” I whisper. “Usually there isn’t anyone else around, I can just get back in the same way I got out.”

Gabriel pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. It’s a few minutes after midnight.

“They might have started doing rounds,” he murmurs. “Your father wanted a twenty-four-hour patrol, but last time I was at a security meeting, Ray talked him out of it. I guess he changed his mind again.”

He finally takes his hand off my arm, though I think I can still feel his fingerprints.

“That’s not so bad, right?” I whisper. “We just wait for them to go around the other side of the house and sneak back in?”

“You make it sound so simple,” he teases me. His voice is so quiet and low that I feel like I’m hearing it through my spine, little sparks shooting upwards as he talks.

“It doesn’t have to be hard.”

“I’d say you should stroll in there and tell them you were taking a walk, but you’re wearing pants,” he says.

“You mean Satan tubes.”

Gabriel gives me a wide-eyed frown.

“I’m kidding, no one calls them that,” I say. “But remind me to tell you sometime why women can’t wear them.”

“You could tell me now,” he says, a slight grin on his face.

“Get me back inside without getting caught and I’ll tell you later,” I say.

“Deal.”

Gabriel holds out a hand, and we shake. Then he nods his head toward my house, and leads the way, walking silently against the wall.

When we reach the gate, we stand outside and listen. After a moment, Gabriel crouches down and peeks through the very edge of the wrought iron monstrosity, staying perfectly still.

I’m sweating, even though the night’s cooled off. I’m drunk, I’ve sneaked out, and I’m with Gabriel, who’s being nice to me for no reason other than to be nice, and whose biceps I want to lick.

Finally he stands and looks back at me.

“You can get the bar out more quietly than I can,” he says.

I step around him, grab the loose iron bar, and pull it just right. There’s a tiny scraping noise, but it comes out almost silently. Gabriel squeezes through and I follow, putting the bar back, we duck into the small, dark space between the hedge and the wall.

After about twenty feet, he puts his hand on my shoulder and we stop again. There are branches poking into me, stiff leaves against my face. I hold my breath. Gabriel’s hand stays on my shoulder, and then I can barely see his face turn toward me in the dark.

“Wait,” he murmurs.

I wait. I lean back slightly, the cool stone wall against my shoulder blades, and I watch Gabriel’s barely-visible face and hope that the echoing thump of my heart doesn’t give us away.

Through the hedge, I can barely see a beam of light.

Please don’t notice the open window, I think. Please.

“Probably just a cat,” someone says.

“Or a raccoon or something. Did I tell you last week my mama called me nearly in hysterics, something about a bear getting into her outdoor trash can, so I drove over at seventy miles an hour and when I get there ain’t nothing but raccoon prints all over the thing?”

“Yeah, you told me last night.”

The voices are getting fainter.

“Shoot,” the other one says, and then I can’t see the light any more, but Gabriel’s thumb is stroking my shoulder through my shirt, he’s still looking down at me. I feel like all my muscles have liquefied.

I tilt my head up and turn my body toward him. A branch scratches my arm and I ignore it, because all I can think about is him, inches away from me, and he’s looking at me in a way no one’s ever looked at me before.

Even though it’s dark, I could almost swear his gaze is hungry. Voracious. So smoldering that I think I might spontaneously combust at any second, and then he leans in, just barely.

I’m going crazy, the air between us charged and electric, the promise of his mouth on mine short-circuiting my brain, and I watch his lips, moving in closer. I’m not really sure how to do this, how to kiss someone for the first time without discussing it beforehand, but this seems right.

Gabriel swallows so hard I can hear it, and then he pulls his hand from my shoulder. My eyes open.

“You should go before they circle back,” he murmurs.

The disappointment feels like a brick to my stomach, but I step back again and nod.

“Right,” I whisper. “Thanks for walking me home.”

I think he smiles, but it makes me feel like I just asked a friend’s older, hot brother if he liked me back and he said no.

“Of course,” he says. “Hurry up.”

I take a deep breath and squeeze through the hedge, look around, and make my way for the window again.