My fingers actually ache for my camera. But the gun took up too much room in my backpack, so there wasn’t room for the Canon Rebel.

Bandit, however, is not appreciating the view. He’s not even looking at it.

Instead, his palms are braced against the railing, and he’s lowered his ears between his shoulders, breathing hard.

Uh-oh. Does he suspect what’s inside my backpack, amid the dried-flower-infused lip gloss and cell phone battery pack?

I place a hand on his shoulder. “Bandit, are you okay?”

He pauses for an inordinately long minute. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.” Dropping my backpack, I wiggle my way in between his arms so that he has to look at me.

He lifts his face, and his expression is both sheepish and miserable. “I kinda have this thing about germs.”

I let out a breath. So he doesn’t suspect me. Suddenly, I remember the small mountain of sanitizer he squirted into his hand when I vomited in the bushes. I guess he wasn’t concerned about my germs, in particular. He just doesn’t like anybody’s.

“It’s more than a thing if you’re out here trying to catch your breath,” I say.

“First time that’s happened,” he admits. “The level of filth is just over-the-top. I could feel myself getting sick just standing there.” He shudders. “‘Phobia’ is too strong a word, though. I’m not a fan of germs. That’s all. I don’t even like to touch people.”

“You’re touching me,” I point out.

We both look down at our bodies, which have somehow become nestled against each other.

The air practically bristles with energy. I’m wedged in between his legs, my back up against the railing. A pulse beats at his neck. His lips are parted—and inches from mine.

I detect the moment his eyes change, shifting from panic into…something else. Something that warms me from the inside out.

“See, that’s what I like about you.” He places both hands at my waist, and my nerves sizzle through my T-shirt. “When I’m around you, I hardly think about germs.”

“You held my hair back when I threw up in the bushes,” I say, my voice wobbly. “That had to be challenging.”

“It wasn’t my favorite moment.” He brushes back my hair, and his fingers skate along my ear. “But to be honest, I was just focused on helping you.”

I’m trying really hard not to go up in flames, right here on the balcony. It would be such a shame. With so much wood, I’d turn this entire house into an inferno.

“You make me want to try all sorts of things I’ve been too afraid to try,” he murmurs, staring at my lips.

“Do you mean kissing?” I ask, trying to string together some brain cells. “Are you saying you’ve never kissed anyone before?”