Riley had a good sense of rhythm and finally felt confident enough to get off his feet and try the steps on her own. Jack kept it simple. At the end, he twirled her and told her she was a champ, leaving Riley looking giddy and proud. April served their drinks. When they finished, Jack announced it was past Riley’s bedtime and took her back to the farmhouse. April was too restless to go inside, so she brought out a blanket and lay down to watch the stars. Blue was planning to leave in four days, Dean in a week and a half, and she’d be going back to L.A. right after. Once she got there, she’d bury herself in work and draw strength from knowing she’d finally learned to keep her soul intact.

“Dean’s at the house with Riley,” that familiar whiskey-gravel voice said. “I didn’t abandon her.”

She looked up and saw Jack coming toward her across the grass. “I thought you’d turned in for the night.”

“I’m not that old.” He went to the boom box and sorted through the CDs lying on the step next to it. Lucinda Williams began singing “Like a Rose.” He returned to the blanket and reached down for her. “Dance with me.”

“Bad idea, Jack.”

“We’ve had some of our best times with bad ideas. Stop being such an old lady.”

She hated that—he’d known she would—and she came to her feet. “If you try to feel me up…”

His teeth flashed in a pirate’s grin, and he pulled her into his arms. “Mad Jack only feels ’em up if they’re under thirty. Although, since it’s dark…”

“Shut up and dance.”

He used to smell like sex and cigarettes. Now he smelled of oak, bergamot, and night. His body, too, felt different from the skinny boy’s build she remembered. He was still thin, but he’d picked up muscle. He’d also lost the gaunt look that had hollowed out his cheeks when he’d first arrived. Lucinda’s lyrics enfolded them. They drew closer until only a ribbon of air separated their bodies. Soon even that was gone. She looped her arms around his neck. He placed his around her waist. She let herself rest against him. He had a hard-on, but it was simply there. Imposing, but not demanding anything from her.

She let herself drift with the music. She was deeply aroused, floating in a slippery sea. He brushed the hair from her neck and buried his lips in the hollow under her ear. She turned her head and let him kiss her. It was a deep, sweet kiss, far more arousing than their long-ago drunken ones. When they finally separated, the question in his eyes cut through her dreamy state. She shook her head.

“Why?” he whispered, stroking her hair.

“I don’t do one-night stands anymore.”