She’d always been able to do that, find the joy in the moment. He’d never been nearly as good at it, but he felt a surge of joy now, for no reason other than the car was running like a sweet thing, the wind blew fresh sea air in his face, and…and Summer was smiling at him.

She’d kissed him. He’d kissed her. Amazing, she’d murmured, and he had to agree. He felt her glance at him, but pretended not to notice, pretended not to be hard as a rock as well, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking to be taking her home. She was bad for him, bad for his mental health.

He was absolutely not going inside her place. No way. Maybe he should chain himself to the seat just in case he forgot that fact.

She gave him directions and he pulled onto a street lined with small, narrow cottages sitting on the bluffs above the ocean. “Why aren’t you staying with your mom?”

“I did that first night, but Chloe’s friend was staying here, and she left for Maine for the summer, and I thought I might enjoy the location…” She trailed off with a lift of one shoulder.

“And…”

“And what?”

“And the real reason you’re staying here instead of with your mom?”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze skittered away. “I think my family’s just waiting for me to leave.”

“Maybe because you have a history of doing exactly that.”

“But not this time.”

“They’ll come around.” When he turned off the engine the night was quiet and dark, and they might have been alone in the world. He gripped the steering wheel as if it were his lifeline, anchoring him to a reality that was slowing slipping away.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Wasn’t going to do anything.

“Come inside.”

Yes. Yes. “No.”

“Why not?”

Her hair glimmered in the night. Her eyes were bright and clear and full of the things they could be doing to each other. She’d pulled her legs beneath her but he could still remember how perfectly long and smooth and tanned they were, and at the thought of how they’d feel wrapped around him, he nearly drooled like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. He held on to the steering wheel for all he was worth. “Because.”

“Good reason.”

“Okay, how about because you’re feeling vulnerable, and so am I.”

“Because of Cindy?”

“Not because of Cindy, no.”

“Because of the fire?”

Because of you. “Look, it’s been a long night all around. A rough one.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and when he dropped it, she had sympathy and compassion welling in her eyes and he had to close his. “It’d be better if you stopped looking at me.”

“Better for who?”

“For me.”

She didn’t stop looking at him.