“Oh, you don’t have to thank me for that. He’s lucky I left the party to run after you.”

The heat in his voice made her shiver. She’d seen blood on Ryan’s face.

But she couldn’t summon the righteous indignation she’d felt in the hallway when Gabriel had hassled those bullies. The only things at risk that day had been school papers and hurt feelings. She had no idea what Ryan had planned—or what else Taylor had paid him for—but she wasn’t naïve enough to think he would have stopped there.

“Are you cold?” said Gabriel. He hadn’t stepped back, but he wasn’t close enough to touch anymore. “There’s a fleece blanket in the car.”

Layne shook her head and turned away, keeping her eyes on the lights across the water. She wondered if he was thinking about her scars. For the first time, she understood that expression about the gorilla in the corner of the room. She’d always thought being burned in a house fire was one of the worst possible things that could ever happen. Then he went and yanked the rug out from under her, saying his parents had died in one. For some reason it made her feel ridiculous and furious all at once.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to keep running from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she did.

“I might pick fights, but you run.”

Layne whirled. Starlight traced shadows across his features, and she was glad for the darkness.

“You’re wrong.” She stepped up and poked him in the chest. “You ran from me on the trail.”

He knocked her hand away. “Yeah, after you pulled away.”

He was so close, almost stealing her breath. She fumbled for words. “Well, I didn’t know what you—”

Gabriel kissed her.

Thank god his hands were there, catching her arms, because her knees didn’t feel up to the job of keeping her on her feet. He tasted like coffee and caramel and sugar. She’d always imagined he would be rough, but he wasn’t. He was gentle, cautious, drawing at her lips in a way that pulled a sound from her throat and made her want to press up against him.

Oh. This was what all the fuss was about.

His hands slid up her arms to find her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. His kiss grew more insistent, parting her lips. At the first brush of his tongue, she gasped and knew her knees were going to give out.

But then Gabriel stepped back, his hands braced on her shoulders. She was left shaking there in the middle of the path, wind coming off the water to whip through the space between them.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough, almost ashamed. “I didn’t think . . . after the way that asshole treated you—”