“You don’t want to kiss me.” Nicola blushed as she said the words, one arm draped over his shoulder, as they hovered on the line of can’t-change-it-once-we-go-there.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t?” Her flirtatious blush threatened to turn embarrassed.

“Oh, hell. Yes, I do.”

And then he did. Cowboy hat pushed off into the water, floating away, his arms wrapping tightly around her slim shoulders. Even now, it fired his blood. Hot, slow burn. They’d kissed for hours, breathing each other in, floating in the water, bathing suits on, maybe clearing second base. He wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“All right, Betty. I need to go for a run.” He looked at the rifle, and she didn’t say a word. That was good because he thought he’d already lost his mind. If Miss Betty chimed in with something to say, he’d have to call up his boss at Titan and put in for some sick leave.

Cash jumped out of bed and threw on his Nikes, sweatpants, and a muscle shirt. He grabbed an ankle holster and the .38 that wasn’t a pain to run with, then tucked it in. Making his way through the dark house, he moved past the kitchen and caught sight of Nicola sitting outside. It’d easily been an hour since he’d left her.

He opened the back door. She looked lost and alone, but so much stronger than he remembered. “You on sentry duty?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He looked at her arm, free of bandages, and at the sling next to her and the bottle of Jack. No shot glass. “Did you try?”

“Nope.” Her feet were planted on the picnic table’s bench, and she sat on the table top. “You were asleep?”

“I tried and failed.” He sat down next to her, opened the bottle, and took a long swig. The liquor’s fire coated his throat, so he took another. Propping his elbows on his knees, he hung his head and passed the bottle, not looking at Nicola.

Their fingers brushed, sending a cascade of awareness from his hand to his chest. She took the bottle and swallowed a Nicola-sized swig. And then again. “I’m scared to close my eyes. Vivid memories. You know?”

Yeah, vivid described that green bikini. “I was thinking the same thing. About to head for a run. I needed to clear my frontal cortex.”

“What were you thinking about?”

All night long, the moon had hidden beneath a blanket of clouds, but that moment, it decided to peek out a sliver, just enough to paint her in a gauzy, milky light. She was beautiful.

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Nic. Does it?”

“Guess not.”

She took another pull of Jack and handed it to him. Cash did the same, embracing the thought-pausing sear of liquor. He didn’t know what to think about her sadness-tinged voice. “Give me the wrap.” His run was never going to happen if he sat there making excuses to stay. Still, he took the bandage from her hand.