I take a pull on my beer. “What does that mean, exactly?”
He shrugs. “It means I started driving cars when I was twelve. Stolen cars. It means I took what I wanted, money, drugs, and jewelry. Stuff I didn’t want. I just thought it was fun. I liked the risk, and the adrenaline that came with it. I didn’t care if I got caught. I didn’t care if I was failing school, or that my parents had no idea what to do with me. I was impulsive. Daring.” He laughs. “Stupid as fuck.”
“But you finally stopped all that?”
“My parents tried everything. Boarding school, the military academy, finally they decided I needed a little fucking perspective. So, they sent me to a program in the middle of nowhere, and from there I was tossed in the middle of the woods, and told to figure out how to survive. There was no safety net, no soft bed, no warm shower or prepared meals. It was all on me. There was no one to defy but Mother Nature.” He glances to the hazy sky. “And no one is controlling that bitch.”
I lean back in my seat, listening and observing. He tells it all casually, without a trace of angst. He owns who he is—no excuses—and that is a little refreshing.
“What rule did you break when you kissed me?”
“The one where I don’t dump my baggage on other people.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You are just like Dexter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My brother, he’s always making things more complicated than necessary.”
“The baker?”
“Yep. He’s gotten better, though.”
“How so?” He seems to genuinely want to know.
“By falling in love and not taking himself so seriously.”
“So, a woman changed him?” I hear the eye roll even if I can’t see it.
“No, a woman stood by him and he stood by her. Starlee taught him that he was more than his past and the anger and defiance that boiled under his skin.”
He stares at the fire and admits, “Maybe we are a lot alike.”
I may have had too much beer, because I make my own confession, “I kissed you that night because I liked you. You’re hot and I was looking for a little fun, not a commitment for the rest of my life.”
His eyebrow lifts. “You think I’m hot?”
“When you’re not being a jerk.”
He nods, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll remember that.”
The fire crackles, but that’s not the only heat ebbing between us. I’m glad he can’t see how red my face is or how loud my heart is thundering. I don’t want to let him know that the dark side of him, the one he’s fought so hard to shed, is attractive to me, too. It’s probably the real reason I sought him out that night.
And it’s also probably the reason I’m sitting across from him now.
17
Adrian
I don’t know if it’s because I flooded the bathroom, or just because it needs to be done, but when the guys go into the Park for the afternoon, I volunteer to spackle the living room walls.
I’m not alone, Sierra is working alongside me, wearing one of those too-thin tank tops with a strappy bra that criss-crosses over her back, and shorts that graze her upper thighs.
It’s not helping me forget about that kiss. I’ve been replaying it on a loop. Her soft lips, the taste of mint on her tongue, the way she’d responded just before she pushed me away. The look in her eye wasn’t angry or upset—just cautious.
“Agghhhh,” she groans, and I look over. A large glob of spackle fell from the knife. “This job is the worst. So freaking tedious.”
“Yeah,” I agree, handing her a rag to wipe up the mess. “It’s not the best.”