Chapter 7: : Chapter 7

The next morning, giggles pierce the air, and I open my eyes, blinking away the sleep.

That was a girl.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I train my ears, hearing the steady rocking of something coming from Noah’s bedroom, and then a moan followed by something banging into the wall.

I roll my eyes and fall back to the bed. They really are living their best life, aren’t they? Must be nice to have your bed buddies come to you. At the crack of dawn every morning.

Doors open and close in the house, and I check my phone, seeing it’s just after five-thirty. Turning my head, I see my unpacked suitcase still laying open on the floor next to the pile of clean laundry I’d brought up last night.

I hadn’t finished packing. And I hadn’t changed my clothes. I was still wearing the shredded T-shirt Kaleb found me in last night.

Memories rush through my mind, and my chest starts rising and falling faster as everything that happened in the garage floods me again.

Who knew I’d fold so easily? I was so ready to wrap my legs around anyone who showed me the least bit of attention.

I close my eyes, still feeling it. The need for him to go lower. My hand finds my stomach under the covers, and for a moment, I pretend it’s his hand. Did I feel good to him?

But I blink, shaking my head. No.

No.

I throw off the covers and sit up. His behavior was ridiculous. What’s even more ridiculous is he wouldn’t have tried to get it on with a complete stranger if it hadn’t worked for him in the past. He didn’t like what he felt. He was horny, and I could’ve been anyone.

Standing up, I pull off my shirt, noticing a few red spots around the hem, and it only takes a moment before it hits me.

Blood.

The deer’s blood.

Ugh. He still had some on him when he was…on top of me. I growl under my breath and throw the shirt over to the waste basket, half of it catching on the rim and hanging over the side.

Pulling on a new one, I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, opening my bedroom door and heading for the bathroom. Moans, cries, and “Wow” by Post Malone carry out from Noah’s room into the hallway, so I rush and swing open the door to the bathroom, seeing my uncle standing there at the sink, a towel wrapped around his waist.

I stop, his wet torso and hair glistening in the dim light, and I quickly look away. This is a big house. It would’ve been prudent to add a second bathroom.

I open my mouth to apologize at barging in, but the door is equipped with a lock. It’s not my fault he didn’t use it.

The other door to the bathroom, the one that comes from his bedroom, opens, and I see the same woman appear that was here the other day. She wears a tight, red, halter-top dress, her long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, and black heels. She kisses him on the cheek, lingering long enough to nibble at his jaw a moment, and then walks out, squeezing past me with barely a look. I watch her walk down the stairs, disappearing, and then turn my head back around, instinctively glancing at the darkened stairwell leading up to Kaleb’s room.

“Shower?” Jake finally asks.

I turn around, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he wipes the toothpaste off his mouth. A drop of water spills down his back.

“No, I… just wanted to brush my teeth.” I turn to leave. “I’ll wait.”

“Four people and one shower,” he calls out, stopping me. “Don’t be shy.”

“Would you be shy if I were walking around in a towel?” I shoot back.

Seriously.

He meets my gaze, an amused tilt to his lips, and he nods. “I’ll try to get into the habit of bringing my clothes with me to my shower, okay?” And then clarifies, “I’ll try. We’ve been without a woman in this house a long time.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. There are constantly women in this house.

“You know what I mean,” Jake says, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

Whatever.

“You don’t need to change your habits,” I tell him. “If I’m not staying…”

He glances at me again and then grabs a can of shaving cream, not saying whatever it is I know he wants to. I walk in, shaking my head a little before wetting my toothbrush and applying toothpaste. I’m not waiting for him to get done. What kind of mountain man doesn’t just grow a beard?

I recap the toothpaste and toss it down behind the faucet. “You showered after work yesterday,” I mumble, raising the toothbrush for my mouth. “Do you normally take another one in the morning?”

“Only when I get dirty at night, too,” he retorts.

I falter, darting my eyes up to see him rubbing shaving cream over his jaw and neck without missing a beat, because how else would a man get dirty in his own bed at night? I think of the woman with the toned thighs and red lips who just walked out of here.

I blink and start brushing my teeth.

“You did a good job on the stalls yesterday,” he says.

I did?

“The boys have been doing it their whole lives, and they just don’t give a shit. It was nice to see it done how I would do it.”

I nod once but keep my head down as I brush. He’s placating me.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Tiernan?” he asks.

I shoot my eyes up at him. He looks at me, shaving foam covering the lower half of his face as he washes off his hands.

“Back home in L.A.?” he clarifies. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

I spit the toothpaste out, but instead of answering, I go back to brushing.

“Have you had any men?” he asks more bluntly when I don’t respond. “Whatsoever?”

I slow my strokes, my breathing turning shallow. Is he asking if I’ve had sex?

Every inch of my clothing touches my skin, and my blood courses hot through my veins. I squeeze the toothbrush in my hand.

Spitting once more, I rinse out my mouth and finally raise my eyes, looking at him in the mirror. What does he want from me?

“You’re still a girl,” he says, guessing the answer without me telling him, “and you still need some raising.”

I watch him tilt his head back, glide the razor up his neck, against the grain.

“You should stay,” he tells me. “It’s nice having a woman in the house.”

I watch him, trying not to. The smooth, tan skin of his neck revealed with every stroke. The water still clinging to his muscular shoulders and chest. The way the towel hugs the V around his hips, and I blink and cast my eyes away, but I can’t help but steal another glance, because I like looking at it.

The way he and Kaleb may not look alike in the face, but you can totally see they’re related when they’re half-dressed.

Maybe I should tell him about last night. How his son cornered me and tried to screw me on the hood of his car and how maybe this isn’t the safest place for me, after all.

We don’t get along. Noah pushes my bad buttons, and I’m sleeping even worse since I got here.

Maybe I should tell him I’m leaving.

But instead, I pick up the shaving cream, pour some foam into my hand, and start dabbing it on my face as he stops shaving to watch me.

As soon as my cheeks are covered, and I look like Santa, I pick up my toothbrush again to use the handle as a razor.

“You got no idea how to raise girls,” I tell him.

He smirks at me in the mirror. “Want me to make a man out of you then?”

“You can try.” And I hold my toothbrush ready. Maybe he’ll let me do some ‘man’s’ work, then.

He snorts and leans over the sink, and I follow, taking his lead.

Stroke by stroke, I mimic his technique, against the grain up the neck, with the grain down his cheek and jaw, and over the top of the upper lip. We stand side by side, peering into the mirror, and stopping periodically to rinse off our “razors” before continuing.

He catches my eyes and smiles before leading me through the final strokes, but his arm brushing mine makes my heart beat harder as the smell of his clean body fills the bathroom.

When we’re done and only a few smudges of foam remain, he pulls a towel off the rack and cleans off my face, and for a minute, I feel like a kid and want to laugh for some reason.

But when he pulls the towel away, he looks down at me, and my hidden smile sinks to the bottom of my stomach, and so does his. He’s close.

His eyes hold mine, and we stand there, heat filling the room so hot I…

I swallow, seeing his Adam’s apple rise and then fall, too.

“Looks like I failed,” he says barely above a whisper. “There’s no hiding what you are.”

A girl.

He almost sounds remorseful at that fact.

He turns away, slowly wiping off his own face. “I’m hungry. Pancakes?”

But I barely hear him, standing there and watching him and the words flowing out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I may never be a man,” I tell him, “but I won’t always be a girl, either.”

I pause long enough to see him falter and his face fall, and I can’t help the small smile that peeks out as I turn and leave the bathroom.

Surely, I can take on more responsibilities.

When I’m a woman.

I pour some pancake batter onto the griddle, hearing it sizzle as I refill the ladle and pour another circle, one after the other. I watch the batter bubble against the heat, rubbing the smooth surface of my thumbnail.

For once, I’m actually happy to be cooking their breakfast. Jake and Noah are outside, taking care of their morning chores, but I still haven’t seen Kaleb, and rather than hide in my room and dread running into him, I can just stay busy.

Why the hell isn’t my suitcase packed?

After I left my uncle stunned stupid in the bathroom earlier, I dressed and made my bed, leaving my empty luggage abandoned on the floor, but even if the episode with Kaleb last night had never happened, I’m not sure I would’ve gone through with packing it then, either.

I lay the ladle in the bowl and pick up the spatula, flipping the pancakes and making the batter splatter.

Maybe that’s why I always came home on school breaks. Too desperate not to be alone.

I whip around to grab the plate and see Kaleb.

I stop. He leans against the refrigerator, staring at me, and my heart jumps as I clench my thighs. How long has he been standing there?

His green eyes watch me, the same curious expression he wore last night, and I can’t even hear the branches outside blowing against the house because my pulse pounds in my ears.

What is he staring at?

Locking my jaw, I grab the plate off the island and spin back around, scooping the pancakes onto the plate. He’s still dressed in jeans, but these ones are clean, and he looks showered, although his hair is disheveled like he just got up. I guess Jake doesn’t hold him to the same standard he holds Noah and me with his five-thirty wake-up calls?

His eyes burn my back, but after a moment, I hear the fridge open and close and then feel him approach my side. Is he going to apologize? What if I hadn’t been a step-cousin? What if I’d actually been blood when he decided to ignore my protests last night?

Slowly, I clear the griddle and dole out four more scoops of batter as he pours himself a glass of juice, but even though my eyes are on my task, all I can see is him next to me. He smells…

Like leather. Like musky bodywash. He must’ve just showered then. Last night it was…rain, trees, firewood, and sweat. He smelled like the woods. Heat pools between my legs at the memory.

I shake my head. For Christ’s sake.

“Leave the juice out,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t listen.

He turns around as if he didn’t hear me and takes the juice, sticking it back into the refrigerator.

“You like blueberry?” I ask. “Buttermilk?”

I don’t give a damn what he likes. I just want him to make me go upstairs and pack my suitcase.

“Chocolate chip?” I keep going, pushing us both. “Pumpkin? Whole grain?”

He picks up his glass of orange juice and strolls over to the table, gulping it as he goes on like I don’t exist.

I tighten my fist around the spatula as I flip the pancakes, breathing hard through my nose.

“How many would you like?” I drone on. “Three? Four?”

I glance over to see if he’s nodding or shaking his head or holding up fingers to tell me how many he wants, but he just sets his glass down on the table and pulls out a chair.

I pull out the plug of the griddle and add the fresh pancakes to the pile on the plate, grabbing the syrup and forks. The front door swings open and the floor creaks with footsteps as Jake and Noah come barreling in. How do they know when breakfast is ready?

I carry the pancakes to the table, setting the plate down in the middle as Noah grabs a glass of milk and Jake washes his hands. Both immediately over to the table.

Steam from blueberry pancakes wafts into the air as the guys sit down, and I twist around to pick up the plates off the island, my anger still rising.

I set a plate down in front of Jake, one down in front of Noah, and the last down in front of me, feeling Kaleb’s eyes on me, because I didn’t give him one.

I don’t cook for you.

Noah and Jake must realize something is happening because they stop moving. I glance up, seeing their eyes move between Kaleb and me, and I know Noah can guess the tension between us, but I don’t know if Jake knows yet. Noah probably didn’t talk about last night for fear of getting his brother in trouble.

Without blinking, though, Kaleb picks up the plate of pancakes in the middle of the table, doles out three to Jake, three to Noah, and then pauses only a moment, holding my eyes, before dropping the plate back onto the table, right in front of himself and taking the rest of the pancakes. Picking up the syrup, he pours it on his stack without leaving any for me.

Prick.

Noah clears his throat, but I can hear the laugh, while Jake sighs, taking his plate and setting it down in front of me. Reaching over to the island, he takes another one and uses his fork to pick a couple of pancakes off Kaleb’s over-loaded plate.

“You both met already, I see,” Jake grumbles.

But no one responds as the boys start eating.

“This looks good, Tiernan,” Jake says, trying to ease the tension. “Blueberry pancakes are the only thing your father and I—”

“I don’t care,” I spit out and push the plate away.

Everyone quiets, and I stand up and grab an apple from the fruit basket. Taking a bite, I walk over to fill up my water bottle from the refrigerator.

I know I’m being rude, and I’m sorry for it.

Maybe I’ll take a hike. Stretch my legs, give them some space.

The kitchen is quiet for a few more moments, but I hear Noah speak up.

“I’m finishing the Lawrence bike today,” he tells his father, I’d assume. “The guys are coming. I’m gonna take it out to Ransom’s Run. Test it out.”

“Don’t take all day,” Jake tells him, his tone a bite now. “We have more work to do.”

His patience from a moment ago is gone, and I know I pissed him off.

I look over and see him turn to Kaleb next as he stabs his plate with his fork. “And don’t you disappear, either,” he orders his oldest.

All the men fall silent, hurrying through their breakfast, and the tension in the room now thicker than mud.

I twist the lid back on and prepare to leave the dishes for them, but when I turn around to go, I catch Kaleb staring at me again. Except his eyes are on my legs.

I wear ripped jean shorts, not too short, and a flannel buttoned up to my neck.

I drift my gaze around the table, noticing I have more clothes on than any of them. Jake and Kaleb aren’t wearing any shirts, and Noah’s tee has the sides cut out, giving glimpses of the smooth, tan chest underneath.

Kaleb’s black hair against his sun-kissed face.

Jake’s toned shoulders and narrow waist.

The veins in Noah’s forearms and…

I straighten, swallow, and turn around, quickly leaving the room.

I need to get out of here.

I hit the gas and pull the truck up the driveway until I reach the top of the incline, feeling the gravel kick up under me. Turning off the engine, I take the work gloves off the passenger-side seat and hop out of the truck, heading for the bed as I pull them on.

“You find your way okay?” Jake approaches, dropping the tailgate for me.

I nod.

“The guys were helpful?”

“Yes.”

We both hop up into the bed to start unloading the hay.

After breakfast, he’d asked me to take the truck to town to pick up some bales of hay, and I happily agreed once I learned I could go on my own. Some air. Some space. It was just as good as a hike, and hey, I got to go to my first Tack & Feed store. Thankfully, it sported no racks with tabloids for sale, so I was able to avoid news from home.

Music and laughter come from the garage, and I look over, seeing a group of motorbikes parked off to the side. Must be the friends Noah was talking about when he said he was taking the bike out today.

A couple of women hang out nearby as others talk in the garage, and I watch them in their jeans and summer tops, laughing and smiling. How much longer will the weather be nice enough to ride? Seems like fun.

Jake and I unload the hay, gripping the wires and hauling each bale over to the stable. One of the girls smiles as I pass.

None of them wear make-up, no fancy manicures, and no stylish clothes, but they don’t need it. They’re pretty, dressed to play, and for a moment, I want to be one of them.

I carry a bale into the barn, walking it down to a stall. Is Kaleb going with them?

How does he get along with friends without speaking? Does he have friends? I mean, if he’s like that as a mute, can you imagine what would come out of his mouth if he spoke?

I shake my head. Curiosity swirls in my mind over what happened to him at the age of four that made him stop talking, but I push the thought away. We’ve all got problems.

“I want to hear you,” someone pants.

I slow as I hit the stall.

“Show me what you want me to do,” she whispers.

I almost drop the hay.

Her voice is barely audible, so soft like she’s hanging on by a thread.

I set the hay down, taking a step back. It could be anyone. There’s lots of people here right now, and I don’t want to be embarrassed. Slowly, I retreat.

But then I hear a grunt, a shuffle of hay, and a small cry. I halt.

“I’m gonna make you moan,” she tells him. “You’re gonna like it that much.”

I don’t know why, but I take a soft step forward. Following the sounds to the far stall at the end of the stable, I get to the door with the top half partially open and listen closely again.

“Come on…” she moans.

I hold my breath and peer through the crack in the door. Skin and hands fill my view as he threads his fingers through her long black hair, and she kneels between his legs and sucks his…

I look away for a second, heat rising to my cheeks.

But her soft little whimpers draw my attention again.

Her head moves up and down on him, her hands running up his jean-clad thighs and gripping his belt, pulling his pants down more, so that I see his hips and the curve of his ass.

I can’t see her face, and I can’t see what she’s doing to him, but I know.

I slide my eyes up—taking in his muscles, skin, shiny with sweat again, and before I get to his face, I know who it is.

Kaleb has his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and breathes hard as he grips her hair, forcing her up and down on his cock. The muscles in his forearms flex, and his hair damn near hangs in his eyes, but I watch his face, the woman forgotten. Sweat dampens the ends of his hair, sticking to his skin, and his lips tighten periodically, because he…

He likes it. I hear her moan, even with him in her mouth, and he pulls her down on him again and again as his eyebrows pinch together.

And then his eyes open.

His head tilts forward again, and his gaze pins me through the crack like he knew I was here the whole time.

Shit.

I stop breathing again. My body tenses, and shame burns my skin, but he starts moving faster, pumping himself into her mouth now as his eyes burn a hole right through me.

My mouth opens, because it’s the only thing that will move. I don’t even see her anymore as he leans forward into her, one hand still in her hair and one hand holding a sideboard as he fucks her mouth. His hips pump faster and faster, his eyes suddenly piercing like they did last night when he pushed me into the wall and… smelled me.

A drop of sweat falls down my stomach under my flannel, and I almost find myself starting to move with him, entranced.

I lean into the door, soaking up the only few centimeters closer I can get.

She groans, he and I stare at each other, and all I see is how he would’ve moved with me last night.

If I hadn’t stopped him.

But then a moan escapes, and I don’t realize it came from me until I see the corner of his mouth curl into a smile. I suck in a breath, finally realizing what the hell I’m doing.

Fuck. I turn away, putting my hand over my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut.

Shit.

Behind me, I hear him grunt under his breath, and then hiss, fast, heavy breathing pouring in and out of his lungs as I lean against the stall, listening to him come.

I shudder, she whimpers, and I run, out of the stable and into the late morning air.

Why did I do that? What the hell was I doing?

A light layer of sweat covers my back, and I wish I had a tank top on under this so I could pull off the long-sleeved shirt.

He’s vile. Jake was right. He and Noah are nothing compared to that.

And I’ll bet he enjoys himself, too, reaping all the benefits of playing the mysterious, tortured soul who doesn’t speak, but it’s just so alluring and sweet, because women want to save him.

I don’t care what happened to him when he was four.

And I did nothing wrong. I heard a cry. I went to look. Shock prevented me from moving once I saw what it was. That’s it.

I pull Noah’s baseball cap off and turn it around, the bill shielding me from the sun as I head back to the truck where Jake is sweeping out the bed.

“Hey, Tiernan!” I hear Noah call.

I tense, wondering if he saw me watching his brother. Turning around, I see everyone loading onto their bikes, the two girls I saw earlier climbing onto their own, and Noah smiling from his.

I raise my eyebrows.

“You want to come with us?” he asks.

I look behind him, recognizing the guy from town yesterday.

Terrance. The one he apparently doesn’t like, but I guess they travel in the same circles, and it’s a small town, so… He pulls on his helmet, a smile in his eyes as he watches me.

I glance at Jake for a way out.

He jumps down from the bed, jerking his chin at me. “I have to make a run to town anyway. Go ahead,” he tells me. “Have fun, but stay with Noah.”

My stomach sinks. I don’t like being around people I don’t know. I don’t like being around people.

When I turn back around, though, I see Kaleb strolling out of the stables, pulling his shirt on, and the girl he had in the stall following him.

The girl from the store yesterday. The one who tried to get in my face.

I stare at her—tight jeans, loose green tank top, long black hair—and a brick sits in my stomach.

“Come on.” Noah holds a helmet out to me. “Ride with me.”

And for some reason, I kind of want to now. My feet move without thinking.

I walk over to Noah, meeting Terrance Holcomb’s eyes for a moment as I pass.

But as soon as I stop at Noah’s bike, turn my cap around, and reach for the helmet, another hand shoots out and pulls it away before I can get to it.

I look up, seeing Kaleb. He only hesitates a moment, glaring down at me, before tossing the helmet to the ground and away from me. Taking my arm, he pulls me away from the bikes, and I stumble and straighten just in time as he walks into me, forcing me backward.

My heart hammers in my chest as he stares down at me, and then he jerks his chin toward the house. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know he’s ordering me inside.

Away from them. Away from him.

“Kaleb,” I hear Noah chide.

But snickers and snorts break out around the group, and despite the twinge of anger I feel, my eyes start to burn.

Away. He looks down at me, jerking his chin again. Away.

You’re not going.

Jake stands in the truck bed, suddenly aware something is going on, and I clench my jaw to fight the tears. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to be away. Where I can’t be seen or looked at or detested.

“No, it’s fine,” I say quietly to Noah, choking on the tears in my throat.

And I back away, turning for the house.

“Tiernan,” Jake calls.

But I cut him off. “I didn’t want to go anyway,” I tell him, my eyes watering. “Sounds boring.”

And I jog up the stairs and walk into the house, hearing the engines rev, and after a moment, the high-pitched whir of them speeding away.

I head for the staircase, but I halt in the middle of the living room, realizing there’s nothing up there for me either. Another closed door. Another place to hide. Another room to pass the time until…

I drop my eyes, needles prickling the back of my throat.

Until I don’t have to worry about being seen.

My chin trembles, and a tear falls. I swipe it away.

I don’t want to think, because then I’ll be fucking alone, and that’s all I ever am.

The truck fires up outside, and I close my eyes, thinking I should be relieved my uncle is leaving, too. I should be thankful he didn’t come in after me. Neither one of us is the heart-to-heart kind, are we?

He’s giving me space.

But he just leaves, the sound of his engine disappearing down the road, and I stand there for less than a minute before setting off upstairs and opening my bedroom door.

I bypass my suitcase, still laying empty on the floor, and grab my backpack, double-checking my little First Aid kit is inside and take my sunscreen, stuffing it in the front pocket. Pulling my phone off the charger, I leave the room and head downstairs, filling up a water bottle and packing a few snacks.

I walk toward the front door, but then I stop, remembering.

Protection.

I head back through the kitchen and open the door to the garage, stepping down the few stairs and gazing at the row of rifles on the rack.

I wish I didn’t have to carry one. I’d look like an idiot—or a terrorist—walking down Ventura with a firearm slung over my shoulder. But my uncle is right. This isn’t the city. I could run into trouble.

I chew my lips, no idea what I’m really looking at. I don’t know about preciseness or ease of use, so I just grab the one I know how to use and open the drawer underneath, finding the bullets. Loading the weapon, I swing the strap of the rifle over my shoulder.

Quickly, I sift through my uncle’s tools, finding a flashlight, and then grab a clean towel off the basket on top of the dryer. I put everything in my pack, zip it up, and pull it on, ready to go.

Stepping out of the shop and around the house, I head for the woods, climbing the steep incline Jake took me through on the horse the other day. I think I remember the way. It’s a straight shot up and around some rocks, and then I continue on, going deeper into the trees. There should be a worn path… I would think.

I should text my uncle and let him know where I’m going.

But instead, I keep my phone tucked away in my pocket.

Reaching the top of the hill, I follow the dirt path around some boulders, keeping my eyes open and my ears trained, but after a few minutes, the headache that always seems to be aching around the back of my head fades away, and I inhale deep breaths, smelling the needles of the evergreens and the wet earth under my shoes.

Maybe I should turn back and put on Noah’s old boots he loaned me yesterday, but I can’t care that my sneakers have zero traction right now. My stomach is unknotting, and all I can hear is the creaking of the trees and the water coming from somewhere.

After a while, I’m not even paying attention to my surroundings anymore. I follow the trail I’m not sure is an actual trail, but it winds through the trees, guiding me deeper into the quiet and the solitude, and I peer through to see if I can make out the peak in the distance. But it’s too thick.

I take off Noah’s hat and shake out my locks, the breeze feeling good on my scalp and the wind clearing my head. I close my eyes.

But suddenly, I hear a rock fall behind me, bouncing off a boulder or something, and I jerk around, scanning the woods I just walked through.

The pulse in my neck throbs as the sunlight streams through the trees to the forest floor, and I train my eyes, trying to see around trunks and rocks. I reach to my side, clutching the butt of the rifle.

If it’s an animal, I won’t see it until it wants me to. I swallow, trying to catch sight of anything.

But there’s nothing.

No movement.

I remain still for a few more moments, making sure nothing is there and turn around, occasionally looking over my shoulder and keeping my eyes open just in case. It’s probably nothing. Trees fall, rocks spill, animals scurry…

I reach the top of another steep incline, the land leveling out, and look at the trail ahead, trying to remember how much farther it is.

But then I look left, doing a double-take, and see it.

I smile. Like actually smile.

I head for the pond Jake and I passed the other day, relieved I didn’t get lost. I climb down the rocks and come to the little beach and look out at the rock walls surrounding the water. Lush foliage hugs the sides, trees tower overhead, but there’s enough sunlight getting through to shimmer across the still water.

It’s empty. No people, no noise, and the warmth of the sun feels good.

I debate for a moment if I should strip, glancing around as if someone may be watching, but I decide to keep my clothes on. Or most of them.

I set the rifle down and drop my pack before unbuttoning Noah’s shirt. Wearing a sports bra underneath, I pull off his shirt and drop it to the ground with my hat, starting my Spotify playlist on my phone and setting it down before walking into the water with my sneakers on. I’ll get dry on the walk back. I’d rather not be in my underwear if anyone shows up. Or shoeless if an animal does.

I wade out and then shoot off, “Look Back at It” playing as I swim out to the middle of the small pond. Another smile I can’t hold back spreads across my face.

This feels good. The cool water sends chills over my body, giving me a sudden burst of energy, and I dive down and then come back up, my hair now soaked and slicked back.

Lying back, I float, the weightlessness and water in my ears making me feel alone.

But not lonely for once.

I glide my fingers under the water, my hair floating around me, and I smile again, because it’s the first time since I’ve been here that the world feels like a big place. It helps to get outside. To get lost a little.

I always forgot that.

A faint rumble hits my ears, and I lift my head up, treading water as I see a dirt bike pull up to the beach.

My face falls and my body tenses. Who is that?

He takes off his helmet, a dark blond head coming into view as his hair sticks up, kind of all messy-sexy, and it takes me less than a second to recognize Terrance Holcomb. Whom I’ve yet to actually meet.

“Hey,” he calls out, climbing off his bike.

I don’t respond. What is he doing here? I look and listen. Are they all coming?

He heads for the water, pulling off his boots and socks, and I realize he’s coming in. Keeping his jeans on, he walks into the pond, pulling off his shirt and tossing it back to the rocks.

He reaches down and scoops up some water, splashing it on his face, running it over his hair and down the back of his neck, and wetting his chest.

Loooooove the tribal tattoos. Wonder which tribe he belongs to. I almost snort.

He tips his chin at me. “How’s the water out there?”

“Cold.”

He dives in, submerging completely and heading straight for me. He pops up, splashing and smoothing his hair back, grinning.

I start moving off to the side so I can swim around him and get out.

“Relax,” he tells me. “Not everything with a penis is a threat.”

“Which is exactly what someone with a penis would say.”

“You’re Tiernan, right?” he says. And then cocks his head. “Terrance Holcomb.”

I pause, treading water. “I thought you all went to ride bikes.”

He smiles. “They went to ride. I snuck off.”

“You followed me.”

He must’ve overheard me say I wanted to go for a hike when we were all back at the house and guessed I’d wind up here? I start swimming for the shore.

“If you go,” he says, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get you alone again.” I turn my head, looking at him. “They’re very protective of their property.”

I stop and face him, my feet touching the ground now. “I’m not their property.”

“Everything on their property is their property.” He circles me, the water coming up to both our shoulders. “They live by different rules up here, Tiernan.”

As much as I’d like to argue with him, I think Jake, Noah, and Kaleb would agree with him. Jake’s warning about local guys. Kaleb sending me back in the house instead of letting me join them on the motorcycles. Noah and his possessiveness in town yesterday.

“What do you want?” I ask him, changing the subject.

“You’re Chapel Peak’s shiny new toy,” he tells me. “Just checking you out.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Yeah, that sounded cheesier than I thought it would,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Why?” I reply. “Toys are meant to be played with.”

His mouth drops open, and we stare at each other as the loaded words hangs between us.

And then, as if on cue, we both start laughing at the same time.

“That had extra cheese,” he teases.

Yeah.

But you seemed a little hopeful for a second there.

Neither of us make a move to get out, just continue to tread water and circle each other slowly.

“See any alligators yet?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes. “Huh?”

“In the pond,” he explains. “We have some in here, you know?”

Oh?

“No, actually, they left,” I tell him. “I did see some unicorns, though.”

He chuckles, knowing it will take more than that to mess with me. “Very good,” he says. “My ex totally fell for that one. She was so dumb she thought the District of Columbia was America’s new state.”

I slide my hands through the water, my body drifting back out into the pond again and him inching, getting closer.

His eyes zone in, intense as they calmly watch me, and my stomach flips. I know what he wants. Will he feel like Kaleb did?

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, his deep voice almost a whisper.

“Do you care?”

He smirks. “I think you need one.”

Please. Judging from the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t care if I were married.

And I’m not looking for an attachment. Maybe the Van der Bergs are right in how they live. They get what they need when they need it, and they don’t have to be held accountable, because they may as well live on the far side of the moon for six months out of the year. No woman—no sane person—wants that life. Perfect situation for them.

Maybe me, too.

“They go to town every Friday night,” Terrance tells me, inching closer. “To have some fun.”

I smile to myself. They don’t need to go to town for that. Town comes to them.

“They always get the prettiest ones, too,” he goes on. “Until now. The prettiest one they’ll keep home and to themselves, won’t they?”

I tense. He comes in closer, but I don’t back away.

“What if I were to come up here Friday night when you’re alone?” he says low. “Would you let me in the house?”

His body is so close, and I fist my hands in the water, because there’s an ache low in my belly that won’t go away, and maybe I should act. Maybe I should do something I would never, because I want to feel and because the ache has been there since my first morning here and the horseback ride.

“Would you want to have some fun of your own?” Terrance taunts.

I swallow, letting my imagination wander for a split-second. We could do it now, I guess. Right here, on the beach. Probably for hours before anyone came to find me.

The guys get their fun. Why shouldn’t I?

I’ll never see this man after I leave, anyway.

He swims into me, backing me up and walking into me. When I get only waist deep, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in.

I plant my hands on his chest. No.

His eyes drop, and he smiles at what he sees, and I look down, noticing my breasts visible through my wet bra, my nipples hard, little points.

I pull my arms up, covering myself.

Unlike last night when I couldn’t even summon the will to stop Kaleb’s mouth.

Terrance takes my face and pulls me in, but before I can pull away, motorcycles whir from somewhere in the trees, and we both jerk our heads toward the sound.

Kaleb and Noah race up and stop just above the rocks, Noah immediately kicking down the stand and jumping off.

“Get the fuck out of there!” he growls at me. “Now!”

I jump.

Noah heads down to me, and I look over, seeing Kaleb climbing off his bike with a…

A… gun?

Is he kidding?

Kaleb stands by his bike, staring at Terrance with his head tilted and his expression calm. A shotgun hangs casually at his side in his hand.

A shotgun.

They’re all out of their minds.

I scramble out of the pond, dripping wet as I grab my backpack and shirt off the ground. But as I dive back down for the rifle, Noah snatches it up and takes my wrist, pulling me after him. I stumble over the rocks.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Terrance whines behind me, and I look back to see him walking out of the water with his arms outstretched at his sides in a challenge to my cousins. “What are you gonna do with that, Kaleb? Huh?”

He grins as Kaleb loads a shell.

Shit.

Noah pulls me to his bike to climb on behind him. “Get on now.”

But Terrance pipes up again, and I hesitate.

“You’re not gonna be able to keep her to yourself,” he tells Kaleb and Noah. “She’s the prettiest thing we’ve all seen in a while, and I’m just trying to get in there before all the dogs start barking at your front door for a piece of that sweet little snatch.”

I cringe and Kaleb cocks his gun.

“Now, Tiernan!” Noah barks.

And I climb on, hugging my backpack and shirt with one hand and holding onto Noah with the other.

Noah starts the bike and turns it around as I hear Terrance’s voice behind me. “See you soon, Tiernan.”

And Noah races off, taking us back down the mountain.

But as we speed away, I look behind me one more time and catch sight of Kaleb still standing in the same spot. Staring at Terrance as he clutches the gun at his side.