Colton said. “I shouldn’t have...”
His discomfort only made her feel worse. “It’s okay.”
“Come back in, I don’t bite. You probably need a little downtime, too.”
Dueling desires warred within her. To go, to stay, to allow him to bite her. Goose bumps burst in hot prickles all over her skin at the thought. Biting! She’d never even been kissed. Yeah, at fifteen, she was unkissed.
Total freak.
“So, you go to school down the hill or something?”
Down the hill encompassed every place that wasn’t the surrounding mountains. London had learned that from Shay. “No,” she said, coming inside so she could make her own slide along the wall. They were propped on opposite sides of the small structure, London situated closest to the still-open door. “I’m sort of being homeschooled at the moment. I have a live-in tutor.”
Colton released a low whistle as he drew up his knees and draped his wrists over them. In the low illumination from the flashlight, she stared at his hands. They were long-fingered and bony-looking. Not like a skeleton, just...bony like a boy’s hands. Like a boy’s hands should be.
“How’s that?” he asked. “A live-in tutor? No dozing off during class, I suppose.”
“No.” If pressed, she’d probably admit she liked Shay. Yes, there was the dusting and the vacuuming and the Western civ book, but the woman had also been tolerant of her name experiments—which seemed even stupider now that Colton Halliday said he liked London.
Shay paid attention, too. She was the only one to ever notice that when it came to bubbling test answers, London had a peculiar technique. The first time she’d turned in a score sheet, Shay had taken one look at the paper then tossed it back. “Love the long-stemmed rose,” she’d said drily, noting the pattern London had made with her No. 2. “Now put your efforts into answers, not illustrations.”
“Finals are coming up at the high school,” Colton said. “That’s what my parents are on my case about. Studying. Hell, I can’t wait for summer.”
“What will you do then?”
“Hang with friends, swim, hike. I have a part-time job scooping ice cream, too. Gotta save for college...only a year away.”
Meaning he was going to be a senior next year. That seemed way older than her.
“What about you, England?”
“I’m—” She stopped herself from blurting out fifteen.
“Hey, I thought you liked London?”
His grin glowed again, seeming to light up the whole room. “I like ‘England,’ too, since I came up with it. My special name for you.”
Another riot of goose bumps bloomed over her body. “That’s all right, I guess.” It was better than all right!
“So...are you going to be around this summer?”
She shrugged, trying to play it casual. “Sure.”
“Then maybe we’ll see each other again.” Colton rose to his feet. “I gotta go now. Chemistry homework due tomorrow.”
London stood, too, pressing her shoulder blades against the wall to hold herself up because her knees felt wobbly as he drew near. “See you around, then,” she said as he passed through the doorway.
“Yeah, see you.” He turned, walking backward as he looked at her, the moonlight silvering his hair. “How old are you, England?”
“Seventeen,” she replied, without a single betraying quaver in her voice. It didn’t matter that it was a lie; it was her next foray into the life she’d been waiting to begin.
Fifteen-year-old London, who’d lost her mother and only just met her father, was an outcast, that freak she’d always felt like. But London, nicknamed “England” by a handsome, soon-to-be high school senior, was the master of her fate and the captain of her soul.
And surely, surely seventeen.
SHAY BUSIED HERSELF at the sink, swishing the dishcloth in the soapy water contained by one of the mixing bowls she’d used in preparing the evening meal. The chicken enchilada dinner had gone okay, she supposed, and she was relieved that she and Jace—his real name—seemed to be of the same mind.
The mind in which the Deerpoint Inn didn’t exist.
Or, at least, of the mind that they weren’t the same two people who had spent a night there together.
If the three of them were going to share the house for the summer, Shay’s relationship with London’s father needed to be polite, professional and impersonal. Surely she could manage that.
Then, even with her hand buried in the warm water on a warm night, a cold fingertip trailed down her spine. She froze, her prey-sense kicking in. Someone was behind her.
Lifting her gaze to the window over the sink, she saw a man reflected in the glass. His height, his breadth, the very masculine mass of him seemed to press the air from the room. Her heart skipped as he strode inside on silent feet until only the expanse of the stainless-steel-topped island separated them.
Calm down, Shay admonished herself. He’s no predator. He’s nothing to you, not even that attractive man at the bar who was so charming at dinner and so blissful in bed.
As a matter of fact, he was the kind of man she wouldn’t find appealing at all. Upon learning of his ex’s death, he’d made exactly one phone call to his daughter and then left her in others’ care—without another word for weeks. Sure, Shay was self-aware enough to know she had a chip on her shoulder when it came to paternal issues, but anyone would agree that Jace should have maintained tighter contact since becoming London’s sole guardian.
“Where’s the kid?” he asked now, his voice low.
The sound of it—damn—reminded her of the night before. His voice, both rough and soft in the darkness as he murmured against the skin of her throat, as he whispered in the hot shell of her ear. Your breasts fit perfectly in my hands. Open your mouth for my tongue. Spread your thighs. Let me feel your wet heat.
“Shay?”
She jumped, and shook herself free of the memories. That man was not this one. The lover had been attentive and generous. This...stranger was neither of those things. “London is in her room, I believe.”
“Look at me, will you?” he said. “We need to talk.”
No, they didn’t. And looking at him, looking into those lion-gold eyes, wasn’t going to put them on that all-important professional footing. Maybe tomorrow, with more time and distance since they’d shared kisses, breath, a bed, she would have her armor intact and her memories safely locked away.
Maybe she could fully face him
