“We should get going,” he said softly, exerting the slightest amount of pressure to pull her forward. As though he wanted her next to him. As though he wanted her lips as much as she wanted his. “Before we get into trouble.”
She looked up, knowing he was right. If she stayed out here much longer, she wasn’t sure what would happen. She could feel the pulsing of her body, the blood coursing through her veins in every spot where he’d touched her. She reluctantly moved away and walked steadily toward the dock, taking all her concentration to do so. She fetched her towel from the edge of the platform, only turning when she heard him move behind her. The red-striped towel clutched at her chest, her eyes vulnerable, but she didn’t see the boy she hated any longer. She saw Tristan. A guy who all the girls wanted, and who was misunderstood by the masses. He wasn’t the self-centered heartbreaker she’d always thought him to be. He was kind, he was thoughtful—and he was the first boy who had ever said she was beautiful.
They walked back to the cabin in silence, but it was a different silence. Because under the surface was something else. A shared secret; a kiss she vowed to remember for all eternity.
The porch light was still on, like it was earlier, but so much had changed since they left. She’d walked out that door as an innocent girl, and come back with that part of her missing.
He walked ahead of her up the steps, pausing a moment before pushing the door open. As if he was waiting for something. For her to stop him, for her to tell him it was a mistake. But she remained silent, and eventually he walked into the house ahead of her.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” he said, as he held the door wide for her to enter.
She ducked under his arm, careful not to get too close, then nodded. Because for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything else do. Her mind was still mush, her pulse still racing. She tightened her grip on her towel and chewed her inner cheek. Because God help her, she was completely unaware of what happened next. Did they talk? Not talk? She looked up to the loft, where Renee’s faint snore still traveled down the staircase. Guilt washed over her and she turned back to Tristan.
He stood against the closed door, his face intense, but his body relaxed like always. She wanted to explain, to tell him she should never have let it happen. But before she could, he pushed himself from the wall and walked down the steps to the basement. He didn’t say a word, and was gone from sight before she could even comprehend his leaving.
But he left the door open—just a crack, and she knew what it was. An invitation for her to join him—and she couldn’t stop staring at it. Her stomach flip-flopped, and her knuckles became white where she clutched her towel too hard at her chest. It was an invitation for another kiss. To get to know the man she’d never allowed herself to truly see. But as sure as she was about the invitation, as sure as she knew he wanted her to take it, she couldn’t do it.
She turned toward the stairs, not allowing herself to think about what happened. Not allowing herself to wonder what would happen if she were to follow him down to his bed.
She fetched her pajamas from her suitcase, slipped them on, all while hoping and praying Renee wouldn’t wake. She climbed into bed on the queen-sized mattress, thinking she’d just made it, when her best friend turned around and grumbled in her sleep.
Renee’s expression was groggy and tired, and she slowly opened her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked, with a voice full of gravel.
“Almost eleven,” Samantha whispered.
Renee closed her eyes, but her lips transformed into a reluctant smile. “Those girls from the lake came over tonight,” she whispered. “Just a little while ago.”
Samantha’s throat went dry, and her stomach churned with sour grapes. They told her. They told Renee what they saw. Told her about her and Tristan.
Renee rolled to the nightstand and grabbed a red and white can of soup from the bedside table, before turning back. “They brought me this,” she said, shaking the can half-heartedly in her hand. “Chicken noodle.” She studied the label, tracing the words over and over with her fingertip. “Do you want to guess how long it took them to ask about Tristan?”
Samantha shook her head, her eyes shut as hot tears threatened to spill through her lids. A thousand excuses rushed to her mind, but none of them were good enough. None of them would make a difference. She’d kissed Tristan willingly. She’d kissed her friend’s brother, and the only reason she’d stopped was because those girls had interrupted them.
“Do they think I don’t know?” Renee asked, her head tilted to one side as her face filled with disgust. “Do they think I’m so stupid that I don’t realize what they’re doing?” She placed the can back on the end table, the frustration and emotions oozing from her skin. “I’m so sick of people being nice to me just to get to my brother.” Her voice was harsh and broken, but there was something else there, too. She was defeated.
Samantha pulled in a sharp breath, realizing what her friend was telling her. That those girls hadn’t told her what they’d seen in the woods. In fact, they’d probably come from seeing Renee when they found her and Tristan on the rocks.
Renee closed her eyes, sandwiching her hands beneath her head and pillow as she faced Samantha. “At least I have you.” She yawned. “The only person I can trust.”
A hundred bricks landed on Samantha’s shoulders. She knew exactly what Renee was trying to say. Because up until this point, Samantha was the only girl who hated Tristan as much as she did.
“Will you get the light?” Renee whispered then.
Tears burned in Samantha’s eyes, but she nodded and turned to switch off the light.
“Night, Sam,” Renee said in a groggy voice.
“Night, Ren,” Samantha whispered back, squeezing her eyes shut, but the tears fell to her cheeks anyway. Right now, she thought to herself. Right now would be the perfect time to confess. To let it out. Right now, before it festered. But she couldn’t. She flipped over, facing the stairs that would take her back to Tristan’s, and more tears slipped down to her cheeks and fell to her chin.
“I love you,” Renee whispered through the darkness. Her voice was half asleep, so quiet Samantha would’ve never been able to make out the words had she not heard them a million times before.
She swallowed, barely able to contain her own sorrow. “I love you too.”
Chapter Seven
Present Day
She looked into his eyes, her heart pounding. What did she remember? Is that what he wanted to know? Her eyes shifted to the pavement, where the “I dare you” in the question didn’t feel quite so loud. “Not much,” she said softly.
He flashed one of his panty dropping smiles and adjusted his stance. “Well that’s good.”
She titled her head to the side. “Is it?”
“Yeah.” He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and relaxed. “I don’t remember much about you, either. This trip would have been extremely awkward had you remembered me.” He looked to the open trunk and moved his suitcase over a few inches. “The good news is, we have three thousand miles to change all that.”
Her heart pinched at his easy grin and she adjusted her stance. It shouldn’t have affected her. Especially when he’d confessed to not remembering her just the second before, but he was so damned attractive she couldn’t help it. The reaction was much like her mouth watering at the scent of a lemon, or her nose retreating when she smelled something foul. It was one of those involuntary actions she had no control over.
But she still didn’t like it.
Especially when she knew what happened when you got too close to Tristan Montgomery.
She looked back toward the sculpture, trying to regain composure. “I have a lot of reading to catch up on,” she said sweetly, then turned toward the sculpture and squatted down to get ready to lift. “I’m afraid getting to know you isn’t one of my top priorities.”
He grinned slightly, raising his brows as he grabbed the other end. “Suit yourself,” he replied, lifting, and moving the sculpture toward the trunk. But then his eyes narrowed, as though he was aware the tension between them was not one of strangers.