My father’s face turns red. “You know you’re forbidden to go to places like that.”

“Yes, Daddy. I know I was forbidden to go to places like that. But that was before I went to college, became an adult, and got a job out in the real world.”

“Just because you’re a few years older doesn’t make places like that any more appropriate. Or the people that frequent them.” I say nothing. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this. “Who were you with? Who took you to that hellhole?”

I grit my teeth. This will just be icing on the cake. “Jake Theopolis.”

“Laney, I’ve told you—”

I interrupt my father’s blustering. “I know, I know. You don’t think he’s good company. You don’t think he’s the right kind of friend to have. You don’t approve. Well, you know what, Daddy? I like him. He’s kind and he helped me when I needed it today. And I think you’ve misjudged him.”

“And just what would Shane think about you spending time with someone like that?”

He thinks that’s what will cinch up his argument. A veiled threat to tattle on me to my fiancé.

Ha! He’s my ex-fiancé!

“I don’t care, Daddy. And it doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to tell you that we broke up?”

“Well, until you give me a good reason, I’m not giving up on the two of you. Shane’s a good man. The right kind of man. Good for you. You need to hang on to him. And cavorting about with a person like Jake Theopolis could ruin what you have with him. And I won’t stand for that. Someone has to look out for you, do what’s best for you.”

“Maybe so, Daddy. But you’re not it. From now on, I’m the only one that’s looking out for me. And if I ever find someone I feel like handing the reins over to, I’ll be sure to let you know. But until then, back off!”

With that, I whirl away from my stunned parents and storm up the stairs and to my room, slamming the door behind me.

If they want a teenager back in the house, I’ll give them one!

* * *

Between that devilish drink I had at the Blue Hole, the drama with my parents, and the miniscule amount of sleep I was able to get after it, I’m tired and cranky by the time I drive back home from Jake’s Monday.

As I pull up in front of the house, I wonder absently why Mom’s car is parked on the street at the curb rather than in the garage. When nothing comes to mind right away, I shrug it off and grab my stuff from the passenger seat to head inside.

Something wonderful teases my nose when I open the door. I inhale deeply, feeling better already. “I’ll be back down after I change clothes, Mom!” I call, aiming my voice toward the kitchen as I head for the stairs.

In my room, I dig through my still-packed suitcase and pull out some yoga pants and a T-shirt with a rip at the neck. I’m hoping my most comfortable clothes will bring me good luck. Maybe my parents can just leave last night where it belongs—in the past.

Maybe.

I hope.

I jog back down the steps and make the right that will take me through the dining room and into the kitchen. I see the table is set. Quite formally, actually. I think back for a second to any plans Mom might’ve told me about, but I come up with nothing.

Again.

I stop dead in my tracks after one step into the kitchen. My mouth drops open and all thought flies out of my head when I see what’s waiting for me.

Or, rather, who.

Sitting at the island, still dressed in his work clothes, is Shane. My ex fiancé. The man I have no desire to see or speak to ever again.

At first, I’m just confused. I look to Mom then to Dad, asking, “What’s he doing here?”

Shane stands and walks to me, reaching out to put his hands on my shoulders. I flinch at his touch, backing away from him. “Laney, we need to talk. And your father thought this might be a good time for us to do that.”

His voice is well-modulated, purposely made to sound reasonable and confident. But all I hear is the voice of a liar. Of the man who broke my heart and betrayed me. With my best friend.

I’m flooded with disbelief. This can’t be right. My parents would never, never be so manipulative and inconsiderate.

I lean to look around Shane’s shoulder, expecting to see some sign of outrage at his lies. Or at the very least something to show me that he was gravely mistaken.

But that’s not what I see at all.

I see the support of my parents. But not for me. For my ex fiancé.

It’s an ambush.

“You did this?” I whisper, addressing my father. My throat is closed around a knot so large it feels like a fist. “Please tell me he’s wrong. Please tell me this is just a misunderstanding.”

My mother has the good grace to bow her head. This obviously wasn’t her idea.

My eyes slide back to my father, standing tall and proud and unapologetic behind the island. Behind Shane.

“How could you?” I can barely squeeze out the words, but I know they are easily intelligible in the absolute quiet of the room.

“I can’t let you make a mistake with that Theopolis boy that you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

With an ache in my chest that feels like a raw and bleeding cavern, I turn away from my father. “The only two mistakes I’ve made, Daddy, are trusting Shane and coming back here.”

Without a backward glance, I retrace my footsteps back up the steps, throw my few toiletries back into my suitcase, grab my purse, and go right back out to my car.

As I’m pulling away from the curb, away from the home and the people that seem barely recognizable to me right now, I have no idea where I’m going. I just know I can’t stay here.

TEN: Jake

I’m tired. Not from overexertion like I might’ve been after a forty-eight-hour shift in Baton Rouge. No, this is from boredom. From being static for the better part of two days. It’s no wonder there’s only a dozen guys on the entire fire department force here. There just isn’t enough activity to keep many people busy.

I worked an extra eighteen hours, bringing my total to sixty-six hours straight. I was hoping to at least get some kind of call where I could exercise my response skills, but no such luck. It was just . . . quiet.

Damn.

Since it’s the middle of the night, I figure I’ll get a few hours’ sleep then get up and go for a run. At least working here at the orchard is a little bit stimulating. There’s more to do than eat and play cards and watch television.

I stretch my neck as I pull into the long driveway that leads to the house. I’m missing Baton Rouge and all its excitement and activity, right up until I see the dusk-to-dawn light shining on a familiar blue car parked in front of the garage. The sight pushes Baton Rouge—and every other desire, for the most part—to the very back of my mind.

“What the hell is Laney doing here at this hour?” I ask out loud as I recheck the dashboard clock to make sure I’m not missing something.

Nope. Sure enough, it’s three o’clock in the morning.

I park beside her car and make my way quietly into the house. There are no lights on, no signs of life, which makes me wonder if maybe she had car trouble and had to have someone pick her up and drive her home.

That’s possible. But, even though I can’t imagine why, it’s still also possible that she’s asleep in my house right this minute.

Where I was tired before, now I’m wide awake. And feeling all kinds of stimulated.

Silently, I mount the stairs and stop at the top of the steps to look around and listen. There are no sounds, and nothing seems out of place.

Except for the fact that my bedroom door is closed. My dick twitches behind my zipper as all manner of lewd, hot scenarios involving me and Laney flit through my head. I bite back a groan and take a deep breath before moving on down the hall, in complete stealth, toward my door.

I twist the knob and ease the door open. There, lying in a shaft of moonlight with her platinum hair spread out over my maroon pillowcase, is Laney, fast asleep. The covers are pushed down to her hips, leaving her entire upper body exposed. She’s wearing a form-fitting tank top that hugs her chest so tight I can see the outline of her nipples. They make my mouth water. And from what I can see, the only other thing she’s wearing is a pair of light-colored panties.

I debate the best course of action from this point. The right thing to do would be to shut the door and leave her undisturbed while I go sleep on the couch. But that’s not what I want to do.

As I stand in the doorway staring at Laney, I remember our kiss at the Blue Hole. We have unfinished business. And that business is what has me throwing the “right thing” right out the window, in favor of the thing I want.

Laney.

It only takes me a few seconds to strip down to my boxer briefs. She’s lucky I’ve been bunking with a bunch of guys for the last few days, or else I wouldn’t be wearing any.

As gently as I can, I peel back the covers and slide in beside her. I can feel her body heat radiating toward me under the sheet, warming my legs. My c**k throbs with the desire to part her thighs and sink into her like I sank into the mattress—slow and easy.

I fold my hands behind my head, grit my teeth, and close my eyes, counting to twenty-five in an effort to get my body back under control. I hear Laney shift beside me right before I feel her hand sneak across my stomach. She drops one leg over mine and snuggles in. I wait a few seconds before I lower my arm and cup her shoulder with my hand. She sighs, and I relax against her.

But then I feel her stiffen.

I know the instant she comes awake. It’s like her whole body goes on alert, even though she hasn’t moved a muscle. Her hair tickles my chest as she raises her head to look up at me.

“What are you doing?” she asks softly, as though she’s not quite sure she’s awake.

“I’m going to bed. What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“I can see that.”

Her brow furrows like she’s still working all this out. Her blue eyes are heavy and I can see her struggle to push her way through the cobwebs. She’s trying to find her way to wakefulness and reality.

“Are you really here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you should be at work and I could be dreaming.”

“So you dream about me?”

“Yes,” she replies candidly.

“Are they good dreams?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Mmm, would you like them to be real?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about now?”

Her eyes search mine before they drop to my mouth. That tells me at least part of what she dreams about—kissing me. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Were you dreaming of my lips?” I ask, keeping my voice low so as not to fully wake her. I know what her answer is; I just want to hear her admit it.

Gently, I roll until she’s on her back and I’m hovering over her. I brush my lips over hers, using just enough pressure to tickle her, tease her.

“Yes,” she sighs, her minty breath fanning my face as she relaxes back into the mattress.

“How about my tongue? Were you dreaming about it?” I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue, dipping inside only long enough to make her want more.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans in answer, tilting her face up in open invitation.

“Do you dream about it here?” I ask, flicking her earlobe with my tongue. I descend to her collarbone, easing my fingers under the thin strap of her top. I feel her fingers push into my hair, and I know I’m getting warmer. “Or do you dream about them here?” I pull one side of her top down until her creamy breast and pink nipple are exposed. I draw the pebble into my mouth and feel her fingers clench into a fist, tugging on my hair. “Mmm, you like it there, huh?” As I tease and suck her nipple, I slip my knee between her legs, parting them a little farther. “What about here? Do you dream of my tongue here?” My hand glides down her flat stomach to the damp material between her thighs.

I knew they would be wet.

“Yes,” she breathes heavily.

Moving the cotton to the side, I slide one finger between her slick folds. “I bet you dream of my tongue here, don’t you?” I ask, caressing her wet skin.

Her answer is more of a moan, but it speaks just as clearly as any words. I move down to kiss her bare stomach. “And here,” I whisper as I ease my finger into her. When her muscles squeeze, I can’t hold back a groan. “Oh, shit, you’re so tight!”

She moves her h*ps against my hand and I can feel her body sucking at my finger, begging me to fill it with something bigger, something harder. But as much as I want to do exactly that, I want her to be fully awake and fully consensual for it. I’ve never had sex with a woman who wasn’t aware of what was happening. And although I can feel how willing her body is, I want her mind to be on board, too.

“Laney, you know this is real, right?” I ask, reluctantly stilling my hand and looking up past her luscious nipple to her passion-filled face. “You’re here with me, in my bed, and I’m getting ready to make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name. Tell me you want me to do that.”

Her eyes are wide and very much awake, but now that I’m giving her an out, I can see the indecision rushing in. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing beneath me.

Why the hell did I do that? Fu—

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, interrupting my thought and confirming my suspicion. “I can’t think straight around you, and certainly not when you’re . . . touching me.”