“Jessie.”

I clear my throat and look up at Aidan. The grin on his face is smug, and I know that wasn’t the first time he had to say my name. “What?”

“Can I have my shirt, baby? I think I’m giving your sister heart palpitations.”

I glance at Sas. She’s still standing there, and I’m totally amazed she hasn’t pulled out her phone and snapped a picture to plaster absolutely everywhere. “Sure.” I throw it to him and drop my stuff in the laundry basket. “Sas? Earth to Saskia?”

She looks at me. “Why doesn’t he have a shirt on?”

“I thought you weren’t complaining.”

“You had sex!” my little sister gasps, pointing at me like it’s the ultimate sin.

“You can’t prove it.”

“Your hair looks like you got screwed by a blackberry bush!”

Aidan laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and, unfortunately, covering up his body.

I pat at my hair desperately before riffling through a drawer for a brush. “Okay, I’m not making any more excuses to you,” I reply, once all the knots are out of my hair and a glance at my reflection in the oven-door glass confirms I look human again.

“Mom!” Sas yells, heading for the front door. “Jessie had sex in her bedroom!”

“You would not believe that my parents are letting her get her learner’s permit next week, would you?” I ask Aidan, pursing my lips as I put my sandals on.

“I remember you being just like that,” he mutters, pulling his keys from his back pocket. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“In the truck or on the death machine?”

His grin is wide, reaching his eyes. “The death machine, of course.”

I sigh heavily, and I’m about to respond when I hear Mom say to Sas, “Darlin’, she’s twenty-four. She can have sex if she wants to have sex.”

“Oh no.” I stop, covering my eyes.

“But she had sex in the kitchen!” Sas lies.

“I did not!” I reply indignantly, looking at Mom. “I didn’t have sex in the kitchen.”

“Who had sex in the kitchen?” Dad asks out of his car window. “I can hear this conversation halfway down the street.”

“Jessie had sex in the kitchen! With Aidan Burke!” Sas tells him, hands on her hips.

“Say it a little louder, the bingo hall didn’t hear,” Aidan mutters into the back of my head, resting his hand on my hip. My lips twitch up even as I deny it again, this time to my dad.

“She’s just annoyed because she saw him without his shirt and played dead like a little meerkat,” I explain.

“You’re such a bitch!” Sas fumes.

I roll my eyes.

“Saskia,” Dad says, “that’s enough. And as for the kitchen, well, how do you think you happened?”

“And that’s the part where I say bye!” I grab Aidan’s arm and pull him past my angry sister and laughing Mom.

Of course, he’s laughing, too, but I stop, horrified, when he calls, “We didn’t have sex in the kitchen, sir. I promise!”

“Oh my God!” I stop us at the gate and stare at him, and I’m undecided whether I’m angry or trying not to die of laughter. It takes some serious balls to say that to my father. “I’m sorry, you’re never allowed in my house. Again. Ever,” I settle for.

He swings his arm around my shoulder, still laughing, and pushes the gate open. “Just don’t tell your sister that.”

Aidan

“Don’t tell her? Are you kidding me?” Jessie looks at me. “I’m going to put it in neon lights and superglue it to her bedroom. She’s a brat.”

“I already told you—so were you at sixteen.”

“I was eighteen when I rejected you.”

“And you were still a brat at eighteen,” I continue, fighting my grin and dropping my arm. I hand her a helmet, but she just stands, staring at it like it’ll come to life and chase her off a cliff. I raise an eyebrow and put it on her head for her when she still doesn’t move and she glares at me. “And you’re still a brat now,” I finish, buckling it under her chin.

“I hate you.”

“Watch it. I’m about to drive the death machine.” This time I let myself grin at her and get on the bike. I nod my head behind me, and after one final glare that’s betrayed by the amused purse of her lips, she steps up and swings her leg over. “Hold on.”

She wraps her arms around my waist and slides forward so she’s completely against me. Her fingers curve into my shirt, gripping me tightly, and I start the bike. She feels so small yet so strong behind me, even if I can feel her hands shaking against me as I pull away.

The roads are clear, and it takes just a few seconds to get out of town. I turn off onto the road to take us into Percival Town, where the late fall fair is being held—complete with Halloween costumes in honor of the holiday this weekend. I didn’t plan on going, but when Sofie and Conner said they were taking Mila and Tate wanted to take Ella, I figured agreeing was easiest. Especially since even Kye said he has a date for it, and we’re not even talking yet.

I didn’t want to bring Jessie. I mean, it’s fucking lame. She went to this thing as many times as I did when we were kids. She doesn’t need to bob for apples or get a candy apple or shoot darts for a damn goldfish. But then again, I didn’t exactly want to fuck her again either.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew what would happen if I did. I knew I’d remember everything—how she tastes, how she feels, how she sounds—and I knew those memories would mean something more than before. I knew they’d make me just a little addicted to her, more than I am. ’Cause I can feel it. This warped desire to be around her, spend time with her, see her smile, hear her laugh.

I’m no amateur. I’ve had relationships and been in love once upon a time, and I know that’s how it starts. Little fucking pangs of wanting to see the other person to soothe the ache inside. Screw that. I’m not Tate or Conner. I don’t have a kid to think about and the girl I want isn’t my PA. I couldn’t uproot someone’s life and expect them to spend half the year in Los Angeles and the other half on the road, only coming home intermittently. I’m not that guy.

I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, expect Jessie to do it. But then again, she’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t like me, and the idea of falling in love with me is the best joke she’s heard since I asked her to prom.

“You know,” Jessie says after I stop in the designated parking lot and kill the engine, “I assumed that if I ever got on the back of a bike, it’d be because there’d be a handsome, rugged man driving it into the sunset. Not a two-bit rock star who once serenaded me for prom and gave me a black eye driving it to the local fall fair.”

“Two-bit rock star?” I lift off my helmet and look at her. She grins and shakes her hair out and hands me the helmet. “I’ll have you know, sunshine, that there’s nothin’ two-bit about me, and I’m pretty damn handsome.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. The handsome part. I haven’t had enough experience of your skills to agree on the two-bit. I know you’re good with your hands, but are you good with your mouth?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s brave, saying that here.”

“What?” She mirrors my expression, faux innocence in her eyes, and holds her hands out to the sides. “You can play the drums, but can you sing? What did you think I meant?”

I get off the bike and walk to her, tapping her nose. “I know exactly what you meant, and so do you. Your innocent act sure is cute, but it’s a load of bullshit. Ain’t nothin’ innocent about you, Jessie Law.”

“I take offense to that.” She starts walking. “I am incredibly innocent. I didn’t break your nose after you hit on me.”

“You sure have a lot of violent thoughts.”

“Does that scare you?”

“Should it?”

“Only if they’re directed at you.” Her smile is wide and playful, and she knocks my arm. “Then, yes, it should. Run for your life.”