“We can print some of those out at Walmart and hang them in the hallway. It will look great, and personal. You know, let the social worker see that you’re a real family.” I had a thought. “Let me take a close-up shot of your tattoo and we can use that one, too. It’s a tattoo that says you love each other.”

He made a face. “You make it sound so dorky.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I mean, it’s a very tough symbol indicating that you’ll kick anyone’s ass who messes with your brother. Is that better?”

“Definitely.”

By the time we got back to the house with more supplies I was already exhausted. Then we started tearing up the carpet, and I decided that I needed to find a career where I could just look pretty, because this shit was hard work.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, yanking on the piece Riley had cut that I was supposed to be rolling back. Sweat was dripping down my back, and the work gloves he’d given me kept slipping as I jerked the carpet.

“This was your idea,” he reminded me, using his boot to hold down one section while he tugged where he’d sliced with the knife.

“I was a fool.” An exhausted fool. I lay down on the filthy carpet to catch my breath.

“Man up.”

“I’m not a man.”

“I noticed.”

Well, that was something. I rolled onto my side and wished an ice-cold lemonade would appear in my hand.

“Men don’t whine as much as you do.”

Lovely. “You haven’t met my brother,” I told him.

“By the way, this is a perfect photo op,” Riley said. “You’re supposed to be rehabbing houses, right? Here you go. This way you can prove it. It might not be the exact same situation as what you told your parents, but it’s something.”

“Good call.” I dug my phone out of my bra. “Take my picture.”

“You keep your phone in your bra?” He took it from me. “Wow, this is sticky.” He wiped it on his jeans. “You might want to get off the floor if you want to look like you’re working hard.”

“Slave driver.” I peeled myself off the floor and then went back to rolling old carpet on my knees while Riley took a picture.

An hour later all the carpet was out on the front lawn for garbage pickup and we were in the midst of a dusty hell. Coughing and waving my hands in front of me, I threw open the windows, risking Riley wrath. I went over the floor with the broom to collect the piles of disintegrating carpet backing that had been left behind while Riley ripped out the boards that lined the edges of the wall, spiky nails sticking out of them. Another hour and we had mopped the floor and put the furniture back and it actually looked pretty damn good. The floor wasn’t perfect. It had grooves and scuffs in it, but it was a huge improvement over the nasty carpet, and it smelled clean and fresh.

I flopped on the couch. “I have to leave for work in thirty minutes. This is going to be a hellish night.”

“Sorry, kid.” He did look like he felt bad for me. “I can drive you to work.”

“Thanks. You’re going to take a nap when you get back, aren’t you?” I asked, feeling very envious.

“Probably not.” Then he grinned. “Okay, yeah, totally.”

But not only did he drop me off, he picked me up at eleven, when I was dragging ass. I laid my head on his shoulder and yawned while he drove.

“Poor princess,” he said, and it actually sounded sincere.

I fell asleep before we even got back to the house and didn’t wake up until he lifted me into his arms.

Whoa. For real? That woke me right up. “You don’t have to carry me,” I said. “I’m awake.” But I snuggled in closer to his chest. There might never be another moment like this to feel his body that close to mine.

“Babe, if someone is offering you a free ride, take it.”

He had a point.

“I’m too heavy,” I said, because that’s what we say as girls. We love the thought that a guy can carry us, but then we worry that he’ll start thinking with each step that you were way heavier than he expected and that maybe you should lay off the ice cream. It’s also maybe a slightly passive-aggressive way of seeking the reassurance we need. Toxic, sure, but it slipped out before I could stop myself.

But Riley didn’t play the game. There was no reassurance. He just said, “Shut up, Jessica.”

The words were harsh, but his voice wasn’t. If fact, when I looked up at him, I saw something that took my breath away.

When he set me down on the front step to open the door, I tugged down my shirt, which had ridden up, all sleepiness gone because I knew what he was considering. He wanted to kiss me.

I knew that look. It was unmistakable.

And I wanted him to kiss me more than I had any other guy who had given me that look.

“Don’t be mean,” I murmured.

He cupped my cheek with his hand and said, “The last thing I feel right now is mean.”

And despite the warm night air, I shivered in the dark, the feeble porch light glowing over us, bugs knocking into it.

“Good,” I said, and I smiled up at him.

For a few seconds, he just studied me, until I started to get nervous. What was he thinking?

I said, “What are you doing? Are we going in or just going to stand here all night?” If he wasn’t feeling mean what was he feeling? Riley wasn’t as easy to figure out as other guys.

“I’m wondering if I kiss you if somehow your father will know and smite me. That’s the word, right? Smite? Smited? Smitten?”

Smitten? No, that had not just come out of his mouth.

But my body started to tingle in anticipation, relief surging through me. He was asking for encouragement. I could do that, no problem, because I most definitely wanted him to kiss me.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I asked, completely confident he would now, with a little coaxing. “And no, you won’t be smote. My dad is a preacher, not God.”

“So what if I am going to kiss you? Are you down with that?”

“I’m good with it, but I thought you hated me,” I teased him, leaning on the door frame out of his touch, amused that he was asking for permission. It made me feel more confident, less at a disadvantage in that I probably liked him more than he liked me. “You said I’m like a little sister to you.” I wanted him to kiss me, but I also wanted to hear him say out loud that he was attracted to me. Hey, guys aren’t the only ones who need their egos stroked.

“Hate is such a strong word,” he said, reaching out and fingering the cross I wore around my neck, the one that had been a gift from my father for my sixteenth birthday. Pure gold. “I never said I hated you.”

Desire started to simmer as he leaned in close to me, as I anticipated the kiss I had somehow known we’d been heading toward all week, or at least hoping for. I opened my mouth and crossed my ankles, the tight ache between my thighs distracting.

Then he ruined it.

“I mean, I find you annoying and bratty, but I don’t hate you.”

Really? I tried to pull away, but he put his hands on the wall on either side of me, trapping my body against the house as he grinned at me.

“You’re an ass,” I said.

“I’m just being honest. Because you are bratty, even you have to admit that, but I also find you intelligent, sexy as hell, and strong. I like that you’ll take the public bus even though you have no clue what you’re doing and you’re scared. I like that you’re staying in this dump when you could probably call up Daddy and get money for a hotel, even if he doesn’t know where you really are.”

The last bit wasn’t even close to the truth, but I was too busy enjoying his compliments to correct him. Because Riley was right—I was all those things. I could be annoying and bratty, yet I liked to think I was somewhat smart, and I knew I was strong, tenacious. That he saw me for who I was did weird things to my inside that had nothing to do with sex.

“I admire that you’re willing to pitch in and pull up nasty carpet to help me keep my brother.”