With his words ringing in my head, he crushes his lips against mine again, threading the fingers of one hand into my wet hair as his other hand presses my hips against his.

It’s not until I hear a delighted squeal that I remember we aren’t alone.

Reluctantly, I pull my mouth away from his. My thoughts are foggy. I can’t think right with him touching me, kissing me, talking to me this way.

Dazedly, I look around, prepared to be mortified. But no one is paying us any attention. Jake had enough sense to pull us to the bend at the edge of the cove, practically hidden from the view of the others.

“Don’t worry. They can’t see.”

“I know, but still . . .”

I lean away. The spell is broken. This conversation, this moment deserves privacy. Of course, privacy could mean that we’d get carried away. And I’m not sure yet just how far it’s safe for me to let Jake carry me. I’d thought there was no danger of me getting attached to him, but as I look at his handsome face and think of the great care and consideration he’s shown me today, I worry that Mr. Wrong might start to feel like Mr. Right.

My shorts are finally dry. Well, Hannah’s shorts are finally dry, I should say. After Jake and I got out of the water, we sat on a log in the sun to let our clothes dry. It took just long enough that my head finally began to clear.

And indecision set in.

Am I really capable of engaging in even the most casual of relationships and banter with a guy like Jake? Earlier, I definitely thought so, but now . . . It seems that no matter how badly I get hurt or how much fun there is to be had on the “other side,” I’m still the same girl at heart. Some like it wild, but not me. At least not forever. I still want the same things. A man to love me more than anything. A man to put me and our family first. A man to build a life with. And I’m not crazy enough to think that Jake is that guy.

I might be crazy enough to wish he was, though.

I notice the low position of the sun and start to feel guilty about running off the way I did, without so much as a word to my parents. Yes, I’m an adult, but it was a really inconsiderate thing to do.

“I think I should probably head home,” I say to Jake when the music dies down again. Saltwater Creek has played intermittently since we arrived, and they’re actually quite good. I don’t really want to leave yet. The thought of curling up next to Jake, after dark, in front of the fire I can see them building on the beach area, is extremely tempting. But . . .

Jake is agreeable about leaving. He doesn’t seem to have any preference for staying or going.

He’s quiet on the drive home, but I don’t think that really says much. I get the feeling he’s not one for small talk.

It’s fully dark by the time we reach town. “You know, you could just drop me at my parents’ house if you wouldn’t mind. I can get one of them to take me to my car in the morning. It’s getting late.”

Jake shrugs. “Okay.”

“It’s not far from here.”

“I know where you live.”

“You do?”

“Everyone knows where the preacher lives.”

He falls silent again. He guides the Jeep competently through the turns that lead to my street. I study him surreptitiously from beneath my lashes. The sharp angle of his cheekbones and the sculpted edge of his lips are highlighted by the soft glow of the dashboard light. He doesn’t seem mad or upset, or inconvenienced. He just seems like . . . Jake.

Handsome, charming, sexy Jake.

Jake who sets my blood on fire. Jake who I can’t get out of my head.

“Home sweet home,” he says lightly as he parks at the curb in front of the house I grew up in.

I grab my rumpled clothes and purse from the floorboard and reach for the door handle. “Thanks, Jake. I had a good time.”

“My pleasure,” he replies.

He seems . . . off somehow, but I can’t put my finger on it. I want to ask, but there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t, why I shouldn’t even care.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.” I start to climb down, but Jake’s voice stops me. “Oh, wait.” My heart speeds up in anticipation. Jake cuts off the engine and pulls the keys from the ignition. He works one free and hands it to me. “Here. I won’t be there for a few days. It’s a round-the-clock shift at the fire station. Let yourself in, make yourself at home. Call my cell if you have any questions about anything.”

I take the key from his fingers. “How will you get back in tonight?”

He waves me off. “I didn’t lock the door. Besides, we have a spare key hidden in one of the barns.”

I nod and give him a small smile, feeling bereft that the night is ending like this. So cool. So casual. So disappointing in the face of what happened earlier.

You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Besides, you should be pleased. Jake Theopolis is a complication you don’t need.

“Sweet dreams, Laney,” Jake says as I’m shutting the door. I look back, but he’s already pulling away.

But I could’ve sworn I saw him grinning, and that elevates my mood considerably. That seems a little more in character for him. Enough to bring a delighted smile to my face.

I’m still grinning in pleasure as I walk through the unlocked front door of my parents’ house. When I shut it behind me and hear nothing but unnatural quiet and the tick of the mantle clock in the living room, my guard goes up immediately.

There’s trouble brewing.

Quietly, I creep toward the steps. I feel like a teenager again, trying to avoid a confrontation that will end in a lecture and then me being grounded for all eternity.

Only I’m not a teenager. And I’m beginning to resent that I still feel that way when I come home.

“Laney, can you come here?”

My father. And I recognize that tone.

My stomach drops.

Curling my clothes into a tighter ball, I straighten my spine and walk to the living room. I smile casually when I stop just inside the doorway. “What’s up?”

Both my parents look like I’ve just slapped them across the face. And they’re both staring at my wad of clothes.

“Laney, what on earth?” Mom asks, holding a hand to her throat like I just announced I’m pregnant or joining a cult.

“Where have you been, young lady?” Daddy asks.

“Out.”

I know such a short answer will only incur more questions and more wrath, but I’m still feeling a bit defiant from the taste of freedom I’ve enjoyed all day.

“Out where? And with whom? And whose clothes are those? Because I know they’re not yours.”

“And just how do you know that, Daddy?”

“Because my daughter would never dress like that!” he booms.

“And what’s wrong with this? I’m not showing anything inappropriate. And, for what I was doing, this was actually quite concealing.”

Mom gasps.

“And just what were you doing?”

“Swimming. Is that a problem?”

“Where?”

“A place called the Blue Hole.”

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.”