“Good.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

This way,” Ricky said as we tromped down the steps to the forest’s edge. “There’s something I want to show you. No, wait. We’ll do that later. First, there’s something over here.”

I bit back a laugh. He sounded like a boy showing off his special spots to a new friend. He shot a grin over, as if he knew that and didn’t care, wasn’t worried what I’d think. He grabbed my hand, fingers entwining with mine.

“I know the way,” he said. “Even in the dark. I used to come out here sometimes, at night. Just . . . those nights. Like tonight. When it seems as if . . .” He tugged me along into the woods. “I’d wake up, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d go out and spend the whole night out here, looking.”

“Looking for what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What did your dad think of that?”

“Sometimes he’d be up, too. I’d come out, and he’d be on the porch. He’d stay there, but I’d get the feeling he didn’t want to, you know? That he’d rather be out here, but . . . he made himself stay on the porch. He’d let me come out, though, which is one of the reasons I loved this place. He could be damned protective in the city. But here? It was like nothing here could hurt me. He’d still call out, now and then, and I had to shout back, but otherwise I had the run of the place. Even at three in the morning. City rules didn’t apply.”

Our first stop was a waterfall. A tiny one, the stream dropping over a boulder, but at night the moon caught it just right and the water sparkled. That wasn’t the only thing that sparkled, either. When I looked over at Ricky, crouched on the other side of the stream, his eyes danced, and gold flecks in his irises glittered in the moonlight, and I thought for a moment that I’d seen that before, the light catching his eyes a certain way. I didn’t pursue it; I just watched him.

He bent and waggled his fingers under the falling water.

“Cold?” I asked.

He flicked some my way. The droplets flew onto my bare skin.

“Mmm, yes,” I said. “Definitely cold.”

I scooped up a handful of icy water and splashed it on my face, letting it drip down my chest. That glint in Ricky’s eyes turned to a much more familiar one.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“Even dripping wet?”

“Especially dripping wet.”

I reached both hands into the waterfall and splashed water on my face and chest. It didn’t matter if it was ice-cold and the night wasn’t much warmer. It felt amazing, that burn and bite like wind on a motorcycle, my skin blazing hot beneath the droplets. When I looked at my hands, the moonlight made the water sparkle.

Ricky stared. Then he rose and started toward me. His sneaker clomped into the water as he stepped in the stream.

“Watch out,” I said. “You’ll get a soaker.”

“Don’t care.”

I backed up. “You should. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Old wives’ tale.”

“Are you sure?”

His other sneaker came down in the middle of the stream. “Don’t care if it’s not.”

I stepped back, and when I did, that glitter in his eyes grew brighter.

“You like that,” I said.

“Like what?”

I moved back more. His eyes glowed now, and his breath quickened.

“Mmm, yes,” I said. “You do.”

“Come here.”

“I don’t think you want me to.”

He moved forward. “Oh, yes, I do.”

“No . . . I think you’d rather work for it.”

“Work?”

“We’re out here to enjoy the night, aren’t we?”

A predatory edge in his smile set my pulse racing. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“And you will.” I moved into the forest. “After we take a walk.”

“Pretty sure I don’t want to walk anymore.”

“Then you’ll have to convince me you have something better in mind. But first . . .” I ducked around a tree. “You have to catch me.”

His grin then was nearly blinding as he lunged at me. I whipped around and tore into the forest.

—

The woods were too thick here for actual running, so it was more hide-and-seek, which would have worked so much better if Ricky hadn’t moved through the forest like a damned guerrilla sniper. After he nearly caught me a third time, I checked to make sure he hadn’t put on moccasins and night-vision goggles.

“How the hell can you see me?” I said as we circled a huge oak.

“You’re right there.”

“Hiding. Behind a tree.”

“Not very well.”

He lunged. I zipped around the tree.

“This game would be much more fun if you weren’t so freaking good at it,” I said as I stayed out of reach.

“Oh, I still think it’s plenty fun.”

He lunged again, and I took off, dodging trees and jumping logs. I looked for clearer ground, where I’d have an advantage. Ahead, moonlight streamed through a break in the tree cover. I ran for it. Then I glimpsed a shadow . . . in front of me. I stopped short. A flash of blond hair told me the shadow was Ricky before he disappeared behind a tree.

“How the hell do you do that?” I muttered.

He only chuckled.

“You have the home turf advantage,” I said, turning toward the source of that chuckle. “You know the shortcuts. I’m probably running in circles.”

“Maybe.” His voice came from behind me now and I wheeled, catching a flash of bare chest before he backed off, attack averted.

He went silent then. I pivoted slowly, trying to catch a crackle of dead leaves or snap of a twig. But all I heard was the sigh of the wind and rustle of leaves. I knew he was there, though, circling me, watching for an opening, and as soon as he had it, if I didn’t notice in time to escape . . .

Heat shot through me. Of course, the obvious answer would be to not escape. Let him catch me. Get what I wanted. But the point of the game was that building anticipation, which was damned sweet.

As I turned, searching, I swore I could sense him circling, catch the glitter of his eyes through the trees, hear his breathing, coming faster now, the slight catch of it as he . . .