I rolled my eyes back at him, but before I could answer, he continued, "He's real handsome, isn't he?" "Yes. Yes, he is." "You think he uses that face to get girls do his homework?" I scowled at him. "Bet all the girls say yes. I know I would," he said, grinning. "Dad! Seriously." "Hard worker too," he continued, warming up to the subject. I narrowed my eyes at him. "How did you know that?" "Cameron comes over almost everyday this week to help me paint the gym." "What?" I sputtered. I sat up straighter, eyes widening on his face. I didn't know why I was surprised. My dad had mentioned he invited Cameron to help him paint the gym, but to know that Cameron followed through and helped my dad... "I told you I invited him. He just showed up this week. He doesn't say much, does he?" "No," I choked out. "He doesn't." "Some nights he'd come looking so exhausted I thought he was going to pass out. Almost had to beat him up to know the reason why. If you want to hear more, eat more." He gestured toward the sandwich again. I took a huge bite, another, then sipped tea. He smiled and continued, "He finally told me he's doing a reno and has a deadline. But he'd still come by, help me paint. Couldn't make him leave no matter what I say." I was reeling a little. I knew how tired construction work was. I'd seen my dad do it when I was younger. And for Cameron to help my dad after that was... What was this feeling? My chest felt hot, full. "I figured if a boy is that desperate to impress a girl's dad, he's allowed to have a few hours to hang out with you. And has decency in him not to try any funny business. He didn't, did he? Where are you going?" I grabbed my cardigan, put it on. Brushed my hair, uncapped my cherry lip gloss, slid it on my lips. A little mascara, a spritz of perfume. Then I turned to my dad, kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best." He grinned at me. "Tell your boyfriend I said hi, Kara Koala." *** The lights were off in Cameron's house by the time I stopped my car on his street. I could have parked in his empty driveway, but I wanted to relive the first day I talked to him. The night when I was trying to sneak inside his yard. I let out a small laugh as I strolled to his front door, shivered a little when I remembered the attractively dangerous look on his face when I told him that Dylan was the one who'd broken his bike. It seemed a long time ago. The wind whispered behind me, but it was pleasantly nice. Feeling warm, I sat on the porch steps and tried to unzip my jacket. The zipper was stuck. I was in the process of battling with it when I heard the sound of a purring engine. I looked up just as a truck pulled up in the driveway. The driver's side door opened, and I watched as Cameron climbed out. The long legs appeared in my view first, and as I looked up the torso and brawny arms, the attractive neck and sharp jaw. My pulse went on overdrive when our eyes met. I hadn't seen him all week unless I counted that night in my room, which I didn't. No words were even said between us that night. It felt more like a dream. The sight of him made me feel all warm inside, tingly as though my heart already knew it was going to exercise today. I saw a white hard hat, safety glasses and a neon visibility vest that I'd seen construction workers wear on the passenger seat before he slammed the truck door closed. Traces of mud were in his dark hair, on his cheeks, his arms, his clothes, and his shoes were caked with it. He was grubby from work. And damn I had no idea why I found that so sexy. He leaned back against the truck, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and glanced down at me where I was seated. His face didn't give me a clue what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? I figured I deserved it after the way I acted. I had pushed everyone away. I was too sad, then too mad, then too confused, and after a crying jag, I felt empty. I needed a break from everything in life. And now that I was done with my self-imposed purgatory, I couldn't go a single moment without seeing him. I missed him. I missed Cameron. "Hi," I croaked. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained quiet, just watching me. My skin prickled with awareness. His size alone was intimidating, but the way he used his silence—as his defense, as his weapon, whatever struck his whim—was even more so. And damn effective. It excited me. "Kara." I swallowed the nervousness down. I missed the way he says my name. I missed his words, his voice. The way his hands moved, the way he controlled the strength in them when doing a task. I missed the way he was with me, and the way I was when I was with him. I was obsessed. It was like the damn had broken, and all the things I was suppressing this week came flooding out. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I wanted to see you." He placed his hands in his pockets, still watching me. His eyes, as they often do when they focused on me, flashed with longing for an instant before the emotion was gone. Maybe before I would've doubted him, walked out, or thought that his silence or seemingly lack of a response meant he didn't care, but I knew him more now. He was a man who preferred to show more than tell. The parts of him that he had revealed were as appealing as the parts of him that he kept hidden. More. Without a word, he stepped on the porch, opened his front door, and waited for me to enter before following me and closing the door behind him. Inside it was dark and silent. Slashes of light penetrated through the window to the hardwood floor. And in front of me was an irresistible man. His face was cast in shadows, but I could feel his eyes on my skin. Even after being apart, especially after being apart, I could feel the strong pull between us, felt the air pulsate with it. My heart started to race. Slowly I stepped forward, stopped a few inches from him. But that wasn't enough. I wanted to feel the sinewy lines of him, the hardness of his body. "Don't come any closer," he whispered. "I'm filthy." "I don't care. Let me—" "No."