Page 7 of Dirty Dare

Breathe, two, three. Breathe, two, three. Breathe, two, three.

Keeping an eye on the shore, I watch for Outlook Rock and then follow the inlet that wouldn’t be visible without the light of the full moon. The water changes, calming, and I look up to find the ten square feet of floating dock that is my turning-around point.

In the mornings, I circle it once and head straight home, but tonight? Hell, apparently, I haven’t had enough torture. So instead, I plant my hands on the weather-worn boards and propel myself up—

“Fucking wha—”

The startled shout followed by the rocking of the raft have me splashing back into the water mid-breath. I come up hacking so hard I’m probably only catching about a third of the profanities spilling from above in a stream so steady, my next cough turns into a laugh as I push my goggles off and try to choke out an apology.

“Jesus, Cam?”

Meaty shoulders and a head in silhouette come into view as a muscular arm thrusts out, locking with mine.

It’s not him. It can’t be him. Not here.

Except I know the deep timbre of that voice. And while the blond is muted by the night, there’s something as familiar about the way the overlong mess falls around those heavy cheekbones as what’s happening in my chest.

“Trev?”

That head above me starts a slow, disbelieving shake. “Holy shit, man, you scared ten fucking years off my life.”

And before I can think too much about it, the grip on my forearm tightens, and Trevor hauls me up onto the platform like I’m some ninety-pound, top-of-the-pyramid cheerleader instead of six-foot-four of reasonably solid dude. It’s nuts.

My ass hits the wood, and the balmy night air warms my skin.

I take a breath and man up, forcing myself to wipe the lake from my eyes and look back to see who else is on this derelict swim dock I’ve always thought of as mine, or ours.

Only there’s no girl trying to keep decent, just the man who got away, standing a few feet back… looking more than a little uneasy.

Shit. “Hey, sorry, man. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

What the hell is he doing here?

But then, I glance up at the house and see what I missed swimming in. The warm glow of lights cutting through the trees of a property that, to the best of my knowledge, has been unoccupied for the last two years.

“I— I rented it from Finch for a month this summer.” He lets out a strained laugh and takes a step closer, which still leaves half a dozen feet between us.

“Cool. That’s great.” I grip the back of my neck, hating the way every awkward second is systematically stripping away a memory so precious to me, I can barely breathe through it. “Let me get out of your way, here.” I swallow. “Now that I know you’re here, I’ll swim in the other direction.”

I slide my feet over the side, the cool water doing little to ease the burn of too many things within me. I’m about to drop back into the lake when a warm hand meets my shoulder before abruptly pulling back.

“You don’t have to go. Yet. I mean, you could hang out. Catch up a little.” He takes a quick breath that has me slowly turning around. “Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party.”

Resisting the urge to ask what happened with Laura, I shrug. “Too many people for me after a long day.”

He clears his throat and steps closer, and I swear there’s a shift in the air around us. He gestures to my right. “Mind if I?”

“It’s your dock,” I say, aiming for light, but my nerves make it come off kind of dickish. So I quickly add, “But yeah. Take a load off.”

There’s a glint of teeth like maybe he’s smiling, and then that big hockey body that is definitely bigger than it was the last time I saw it— touched it —drops down beside me, leaving an ambiguous space between us.

It’s not close enough to touch. Not a come-on, that’s for sure. But not so far it feels like he’s making a point either. He’s just there, a few inches away, on the dock where we had our first kiss four— or maybe four million —years ago.

And that’s got to be why he wants me to stay.

This spot is private. Safe. It’s the perfect place for a pro athlete with a career on the rise to ask if I’d mind keeping that one time he dipped a toe into the rainbow under wraps.

When he opens his mouth though, it’s not to beg for the privacy I’d give him whether he asked for it or not.

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