Page 22 of Her Property

“You actually jumped into water like this!” she gasped. “You’re insane!”

Jake laughed. “So are you, now.”

Cat’s whole body screamed at her to turn around and walk out.

But she didn’t. She willed herself to stay put and meet Jake’s gaze.

“Who’s the daredevil now?” she asked.

He stood agape as she began walking like a stork in the frigid lake, making splashes of water fling out around her.

It would have been perfect if she hadn’t lowered her foot onto the smooth, slippery rock nestled in the mud under her feet.

But she did, and her heel slipped across its slick surface. Then she went down.

Jake

Jake took the turn off the highway towards Alfred’s property too hard. Catherine jostled in the front seat, making a little squeak as his hoodie slipped off of her again.

This time his hand stayed on her arm, holding her steady.

“You warming up at all?” he asked.

“I’ve never felt b-better,” Catherine said, not looking at him. Her arm shook under him.

Jake cursed himself again. It was his fault she’d gone under. Jake had been too far away to catch her as she fell, and had to watch helplessly as she plunged into the icy water. He’d run to pull her out, peeling off her sopping coat as they ran to the truck. He’d ripped off his hoodie and wrapped it around her, holding her against him for a single, glorious moment.

Then the shock wore off, and she’d started shivering.

What the hell had he been thinking? He’d only wanted her to try to do something alittlecrazy—he’d wanted her to know what exhilaration felt like whenshewas in control. Talking to her, he’d gotten the strong sense that she’d had some big thing or things happen to her that weren’t her choice. Flipping that around could be powerful—he knew from the work he’d done. And it was going to be a core component of what he would help kids with at the camp, with the help of the clinical psychologist he’d secured to lead the programming.

But he’d set Cat up to lose control again.

Jake reached for the heat dial, as if he hadn’t checked it a dozen times already to make sure it was at full blast.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you.”

“It’s not your f-f-fault,” Catherine said.

“It’s entirely my fault. I—”

“No!” she said, cutting him off. The word was emphatic. She looked at him now, and though she was shaking from cold, her gaze was steady. “I w-w-w-wanted to go in. I needed to go in. If I hadn’t s-s-slipped, I might have jump-p-ped in myself.” She gasped then, as if the effort of speaking had been too intense to breathe.

It was his fault.

They pulled up outside Alfred’s lake house—a place until this afternoon Jake thought of as the mouth of hell. Now, he wanted nothing more than to pick Catherine up and carry her through the threshold. He wanted to peel her wet clothes off of her, and god help him, even though he should be thinking only of getting her safe and warm, he wanted to peel his clothes off too. To hold her against him, pressing her chilled body against his until he brought her up to steaming.

Jake cut the engine, and the heat that had been blasting from the vents died.

“I need to get you warm,” Jake said, opening his door.

“I can warm m-m-myself up,” she said, but he was already over to her side.

When he opened her door, he shook his head. “You can barely finish a sentence.”

“I’ll b-b-b-be f-f-f-fine,” she insisted, but as she reached for the door handle to help herself out of the truck, she missed and her hand—and damp bandage—banged against the handle.

“Shit!” she exclaimed. The bandage hung loose, the freshly stitched and swollen wound exposed.

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