Page 3 of Rebel Summer

“Why do you have a stolen golf cart? Whose is it?” I interrogated, hands at my hips.

Dax had the audacity to laugh even as his eyes trailed briefly down the length of my dress. “Every few months, me and some of the guys…uh…rearrange the golf carts on the island. Move them to different houses. But that’s all I should tell you.”

“That’s you?! They’ve been trying to catch you guys for months. My dad’s cart was moved to Larry Donald’s house last time. He was ticked.”

One side of his mouth pulled into a smile. “Guilty.”

Once the policeman had left my driveway, I flipped on the garage light and began nudging Dax toward the contraband golf cart. “Okay, well…bye. This has been fun.”

“Same time next week?” he teased, ignoring me to peek out the window again. “We could use another lookout.”

With muscles I didn’t know I had, I yanked him off the stepladder and pushed him toward the golf cart. “You have to go! My dad will be home any second.”

He stopped abruptly, and my body pitched forward, brushing against his shoulder before I pulled back like I’d been burned.

“Wait. The senator?” Dax asked, his tone growing elevated.

“Yes! Bye! I had a terrible time.”

“How exciting! Do you think he’ll shake my hand?”

I threw every ounce of strength I had against him as talk of my dad created a panic in my chest. “Go! I’m serious.”

He turned around to face me, mischief lighting his features. “You know, I’ve been meaning to mail him a letter about that new water bill.”

“No, you haven’t!”

“This will be great. It’ll save me a stamp.”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it, even as hysteria began to climb up my neck in the form of heated red splotches. Twenty minutes ago, I was leaving a ritzy ribbon-cutting ceremony. Now I was HIDING FROM A COP. Based on my current heart rate, a life of crime was not for me. I looked down to find that Dax’s hands were now on mine, counteracting my attempt at shoving him toward the cart.

Suddenly, he stopped resisting my efforts and allowed his arms to go slack, which meant that, without the resistance, I also went slack.

Directly into his warm chest.

My body froze, cocooned against a chest with a heart beating much faster than normal. Or maybe that was mine. Last I checked, we were fighting. We were always fighting. He loved to make me mad, and I loved to put him in his place.

Nestled against his chest was definitely not my place.

Our clenched fingers had yet to uncurl from their fisted embrace. His chest just felt so…warm. A direct contrast to the detached image he presented to the world. He didn’t pull away. Instead, it almost felt as though he inched closer.

“You want me to go?” Dax’s low voice sent my pulse skyrocketing.

I still hadn’t moved away from him. The feeling between us had shifted so quickly my head was having a hard time catching up. This was DAX. The biology partner I detested. The guy barely passing high school. Dax, who made me miserable in class.

He was trouble.

I just…didn’t know trouble could have such gentle hands. His fingers released mine to move to my neck, tugging the locks of my hair and coaxing my chin to lift. It was troubling to gaze into murky eyes that enticed and pulled and…convinced. When his darkened gaze lowered to my lips, a shiver nipped my spine. Trouble grew closer until he was a blur of lashes and softness. Troubling lips, brushing ever so?—

The side door flung open, slamming against the shelves lining the garage. We both jumped at the sound. Seeing who it was, I pushed myself out of Dax’s arms.

My dad stood there with my mom peering around his shoulder. My mom wore a new gown of hunter-green silk she’d bought for the occasion. My dad wore a striking gray suit and green tie to coordinate. They both wore matching expressions of shock that brought the whole ensemble to another level.

The senator’s voice wasn’t loud in anger, though sometimes I wished it was. To have the tone match the words would have definitely made things less confusing. His voice was soft, but his words were cold like steel. Like the knife I had metaphorically stabbed in his back.

“What is going on here?”

Dax ran a hand through his hair and took another step back.

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