Page 20 of The Summer Intern

"Ukuleles?"I barked out a laugh, crowding him backward without thinking."These kids want to get messy and wild, to chuck water balloons at each other, not harmonize on cute mini guitars."

He stumbled against the corner post, pine resin and the scent of his shampoo flooding my senses."You're impossible," he spat, but his trembling lower lip betrayed him.His furious blush was doing something to me, the way his pale cheeks now matched his cotton candy hair.He was a sexy mess, his skin dewy with sweat, eyeliner smudged from the hard work, his hair sticking out in all directions.My fingers itched to wipe the shimmering residue beneath his lashes.

"Not all kids are the same.You're so cocky, always making assumptions."

"Am I?"My voice dropped as I caged him against weathered wood, forearm braced above his head."Or are you just pissed I'm right?"

Sunlight caught the gold flecks in his widening eyes.I counted three freckles along his jawline I'd never noticed before, constellations begging to be traced.His throat begged for my touch, my lips.It was long and elegant, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"The only thing you're right about..."His whisper ghosted over my chin."...is needing better ventilation in here.Your Axe body spray's melting my retinas."

A surprised chuckle punched from my lungs."Axe?I don’t use cologne.That’s handmade soap scented with cedarwood and citrus, you heathen."

"Smells like regret and middle school locker rooms to me."His pinky finger hooked briefly in my belt loop - accidental or calculated, I couldn't tell."Also, are we just ignoring the fact that your 'legacy wall' includes someone's questionable rendition of...is that a hedgehog?Or a testicle with a lot of hair?"

"Porcupine," I corrected, leaning closer.His breath hitched deliciously."Painted by an eight-year-old.You want to criticize that too?It's children's art."

For a heartbeat, I thought he might surge forward - those petal-soft lips parting, eyes darting to my mouth.Then he ducked under my arm, all prickly bravado."I want functional electrical outlets that don't spark when you plug in a phone charger!"He brandished a battered hot glue gun like a sword."And decent scissors that don't squeak like dying mice!"

I snatched the glue gun."Careful," I murmured, thumb stroking his knuckle."Wouldn't want you hurting those pretty hands."

Our fingers brushed, and he jerked back as if electrocuted, his sweater sleeve catching on a protruding nail.The ripping fabric sounded like a gunshot.We both froze, staring at the jagged tear exposing his entire left arm and his pale, finely muscled shoulder.

"Shit," I breathed.“Are you okay?"

Casey tore off the sweater and examined the damage with impressive calm."Well.Now it’s ventilated."His smirk didn't reach his eyes."Add 'clothing mutilation' to Eagle Ridge's long list of charms."

He shivered, and without thinking, I shrugged off my flannel.The air chilled my bare arms as I draped it around his shoulders."Here."

"I don't need-" he began, but I was already rolling up the too-long sleeves, fingertips grazing his collarbones.His pulse was rabbit-quick under his silky skin.

"Just keep it."I stepped back, shoving trembling hands in my pockets.“It's raining and 50 degrees outside, and I'm not bothered by the cold.It looks better on you anyway."

He clutched the plaid fabric closed, small beneath its bulk.When he met my gaze, something raw flickered behind his carefully curated snark."Anything looks better on me.But this is decidedly not my style."

“Want to give it back, then?”I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, noting the way his eyes darted down to my shoulder muscles as they flexed.The raw hunger in his eyes told me the muscle tee was the right choice.

“The shirt is warm,” he hedged.“But I wouldn't need it if you had heating in this shack.”

The air between us crackled like live wires as I took another step forward, and Casey’s back hit the wood-paneled wall behind him.My forearm braced against the wall beside his head, my other hand trembling as I let my fingers play against the collar of his tank top, stopping when my palm rested against his throat as I wondered what it would be like to kiss his soft, pink lips.He stared up at me, gasping softly, his eyes wide, pupils blown out with unmistakable lust.

His pulse raced against my palm.

“Enough griping,” I growled, my voice rougher than intended.“You think I don’t care about these kids?That I’d let them work somewhere unsafe?”

Casey’s chin jerked up, pink strands catching sunlight filtering through dust motes.“I think your nostalgia’s blinding you.”He shifted and his knee brushed mine—accident or provocation, I couldn’t tell.“That mural’s gorgeous, but what good’s art if—”

My thumb smoothed over his jaw, chasing its shape.I could feel the vibration when he swallowed.“One.Goddamn.Time.”Each word came out tightly strung, my control unraveling faster than I could reel it back.“Try seeing what’s here instead of what’s missing.”

His laugh sounded punched-out.“Says the man who rebuilt the entire housing system, but won’t replace the warped floor.”Casey’s laughter died against my palm, replaced by a ragged inhale that made his chest rise sharply.His throat worked under my grip—not fighting, just...The realization hit like ice water.Why the fuck did I have my hand around his throat?It was decidedly sexual, and some sort of harassment.My fingers sprang open and I took a step back, instantly missing his warmth.

“Shit.”I stumbled back, sneaker crunching over a dried paintbrush someone had abandoned last season.“Casey, I’m—”

He moved faster than I’d ever seen him.One second there were three feet of warped floorboards between us, the next his hands fisted in the collar of my tank top, dragging me down.His mouth crashed into mine with enough force to knock me back a few steps.

Cherries.Chapstick, maybe, and a hint of mint gum.His lips were softer than they had any right to be, parting with a quiet hitch of breath that went straight to my groin.I froze—camp director, employer, fucked-up adult who shouldn’t be doing this with his college-aged arts coordinator.

Then his teeth caught my lower lip.

---