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‘You hated me.’

‘I thought you hated me.’

‘I hated how you hid in plain sight, and nobody knew you were there. I hated how you were treated. I hated how you looked through me, how you didn’t want to see me.’

My hands flutter between us. ‘You looked out for me. You were kind. I see that now.’

‘That was when we were kids.’ He takes my hands and tangles our fingers. ‘What do you see now?’

A month ago, I hated Summerfield. A month ago, I hated him. Now …

I stand on my toes and lay my hand against his cheek, and he leans into my palm. When I slide my thumb over his mouth, he wraps his arms around me.

‘I like your hair short.’ My voice is croaky. ‘I like it long too.’

He brushes hair from my face and kisses my mouth as the rain falls all around us. A hard kiss. A soft one. A searing, searching, fiery kiss that grasps my heart and holds on tight. I tug his buttons and burrow under his shirt to find his skin and the warm hard strength of his body. He opens buttons on my dress and kisses my neck, trails his lips down my collarbone. He sets off a desperate needy tingling from my breasts to my thighs.

‘Cameron …’ My voice is up and down a scale. ‘Can we go somewhere else?’

‘First you have to tell me,’ he murmurs against my mouth, breath as unsteady as mine. ‘What do you see when you look at me?’

I search his handsome face in the way he searched mine. ‘You’re still Cameron, but you’re different.’

Groaning a little, he rests his forehead on mine. ‘You said you didn’t want serious.’

‘I don’t know what it looks like.’

‘It doesn’t look like anything.’ He speaks quietly. ‘You feel it.’

‘Like I’m supposed to feel Christmas?’

With a sigh, he steps back, but when I sway, he takes hold of my hands. ‘I’ll tell you what I feel.’

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’

‘At school, you were smart and brave, but now there’s more. You’re accomplished and modest. You’re generous and sweet. When you smile, when you cry, when you’re confused, like you are right now, there’s no one more beautiful. That’s why I want you.’

I force words through the lump in my throat. ‘If you want me, why can’t we go to your house?’

‘Last time we got close, you ran. I need to know you won’t do that again.’

‘I’m only here for three more weeks.’

‘You can take my hand, kiss my mouth, use me as a windbreak if that’s all you’re ready for. I want you to communicate, to tell me what you’re feeling.’ He leans in close, presses his cheek against mine. ‘You have to give me something to hold on to.’

Chapter 18

I’m rolling over in bed to turn off the light when I hear a tap on the door.

‘Cameron. Are you there? It’s CJ.’

By the time I scramble to the end of the bed, Keith Urban is at the door and wagging his tail. I take two rungs at a time down the ladder. When I open the door, CJ, arms wrapped around his body, blinks. His eyes are red and his face is blotchy.

‘I saw the light,’ he says. ‘I forgot you were here.’

‘What’s the matter, CJ? It’s after ten. How did you get here?’

‘I rode my bike. Cam isn’t here, is he? He’ll be at his house.’ CJ, tears now streaming down his face, backs away. ‘It’s late like you said. I’ll go home again.’