“But you do roller derby,” he said in a gentle voice.
“Ah,” she said, holding up her index finger to make her point. “The seeming contradiction. But see, I’ve always skated, and it’s indoors, and there are no rocks, or dangerous currents, or cliffs to fall off of. And I like to be active, so skating seems the more reasonable risk. But that’s also why I’m a blocker, not a jammer.”
He raised an eyebrow in a question.
“Blocker is defense. Not as many injuries. It’s the safer position.”
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “So you avoid things like zip lines and lakes and cliffs to stay safe?”
She parted her lips to speak but stopped to gaze at the wood of the overhang, and truly considered her answer. “I suppose so. I like life. I like living. I want to keep it that way. Seems I have the greatest chance if I can minimize risk by not, say, parachuting or rock climbing or anything else that might shorten my life.”
“It might. It also might expand it,” he suggested.
A tiny bead of defensiveness zipped across her. “Are you saying I don’t have an expansive life?”
He shook his head. “No. Hell no. I just think there are reasonable risks and unreasonable ones, and you have to know which ones can enrich you.”
“It’s easy for you to say. Your whole job is about risks.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I know. And I fucking love it.”
“And I love helping kids at risk avoid more dangers in life,” she said, matter-of-factly. She turned philosophical. “Funny, how both our jobs are about risk. But in very different ways.”
He held his arms out wide, tapping an imaginary point with each hand. “That’s true. It’s like we’re triangulating a problem. Approaching it from different sides.”
Something about his analogy was so very Colin, and it amused her. “You really can see everything through the veil of math, can’t you?”
He laughed deeply, flashing a big smile as he did. “Guilty as charged.” He leaned forward. “So why did you come this morning, since you clearly had no intention of kayaking?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Last night as she’d returned home, she’d held tight to the notion of embracing the fun parts of their arrangement. She’d believed she was seizing the day and biting off a whole, yummy corner of a delicious chocolate cake. But the morning had rolled around, and she’d wanted something else.
Something she couldn’t even name.
“I don’t know,” she said softly, holding out her empty hands. “I think I just wanted to surprise you, even though I don’t want to go kayaking, Colin.”
He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed lightly. His touch was like turning on a light switch in a basement. It flickered briefly then started to light up the dark. Her heart fluttered for a moment, then settled into a peaceful rhythm. “Maybe some days you’ll want to kayak and some days you won’t, and whatever you want is fine by me,” he said. It sounded like a metaphor, and somehow it left her a little sad, a little wistful.
The waitress arrived and set down their food. He dug in. “This is some fucking badass steel-cut oatmeal right here,” he said, and she laughed as she bit into her toast.
When they were done, he took her to her car and kissed her good-bye, a fierce, hot kiss that felt different from the night before. Perhaps because it ended at that—just a kiss.
Maybe that was the answer to why she’d been compelled to get out of bed and drive to Black Canyon at dawn. This trip had never been about kayaking. Perhaps she’d come to see if they could have this kind of moment—without contact, without lust, without ripping off clothes.
She wasn’t sure why she’d needed to know this. She was well aware that this brief affair with Colin existed solely in the bedroom. But still, some part of her had been curious, and she’d needed to scratch that itch.
She’d scratched it, right?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Colin: That thing you want me to do to you…
Elle: I’m all ears.
Colin: Come over tonight.
Colin: I mean, when can you come over? (See my attempt to be all polite rather than just demand your body, even though you want me to just demand your body)
Colin: Let me rephrase. When can you come over so I can make you come countless times on my face?
Elle: I’m sorry, what did you say? I was suffering from an intense bout of text message–induced lust.
Colin: I have just the cure for that.
Elle: You are the cure for all my lust.
Colin: Excellent. Let’s keep it that way. So…tonight?
Elle: I want to, but can’t. Busy with the boy. But my mom offered her services tomorrow night¸ so let me get back to you on a time. Actually, she offered her services anytime I want to get serviced by you!
Colin: You better not get serviced by anyone but me.
Elle: As if I need anyone else’s services.
Colin: Also, that is an awesome offer. You should take her up on it.
Elle: I know. I’m lucky that she wants me to have a booty call. Though, I don’t want you to think I’m only into your body. You have a nice brain, too. And you’re fun. :)
Colin: Why thank you. I’m honored you’ve noticed more than my cock. So does that mean you’ll grace me with your presence for, say, Thai food after said booty call? You know, since that’s fun. :)
Elle: As long as I can order the super-spicy, burn-your-tongue-off pad Thai.
Colin: Like I’d order anything else.
Elle: I can’t wait…for pad Thai and that thing I want.
Colin: Hmm…Can’t remember now…what is that thing you want?
Elle: What you said to me in the stairwell.
Colin: I think I remember. You wanted a back rub, right?
Elle: Yes. Absolutely.
Colin: Or was it a foot massage?
Elle: Please. I can’t wait for you to touch my toes.
Colin: Or maybe, it was something else? Refresh my memory, please.
Elle: Braid my hair. I want you to braid my hair.
Colin: Ah, yes. I am going to braid it so good you sing my name to the heavens.
Elle: You’re on.
* * *
The face was eerily familiar.
Colin nearly stopped in his tracks as he rounded the corner on his way to the game room at the center. That guy. Walking toward him. Colin had noticed him shooting hoops a few times. He’d seen him in a math tutorial a couple of months ago.
But he’d also seen him in a photo on Brent’s phone.
His eyes widened as he studied the guy heading in his direction. That was the dude who’d been stalking his twin sister. Brent had taken a picture of him outside Shannon’s home one afternoon more than a month ago.
What the hell?
The hair on his neck stood on end. A primal instinct to protect his flesh and blood kicked in. He wanted answers. Wanted to know why the fuck a teen at the community center had been parked outside Shan’s house…more than once. The guy had dark eyes, dark hair, and ink covering his right arm. He wore jeans. His boots clunked on the linoleum floor.