CHAPTER 39

The “guesthouse” is unlocked. I walk quietly inside, but there’s no point in tiptoeing because the sound of Miles, kicking the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, is so loud it echoes off the walls. The only thing homey about this guesthouse is the fireplace. There’s a kitchen in one corner and a couch shoved up against a wall, and blue exercise mats cover nearly the entire surface of fluffy white carpet.

The punching bag Miles is currently murdering hangs in the far corner. Miles lays another kick into it. Sweat trickles down his forehead. I jump when he kicks the bag again. It’s so loud the house vibrates.

“Dominic won’t give me anything. Won’t even hint at him and Simon. Keeps making up lies to cover everything.” Another kick, this time with the left foot. “Never mentions the psycho that’s harassing him, and if I ask him about it, my cover’s blown and I risk ruining everything…damn, this fucking sucks—”

He’s on the verge of exploding or a breakdown. I grab the swinging bag and wrap my arms around it. “Enough. Before you break a bone.”

He lowers his leg to the floor, but tension still ripples over him. “My parents send you out here?”

“I volunteered. But they looked worried.” I release the bag and step in front of it. “Why don’t you just tell them? Tell them what we’re doing. That the FBI doesn’t seem concerned with new information. They could probably help.”

“I want to.” Miles lifts his T-shirt and wipes his forehead with it, giving me a nice view of his abs. “But they seem so happy that I’m doing well. I hate ruining that.”

“What about your handler? Can you talk to him or her confidentially?”

“That’s who I told.” He looks poised to start attacking the bag again, but then seems to notice me. All of me. “No shoes in the guest house. Mr. Lee’s rule.”

I bend over to pull the boots off my feet. “And where is Mr. Lee?”

“In Miami,” Miles says. “Living the retired man’s dream. He visits sometimes, though, and checks the mats for shoe prints. This used to be his place.”

I unzip my coat and toss it beside the boots. The few seconds of silence is enough to set Miles back on the “beat the hell out of something” plan. I step between him and the punching bag. “You’re right. The Dominic situation is infuriating. Knowing he can tell us exactly when Simon left his house, what state of mind he was in, what their parting words were… He’s got it on lockdown, so much that he must be willing to risk everything to hold those secrets. Even the truth about Simon. I can’t imagine how that’s making you feel, but maybe giving your mind a rest, getting away from it all, will give you perspective. You just have to let it go. For now.”

“Right.” He exhales, looks away from the bag. “Theory of incubation.”

“Exactly.” I smile, relieved he’s always so easy to reason with, even when he reaches such high boiling points. “Your parents are home, and everything we do this weekend is giving that part of your brain a rest and making room for the perfect solution.”

“Everything we do,” he repeats, giving me a look that warms my insides. “Like your self-defense lessons.”

Not exactly where I thought he would head with that. “Why do you want me to learn self-defense? Obviously your dad has his reasons, but you seem to agree…? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good at talking my way out of things. Probably better than I’ll be at fighting anyone.”

“Davey,” Miles says. “That’s why. He saw you, knows what you look like, knows where you live. I should have never—”

“You didn’t mean for that to happen,” I tell him.

“My dad said the same thing.” Miles gives me a tiny smile, but it vanishes quickly. “But it did happen. And you—you’re so…you’re just…I’m…”

“Speechless?” I tease. “What happened to the guy who practically invited me into the shower this morning?”

He breaks out of his funk and rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s get started with your first lesson.”

I look down at my sweater and leggings. “I left my ninja girl costume at home. What would Mr. Lee think?”

Miles finds that wicked grin and flashes it at me again. “He’d tell you to ditch the sweater.”

“And he’s back.” I shove him. “Mr. Lee sounds like a dirty old man.”

But since I have a tank top on underneath, I follow orders and ditch the sweater.

“Okay,” Miles says, standing in front of me. “Show me your best kick.”

“You want me to kick you?” This is never a method I’d use to get my way. “Where? In the balls?”

Miles winces. “Preferably not.”

I have no idea what I’m doing, but I lift my leg anyway, thrusting it at him. My foot ends up in his hand. He lifts it just enough to flip me flat on my back. I land with a thud, the wind knocked out of me. “Yeah…no…I don’t like this game.”

“I’m not going easy on you because you’re a girl.” He shrugs but at least offers me a hand. “I fight girls at my school all the time.”

Unfortunately for me, I have a competitive streak. One that makes me want to beat these girls who get to roll around on the mats with Miles.

Once I’m back on my feet again, Miles says, “Try punching me.”

I shake out my arms and wait until he’s not expecting it and swing my right fist at him. He catches it easily, just like he’d done with my foot. With a quick turn of my wrist, I’m facing outward, my back pressed to his front.

“I’m beginning to think you’re setting me up for something.” I attempt to break free, but his hold on me is too tight. “What’s the point of this?”

“The point,” he says, his mouth right beside my ear, “is that you’re overconfident sometimes.”

I elbow his side, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “And you want to put me in my place. Thanks for that.”

“I need you to be afraid,” Miles says, so intense his voice sends a chill up my spine. “I saw you that day with Davey, when he got close to you, when he looked at your earring. You were afraid. Right now, I want you to imagine that moment again, but this time imagine you’re alone. No Dominic, no me. No Harper keeping an eye on you from the window.”

My heart races, my breaths coming quicker.

“Good,” Miles says, obviously reading my body language. “Imagine you’re walking somewhere, in the dark, and you get that feeling like you’re not alone. A guy like Davey…he’d corner you alone, try to talk to you first, and then he’d make a move…”

My body tenses, but I force myself to listen to him, let him keep scaring me. I don’t want him to think I can’t handle this. But maybe he’s right—maybe I can’t.

As if reading my mind, Miles says, “You can handle him. I can teach you how. But no playing around, no jokes in the training room, wherever that ends up being. You have to focus. You have to trust me. Can you do that?”

The way he’s talking to me, the emotion in his voice… Outside of Harper and Aidan, I don’t think anyone has ever cared this much about me. Not even my own parents.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean into the arms holding me so firmly. It isn’t fair that I can’t be this person he thinks I am. This person his parents seem to think I am.

“Miles?” My voice shakes, but I still plunge forward. “Why haven’t you asked me about my family?”

He’s known for a long time that the story about my dad kicking me out wasn’t true, so why hasn’t he asked about them? Does he suspect something bad and doesn’t want to ruin whatever this thing is that we have?

Miles releases me and turns me to face him. He leans against the back of the couch. “Lawrence asked me not to.”

I stare at him, bewildered by this. “And you just listened without question?”

“He said it was important. Why wouldn’t I take that seriously?”

The weight pressing on my chest grows even heavier. “I don’t know, maybe because it’s human nature to want to dig for the truth.” Isn’t that what we were doing with Simon?

“I agree.” His fingers land on my hip, and he tugs me closer. “But your parents’ truth isn’t yours, Ellie.”

Then ask me mine. Please just ask and I’ll have to tell you. I can’t lie to your face anymore. And then this will all be over. I close my eyes again, shutting down those thoughts. “Miles?”

He pulls me gently until I’m standing between his legs. “Yeah?”

I almost say what’s inside my head, but quickly realize that I don’t want it to be over. Any of it. I don’t want him to hate me.

Instead I say, “Do I still drive you crazy?”

I open my eyes in time to see his reaction, feel his fingers tighten on my waist.

He touches his forehead to mine. “Every. Damn. Second.”

My chest rises and falls more rapidly; my hands are shaking from all the emotion, from wanting this so much. I lift both my hands to his face. “I know the feeling.”

“What if…” His lips hover over mine. “Another time-out. Just for the weekend? We can turn back into pumpkins when we get back to Virginia.”

That’s what it’s like for me, when we do this thing where we let go and just be…I feel like a statue coming to life. I look at him and draw in a deep breath. He’s got those warm, kind eyes trained on me, promising some not-so-good behavior. What is it with the Ames sisters and our habit of falling for these saintlike guys?

I lean in and let my mouth touch his. Warmth spreads over me; my lips linger on his, barely moving, just soaking it up. Miles sighs against my mouth, and then he pulls away too soon. He releases me and strides across the room, turning the dial on the wall to dim the lights. Before I can ask questions, I’m in his arms again, his face buried against my neck.

“Binoculars,” he whispers. “My parents have them right by the window. For bird-watching. Figured you might prefer privacy.”

He lifts me up off the ground, and suddenly I’m perched on the back of the couch where he’d been moments ago. His fingers find the hem of my tank top and sink beneath it, pulling the material up.

My stomach flutters with nerves, but I force out a laugh. “So you are trying to get me naked in Mr. Lee’s room? I might ask for a refund if this is how you teach self-defense.”

I expect him to offer up one of his smooth lines, but instead, his hands come out from under my shirt. He tugs the material back in place. Even in the dark I can make out the creases in his forehead. “Don’t do that, Ellie.”

“Do what?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He slides closer, pulling my legs around his back. “Don’t be that girl. The one who seduced Bret and let Davey stare at her ass. I know that’s not really you.”

My throat tightens.

“You’re allowed to be nervous,” Miles says. “I am. And I don’t want to pretend I’m not scared of this. Or of you. And me.”

Any girl would be an idiot not to fall in love with Miles. He’s everything I don’t deserve. Fortunately for me, I have a long history of taking things that aren’t mine. I tighten my arms around his neck and hide my face.

“I know I seemed experienced around the Holden A-crowd, but I haven’t really done much of this,” he whispers.

I lift my head and look at him.

“I don’t want to pretend to be cool with you, okay? My mom was right, I am shy,” he admits. “And I never wanted to—I just—” The smoldering look he gives me sends my heart flying out of my chest. “I never wanted someone so much that I could ditch that part of myself.”

Somewhere outside of the puddle I’ve just melted into, I realize what he’s trying to tell me. I bring his mouth to mine. “Okay, I get it. No more artificially cool Ellie. Want to be done talking now?”

“God yes,” he says against my lips. He grips my face with one hand and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. He kisses me for an eternity, finally having time and space to slow down and savor every second.

But eventually I pull away and nudge Miles back a few inches so I can get a good look at him. I push my hands beneath his T-shirt and shove it up and over his head. I’ve seen him shirtless too many times to count, but I’ve never really had the chance to touch him like this. My hands roam from his shoulders down his arms. He watches me the whole time, his gaze heavy, intense.

Just to make things even, I finish the job he started a few minutes ago by removing my tank top. Miles immediately steps closer.

“Under the circumstances…” I tell him. “I won’t yell at you for checking out my boobs.”

In one quick motion, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. “Just for that, we might have to take a walk outside.”

But instead of opening the door, he sets me on the floor and then drops down beside me. I’m about to throw some choice words at him for tossing me around like a sack of potatoes, but all those words get stuck the moment his gaze sweeps over me. And for a second, I can see what his mom was talking about when she painted this picture of a shy, slightly sheltered Miles, combined with curiosity that drives an eleven-year-old boy to learn construction by building his own fort in the woods.

Miles is a hands-on learner.

He’s still staring at me, maybe searching my face for any hesitation. “Are you cold? I can build a fire…”

I reach up and bring his face closer to mine. “Later.”