All at once, and to her horror, she understood that Cam was being serious.

"No," she said, "Not going to happen. Not now, not ever."

"Miss Park ma'am—" he started, but she cut him off impatiently.

"Oh shove it with the ma'am, and why don't you go take Madysen out for your hot date? I'm sure she'll appreciate it much more than me and you will definitely get more bang for your buck."

She winced inwardly. That last part about Madysen had slipped out before she could stop herself.

This time he didn't reply, only looked at her in that carefully searching way he had as he shifted his weight and leaned one arm against her doorway in a movement both fluid and graceful. Like a cat getting ready to pounce, she thought. She took a step backwards in order to distance herself from the heady aroma of him; he was wearing the kind of old-fashioned cologne that made her think of manly men chopping wood as opposed to the cheap flashy kind guys liked to douse themselves in back in the bars and clubs back home.

Or maybe it was the same stuff, but because it was Cam it smelled like ... well it smelled like her on her hands and knees at the side of the road rutting like an animal in the dirt. Her womb made a sharp contraction and she felt the wetness pooling between her legs.

No.

She took another step back and bumped up against a counter. Still he watched her and said nothing. She willed herself to continue meeting his gaze but as usual she found herself blinking in confusion and fixing her stare down at the kitchen linoleum. There it was, her old friend, those scrubby looking flowers and the off-white, beaten up gloss of her kitchen floor.

The seconds ticked away, the silence between them growing heavy and full and ripe; she struggled to unfreeze her brain and think of something, anything to say that would keep that silence from exploding.

Thankfully he beat her to it, for once.

"What's wrong Miss Park?" His voice was soft, a whisper almost. It pulled her to him, that thread that existed between them, taut and vibrating with desire. She only shook her head, hoping he could see how impossible it would be for her to answer his question. Hoping he would get how hard this was for her, resisting him, and that he would go away and make it easy for her again. Well, less hard at least.

"Let me help you. Whatever it is, I can help you with it."

Oh Cam, she thought, and started shaking her head vigorously now. She was trembling, it was so hard not to take a step closer to him. At last she groped her way to a chair so she could sit down; she felt like a goddamn invalid or something. She folder her arms onto the kitchen table and dropped her head down into them, willing the young man and his beauty and his concern far, far away from her hot, dangerous mess of a life. A part of her looked on and taunted her for her resemblance to her reprobate students who did that during her classes, either to take much needed naps or else as an escape from the impossible boredom of senior English. And here she was, doing it to one of her own former students.

The irony.

"Come on ma'am, let's get in my truck and go somewhere we can talk. Or we don't have to talk. But let me at least take you out."

She heaved a sigh—so many sighs for one day—and mumbled that she wasn't dressed for going out.

"And besides," she said, her head snapping up as she suddenly remembered. "I don't hear a word from you all summer except for that text out of nowhere that got me so worried I called your father about it. And then you show up on my doorstep out of nowhere and expect me to just hop into your truck again and speed off into the sunset?"

She was annoyed again. Annoyance was definitely better than whatever feeling had been causing her to shiver and blush a second ago. He was still standing in the doorway, too polite to step inside without her invitation. She wasn't sure if she liked that or not, this unaccustomed politeness of his. That last thought startled her, and she quickly dismissed it.

Still he watched her with that quiet, searching look of his, one that was way too intense, way too ... knowing for a boy his age. At least her irritation helped her to finally return his gaze with her own.

You're just some horny 19 year-old guy, she thought. I'm not afraid of you.

"Miss Park," he said, "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me. I was giving you your space."

She rolled her eyes at him and snorted.

"Sure you were Cam."

He raised his eyebrows at her. At least she'd finally gotten some kind of reaction out of him. How could someone so young be so damned self-possessed? It wasn't fair.

"Go home Cam," she said, her voice flat and sarcastic. "Or go back to where ever you've been hiding out all summer. You're wasting your time here, you're not getting lucky tonight. Sorry."

Again that unexpected bitterness inside of her rising up and announcing itself to everyone present. She flinched at how naked and obvious it was; why could she never get the knack of keeping her feelings to herself around these Walker men? It had been so different with her fiancé, she could keep so much under wraps, undiscovered. Toward the end he had been so thoroughly confused by her long silences and her lack of tears, so clueless about the true state of her heart. That's definitely what she preferred, though a part of her also understood that was why she had hurt him so badly.

Cam and Kyle though? Forget it, they saw right through her. It was like being around her sister times two. No, times a freaking million.

Oh God, her sister. Another thought to hurriedly push away for the moment.

The sounds and smells of the dark, humid night were flooding into her kitchen through the open door. The frogs were louder than usual, and she saw a flash of heat lightning illuminate a gathering of clouds in the distance.

"If that's the way you really feel ma'am then I'll go. I didn't mean to trouble you."

She couldn't bear the sight of him anymore, leaning like that in her doorway, the bunch of wildflowers in one hand, along with the baseball cap he had doffed when she had finally opened the door to him.

She looked back down at her folded arms and said nothing, waiting for him to disappear again from her life.

There was the faraway rumble of thunder, and then the sharp crack of lightning and a second peal of thunder that sounded much closer. A sudden harsh wind blew through the kitchen and slammed the back door all the way open.

"Oh!" she cried, jumping to her feet in surprise. Cam had reached in to grab the doorknob and pull it shut but the wind was howling now and furiously pushing back against his efforts. She moved to help him when a sheet of horizontal rain rushed in without warning.

"Cam, wait, come in out of there!" she cried, and tugged at his arm that was still struggling with the door. He let her pull him inside and together they shoved the door shut, the wind and rain pounding furiously at its glass. She snatched close the flimsy piece of cotton that served as a half-assed curtain for it, as though to provide another layer of protection from the roaring tempest outside, then leaned her back against the door and panted. Her face and the top of her shirt were soaked and Cam was completely drenched down his back.

"Holy shit, what was that?"

"Just a squall, it'll pass soon. They've been pretty regular this summer, you got out of here before the season started." He was opening and closing her cupboards as he spoke, in search of what she didn't know.

"Just a squall? That was crazy! It came out of nowhere!" She reached for a dish towel to dry her face off, then stopped and made a face when she felt something dried and crusty rub against her skin. Gross.

"I'll get us some towels, hold on a sec."

When she returned with one for each of them he was busily arranging the bouquet in a mason jar he had retrieved from god only knew what dusty corner of her kitchen. She almost laughed out loud to see how seriously he was taking it, carefully switching out a fluffy pink flower with a big yellow black-eyed susan. The laughter died on her lips, however, as she realized he was doing it for her.

"Cam," she said, nudging him from his flower-arranging reverie with one of the towels.

"Thank you Miss Park," he said, and began wiping his face down with it.

"Oh Cam, you're soaked, give me your shirt and I'll throw it in the dryer," she said. Then added, blushing: "And your pants too."

He stopped mid-towel rub and gave her a quizzical look.

"Are you sure ma'am?" he said. "I don't mind being a little wet. I'll wait until the rain dies down a little and then I'll get out of your hair."

"Yes," she said. "I'm sure."

She took the towel back from him, and then reached out her hand again, making clear that she was waiting for him to strip and hand her his wet clothes. She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, and a part of her hoped she was giving off some kind of bossy maternal vibe that would cancel out all the awkwardness of the situation. Mostly, however, she just couldn't think straight with Cam standing so near to her in her kitchen, so if she had to guess, this was probably a bad idea. Still, it was chilly inside her house with the air conditioning pumped up to full blast and she knew he had to be feeling it.

Besides, he had brought her flowers. Probably picked them himself on the way over and then arranged them for her. She blushed even harder and tried to make a sign of impatience in the hopes of covering it up.

"Yes ma'am," he said, and in one fluid movement he had pulled his polo shirt up over his head and dropped it into her outstretched hand. It felt warm to the touch, hot almost, from the summer glow of his dark tan and inner body heat. She noted with a twinge in her abdomen the hard muscle of his stomach and the lack of tan lines across his chest and arms. Whatever he had been up to over the summer, it had required a lot of manual labor she was guessing. Manual labor without his shirt on. She tried to banish the image from her head, but it was too late.

"I—I'll just set up the dryer while you get your jeans off," she muttered and then turned away in embarrassment. She could hear him unbuckling his belt as she walked into the tiny laundry room off the kitchen, and a familiar thrill ran down her spine and through her nether regions. It was a sound she had learned to associate with Cam Walker. It was a sound she very much craved.