* * *
I hug Rachel for the third time since we unloaded her cases from the trunk. “I can’t believe you’ll be gone until the end of August.”
She squeezes me for a second, and then pushes away, rubbing her finger under her eye. “Summer never lasts all that long anyway. I’ll be home before you know it.”
I have to get out of here before I cry in front of Danny. “Okay then, we don’t want to make you late. Be careful and don’t catch malaria or some other crazy disease.”
Lush, sandy brown hair falls over her shoulder. “I had all the vaccinations. All of them. If they’d have jabbed me once more, I’d enter myself into the world record book as the first human pin cushion.”
She turns to Danny. I inspect my fingernails, trying not to stare as he wraps her in a bear hug. Seems for the last three summers all I’ve done is try not to gawk at him. And failed.
Forever. Failing.
He’s always been good looking. Growing up, he had nice skin, good coloring, and beautiful eyes. But when he came home two summers ago, his back covered with tats and his entire body ripped like an MMA fighter, he’d changed. Now, all I can do is stare.
Thank heaven for sunglasses; they hide a multitude of sin. That’s what David, Rach’s dad, would call this sick attraction I have for his son. Sins of the flesh.
My flesh flushes just looking at Danny’s long fingers and the veins crisscrossing the backs of his hands and trailing up his muscular arms, much less his abs or his back—those little dimples above his waistband. The scene in the hallway pops into my mind and I shake off the goose bumps prickling my arms.
I have to stop this. It’s ridiculous.
When Danny sets Rachel on her feet, he grabs her backpack and helps her put it over her shoulders. “Got your ticket?”
She nods.
“Passport?”
She gives him her are-you-kidding-me look. “Really? You don’t think I can remember my passport?”
He ignores her question. “Ear buds?”
Rach cringes. “Aw, man. I knew I was forgetting something.”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a wad of white, tucking it into her hand. “Take these. It’s a helluva long flight to get stuck listening to someone’s kid scream or some guy snoring his ass off.”
Rachel frowns. “Language.”
Language. Yeah. That’s gonna work.
Danny grins at her and winks at me. “You’re right. Dad probably heard me all the way from Cancun.”
“Mom’s in recovery; Dad went to support her. Stop already. It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more compassionate.”
“My ass. This is Mom’s fourth trip to rehab in two years. They’re vacationing and it’s a medical write off. Open your eyes, Sis.”
He runs his fingers through his hair. It’s weird how they have the same color hair, the same glass green eyes, and yet they’re so completely opposite. If they didn’t look alike, I’d barely think they were related, much less twins.
I pull my phone from my pocket. “Hey, the clock’s ticking. Rach, you’d better get through security. It’s an international flight; they want you at the gate early.”
Rachel bites her lip and grabs me around the neck again, whispering, “Don’t let him get into trouble this summer. Any more scandals and Dad’s gonna disown him.”
I’ll have more luck nailing Jell-O to a wall than keeping Danny out of trouble.
She backs away as she says to Danny, “Take care of my best friend—and yourself.”
“Sure thing.” He gives her thumbs up.
She turns and waves backward over her head. “I love you both.”
“Love you too.” Danny and I say in unison. Neither of us moves until she gets through security and disappears into the depths of the airport.
I turn toward the car, my stomach clenched tight. An hour on the road. With Danny Jennings. And a whole summer with no Rachel as a buffer.
I swallow the knot of dread in my throat only to have it slide down to join the bubble of excitement waiting there.
Luckily, the dread pops the bubble. As it should.
This is going to be a disaster.
The moment my foot hits the pavement outside the revolving door, Danny drops his arm over my shoulders. “So, Moan-uh, where to?”
I pick up his hand and spin away. “Don’t call me Mona. It’s Mo, or even Lisa, but not Mona.”
“Whatever you say, Moan-uh Lisa.”
Somehow he makes my name sound like I’m a porn star. I resist the growl fighting to get out of my throat. I will not let him see how he gets to me. I won’t.
Fists clenched, I head into the cross-walk. Danny’s arm circles my waist, and he pulls me hard against his chest, yanking me backward. His citrus and sin scent envelops me.