I walk up to him. “What’s wrong?”

“The riverbank is flooding,” he says, charging into the kitchen and toward the fridge. “They’re calling anyone who’s able to come help sandbag before it reaches the streets.”

Got it. I pull my Chucks out of the closet, hopping on one foot as I slip each one on. “Did you call Cole?”

“Yeah, but he’s not answering.” He grabs an armful of water bottles. “Why don’t you try?”

I yank my raincoat off the hanger and close the closet, grabbing my baseball cap off the hook on the outside. “If he didn’t answer for you, he definitely won’t for me.”

Pike re-enters the living room, his five bottles pinched between his fingers. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking me again, and I roll my eyes.

“But I’ll try in the car,” I tell him, opening the door. “Let’s go.”

We get down to the inlet in no time, Pike having already loaded up as many of his sandbags as he had left in the back of his truck. The city has a hefty supply, though, and they were already down here with their trucks.

With the rain being so bad this summer and every last inch of snow finally melting farther north, the river has been a time bomb. I remember it flooding the homes on the west side a few years back, but the city got prepared after that. Police, firefighters, city crew, and citizens are now scattered amongst the rocks of the flood barrier already in place. Piles of sandbags are set up all the way from the water, up the incline of the boulders, and to the dirt and grass up here. There’s little more than a hundred yards of weeds, trees, and railroad track to cross before the dilapidated houses of the old west side that was the first part of Northridge to be settled. The water is rising, but slowly, so hopefully if the flood barrier isn’t enough, the sandbags will be. The people in this neighborhood can’t afford to leave, much less lose their houses.

The river runs south, growing in speed, and I shiver a little, every inch of me soaking wet. Drops of water fall from the bill of my cap, and rain runs down my legs.

“Water?”

Pike holds a bottle out to me, and I peer up at him from under the brim of my hat and smile, snatching it up. “Thank you.”

He moves around me without another word, grabbing a sandbag and tossing it to a guy down the line. We’ve been here for three hours now, and we haven’t been able to reach Cole, although I can’t say I tried very hard. I don’t want to see him right now, so I gave it three rings and then hung up.

I look down at the bottle of water in my hand. My mouth is like a desert.

Unscrewing the cap, I suck down half the water, take a breath, and swallow two more gulps. There’s only about an inch left, so I stick it in my jacket pocket to finish later.

“Hey, Jordan,” a chipper voice calls, passing by.

I look to see April Lester pulling on a pair of work gloves and heading down the rocks toward Pike, dressed in jeans hugging every inch of her legs and a cute camouflage T-shirt and hat. A black ponytail hangs out the hole in the back.

She looks kind of cute. I’m so used to seeing her in her ‘going-out’ clothes at the bar.

I pull out a sandbag from the truck bed and heft the forty-pound burlap sack to the next guy in line and turn back to the bed, repeating the task. Each bag makes its way from one set of hands to the other until it reaches its place on the river bank.

I notice April in another assembly line, directly across from Pike, and she’s talking to him.

I try to keep my eyes averted, because it’s not my business, but I find myself stealing glances, and I don’t know why.

Liquid heat rushes through my chest, and I feel a cool sweat breaking out on my forehead.

Does he know her? Have they ever talked? I don’t think they’ve ever been out. They can’t have been. Pike’s like a priest. He’s so uptight, and that woman comes on stronger than a hammer over the head. She’d scare him.

I wet my lips, handing off another bag, and unable to keep myself from watching them. She smiles brightly, saying something, and he looks over at her, listening with amusement. One of his rare, outstanding, and gorgeous smiles flashes on her—on her—and my heart skips a beat.

I scowl and grab another bag.

Is he fucking blushing? He actually looks a little shy, but he doesn’t look turned off by her flirting.

I groan.

Get over it. He’s a man. A young one still and, I’m sure, a pretty healthy one, too. He’s had sex with women—Cole is proof of that. It’s unrealistic to think he’s going without. He’s going to bring a woman home sometime. Everyone has needs.

I drop my eyes to his torso, the thin, black pullover rain jacket molded to his body like a second skin. His sleeves are pulled up, showing off his forearms, and I swear I can see the rain falling down his neck from here. He’s tall and broad, and I love the way his T-shirts fit and he wears his jeans.

When a man looks that good in clothes, you know he looks good out of them.

And if he looked half this good in high school, every girl must’ve wanted him. I’m curious to know what he was like then, but then there are some things I don’t want to know, either.

April passes him a bag but fumbles, and he darts down to grab it before it falls from her arms.

They’re smiling and leaning in close to each other, and my lungs hurt.

And, as if he senses me watching him, his eyes suddenly dart up, meeting mine, and for a moment everyone else disappears.

I stop breathing. Shit.

I look away, quickly grabbing another bag.

I don’t look back, even though I can feel him watching me.

Once the truck is empty, I take out my water bottle and drink the rest, walking over to Pike’s truck and tossing it in the bed.

“Ready?” I hear him say.

I spin around and see him coming over and pulling off his soaked jacket. His T-shirt rides up with the movement, and I tear my gaze away from his stomach.

“Are…are we all done?” I ask.

He throws the coat into the back and digs another water out of the cooler. “This is about all we can do, I guess. We just need to hope it’s enough and it holds.”

I take one last look around, noticing everyone has moved on to one thing or another. Some are climbing into their cars and some are still positioning bags or chatting.

I whip off my jacket, too, toss it into the bed of the truck, and climb into the passenger seat.

I pull the door closed, and he starts the engine, the wipers immediately kicking into gear from where they left off on the drive over.

I look out the window.

“Oh, shit,” I breathe out, gazing out in the distance. He follows my gaze.

The truck sits higher up, and we have a full view of the river beyond, all the way to the other side. A small set of islands that sit in the middle is now almost covered with water, and houses on the opposite bank are threatened as the river rises half-way up their stilts.

It still has a long way to go, and the rain has already slowed down a little. Hopefully it will be fine.

“I can’t believe how high it is,” I say. “Surreal.”

He turns to me. “You’re smiling again.”

I meet his eyes, my face relaxing. Was I smiling? “Well, I’m trying not to,” I tell him, breaking into another one. “I mean, I hope no one gets hurt and no one gets flooded, but…”

“But?”

I shrug, feeling a little guilty. “I kind of liked helping today, I guess. It’s fun to get dirty.”

He laughs under his breath and shifts the truck into gear. “You haven’t been dirty yet,” he teases. “Fasten your seatbelt.”

A half hour later, I’m yelping and gripping the handle above the door as he speeds down the muddy canal. He jerks the wheel, so we vault up over the side and back onto high ground, and I laugh, bouncing in my seat.

Oh, my God, this is fun. I feel like I’m going to die. My eyes water, I’m laughing so much.

“I can’t believe you’ve never done this before,” he says, looking over at me like I need to surrender my Small-Town-Girl card. “In my day, this was the place to take a girl to show her how badass you were in your truck.”

I tumble left and then right as the truck navigates all the muddy dips and puddles. He’s let me have complete reign of the stereo and Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days plays from the tape I put in. I turn up the volume and grip the dash for support. “It still is,” I inform him. “In my day, though, it’s becoming harder and harder for guys you date to keep a valid drivers’ license.”

He chuckles. “I believe that.”

Rain and mud kick up around us, and I can see splatters of both hitting the sleeve of my raincoat nearest the door and my bare thigh. Pike insisted we roll down the windows, not caring in the least that his interior might get dirty. He said it would heighten the experience.

“Did you bring your dates here?” I ask.

“From time to time.”

I quirk the corner of my mouth into a knowing smile. “And then you took them to Hammond Lock to make-out after?”

He darts his gaze to me, looking surprised. “What do you know about Hammond Lock?”

I shrug. “Oh, I heard that’s where the old folks took their dates back in the day, is all.”

He feigns a scowl and revs the gas, barreling us down into another ditch. My stomach drops into my feet, and I yelp again, laughing.

“Stop!” I plead. “You’re going to tip us!”

The front fender crashes into the bottom, kicking up a wave of mud and water in front of us. My body jerks forward into the seatbelt, and I scream in excitement, squeezing my eyes shut.

Shit!

But I can’t stop laughing. He’s right. How have I never done this before? I’ve been missing out.

Cool rain falls lightly through the window, misting my leg, and I open my eyes again and wipe off my cheek, seeing streaks of mud on my hand.

Turning to him, I see his eyes meet mine, both of our bodies shaking with quiet laughter.