But that was a little much, and treading way too close to that friendship line I was determined to maintain.

“I don’t mind at all.”

She looked up at me and a reflection of the firelight danced in her pretty brown eyes. “Thanks, Gavin.”

Uh-oh. I was in so much trouble.

18

Skylar

A little thrill of excitement pulsed through my veins as I got into Gavin’s truck. I didn’t know why. He was only driving me home. Maybe it was the lingering effects of my weird anxiety-induced arousal. That, and the habit I’d developed of daydreaming about him. Spending the evening next to him, touching him, made those daydreams flash through my mind like a movie reel of erotic desires.

Never in my life had I been so physically attracted to someone. This went beyond my hypersensitivity, beyond a crush on a hot firefighter. Being near him made my body react in ways that felt foreign and frightening and exhilarating all at once.

Balancing on his good leg, Gavin slid his crutches behind the seat and hoisted himself in. He glanced at me, flashing a smile that puckered the dimples in his cheeks. “Ready?”

I pulled the seatbelt over my lap and clicked it into place. “Yep.”

Ginny had offered to drive me home, but it had been obvious she was having fun chatting with Gram and Fiona. I didn’t want to make her go on my account. And when I’d mentioned that Gavin had offered me a ride, she’d hit me with a knowing smile.

She probably had the wrong idea. Gavin was only taking me home. It wasn’t like he’d come inside and anything would happen. Heck, Dad had already left the party, so both my parents were home—which was still so strange I didn’t know how to feel about it.

He turned the truck on and glanced at me again. “Are you tired?”

“A little. Why?”

“I was just thinking, it’s not very late, and maybe instead of dropping you off, we could do something. With fewer people around, I mean. But if you’re tired—”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m not too tired.”

“Awesome. Maybe a movie?”

“Yeah, a movie sounds great.”

“My place or yours?”

“Definitely yours, if you don’t mind. My divorced parents are both home and it’s… tense. And kind of awkward.”

“Fair enough. My brothers are still at Asher’s party and I’m sure they’ll be out late. We’ll have the place to ourselves for a while.” He paused, clearing his throat. “You know, so we can pick whatever movie we want.”

Another thrill of excitement—or was it nervousness?—jolted through me.

Gavin’s house was only about a mile from Gram’s, on a quiet residential street. A sign on the corner said Bailey Way, although it looked like a sticker over the real sign. Stars scattered across the night sky and the mountain peaks rose around us. Even at night, it was so pretty here.

We got out of the truck and Gavin gestured to the neighboring house. “Asher and Grace live there.”

“And you live with Levi and Logan?”

“Yep.”

“Is that why the street sign back there says Bailey Way?”

He laughed. “No, that’s from a prank we pulled. It was about a year and a half ago, I guess? We put them all over town. The Havens removed them, but we kept replacing this one. They finally just left it.”

I followed him inside and he flipped on the lights. The front room distinctly said bachelor pad. It had a worn couch and a couple of armchairs, a coffee table cluttered with video game controllers and a few beer bottles, and a big TV mounted on the wall.

Gavin leaned his crutches against the door so he could take off his coat. “Sorry. It’s kind of messy. My brothers are basically wild animals.”

“None of the mess is yours?” I nudged his arm, then shrugged off my coat.

“Of course not.” He grinned. “They’re not home, so I can throw them under the bus.”

“Naturally.”

“Princess Squeaker,” Gavin called, getting his crutches back under his arms. “Mommy’s home.”

Gavin’s kitten came out from the hallway, blinking sleepy eyes. She paused and arched her back in a long stretch.

“There’s my tiny girl. Did you miss your mommy?”

I didn’t ask why he was referring to himself as her mommy. That just seemed like something Gavin would do.

He called her over and she followed him to the couch. As soon as he sat down, she jumped up into his lap, purring loudly.

I sat on the couch next to him and tucked my legs up. “She sure loves you.”

He petted her affectionately. “Yeah. So how do you feel about scary movies?”

“I don’t know. They’re not really my thing.”

“Really? You write some scary ass shit.”

“I know, but that’s different.”

“How?”

“Well…” I fiddled with a strand of my hair. “I guess because when I’m writing scary things, I know I’m in control. Writing helps me process my fears. When I was a little girl, I was terrified of being kidnapped by a bad guy. I used to have nightmares about being locked in a closet. I could picture it so clearly, everything from the way my heart would race, to the little sliver of light I’d see around the door. I could hear the footsteps of the bad guy coming closer. It was all so real. So when I got older, I wrote a book where something like that happens. The character isn’t a little girl, she’s a grown woman. But she’s kidnapped and held in a closet, just like I used to be afraid of.”

“Did it help? Are you still afraid of being kidnapped and held in a closet?”

“Nope, I’m not. I haven’t had that nightmare since I wrote the book.”

“Are all your books based on nightmares?”

“No, but I dig into my fears when I write. And I think it helps. I know I still get anxious about things, but writing suspenseful stories helps me temper some of my bigger, more outlandish fears.”

“But no scary movies?”

I took a deep breath. “I haven’t tried to watch one in a long time.”

“I was just thinking it might be fun to watch something similar to what you write. There’s this one that has a similar vibe, although it’s not nearly as good as your book. It’s not a gory horror movie, but it’s pretty intense.”

“We can give it a try.”

“Tell you what. If you hate it, we can turn it off and find something else.”

“Deal.”

Princess Squeaker seemed to have gotten her fill of snuggles from her cat mom. She crawled onto the arm of the couch and curled up to go to sleep.

Gavin grabbed a remote off the coffee table and got the movie started.

I could see why he’d suggested it. There were similarities to my books, particularly the one he’d been reading. But seeing it all on a screen was a different experience from writing. It was intense in a different way. The score added to the suspenseful atmosphere of the film, the music reverberating through me, making my hair stand on end.

Suddenly, my hypersensitivity-induced arousal was back. Heat bloomed in my core and a tingling sensation made me shift in my seat. The friction of my pants only made it worse. My heart beat faster and my cheeks warmed.