Only so much we can do. If you weren’t an adult we could send child services in. But you’re eighteen. Your mother is telling a different story. You could always call the police in...

She shook it off. Forcing the memory back into dark, dusty, unused corners of her mind.

She didn’t need this. Not any of it.

“Right,” Sadie said. “That...sucks. That sucks.”

“I’m sorry for her.”

Anger built up in her, more familiar now than she would like it to be, and all connected to Eli Freaking Garrett.

“If you were sorry, if you were paying attention, you would do something instead of just apologizing to me.”

“What?” he asked.

“That’s all people like you do in situations like this. Talk about how it’s sad and unfortunate and regrettable—that’s when you’re not acting like you just don’t see it at all.” She ignored the guilt that lodged in her chest because that had been the first thing she’d done. Her first instinct. To think she was paranoid, and that it could be other things.

And sure, it still could be. But in the interest of her own comfort she’d been completely dismissive, and she knew the kind of pain that caused. Knew that that attitude could be utterly devastating to the people being shoved into the shadows for the convenience of others.

“The thing is, Sadie, I haven’t seen anything. Except that I know the guy is a dick. On the job site and off. But being a dick isn’t a crime. Now, when he has committed crimes? It’s been handled. But he hasn’t recently, and I swear to you I have nothing but supposition about how he treats her.”

“But can’t you investigate—”

“No,” he said. “I can’t. Because as much as I would like to sometimes, adults have a right to privacy. If there has not been a crime, then there’s nothing I can do. I can’t assume someone has committed a crime and go in after them. There are lines, and I can’t cross them.”

“Whatever. You’re a chronic do-gooder. You’re all up in your family’s life. You feel like you’re all up in mine, because here you are in my house again, and you’re talking to me about boundaries?”

“I’m sorry, but the girl who runs from everything is going to talk to me about getting involved in people’s lives? When was the last time you were involved in anyone’s life besides your own, Sadie? When was the last time you took the time to help someone with their problems?”

“I did it for a living, jackass.”

“And that helps you sleep at night, doesn’t it? It helps you feel like you talk to people and like you’ve done something, but you never have to stay around, day in and day out and see the same people. See the same struggle. Know that all the help you’ve offered has meant nothing in the end.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Eli turned away from her and stalked toward the entryway and she followed him, her heart raging. “Hey, you just impugned my character, now stick around and explain it,” she said.

“People don’t change, Sadie. If I’ve seen one thing in my life, it’s that. But to realize it you have to stick around. You got to sit in an office and listen to people talk, for money, but I won’t even go too deep into that because, yeah, I take care of this community for money and I don’t think a paycheck negates caring. But the thing is, I’m here. Year in, year out. I arrest the same kids over and over again. The same street people, the same addicts. The same abusers. And I wish to God they would get it. That something would reach them, but nine times out of ten, it just doesn’t.”

“I try, Eli. Even if I don’t stay for twenty years, it doesn’t mean I don’t try,” she said, the ball of fury growing hotter, bigger.

“You get to feel superior,” he said, “and that’s damn convenient. Because you get to judge me for what you think is me refusing to make a difference, and the view from your high horse tells you that you have made one. But it’s only because you’re all wrapped up in this fuzzy, fake reality blanket you knitted for yourself. You get to say that it’s real, that what you do is real, and you get to look around this place that hasn’t changed and say that what I do isn’t. But it’s because you’ve never bothered to look behind you.”

“That is...” she said, searching for words. But it was hard when they were all mired in anger. “That is completely unfair.”

“Is it? You’re standing here telling me I don’t care when, honestly, the thing is, I do. But caring doesn’t do a damn thing. You have to act. I act according to the law. I keep things in order, using real rules and guidelines. I don’t deal in the subjective, because I can’t afford to make irrational mistakes.”

“I see. So emotions are irrational.”

“Hell yes,” he said. “Emotions are damned irrational.”

He took a step toward her, the tight space of the entryway growing smaller. “You know what else is irrational?” he asked.

“What?” She shouldn’t ask what. Because she shouldn’t want to know. Because the answer was going to lead to something stupid, and she knew that better than she knew just about anything at this point.

“Attraction,” he said, his voice getting deeper.

Oh, no. That was definitely the wrong topic.

Everything slowed down, except her pulse, which sped up, beating hard in her neck, her wrists and, noticeably, at the apex of her thighs.

“Sure,” she said. “Attraction is...you know, not logical, because it originates in your pants and not your brain. Which is not strictly true, actually. Your brain definitely plays a part in attraction...” Which begged the question why her brain and body were conspiring against her.

“It’s a nuisance,” he said.

“Get off my lawn, sexy feelings,” she said, shaking her fist and trying to laugh.

But before she could finish the fake giggle, it was cut off by Eli’s mouth over hers, by the fierce strength of his body propelling them both backward until they hit the wall. She dropped her lemonade, hearing it hit the floor, hearing it splash upward and spill the ice. It would be sticky and slippery and she just didn’t care right now.

He pushed his pelvis against hers, the hard ridge of his erection evident against her softness. She rolled her hips against him and he groaned, the sound reverberating through her.

She didn’t know why anger and lust were all tied into one thing with this man. She didn’t know why she couldn’t control her emotions or her body around him. She didn’t know why she wanted him even when he drove her crazy.

Even when she didn’t like him. At least, she was pretty sure she didn’t like him.

It was hard to parse the finer feelings just at the moment.

He growled, a kind of deep, low sound. A sound that spoke of both satisfaction and hunger as he moved his hands to her waist to hold her, slid them down to her hips and held her tight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself more firmly against his body, and she found herself backed more tightly against the wall, the kiss intensifying.

She bit his lip and he returned it, his teeth leaving behind a stinging impression that burned all the way down. She was past thinking. She was past anger. She was past caring whether or not they could ever go out to dinner together without fighting.

Because what did that matter when there was this? Nothing else mattered. Not the construction workers outside, not her pride, not anything. Not in comparison with the heat that was burning between them, white-hot and insistent. Perfect.

This was sexual need in its purest form. Undiluted. A straight shot of alcohol that buzzed right through the brain and turned everything on the periphery gauzy. Consequences didn’t matter. Eli mattered. While the rest of the world faded, he remained. Sharp and present, perfect. Necessary.

She released her hold on him and ran her hands down his chest, over the thin black T-shirt that seemed to be his out-of-work uniform. She could feel the muscles underneath, the hard ridges, defined peaks and valleys.

And she couldn’t stop herself from dragging her fingertips all the way down to the edge of his shirt and pushing her hands beneath the hem. She hissed when her fingers made contact with hot skin and rough hair.

This might kill her. He might kill her.

She didn’t know if she had the fortitude for this. Because it was definitely like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

This wasn’t a pleasant tightening in her stomach and a bit of slickness between her thighs. It was all-over need. Warmth that bloomed low and spread to all of her extremities, that infiltrated her veins and heated her blood, making it flow hotter, faster, went straight to her heart and sent it into overdrive. Left her shaking and weak and needy in a way that should terrify her.

Scratch that, it did terrify her. But the arousal drowned out the fear. Mayhem was crashing around her, but it didn’t matter because lust was a giant hand holding her head down beneath the waves. Where she was insulated, and at the same time in terrible danger.