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Chapter 5: Secrets

"No," I hear myself tell him, to my own surprise. "I don't want you to go."

"Good," he says with a wolfish smile. "Because I'm not ready for you to fly away yet."

I'm not sure what to make of that answer, so I turn away and begin searching the water around the rock where I was sitting. My bare toes skim across the bottom, feeling for anything that isn't a slick, river-smoothed stone. Periodically, I bend over and run my fingers across the bottom, grasping around through the dark green water.

They wouldn't have floated away, I tell myself. They're heavy enough that they would sink. But I'm not sure if that's just wishful thinking. My mind keeps going back to other things.

"Sorry for dumping on you like that," I say. "About my mom, I mean. We don't even know each other. You don't need to hear about all my problems."

"I don't know," he says. "Sometimes it's easier to be open with a complete stranger."

I glance his way. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Isn't it?"

"Does that mean you're going to start spilling all your problems to me?"

He shrugs, but there's a smile on his lips. "Maybe. Maybe not."

I don't know how to interpret that. Every word that comes out of Rafe's mouth makes him more intriguing, brings up more questions.

"Do you come out here often?" he asks. "To this spot?"

"Not often. Every few months or so. When I want to be alone and think."

"You got some demanding husband and kids back home?"

My fingers pause on something sharp beneath the water, but it's only a jagged rock. "No. Nothing like that." I glance over at him again. He's bent over like me, feeling around beneath the water. From this angle, I have a prime view of the muscles of his back through his thin tank top - not to mention the firm, athletic curve of his butt. I'm not sure how long my eyes linger on him before I notice I'm staring.

Control yourself, I think. Weren't you just telling yourself you're happy alone?

"You're asking me a lot of personal questions," I say, trying to turn the conversation back to him. "It's only fair you tell me at least one thing about yourself."

He laughs that deep, throaty laugh. "I'm a man of many secrets."

"You don't have to tell me any secrets, just something personal. Otherwise how do I know you're not going to murder me?"

Another laugh. "I guess you don't. You just have to trust me."

"That sounds like something a murderer would say."

"You seem to know a lot about murderers. How do I know you're not one?"

"Murderers are rarely women."

"I don't know," he says. "Seems like the perfect set up - beautiful woman, luring men out to a secluded spot with a strange siren song... Myths are full of that shit."

I keep my face down so he can't see that I'm blushing at the fact he called me beautiful. "I guess I've been found out."

Another deep laugh, triggering another flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

"I wasn't trying to pry into your personal life," he says. "I was just...curious."

"You can make it up to me," I say, daring to look at him again. "By telling me something about yourself. Have you always lived in California?"

He nods. "Born and raised in L.A."

"I can't imagine living there. All those people."

He flashes me a smile that makes my heart beat faster. "You get used to it. But it's very different from here." He looks up at the trees. "It's so quiet here."

"Some people like being able to hear their own thoughts."

His eyes land on me again, and he studies me for a moment. I twist slightly, searching another part of the riverbed.

"I admit, sometimes I just want to run away from it all," he says finally. "Just live on the road for a while. But L.A. has always been my home. And my whole family's there."

"Are you close to your family?" I never would have guessed that of this tattooed, dangerous-looking biker guy.

"Yeah, we're close," he says, a wry sort of humor in his voice. "But you might say I'm the black sheep of the family. The one who never quite fit."

"With all those tattoos? No," I say with mock astonishment.

"They've never treated me like an outsider, but..." He shrugs. "It's a charade. The whole fucking city. And eventually you get tired of all the bullshit."

Something in his voice makes me look up again. He's still watching me intently, almost like he's waiting for something. But I'm not sure what.

"I can't imagine," I tell him. I've never been to L.A. Heck, I don't even own a TV or computer - I'd never make it out there. But the more I think about what he's said, the more I realize I know exactly how he feels. I completely understand that special brand of loneliness that comes from being surrounded by kind, friendly people who want the best for you but have no idea of how much you hurt inside.

Suddenly Rafe is in front of me, so close I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I long to lean into him, to ease this empty feeling inside me for just a moment. I know he feels it too, that maybe we understand each other in a way no one else in our lives can.

He's still looking at me like he's waiting for something. Those dark eyes stare down into mine, and I notice I'm holding my breath, aching for something I didn't realize until this moment I truly wanted. Right now, neither of us has to be lonely.

But instead of leaning closer, he simply holds up his hand. My keys are dangling from his fingers.

"Look what I found," he says.

"Oh." I quickly take the keys and shove them deep into my pocket, my face growing warm. "Thank you."

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"No. I just..." I wouldn't normally have the guts to say it, but I'm never going to see this man again, so why does it matter? "I just thought you were going to kiss me. The way you were looking at me..."

Something wicked flashes in his eyes. "Did you want me to kiss you?"

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