“I’d never hurt a woman.” He ticks his head to the side, his hypnotic eyes never leaving mine. “Unless she begged, and only then would it be safe and sane fun had by all.” His brows hike a notch and I bite down on my lower lip in anticipation of a completely wild time had by all. “But no”—he’s quick to shoot me down—“I’m writing a thriller. A very long and droning, verynon-thrillingthriller. When you have a dream all of your life and you finally settle down to make it happen, the nightmare scenario is to find out that you probably shouldn’t be anywhere near that dream.”
I cringe at the thought. “Nothing crushes a man’s ego more than having a dream squashed. No wonder you’re in sexual retrograde. Did I just say that out loud?” We share a short-lived laugh. “But I’m really sorry to hear it. I get it. I’m an artist. I like all mediums. I do sunsets mostly. I’d love to paint a sunrise, but most days I don’t get up until noon.” Nice. Nothing alarming about a twenty-something college dropout who lives in a glorified outhouse, hydrates herself with Grey Goose, and sleeps until noon—wellpastnoon, but who’s keeping track? “Anyway, they look rather impressionist in nature. I guess my hobby will never quite hit a professional level. A third grader could do what I do. And that’s gospel.”
“Don’t knock it. There are plenty of art galleries that house miles of art that a third grader could do but are beautiful in their own right. Andthat’sgospel. I’d love to see them sometime.”
“Really?” A current tingles through me, right down to my toes. “I’d love to let you. I mean, of course, you can see it, but just the one. You see, I can’t afford any canvases, so I paint over the same one over and over again. I get the paint from my friend Neva. She saves the discards that the contractors leave behind when they refurbish. Mostly beiges and rustic browns, but I’ve added berries to create interesting blues, and cumin for that burst of orange light you get just before the sun dips behind the mountains.”
His features darken. “Where’s the best place to witness this splendor?” His hips dig into my stomach and I can feel him there, pressing into me if only for a moment. “Sorry.” He backs away an inch.
“No, it’s okay.” My cheeks heat on cue. I don’t believe I’ve blushed a day in my life, and here this god, this Caleb lookalike, has me rattled all the way down to my less than innocent bones. “I can tell you where the best place to witness the splendor is, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“I might be able to work the homicide into my novel. You’d better take me.”
“Ha! Maybe I will. I won’t tell you when I’m about to off you. It’ll be a genuine cliffhanger.”
“Duly noted. Never eliminate the element of surprise.”
“I’ll count to three before I hit you over the head with a hatchet—and kill you ontwo.” I give a cheeky wink and he belts out a laugh once again. “How’s that for a surprise?”
“It would have been a good one.” He tips his head my way. “I meant what I said. I’m looking forward to that sunset.”
“Gunning for a second date. I like that. Lucky for you, the very best place to witness the splendor of a tangerine sunset is from the comfort of my bed.”
His features darken once again and we land right back to that awkward place we started at.
Abel is running from something, trying desperately to seek respite on the godforsaken end of the lake. His demons have wrapped their fingers around his neck, and Abel has turned blue on the inside, eyes bulging, his soul all but evaporated. Abel has secrets, a past so darkened with shadows he would rather rot in a tin cell than face whatever it is that binds him.
Abel has a secret so dark and frightening it’s consumed him completely. And I’m determined to winnow the truth from him.
I’m coming for you, Abel.
And I promise that my secret is far darker and damning than yours will ever be.
This much I know is true.
