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  I throw a tortilla in her face. Direct hit! Wahoo! The soft piece of food smacks the side of her face and then falls to the floor. "You suck, you know that?" She picks up the tortilla and laughs as she joins me at the counter. I'm shredding cheese and don't look up at her. My voice is clipped, irritated. "Do you introduce everyone that way or was it special, just for me?"

  "Lighten up, Yankee." She grabs the avocados and starts to work on the guacamole. She tries to push some loose hairs back from her face without her hands, using her elbow. "He's hot and summer flings are fun. How was I supposed to know you're a goddamn nun? I hardly hear from you all year and then you show up on my doorstep. I thought, 'What would I like to do all summer if I were her?' Duh, Jonny Ferro."

  "How do you even know him?" The Ferro family is filthy stinking rich, filled with brats that never get in trouble for anything. Everyone and their cat knows that family is bad news. "He's a freaking Ferro and we're in the middle of nowhere in Mississippi." I smack some cheese sauce and chicken onto another tortilla and stack it with the others.

  "His family owns that huge-ass white house by the reservoir."

  My hands still and I look at her. "Seriously?" It's gorgeous and all, but there's a glaring question. Why here? We're not anywhere near a major city. Jackson is over an hour away. This is the sticks with trees, trailers, and mansions scattered around a manmade lake.

  She starts on the onions, dicing them into tiny pieces. "Yeah, they banished some crazy relative here a while back and holed him up in that place. The guy only leaves his house to hang out on his yacht, but Jonathan comes down once in a while. I caught him walking across the spillway one night and nearly ran him over with my car. The idiot was walking... can you even imagine?"

  Okay, so walking across the spillway is stupid. Got it. Check. Still don't know why, but it appears that I'm not supposed to, so I don't ask. I'm still annoyed with her for dumping that guy on me. The rich brat is probably used to having girls fall all over him. That look in his eye, right before I left, had to be shock even though I thought it was something else. An uncomfortable twisting fills my stomach whenever I think about him, so I shove the guy out of my mind.

  "Speaking of idiots," I say, changing the conversation, "did my brother happen to call?"

  She shakes her head and tosses the chopped onion in the bowl with teary eyes. "Not that I know of. Aunt Paula doesn't have an answering machine—she thinks it's rude not to call every solicitor back—so it's hard to tell. Where's your cell phone anyway?"

  "Mom took it away before she sent me down here." I bite my lip to stop talking.

  "So, what'd you do?" Robyn stops working and looks over at me. "Come on, spill, Cassie."

  "It's not what I did, it's what it looked like—and it embarrassed the crap out of her. I went to a graduation party for my friend and fell asleep in his bed. I didn't come home until dawn. Some kids took pictures of me sleeping on his bed and Grant climbed in and gave the thumbs up, like he nailed me." I make a face. "Everyone knows Grant's gay. He was just messing around. Short version, my mom saw one of the pictures and sent me down here to pull my act together."

  Robyn is staring at me with dish plate eyes. "So, this is some sort of punishment?" I nod. "What about your Dad?"

  "My mom was spitting bullets about it—what will the neighbors think," I mock her polite voice. Needless to say, Mom and I aren't BFFs. We barely manage to keep things cordial. Dad is the family glue, the peacekeeper, but he didn't stick his neck out for me this time. "Right before I left he came into my room and said some time away would be good for me." So here I am, staying with my Dad's little sister, a relative that I almost never see.

  "Harsh." Robyn laughs and bumps her shoulder into mine as she mashes together the contents in the bowl. "Hey, wouldn't it be hysterical if you ended up in the papers for screwing Jon Ferro? Your mom would shit herself. There are worse things than having a snapshot of you in bed with a gay guy. She needs to get a little perspective."

  I nod and smile tightly at her. My mom needs something, like a different daughter—one that is more like her perfect son. Toby is two years older than me and the perfect child. He's one of those guys that excels at everything and everyone loves him. I'm the opposite. I worked hard to get my grades. I still pulled A's, however since it wasn't without effort, it doesn't count for my mother. Toby is all smiles and confidence, where I'm shy and quiet—a wallflower, forever plain as my mom says.

  Today was the first time that I didn't feel plain. The way Jonathan looked at me, well it was like I was worth looking at. I'm so positively average that no one glances my way twice, so when he did those things that should have gotten him slapped, I felt flattered. I'm such a head case.

  My aunt works crazy hours to keep this little trailer. I guess the politically correct term is mobile home—or manufactured housing—I forget, but it's her house and she's been so nice to me since I walked off the plane. Robyn and I decided to make her dinner since she works late. We ran to the grocery store before coming home and have been getting dinner ready ever since. The conversation drifts all over the place, but Robyn brings it back around to sex.

  "So," she says carefully, as she finishes setting the table. "What's with the no sex thing? Is that your Mom's idea—"

  I cut her off. "No, it's my thing."

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, it's just that I don't know anyone who's proud to be a virgin and you seem to be, so I was wondering what I was missing. That's all. Don't be all pissy at me for weeks. I won't be nosy again. Promise."

  I glance up at her and smile. "You're such a dork."

  "Shut up, virgin."

  The tension between us is gone. I debate how much to tell her, because I want to say something. I know it sounds strange, but it makes sense to me. "At some point, I don't remember when," my voice wobbles a little because I remember exactly when I decided this, and the events around that day are trying to claw their way out of the box in the back of my head. I mentally shove them back down and continue with a smile on my face. "I decided that I wanted my first time to be on my wedding night. It's not religious or anything like that, I just liked the idea of being each other's first and only. It's romantic."

  A male voice rings out behind me, "It's never going to happen."

  Whirling around, I see Jonathan Ferro standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Dark jeans cling to his narrow hips as he leans against the jamb with his sculpted arms folded across his chest. His head is tipped to the side with that mess of dark hair falling into his eyes. My heartbeat races like someone is going to kill me. I stare at him with my mouth open, wondering why he's here.

  "Hey, Jonny," Robyn says, as she crosses the kitchen to the sink.

  "Hey, Rob. Your cousin here is really cute, but you need to get some things through her naïve little head before some big nasty boy crushes her heart." He pushes off the doorway and walks into the room without looking at me. I hate the way he talks about me like I'm invisible, like I'm a child that's too stupid to know better.

  "It's not naïve," I counter, glaring at him.

  "It is too." He reaches for the bowl on the table and pops an olive into his mouth before he rounds on me. Leaning back against the old beat up island, he says, "Think about it for a second, you're only interested in putting out for a guy that's never had a chick before? That's going to land you a gay guy or a liar. Every guy has had sex by the time he's our age. You're looking for a guy that doesn't exist." His cobalt eyes burn into mine. It feels like I've been scolded, slapped across the face.

  "You're an asshole. Who invited you here anyway?" I sneer at him, clutching my fingers by my sides. He has no right to judge me. He doesn't even know me.

  Grinning, he says, "Your aunt likes me." His hands move behind his back and he rocks on his toes. It's a juvenile gesture that's as clear as sticking out his tongue and nah-nah-ing me.

  I take the bait. "And you'll lower yourself to schlep food from the dinner table inside a trailer? How kind of you."


  "Cassie," my aunt's voice rings out behind me. Damn it. Why is everyone sneaking up on me today? "Mind your manners. Really." She hangs up her coat on a hook by the door. The floor creaks as she crosses the narrow room and heads for the kitchen.

  I try to apologize but she just holds up her hand. "People live in different kinds of homes, Cassie. It's not the castle that makes the man, it's the heart. Kindhearted people can be kings or paupers." Her old gray eyes lock with mine. My Dad has those eyes and they do the same thing when he gives me that look.

  My stomach grows cold and I nod. "Yes, Aunt Paula." I don't mean to, but I glance up at Jonathan. I expect to see a smug look on his face, but it isn't there. Instead, his eyes flash with concern and his lips are parted just enough to ask if I'm okay—after I acted like an asshole.

  Robyn breaks the tension and slaps the hot dish down on the table. "Sit, eat. Stop arguing and act like a goddamn family."

  Aunt Paula sighs, "Language, Robyn." Robyn pulls out Aunt Paula's chair and scoots her in.

  "Sorry, I forgot. I haven't been out here in a while."

  "You're welcome anytime Robyn." Aunt Paula smiles at my cousin who isn't really my cousin anymore. She's my ex-step-grandfather's wife's granddaughter. She's not blood, but she doesn't need to be. If something were horribly wrong, Robyn would be there in a blink. I can't even say that for my own mother.

  Water is thicker than blood, at least that's true for me.

  Aunt Paula's table is a small circle. We bump elbows, and normally I don't care, but Jonathan is on one side. I swear he's bumping me on purpose, first with his elbow and then with his knee. I take a bite of my dinner and look at him. "So freeloader, what are your summer plans?"

  Jonathan grins. "You're my summer plans." He doesn't elaborate. Instead, he stuffs half a quesadilla into his mouth and chomps away.

  Robyn gives me a lopsided smile. "You might have to make other arrangements Jonny-boy. My girl Cassie here seems to think that you're only after one thing."

  Aunt Paula looks appalled. Her food falls to her plate as her jaw drops. "Robyn!"

  Jonathan reaches out and pats my aunt's hand. "It's all right. I have a bad reputation, Ms. Barrett. Robyn is just looking out for your niece."

  Aunt Paula eyes him and leans back in her chair. "So, out with it. What'd you do this time?"

  Jonathan has a sheepish look on his face. "What makes you think I did anything? Maybe I just wanted to visit my uncle for the summer and have dinner with you fine ladies."

  Aunt Paula shakes her head. "God bless your mother. You're a real handful."

  Jonathan has no witty comeback, no quick retort. Instead, his eyes drop and he just nods. Someone has some serious mommy issues. I wonder what they are and if they're as screwed up as mine.

  CHAPTER 8

  JONATHAN

  Those lips are burned into my mind. Dreams flutter behind my eyelids, making it impossible to sleep. Her impossibly sinful mouth, and the fact that Cassie seems to detest me, makes it hard to stop thinking about her. She's crazy, she has to be with notions like hers. I start to drift off again and see those perfect porcelain legs walking away from me. My mind replays the day again, always starting on Cassie and working backwards through the memories. Soft skin brushes against my lips as I kiss her cheek, and I inhale deeply. The light, sweet, scent she wore fills my head and makes me want her.

  Mind wandering, I drift off picturing her next to me. Her face above mine, before she slowly sits up. Her clothes are gone and so is that irritating smile. Cassie looks down at me and slips her hand over my bare stomach, her perfect little fingers tracing each muscle. I watch her body as she breathes, happy to be near her. When she leans over, my pulse skyrockets. Her hair tickles my skin as her lips trail kisses down my chest, and past my waist. When her hot lips wrap around me, I can't control myself. I try to hold her, to give her what she wants, but the scene shifts and I know I'm dreaming.

  I'm in my old room. The lights are out and the voice in my ear isn't Cassie's. It's hers—Monica's. "Does that feel good, baby?"

  I dart upright, my heart racing too fast, with my body covered in sweat. What would've happened next is a fucking nightmare. My mind recognized it as soon as Monica's voice snaked through my mind. Pushing off the bed, I walk to the bathroom and splash water on my face.

  When I head back to bed, I can't sleep. Guilt gnaws at me like it just happened. "Sex doesn't matter," I tell myself. It doesn't, it can't. It's something to do to pass the time. It means nothing and it never will.

  After a second, I text Robyn. U up?

  A few seconds later she writes back, No.

  Your cousin hates me. I don't know why I'm telling her this. I just type whatever comes to mind. It's too late to be bothering her, and having written proof of anything is stupid, but it's Robyn. What's the worst she can do, show her cousin and Cassie laughs at me?

  I hate u 2.

  Ignoring her, I type, Is she serious?

  About?

  Did you really just ask me that? About the virgin thing. Telling a guy that she's holding onto her V-card, no you can't have it, and then gloating about it like virginity is something special—it's totally insane.

  What do you want, Jonny?

  What do I want? I want to nail your cousin. No, well, I do—but that's not the main thing. I need to know how she got there, why she's nearly twenty and actively refusing sex. It's insane. Doesn't she want it? How does she handle the urges? I picture Cassie with her hand down her panties and, oh fuck—that was a mistake.

  Clearing my mind, I focus on why I'm bothering Robyn in the middle of the night. It's because she has something that I want. Then it hits me, I want to know Cassie better. I want to know why she thinks the way she does.

  I think you're asking the wrong person.

  I can't ask her. I don't even know her.

  But you want to...?

  I can picture Cassie's smile—the genuine one that she was wearing for a few seconds today. I want to put that look on her face. I want to know what makes her laugh, scowl, and grin. I want that version of her that I only saw when I shocked the hell out of her and her guard dropped for half a beat. Yeah, I do.

  Go over there in the morning. Bring food. Don't leave when she tries to throw you out.

  And...?

  And get to know her, dumbass.

  You're so eloquent when you're tired.

  Fuck you. TTYL.

  A vague plan forms in my mind and I smile. I wonder if it's really that simple. There's only one way to find out.

  CHAPTER 9

  CASSIE

  It's 8:30am and someone is pounding on the metal screen door. It rattles like crazy until the hammering stops. I roll over and pull the blankets over my head. I planned on sleeping for another hour and there's no way in hell I'm opening the door. I'm pretty sure I'm in the 'hood part of the countryside with wild bears, rednecks with rifles, and stuff like that.

  The knocking starts again. Moaning, I throw back the blankets and tug my hair away from my face and into a sloppy ponytail. I rub the sleep from my eyes and peer between the mini blinds in my room to look out at the front porch. Fuck. Is he serious? I glance down at my jammies and decide there is no way in hell that I am ever opening the door.

  Just as I turn to go back to bed, Jonathan says, "I know you're there, so open the door. I have breakfast."

  Padding down the narrow hall, I go to open the door with the idea that I'll chew him out and threaten to hit him in the head with a frying pan if he doesn't leave me alone. My heart thumps inside my chest as I reach for the knob. When I yank it back, I want to kill him. Jonathan looks perfect in his crisp cream T shirt and dark jeans, while I look like I just rolled out of bed. I don't unlock the screen door. Instead I fold my arms over my chest and stare at him through bits of rust. "Are you insane?"

  "Probably." He smirks at me, and that smile sends a shiver through my body.

  "And you think that's the best thing to say to get me to open the doo
r?"

  He waits a beat and then grins, saying, "I promise not to have sex with you."

  "You're such an ass." I flick the lock on the screen and let him in. When Jonathan walks past me I get a whiff of his cologne. God he smells good. "Did you drown yourself in a vat of aftershave?"

  He nods. "Just for you, baby. I figured, why make it easy for you to keep your hands off of me?"

  "It doesn't make it harder, if that's what you think. I don't even like that cologne." Actually, I love that scent and I'm wondering how he found out. I may have to kill Robyn later.

  Jonathan places two white bags down on the table and turns around and looks at me. "Eat your breakfast, crazy girl."

  He slides a bag across to my seat, opposite him. It has everything from the McDonald's breakfast menu inside. My stomach grumbles at the scent of pancakes and grease. Yum. I pull out the food and dig in.

  Jonathan watches me for a little bit before saying, "I've never met anyone like you."

  "Likewise."

  "It's refreshing. You're not trying to impress me and you seriously don't seem to care about my massive fortune. You haven't mentioned my brother killing his wife or asked where he buried the missing gun..." he smiles at me. "You didn't live in a cave or something before you came here, right? Or an asylum, maybe? You know what family I'm from, right?"

  "Yes," I laugh and toss a piece of my pancake at him.

  He's from the notorious Ferro family. They have too much money to know what to do with and the heir of the family fortune seems to be cursed. First, Sean, the eldest was the heir, and there was that whole mess with his wife. I'm not sure if he killed her or not. Just because someone doesn't cry it doesn't mean they're guilty. The media played up how stoic Sean had been at the time, like it automatically made him a murderer. Then, control of the fortune was passed to the middle brother, Peter. He had something horrible happen and has been mostly off the map. Then there's Jonathan, the youngest and newest heir. The things I've heard about him don't line up with this sock with sandal wearing guy. Maybe the press just makes crap up. Another story, another dollar, another day. Yes, I'm jaded. So sue me.