I hold up my own cookie half. “Here’s to poverty.”

“And homelessness.”

“And scavenger hunts for money,” I say.

We tap our cookies then each take a bite. Our eyes hold for a beat and I’m suddenly acutely aware that we’re alone in the dark, and a ping of desire races through me.

His eyes drop to my mouth and I absently lick my lips. It wouldn’t be completely crazy for me to give in to what I want, would it? I’m an adult, after all, and just because I don’t usually want to be with a guy doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be with one. Sure we’re in handcuffs and covered in filth, but just because the setting isn’t ideal doesn’t mean the instinct is wrong… right?

Right?

My gaze falls to his lips and we lean toward each other. His hot breath feathers across my jaw as our mouths meet, ever so slightly. I want to taste him again and shove my hands in his hair. I want to—

A flash of bright light bursts into the house and we jump back, temporarily blinded. At first I think it’s the police. They’ve discovered us breaking and entering into this giant mansion that belongs to the bank, and now we’re going to be poor homeless people in jail.

But then I realize it’s only a pair of headlights from a car turning down the street and I let out a sigh of relief. We look at each other with nervous little laughs.

“One of the pitfalls of living here,” Daren says. “You never know when you might get busted.”

“You are a true daredevil.”

“I try.” He smiles, but the sizzle in the air has vanished and now it’s just awkward between us. He looks down at our muddy clothes. “We should probably wash up. This place might not have any furniture, but it does have hot running water.”

“Oh man. A shower would be great,” I say, rolling my head back. After suffering the Quickie Stop’s icy dribbles and pet spiders all week, anything warm and critter-free would be just heavenly.

“Come on,” he says, carrying my suitcase.

We walk up the grand staircase, down a wide hallway on the second floor, and into a large bedroom on the right. He flicks on a light switch.

In the corner is a queen-size mattress lying directly on the floor, no bed frame, and covered in bedding that probably cost more than a month’s worth of rent on my old apartment. Beside the mattress is a small table stacked with books, a half-empty box of crackers, and a few papers.

Through the open double doors of the closet hangs a small collection of very expensive clothes and off to the side is a private bathroom, with an elaborate walk-in shower and separate garden tub.

Daren definitely lives in style—or used to, at least.

“Nice room,” I say. Then stare in confusion at the only window in the room. It’s above his bed and completely covered with cardboard.

He follows my gaze. “That’s so no one can tell someone’s inside the house when I have a light on in here.”

“Gotcha.” I nod then point to the books on the table. “You’re a reader?”

He nods. “Sometimes.”

“Huh.” I run a finger down the book spines. “What’s your favorite book?”

He smiles sheepishly. “All those are pretty good. But my favorite book of all time is actually a children’s book called Holes.”

“Really? Why is that?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s about this kid who has a bunch of bad things happen to him even though he didn’t do anything wrong. I guess I sympathize with that or something.”

I study him for a moment, surprised by his confession, and then look around. “You don’t own a copy of Holes?”

His expression looks strained for a brief second. “Uh… I used to, but not anymore.”

I want to ask why, but the shadows in his eyes make me hesitate. My breath catches as my eyes drift to a velvet-lined box on the small table. Inside is a tremendously ornate diamond necklace. It sparkles so brilliantly it almost looks like its own source of light. “What is that?”

Daren follows my gaze and picks up the shiny necklace. “This was my mother’s. My dad gave it to her for their anniversary when I was little.”

“It’s stunning,” I say in awe. “Is it real?”

“Oh yes. It’s real and worth a sick amount of money.” He looks at the diamonds. “Over the past few years, I’ve had to sell or pawn pretty much all of my family’s possessions. But I couldn’t let go of this.”

“Because it’s too valuable?” I nod.

“It’s more than that.” He swallows. “My parents weren’t really involved with me, you know, so most of my memories of them are really stoic. But the day my dad gave this necklace to my mom, she was elated. I’d never seen her in such a good mood. She pranced around the house all giddy. My dad turned on some music and the two of them started dancing in the living room, laughing and singing along with the song. I was seven at the time and had never seen them goof around like that so I couldn’t help but watch. My mom saw me spying on them and waved me over. I ran to their arms and the three of us danced together in the living room like a happy family. It’s the best memory I have of my parents. And it was all because of this necklace.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I know it seems crazy because I could probably sell this thing and pay off most of Connor’s medical bills. But I don’t know.” He looks at the sparkling stones. “I can’t bring myself to sacrifice my only souvenir of that day for money.”

Watching him, I feel a piece of my heart break off and deliver itself into Daren’s hands, permanently. He somehow got a hold on me and now it’s too late for me to wriggle free, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

“I like that you kept it,” I say.

He scans my face. “And I like that you like that.”

A beat passes.

“So why do you choose to stay here?” I ask, changing topics as I glide my eyes over his room. “Why not crash with one of your buddies?”

He shrugs and places the necklace back into the velvet casing. “Because even if they said I could stay for free, I’d still feel obligated to pay rent. Besides, most of my friends are snobs so I don’t really talk about my, uh, circumstances. I doubt they’d be very understanding if they knew how broke I was.”

“Then they’re not real friends,” I say, growing defensive on Daren’s behalf. He shouldn’t need to hide his circumstances in order to be accepted. “What about your many adoring lady friends? I’m sure they’re very understanding.”

He scoffs. “Like I would tell women.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiles bitterly. “My ‘lady friends’ think I’m still living the good life, surviving off of some hidden bank account my father gave to me before he went to jail. I have the Porsche to thank for that assumption. They have no idea all my family’s money is gone. If they did, they’d probably forget I existed. Women are shallow like that.”

I open my mouth to protest, but realize he has a point. “Huh. I guess it’s kind of the same the other way around too. If I looked different than I do, or if I grew warts all over my face and shaved my head, guys would probably stop paying attention to me too,” I say. “But not all women are shallow.”

He shrugs. “Most of the women I know.”

I prop a hand on my hip, my defensiveness growing into anger. “Then you need to meet different women.”

“I’m not saying you’re shallow,” he says, leaning in. “I’m just saying that if the women in this town knew just how poor and homeless Daren Ackwood was, they wouldn’t be waving to me at the bar. That’s just the way it is.”

“So you lie to them instead?”

“No, I let them believe their assumptions about me.”

“Because otherwise you’d be shunned.”

“Not shunned, exactly. Just… undesired. Women don’t want to take a homeless guy home with them.”

I sadly nod. “And if you aren’t wanted for sex then you have nothing else to offer.”

“Exactly—what? No.” The smug smile he just had on quickly vanishes. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Yes, it is. God. Would you listen to yourself?” I search his face. “You shouldn’t have to lie to get people to like you. And if you do, then those people aren’t worth your time. Where you live doesn’t matter, Daren. Money doesn’t matter—”

“I know that,” he snaps. “But other people don’t. And this town—this whole world—is filled with other people. Is it so bad that I want them to wave to me at the bar?”

I stare at him, rolling his words over in my head. “I didn’t wave at you.”

“What?”

“At the bar the other night.” I shrug. “I didn’t wave at you.”

“Right. You refused to even shake my hand. You were a little judgmental when you first saw me at Eddie’s office so you put me on your shit list and wrote me off because you assumed I was rich and arrogant.”

“Exactly.” I point at him. “I didn’t like the Daren Ackwood who had money and fast cars and a mansion in the hills. But the real you—the dirt-poor Daren who always took care of my dad’s garden and pays off some poor guy’s medical bills and smiles all the time, even when shit goes wrong—I like that guy. And I’ve never even had sex with you.” I pull back, wishing I could slap some sense into this ridiculously beautiful and dreadfully insecure guy. “So what does that do to your whole theory about women liking you for money and sex, huh?” I lower my voice. “It blows a hole right through it, that’s what.”

He stares at me in silence, dozens of emotions flicking across his eyes. My heart pounds as I meet his gaze and the room feels thick, like time has frozen us in place. Perhaps that passionate little rant of mine was too much. I do this sometimes. I want to encourage people so badly that I overstep my boundaries.

And let’s be honest here, I pretty much just told the guy that I like him. Which is all very third grade and awkward as hell, but I don’t give a damn. Daren needs to know that he’s wrong about his self-worth, that he’s important regardless of what he does or doesn’t have. And it sure as hell doesn’t sound like anyone else in his life is going to tell him that.

He keeps staring at me until it starts to feel uncomfortable. Why doesn’t he say something? I realize I didn’t really set him up for a great comeback or response, but come on. At least nod or something.

Taking a step forward, he moves to stand before me. The short chain between our handcuffs softly jingles as I tip my chin to look up at him.

He leans in a bit so our faces are just an inch apart and sinks his eyes deep into mine. Then quietly he says, “I see you.”

For a moment, I’m too stunned to speak and incredibly moved by the fact that he listened last night when I spoke about my appearance. His words are more than just a response, they’re a gesture, and aside from throwing myself into his arms, I don’t know what to do with them.

So I just nod and clear my throat. “I’m sorry I was judgmental of you. I made assumptions about your wealth and character, and that was unfair of me. I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t any better,” he says. “I thought you were some spoiled princess, living off your daddy’s trust fund money all these years. That was lame.” He hangs his head a little. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

I smile. “We’re cool.”

He smiles back and echoes, “We’re cool.”

“So about that shower…” I say, gesturing to our muddy state.

“Ah, yes. Follow me.” He leads me into the bathroom and turns on the shower. Water sprays down, steaming up the bathroom as he lifts our connected wrists and frowns.

“So I guess we’re showering together, then?”

I nod. “I guess so.”

“Excellent.” He gives me a devilish grin. “Group showers are my favorite.” He starts taking his pants off and I hold up a hand.

“We’re not showering together naked.”

“Why not?” He stops unbuttoning his jeans.

“Because.”

He smiles. “Because…?”

“Daren.”

“Okay, fine,” he says. “But I’m not showering in my dirty jeans. These babies are coming off.” He yanks his pants off and I can’t help but stare at his body, wanting to run my hands up his legs and sink my teeth into his ass.

But I won’t do that. Probably.

I look down at my own dirty jeans and frown. Showering with them on would be pointless. I quickly take them off, already feeling myself start to blush as I avert my eyes from Daren’s and kick my jeans over to my suitcase, feeling a tiny bit nervous about being half-dressed around him. Which is ridiculous.

When I finally look up, Daren’s eyes are carefully fixed on my face and obviously struggling to stay there.