What she hadn’t been doing was writing. She couldn’t seem to figure out where to start. Nealy was one of the most fascinating women in the world, but Lucy ended up throwing out whatever she wrote about her after a few sentences. Her father wanted a personal account, not a Wikipedia entry. Something was very wrong, but she had no idea what.

When she wasn’t trying to write or helping out at the farm stand, she was thinking about her reverse bucket list. Just that morning she’d slept late, and before she lost her nerve, she’d prank-called two people. “This is a recording. I’m confirming your order for one hundred pounds of fresh manure. If you want it dumped anyplace except your driveway, call us back immediately. Our number is—” And she’d hung up.

Totally juvenile. Moderately satisfying. Especially since she’d used Panda’s phone to make the calls in case they got traced.

As she pulled up to the house, she saw Temple pass by the upstairs windows. Last week Toby had appeared unannounced and seen Temple running up and down the steps to the dock carrying ten-pound weights. Temple was predictably upset—first because she’d been spotted and second because Toby had no idea who she was.

“He’s twelve,” Lucy had told her.

“That’s the way it starts out. First a kid doesn’t know your name. The next thing you know, it’s a forty-year-old soccer mom, and your career is over.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Viper told her. “A fruitcake for the ages.” And then, more kindly, “You’ve already lost at least fifteen pounds, and—”

“Barely fourteen.”

“—and despite what you want to believe, you look fantastic.” She ignored Temple’s derisive snort. “You’re doing what you came here to do, and you should be on top of the world. Instead, you’re meaner than ever. How do you expect to handle real food once you don’t have Panda policing you?”

“Things’ll be different. I’ll handle it.” She’d stormed off.

Lucy knew a lot of women ate their way through breakups, and although Temple hardly ever mentioned Max, their split had to be at the root of her troubles.

Panda’s car was just turning into the drive. He’d begun leaving Temple alone for short periods of time, generally going for a run or taking the kayak out. More recently, he’d made two brief trips into town. She climbed off her bike and watched him step from the car.

The muscles underneath his tight-fitting gray T-shirt were out of control, and although his abs were temporarily covered up, she happened to know they were extraordinary. She, on the other hand, had gained back another five pounds. After a lifetime of never thinking about her weight, she’d been brought low by living in a house full of diet food. Once she was around the real stuff, such as her failed honey caramels, she lost control.

Her weight gain, however, hadn’t affected her current choice of outfit, a trashy blue and black tie-dyed bra top that showed more boob-age than a bathing suit and shorts that didn’t even start until the top of her hip bones. She might as well show them off while they were still visible.

As Panda sauntered toward her, he took in her outfit, from trashy top to platform flip-flops. He cocked his head toward the garage. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” She casually unclipped her nose ring and slipped it in her pocket.

“You know the routine.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to go along with it.”

“I have a job to do.”

She tilted her head and tugged on one of her dreads. “Screw your job.”

“Big mistake.” He caught her arm and forcibly steered her through the shadows at the side of the house toward the garage. When they reached the warped side door, he kicked it open. “Inside.”

“I don’t want to go inside. I want—”

“I don’t care what you want.” He slammed the door behind them.

Murky rays of afternoon light struggled to ooze through a cobweb-draped window. The cluttered garage held old furniture, boxes, broken beach chairs, and a leaky canoe. The air smelled of dust and motor oil, while Panda smelled of blueberries and heat. He turned her and, settling his hand between her shoulders, pressed her to the wall. “Spread those legs.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Good.”

“I have no contraband on me. I swear.”

He gave her his nastiest, most intimidating snarl. “Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I— I guess not.” She set her palms against the rough boards but kept her legs together.

He kicked them apart. “Don’t play ignorant. You know the drill.” His breath ruffled the hair brushing her ears, and his voice was a soft rasp. “I don’t like it any better than you.”

Not much, you don’t.

Her eyes drifted shut as he slid his hands along her sides, from her armpits to her thighs. “I told you,” she said. “I’m clean.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He reached around her, his hands stopping just under her collarbone. And then he lowered his palms and cupped her breasts.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Don’t say what you said last time.”

“What was that?” He nuzzled her ear.

“You said, ‘There’s nothing here.’”

He smiled, slipped his thumbs inside her bra cups, and found her nipples. “I was so wrong.”

By the time he stopped tormenting her breasts and moved to new territory, her knees were weak and her skin hot. He made a play of running his hands over her hips and thighs before he found his prime target. “I think I feel something.”

He wasn’t the only one. “This is illegal,” she said, wiggling her hips.

“Resisting arrest.” His hands tugged at the zipper on her shorts. “Now I’ll have to do a body cavity search.”

“Oh, no. Not that.” She couldn’t have sounded less convincing.

“You brought it on yourself.” He kneed her legs together and tugged off her tight shorts along with her panties.

“I try to be a good person, but it’s hard.”

“You have no idea.” He pressed against her to make his point.

It was amazing how many places he found to explore. Enough for her to offer a weak protest. “A candy bar would never fit there.”

“Always a first time,” he said hoarsely, his breath coming as fast as her own.

“Police brutality,” she managed as he fumbled with the front of his shorts.

“This will only hurt for a minute.”

It wouldn’t hurt at all. As for the “minute …” Not likely. Panda had enormous staying power.

“Brace yourself.” He tilted her hips.

“Wait …”

“Too late.” He took her from behind.

His groan drowned out her gasp. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. She pushed against him as he braced her body in his big hands. Surrounded by the dust and debris of other people’s lives, they played their game, their bodies locked as they used each other, gave, used again. It was primitive sex. Raw and raunchy. Bad-girl sex. Exactly the way she wanted it.

“DON’T LOOK AT MY STOMACH,” she said as she pulled her panties back on.

He brushed her cheek with his finger. “Because?”

“It’s round.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t have to say it like that.” She shoved her legs in her shorts, sucked in her stomach, and zipped them. She’d started the whole strip-search thing when she’d dragged him into the garage after he’d made a quick trip into town. She’d told him she’d gotten a tip that he was trying to smuggle Slim Jims. He said there was nothing slim about his Jim. She’d backed him against the wall and said that was for her to decide. Eventually she had to concede he was right.

“It’s your fault I’m gaining weight,” she said. “Having nothing but diet fucking food in the house makes me crazy.”

His eyebrow gave a gratifying lift, but he didn’t comment on her obscenity. “What about all that crap I feed you every night in the boat?”

“Exactly,” she said. “If I had decent food, I wouldn’t be gorging myself on your junk food stash.”

“You’re right. It is my fault. I promise. No more chips. No more licorice whips. I’m cleaning up my act.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms, as if he wanted to kiss her. But they only kissed when they were in bed—deep tongue kisses that mimicked what was happening with their bodies. Sex with Panda was like being in a porno movie but without a third party involved. He let her go and wandered over to inspect a pile of junk. His restlessness had returned. Unlike herself, the island’s enforced confinement was chafing at him. He wanted action.

She slipped back into her platform flip-flops as he studied a mirror framed in broken seashells and asked, “Didn’t this used to be in the downstairs bathroom?”

“No.” She loved lying. It was a whole new experience.

“Bull. This was there yesterday.”

“Really, Panda, you have lousy powers of observation for a cop.”

“Hell I do. Stop rearranging my house. And stop messing with my pig.”

“You didn’t like the eye patch? I think it’s—” She broke off as she saw Panda pick up a folded piece of yellow notepad paper from the grubby garage floor. She hurried toward him, hand extended. “Must have fallen out of my pocket when you ripped my shorts off.”

“I didn’t rip— What the hell is this?” Like the suspicious person he was, he’d unfolded the paper and started to read.

“Give that to me!” She tried to grab it from him, but he held it out of reach and read over her head.

“‘Reverse bucket list’?”

“That’s private.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” He scanned the page and grinned. “Frankly, I’d be embarrassed to.”

When he finally lowered the paper it was too late. He’d read everything.

REVERSE BUCKET LIST

Run away from home*

Dress like a skank*

Sleep around

Use f-word whenever possible*

Get drunk in public

Make out in public

Smoke a joint

Pick a fight*

Prank call*

Go to bed without taking off makeup*

Swim naked

Sleep late*

Scratch, burp, etc.*

“Go to bed without taking your makeup off.” He blew a long whistle. “That’s living in the danger zone.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of damage that does to your skin?”

“Any time now, I’m sure you’ll work up the nerve.” He jabbed the paper with his finger. “What do all these asterisks mean?”

Good Lucy would have tried to change the subject, but Viper didn’t give a damn what he thought. “The asterisks mark things I’d done by the time I was fourteen but sadly abandoned. I intend to rectify that, and if you think it’s stupid, that’s your problem.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Stupid? Make prank calls? Now why would I think prank-calling is stupid?”

“I probably won’t do that one,” she said innocently.

He took in her tie-dyed bra top. “You’ve got ‘dress like a skank’ under control. Not complaining, mind you.”

“Thanks. I had to order a few things off the Internet, but it’s working out for me.”

“Definitely.” He snapped his fingers at the paper. “Smoking pot is illegal.”

“I appreciate your concern, Officer, but I’m sure that didn’t stop you from doing it.”

He scanned further down. “You never swam naked?”

“Sue me.”

“You’ll let me know, won’t you, when you’re ready to try?”

“If I fucking remember.”

“If you’re going to use the word, at least use it at the right time. You sound ridiculous.” He frowned. “‘Make out in public’? Not with me you won’t.”

“S’okay. I’ll find somebody else.”

“Like fucking hell,” he growled. “And you can mark off ‘sleep around,’ since you’re doing that with me.”

“No way. ‘Around’ implies more than one partner.”

“Already forget about Ted?”

“Doesn’t count. He proposed.”

Panda looked like he had something to say about that, but didn’t. Instead he pointed to a doodle she’d made in the margin. “What’s that?”

Damn. She slapped on her new sneer. “Hello Kitty.”

He grinned. “Badass.”

THE BASIL PLANT ON THE baker’s rack was getting a little droopy. She hopped up from the chaise to water it, pulled some dead leaves off the geranium, and then resettled. She wiggled her pen between her fingers and started to write.

My mother’s dedication to children’s causes had its roots in her teenage years when she visited sick children in hospitals and refugee camps …

Something Lucy’s grandfather was writing about in detail and wouldn’t appreciate Lucy duplicating.

She tore up the page, pulled her reverse bucket list from her pocket, and jotted down a new item.

Blow off homework.

Then she added an asterisk.

BREE HAD NEVER FELT MORE out of place. It was fine for African-Americans to attend white churches—it gave white congregations a pleasant feeling of inclusiveness—but being the only white person in the island’s sole black church made her uncomfortable. She’d never enjoyed standing out. She liked to blend. But as the usher led them down the center aisle of the Heart of Charity Missionary Church, she didn’t see another face as pale as her own.