Untouched A Cedar Cove Novella

lower, taking in the sight of her all over again. The damp hair tangling over her shoulders, the slim curve of her waist, her long legs, bare below her cut-off shorts, pale skin wet and shining in the rain. I have a sudden flash of those legs, wrapped around my waist; her soft lips parted, moaning my name.
    How would she taste?
    The thought whispers in my mind, but I shake it off and drag my eyes back to meet hers. She looks mad as hell, standing tough there in the middle of the highway, like she would try and rip me apart with her bare hands if I touched her, despite the fact I’m twice her size.
    I try not to smile. She’s got guts. “How are you the mad one right now?” I ask, amused. “I’m the one with my truck totally fucked back there.”
    She looks past me to where the truck is buried in the mud. She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, well we’ve got a flat tire and no spare.”
    I grin at her attitude. “What kind of idiot doesn’t keep a spare? We’re miles out from anywhere.”
    Her eyes flash. “Maybe the kind of person who drives in the city, where we have little things like cellphone signal and tow-trucks!”
    I drop the smile. “You’re summer people.” I say. I should have figured: entitled asses waltzing in every year, acting like they own the place.
    “Let me guess,” the girl snaps back. “You’re a townie with a chip on your shoulder. Well, maybe you should save the issues until we both get out of here.”
    My mouth drops open in surprise. I’m about to let it rip about how she’s the one who got us into this mess in the first place, when I look around the empty road and realize, I’m still running late for work, and fighting over it isn’t going to solve anything.
    “Fine,” I admit. “I’ll call for Norm to come get us.”
    She frowns. “I thought there wasn’t signal out here?” The girl pulls a phone from her pocket and checks the screen.
    “I’ve got a CB radio in the truck.” I tell her, turning to head back towards the truck. “Stay there!”
    As I walk away, I hear a sigh.
    “Where else would I go?” she mutters.
    I turn, in time to catch her checking me out: her eyes lingering on my ass. Busted. I grin, watching as her cheeks flush a bright pink. So, she’s not a total ice princess, after all…
    I know I should ignore it, just call in to Norm, and get back on the road. Leave this girl here with whatever’s making her so pissed; stay away from those dark, watchful eyes and those soft pink lips and all the fierce passion she has clearly just lurking beneath the surface.
    But I can’t.
    I want her.
    “You didn’t tell me your name.” I call to her, still half-hoping she’ll tell me to get lost.
    “You didn’t ask!” The girl yells back to me.
    I smile, and wait another second, and then, finally, something in her expression gives.
    She bites her lip.“Juliet.”
    Juliet.
    It figures. The girl was trouble. I didn’t pay too much attention in class, but even I know, Romeo was screwed from the first minute she walked into his life.
    “I’m Emerson,” I call back, and then I can’t help but smile. Because she’s still looking like a dark, pissed-off angel there in the middle of the wet highway. Because for some strange reason, I feel better now, just knowing her name. Because when her eyes meet mine again, there’s a crackle of possibility between us, sweeter than anything I’ve ever known.
    This summer just got a whole hell of a lot more interesting.
    “Welcome to Cedar Cove.”

J ULIET
    The house is just the way I remember it from when I was a kid: sitting squarely in the lush, green yard like something from a picture postcard. There are blue shingles and a white trim, with a wide wraparound porch and a path winding past the house, back to the beach. As we pull off the back-road into the drive-way, I can see the pale sands of the shoreline through a gap in the trees, and hear the sound of the waves, crashing just out of sight.
    The rain has passed now. The scene looks so peaceful, it’s hard to believe I’ve got a tight knot of dread in the pit of my stomach, just at the thought of being stuck here with my family for the whole summer.
    “You OK now, sweetie?” My mom puts the car in park and turns to me, concerned.
    “Fine.” I snap back, tearing the car door open and getting out.
    “Are you sure?” Mom follows me around to the trunk. “Dr. Atkins gave us a prescription, for when you get these panic attacks—”
    “It