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.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He licks his lips. “I’m trying my very hardest not to look at your amazing body.”

I tilt my head. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to think I’m some disgusting pig who just wants to drool all over you,” he says. “Although, side note, I do want to drool all over you. I just don’t want to be piggish about it.”

I roll my eyes. “If we’re going to take a shower together, you might as well look at me now.”

He drops his eyes and his gaze darkens with desire, which in turn makes me aroused. I really like that he really likes what he sees—and that’s never happened to me before.

I’m usually nothing but embarrassed or uncomfortable when I let a guy see me naked, or almost naked. The moment my clothes come off is usually the very same moment the guy’s eyes become vacant and he stops viewing me as a human being and starts treating me like his personal sex vessel.

But Daren’s eyes aren’t vacant at all as they stroke the outline of my panties and the curve of my hips. In fact, they’re full and swimming with more emotions than I can count. White-hot desire blazes in their depths, but so do awe, happiness, nervousness, and hope.

He pulls them up to my face. The same emotions continue to flicker in their brown depths as he scans my eyes, which only makes me want to show him more of my body.

“Do you have a pair of scissors?” I ask.

He blinks, clearly not expecting that question. “Uh… maybe.” He shuffles through a few bathroom drawers and finds a small pair of hair scissors. “Will these work?”

“Perfect.” I take them from his hand and start to cut along the seam of my royal blue shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Since we can’t take our shirts off and I don’t feel like wearing the same shirt another day in a row, I’m cutting mine off.” I finish and the shirt falls away from my body, drifting to the floor in a dirty blue heap and leaving me standing in just my black bra and panties.