“I want what’s best for you, too. I want you to be happy.”

That statement throws me. “You don’t think I’m happy?”

She tilts her head and quirks the corner of her mouth as she thinks about that. “Honestly? Not really. I don’t think you are. I watch you a lot, like at the bonfires, and I hardly ever see you smile. You’ve always kinda have this dark broodiness about you.”

“Dark broodiness?” I repeat, slightly offended. “Get outta here. You’ve been reading too many of your grandmother’s romance books.”

She smacks my shoulder playfully. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m being serious.”

“Then don’t call me dark and broody. Fuck. At least give me some better words.”

“Hmmm…” she studies my face, seriously trying to come up with words to describe me. “Okay, I’m gonna go with tortured and romantic.” She says triumphantly.

“Wow…” I look away from her, not really wanting her to see that she’s so right that it hurts.

“What? You don’t like those words either?”

“I think you’re pretty spot on. As usual.” I keep my eyes on a butterfly fluttering around by the waterfall. It reminds me of her, so beautiful and free, innocently playing so close to something that could suck her right into its depths and consume her.

“How would you describe me?” Shyness laces her voice, which is not something I hear in her often.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to face her. “There’s a million words I could use to describe you, Angel. We could be here for days. Weeks, even.”

She giggles. “Just pick two like I did.”

Damn. If I pick the wrong words I could hurt her feelings and I don’t want to ruin the good day we’re having. She watches my face with hopeful anticipation as I search my brain for exactly the right words.

“Okay. I have three.”

“I get a bonus word?” She asks.

“Yes, because you’re that special. So, I’m gonna go with enchanting, adorable, and loving.”

She breaks out into a huge smile. “Enchanting! I love that! I sound like a magical fairy!”

“Something like that.”

Leaning closer to me, she kisses my shoulder, her mouth so close that I can smell the strawberry gloss on her lips and I want to taste it so bad my mouth is practically watering. She wore same stuff the day I kissed her on the couch. The taste stayed on my lips for hours afterward, tantalizing me long after she stormed out and slammed the door in my face. I ache to push her down on this rock and kiss her again right now but I’m fighting that hard. I wanted today to be a day of us spending time together alone and just enjoying each other without any sexual or emotional turmoil.

I was stupid to think that could happen, though, because I can’t be within twenty feet of her now without wanting to kiss every inch of what I glimpsed in her pictures. Or wanting to just stare into her eyes for hours on end and tell her how much I love her.

Now she’s looking out at the river in front of us with a faraway daze in her eye. A few strands of her golden hair have come out of her braid from the ride and are blowing lightly across her cheek. She looks beautiful.

“It’s so pretty and peaceful here,” she says dreamily. “Don’t you wish we could live here, up in the mountains in a little log cabin with the sound of the water around us?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“It might even be better than the little house with the porch and the picket fence.” She adds.

“They both sound great, Angel. And I have no doubt you’ll have one or the other. Or maybe even both someday.”

She turns to me. “It would only be great if you lived in them with me.”

I try not to fall off the ledge we’re sitting on. I hate that she has the ability to completely rock me with just words.

“You’re only eighteen, Kenz. You’ve got lots of time to think about where you want to live and who you think you want to live with, trust me.”

She lets out a short huff. “You’re never going to think of me as an adult, are you?” She accuses, trying to pull her hand out of mine. I hold onto her, not letting her go.

“That’s not true, Kenzi. I do see you as a beautiful, mature, sensual woman. But I also see the little girl I watched grow up, and sometimes it’s hard for me to not see her when I look at you. It’s hard for me to let her go. You have to cut me a little slack and try to understand that.”

She nods and chews her lip. “I’m sorry. I know this is harder for you than it is for me in a lot of ways. I guess I’m a little bit of a brat; I just want to be with you and forget everything else. So that probably is my immaturity showing.”