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The difference between a goal and an outcome may not be immediately obvious, but it is significant. A goal is something we want, while an outcome is something we get as a result of our actions. The Mom before Dad had died, the one who used to curl up on the couch beside me and read one of her trashy romance novels.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. It certainly was half a country ago.

Victoria Quinn

Ever since Dad died, Mom had started working more and more. She used to want to be home. Then it seemed like she wanted to be as far away as possible. I had decided to ignore my inner compulsive streak and let the boxes be damned today, when the smell of something familiar tickled my nose. Mom was cooking. This was so not good. I raced downstairs. She stood at the stove, dressed in her polka-dotted scrubs.

Only she could wear head-to-toe polka dots and still manage to look good. Mom had this glorious blonde hair that was stick straight and sparkling hazel eyes.

Even in scrubs she made me look dull with my gray eyes and plain brown hair. And somehow I ended up more…round than her. Curvy hips, puffy lips, and huge eyes that Mom loved but made me look like a demented kewpie doll.

She turned and waved a wooden spatula at me, half-cooked eggs splattering onto the stove. She was trying to do mom-stuff. This was huge. That leaves me with three days off. And most parents would probably saw off their left arm before thinking of leaving a teenaged girl at home alone all the time, but not mine. She trusted me because I never gave her reason not to. Well, okay, maybe it was. I was kind of boring. Not then… Grabbing two glasses, I filled them with orange juice Mom must have picked up on her way home.

We have nothing. A grocery trip would be perfect.

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She leaned forward, a twinkle in her eyes. I smiled. I loved the woman, but leave it to her to somehow forget that part. It was seriously gross to hear Mom talking about boys my age. And they were really working earlier.

Double gross. Is this some sort of midlife crisis I need to be concerned about? I think it would be nice for you to make friends before school starts. I dumped my uneaten eggs in the garbage. If you put on one of those pretty sundresses you wore in Florida instead of this.

But seriously, make an effort. The flower bed outside was hideous. Your dad would have wanted that. The sunlight coming through the window reflected off the gold band around her ring finger. I nodded quickly, needing to reassure her. Maybe they can tell me where the store is. You know, make an effort. If you need anything, call me. At least she was trying to change, and I was determined to at least try and fit in here. I bit my lip. Dad had never let life pass him by… And asking about the nearest store was an innocent-enough reason to introduce myself.

This was stupid, but I was doing it. I hurried across the lawn and across the driveway before I chickened out. Hopping onto the wide porch, I opened the screen door and knocked, then stepped back and smoothed the wrinkles out of my shirt. I got this. There is nothing weird about asking for directions. Heavy footsteps came from the other side, and then the door was swinging open and I was staring at a very broad, tan, well-muscled chest.

A naked chest. My gaze dropped and my breath sort of…stalled. Jeans hung low on his hips, revealing a thin line of dark hair that formed below his navel and disappeared under the band of the jeans.

His stomach was ripped. Totally touchable.

And I was staring. My gaze finally traveling north again, I noted thick, sooty lashes fanning the tips of his high cheeks and hiding the color of his eyes as he looked down at me.

I needed to know what color his eyes were. His voice was deep and firm. The kind of voice accustomed to people listening and obeying without question. They were an intense emerald color that stood out in vibrant contrast against his tan skin.

I sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back. A wave of embarrassment heated my face. The boy lifted an arm, brushing back a wavy lock of hair on his forehead.

He glanced over my shoulder, then back to me. My name is Katy. I moved next door. I got that. Something glittered in his green eyes. Not anger, but something else. I took a deep breath. If this dude cut me off one more time…My voice took on the tone my mother used when I was younger and was playing with sharp objects.

He was laughing at me with a healthy dose of condescension. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him.

Go figure. This is obviously a bad time. A dark, mocking eyebrow arched again. I was starting to hate that brow. Maybe thirteen, but my sister has this doll that kinda reminds me of you. All big-eyed and vacant. I reminded him of a doll?

A vacant doll? Warmth burned in my chest, spreading up my throat. Sorry to bother you. Trust me. Or cry. I stopped on the bottom step but refused to turn around and let him see how upset I was. Takes you into Petersburg. Well, maybe you could. They should have things that go in the ground. That was it. How wrong of me to call you a douchebag. He laughed again and bent his head. A mess of waves fell forward, nearly obscuring his intense green eyes.

When I reached my car, I yanked open the door. Tears of anger and embarrassment burnt my eyes. I shoved the keys into the ignition and threw the car into reverse.

Chapter 2 It took the entire drive into Petersburg for me to calm down. Even then there was still a hot mix of anger and humiliation swirling inside me. What the heck was wrong with him? I thought people in small towns were supposed to be nice, not act like the son of Satan. I found Main Street with no problem, which literally seemed to be the main street. Grocery store options were limited.

Saddened by that thought, I headed inside. I was a speed shopper, wasting no time strolling aisles. Soon, my cart was filled to the rim. I am so sorry! I startled you. I do that a lot. She grabbed another one and held it in her slender hands. My first impression of the girl was that she was too beautiful to be standing in a grocery store with a carton of eggs in her hand. She stood out like a sunflower in a field of wheat. Everyone else was a pale comparison. Her dark hair was curly and longer than mine, reaching her waist.

She was tall, thin, and her almost perfect features held a certain innocence. She reminded me of someone, especially those startling green eyes. I gritted my teeth. What were the odds? She grinned. My name is Dee. A cell phone was lying on top of it. You stopped by…asking for directions? Daemon—seemed fitting. And of course his sister would be as attractive as him.

Why not? Welcome to West Virginia, the land of lost models. I was starting to doubt I was going to fit in here. He told me what you looked liked. Curiosity filled her face as she watched me with her intense green eyes. I looked at her sharply. My brother is moody. Even I want to kill him on days that end with a Y. She went from one topic to the next like someone in bad need of Ritalin. I almost ran home to hug him. I followed her gaze. The little boy now had a carton of milk in each hand, which reminded me that I needed milk.

What are you—? Sometimes being around children was the perfect abstinence program. Then again, not like I needed a program. I carried my milk back to where Dee waited, staring at the floor. Her fingers twisted over the handle of her cart, squeezing until her knuckles bleached. Strands of hair had I expected to see someone else. Except it was Dee and…me. Confused, I glanced at the woman. I was shocked to see her dark eyes filled with disgust.

Pure revulsion, and behind that, in the way her lips pressed into a hard line and trembled, there was also fear. And she was staring at Dee. Then she gathered the squirmy boy into her arms and hurried off, leaving her cart in the middle of the aisle. I turned to Dee. The locals are weird around here. Anyway, you must be so bored after unpacking and then grocery shopping. I mean, hell could be devised of those two things.

Think of an eternity of unpacking boxes and grocery shopping? Normally, someone like that would wear me out in five seconds, but the excitement in her eyes and the way she kept rocking back on her heels was sort of contagious. I really came to catch you and was sucked down the ice cream aisle. It calls to me. We can check out together. After a few minutes I got past the difficulty of keeping up with her and actually started to relax.

I hoped she rubbed off on me. The checkout line moved quicker than it did in larger cities. Once outside, she stopped next to a new Volkswagen and unlocked the trunk. They had money, obviously, or Dee had a job. There was no telling how late Mom was going to sleep. I sort of felt sorry for her, being that she was related to such a tool. Having a brother like him must suck. Maybe he was just having a bad day.

I swear. Got any plans? You wanna help? I opened the car door and was about to climb in when the feeling of being watched crept over me. All I could think of was Men in Black. The only thing he needed was that little memory-wiper device and a talking dog. When I stepped outside, I found her standing near the steps, rolling back on the heels of her wedge sandals. The sun cast a halo around her dark head and she had an impish grin on her face. In that moment, she reminded me of a fairy princess.

Or maybe a cracked-out Tinker Bell, considering how hyper she was. I shook my head. She looked timid, hugging her elbows. My hips and butt could attest to that. I eat a bag of chips and gain five pounds. Never been there. Oh, but the beaches. Of course when I first found out, I was like, you have got to be kidding me. We were shocked when we came here.

But…a lot of freedom, I guess. My mom is rarely here either. I used to think that. I knew exactly what she meant. Dark clouds seemed to roll in out of nowhere, casting a shadow across the yard. Dee frowned. They usually last a couple of hours.

I guess we better plan to garden tomorrow instead. Are you available?

Tuesday - July 16,

Dee jumped up from the swing, wiping her hands on her pants. Well, I think your mom is up, and I need to wake Daemon. Mom was in the kitchen, coffee in hand. As she faced me, steaming brown liquid sloshed over the counter. The innocent look on her face gave it away.

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Grabbing a towel, I walked over to the counter. His name is Daemon. Mom blew softly and then took a sip, eyeing me over the rim. You were listening. That is what we do. How else am I supposed to know what is going on? I rolled my eyes and turned to go back into the living room. Chapter 3 The day my Internet was hooked up was better than having a hot guy check out my butt and ask for my phone number. It was like coming home. They had everything needed for me to fix that gross flower bed out front.

Back home, we each grabbed a side of a bag and hauled it out of my trunk. She wiped her hands against each other and nodded. Moving stuff sucks. Dee laughed and twisted her sweat-soaked hair from her neck. She still looked gorgeous, even red- faced and tired. At least now we knew I was too weak to do any real damage. Our idea of a gym is dragging your garbage can to the end of a dirt road or hauling hay. I glanced at her, surprised.

Not likely. Dee and I attacked the weeds with more energy than I thought we had. Later, Dee stared at her chipped nails. Lifting my dirt-stained hands, I winced. My nails were usually chipped. She looked funny in her skirt and wedge sandals, which she insisted were the height of gardening couture, and dragged the rake over to me.

She seemed to consider it seriously, scrunching her nose. He had a green thumb. We made a garden up there, together. Did your parents get divorced? Like ever. Dee paused. When I looked up, she was leaning the rake against the porch. Her entire left arm blurred. I could see the white railing through it. I blinked. Her arm was solid again. You okay? It was whole. Um…my dad, he got sick. It was terminal—in the brain. Seeing things like I did? They started him on chemo and radiation, but everything…went to shit so quickly.

He died about two months later. A new start and all that jazz. In the sunlight, her eyes glistened. Knots formed in my stomach. Dee twisted around, letting out a sigh. His jeans were rumpled, hair tousled and all over the place. He was on the phone, talking to someone as he rubbed a hand along his jaw.

And he was shirtless. Not even in the winter. And hot damn for me. I started digging several holes in strategic places. My throat felt dry. Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys. Daemon stayed on the phone for about thirty minutes, and his presence had a swamping effect.

There was no ignoring him, not even when I had my back to him—I could feel him watching. My shoulder blades tingled under his heavy stare. Once I glanced over, and he was gone, only to return a few seconds later with a shirt on. I kind of missed the view. She tried to wiggle free, but he held her close. A look of hero-worship filled her eyes as she gazed at him.

He should try it more often. Then he glanced over at me and his eyes narrowed, as if he just realized I was there, in my yard. The smile was completely gone. It seemed pretty obvious considering I was covered with dirt and there were several plants scattered around me. I shrugged and picked up a potted plant. Yanking the plant out of its container, I ripped roots right along with it. Be nice. I think I have a hidden talent.

If I had to pick a dream job right now, it would be working with landscaping and the outdoors. Yeah, I sucked butt in the wilderness, but I was at my best with my hands sunk deep into the dirt. I loved everything about it. The numbing it brought, the way everything smelled earthy and rich, and how a little water and fresh soil could bring life back into something that was faded and dying. And I was good at it. I watched every show on TLC.

I knew where to place plants that needed more sun and ones that thrived in the shadows. There was a layered effect, taller and leafy, sturdier plants in the back and flowers in the front. All I had to do was put down soil and voila! Daemon arched a brow. My insides tightened. I guess. We rocked this project. Well, Katy rocked it. I kind of just handed her stuff.

Rinse and repeat. Kicking puppies? The images I got then were totally R-rated, and I could tell by his smug expression he knew it. I grabbed more mulch. I froze.

Pieces of red cedar floated from my fingers. I knew that. Because I liked Dee, I clamped my mouth shut and started spreading the mulch out. I raised my eyebrows. Casting Dee a look, I grinned. And you know what? I kind of like being lame. Dee, however, did not.

Her delicate hands balled into fists. I like her. His face softened. I wanted to kick Daemon for turning his sister into someone clearly starving for friendships. He cursed under his breath, folding his arms. Dickhead was her brother, after all, but that— that was way too much. Now my hands were clenching into fists. There was a strange look on his face. Or want to. And I mean, right in front of me. It was impossible.

But there he was, towering over me and staring down. The intensity in his eyes sent shivers down my arms. I took one back, and he matched my steps until my back bit into one of the tall trees. Daemon bent his head down, his unnatural green eyes taking up my whole world. Heat rolled off his body.

My breath caught. Something flickered in his eyes, but they narrowed again, hiding whatever had been there. The images were back. The two of us. Hot and sweaty. I bit my lip and tried to make my expression blank, but yet again I knew he could tell what I was thinking when his expression turned annoyingly smug. Beyond annoying. What did you think I meant? You get dirty when you do that. A flush spread over my cheeks, down my throat. I swallowed, looking at a distraught Dee.

I know he is. My heart was still racing, pumping blood way too fast. His possessiveness seemed a bit off the charts. It had been…exciting. I promise. I grabbed the empty bags. What the hell had that been about? Never in my life had someone disliked me so strongly. Shaking my head, I dumped the bags in the trash.

Daemon was hot, but he was a jerk. A bully. I was here to stay. I decided my poor car needed a bath instead. Mom would be proud if she had been up, seeing that I was outside during the summer and not chained to my laptop. Other than the occasional gardening stint, I was typically a shut-in.

The sky was clear and the air carried a light musky scent mingled with pine. Seeing my book bag on the back seat caused me to cringe. Next, I got out a bucket and hose and soaped up most of the car, but when I reached over the top of the roof, all I ended up doing was soaking myself and dropping the sponge a dozen times.

I wanted to launch it into the nearby woods. Frustrated, I ended up tossing the sponge into the bucket. Daemon stood a few feet away from me, hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans. His bright eyes sparkled in the sunlight. His sudden appearance had startled me. How could someone move so damn quietly, especially as tall as he was? And hey, he had a shirt on.

Mouth aside, he was drool-worthy. I snapped out of it, preparing myself for the inevitable verbal smackdown. Daemon bent quickly and snatched up the sponge, squeezing out the excess water.

Kind of hot. Not hot. He shrugged. It would be a lot easier. He flashed a half grin at me and started spraying the car with water, the suds running down the sides like an overflowing cup.

What kind of friends does she have? I have to make nice. I folded my arms.

Do you usually stare at guys when you stop over, asking for directions? Do you always stare? That half grin was there again, hinting at dimples. It is summer, you know. I always get up early. No wonder she loves you so much already. His lips twitched. I probably should have helped him sort things out, but it was fascinating watching him take charge of my little cleaning project.

Although he kept tossing me the odd half smile, I could tell this little exchange was awkward for him.

I bet he knew how to kiss. I needed to stop looking at him in general. Daemon placed all the supplies on the porch steps and straightened. Stretching his arms over his head, his shirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of muscles.No one is like Daemon Black.

I think it would be nice for you to make friends before school starts. My name is Katy. He died about two months later. Her delicate hands balled into fists.