by Tari Faris
She tried the same, but hers splashed down about three feet from the boat.
Nate pointed to part of her pole. “You have to press that button as you cast it forward.”
She tried again and it went about fifteen feet. Good enough.
“Having fun?” Nate leaned back and crossed his legs.
“I just choose to believe that we’re simply in two feet of water and there are no fish in the lake.” Her bobber moved. Olivia screamed but held on. “You said this wouldn’t catch anything.”
Nate sat forward. “Fish are fickle creatures.”
“Not helpful. What do I do now?” The line darted under the surface of the water.
“We have to pull it in and get the hook out of its mouth.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take care of it. Hand me the pole.”
“No, I can do this. I have to do this.” She drew a slow breath and gripped the pole with two hands. “Tell me what to do.”
He pointed to the crank by her hand. “Wind the reel.”
She did and prayed for calmness with each turn of the handle. It wasn’t tugging too much, so the fish couldn’t be very big. She could handle a small fish. When it surfaced, the thing couldn’t have been more than six inches long. She held it up by the line. “I caught a fish. I shall call him Nemo.”
He released a small chuckle, then reached for the glorified minnow and undid the hook. “Maybe you’ll be a fisherman after all.”
He tossed the little guy back in just before his rod began to move. Maybe fishing could be fun. Nate grabbed his pole and began to reel it in. He made it seem effortless, but his pole seemed to bend a lot more than hers.
She eyed the water and watched for Nemo’s brother to appear. Instead of a cute little fish, a wide mouth with tentacles on its lips appeared. As the rest of the body surfaced, Olivia’s heart rate doubled. It had to be over a foot long and the ugliest fish she’d seen in her life.
Her breaths were coming faster. Why wasn’t there enough oxygen in the great outdoors? “Wh-what is that thing?”
“Catfish.” Nate eyed her, the fish still tugging against the line. “Sorry. I won’t pull him into the boat, but I need to get the hook out.” He grabbed it by the mouth, tipping the boat to one side.
Olivia screamed and gripped the sides.
Deep breath. She could do this.
Nate worked again to free the hook. “Almost done.”
The fish thrashed in the water, splashing water over the side of the boat.
The next thirty seconds were a blur. Olivia scrambled back, which set Nate off balance. She may have stood up. Who stands up in a boat? Maybe a person who can think of nothing but getting away from that fish. Nate yelled her name just before cold water stole every thought.
Cold took on a whole new meaning when it was shooting knives at every inch of his skin. Nate surfaced and scanned the water. The boat floated a few feet away. His favorite pole was a complete loss. With any luck, the catfish got free first. Olivia floated about ten feet away, kicking her feet wildly as her hands splashed in every direction.
He swam toward her. “What are you doing?”
“Scaring the fish away.” Her voice was winded. The girl was going to wear herself out.
“You don’t have to do that. They’ll simply be afraid of you in the water.”
“But what if—”
“I promise. They won’t get you. But I can’t get close with you kicking like that. Stop and I’ll help you get to the shore before we freeze to death.”
Her kicking slowed, but when she spoke a tremble filled her voice. “I can’t do this.”
He swam a bit closer. “You already are. Just remember, two feet of water—no fish.”
She tried to move in his direction but seemed to be fighting the life vest. “If it were two feet we wouldn’t have to swim.”
He swam next to her and slid his hand around her middle. “Fine. Six feet of water—no fish.”
Her muscles softened at his touch and she gripped his shoulders. Keeping one arm around her, he used his free arm to swim them toward shore.
They crossed the path of one of the oars and he reached out for it. “Can you hold on to this?”
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped it with two hands. “Where’s th-the oth-ther one?”
“Drifting toward those overhanging trees with the boat. With any luck, the trees will stop them from going too far.”
“Do you n-need to g-go af-fter them?” Her chin shook as shivers raked her body.
“Let me get you to shore first. Try to relax. You’re safe. I promise.”
The warmth of her body next to his warmed his veins up a bit. He’d tried to rationalize over the past months that his attraction to Olivia was just a natural physical response. He was a man and she was beautiful. There was nothing unique or special about it.
But after having her arms wrapped around him on the bike and now this—even with the ridiculously large life vest—Nate didn’t think he could keep lying to himself. After all, Libby was beautiful and it didn’t bother him to think of her spending time with Austin. But just the idea of Olivia with Ted had choked his thoughts all week. He’d gotten nothing done at work in days. His sermon on Sunday would show it too.
Nate’s foot hit the ground and he turned to grab Olivia under the legs.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“I can stand, but it’s about six inches of muck before anything solid. I thought you’d prefer not to walk in it.”
She buried her face in his shoulder, a citrus scent still lacing her hair despite the lake water. “Yuck—don’t tell me.”
He chuckled. “You asked.” He stepped out of the water and found a flattened spot of grass before setting her down.
“I lost my shoes.” She stood shivering as she hugged her life jacket.
He untied the straps of the vest and helped her lift it off. “Let me go get the boat and pull it up on shore so it doesn’t float away.” He walked down to where the boat had caught in the trees and waded in.
It would be easiest to hop into the boat and paddle it back to where they had gotten in, but one look at Olivia shivering in a ball and he knew he couldn’t do that to her. He’d get her someplace warm and then come back for the boat.
He tugged the boat back up on shore, tossed the life jacket and oars inside, and jogged back to Olivia. He picked her up again, her soft curves fitting perfectly against him.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You have no shoes. You can’t walk through the underbrush without shoes. I’ll carry you over to the ice-fishing hut. I think I left some clothes in there.”
“I’m too heavy to carry that far.”
He laughed but Olivia just scowled. She really thought she was too heavy? “I think I can handle it. Now relax.”
Olivia buried her face in his chest, which had more to do with keeping warm than with intentionally driving him crazy—but she was doing that just fine without even trying.
Nate did all he could to keep his mind on the task at hand and not on the woman in his arms. It wasn’t working. He set her down on her feet next to the small structure and walked in. It wasn’t a fancy ice shanty, but it had the basics.
The heater and most of the supplies had been cleaned out, but on a sunny day in February, he’d shoved some extra layers in one of the cabinets built along the wall. And if Luke hadn’t bothered . . . Nate popped open one cupboard and then the next. Bingo. He pulled out a thermal shirt, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sweatpants.
Olivia stepped in behind him. “Wow. It’s so cute.”
Cute? He’d never thought of a fishing hut as cute. He was pretty sure Chet had made it with scrap lumber.
He held out the clothes. “You’ll freeze on the back of the bike like that. Get changed. Then we can head back to town and I’ll drop you off at your place, or . . .”
Why had he said “or”? “Or” wasn’t a good idea. The longer he spent with Olivia, the more his resolve
weakened. But he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet.
He looked up. She was hanging on his words, waiting for the “or.” Maybe she wasn’t quite ready to end the day either.
“Or I can start a fire while you change.” His voice came out rough, and he cleared his throat. “Then we can warm up a bit before we ride back.”
Her eyes lit up. Oh, he was on dangerous ground here. “A fire sounds nice. It’d be good for you to warm up too.”
Warming up didn’t seem to be his problem.
Nate exited the hut, shutting the door behind him. He gathered some wood and brush, ignoring the little voice in his head calling him all kinds of fool. Then again, he was already in over his head when it came to Olivia. He might as well enjoy a bit of the drowning.
The fire sparked to life with little encouragement. He’d just added another log when the door to the ice hut creaked open.
His sweatshirt and sweatpants were much too big and hid any trace of her figure, but Nate struggled to keep his mind from wandering where it shouldn’t. Maybe it was seeing her in his clothes that felt intimate, natural, right. Or maybe it was the way her teeth worried her lip. Whatever it was, it took every ounce of strength Nate had to keep from closing the space and kissing her the way he’d wanted to since their first date over a year and a half ago.
“I thought you might want to wear this.” She held up the thermal shirt.
“Thanks.” He turned his back to her as he ungracefully peeled off the wet shirt. He tossed it aside with a slop and reached back for the thermal shirt, but she was no longer holding it out. “Can I have the shirt now?”
“I want to see your tattoos.”
“What?” He angled more toward her but still kept his left shoulder facing away.
“I want to see your tattoos.”
“No you don’t.” He held out his hand again.
She shook her head and held the shirt closer to her chest. “Yes I do. I’ve seen most of them anyway.”
Maybe she was right. She had this elevated view of him. Maybe it’d be best to show her his feet of clay right up front.
Nate faced her, giving her a full look at all his markings. Warmth crawled up his skin as she moved closer, studying each mark.
“I know ‘master of my fate’ was the first, but what was the second?”
This was it. The moment she’d get a real look at who he was. He pointed his left shoulder toward her. Four simple capital letters. JESS.
She nodded as if it didn’t matter. But it did. If she cared for him even a fraction of what he felt for her, seeing someone else’s name on him like a claim of ownership had to sting.
Her fingers reached out and traced the letters. “That must have hurt.”
“No more than any of the others.” He kept his eyes on the woods, willing himself not to look at her. Not to enjoy her touch.
“I don’t mean the tattoo.” Her pale blue eyes looked into him. “You don’t take relationships or tattoos lightly, so I’m guessing when things with Jess ended, it hurt.”
He offered a slight shrug. “She woke up and realized she deserved better than me. She was right. She’s now married and has three kids: Chase, Aaron, and Lincoln.” His heart suffered a familiar pinch.
She dropped her hand and locked eyes with him. “She didn’t deserve better. You just had a lot of growing up to do.”
Growing up? That was an understatement. He’d been nothing but selfish—turned out, even worse than his uncle. He reached for the thermal shirt, but she didn’t yield. “She was right to end things.”
“What was your third one?”
“This tribal tattoo that covers my shoulder.” He angled his right shoulder toward her.
“Is that what that is? What’s the meaning?” She leaned closer, studying it. Her warm breath drifted across his skin.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It means I was very drunk after Jess and I broke up and I wanted a large tattoo to cover her name.”
Her brow pinched. “But her name is on—”
“Like I said, I was very drunk.” He crossed his arms as Olivia tried to hide her smile and failed. “You sure you want to hear all of this?”
She mimicked his gesture. “Yes. Does the tribal tattoo have meaning?”
“Not that I’ve been able to find. Some do. But from what I can tell, this is more just art that they were featuring at the place I got it.”
“Did you ever consider getting another one to cover ‘JESS’?” She inspected the letters again.
“No. At the time I thought it was a sign we’d get back together. And now . . . I just haven’t.”
She waited for more of an answer. But he wasn’t ready to talk about why he still had it.
When he didn’t offer any other information, she examined his tattoos again. “What came next?”
He turned his back to her so she could see the one between his shoulder blades. “It’s called a triquetra. I got it just after my mom died. She was Irish and loved all things Irish. I wanted something to remember her by but refused to get the Celtic cross since I was still doing all I could to run from God at that point. But God has a sense of humor, because later I found out that this is also referred to as the Trinity Knot. It was used by the Irish for generations to represent the Holy Trinity.”
“Even when you were running from God, He never stopped pursuing you.” Her fingers traced the lines of the knot, and he fought to keep still.
“You could say that.” He drew a slow breath and faced her. He pointed to the Greek letters over his heart. “This is the last.”
“What does it say?” She reached out but stopped before touching him.
“It’s grace in Greek. It’s pronounced charis.”
“Because you’ve been saved by grace.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re a new man.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe that God has forgiven your past and you’re new in Him. That your past in no way stands between you and God anymore.”
What was she getting at? “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed on him as her arms crossed. “Then why does it have to stand between us? You preach grace. Why can you not accept it for yourself?”
Ahh. That.
Nate claimed the shirt and slipped it over his head. “You can’t tell me that after hearing all that, I’m still the prince you were dreaming of since you were a little girl.”
“I don’t want a prince. I want you.” She inched closer and ran her finger along the points of the tribal tattoo that peeked out of his collar.
Nate closed his eyes, willing himself not to feel—not to react. Was she trying to kill him?
“Your past is not who you are—it’s who you were. And these tattoos are not who you are. They’re just the surface. Who you are is in here.” She placed her hand over his heart. “And I like that man.”
“So the tattoos don’t bother you?”
“Bother me?” She tilted her head back with a laugh. “My point was that I like you for who you are as a person. But trust me when I say that I have a lot of appreciation for the surface as well.” She ran her fingers over his shirt that now hid each of the tattoos. “I like you . . . all of you.”
Nate leaned closer with every touch, his pulse drumming through his ears. “Olivia . . .”
“Stop pushing me away.” Her whispered words brushed across his lips as her hands skimmed slowly along his arms up to his shoulders and then back down to his fingers. On their second trip, she tugged at his elbows until his hands reached her waist. “I want you, Nathan. Your past, your future, all of you.”
They were so close in height that her wide blue eyes were just inches away. Her lips brushed across his in a featherlight touch, then along his jaw.
Every desire Nate had been pushing down over the past year and a half rose to the surface. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her close against him, bringing her lips back to his. Her mouth was cool and soft as he’d always im
agined it might be. And when she released the tiniest of moans as her lips moved against his, it was as if every cell and every nerve of his being reached out for her, wanting more—needing more.
He’d had his share of kisses in his life, but they had been purely physical. Escapes. This? It was as if Olivia had reached into his very soul—into his darkest parts—and accepted him, wanted him. This wasn’t an escape. He’d never felt more present. Every inch of him wanted every inch of her closer.
If only . . .
Nate stilled at the reality of what he wanted to do right now—where he wanted to take the kiss.
He pulled back. Olivia’s lips were red and puffy, but her eyes were bright. They held a touch of laughter as if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster and wanted to go again. Every inch of him ached to pull her close once more, and maybe that would be the right choice. Just maybe, Olivia was right and he had been a fool to push her away before.
Then again, maybe that was his hormones speaking, and with the taste of her still on his lips, he might not be able to judge between the two. He needed to clear his head. He couldn’t afford to make the wrong choice again.
Nate dropped his hands and stepped back. “You stay by the fire. I’ll row the boat back, then bring the motorcycle here to pick you up and take you home.”
“Nate?” A quiver in her voice laced the word.
He didn’t turn back. She was asking a question he couldn’t answer right now.
twelve
There were some quirky things about this town, but that hippo had to be number one. Austin stood in the southwest corner of the square and eyed the flags he’d laid out. The auger was set to arrive Monday to drill the anchor posts for the playground, and the brass beast couldn’t be more in the way.
Austin peered through the optical level and checked the readings against what was written on his clipboard. He’d written it down wrong. What was his problem today? He erased the wrong number on the clipboard as his gaze flicked to the library. Stop it. She wasn’t going to just appear and be looking for him. Besides, he had a job to do. He stared at his clipboard. Where was he again?