by Aubrey Gross
“Hey, Gran.” Jo dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. “How was PT today?”
Gran patted her hip before turning down the volume on the evening news. “Only needed two regular ibuprofen today.”
Jo smiled. “That’s great!”
Gran nodded, a satisfactory smile on her face. “That woman says I’m ‘exceeding expectations.’ Pfft. Of course I am.”
“She obviously doesn’t know you, Gran.” No one could ever accuse her grandmother of being a quitter that was for sure.
“How was lunch with Jenn?”
“Good. I swear that’s the slowest Chili’s ever, though.”
Gran clucked her tongue. “If I’d known you were going there, I would have warned you.”
Jo chuckled. “It’s okay, Gran. It gave us time to gossip and make some tentative plans.”
“Jolene, you know you don’t have to hover over me night and day. If you want to go have fun with your friends, go have fun.”
Jo resisted the urge to fidget; how she could be a thirty-two-year-old woman and still feel like a teenager asking for permission was beyond her. “Well, Jenn did mention going up to the lake on Saturday for a few hours.”
Gran waved the remote dismissively. “Go. Have fun. Lord knows you haven’t had enough of that in your life.”
Jo swallowed past the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. “I love you, Gran.”
“I love you too, Jolene. Now what’s for supper?”
~~*~~
“You didn’t tell me Chase would be here,” Jo grumbled into Jenn’s ear.
Jenn shrugged as she pushed her ball cap down over the braid that was somewhat taming her wild auburn curls. “I knew if I did, you wouldn’t come.”
“You don’t know that for sure. I might have anyway.”
Jenn’s response was lost in the wind as Chase’s big, speedy boat flew over Lake Amistad. Under them, the water was as blue as she remembered. All around them the shoreline rose in white, craggy limestone formations that still took her breath away.
As a kid, the lake had been one of her favorite places. After she’d pulled herself away from Chase, she hadn’t visited as much for fear of being around him and causing embarrassment.
And now here she was, sitting next to her best friend in the back of her former best friend’s boat, speeding across the water to God knows where.
Nerves jangled in her gut.
Chase and his friend Owen were at the steering wheel, laughing and talking about something. While Owen had stripped down to nothing more than a pair of flip flops and board shorts, baring an impressive tattooed and freckled chest that complemented his red hair, Chase wore a faded—and very fitted—Longhorns baseball t-shirt and gray swimming trunks.
Was he still self-conscious about the scars? Curiosity burned in her gut, but she didn’t know how to ask Jenn.
Chase’s childhood illness, the surgeries and the subsequent scars were a topic that the three of them had rarely broached as they grew older. As children, Jo and Jenn had laughed and teased and joked with Chase in an effort to make him feel better. While he’d never told them as much, as they’d gotten older Jo had realized that the scars made him a bit self-conscious; he never took his shirt off at pool parties or during the numerous pick-up ball games of all sorts that would pop up among the neighborhood kids. As teens, when the other boys would proudly take off their shirts to show off for the girls, Chase kept his on, deflecting the gazes and questions with a joke and a smile.
She’d seen the scars once, after his very last surgery at the end of their eighth grade year. He had two long scars, slicing from hip to hip just below his belly button, each about an inch apart from the other. One was newer, still pink and tender-looking. There were smaller ones on his back, thin and faded from where the doctors had done all kinds of biopsies.
He’d been in his backyard, standing at the edge of the swimming pool with water dripping off his hair and his swimming trunks, and she’d come over because she needed to escape the madness that was her own house. Her dad’s nose had once again been stuck in some dusty tome of research, and her mom had gone off with her hair teased and smelling of Opium perfume. She’d needed a sense of normalcy, so she’d gone to Chase’s, where everything always seemed normal and perfect and right.
He hadn’t seen her at first, as she’d come around the side and through the gate and his back was slightly to her, his attention drawn to something else. Despite the fact that they’d been friends since childhood, Jo had started noticing the changes in Chase—and all the boys in their class—in the sixth grade. As a fourteen-year-old almost ninth grader, her curiosity had grown, and she’d really started noticing the changes in Chase. Playing baseball and football almost year-round had caused him to develop muscles. His voice had deepened. Her best friend was suddenly a boy. A really cute boy.
A really cute boy who was causing her to feel really confusing things that she had no clue how to handle or interpret.
And standing there, staring at him that day and seeing the scars that marked his struggle and will to survive, Jolene Sommers had tumbled head first into puppy love with Chase Roberts.
He never knew—she was too shy and too embarrassed and too confused to even give him a glimpse of what she was feeling. So she’d plastered a smile on her face and continued towards him, the lump in her throat making speech impossible. She finally stopped a couple feet away from him and somehow managed to say—in a pretty normal tone of voice—“Hey, Chase.”
He’d startled, whipped around towards her. She’d noticed the panic in his eyes, and intuitively knew that if she looked down it would only make him feel even more panicked. So instead, she’d kept her eyes on his face—despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to see what his chest and stomach looked like without a shirt on—and smiled again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I snuck in through the gate when your mom told me you were back here.”
Chase had swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost frantically before he reached for the t-shirt lying in the chair next to him. He’d rapidly pulled it over his head, and Jo had taken the small window of opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. Chase without a shirt on made her breath hitch and butterflies dance in her stomach. He was more muscular than a lot of the boys in their class, and she could see a small trail of hair poking up above the top edge of his shorts, just below those hip to hip scars. She’d been through sex ed, she knew where it led. And suddenly she was really, really curious about Chase in a way she’d never been curious before.
Too soon, the shirt was on and covering his torso. Jo had to suppress her sigh of disappointment. When Chase nervously cleared his throat, she realized she was still staring at the place where shorts met skin, just below his belly button. Embarrassed, she’d whipped her gaze back up to his face. And seen embarrassment there, too.
Awkward silence had stretched between them for long moments until Chase had said, “They’re pretty bad, huh?”
Confused, Jo had asked, “Bad? What’s pretty bad?” She hadn’t seen anything that looked bad at all. No, it all looked way too good to her fourteen-year-old, raging hormone mind.
Chase’s neck and face had flushed pink for brief seconds. “The scars, Jo. They’re pretty bad. Sorry you had to see them.”
Jo shook her head. “No, they’re not bad.” She swallowed. “I, uh, barely noticed them.”
Chase had snorted. “Yeah, right. They’re pretty hard to miss.”
“I wasn’t looking at the scars, Chase. I was looking at you.”
The statement had been impulsive and real and honest. She’d never been more embarrassed in her life. Awkward silence that had never been between them before was there at that moment, and neither of them had known what to do about it. As they’d stood there, staring at each other, she’d noticed how Chase’s breath had kind of hitched, and his eyes had gotten a little darker br
own. Nerves and butterflies had tingled in her belly, and despite the fact that she’d never been kissed before she just knew that Chase was about to do just that.
Until Matt had stepped outside and opened his big mouth.
It wasn’t long after that moment that Jo caught her mom hitting on Chase’s dad, and Jo had done the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life—she’d let her best friend and first love go.
Jenn’s elbow in her rib cage shook Jo out of her reverie. She felt like she was coming out of a fog as her eyes focused and brought Chase and Owen into sharp relief at the front of the boat. Shaking the memories away, Jo opened her bottle of water and took a long, long pull.
“Earth to Jo. Where’d you go just then?”
She tried to tear her gaze off of Chase—she really did—but for some reason her eyes didn’t seem to want to cooperate with her brain. Jo sighed. “Just a quick little jaunt down memory lane, that’s all.”
“I think that was more like a marathon than a jaunt. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes.”
Jo finally managed to look away from Chase and the muscles that bunched under his t-shirt and his quick smile and the sunglasses that hid those melted chocolate eyes, and at Jenn instead. “Sorry. Being back here, and especially with you guys, it’s just stirring up memories. That’s all.”
Chase laughed at something Owen said, and the sound carried on the breeze back to where Jo and Jenn were sitting. Jo’s gaze once again made its way to Chase. And just like that day when she was fourteen years old, Jo felt like she was on very, very dangerous ground.
~~*~~
Chase could feel Jo’s gaze on him—he’d always been able to—and it took every bit of willpower he possessed to not look back at her. When she’d shown up with Jenn today, he’d been surprised. He should have realized, though, that Jenn would bring her along; he, Jenn and Owen had a tradition of going out to the lake on the third weekend of the month, and this was the first of those weekends since Jo had come back to town.
She made him feel nervous and awkward, just like he’d felt as a teen with a mile-long crush. Funny how a pretty girl could tie a man’s tongue in knots, no matter if he was fifteen or thirty-three.
He turned just slightly towards Owen, so that he could see Jo in his periphery. She was wearing one of those short summery dress cover-up things that hid and revealed just enough of a woman’s body to make a man curious. Her hair was caught up in one of those messy ponytail bun things women wore all the time.
It made him want to see her hair messed up for other reasons entirely.
Jenn was talking more than Jo was; he could tell by the way she fidgeted with her bottle of water that she was distracted by something.
Funny how even when you hadn’t seen someone in about ten years—and hadn’t really talked to them in eighteen— you could still read them like a book.
As the boat neared their favorite inlet near the mouth of the Devils River, Chase slowed and then shut off the engine once they were in shallower waters. Quiet settled, waves lapping against the side of the boat, and the drone of far-off boat motors the only sound for a few, blissful seconds.
“Have you ever been to this part of the lake before?” Jenn asked Jo from the back of the boat.
“I don’t think so. Most of my time as a kid was spent at Governor’s Landing.”
“Well, then, you’re in for a treat. As you can see, there aren’t anywhere near as many people out here as there are there,” Jenn said before hopping up, whisking off her ball cap, tank top and shorts and diving into the water.
Chase shook his head and smiled. It was their routine. They would arrive at this little cove, and sit in silence for a few seconds. Jenn would then dive into the water like some kind of fire-haired mermaid, Owen would open a beer and Chase would pull out his fishing rod. Owen would eventually join Jenn in the water, and they would wind up arguing about something while Chase tried to catch supper from the other side of the boat—away from all of the splashing. Sometimes he would take a quick swim, sometimes he wouldn’t. Afterwards they would head back to one of their places—they rotated turns—and fire up the grill, drink a few more beers, maybe a glass or two of wine, and simply enjoy the easy company of friends.
He wasn’t sure how Jo’s presence would change that routine. Behind him, he heard another splash as someone else dove into the water, and then Owen’s low whistle.
“You’re missing the show, my friend.”
Chase shook his head and tossed his line into the water. “What show? I’ve seen those two in bathing suits since we were eight years old.”
It was true, even if he knew that Jo now was nothing like Jo as an eight-year-old.
“I’m not sure if you’re stupid, crazy, or gay and I never knew it.”
Chase raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Owen over his shoulder. “You know that last one isn’t true. The first two are probably debatable.”
Owen laughed before setting his beer aside. “You should join in on the fun over here on this side.”
Chase turned back to his fishing pole. “Gotta catch supper.”
He heard Owen snort. “Because I don’t have plenty of meat in my deep freezer.”
Chase decided to ignore Owen, and tossed the lure again. Considering they owned a managed-game ranch that teemed with wild game, Chase knew just how well-stocked Owen’s freezer was.
“Your choice. I, however, am going to go have fun getting wet with two beautiful ladies.”
Chase heard Owen’s splash seconds later, and then Jenn’s shriek. He smiled. Owen and Jenn teased each other like kids, dunking each other, dragging each other under, giving each other wedgies. He half expected to find out one day that they’d run off to Vegas and eloped—except as far as he knew they weren’t actually attracted to each other.
He pushed the laughter and voices to the back of his mind, found the quiet place in his head and focused on casting, reeling and trying to hook. He felt a slight tug, set the hook, and reeled in his first catch of the day. He caught the largemouth bass in one hand, removed the hook with the other, and tossed it into the live well. He turned back to the water and was just about to cast his line when Jo appeared beside him.
“Nice fish,” she nodded her head towards the live well.
“Thanks.” Chase turned towards her, and froze.
Jo stood in front of him, sunglasses shading those blue green eyes that had always made him feel like he was drowning. She was wearing one of those two piece bathing suits that looked like a one-piece—a tankini, he vaguely remembered Jenn calling it one day. The top was dark blue, tight around her breasts while flowing away from her abdomen. It skimmed her hips, which were clad in red and blue polka dotted bikini bottoms that had these little ties on either side. Those ties made his fingers twitch.
There was nothing immodest or particularly revealing—he’d certainly seen less fabric out here on the lake—and yet his mouth was dry and his body was definitely responding to the beautiful, wet woman in front of him. The only part of his body that seemed capable of movement—his eyes—skimmed over her again, drinking her in like a parched man in the desert.
He didn’t remember her breasts being quite so…big…the last time he’d seen her in a bathing suit. Granted, that had been sometime in early high school at a party they’d both been invited to, but still. His gaze tripped down her body and stuck on her legs before flying back up and noticing her arms and shoulders.
“You lift?”
God, she was going to start thinking he’d taken one too many baseballs to the head if he kept up such scintillating conversation.
His gaze returned to her face, and he noticed that her cheeks had pinkened. She grinned shyly, winked, and then flexed her right arm. “Yup. I even have a baby bicep to prove it.”
Chase laughed and felt a little of the tension drain from his body. “That�
��s a little more than a baby bicep.”
She flexed again before dropping her arm. “A little more. How’d you know I lifted?”
He swallowed. “Your legs. And then your arms and shoulders.” If she hadn’t known he’d been checking her out behind the lenses of his sunglasses, she did now.
Jo took a sip of water before returning his casual perusal, raking her gaze from his head to his toes and back up. “I’m not the only one who lifts.”
“No, you’re not.”
She turned and looked out at the water before turning back to him. “I shouldn’t have come today. I’m obviously making you uncomfortable.”
You have no idea, Jolene Westwood. He sighed. “Not uncomfortable, really. We’re just…” Chase searched for the words that could most accurately describe what she was making him feel, without giving away, well, how he was actually feeling. Like a horny teenager. “We haven’t seen each other in years. We’re different people, but kind of the same.”
They stood there in silence, contemplating each other before Jo turned her head and looked out towards the water again. She wrapped her arms around herself, the motion pushing her breasts up higher. Chase swallowed, tamping down the lust that clawed at his gut.
Funny how while some things had changed, others certainly hadn’t. She still made him feel like a fourteen-year-old boy, all needy and antsy and itchy, like a bottle rocket waiting to shoot off into the sky.
She worried her bottom lip, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. As he watched her—he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her, and wasn’t sure he even wanted to—goose bumps scattered over her baby biceps and her breath hitched ever so slightly.
The sight reminded him of a day long ago, next to a different body of water, when she’d had a similar look on her face. She hadn’t been wearing a swimsuit that day, instead had on cut-off shorts and a cherry red tank top. But she’d looked at him, and since he knew her moods better than anyone had been able to see her nervousness. He’d thought it was because of the scars—she’d never seen them until that day. But when she’d blurted out that she hadn’t been looking at the scars, but at him, his fourteen-year-old brain had dared to hope that maybe the prettiest girl in school and his best friend maybe wanted to be more than friends.