The First Love Cookie Club

by Lori Wilde

  On the upside, the boat was sinking slowly. On the downside, slow wasn’t a particularly positive thing in reference to the end of your life.

  Closer and closer the water crept. Lower and lower the sun dipped. Colder and colder, Sarah shivered.

  Desperately, she scanned the lake, but all she saw was dark blue water. No shoreline, no boats in sight. Not even a buoy to swim toward. Before long, the water was over the entire front of thepedal boat. It was sinking faster now. At this rate, she’d sink along with the sun. She had nowhere else to go but the back of the seat. Carefully, she eased herself upward until her butt was resting on the back of the seat, her legs in the seat.

  Eventually, the water claimed the seat and swirled around her ankles. She drew her legs up beside her, perching like a bird, shoulders drawn in, arms wrapped around herself, all out of options. In a matter of minutes, she’d be in the water. Sarah, who barely knew how to dog paddle, was going to drown. She imagined the headlines: Antisocial Children’s Author Drowns on Lake Twilight.

  This was it. It was all over. This was how she was going to die.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sunset, like most things on the winter lake, settled in a slow, easy slide. The sharp yellow edges of sunlight slipped into a dreamy haze of purple-tinged blue, the same spectacular color as Sarah’s eyes, which deepened in indolent stages, progressively blurring the edges between the shoreline and the water, muting the details of bare tree limbs reaching skyward, smudging the outlines of ropes mooring boats to the dock. That evening, a fine mist and strong blowing wind hastened the drawing close of dusk’s curtain, casting the lake in a fog of gray wool and the marina in a milky rinse of rusty orange. The upshot was a sudden rush of silence, comforting as a hand-knitted sweater, tasty as a freshly baked cookie, reliable as a grandmother’s hug.

  Travis breathed in the moment. Being the father of a chronically ill child had taught him how to live in the now. How to fill his lungs with the split-second instant, hold it tight in a long caress, and savor the uniqueness. He loved winter in generaland the holiday season in particular. But this year was extra special. This year, for the first time in four long years, Jazzy was no longer a slave to her asthma. It was a Christmas miracle indeed, one he would never forget.

  Unexpectedly, he found himself wishing Sarah was here with him. He tried to squelch the feeling as soon as it arose. There was no point wishing for what he knew he couldn’t have, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Travis wished he could enjoy her like the sunset, take pleasure in her company while she was here. But he had Jazzy to think about. He couldn’t do that. Nor could he in good conscience start something with Sarah he knew they couldn’t finish. She deserved more than just a momentary fling, and honestly so did he. He’d done the casual sex thing before. He knew that while it might feel good at the time, in the long run it could leave you feeling empty inside. No, he was ready for something more substantial in his life and maybe, now that Jazzy was doing so much better, the time was finally right. But Sarah was leaving town on Sunday. There was no time to explore this thing, see if it could grow into something more.

  Honestly, he didn’t quite know what to make of his strong sexual attraction for her. Especially given the history between them. She’d been infatuated with him once and he’d been too old for her. Now he felt like he was infatuated with her and she was too big-city cool for this simple country boy.

  He took in another deep breath, filling his airways with the scent memory of her—along with the smell of the lake—murky sweetness combinedwith womanly allure. Thinking about her sent a hot tingle of electricity running like a string from his head to his feet. Then he reminded himself what was at stake. He couldn’t let his desire get the better of his common sense. He’d been there before. Rash lust could cause a lot of problems.

  The wind kicked up, skimming fiercely across the water and sending a fresh battalion of white-capped waves licking against the shoreline. There’d been a wind advisory issued for the local lakes and waterways so Travis didn’t expect to see any other boats on the lake as he maneuvered his game warden’s boat through the choppy waves, heading toward home. Since he lived on the lake, he took the boat home with him, docking it at the pier at the end of his private wharf.

  Part of his job entailed going out in bad weather, looking for folks who hadn’t been prudent enough to check the weather conditions before venturing out onto the water. Most of the fishermen in the area knew better, but there was always a tourist or two in the mix and there was no telling what they’d do.

  Today, he’d been out here for several hours and hadn’t seen a soul.

  He thought of Sarah again, remembering the times he’d taken her fishing when she was just a kid. He’d done it as a favor for his next-door neighbor Mia Martin, who’d mothered him after his own mother died, but also because he’d liked Sarah.

  She’d been a quiet kid, but curious. When she asked questions, they’d been intelligent and well-thought-out. Like why did fish bite more readily in cooler weather than in the heat of the summer? Or why was it that crappie preferred bushy, deep water, while catfish skimmed along murky slough bottoms? If she’d kept coming to the lake, he could have made a real angler out of her. She’d loved fishing almost as much as he did.

  The cold wind gusted, ruffling his hair, nipping at his ears. He did up the top button on his coat and increased the boat’s speed. He was looking forward to getting home and diving into the big bowl of stew he’d started in the crockpot before he left for work that morning. He loved the way the house smelled of simmering chuck roast and earthy root vegetables. He’d pick Jazzy up from the sitter who kept her after school until he got home from work.

  No wait, Jazzy was spending the night with her best friend, Andi. Although he was a little uneasy about the whole thing. She’d never spent the night away from home except with his Aunt Raylene. He didn’t want her far from him in case she got sick, but since she hadn’t had an asthma attack in almost two months, he’d agreed to let her sleep over at Andi’s when she’d begged. It was hard to let her go, but he knew she needed to expand her horizons. Already, she seemed much younger than her age.

  The sun was almost gone by the time he entered the main part of the lake. He was only a few minutes from home now and his focus was on the familiar landmarks guiding him in—the old dead tree that poked from the water, the grinding sound of machinery at the rock quarry a mile north of the lake, the cluster of bats that flew from the underground caves every evening about this time. Hisstomach grumbled, anticipating that stew. He was so wrapped up in the simple ordinary splendor of the end of his day that he almost did not take one last look around the lake.

  But a spidery prickling at his neck drew his attention to the right when he was headed left.

  At first he saw nothing but the mix of sky and water merging into one wash of deep majestic blue, but then he heard a soft, reedy sound and the hairs on his arms stood up. It was a human voice, crying out for help in the darkness.

  He slowed the boat, cocked his head, and listened as he scanned the water. There, several hundred yards away, he spied her. A woman crouched atop what appeared to be a sinking pedal boat. The listing craft was almost completely submerged. In a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, the woman would be in the water.

  Alarm had him yanking his boat around. He barreled straight for her. She should be okay, even if she ended up getting wet, since he’d seen her. But he hated to think what would have happened if something hadn’t told him to take one last look around.

  The woman spotted him and began waving her arms.

  When he got closer, he recognized the sinking pedal boat as belonging to the Merry Cherub, and when he saw the woman had long caramel-colored hair pulled back in a single braid, his mouth went dry.

  Sarah?

  Could it be? What in the world was she doing out on the water in a pedal boat at dusk in the middle of December?

  He felt at once both angry and
concerned. Hadn’t she listened for wind advisories before taking the boat out? Why hadn’t Jenny warned her against it? Sarah was from Manhattan. Yes, she spent a few summers here as a kid, but she was ill-equipped to take a pedal boat out on the lake alone in high winds and she should have known better.

  When he was within a few feet of her, he killed the engine so the wake from his boat wouldn’t be the thing that sent her into the drink and he went for the life preserver. She was now standing on the back of the seat of the pedal boat, the water lapping at her boots, her balance impeccable. He decided against the life preserver, hoping that he could do this without her ending up in the water, and instead picked up an oar from the bottom of the boat.

  “Steady, steady,” he called. “I’m going to row over and if we gauge this correctly you can just step right into my boat.”

  Calmly, she nodded.

  How in the hell did she stay so calm when he was an experienced boater and his pulse was thundering through his veins? Maybe she didn’t fully understand the danger she’d put herself in. He wanted to yell at her, What in the hell were you thinking? But the minute he saw the quiet fear in her eyes, he knew she’d been through enough and she didn’t need him jumping down her throat. Thank God she was okay. His gut squeezed when he thought of the alternatives.

  Once he was near enough, he tossed the oar back into the boat and held out a hand to her.

  She started to inch toward him, but the woundedpedal boat sank deeper. Startled, her eyes widened and she raised her arms to leverage her balance. The water swirled at her calves.

  “Easy now.”

  She paused, took a deep breath, tried for another step. The pedal boat made a gurgling groan. It was finished, no buoyancy left in it. Time to make a move or she was going in all the way.

  “Jump!” Travis commanded. She hesitated for a split second. He met her eyes, cemented her to him with one long, hard look. Come on, sweetheart, you can do this. “Jump!”

  Clutching hard to his gaze with her own, Sarah jumped.

  He caught her in mid-air, dragging her into his boat, while the lake swallowed her boat in a watery embrace.

  The force of her momentum knocked him off balance and they ended up on the bottom of the boat. The wet oar was pressed into his back and Sarah Collier, the awkward girl next door who used to have a crush on him, turned famous children’s novelist, was lying on top of him. They were both breathing hard—from fear, from exertion, from raw animal attraction they’d been dancing around for a week—and in perfect tandem rhythm, as if inhaling the same single breath of air.

  They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

  His heart thundered. His mind spun. Every place her body touched his, he felt completely and utterly alive. This was the closest he’d come to sex in so long he’d lost count.

  And that’s when Travis Walker knew he was in serious trouble.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart, you’re safe,” Travis murmured.

  Sweetheart. He’d called her sweetheart. That much got through her numb terror.

  “Travis,” she whispered, still unable to believe it was he, that he’d pulled her foolish hide from the water’s cold embrace just in the nick of time. Okay, so the utilitarian brown boat with the hopped-up motor wasn’t exactly a valiant steed, but at this moment, he sure looked like a knight in shining armor to her. And that made her babble idiotically, “You came for me.”

  He laughed, not making fun of her, but low and comforting. “I imagine it feels that way right now, but honestly, I was just on my way home. If I hadn’t turned my head when I did, I probably wouldn’t have seen you.”

  “If you hadn’t seen me …” She left the rest unspoken.

  “But I did and everything is okay now. You’re one tough cookie, Sadie Cool.”

  “I don’t feel the least bit tough. In fact, I feel very, very stupid.”

  “Most people would have completely lost it by now,” he said. “Instead here you are worrying about looking stupid.”

  “I have lost it,” she said around her chattering teeth. “This is me losing it.”

  “Kudos, then, on the dignified hysteria.”

  He was trying to reassure her. Travis’s MO hadn’t changed over the years. He grinned and teased to put people at ease. His arm was around her, his hand holding her steady as he reached fora woolen blanket that lay folded on the seat beside him. He tucked the blanket around her, the backs of his knuckles accidentally grazing her breasts.

  She heard his quick intake of breath. Her nipples, already painfully hard as pebbles from the cold, constricted even tighter at his touch. Sarah huddled on the edge of the seat, shivering underneath the blanket he’d thrown over her shoulders. It smelled like horses. She felt embarrassed and completely stupid. She’d almost gotten herself killed simply because she hadn’t possessed the social skills to mix it up with the ladies of the cookie club.

  “Let’s get you back to shore. Hang on, I’m opening the throttle.” He pushed on the gas and the boat surged, skimming over the water, rushing cold air over her even colder body.

  She hunched deeper into the blanket and tucked her head down. Her teeth clattered like castanets.

  He stood at the wheel, the wind whipping around him, his hair blowing back. He wore a brown uniform topped with an all-weather coat that was a slightly darker shade of brown. What a virile man.

  Her emotions were a wild tumble—fear, regret, gratitude, foolishness, joy at being alive. She could have died on that lake. But one strong, throbbing emotion beat out the rest.

  Raw desire unlike anything she’d ever experienced clawed at her. Need stoked by danger, near death, and sudden rescue demanded attention. She looked at Travis and saw the same need reflected in his eyes. She couldn’t deal with the tumult of it and ducked her head, pretending to shield herself from the wind.

  Swiftly, he docked the boat at the back of his house, tied it up, and then helped her to climb gingerly onto the wooden pier. He sheltered her from the wind with his body, drawing her up against him, ushering her up the jetty, onto the deck, then into the house.

  The minute they were through the door, he broke away. “I’ll draw you a hot bath. You need to get out of those wet clothes immediately.”

  He hurried to the bathroom and she heard the water come on. Slowly, she stripped off her wet clothes. The house smelled of stew. She wrapped the blanket around her nakedness and glanced around. Once upon a time her grandmother’s overstuffed fabric couch and love seat sat in this living room. Her lace curtains hung from the windows. And beige Berber carpet covered the floors. Now, the couch was leather and blinds covered the windows and the floors were hardwood. The flower-print wallpaper had been replaced. Now the walls were textured and painted a warm honey color.

  Beside the window stood a Christmas tree decorated with multicolored lights, handmade ornaments, and candy canes, just like the illustration of the Christmas tree in The Magic Christmas Cookie. Jazzy and Travis had decorated their tree in the likeness of her book. It brought a lump to her throat. Was this some kind of sign?

  Don’t read anything into it. They didn’t even know you were Sadie Cool.

  Which made this even more special.

  One thing in the room remained the same—the bookcase sitting in the corner. It had been Gram’s. Her heart gave an odd little thump and Sarahmoved across the room to run her hand over the polished oak.

  Travis cleared his throat.

  She jumped and spun around to see him standing behind her. She reached to pick her wet clothes up off the floor, still clutching the blanket tightly around her.

  “Leave your clothes,” he said. “I’ll put them in the dryer. Get in the bath. Get warmed up. I put my bathrobe on the back of the door for you to wear until your clothes are dried.”

  She obeyed because there was no reason to argue. She was cold and he had saved her from drowning after she’d done a very foolish thing.

  The bathroom must have been Jazzy’s, for it had been red
one in a mermaid theme. The walls were painted Indian summer blue. Fishing net sprayed with sparkle glitter dangled from the ceiling with plastic starfish and turtles and sand dollars caught in it. Sticky appliqués of mermaids cavorted around a mirror shaped like a ship’s portal. The shower curtain was dotted with mermaids as well. The room made her smile.

  Sarah dropped the blanket and caught sight of her disfigured torso in the portal mirror. She started to quickly avert her gaze from her reflection as she usually did when she got in or out of the shower, but this time, she made herself take a good, hard look. How would Travis view her body?

  Tentatively, she ran a hand over her abdomen and fingered the irregular border of the reddish pink burn scar that began just below her rib cage on the right side of her body, swooped down under her navel, and ended at the top of her left hip. Herskin was puckered, stretched, and even after three years, still looked unsettlingly raw. No bikinis for Sarah Collier. Ever.

  No getting around it. Anyone was bound to be thrown by the scar the first time he saw it. Aidan sure had been.

  Sarah moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, remembering the first guy she’d dated after the accident. Aidan Hartley. Tall, thin, dark-haired, intense, and introverted, and just as unemotional as Sarah. He restored rare books and they’d shared an interest in foreign films. She’d thought they were a perfect match even though his kisses left her lukewarm.

  It wasn’t as though she hadn’t warned him about the scar in advance. Aidan had claimed it wouldn’t bother him. But when they’d started making out on their fourth date and he’d slipped his hand under her blouse and felt the scar, he’d abruptly shifted gears, told her it was getting late, he had to get up early, blah, blah, blah. Then he’d hustled out of her apartment and never called her again.

  And Aidan was the second guy to dump her because of the scar.