She face palmed her forehead. “What are you doing here?”
He held out a bouquet of flowers. Wildflowers, her favorite, and an array of shapes and colors. “I’m here to apologize.”
When she stood there stoicly, crossing her arms over her chest, he added, “And paint.”
“It’s four fifty in the morning.” A spray of three Gerbera daisies fought for her attention in the center of the bouquet, but she resisted and held eye contact—bleary as he might seem—with Will.
He shrugged. “I told you I’d be here at five o’ clock.”
She shook her head, noticed the tangles at the ends of her hair, and refused to smooth it. “I thought you were joking.”
His eyes darkened. “I never joke about work.”
In a taunt, he held the flowers out to her and shook them back and forth, his brows tilting upward at the inner edges. “I think they’re thirsty.”
She reached out. “Give me those. You’ll shake every petal off them if you’re not careful.” Of course, she’d grabbed them with an equal amount of force.
Will bit back a smile. She spun from the door and headed to the kitchen. “Not a morning person?” He called to her.
She stopped and angled her gaze to him, eyes narrow. “I thought you were here to apologize.”
“I thought I did.”
She cradled the bundle to her. Gerbera daisies really were the most beautiful flowers on the planet. “No. You said you were here to apologize. You never said you were sorry, what you were sorry for, or how you came to realize you should apologize.”
“Not gonna let me off the hook, are you?”
“Not on your life. If you wanted mercy, you should have brought dark chocolate with these.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind for our next spat.” Will sank onto a wooden rocking chair in her living room.
She tilted her head around the corner and stared at him. “Our next spat?”
“Well, Pops called it a tiff. But my mom always referred to their fights as spats. I don’t actually know what either word means.” The chair squeaked as he rocked back and forth. “This is a great chair.”
But Adrienne was lost in the fact that Will Bryant was comparing their heated conversation—if she could even call it that—to one of his parents’ spats. That fell well inside couples territory, and she hadn’t asked for a deed. Which made him a squatter. Oh dear, she really needed coffee.
She put the flowers in a fine crystal vase and ground fresh coffee beans, aware of him rocking away in the other room. Aware that he felt so comfortable in her house that he’d slid right in and claimed a spot. Speaking of spots, her side hurt.
“Are you all right?”
She jumped when she heard his voice from the door. He stepped into her kitchen as she turned to face him.
He pointed to her hand, still rubbing her hip.
“I had a bad dream.”
“Must have been something to cause pain you still feel.”
“I fell out of bed when I heard . . . I guess I heard you banging on the door. But . . . ” Adrienne kneaded her bottom lip. “I think you were in my dream, tearing down the fence.” She stared over at him, and he remained quiet, letting her sort the scattered pieces. “You were the one. The horse couldn’t do it. Couldn’t jump it. And with the snow and ice we were going to be trapped there.”
His brows rose.
“Frozen,” she whispered. “Like Sleeping Beauty.”
Will nodded, but she could see the doubt.
“Do you think dreams have meaning?”
“No.” The one word from his lips was so final, so solid, Adrienne blinked.
“Never?”
Will ran a hand through his hair. “I sure hope not.”
“Why?”
He waited several seconds before answering. “I have a recurring dream about Pops.”
Adrienne dropped her weight against the counter. “What happens?”
“He dies.” His voice broke a little as he said it. As did Adrienne’s heart.
“He, uh, takes the boat out late at night. I try to stop him, but he won’t listen. The boat runs aground. I’m not there, but I can see it in the dream like I’m watching through a window. He drowns.”
All the air left Adrienne’s lungs. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
He tried to smile. “What about your dream with the horse and fence and me?”
“No. It doesn’t mean anything either. There’s no fence for you to tear down.” Now she wished she hadn’t even brought it up.
“Hey, I’m only getting paid for painting, not fence removal.”
She smiled and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. “You’re not getting paid at all.”
Suddenly he was right behind her. “Oh, yes I am.” It was a growl wrapped in a promise.
And it curled her flesh from her ears to her toes. She grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and turned to face him. “About that apology . . . ”
He raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. But before he could say more, Adrienne spoke, “You’re forgiven.”
He used the back of his hand to push the knife aside and came so close only a whisper separated them. “Thank you.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
Adrienne caught her appearance in the small round mirror on the far wall. “I . . . I need to go change.” He was all fresh and showered and smelling like soap and leather, and she smelled like sweaty nightmare girl.
She hurried out of the kitchen. “Help yourself to coffee. Be back in a few.”
They spent the day painting, chatting, and making two trips to the lumberyard in Pops’s truck. Adrienne worked on windows and doors while Will mastered the soffits around the roofline. In true Florida weather fashion, cloud cover rolled in at noon, shaming the weathermen and giving Will and Adrienne ample time to complete the task.
He’d brought clothes to change into, so she offered him the master bath to shower and get ready for a fun evening of pizza and visiting with Pops and Sara. The house looked great. Adrienne noticed the light, almost airiness of the space around her heart. She placed a hand there, first concerned because it felt so foreign, so alien. But this wasn’t a bad thing. This was . . . joy. Even the renovation hadn’t brought her that, but somewhere around the time she started setting the table and thinking about hearing the details of Pops’s and Sara’s day, this odd sensation arrived. And she didn’t want it to leave. Ever. Adrienne rubbed her hand back and forth over her heart, hoping this wasn’t some kind of sick joke, hoping there wasn’t an insurmountable fence just ahead.
Sara and Pops stayed inseparable for the next few weekends. The older couple’s activities usually included Will and Adrienne, though occasionally Adrienne would decline, saying she couldn’t leave the house project at hand. The problem was, when she did that, Will missed her. Badly. Even though they were meeting regularly throughout the week to plan the birthday party for Pops, he missed seeing her on the weekends.
The party was only five weeks away now. But it was growing more and more difficult to keep everything hidden from Pops. “Maybe we should have the party at my house.” Standing up from her back deck, Adrienne swept her arm across her forehead. The hot Florida sun was unmerciful as they worked together to build a stand for the kayak.
“It would keep us from having to move this thing.” She kicked the leg of the stand that would hold the Polynesian food.
Will stood, using Adrienne as an anchor to pull his weight up from the seated position he’d been in. He turned her to him while she attempted to keep the hair off her face. Tiny droplets of sweat glistened across her brow. She was beautiful in her cutoff jeans, paint-splattered T-shirt, and work boots. A utility belt hung low on her hips, drawing attention to the hourglass curves below her waist. “It would be easier—everything is already here.”
She nodded. “I think it would be perfect. We can set things up on the bac
k deck but maybe trail lights out onto the beach. We can put some extra beach chairs around.” She threw out an exasperated breath when the wind tossed her hair back into her face.
Will reached up and smoothed the strays. He licked his lips and leaned in for a kiss.
“Will, come on.” She deflected him. “I’m gross.”
One brow arched as he looked her up and down. “Though many words might describe you, gross is not one of them. Let’s go for a swim.” He motioned to the beach and clamped a hand in her nail gun pouch.
She shook her head. “We have too much work to do.”
He slipped the buckle open and dropped her utility belt on the deck behind him. “I know. But you need to try out the mask and snorkel I bought you.” He’d purchased it last week at the dive shop.
Her face lit up. “You did?”
Ahhh. There it was—all those specks in her eyes sparkling with fresh excitement. This time he captured her mouth in a kiss. “That’s not all. I got you a brochure about learning how to scuba dive.” His hands landed on those fine hips where the tool belt had been.
“What?” She blinked up at him, the mix of excitement and surprise an intoxicating brew.
“At the dive shop, Ky, the owner, asked if I’d be interested in volunteering to help instruct at Kalanu Camp.” He couldn’t resist the urge to pull her body a little closer as he spoke. She came willingly.
“I’ve heard of that. It’s a camp for troubled kids, right?”
“Yep. The course is run through the college, and lots of students who are certified divers volunteer, but when he asked, I just jumped right in.”
One eye closed partially. “How spontaneous of you.”
The growl again, and he tipped closer to her. “Yes, it was. And now you owe me.”
She flattened her hands against his chest. “What?”
He leaned until his forehead rested against hers. “All this spontaneity . . . I blame you.”
Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and ran over her lips. “It looks good on you. You should do it more often.” Her voice had dipped dangerously low.
“Okay.” With a smooth motion, he swept her into his arms and headed toward the ocean while she laughed, kicked, and pleaded.
“Will! Put me down! We don’t have time for this.” With half-hearted effort, she beat her fists against his chest, but gave up when he took the first steps into the water. “At least let me go get a swimsuit on.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll get mine from the car.”
She stared up at the hot sun. “Just a quick swim, all right?”
She was back on the beach before he was, and glanced down at her suit, making sure everything was covered. Adrienne waded out into the water and dove under, hair trailing behind her. Saltwater felt different from freshwater. It felt different from a swimming pool. It had more substance, and the buoyancy it gave her created the sensation of flying. Before moving here, it had been years since she’d been in the ocean, and she wasn’t really sure how well she’d like it. But after diving in the very first time, she was reacquainted with an old friend. She swam around, letting tiny tropical fish gather around her legs. She watched them dart about in the clear blue-green water, silvery casings catching the sun. With childlike whimsy, she tried to catch one, and another. It was a futile attempt. They would zip away from her, then return after only moments as if mocking her inability to snag even the tiniest of fish.
She stood in water up to her chest, when a wave washed over her. The water rose to her throat. Her shoulders stayed exposed, the sun warming them and drying the little droplets across her shoulders.
“You know how to work one of these?”
The voice came from behind her. She spun and Will moved out to her in the surf. Two scuba masks with snorkels attached were slung over his right forearm.
“How hard can it be?” she asked, trying not to notice how the water rippled up on his exposed body. She watched the lean muscles and enjoyed the sensation it caused within her. A wave rushed up on him, leaving tiny rivulets to trail down over a tanned chest and lines of clear-cut stomach muscles.
He handed her a mask, and she tried to put it on without jabbing herself in the eyes with the dangling snorkel.
“Ouch.” She winced as the rubber mask strap tangled into her hair.
He reached up and released her from the trap.
She relented. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little harder than it looks.”
“Here,” he said softly, moving just close enough to help balance her in the surf. His face was near hers, his breath fanning against her throat and chest. She was thankful for the waves that washed away the sensation, but right on its heels was another puff of air. “Let’s make sure this fits you.” He folded the strap backward and placed the mask to her face. “Can you hold it on with no strap?”
She shrugged.
“Breathe in through your nose just a little. If the mask fits right, it will make just enough suction to hold it in place.”
She followed his instructions, and surprisingly the mask stayed put when he removed his hand.
“Now, do what I do.” He demonstrated the proper way to put the mask on without ripping out half a head of hair. He positioned the snorkel in his mouth. “Got it?”
She nodded, snorkel end bobbing above her.
“When a wave comes over us,” he said, removing his mouthpiece, “the water from it is going to rush into the end of the snorkel.” He laughed when her eyes widened in fear. “Don’t worry.”
But the panic caused her to spit out the mouthpiece and even stand a little higher.
“Seriously. It’s nothing to worry about.”
She cocked a brow in answer.
“I get it. This is a beginner class. Okay, close your eyes.” He moved closer to her, his arms gently circling her midsection.
She instinctively tensed.
“Relax,” he whispered against her. “I’m trying to show you something.”
I just bet. Against her better judgment, she allowed the tension to drain from her muscles as they swayed, the water moving their bodies together. The ocean had its own rhythm, and as her breathing slowed, she became a part of that rhythm. She was aware when a wave was coming, and she realized her body reacted as if she and the water were one. Wow. She finally had her sea legs. They’d evaded her on the boat.
His words were a whisper, barely audible over the rush of air and water moving around them. “See, you’ll know when a wave is coming.” His hands and arms were warm where they touched her skin. “Breathe in before the wave reaches you. If water gets into your snorkel, you just breathe out quickly and it will shoot the water back out.”
With her eyes still closed, she nodded. She could feel his hands tightening, drawing her straight down, deeper into the water. Once her mask was under, she opened her eyes, scarcely believing this was the same world she’d watched from the surface. A rush of cool water enveloped her head, introducing her to the silence and beauty of the world beneath.
They swam around for a time, Will pointing out one type of fish, then another. A few times, the water washed up over the snorkel, but like a pro she followed his instructions and shot it right back out.
She studied a small fish circling around her knees. Will gestured to her and opened his fingers to reveal a clam shell. He motioned for her to come up out of the water. With the snorkel finally out of her mouth, Adrienne popped up above the surface, a string of exclamations tumbling from her salty lips. “Did you see that fish? It was as big as my hand.” She continued on, describing the surroundings beneath them as if he hadn’t been there.
He laughed. “I know.” He held the clam shell out to her.
She took it, examined it, tried to separate the two pieces. “It’s connected.”
“Yeah.” He slid it from her hand. “Come on, I want to show you something cool.”
Still a little breathless, she slipped the mask back on and followed him under the water.
With
one hand, he pried open the shell. As if on cue, a cloud of fish instantly swarmed around the small shell, extracting its contents. Her gaze shot to Will in amazement. After the feeding frenzy, many of the fish remained and seemed as curious about her as she was about them. They swam toward the mask, looked into her eyes, then swam away. She’d never seen such a concentration of brightly colored slippery bodies. Slowly, Will held out another shell.
With his free hand he reached for hers, then dropped the shell into her palm. He kept a firm grasp on her wrist so she wouldn’t drop the meal as feathery fish tickled across her skin. They bumped or nudged her hand. She tried to withdraw, but he held her steadfast. Soon, she had grown accustomed to the feel of live fish bumping and jostling about as they aggressively devoured the contents of the mollusk.
An hour later, she and Will sat on her back steps, wrapped in big beach towels. The sun was getting ready to set on the horizon, and its movement sparked a shower of vibrant colors. The powdery blue sky turned to deep purple, dark pink, and finally orangey-yellow, a heavenly fireworks display for their benefit.
Will stood and lit the torches on her deck. He sat back down beside her. “Are you cold?” he whispered against her ear.
She snuggled toward him. “No, I’m very warm.”
“Listen, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”
She looked over, giving him her full attention. “What do you mean?” The setting sun was beautiful, but so was Will.
He shrugged. “I can’t explain it, but you’ve made my relationship with Pops even better.” His face left hers, and he focused on the water. “Also, you forced me to take a hard look at myself, and I didn’t really like what I saw.”
She watched him. Will Bryant was growing and changing right before her eyes. “Will, can we talk about your parents?”
Slam, slam, slam, slam. Four walls came up. But she’d spent enough time resisting the urge to dive into this conversation. Those walls wouldn’t deter her.
“Look, I know you struggle with their decision to stay in Africa. I just want to understand.”
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