by Tawna Fenske
“Want me to read from where I left off with you or the chapter I was reading last night?”
He swallowed hard, ordering himself to get it together. “What’s the new chapter about?”
“Meditation and self-reflection,” she said. “It’s about getting in touch with your underlying issues.”
The snort slipped out before he felt it forming. “You mean the dumb shit I say when I’m uncomfortable?”
She turned and cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“The stuff about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny?” He shook his head and rubbed a spot of sunscreen at the nape of her neck. “Or the thing I said earlier to you—the bikini comment. That was a dick thing to say, and I’m sorry.”
She turned, slipping her sunglasses up to meet his eyes. “This is good, Tony! It’s exactly the sort of thing the book talks about. Figuring out your ingrained habits so you can do something to change the ones that aren’t working.”
“Huh.” Maybe there was something to that. “I do like to joke around.”
“And I love that about you.” She shrugged. “But there’s a difference between having a great sense of humor and using it as a defense mechanism.”
He grinned. “I did take karate lessons for a year in third grade.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “And there it is again. Cracking the awkward tension with a joke.”
“Guilty as charged.” Man, it sucked to be called out sometimes.
But hey, he could take it. He could fix some of his shit, just like he could be the kind of guy to touch his hot best friend without popping a boner.
He took a deep breath and kept spreading sunscreen on her shoulders, tamping back his body’s response. His body had other ideas. As he stroked the creamy liquid down her spine, another pulse of desire throbbed through him.
“All done.” He handed the tube to her and scooted back on his chair. “You’re good.”
“Thanks. Want me to do you?”
Fuuuuuck.
“Thanks, I’m fine.”
She wiggled the sunscreen tube. “You sure? I know you tend to burn when—”
“I’m fine. I’m good. I swear.”
Kill me now.
She looked at him a moment, then shook her head. “You have issues.”
She went back to applying sunscreen on her front half, leaving Tony to reflect that she had a point. A damn good one. So yeah, maybe he needed to work on some stuff. Maybe it was all about baby steps.
“Actually, yeah,” he said. “Would you mind doing my shoulders?”
She looked up and licked her lips. “Your—shoulders?”
“Yeah. Just right there, where I can’t reach.”
A flash of lust flickered in those blue eyes, catching him by surprise. So, he wasn’t the only one getting hot for his pal. Interesting.
“Thanks,” he said as she stood and walked around behind him. As her palms grazed his back, he could have sworn he heard her stifle a groan.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine! Great!” Was he imagining things, or did her voice sound oddly high?
“Could you get that spot right between my shoulder blades?” he asked. “I always miss it, and I end up burning.”
“Sure, sure. No problem.”
He blinked back a flash of memory. Kayla’s arms wrapped around him, her nails digging into the flesh on either side of his spine as she cried out beneath him.
With her palms now stroking that hollow, he heard her breathing go ragged. He leaned into her touch, craving it more than he had any right to.
“Thanks for doing this.” Now his voice sounded weird—hoarse and ragged. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t mention it,” she squeaked.
Very interesting.
And not the least bit helpful for a guy struggling to keep his own lust in check.
Chapter Five
Kayla clicked the shutter one last time, then let the camera rest on its strap around her neck.
The light was gorgeous here. She could keep shooting all evening, but she needed to time this out right with sunset. It had taken her an hour to run the four miles to this spot, which was no easy feat with her camera gear.
But she’d wanted the exercise and this time alone to reflect. Not just on the destruction of the fire and the haunted ghost trees left in its wake, but the things she’d been reading in her book. And Tony.
What on earth had gotten into her? One second, she was innocently slathering sunscreen on his back, no different than when she did it for Willa and Aislin at the beach.
But the instant her palms had touched solid muscle, something liquified inside her. It was ridiculous and nothing at all like how she’d responded to him in their year of platonic friendship. What changed?
That night at the bar. Seeing him vulnerable. Open. Guard down.
The feel of his arms around her, their hearts drumming together, if only for a few seconds.
Tucking the camera into her padded backpack, she stretched her shoulders and tried to shake off her thoughts. It felt good being out here alone in the wilderness. And she had at least an hour until the sun went down. Time to implement the next stage in her self-improvement plan: Meditation.
She’d never been good at it. Just shutting off her brain, clamping down her thoughts, and retreating inside herself. But now was as good a time as any to learn, and the grassy riverbank felt like the perfect spot.
Picking her way along the trail, she settled on a sun-dappled patch of green along the water’s edge. Golden light rippled on the water, while birds swooped and chattered their delight at the evening’s insect buffet.
Kayla made her way to her chosen spot and folded herself into a kneeling position on the grass.
And then unfolded herself because ow, her knees. Okay, so cross-legged would work just as well. She set the camera bag off to the side, determined to do this right. Resting the backs of her hands on her knees, she let her fingers splay out, palms open to the sky the way she’d read about in her book.
There; that was nice. She was getting into it, feeling Zen and relaxed. She let her eyes fall shut and tried to think about peaceful things. Calming things—soothing stuff like…like ice cream. Yes, ice cream, that was good. She pictured the vanilla cone in her hand, the creamy goodness glinting in sunlight. She could picture it so clearly, imagining the rivulet of white dripping down the cone and over her knuckles and—
Ugh, no. That was no good. Sticky hands weren’t relaxing. She opened her eyes, determined to stay with the plan. The river—that was key. Maybe she should focus on the water, the gentle current, the way the silvery surface rippled and churned over rounded rocks glinting with damp sunlight.
Look at how the reeds swayed and shifted with the water, undulating just below the surface. A fish! Was that a trout? Or no, maybe a steelhead. She’d have to look it up later, maybe google to find out which fish were native to this region and which ones were—
Goddammit.
Gritting her teeth, she tried again.
“Relax,” she ordered herself.
Like it was really that easy. Shutting off her brain wasn’t as simple as freakin’ Patience O’Toole made it sound.
Focus on your breath.
Good. That was good. In, two, three, four, five, six…hold at the top.
She let her breath out slowly, counting to eight.
Or was it supposed to be the other way around? In for eight, out for six? Shit, shit, shit.
“Gah!” Her huff of frustration was definitely not very Zen. She’d work on that—all of it. She could do this. She could become a better person.
Closing her eyes, she tried to let her mind drift. Let go of thoughts, let go of energy, let go of—
Screw it. She had to pee. Glancing around, she scanned for an out
house. She already knew there were no restrooms in this rustic spot of wilderness, but maybe a pit toilet?
Nope, nothing but trees and river and that grassy meadow off in the distance. And she really had to go.
With a sigh, she crept behind a big ponderosa pine and wriggled her leggings down around her thighs. If she leaned against the tree trunk, she could keep her balance and get this over with quickly.
Except her shy bladder wouldn’t comply. Maybe anxiety about the lack of tissue paper. Could she use leaves? Or maybe—
“I love you so much, Butterbean.”
Kayla sucked in a breath. Oh, shit.
A second voice rang out, closer now. “I love you, too, Snookie Wookie.”
Gripping the tree trunk with her bare ass hanging out, Kayla peered around the weathered bark. A couple in their early twenties, walking hand in hand beside the river. The man had sandy hair and a red T-shirt, and the pretty blonde beside him wore a fluttery white top and a look of intense devotion.
Grateful she wasn’t mid-pee, Kayla gripped the waistband of her leggings and tried to pull them up. Dammit, her thighs were still sweaty from the run. She yanked harder, but they still didn’t budge.
Releasing her grip on the tree trunk, she toppled sideways with a soft yelp. A rock poked her bare hip as she struggled to yank the leggings up. No one had spotted her yet, but the couple was getting closer.
“It’s so beautiful here,” said the woman—Butterbean, was it? Her voice was distant but getting closer while Kayla writhed in the dirt like a snake trying to wriggle back into its shed skin.
“You think he likes it?” the woman asked.
“I think he loves it, Butterbean.”
Kayla yanked at the waistband again, dragging the leggings up so they bisected her butt in a most unflattering way. Her need to pee had vanished, replaced by the urgency to cover the top half of her ass as quickly as possible. She gave another yank as the voices drew closer.
“What do you think about Gilbert?” That was Butterbean again.
“It’s a nice name but not really what I had in mind.”
Kayla gave one more fierce tug, and the leggings slid into place. Thank God.
Heaving with relief, she knelt and peered around the tree to see Snookie Wookie pulling Butterbean in for a big, sloppy kiss.
“How about Winston?” The woman said when they drew apart. “I always liked that name.”
Aww, that was sweet. They must be expecting. A tiny pang of longing rippled through her chest, but Kayla pushed it back and reached for her camera bag. Maybe she should offer to snap a couple quick pics to congratulate them.
“I was thinking more like Tank,” the guy said. “Or Spike. Something manly, you know?”
Kayla frowned, pitying the poor unborn child. An excited “yip” flipped a switch in her brain as a small black-and-tan dog bounded into view. Ah, that made more sense.
“I’m not a fan of the macho dog names,” said Butterbean, pausing to tuck some strands of long blonde hair behind one ear. “What about Jack or maybe Sam?”
The man—Snookie Wookie—kissed her again as the dog danced between them, wrapping its leash around their ankles. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I still can’t believe the landlord said yes. He was such a dick about the pet thing when we signed the lease.”
The woman laughed and brushed a smudge of something off the guy’s forehead. “You have excellent powers of persuasion.”
Snookie Wookie’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The landlord?” Butterbean frowned. “You got him to waive the no-dog rule.”
“I thought you were emailing him about it.”
“Me?” The woman blinked. “No, you were supposed to do it.”
As the couple stared at each other, Kayla bit her lip. Okay, no photos. This was awkward.
The little dog had managed to yank his leash free and was sniffing closer to Kayla’s tree. She held a finger to her lips, willing him to be quiet. But the pooch spotted her and gave a joyous tail wag.
Yip!
Panting with delight, he pranced over as though propelled by his whirring tail.
“No, buddy—wait!”
But her whispered urging did nothing to stop the ten-pound bundle of glee from launching himself at her. Kayla opened her arms as the dog leaped into her lap. Licking and wagging, he greeted her like they were long-lost friends.
“Okay, shhh,” she hissed as she stroked his lean little body. She didn’t want to disturb the dog owners, whose voices were growing more heated. “Why don’t you stay here while Mom and Dad talk?” she whispered to the dog.
The dog wiggled on her lap and gave her hand a quick lick. He looked like a cross between a Chihuahua, a Min Pin, and maybe a beagle or something. Definitely a little hound in the mix, which explained the urge to slip free from his owners.
Owners who were presently focused on their disagreement. The discussion was getting louder, and Kayla glanced over to see Butterbean and Snookie Wookie squaring off. They hadn’t noticed her or the nameless dog’s departure, and they were definitely scowling.
“This is just like that time you cheated,” Snookie Wookie said, shaking his head. “We had an understanding, and you just changed your mind. Poof!”
“Yikes,” Kayla whispered as the dog snuggled closer. “That took a turn.”
The woman made an exasperated sound. “Oh, come on. So I watched two episodes ahead in Breaking Bad. I needed to see what happened with Walt and Skyler.”
“We agreed—”
“We agreed you’d leave the toilet seat down,” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night and end up with your cooter in the water?”
Kayla looked down at the dog, who was happily curled in a semicircle in her lap. “I’m thinking Snookie Wookie can’t relate to cold-water cooter,” she whispered. “Which is kind of unfortunate. Maybe guys wouldn’t do that so much if they could.”
The dog licked her hand again and wiggled his skinny little butt against her thigh. He really was pretty cute.
“Well at least I know how to pronounce GIF,” the man snapped. “It’s a hard G, like in ‘graphic,’ which makes sense because it freaking stands for Graphics Interchange Format.”
Butterbean rolled her eyes. “I saw an interview with the guy who invented it,” she countered. “It’s pronounced like the peanut butter—a J sound—GIF.”
Kayla looked down at the dog. “This is what modern couples argue about?”
Not that she hadn’t had silly squabbles with past boyfriends, but this was getting ridiculous. As she stroked a hand down the dog’s back, the couple swapped barbs about snoring and socks on the floor and whose job it was to turn out the light before coming to bed.
The dog looked up at her with wide, questioning eyes. She petted him some more, smiling when he stopped quivering. “Should we go buy them a Clapper?” she whispered. “Or maybe explain the concept of bedside lamps?”
The dog cocked his little head to the side and whined. He licked Kayla’s hand again, and she responded with a scratch under his chin. What a sweet little guy. Definitely not a Winston or a Tank or a—
“Hey!”
Kayla looked up to see the couple looking around frantically. “Where is the damn dog?” Snookie Wookie swiveled around, his brow furrowing. “I can’t believe you already lost the dog.”
“Me? Oh, that’s rich.”
“I didn’t even want a damn dog. You said it would be good practice for having kids, but at this point—”
“Um, hello?” Kayla waved an arm, still cradling the dog in her lap. “Over here. Your dog is safe.”
The little black-and-tan body shivered in her lap, and Kayla wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut.
Throwing he
r hands up in exasperation, Butterbean—er, the woman—stomped toward Kayla with Snookie Wookie on her heels. “Fine! I’ll take him back to the pound. We obviously can’t keep him, anyway, since someone didn’t get the okay from the landlord.”
“Well someone convinced me she’d handle all the doody duty, and yet here we are, almost a full day into dog ownership, and someone has yet to pick up a single canine land mine, and meanwhile someone appears to be bonding with the dog better than someone I know.”
Kayla’s attention ping-ponged quickly between the two, making her dizzy. She had a funny suspicion she accounted for at least one of those someones. A glance down at her lap convinced her the little dog did indeed look content in her lap.
She glanced up at the couple. “I’ll take him.”
What? Now where had that come from?
But it felt right, so she stroked her hand down the dog’s back and felt him wiggle with pleasure. “I’ve been wanting a dog, and this one seems sweet.”
Snookie Wookie gave Kayla a dubious look. “How do we know you’re not some dog abuser?”
Butterbean rolled her eyes. “Does she look like a dog abuser? Besides, it’ll save us a trip back to the pound.”
“Which pound?” Kayla asked. “I can go there myself and handle the paperwork so it’s all official.”
She couldn’t believe she was suggesting this, but she also couldn’t believe she’d never gotten a dog. A living, breathing, sweet creature to care for. Not the same as a baby, but she could feel her maternal instincts quivering. This was her dog. She knew it from the way he fit in the cradle of her lap, his soft breath fanning her calf.
“Good luck,” Butterbean said with another eye roll. “It’s over an hour away. We were there yesterday visiting someone’s college girlfriend, who he swears is just a friend, but I know—”
“Okay, um, I’ll take care of things.” Kayla got to her feet, cradling the dog against her chest. She was half tempted to run for it before they changed their minds.