by Lily Cahill
“You ready?” Clayton asked.
“Do your worst.”
Without warning, Clayton gunned it—taking special pleasure in how hard Will had to grip the dashboard just to stay standing.
The Bella Vita cut through the pristine waters like they were clouds, and adrenaline pumped through Clayton’s veins. He tasted the mist of water floating on the wind and thought he’d never been happier in his life. Even Will seemed to be enjoying himself; a smile was plastered on his face that looked as big as Clayton’s felt.
The brothers howled together as they raced through the waters, their jovial voices echoing off the mountains above.
“Faster!” Will demanded, clearly convinced. Clayton was happy to oblige.
He whipped the boat around a cluster of rocks on the north side of the lake, cutting it closer than he should, but the boat could handle it. It was the same model the Prince of Monaco owned. The mahogany Tritone runabout was perhaps a little more than was necessary for the lake, but Clayton wasn’t sorry. This rush was like nothing else.
“Damn she’s fast,” Will said, his usually strong voice barely audible above the chop of the waves.
Clayton slowed as they neared the swimming beach. “The model I tried in Italy last summer was fast too, but nothing like this. I take it you’re convinced?”
“Another round?” Will asked with a grin.
Clayton revved the engine and turned the boat. He took a detour, heading in the opposite direction. The festival was in full swing on the beach, and that meant the possibility of running straight into Lover’s Bridge. It was a festival tradition. Half the boats in town—nearly forty, mostly canoes—were set into a line by married couples, tied together bow to stern in a path that led to the nameless island in the middle of Lake Perseverance. It was supposed to be a test for the unwed. Those who made it were said to be destined for love while those who didn’t were doomed. It was an obstruction Clayton didn’t particularly appreciate at the moment. He wanted as much speed as he could muster.
He took it all the way to the other end of the lake—doing the whole three miles in under seven minutes—enjoying every bob and thrust of the water against its hull along the way. The weather was perfect tonight—warm but with enough breeze from the lake to keep cool. God, he had missed this place. Four years away from Independence Falls had been too much. He was glad to finally be graduated, finally be home.
“What do you say we head in?” Will suggested as they reached the opposite edge of the lake.
Clayton knew what he was asking. There was only one reason a man could be persuaded to get off this boat.
“Meg coming tonight?” Clayton asked with a grin. Meg was Will’s fiancée. They’d gotten engaged right after high school, but had to wait for Will to complete his law degree. Now that he’d graduated, they barely spent a moment apart.
“Should be there any minute,” Will said. “I told her I’d meet her by the dock. You got a girl coming tonight?”
“No romance for me,” Clayton said. It wasn’t that he was opposed to romance, exactly. It was that he couldn’t afford the distraction. No woman had seemed worth the risk of failing again. In his experience, those who didn’t throw themselves at him once they’d learned his last name were so cool and indifferent that he never knew what they really felt at all. The women in his social circle were all so alike—perfect speech, perfect deportment, perfect hair, never so much as a crack in their mannered façades. Sometimes he wondered if society ladies like his mother were churning them out of a factory somewhere, like little dolls.
“Careful. If you don’t pick someone yourself, Mom will do it for you.”
“I’m doing my best to convince her to give up on me once and for all.”
“Good luck, pal. Mom isn’t exactly the ‘giving up’ type.”
Clayton chuckled. Will’s words were an understatement.
From afar, Clayton spotted the blaze of the bonfire on the beach and realized Will was right. It was time to be heading back.
“Mark my words, she’ll be digging in even harder now that you’re back home,” Will said.
“She’ll have to catch me first,” Clayton said, grinning roguishly before revving the engine again. The rush of wind made talking impossible, which was fine with him. He wished his mother would lay off. He didn’t want to find someone like that. If he was going to fall in love, he wanted it to be natural, spontaneous … not manufactured from good breeding and excellent connections. It had to start with a spark.
The moment they arrived, Will darted down the dock and kissed Meg full on the lips. Clayton chuckled to himself as the two disappeared into the crowd. Meg was sweet and they were good together. If he could find someone half as great as Meg, he’d consider himself a lucky man.
Clayton docked his baby and made his way into the festival crowd. It seemed like the entire town was wandering across the swim beach, carrying candles and eating caramel popcorn. The smell of cotton candy wafted through the air and brought back images of his childhood—of running through this place with Will and the other boys when they were kids, trying to do everything all at once. Independence Falls had been a wonderful place to grow up. He smiled, wondering if Mrs. McClure had made her famous lemonade this year.
It was then that he spotted her.
She had hair as dark as chestnuts and lips as red as wild strawberries. She carried a candle like everyone else at the festival, but its glow seemed extra warm on her skin. His breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely the most stunning creature he’d ever seen.
Where was she from? He didn’t recognize her, and he was sure that if a woman as beautiful as that lived in town he would know her. Maybe she was visiting a relative or a friend, but she seemed to be alone. How was that possible? How did the exquisite beauty not already have a man on her arm? She must be new in town. The boys were sure to descend on her soon.
He walked toward her, trying to get a better look, but suddenly realized there was a group of kids who seemed to be following her. Could she have a child? She didn’t seem near old enough for that.
Then he realized what was happening. The boys were throwing popcorn in her hair when she wasn’t looking—trying to make a game of it. He frowned. Boys were always so stupid around beautiful women, but their horsing around had gone far enough.
He was so heated he almost failed to notice that the woman had changed direction. She was walking away, trying to disappear into the crowd. But the boys were following her, continuing their immature little game. Did she even see what they were doing?
The little brats.
And no one was stopping them. Not a single person. He looked at her again, registered her worn dress, her tired shoes. She must not have much money. People could be so cruel sometimes. Anger rose in his blood, hot and strong. No one deserved to be treated like that.
He marched right up to her and hooked his elbow into hers.
“Sorry I’m late, darling,” he said, making sure his voice was loud enough for the whole crowd to hear him. They might not welcome a newcomer, but he was a Briggs, and that name meant something. Their eyes shifted from her to him, which was exactly what he’d hoped would happen.
He turned to the little delinquents. “Scram,” he said.
The boys’ eyes grew wide. They ran. If they knew what was good for them, they’d keep running.
Then the woman turned and looked up at him. His heart nearly stopped beating. Those eyes. Those incredible blue eyes. He hadn’t been able to see them from afar, but close up they were mesmerizing—clear and dark as sapphires with flecks of black as deep as the night sky.
They were also staring at him in a mix of anger and hurt and confusion. Could she really be so wary of him? So shocked at such an easy kindness?
Somehow, he managed to get ahold of himself long enough to speak again.
“Walk with me?” he asked.
Every muscle in her body seemed to tighten at his suggestion.
“No,” sh
e said. She looked downright appalled.
But, why? Certainly he was a better alternative than the staring crowd?
He leaned in and whispered. “Play along or they’ll eat you alive.”
“But you’re a Briggs,” she whispered violently.
“Who better to help teach them a lesson?”
That seemed to change something in her. She drew up her shoulders, lifted her chin.
“Fine,” she said.
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but he’d take it.
Clayton led her along the shore. With each step they took away from the crowd, she seemed to get more and more agitated. It was one of the oddest things he’d ever seen. Women weren’t exactly shy about vying for his attention. But she seemed like she wanted to run as far away from him as soon as possible. He had to resist the urge to clutch her arm tighter to prevent it.
Finally, he found a dark spot where a tree trunk curled over the lake, its tangled roots making a natural seat above the lapping waters. They sat.
He took the candle from her hand, then dripped the wax onto a flat spot of root and stuck the candle there.
“Now here. Let me get that stuff out of your hair.”
Panic struck her face. Her hand flew to the back of her head. He could see the wave of shame as it rolled over her and he immediately regretted saying anything at all.
“Thank you, but I’ll manage,” she said, and stood up to leave.
“Please stay?” he said, catching her by the hand. “I’m sorry. I want to help.”
Her mouth drew tighter, but her eyes searched him, shifting in deep, vivid clouds that betrayed her true thoughts. She was torn. He could see it. She didn’t trust him to help, but she didn’t want to walk back through that crowd either, and it was the only way off the beach.
“Come on,” he said, moving to stand behind her. Bobbed hair was in fashion these days, but she wore hers past her shoulders. Clayton liked it. He drew a piece of popcorn out of her long locks and tossed it in the lake. “Once I’m done we can go try our luck at horseshoes.”
“I don’t want to play horseshoes,” she said. There was an edge of anger in her voice, almost an accusing tone—why? She balled her fists at her sides, but didn’t move away from him this time. She stayed still, let him do what needed to be done.
“The bell-ringer, then?”
“No,” she said.
The boys had had good aim. Her dark hair was covered in fluffy white kernels, a constellation of caramel. She smelled delicious—the sweetness of the popcorn mingled with the earthy, wild plum scent of her. He wanted to lean in closer and inhale the smell of her alabaster skin, glowing pearl against the flickering candlelight. Instead, he combed his fingers gently through the long, soft curls and watched the popcorn sprinkle to the ground. With every strand, her fists seemed to relax a bit more.
“How about the dunk tank? We might be able to convince Mr. Clint to give up his place to one of those little brats back there. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
He thought he saw the hint of a smile curl under her cheeks.
“No, thank you.”
He was nearly finished, but found he didn’t want to be. Her hair was so soft and silky; he liked the feel of it twisted around his fingers.
“I’m sorry about what they did. Boys are idiots around pretty girls.”
“Boys are often idiots without the help of a pretty girl.”
Clayton laughed. “I suppose you’re right about that,” he said.
He tossed away the last little bit of fluff, then stepped to face her. “All done.”
She took a deep breath and met his eye. “Thank you.”
“So you won’t have horseshoes or the bell-ringer or the dunk tank. What would you like to do, then? Take your pick. We can do whatever you’d like.”
“You’ve been very kind, but—”
“There’s a moonlit puppet show, but you seem a little old for that.”
“I’m sorry, really, but—”
“Cotton candy, then?” he asked. He’d heard her protests, but he couldn’t let her go so easily. He had to at least try. She had intrigued him, and he wanted to know more. “No one’s too old for cotton candy.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She looked so earnest in her question that he felt his throat go tight.
“Can’t a boy ask a pretty girl to spend some time with him?”
“I, ah, I…,” her voice trailed off and her face went flush.
“Isn’t there anything that would tempt you to stay?” he asked, looking into her eyes. He felt an intense desire to kiss her. If he hadn’t been positive she’d take off running, he would have done exactly that.
“I know,” he said. “Let’s cross Lover’s Bridge.”
All at once, the flush disappeared from her cheeks. Her eyes grew sharp and suspicion furrowed her brow. She looked quite like she wanted to kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
Cora
“Lover’s Bridge?” Cora asked with derision in her voice. Now she knew it was a trick. Maybe those boys had been working with him the whole time. She wouldn’t be anybody’s fool. Especially a Briggs’. “You want to cross Lover’s Bridge with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Why indeed. Crossing Lover’s Bridge wasn’t something you did alone. It was for couples. Even so, only the brave chanced the rocking bridge, and many plunged into the newly thawed waters along the way.
She had never attempted the cross. Sure, boys had asked, but she’d never agreed. It wasn’t the danger that scared her. She had a steady foot and was a strong swimmer. What held her back was what happened when you got to the other side. She’d heard more than one story about the things that took place on that island. Making it across was apparently such a good omen for a relationship that couples couldn’t resist each other. Apparently, they couldn’t resist each other if they fell in the water either.
She took a step away from him. “I’m not crossing Lover’s Bridge with you.”
Clayton followed, looking at her as though he couldn’t understand the word no. Of course he couldn’t. He was a Briggs. He probably hadn’t heard the word very often.
“You can’t swim?” he asked.
“Of course I can swim.” She kept walking, but his strides were longer than hers.
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of,” he said.
“I’m not afraid. And I’m not stupid either.”
What had she been thinking letting a Briggs charm her like that, get her alone?
But he had been kind, hadn’t he? He had helped her get away from all those hateful, leering faces. And then that awful popcorn in her hair. She could still feel the brush of his strong fingers against her scalp. Goose bumps raised on her arm just thinking about it, the traitors.
It seemed like he was being nice. She just couldn’t understand why.
“You are scared,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Then why not give it a go?”
Such a stupid question, yet he looked like he genuinely wanted to know the answer. What was wrong with him? Had he gone mad? Or had he just been away at college so long that the age-old hatred between their families no longer mattered?
There was a glint in Clayton’s eye as he took her hand in both of his.
“I know what they say, but it’s just an old wives tale. It doesn’t mean anything. And don’t you see? It would show them not to bother you. It would show them all.”
He wanted to cross Lover’s Bridge as a show? A message to the town? Was it possible?
Cora looked into his eyes. They looked so honest, so sincere.
And it wasn’t like he’d ever been mean to her before, was it? He’d barely known she was alive in high school.
Maybe his perspective had shifted at college. Maybe he was just being nice.
Maybe.
“Fine. Have it your way. But I’m not doing whatever it is you think we’re doing when we get over th
ere.”
Clayton laughed so loud it startled her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m just very intrigued by what it is you think I have planned for you.”
Cora scowled again. “Do you want to do this or not?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Clayton said. He extended his hand and she took it.
Goose bumps fanned across her arm, betraying her again. Cora couldn’t help herself. He was devilishly handsome and she liked the feeling of his hand around hers. It was so warm, so strong. Their hands seemed to fit together just right. The thought sent a tingle up her spine.
Get ahold of yourself.
He’s a Briggs. And you’re just a Murphy.
Walking toward the boat bridge was akin to walking the plank. As they approached, hand in hand, the crowd began to cheer. Whether they were cheering for love or cheering because they wanted to watch someone get soaked was hard to tell.
“Don’t fall!”
“Good luck!”
“Smoochie, smoochie!”
Cora’s face flushed. Why on earth had she agreed to this? They took their first steps onto the first boat. It wobbled more than she had expected and she nearly lost her footing. She gripped Clayton’s hand tight.
“Don’t worry,” Clayton said as a roar went up from the crowd. “I’ve got you.”
“This one’s goin’ in the drink!” someone shouted.
“She’ll be right at home,” someone else yelled.
Cora steadied herself and loosened her grip on Clayton. No way was she going to give anyone a reason to laugh at her any more than they already did. And no way was she going to make a fool of herself in front of Clayton Briggs.
Her next steps were more careful, more sure, and before she knew it they had crossed to the next boat. Then the next and the next.
“You’re really getting the hang of it,” Clayton said.
She was getting the hang of it. In fact, she was enjoying herself.
“You’re not doing so bad yourself,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ve done this before.” She’d never known Clayton to be without a girlfriend, and they were always the prettiest girls. What was he even doing here with her? Why had he tried to help her at all? Worry niggled at her again. Was he playing some elaborate trick? Was she falling for it?