by Laurel Greer
Living out on Moosehorn Lake, a twenty-minute drive from the town center, gave her enough distance not to feel truly pathetic about the double knots keeping her tied to home. She was close enough to take care of her dad and her sister, and to help Mackenzie and Andrew once the baby arrived, but far enough away she wasn’t living in their pockets.
She was independent. Owned a stunning, green-roofed log house on a pristine chunk of waterfront. Had a meaningful job that connected her to her mom. So what if she chose to be a homebody, to put her family first? Just because her chosen lifestyle was the polar opposite of Tavish’s didn’t make it any less valid.
Though it does mean we shouldn’t have exchanged rings...
And shouldn’t have made promises neither of them was capable of keeping.
She was stretching into downward dog when the roar of a ski boat broke through her meditative breathing. Teenagers, probably. Her nearest neighbor, the quintessential get-off-my-lawn sort, would be pissed off to have boat noise before eight.
A quick glance west corrected her assumption of the age of the perpetrators. She immediately recognized not only the stripe down the side of the sleek vessel barreling in her direction, but the passengers within it.
Not teenagers.
Clearly the groom had escaped any serious abuse at the bachelor party if he was on the lake at this hour. The early-morning sun silhouetted her brother’s broad shoulders as he steered from his perch on the top of his seat. Mackenzie’s red ponytail blew in the wind from her position in the bow seat, facing backward as the spotter. Cadie snuggled in the passenger seat across from Andrew, the hood of her zippered sweatshirt pulled up.
Lauren didn’t need to look to know who they were towing.
Every muscle stood out on Tavish’s wetsuit-clad body as he tore up the water behind the boat, creating an incandescent rooster tail taller than his six-foot frame.
So much for steering clear of him.
All four of them waved as they passed Lauren, seemingly headed for the slalom course a few hundred yards east of her dock.
Giving up on yoga and ready for any entertainment that could distract her from the little voice in her heart that said things she didn’t want to hear, she pulled her knees up to her chest.
Her brother aimed his boat through the two white marker balls. She shadowed her eyes and reluctantly admired Tavish as he passed through the course, creating an S pattern as he cut around the balls positioned on alternate sides of the center guides.
She’d have accused him of showing off, but he had perfect right to do so. Tavish Fitzgerald carved up the water like a four-star chef did a Christmas turkey.
Something hot and needy, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, pulled at her core and made her skin tingle. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms and tried to focus on his skill rather than his amazing body.
After Tavish successfully rounded all six obstacles, Andrew slowed the boat and Tavish sank into the water. Cadie unhooked the tow rope and reattached it at a shorter length, and Andrew kicked the boat up to a roar once again.
Tavish didn’t look as competent with less rope to deal with, bailing hard after two passes. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat until she heard his laugh echo on the water. Andrew didn’t waste any time getting Tavish back up and heading in the direction of her dock.
She cursed her brother’s efficiency. Tavish in a wetsuit five hundred yards out had heated her to the point of needing to jump in the chilly lake. Said man, plus said wetsuit, but minus four-hundred and ninety-nine yards might get her on the evening news for proving spontaneous combustion wasn’t a myth.
The boat ripped by, and he let go of the rope. He was nice enough not to spray her. As a teenager, he’d been able to drench the entire public dock without getting his hair wet. She imagined he hadn’t lost that talent. Then again, had he sprayed her, it might have saved her a load of embarrassment by killing the flush she knew had crept up her cheeks. He knew how to read her. Would know what her pink face meant.
Lauren bent down at the edge of the dock to catch his ski and shook her head in disbelief. “The lake’s freezing and the sun is barely up.”
“I don’t see any ice.” With a powerful stroke, he pushed his ski toward her. It skimmed into her waiting hands.
He climbed up the ladder just as she lifted the ski out of the lake, bringing her gaze within inches of the pull of his violet eyes.
She straightened, breaking away from the hypnotizing effect he had on her brain. “You’re not supposed to get stitches wet. Plus, the strain could tear them.”
“Drew and I made a waterproof dressing.”
“And tearing?”
He grinned cockily. “I’m a risk taker.”
They were interrupted by the rumbling of the boat as Andrew maneuvered it up to the dock and cut the engine. He turned down the dial on the stereo, lowering the volume on the country song blasting out of the speakers by half.
She smiled at her brother, then shook her head at Tavish. “You’re a dumbass.”
Tavish laughed and scrubbed the water from his hair. A few chilly droplets landed on Lauren’s cheeks. She was surprised they didn’t evaporate on contact.
“Nice welcome there, Laur.” Andrew raised a teasing eyebrow as he shoved up his sunglasses.
“One of the many services I provide.” Lauren grinned. Mackenzie tossed her the bow rope and she fastened the length around one of the cleats.
“We figured you wouldn’t be busy,” Mackenzie said as Andrew hopped out of the boat and proceeded to offer both his hands to help her to the dock. “We can hold off on the pew bows for an hour or two. Garnet’s covering for Andrew this morning.”
An hour or two. Doable. Right?
But Lauren had been wrong about Tavish one too many times to believe her own bravado.
Smiling stiffly at her siblings, she tried to ignore her ex-husband as he peeled off his wetsuit.
She failed miserably. There were things a girl could forget in her life. Tavish’s ripped abdominals, marred only by a faded appendectomy scar, didn’t qualify. But they didn’t look exactly the same as they had the last time she’d seen him shirtless—a tattoo wrapped his torso under his left arm, a watercolor nature scene bleeding out of a bold diamond-shaped frame. The bottom of the frame dipped below the waistband of his navy-and-white surfing shorts. The scene looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline from mountain peak to stream.
Admiring Tavish’s taut stomach, another urge built deep in Lauren’s belly.
She fought that, too.
Mackenzie tossed him a towel, and he dried the water droplets clinging to the butterscotch-colored hair sprinkled on his well-formed chest.
Lauren jerked her gaze away. “Cadie, is Ben with Dad?” she asked, referring to her sister’s baby son.
Her sister nodded. “They headed off to see some of the new horses at Auntie Georgie’s ranch for the day.” Doting on Ben became a downright family competition at times. Parenting solo had been that much harder given Cadie had been recently widowed when Ben was born, so everyone pitched in when they could. “We brought chocolate croissants, Laur. Thought we’d have a bite to eat and then do some more skiing.”
Accompanied by Tavish’s perfectly formed pecs. Great. Drawing from the same well of determination as when she dealt with bodily fluids at the clinic, she forced her lips into a grin and reached for the box of pastries. “I’ll take these up to the patio table and go put on a pot of coffee. Want me to boil some water for herbal tea, Kenz?”
“Please,” Mackenzie replied, eyes slightly narrowed. She’d glanced between Tavish and Lauren more than once since getting out of the boat.
Lauren beat a hasty retreat to her kitchen. She had to do a better job of hiding her reactions to Tavish over breakfast.
For
the next twenty minutes she sipped her coffee, munched on a croissant and participated in small talk. She even did a decent job of keeping her eyes on her food and off the way Tavish’s arms bulged under his T-shirt.
Setting down his empty coffee cup with emphasis, Andrew looked at her with a cheeky smile. “You going to try to beat my slalom-course record today, Laur?”
“I just may.” She grinned back, feeling in her element for the first time since Tavish showed up for stitches yesterday. Skiing, she could do. She ran into her house to grab her wetsuit and ski, early hour and ex-husbands be damned.
When she returned, Cadie and Mackenzie had taken up residence in the pair of cushioned lounge chairs on the dock. Her brother sat sideways in the driver’s seat of his boat, sandals propped on the passenger’s dashboard. Tavish straddled the port-side gunwale, one bare foot in the boat and one on the dock. All long limbs and straining T-shirt and way too delicious.
As Lauren strolled down the gangplank with her ski in one hand and her life jacket in the other, she caught him watching her. His throat bobbed. Yeah, she knew she looked good in her wetsuit. The neoprene enhanced each one of her curves. A thrill zipped through her body that he’d noticed.
“I’m up next,” she announced. “I want to see what my new ski can do.”
“I think it’s more the skier than the ski, Laur.” Tavish raked a hand through his hair. Sunlight reflected off the twisted gold-and-silver links of a bracelet on his left wrist. “When was the last time you went out?”
“Last weekend.” She walked to the end of the dock, watching him with a confident eye as she sprayed lubricant in the bindings and slid her feet in.
“I don’t remember you being that into waterskiing,” he said, sounding puzzled.
She mimicked the cocky grin he’d sent her way when he’d skied up to the dock. “That’s what happens when you stay away—people change. And learn how to trounce you on the slalom course.” She sat on the edge of the dock, both feet secure in midcalf-high boots, and held her hand out for the tow rope.
“You want this length?” Tavish’s eyes widened. The rope was still the length he’d last used—one requiring a good deal of skill.
“For now. I’ll use it as a warm-up.”
He guffawed. “A warm-up. Right.”
“Yeah. Right.” She left no room for misunderstanding in her voice.
“Okay.” He didn’t sound at all convinced as he tossed her the rope and sat on the passenger side of the boat with his feet resting on the carpeted engine cover.
Andrew turned to Tavish. “Ten bucks says you eat your words.”
Tavish snorted. “Done.”
Within a minute they roared away from the dock. Lauren channeled her frustration over Tavish’s doubt into cutting back and forth across the wake until they entered the slalom course. Then all thoughts of her ex-husband disappeared as she focused on leaning against the rope, flying back and forth. Releasing her outside arm as she rounded each ball, then pulling the rope in tight to her hip as she turned in the other direction, she did her best to send up a cascade of water twice the size of Tavish’s.
As she cut around the third ball of six, she let out a whoop—she’d beaten Tavish’s performance. Ha. Her competitive streak hadn’t kicked in this strong in a while. She’d blame him for that, too. He was already at fault for stealing away the peace of her morning; what was one more charge?
Successfully reaching the end of the course, Lauren held up a palm in a stop signal. Andrew slowed the boat to an idle, and she sank into the water.
“Take the rope in, Tavish,” she called.
“Seriously?” His voice lifted in surprise. “Twenty-eight feet off is damn tough.”
“And I’m damn good.” Satisfaction spread through her at being able to bring the glow of amazement into Tavish’s eyes. “Change the rope. And hurry up. Pretty sure I can feel ice crystals in my capillaries.”
“Don’t get testy. I just didn’t know you were trying to go pro.” Tavish unhooked the rope and refastened it, six feet shorter.
“I beat you. Now I need to do the same for Andrew.” Lauren took a breath and gripped the rope handle. She’d have to stretch out parallel to the water to get around any of the balls—her five feet and one scant inch worked against her at this point.
“Ready, Lauren?” Andrew called.
“Hit it.” Lauren tucked and let the boat pull her out of the water.
She quickly adjusted to the short rope. The heat of temper buzzed in her muscles as she stretched out toward the first ball. Releasing the handle with one hand, she cut around the obstacle. Inches from the surface of the lake, she somehow managed to pull herself up with enough time to repeat the feat on the other side. Her arms and quads screamed at her. She forced her body to submit one last time but that was it. Muscles totally gassed, she ripped back toward the middle of the wake where she stayed instead of trying for the remaining balls. That tied her brother’s personal best—she’d beat him by the end of the summer. And surpassing Tavish tasted too sweet to fuss about Andrew’s record. Tapping her head with the palm of her hand to signal she wanted to head home, she made lazy passes all the way back to the dock.
Cadie and Mackenzie clapped loudly as she let go of the rope and sank into the water. She shimmied out of her ski and propelled it toward Cadie, who waited for it on the dock. “My turn!” her sister announced, getting ready to enter the water.
Tavish climbed out of the boat, and Mackenzie took his place as spotter, and then Andrew gunned the engine once more.
Lauren busied herself drying off and slipping back into her yoga pants, not happy to be left alone with her ex-husband, who stood by the ladder. With his back to her and his arms crossed, she could only guess that he was feeling the same. But she wasn’t in a hurry to find out if she was right on that. The out-in-the-wide-open dock smothered like a musty closet.
By the time she acknowledged him with a quiet “Pretty sure you owe Andrew ten bucks,” the boat was at the far end of the lake.
Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, he stretched out his long legs. He linked his fingers behind his head and fixed her with an inquisitive look. “You trying to prove something out there?”
“Maybe.” She sat down on the other deck chair and snuggled against the backrest. “Guess I wanted to remind you that just because I’m a homebody doesn’t mean I’m boring.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Pixie, I haven’t had a boring moment with you once.”
Pixie? Oh, God. He’d started calling her that back in high school once he’d officially surpassed her by a full foot. It had made her laugh then, so she’d put up with it. After she broke up with him—college plus distance did not mix—he’d stopped using the endearment. Until he and Andrew had crashed her friends-only trip to Vegas to celebrate her finishing her residency. He’d confessed to still loving her, to wanting to make it work. And she’d loved him enough to try to compromise. Once they’d exchanged vows, he’d added “Pixie” back into his lexicon.
Usually when he was trying to get her out of her clothes.
Then again, “I love you” had worked like a charm, too. But it had only taken a couple of weeks to learn no compromise was enough to keep that love alive.
He pressed his lips together and looked away. Was he as tortured by the memory as she? He deserved to be, damn it.
“Quite the place you found,” he ground out.
Glancing up at the sparkling glass and stained logs, Lauren smiled. “I bought it in the fall.”
His eyes turned serious. “I’m surprised you’re this far out of town, though. Given how you insisted you wanted to stay close to your dad and Cadie.”
“Just because I want to be close to them doesn’t mean I need to live next door.” Glaring at him, she pressed her water-chilled hands against her too-hot cheeks.
He got a near-apologetic look on his face. “Or maybe they don’t need you as much as you claim they do.”
The heat in her face spread down her neck, spiraled into her belly and legs. She dropped her hands, clenched her fingers. “I’m less than a half hour away. That’s pretty fricking close.”
“And if we’d been somewhere else and they’d needed you, you could have—” He sighed. “Never mind. I needed to talk to you about—”
“We’ve done enough talking.”
“I—” He shifted his gaze to the end of the lake, where the boat had turned around. The hum of the engine reached a crescendo as it approached. “I guess it can wait. So, you were pretty impressive to watch out there.”
She wanted to insult his own performance to regain a fighting position in their spar, but couldn’t, not when any insult would be a lie. “You, too,” she admitted.
His expression flickered with amusement. “Was that so hard?”
“No.” Some lies were worth the guilt. She pivoted, feeling stronger facing him head-on, and rubbed her hands together to try to increase the blood flow to her ice-cold fingertips. Sometimes she could forget, could go back to when she was seventeen and he was eighteen and they had all summer to flirt and gibe. Other times, the pain of his desertion—and the knowledge she was equally to blame as he was—hurt so badly she expected to spit up blood.
He leaned forward and took her hands in his. The warmth of his touch immediately seeped into her skin. “I didn’t think we’d end up like this. I thought we’d move on.”
A solid rush of frustration erupted in her chest. “How am I supposed to move on when you keep poking at me, trying to make it sound like it was all my fault we couldn’t make this work?”
He sat, mouth open, gripping her hands so she couldn’t get away. She pulled, but he hung on.
“Let go, Tavish. We failed at being together. And I’ve been lying to my family about it for a year. Two transgressions I don’t take lightly.”
He met her challenge with a gaze that bit straight through to her core. His grip on her fingers changed from a utilitarian warming rub to a more sensual press. “It’s not something either of us should take lightly. And had you been willing to tell our families about what happened in Vegas, you might not be so damn stuck.”