She was flirting with me, driving me crazy with desire.
She paused and studied my fingers a minute. Finally, she raised her left arm again. “This robotic arm is beautiful. I love it. But—”
“There’s a but?”
She unstrapped and pulled her arm off suddenly, revealing her real arm. It was small and undersized. She had an elbow, but very little forearm. It was just a stump with a partially formed hand at the end. No real fingers. She set her robotic arm in her lap. “You’d be amazed what I can do with just this.” She leaned into me and rested her small arm on my shoulder, looking at me, watching my reaction, her face close to mine.
And damn, I hoped she couldn’t tell how hot she made me. I swallowed hard.
“I’ve had a cosmetic prosthesis of some kind since I was a baby.” She laughed. “My first ones are so cute. Mom saved them for me. They’re tiny. My poor parents nearly went broke buying me new prostheses as I grew. Mom says I grew out of arms faster than I grew out shoes.”
She rested her chin on her arm on my shoulder. “But you know what? Those cosmetic prostheses couldn’t do half of what I could do with the arm I was born with. I learned how to do practically everything ‘regular’ people could do. I didn’t know any different.”
She pulled away, took up her arm, and put it back on. She held it up again. “When I got this arm, and its forerunners, I had to relearn how to do things. It gave me more capabilities, true. But it also hindered me. I had to relearn how to do things so that I used it instead of my old methods. There are days when I take it off and just do everything without it. Sometimes that’s easier, depending on what I’m doing.”
“Are you giving me a pep talk?” I asked.
“You seem like a big boy—do you need one?”
I needed something else. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t answer.
“We’re not so different, really,” she said. “We both learned how to live and thrive with the limbs we were born with. And yet we’re opposite, too. I have my natural arm and had to learn how to use a prosthesis, which messed up my natural pattern, but gave me more capabilities. You had a fully functioning hand and are trying to get some of that capability back. We’ve both had to relearn our patterns. I bet there are times, many of them, when you just want to be au naturel, no prosthesis, no stares, no judgment, and do what it is you do.”
I found myself nodding. She understood.
In all my rehabilitation at the VA, I hadn’t met anyone born without a limb. The soldiers I saw had all lost one. Meeting Callie showed me a different point of a view. I’d only just met her and already she was making me view myself and life differently, in a much better way.
“I love the way you think,” I blurted out.
Her answering laugh was tinkling, fun, light, and beautifully uplifting. “You love the way I think. The way I view life?” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have many optimistic people in your life, I take it?”
“I have plenty,” I said. “Just no one who thinks like you do.”
Her answering smile took my breath away. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Before I could say more, the bus pulled to a stop in the lower parking lot of Snoqualmie Falls.
Peter popped to his feet from his seat in the front of the van. “We’re here. Everyone to your battle stations. Let’s get this show on the road. We only have so many hours of light.”
Callie gathered up her things. “This area is very popular for taking engagement photos.”
It might have been my imagination, but I thought there was a sigh in her voice. I wondered why.
She slid her coat on and shot me a teasing look. “This is going to be fun.”
Callie
Peter was a maniac on the shoot—only so many hours of daylight, people. I’d worked with photographers like him before—talented and aggressive about getting the shoot right. He had a story for the shoot that involved following the evolution of a wedding from taking an early wedding morning stroll through the woods to the river, through the wedding, culminating in the honeymoon suite. The honeymoon shoot wasn’t until tomorrow. I hadn’t yet seen Knox’s abs. I hoped they were as shredded as I imagined. Something to look forward to.
The day was sunny, but chilly. A few remnants of snow still clung to the shadows. I snuggled into my coat as I stepped from the bus onto the parking lot. The crew sprang to action, carrying gear and herding us toward a path to the river.
I hadn’t planned on hiking, either. I hadn’t worn the shoes for it, but I forged ahead gamely down the incline to the river. The trail was mostly packed dirt and gravel. I stumbled once when a bit of gravel gave way beneath my feet.
Knox was quick to catch me by my elbow with his partially robotic left hand. “Careful there.”
Our eyes met. I was sure he didn’t think so, but he used his left hand with more skill and dexterity than he thought. “My hero.”
He laughed. “That’s me. The Six Million Dollar Man.”
“Six million dollars for fingers now, is it?” I teased. “You really need to get some 3D-printed fingers. They’re much cheaper.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
As we neared the end of the trail, the river made itself known with the soothing white noise of rushing water. The trees around us whispered in the wind. Birds sang. The river, the woods, the air—everything smelled fresh and free. Being near Knox heightened the sensation. I felt comfortable with him, free to be myself.
The setting was stunning—just downriver from Snoqualmie Falls. It was easy to see what engagement photographers loved about the location. It was a color palette in nature. Want blues and cool colors? The river was a deep blue, a different shade of it depending on the sky and lighting, a perfect flowing blue foil. The river rocks on shore were smooth and varied sizes, shapes, and shades of light blue that blended to grays.
If yellow was your thing, the plants along shore were still coming out of winter’s sleep—a palette of tans, creams, and soft yellows with the hint of spring buds. And then there was green. Green in a wide variety of hues from deep emerald to pale spring green in the lushly forested areas just uphill from the river.
There was nothing quite as romantic in nature as the mystery of a forest. Ivy embraced the trees. Ferns and leaves hovered around the bases of giant cedars and Douglas firs. Moss appeared in clumps and velveted long, tumbled logs. It was a beautiful place to be. It was a perfect place to be photographed with someone you loved.
Hair, makeup, and wardrobe set up quick tents. Knox and I were touched up and dressed in the first product line of the day—casual bridal sweatshirts, tees, and caps for brides and grooms and jeans, yoga pants or leggings. Some were elegant with bride sequined on. Some were silly printed Tshirts or sweatshirts, often matching bride and groom. Sold! To the beautiful woman in the white dress on his shirt. Or I do on mine and I do what she says on his.
Knox looked even hotter in jeans and Tshirts than he had in a tux. He belonged in the outdoors. It was his habitat. You could tell by the way he moved. He was so at home here that he lost all the stiffness he’d had in the studio. Suddenly he was a modeling natural.
Peter’s shot list was long—poses of us gazing into each other’s eyes, walking hand in cyber-hand, my head on Knox’s shoulder, sitting on a log on the riverbank with his arm around me, nearly kissing—do you know how aggravating it was to have my lips inches from his for shot after shot?
I’d never felt like this with any of the men I’d modeled with before. Always I’d been nothing but professional. Any chemistry was purely professional. But this was something more. Something thrilling, but almost frightening.
I shouldn’t feel this way about a guy on a shoot. It wasn’t smart, career-wise. And the timing was off. With my career-making spokesmodel gig in hand, I couldn’t afford to fall for a guy I hadn’t been matched with.
I had an appointment day after tomorrow with Ashley to go over my dating profile, likes and dislikes, and desirab
le characteristics in a future spouse. I had yet to go on any match dates. First I had to finish the profile. I had to get that done today. Pair Us was eager to launch me as their spokesmodel, but we’d all agreed I’d do the Flash work first.
Modeling can be grueling work. Holding a pose, at an awkward angle, for minutes on end. Holding a smile but making it look spontaneous was a little bit like holding a squat. It sounds so easy. It is easy. For about a minute, until your legs start to burn.
Knox didn’t know the rules of the job. The photographer sets the shots. The models do as they’re told. After a long morning of wardrobe changes and snapping shots in the woods, Peter told us to head to the river for a short lunch break.
Knox and I were wearing matching bride and groom Tshirts that had sayings on both front and back. Hair had perched a white bridal baseball cap on my head. We both wore jeans and casual canvas shoes with no socks.
Knox grabbed my hand. “Betcha we can beat them back to the river. First people back get the best choice of sandwiches.”
“Maybe you can beat them back,” I said, teasing. “The trail’s too treacherous for me.”
“Not when you’re with me.” He gave me another little tug. “Chicken?”
Before I could answer, he was running down the path, pulling me with him, our backs to Peter.
I squealed, half with pleasure, half with fear. The trail was steep in places and littered with cones from the trees, divots, loose gravel, and exposed tree roots just right for tripping over. None of these treacherous conditions slowed Knox down. We ran hand in hand. He gave me balance.
He grabbed me and swung me over a small stream in the path. He scooped me up and slid with me in his arms down the steepest part of the gravel trail. And I was laughing. Laughing and smiling and floating with happiness in a way I hadn’t thought possible.
“Don’t you dare drop me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Never.” He kept running. “Not dropping people is my superpower.”
“I thought playing piano was your one superpower?”
“I lied. I didn’t want to come off as too superior or arrogant. Now that I know you like cocky guys, I’ll brag all I like.”
“I never said I like cocky men.” I held on tighter. “I believe I said women in general—”
“Duck.” He bent suddenly as a felled, low-hanging tree appeared over the path ahead.
I snuggled into him, clutching his shirt in nervous handfuls, and pressing my face against his shirt for added drama and fun. We made it under the log. He set me on my feet again, pulling me down the last gentle slope of the trail onto the shores of the river, where the staff had set up camp.
I expected him to slow down and stop. But even as I tried to dig my heels in, he pulled me faster, past the waiting staff and tents, with Peter running after us, shouting not to stop. It took me a second to realize Knox’s intent.
“Don’t you dare!” I pulled against him. “That river is mountain fed. It’s cold as ice. It’s frigid with snow runoff.”
Behind us, Peter was egging Knox on and manning the drone he’d brought for the shoot, keeping it on us. “Fabulous. Fantastic! Keep going. Run, man, run! Into the water! Into the river!”
The river was dangerously near. I couldn’t get a toehold in the loose rocks of the river shore. “We’ll ruin the clothes.”
My protest was feeble and lacking in truth and conviction. The manufacturer wouldn’t want these clothes back. Maybe the expensive wedding dresses, but not these. These would go into Flash’s fabulous sample room to be sold for charity later.
Knox turned over his shoulder to grin at me. “He wants us to do it. It’s for the shoot.”
His confidence encouraged me. I gave up the resistance. “What are we waiting for, then?” I put on a burst of speed. I’ve always been fast.
We ran hand in cyborg hand headlong into the icy water, my real right hand clutched in his hand with its cyborg fingers as naturally as any couple. We ran, laughing and splashing as if it was the heart of summer.
The rocks in the shallow water were covered with moss and slime, slippery in the slow-running flow at shore’s edge. Knox was as surefooted as a mountain goat. My canvas sneakers helped some, but I had a hard time keeping up with him. Even though the water was only a few inches deep, I was cautious. My robotic arm wasn’t waterproof, and I didn’t have its watertight cover on over it. I couldn’t afford to slip and fall into the water. I couldn’t afford to do any of the other things a flirty girl would do—I couldn’t reach into the river and splash him. Not with both of us wearing expensive robotics.
Knox, hamming it up, suddenly pulled me into his arms, bent me over, put his left hand over my mouth, and pretended to kiss me.
I was barely aware of Peter’s exclamations. I was too startled. There was no use fighting Knox’s cyborg fingers or trying to unclamp them. Or licking them, or any of the other tricks I might use, short of kneeing him. Which was clearly off the table. I was enjoying myself too much. The only way to get him to uncurl them was to distract him. And the method for that was highly unprofessional.
Suddenly, Peter was right there in our faces with the camera. “Oh, that’s cheating, isn’t it? That’s not what our customers will want to see. Give her a real kiss, Knox. Put your heart into it. Sell the passion. Sell the fun spontaneity. This is your wedding day. This is the woman you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.”
I had a flash of reverse déjà vu—a feeling that what I was experiencing right now would be repeated in the future.
Knox’s eyebrows shot up. He grinned and removed his hand from my mouth. Before he could react, I tilted my head and went in for the kiss, intent on giving him a taste of his own medicine. I’d faked a lot of kisses on shoots. I knew what I was doing. I knew how to make it look real while feeling nothing and letting my mind wander. With devilish relish, like one getting revenge, I closed my eyes, sure I could handle myself like the pro I was.
But when my lips met his, my body, my emotions, and possibly even my soul betrayed me. His lips were warm and moist. He in no way resisted me. He even taunted me, keeping his tongue chastely in his mouth while I kept mine in mine. Even so, the pressure of his lips on mine was insistent and real. The way he caught the back of my head with his right hand and held my face to his seemed real enough, too. Worst of all, I felt the heat of his embrace all the way to my cold feet in the icy river. I was half surprised they weren’t steaming.
My breath caught. My heart raced. I was lost in the fantasy. Had I ever been kissed in the water? In a river in spring on a day as beautiful as this? I could picture kissing him, fully, passionately, for hours on end here, with the gentle breeze whispering its approval through the trees. With the river rushing by. And us losing complete sense of time.
It had been too long since my body had reacted like this to any man, certainly from just a kiss. Certainly never from a completely French-less kiss. I almost had to curl my tongue inward to resist the urge to tease him.
I almost completely forgot about Peter. I ignored Peter’s drone buzzing around to get aerial shots. Lost in my fantasy, I almost started when Peter said, “That’s a wrap for now.”
My eyes flew open, but Knox didn’t let go. Our gazes locked. His eyes were full of ardor. Reluctantly, it seemed, slowly for sure, he released me. I took a step back from him and tucked a strand of hair primly behind my ear.
Peter had waded into the water next to us. He slapped Knox on the back. “Fantastic work! You’re a natural. If you ever want to switch careers, consider modeling. That was a hell of an authentic kiss for the camera.”
Peter lowered his camera and directed the drone back to shore. “Nice bit of acting. That includes you, Callie. But we know you’re a pro.” He frowned. “Callie! Your teeth are chattering. Your lips are turning blue around the edges. Your lipstick needs to be touched up. Get back to shore and warm up, both of you. Half an hour for lunch and we’re back at it before we lose the light.”
>
Knox clucked his tongue. “Blue lips. I hope we don’t have to reshoot that scene.”
“Peter’s a whiz. He’ll fix them in postproduction.” I turned before Knox could see the effect he had on me. I spun around so quickly that I slipped.
Knox caught me again. “This is becoming a habit.” He took my elbow.
I shook it loose. “Thank you. I can manage myself.”
Could I? That was the question. Not whether I could walk through the few feet of slick river rock to shore, but whether I could maintain my professional composure for the rest of the shoot. Knox had cast some sort of spell on me.
10
Knox
You could ask me a lot of things. I’m an honest guy. I’d give you an honest answer. I could not tell you, however, what possessed me to show off to Callie. To grab her hand and pull her down the trail to the water. To pull her into the river.
I forgot, for a moment, that I was wearing an expensive piece of high-tech gadgetry on my hand that wasn’t waterproof. I was, for the moment, just me, the young me, the two-handed, completely fingered Knox who loved the water. The guy who waterskied, jet-skied, and boated. Anything to be out on the water. The guy who’d almost considered going into the Navy instead of the Army.
Not the guy who had to learn how to swim again with a left hand that wasn’t complete. Who had to plan ahead if he wanted to go in the water and take off his prosthesis. Worse, I’d forgotten that Callie had an even more expensive piece of electronics on her arm.
What had possessed me to tip her into a fake kiss? The sophomoric prank kind of kiss I used to pull on my female friends in junior high. Back then it was an immature type of flirting. The girls seemed to like it, even the ones who didn’t consider me more than a friend.
I followed Callie back to the shore, wet shoes squishing with every step. I caught up to her at the food tent and caught her arm from behind. She spun around to meet my eye. Damn, she was beautiful. Her skin was fine and smooth, her eyes round, and her lips slightly less blue around the edges of her lipstick.
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