“Your dad didn’t leave because of you and Scarlett, Tara,” Reid said.
“I know. But something happened before he left... “ She drew her knees to her chest and looped her arms around them, needing the comfort as she gathered her courage. Then, her gaze fixed on the red and black plaid of the picnic blanket, she told him what she’d never told anyone else. “I came home from school early one day. I had a dentist appointment, and I was supposed to meet Mom at home and she was going to drive me to Dr. Cassidy’s. She wasn’t home when I got there, though. Dad was. And he was with someone. I could hear them when I let myself in, and I found them in the kitchen, kissing, half-undressed.”
She had to stop then, the old memory so powerful she felt physically ill. Reid shifted, turning to face her, reaching out to wrap his hand around her ankle. His touch was so reassuring, so grounding and safe, and she lifted her gaze from the blanket briefly to look at him.
His expression was patiently solemn as he waited for more.
“He told me it was a mistake,” she said. “Told me it would never happen again. He cried... I’d never seen him like that. He made me promise that I would never tell anyone. He said he’d make it up to Mom, to me, to all of us. And I believed him.”
She saw comprehension dawn in Reid’s eyes.
“How long was it until he left?” he asked, his voice gravelly with what she suspected was anger.
And why not? It was an angry-making story. Her father had behaved appallingly. Weakly. Shamefully.
“A month. Just long enough for him to arrange things to suit himself. Take money from the mortgage, sort out a new place to live. Then we came home from school one day and he was gone and Mom was... broken.”
And Tammy Buck had never recovered, and Tara has spent the last thirteen years wondering what might have happened if she’d said something about what she’d seen, instead of honoring her promise to her father.
“Your father is an asshole.”
Trust Reid to put it so bluntly.
“Yeah, he is. But we all loved him like crazy when he was around. Then he just faded out of our lives, skipping visitation weekends, putting us off until it became clear that he’d rather forget he had us than face up to his own guilt. We haven’t heard from him in ten years.”
His hand tightened around her ankle. She took a deep breath, determined to get it all out.
“Anyway. Like I said, I did my best to make it up to Mom for not telling her about that day. To make things okay. But I always felt as though there was something I should have done. Warned Mom. Something. That’s why I always drop everything when she needs me. Why I can’t say no to her or Scarlett.”
“Jesus, Tara. It wasn’t your fault. You must know that.”
“I do. It took a while, but I worked out that I was carrying around my dad’s guilt for him, and that it wasn’t my burden to bear. I actually thought I was on top of it, which is pretty hilarious in retrospect. It took everything blowing up with Simon for me to realize that I’d been working so hard trying to avoid my mother’s fate that I’d almost married a man I didn’t love.”
Reid’s hand tightened around her ankle again, and she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes.
He looked... shaken. And also a little confused. She smiled ruefully. Apparently she’d done such a great job of convincing herself she loved Simon that she’d convinced the world, too.
“You look like Scarlett did when I told her. She actually argued with me. Tried to convince me I was wrong, that I was mad about him,” she said.
“I thought you were. When he asked you to marry him... you were happy.”
His gaze searched her face as he tried to understand.
“I was happy. He was safe, right? He wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t some outgoing, foot-loose, fancy-free raconteur like my father. He was a history teacher.”
She almost laughed at her own naivety and stupidity.
“So you’re not...?”
“Heartbroken? No. I’m hurt. He betrayed my trust. I feel stupid, humiliated. But my heart is fine.”
There was a profound silence as they looked at one another.
“That’s good. I mean, the rest of it isn’t, but that part is good.” His hand slipped free from her ankle, releasing her.
“Yeah. And that stuff at work last week? My Incredible Hulk impersonation? That was me starting to realize how badly I’d almost messed up my life.”
Reid nodded, processing. “I can see that.”
“I made myself a promise when I worked all this out the other night. No more playing it safe.”
“Right. Which brings us back to the motorbike.”
“Yep.”
He looked out at the lake, clearly chewing something over. “Promise me you’ll be careful on the damned thing, okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Dalton.”
He shook his head at her.
“Such a smart ass,” he said.
“Thanks. I’ve been taking lessons from this guy I know.”
“Sweetheart, that attitude is all yours, and you know it.”
They were both smiling, and something shifted between them. Suddenly she was very aware of how little they were both wearing, and the fact that they were utterly alone. Reid’s smile faded and he looked out at the lake again, a frown on his face.
“I might see if I can catch up on a little sleep,” she said, settling back onto the blanket. “All that cider and food has made me sleepy.”
“Good idea.”
She settled back onto her towel pillow, and this time she fell into a true drowse, warmed by the sun and Reid’s concern.
He cared about her. He might be leaving soon, but he cared about her.
She had no idea how long she dozed, but gradually she came back to consciousness. When she opened her eyes, Reid was standing beside the blanket, stretching his arms high over his head, his skin burnished by the sun. She blinked as she gazed up at six-foot-two of rock-solid muscle.
It was almost enough to make you believe in the gods of Olympus, it really was.
“You up for another go?” Reid asked when he realized she was awake.
“Sure am.”
She stood, and together they walked down to the water’s edge. She felt like an old pro as she pushed her board out to knee-deep water. Reid followed suit, and they both paddled out into deeper water before standing.
“Come check out the other side of the lake,” Reid said, pointing with his paddle.
His strokes were longer and more powerful than hers, but she did her best to keep up, carefully rationing the number of times she allowed herself to admire his back and butt along the way.
She was only flesh and blood, after all.
When they got to the other side, he pointed out some wildflowers that had sprouted in a fallen log, and they drifted along the edge of the lake, talking and laughing. The sun moved across the sky as they did a slow tour, waving to two hikers and their dog on the far side of the lake, stopping to watch a deer that was grazing in the dappled light beneath the trees.
She was the one who suggested a race, taking shameless advantage by taking off at a fast clip before Reid could turn his board around. It didn’t take long for him to start gaining on her and Tara pushed her oar deep with each stroke, willing her board across the water. She wasn’t sure what happened—whether she hit something and the board jostled, or if she’d simply rocked herself off balance putting so much effort into her paddling, but one second she was laughing gleefully over the fact that she was somehow maintaining her lead, and the next the board seemed to slide sideways out from beneath her feet and she was teetering over the water.
She let out a cry of despair.
And then she was in the water, and it was every bit as icy as she knew it would be as she flailed her way to the surface.
The first thing she heard when she came up for air was the sound of Reid’s laughter, deep and masculine, echoing off the water.
Kicking her feet, she stre
tched out a hand for her board before using her free hand to push the hair out of her eyes.
“Nice. Thanks for the empathy, Sir Galahad,” she said.
“How’s the water?”
“Delightful.”
He laughed again. She gave him a disgruntled look before dragging herself across the board and shuffling around until she was lying lengthwise on the damned thing, fully aware that she probably looked about as gracious and graceful as a beached sea cow while doing all of the above.
Finally she was on her feet again, flipping her dripping hair over her shoulder. Her T-shirt clung to her like glue, and she took a moment to make sure her bathing suit was covering everything it should be.
“So, want to make it the best out of three?” Reid asked, his expression deceptively innocent.
“Absolutely.”
“And maybe we could both start at the same time this time?” he suggested, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry?” she said.
His smile was knowing as he paddled his board alongside hers.
“On three,” he said. “First to the big boulder. One, two, three.”
She waited until he had his blade deep in the water midway through his first stroke before reaching across with her paddle and prodding him firmly in the ass. His head snapped around, an expression of comic outrage on his face, but it was too late, he was already off balance.
She grinned as he hit the water with an almighty splash. Her amusement faded when Reid didn’t surface immediately, and she leaned forward to peer into the water. His board was in the way, however, and the water was too murky at this depth.
“Reid?” she called out, panic hitting her. What if he’d hit his head on his board on the way down and she hadn’t noticed, or there was a submerged log he’d gotten caught on.. .?
She was about to throw her paddle aside and dive in when her board tilted ever-so-slightly to the rear. She glanced over her shoulder to see Reid gripping the tail, a fiendishly evil grin on his face.
“No.”
“I’m afraid so, cupcake.”
He pushed down, the board went up, and she went in, arms flailing. He was laughing once again when she resurfaced.
“Okay. I may have deserved that,” she conceded.
“You think?”
This time around she didn’t have the benefit of sun-warmed skin to keep her warm and she could feel the chill seeping into her limbs.
“Maybe we should call a truce before we both turn into icicles,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan.” He swam toward her, offering her his hand.
She eyed it mistrustfully.
“What’s wrong? You think I’m going to dunk you?” he asked, looking as mischievous as a little boy.
“I know you are, so don’t play all innocent with me.”
He took her hand anyway, but the smile quickly left his mouth as he grasped it.
“You’re freezing.”
“Amazing powers of perception you have there.”
“Get back on your board,” he ordered, his eyebrows knitting into a frown.
“What a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
She reached for her board, once again bellying her way onto it and shuffling around until she was lengthwise rather than across it. Reid, she noted sourly, managed to somehow almost vault out of the water onto his, the big showoff.
She stayed on her knees when she was done, shivering as the wind hit her already cold skin.
“Let’s head for shore,” Reid said. “We should probably think about going home, anyway.”
He wasn’t going to get any argument from her. Suddenly the jeans and sweater she’d left in the truck seemed like her idea of heaven.
She stayed on her knees as she paddled back to shore, slipping off in the shallows and dragging the board up onto the bank. Her towel was warm from the sun when she wrapped it around her shoulders and buried her face in it, inhaling the smell of warm terrycloth and detergent.
“Oh, that is so nice.”
“You should take that wet T-shirt off,” Reid said.
She lifted her face from the warmth of the towel to find him standing there dripping all over the blanket.
“Probably a good idea,” she conceded.
She let her towel drop, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and dragging it up her body. It wasn’t until she let it slip to the ground that she glanced down and realized her nipples were hard from the cold, creating two very noticeable points in her aqua blue bikini top. She bent down to collect the towel, carefully tucking it around her torso and securing the end beneath her armpit before looking at Reid.
He was busy toweling himself off, and she told herself he probably hadn’t even noticed. Anyway, she was cold. Nipples did the sticking-out thing when people were cold. His were a little puckered, too, she noticed.
Then he glanced across and caught her checking out his nipples and heat rocketed up her chest and into her face.
“I should take the cooler up to the car,” she said, turning away to go fetch her sneakers.
She made sure her feet were thoroughly dry before pulling on her socks and shoes, the small task giving her ample opportunity to avoid looking at Reid. Then she grabbed the cooler and lugged it up the slope. Reid passed her on the way back down, one of the boards under his arm.
“Leave the other board for me,” he ordered before continuing up the bank.
She considered disobeying him, but she was fully aware that going up the slope was going to be a lot harder than coming down, and the board was big and cumbersome. Instead, she folded the picnic blanket and collected her wet T-shirt and Reid’s tank top and headed for the car.
“Good girl,” Reid said when he saw she’d listened to him.
“Don’t push your luck.”
He was smiling as he walked down the hill.
She collected her clothes from the front seat, then glanced around, trying to work out where she could change. There were plenty of pine trees, but not much underbrush, and none of the tree trunks were wide enough to act as a makeshift screen.
Reid appeared, slinging the board into the bed of the truck.
“You take one side, I take the other, and we both pretend we’re gentlemen,” he said, somehow reading her mind.
“That’s going to be a stretch for one of us,” she said.
He laughed. “I surely do hope so.”
She realized what she’d said then, and couldn’t help laughing, too. He moved to the other side of the truck, and she turned her back and pulled her underwear from the backpack. She tried to keep the towel tucked beneath her armpits as she shimmied out of her wet swimsuit, but it kept slipping and in the end she let it drop in the interests of simply getting her underwear on sooner rather than later. The warm cotton felt better than silk against her skin, and soon she was pulling on her jeans and sweater.
“That feels better,” she said.
“Does that mean you’re decent?”
“No, I’m standing here in my birthday suit, dancing a jig.”
“I’ve never seen you dance.”
Reid walked around the front of the truck, his eyes alight with amusement. She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to his chest. Now that she knew what was beneath his clothes, she would probably never be truly comfortable in his presence again.
A rather alarming thought, given they worked with each other.
Not for long, remember? He’s heading to Chicago soon.
He was. And if it wasn’t Chicago, it would be somewhere else. So maybe it was okay for her to let herself admire him in his hip- and thigh-hugging jeans that were faded in all the right places.
“Your nose is a little pink,” he said.
“That’ll happen.”
He grabbed her backpack and stowed it in the back of the truck while she liberated a couple of apples from the cooler, tossing one to him when he’d finished. They were both biting into crisp sweetness as he began the bone-jangling trip back to the freewa
y.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“You can.”
“That stuff about your dad... have you ever talked to your mom or sister about that?”
“No. And I don’t plan to.” She frowned at him, not sure what he was thinking. Her mom would hate her if she found out what had happened that afternoon. Tara knew it with every bone in her body. Tammy Buck would work on that single piece of information in her mind until she’d turned it into a missed opportunity, and Tara didn’t want to upset her when her mother was already grappling to come to terms with her Parkinson’s disease.
“Your decision. It just occurred to me that it might be good to talk it over with your sister. Scare a few ghosts out of the closet.”
“That ghost is an old one. I’m happy to leave it where it is, thanks.”
“Like I said, your call.”
She made an effort to shift the conversation then, asking him about his second job interview in Chicago and ragging on him about wearing a suit.
“I can’t imagine you all gussied up,” she said.
“Like a bear in a tuxedo, you think?”
“Yeah. Exactly like that.”
“I have it on good authority that I scrub up okay.”
“Pretty sure your mom doesn’t count, Reid.”
That earned her a smile.
“I have other people willing to vouch for me.”
“I bet.”
They stopped for dinner in Livingstone on the way through, both of them having worked up an appetite, and they rolled into Marietta just as dusk began to blur the world and the street lights were flickering on.
Tara felt an odd sense of disappointment as Reid turned into her driveway and cruised toward her townhouse. It had been such a great day, she’d felt so good, enjoyed Reid so much...
She didn’t want it to end.
The knowledge burned in her belly as he came to a halt in front of her single-car garage, slipping the car into neutral.
“Fair warning, you might have sore legs and feet tomorrow from all the work counterbalancing on the board,” he said.
“Noted. I’ll be sure to remember you fondly as I hobble around.”
“You do that.”
She twisted to face him, her gaze going over his mussed hair and his beard-shadowed cheeks. He’d given her a much-needed circuit break today, taking her away from all the crap she’d been marinating in and blowing fresh air into her head. He’d also listened and let her vent without judging or trying to solve anything.
Almost A Bride (Montana Born Brides) Page 9