Kissing Cousins

by Diana Tobin

  “You must be hungry. Let’s go make a late supper.” He pulled her to her feet, purposely banging his head on the ceiling. “Ouch.”

  Gusta reached up to rub his head. “Told you, you need to change rooms.”

  Unfortunately, he knew she didn’t mean for him to move in with her downstairs. “Think I’ll work on that tomorrow. I don’t need the headaches.” He grinned. “Soup or an omelet?” he asked as they headed for the kitchen.

  ♥•♥•♥

  “Where have you been?”

  Gus set down the grocery bags she’d carried in. “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, I can see you went shopping,” Web jammed his hands on his hips. “You could have left me a note, or waited for me to go with you.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” She turned around and headed back out the door.

  “Wh—Come back here!”

  Web followed her out the door only to have Gus tell him, “Get over here and help.” She shoved a couple of bags at him before grabbing the last two. “That ice cream needs to go in the freezer.”

  She marched back into the house.

  By the time Web got his wits about him, he found her putting items in the fridge.

  “Look, I was—”

  “Being a jerk. A control freak. Thinking I’d run off with the family treasures.” Gus continued emptying bags.

  “No. Maybe.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Damn.”

  She pushed him aside to empty the bags he’d carried in. “The greatest family treasure I’ve seen so far is this place,” she waved a hand to indicate the house, “won’t fit into my car, no matter how good I am at packing. Not to mention, I have nowhere else to go. This is the end of the line.”

  Unless she walked out into the lake and didn’t come back. She’d considered it the other day when she’d sat on the grassy bank. What was the point of her going on? She’d lost everything that mattered. But she was trying hard to find a reason to keep drawing breath…maybe, eventually, to learn to enjoy life again.

  Hope would be so disappointed with her if she gave up.

  “I got a—”

  “I’m sor—”

  They spoke at the same time.

  Gus turned, leaning against the counter at her back, and folded her arms in front of her. “Go on.”

  Web jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. His hair was damp and looked as if he’d combed it with his fingers. On him, it looked sexy.

  “Your car was gone when I got back and you didn’t leave a note. At least, I didn’t see one.”

  “Where did you go?” Let’s see how he liked being on the other end of the inquisition.

  He blinked at her. “My usual skate.”

  She stared at him. “You get up at the crack of dawn to go skating? Are you living your second childhood? Or, haven’t you emerged from the first one?”

  Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Gus felt her brows come together. “You’re Charles Webster.” She’d thought the guy was pretty nice, but maybe he was a wacko and the attorney hadn’t warned her, or hadn’t realized it. “The town was named after some relative of yours, so I’m going to take a guess that you know plenty of people around here.”

  “But you don’t know what I did.”

  What had he done? Did he habitually rip off little old ladies? A stalker? Oh, God! Was he a rapist who hadn’t been caught? Her hand went to her throat and Gus began to edge away from him.

  “A hockey fan like you never watched the Olympics?” Web’s smile slipped a bit as she moved away from him. “You don’t watch sports on TV?”

  Slowly, she shook her head, wondering what the Olympics had to do with his crimes. She’d stopped watching the Olympics, or any sports, after Steve made so many crude comments about how the athletes were dressed.

  “I’m—I was a speed skater. Have the medals to prove it.”

  Gus let out the breath she was holding. He was famous, not a mass murderer. “Was your picture on a cereal box?”

  His smile slipped away. “They only want gold medal winners for that.

  “I don’t remember seeing your medals.”

  “I have them, but…I don’t display them,” he muttered.

  Gus straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Why ever not! They don’t just hand them out like candy. You worked hard for those medals—sacrificed for years.”

  “How would you know all that? I thought you didn’t know who I am.”

  “I don’t. I didn’t.” Gus ran her fingers through the back of her hair, tugging slightly. “I haven’t watched the Olympics in years, but I used to. I’ve seen the documentaries and bios of the athletes and what it takes just to make it to the Olympics.” She let her arms fall to her sides. “You should be proud of your medals, and you should definitely have them on display.”

  He continued to study her so she turned back to the task of putting away groceries.

  “I am proud of my medals,” Web said at last. “Some people see only the medals, not the person, not the hard work.”

  “Some people are idiots,” Gus said. She began folding the empty bags. “There’s an ice rink around here?”

  “No, not yet. That’s something I’m working on.” He heaved out a breath. “Look, about this morning. I was worried when I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

  “You thought I had just walked away the same as everyone has accused my mother of doing.”

  Web opened his mouth then closed it. “That’s what I thought at first, but when I was looking for a note to tell me where you’d gone, I saw the box you said was Hope and knew you wouldn’t leave without it.”

  Had she told him the box contained Hope’s ashes? It didn’t matter, because he’d paid enough attention to know the box was important to her. Something her ex had never bothered with.

  “Where was your note telling me where you had gone?” She was determined to show Web she could come and go as she pleased, just as he did.

  He avoided her gaze. “I thought I’d be back before you even woke up. And,” he moved his shoulders in a shrug, “I wasn’t sure I was going to skate. Today was the first time in months.”

  “If there’s no ice rink here, how could you possible think you’d be back early? Come to think of it, how did you get back so early?”

  “I—didn’t skate on ice this morning.” Web moved away, going to a window and looking out at the lake. “During warmer months, I use inline skates for a workout.” He glanced over his shoulder once before turning his attention back to the window. “You know, for skating on the street.”

  “I know what inline skates are,” Gus said quietly. “I promised Hope…” She sniffed, then found a place to keep the bags she’d just folded. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not your concern. But, just to let you know, I got a job.”

  “Where?” Web turned from the window. “Doing what?”

  “Moose-ley Coffee. I’m the new barista. Or, will be—once I learn how to make all the drinks.”

  “You really want to go to work so soon?”

  “Why would I wait? This will be a good way for me to meet the locals and become part of the town.” Not to mention how much I need an income, and something to fill up the hours of my day. “To celebrate, I bought food.”

  She’d spent the last of her cash at the grocery store, but Web didn’t need to know that. Now that she had contributed to their supply, she wouldn’t feel so uneasy about helping herself to what they had on hand. Gus wasn’t looking for handouts, just a chance to be able to take care of herself.

  “I plan to grill steaks tonight, if you’re going to be around.” Gus didn’t look at Web; she didn’t want him to see how much it would mean to her to have someone to celebrate her new job.

  “Sounds good.” Web leaned his hips on the windowsill. “What can I contribute?”

  “An appetite. I got fresh corn, tomatoes, and a bottle of wine.” Gus knew little about wine
, despite all the vineyards in her home state, but it seemed a good idea for a celebration.

  “Let me see the wine,” Web said.

  “Because you’re an expert?” She wanted to scream in frustration. Were males naturally know-it-alls? Or, did she just come across as so dumb she couldn’t be trusted to buy a simple bottle of wine?

  Web chuckled. “I’m far from an expert, but I was thinking I could make sangria with it, depending on what we have for fruit.” He came closer, patting her on the shoulder. “Congrats on the job. Did you have some coffee while you were there?”

  “Yes, it seemed the thing to do.”

  “Maybe you need another cup.” When she frowned at him, he added with a grin, “You’re still a bit prickly.”

  She wanted to deny it, but he spoke the truth. Other than medical professionals, Gus hadn’t spent time with anyone other than her daughter, and habits from years past kept kicking in.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He placed a finger under her chin so she’d meet his gaze. “Don’t apologize for being yourself.” Web looked into her eyes for a long moment. “I’m not opposed to a good fight now and then, especially considering the benefits afterwards.” His eyebrows bobbed up and down teasingly.

  Gus felt her face heat thinking of what those benefits could be.

  Web dropped his hand and took a step back. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  “Now?” She looked out the window at the sparkling water of the lake.

  “Yes, now,” he said chuckling. “Next month, you’ll be wishing you could. Plus, we’ve both accomplished something today, so let’s have some fun. Go put on your suit and I’ll grab towels.” He pushed her toward her room.

  Gus thought about protesting. She should be working on a new knitting design. Or, she should be seeing what was available in the area for materials. Or, cleaning the house. Or, something useful. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a few hours to just do nothing and enjoy the day.

  She had promised Hope she would live life and enjoy it. Now was the time to start.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The water was cold, but Gus found it refreshing once she began swimming. She couldn’t match Web’s powerful strokes, yet she had little trouble keeping up with him. Or, rather, he hadn’t gone off and left her alone, until she pleaded fatigue and explored the shallows.

  Now, they were lying on a nearby dock she hadn’t realized belonged to them. The sun was hot on her cool skin, quickly drying her old one-piece blue swim suit.

  “Too bad we don’t have access to a boat, since we have a dock.”

  “We do,” Web murmured.

  “We do?”

  “Yeah. The boat’s in the garage.” He glanced over at her. “Guess we forgot that in our tour.” He threw an arm over his eyes. “I never got it out. I wanted to take Emma for a ride, but when the weather was nice, she wasn’t up to it.” His voice thickened. “Then, it was too late.”

  “I’d probably get seasick.”

  Web sat up, the sun glinting on his hair, making the copper locks shine. “Not much of a sailor, huh?”

  She tried to keep from staring at his muscled chest and flat abdomen. “I have no idea. I’ve never been on a boat.” She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was protecting them from the sun, when actually, she was protecting her awakening libido from the burnished strands of hair covering Web’s chest. “No, wait.” Her eyes popped open and she sat up. “That’s a lie. I’m not the one who gets seasick. It was my ex—” If her ex didn’t like something, he made sure she didn’t either. “When I was a kid my parents took me on a Hellgate trip.”

  Web rested an arm on his raised knee, blocking her view of most of his body, but the back of him was just fine. “Hellgate doesn’t sound like a placid cruise around the lake.”

  Gus laughed. “Hellgate Canyon is on the Rogue River. During the summer, you can take jet boat trips for dinner or brunch. The boats are fairly flat because the depth of the river can go from inches to unfathomable depths.” She was waving her hands around as she talked. “We left from Grants Pass and went downriver, seeing wildlife along the way. Dinner was served family-style out under a covered area. The trip was even more fun on the way back, since the drivers do three-sixties,” she twirled her fingers, demonstrating, “getting the passengers soaked along with the other jet boats.”

  “Did you get sick?”

  “Nope. Not even on a full stomach.” She smiled at the memory. “It was great.” Gus met his gaze. “You should try it sometime.”

  He grinned back at her. “Maybe I will.” He looked out over the lake. “If the weather holds, we’ll take the boat out so you can see the rest of the lake.”

  “Sounds good.” She fiddled with the edge of the towel she sat on. “I’m going to marinate the steaks and get dinner together. Thanks for the swim.”

  Web watched her rise and pick up the towel, slip her feet into the flip flops she’d worn down to the shore. “My pleasure. I’ll—be up in a minute to help.”

  Gus glanced back at him. “No hurry.”

  ♥•♥•♥

  He watched her cross the expanse of grass to the house as she wrapped the towel around her waist, hiding his view of her swaying hips. The Hellgate trip had been a good memory for her, and he didn’t miss the fact it was before she’d met her ex-husband. Seeing and hearing her excitement had certainly stirred him up. She should always be that happy.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Web rose from the dock and jumped into the cool water. Within a few minutes he was able to walk out of the lake without embarrassing himself…or Gusta.

  ♥•♥•♥

  After showering, Gus threw on her cutoffs and a tank top. Her only makeup was lip gloss and the lotion she’d applied head to toe. She headed for the kitchen to start dinner and found Web in the room.

  Would it kill the man to put on a shirt? Not that she didn’t like the view of his half-naked body, it just made it more difficult to think of him as only a friend when she was lusting after him. She hadn’t lusted after a man since…Never, she realized, with a jolt.

  “Huh!”

  “What did you say?” Web glanced up from the fruit he was cutting.

  “I—I didn’t say anything.” She pulled the steaks from the fridge, found a pan for them, and prepared the marinade. “Is that for the sangria?”

  “Mm-hm.” He glanced over at her. “You okay with that?”

  “Sure, it sounds good.” She got out corn, zucchini, and a dish of fresh mozzarella.

  “I’ll start the grill,” Web offered.

  “Thanks. Let’s eat out on the porch, okay?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice.” Web went out through the French doors in the dining room, flipping on the two fans installed in the porch ceiling. Once he got the grill started, he brought out jars of citronella candles from the garage, placing them on the porch railing and lighting them. Between the fans and candles, their dinner would be bug- and insect-free.

  “Gusta?” Web went back in the kitchen. “Mind if I get a couple of your scrapbooks?”

  She stopped what she was doing to look at him. “I thought you looked at them yesterday.”

  He shook his head. “Just the one. Not that I mind your input, but I like how I can look at them and know what was happening.” What he liked was the insight to her life before she’d come to Maine.

  “All right,” she agreed.

  By the time Web got back out to the porch, Gusta had covered the small table with a cloth and laid out plates and silverware. She returned a few minutes later with a tray holding the pitcher of sangria, glasses, and a platter with sliced tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, and a light swirl of olive oil.

  “Help yourself,” she told Web. “Be right back with the rest of the meal.”

  He poured them each a glass of wine, but stayed seated, flipping through Gusta’s scrapbook.

  She came back out and placed her loaded tray on the sideboard of the grill. The steaks sizz
led as she placed them on the heated surface, then followed with corn wrapped in their husks and slabs of zucchini.

  “How do you like your meat?” Gus asked, then could’ve kicked herself for her phrasing. If he answered crudely, as her ex would have, she would dump the pitcher of sangria on his head.

  “Medium well, please,” he said absently as he continued looking at the scrapbook.

  Gus wanted to kiss him for being an adult with his answer. “The sangria is good.”

  “Mmm. When did you cut your hair?”

  She turned the vegetables on the grill. “Three years ago. You’ll see in the next book I did more than cut it.” She ran her fingers through her short locks, a bit surprised at how much her hair had grown, and met Web’s gaze. “Hope was losing her hair, so I shaved my head. I stopped a few months ago because she asked me to let it grow back.”

  Web’s smile was a bit sad. “You were a good mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  He sipped his drink. “What did your husband think of your shaved head?”

  Gus turned back to the grill. “He never saw it.”

  “What do you mean, ‘he never saw it’?” A muscle in Web’s jaw jumped as though he’d clenched his teeth. “Were you embarrassed to have him see you without your beautiful hair?”

  “We hadn’t seen him in years; especially once I had to take Hope up to Portland for treatment.” She put the corn on the platter, added the zucchini, then placed the platter on the table. “We’re ready. Let’s enjoy our meal.” She looked at Web silently pleading not to continue the conversation about her ex-husband.

  “It smells great,” he said, placing the scrapbook on a chair away from the table. “And, looks even better.” He turned to the table, serving Gus before placing vegetables on his own plate. “These tomatoes are good. Emma always had a garden and wanted me to start it for her this year, which I did, but towards the end, I let the weeds take over and ended up tilling everything under.” He glanced up at Gus. “Sorry.”