by Cait Jarrod
“Sure do,” he said, liking how she distracted him from his worries. “It’s right here.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the tip of his forefinger.
Silence. A long moment passed. Afraid his joke didn’t work and would backfire, he tried to recall a funny story from the book he kept on his nightstand. His memory failed. He couldn’t draw on any of the tales he usually dumped on his friends.
She let out an odd noise. The corners of her lips twitched and a full out laugh exploded. A sound so striking, he lost his footing and braced a foot behind him to regain balance. Darn, if something odd didn’t hitch inside him. Weird. And scary!
She plopped on the bank where he’d sat and flung a rock across the water.
Six hops! Admiration filled him. “Wow, you’re pretty good.”
“Thank you. I’ve had lots of practice. I’m the best.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Skipping a rock six times on the first throw put her on his awesome list, yet he wouldn’t concede to her being the best. “Let me try.”
“Try?” She laughed. “Please, you’re a guy. You’ve been out here in your Sunday best for hours practicing. I bet you’ll skip the rock across the river.”
Matt’s chest swelled. He’d sure like to carry out what she said. “I’ve never done it.”
“You will today.”
Long, flowing hair, more the color of the setting sun than a blazing red, danced around her shoulders. She smiled, and her eyes twinkled.
He tapped the pad of his finger on her perky nose. “I like the way you think.”
“I’m glad someone does,” she said on a half giggle and sniffles.
An awkward quietness ensued. He didn’t know whether to pat her on the back or run.
“Let’s see what you got,” she teased, removing the thick-aired tension.
He pulled his arm back, ready to impress the girl—where’d that come from?—and slung.
Two hops. He dropped his chin. “It’s not my day.”
“Well…” She picked up a rock and stood. “For one, you didn’t hold your mouth right.” She stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth. “And, you didn’t angle your shoulder in the direction you wanted it to go.” She twisted her body, her hair bouncing around her neck, making all kinds of unusual fantasies pop into his mind. “Then sling it.”
She slanted her head, reared her elbow back, and rolled her wrist. The rock leapt from her hand and skipped the water’s surface.
Eight hops. Envy hit him square between the eyes. “Amazing!”
“Your turn.” She jerked her head around, searching the ground. “I’ll find you a rock.”
He grabbed a stick and jabbed it into the dirt. Getting beat by a girl. What has this day come to?
“There’s a pile of them.” She pointed to the edge of the water to the pebbles he wouldn’t touch because reaching for them would put his life in danger. With no branches to use as a safety line, one misstep could end deadly.
Again she topped him, not letting the risk scare her off.
What if she didn’t know about the river’s threat? Didn’t know about the instability of a river’s edge? The ground could give when you least expected. Worse, the changing undertow played tricks, gentle as a kitten one minute, rough as a lion the next. “You shouldn’t—”
Her body tipped forward. A blood-curling scream blasted the air.
Matt froze a beat before a sudden burst of energy blasted him to his feet. He toed off his shoes, bolted past the no swimming signs, and leapt into the roiling, lukewarm water.
The girl’s arms flailed to the surface. “Help!” She sputtered as the tendrils of death jerked her out of sight.
Terror shot him toward the water. “No!”
Rocky gorges on the river’s floor, mixed with the churning water, posed another threat, but he had no option. He dove under, swam in the direction she disappeared, and ignored the fear neither of them would resurface.
Particles of dirt pricked his eyes. He entered the concentrated whirlwind, the river’s wrath. A hard object smacked him with as much force as a branch falling. He thrashed a hand forward, hoping and praying he’d find her. The current grabbed at his arms and legs like hungry hands greedy for food.
Kicking and shoving at the water weakened his resolve. If he went down with the current, lord help him, he didn’t care. But he didn’t want anything to happen to the girl.
He dug deep on an adrenaline rush, ignored his screaming lungs, and stretched a hand into the darkness. Slight pressure thumped his arm.
Her hand!
With his insides vibrating, he gripped onto her arm and tugged. She came easily, a lot easier and lighter than he expected. Securing his hold, he kicked to the surface and gasped for air. A piercing sound escaped him, filling his eardrums as he brought her above water.
“I gotcha ya. You’re gonna be okay,” he said between heavy pants, to soothe her as much as to calm his jittery nerves.
With an arm wrapped under each of her armpits, he swam on his back to the shore. He didn’t know her, didn’t know where she lived, and didn’t know what had scared her when she ran to the river.
What if she couldn’t tell him? What if he never discovered anything more? He stopped his wandering thoughts from diving down the black hole of doom and shoved aside the shock that he wanted to learn so much.
Close to shore, his feet bumped the murky soil of the river’s floor. He straightened. With a hand under her butt, the other under her neck, he curled her into him. Her head fell backwards, an arm dangled at her side. Purplish-pink lips stood out against her pale skin. He hustled up a small slope and laid her on a patch of grass.
He saved her! His heart leapt!
But she didn’t move. A lasso sensation tightened his chest and his stomach clenched. “Miss,” he said, staying on his knees beside her. He pressed two fingers to her neck, as he’d seen Travis do for a neighbor who’d passed out.
The beat was steady, strong.
He pressed his palms between her breastbone, pumped his hands twice the way he’d learned CPR during gym class, and examined her off-colored lips. The deep pink lightened. He swallowed and did it again. Still, she didn’t move.
With a hand under her neck, he lifted her chin, pinched her nose with his free hand, and covered her mouth with his. He blew a puff of air and did it again.
Her chest rose.
After two more palm-pumps to her breastbone, he covered her mouth with his and blew.
She coughed and squirmed, her breathing raspy, but she was alive.
Tension fled his body and emotion filled him. Covering his face with his hands, he sat on his folded legs and sucked in a slow breath.
His palms grew damp. His body stunk, not from the water but from the cold sweat breaking out across his skin. Adrenaline had shot him into action, and he’d found strength beyond his capacity to save her. The rush left in waves, leaving him fatigued. An overabundance of emotions that didn’t make sense filled him. He didn’t know whether to run, hit something, or cry. Then one which didn’t make sense—he wanted to pull her into his arms.
With a long-suffering sigh, he peeked between his fingers at the girl.
She rubbed her hands over her nose and mouth and stopped coughing. “Thank you,” she whispered so softly he leaned closer to hear.
“You’re okay,” he said and bobbed his head. His muscles twitched from the aftereffects.
“I could have died,” she blubbered.
She could have. If he didn’t take the plunge, she more than likely would have. The realization knocked the air plum out of him. “Yes, but you didn’t.”
“You saved me.” Her words grew more rushed with each syllable. “Thank you!”
He recognized her longing expression as she rose into a sitting position. The one saying she would pay him with more than a “thanks.” His mother held the same mien a second before she kissed his father. His mouth went dry and his pulse escalated, but he didn’
t budge. Keeping his gaze, her lips touched his, soft as a rose petal. An odd appreciation boomeranged through him. As soon as the feeling began, she retreated, and it ended.
Not sure if she wanted him to kiss her or not, he did what any idiot guy would do. He stared at her stretched on the ground. She was beautiful. Her hair fanned around her shoulders. A few strands lay across her face.
A powerful draw gave him a sense she needed him, not like his mother, father, or even his brother had, but needed him for him. The impact calmed and reassured him that his life would be okay.
This time when he decided to touch her, he didn’t change his mind. He pushed the hair from her cheek and braced his hands on either side of her head. For a long moment, he hovered, holding his upper body off her. In his favorite spot, on one of the worst days in his life, hope reflected out of the field of green in her eyes. For a second time, something hitched inside him.
The interaction was monumental, but he didn’t know why.
Rain dropped on his head, on her face, a typical summer shower. He didn’t move, didn’t try to escape, didn’t want shelter, not from the weather and not from the pull she had on him.
She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his.
His body reacted in an odd way he hadn’t experienced. He stretched out on top of her, felt the curves of a girl’s body against his, and kissed her. He didn’t know if he did it right or not, he only knew he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the hell out of it.
Lightning cracked, a bright light flashed, and he eased back.
“I always wanted to do that,” she said.
What she said confused him. They’d never met, so how did she know she wanted to? “Kiss me?”
She giggled. “No silly. Kiss a boy.”
That stung. The kiss had nothing to do with him, but more with him being at the right place, at the right time. “Well, I’m glad I could be of help again.” He rolled to the ground and stood, kicking himself for being so vulnerable and acting weak.
“Let me walk you home.” He held out his hand, assisted her to her feet, slipped his muddy shoes on, and stuck his tie in his jacket pocket.
The rain cooled the air and pebbled her skin. He gathered his semi-moist suit jacket, shook it off, and arched a questioning eyebrow. On her nod, he placed it around her shoulders and rested a hand on her back as he guided her toward the woods.
Strange, he didn’t want to move his hand. No, he wished to touch her with both, along with his body, and feel every inch of her against him.
They buzzed around branches and sticker vines to the road. The rain tapered and the sun fought for exposure.
“I’m sorry,” she said at the same time he asked, “Where do you live?”
“Not far. Take a right at the intersection.” She pointed in the opposite direction from which he came. “You don’t have to walk with me. I can find my way.” Her voice had a tinge of sadness to it.
He didn’t let the verbal gut punch that she would have kissed any boy, or her dejected tone prevent him from doing the right thing. “I know.”
They reached the crossroads. She placed a hand on his elbow and tugged him to stop. “I didn’t mean to say what I did.”
Matt didn’t want to talk about it. It happened. She stirred his body, and now he focused on getting rid of the awkwardness between his legs. Talking about the kiss would make his situation worse. “No worries,” he said and progressed in the direction of her house.
He glanced at her hand on his arm, liked it far more than he wanted to admit or understood. “What?” He couldn’t stop his rough, curt tone.
“When I said I always wanted to kiss a boy, I meant…I didn’t know when that day would come. If some other boy had been at the river today, I wouldn’t have had my first kiss.”
“It took a few hundred yards to think of an excuse?” Damn, he kicked himself for being such an ass.
She released his arm.
Good, back to concentrating on losing the never-ending hard-on.
“No.” She linked her fingers with his.
He liked how it felt. Dammit!
“My name is Katrina Lovett.” She paused as if it meant something to him.
“Mine’s Matt Carson.”
She nodded. “I know.”
It bothered him when someone knew more about him than he was aware of. “How?”
“The TV. I’m sorry about what happened to your mom. The accident…” She bit her lip and darted her attention to the street.
Now he understood why she’d stared earlier. “Is it the reason you kissed me? Out of pity?”
The lip she’d bitten sparkled with moisture. “No. I wanted to.”
They walked in silence for a ways. She tightened her grasp on his hand and fidgeted, as if she would say or ask a doozy of question. “Will you tell me about your parents? The news said your dad died a few years ago.”
He hadn’t talked about his dad in a long time, and didn’t want to talk about his mom, either. Yet being with Katrina, he slipped into an unusual comfort zone. “Great. Dad and Mom were awesome.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
By the time they approached her home, he’d confided in her about the crow’s foot wreaths, his dad taking Travis and him fishing, even about their first family dog. The words flowed easily.
“I like you,” she said. “I’m too young for a boyfriend. My parents would have a cow if they found out.”
Fuzzy tingles covered his entire body. “I like you, too. Why would your parents have a cow? It’s not like we can go out.”
“We meet at the river.” Her infectious smile spread across her face and jerked the hardened area between his legs. “At our spot.”
He’d like the idea a lot! “How old are you?”
“Fourteen. You?”
An older girl. “Thirteen.”
“I’m a cougar!” She laughed.
Matt wouldn’t argue that more years needed to exist between them before she earned the title. Whatever floated her boat. He liked seeing her happy, unlike when she first appeared near the river. “What upset you earlier?”
“Oh, that. My parents.” She toed her shoe against the damp sidewalk. “They try to run my life. No one is good enough, not even my best friend. Cadence’s dad is almost as rich as mine. To them wealth makes a person nobler, not to me. They want me to become a doctor, marry a doctor, everything doctor. I’m sick of it.”
His parents, the complete opposite of hers, had supported his interests. “What do you want to do?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t.”
“I want a nursery, but not any garden nursery.” With each word, her animated hands flew as if what she said meant nothing without them. “I want flowers and animals, a petting zoo for kids.”
Her excited tone intrigued him. He wanted her to have these things. “Neat.”
“Yeah.” She shoulder bumped him, and they quickened their pace. “Thanks, even though you don’t mean it.”
He liked animals and had enjoyed planting a garden with his family every spring. “You’re wrong.”
“Really?” She grinned. “Okay, how about you? What do you want to be?”
Easy. He wanted to be a firefighter, but he would follow his dad’s example. Maybe then, he would have some measure of peace and feel closer to his dad. Maybe then, he’d feel whole again. “A sniper.”
Expecting she would approve of his decision, he waited for her validation. When she didn’t, caution rained over him, and he squeezed her hand before she pulled away. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I don’t mean criminally. I want to help Marines. It isn’t fair the men on the ground get ambushed by a person hiding in the woods.” The way someone opened fire on another person in cold blood grated on his nerves. He didn’t want to shoot someone for the sake of killing. He wanted to save lives.
“Isn’t that what you’d be doing?”
Her opinion of what he wanted to do shouldn’t matter, but
he explained anyway. “No. Being a military sniper doesn’t make you a murderer. It’s doing a job. There’s a big difference. I’d do it to protect people, save lives.”
“You are a warrior.”
She was so close. If he turned his head, he’d brush a kiss on her lips. “I don’t know.”
“I do. You saved me. I won’t ever forget.”
He wouldn’t forget either. This day would stay with him for a long time.
“But you know, with you in the military and me doctoring, we’ll never see one another.”
“That’s five years in the future. You sound as if we’ll know each other then.”
“We will. Mark my words, Matt Carson, we will.”
She sounded so sure. He squeezed her hand and felt comfort, excitement. Yeah, he liked touching her too much. To distract his thoughts, he said, “What’s with this doctor stuff? You want to own a petting zoo, a nursery.”
“I do.” She scrunched her nose, and he wanted to kiss it. “I doubt Dad will let me.”
What parent can force their kid into a career they decide for them? “Who’s your dad?”
“He owns a bunch of horses.” Her voice came out gruff.
In this part of Maryland, some horse owners liked to boast and behave as if others with less money weren’t their equals. She didn’t. She downplayed it. He didn’t have firsthand experience, but his friends from school talked about it. Said when rich people believed you’re beneath them, they’d hold their heads a certain way. Noses in the air, shoulders back as if they walked with a book on the top of their head. Her reluctance not to tell him spoke volumes about her integrity. Dad often said, “If you don’t have integrity, you don’t have much.” He spoke without thinking about the implications.
She didn’t respond.
“Sorry they control you,” he said, not knowing what else to say into the awkwardness.
“One day they won’t.” She slowed. “Um, speaking of them, there’s a good chance they won’t treat you well.”
“Because I resemble a drowned rat?” He held her hand tight and opened his arms to his side.
“No matter what is about to happen, we will always be friends.”