Sunset Flare

by Shannyn Leah

  “Do you really want to know?”

  No, he didn’t. “Have you been drinking, again?”

  “Ugh!” She groaned and bent back down, gripping the canoe’s edge and shoving with all her might. The wood frame didn’t even budge an inch. He’d guess the bags loaded in the centre of it was causing her consternation.

  “Running away?”

  She huffed and straightened, flinging a piece of hair away from her face. Flushed looked good on her. It looked better when he was the reason behind the color. “I would never run away. I would jet away. In a plane. With people who carried my bags and prepared my drinks. And where the hell would I go in a canoe on the lake?”

  “So...you’re not drunk?”

  “I swear to God if you don’t go away I will haul off and hit you.”

  He shrugged, holding his arms out. “Take your best shot.”

  She let out a frustrated scream, and stepped back.

  “Do you want help?”

  “No.”

  “You clearly need help.”

  “You need help. I want you. I don’t want you. I want you. Make up your friggin’ mind.” Her retorts were adorable and he chuckled even though he knew better.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “The situation or you?” Where was this playful banter coming from? Abort!

  “That’s it!” Her quick steps brought her directly in front of him. She got in one whack against his chest, payback for cuffing her yesterday, before he contained her hands. “I’m tired of you thinking you can put your filthy hands all over me.” She twisted, jerked and shoved him with her tiny body.

  “That isn’t what you were saying in the library, or calling out in the hot tub...popsicle.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He let her go and she backed off, her shoulders rising and falling, struggling for breath.

  He stood unfazed. This scrawny woman needed a lesson on how to defend herself, especially since she picked fights like a lion, but fought like a baby cub.

  “Listen, do you want me to push the canoe in the water for you?”

  She said nothing, but her narrowed stare said everything.

  “Get in. I will shove you off and you’ll be on your way.”

  Her thin lips parted. “Fine.” She brushed her brave body against his front. “But I don’t like you.”

  “Noted.”

  “And that was my final offer for sex, so don’t think you can come crawling back and I’m going to jump under the sheets with you.”

  “Double noted and underlined.

  “And—”

  “Get in the canoe before I change my mind.”

  She did, wearing no life jacket.

  Gunner hated what he was about to do, but he couldn’t send her off alone. Tossing his shoes in the canoe, he rolled up his pants, pushed off the sand and, once it floated, climbed in the opposite side.

  “What are you doing?” Izzy jumped to her feet, tipping the canoe to one side.

  “Sit your ass down.”

  “Get your ass out!”

  He picked up a wood paddle and began paddling.

  “No. Gunner. No. Absolutely not. I have things to do.”

  “What things exactly?” He continued to paddle. The further he got them away, the better chance he had of her settling down. “You planning on drowning out here? Alone? Purposely?”

  She sat down. “You’re so dramatic and dark. Depressing.”

  “Are you planning on helping or just sitting there like a spoiled princess for the entire ride?”

  She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “Listen, I don’t know why you think I would be out here to run away or kill myself. I can think of much easier, less painful ways to do both of those things. However, what I’m doing...” She paused, scrunching up her face. “I want to do alone. So if you could just jump out and swim back to shore, that would be great.”

  He wanted to do exactly that, but he couldn’t leave her. “When you’re on land, I will leave.”

  “That won’t really work.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  She grabbed a paddle with a pout. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you and I hope you can swim.”

  “We both know you can swim.”

  She didn’t smile at his tease.

  Chapter Thirteen

  AFTER TYING THE canoe to the dock and gathering the bags between the two of them, Izzy paused at the edge of the brush.

  Breathe.

  Her heart pounded faster, harder. Her fingers gripped the plastic handles with deadly force. Less than she’d originally thought she’d have to carry, having loaded Gunner up with two handfuls.

  Breathe.

  She’d convinced herself she’d be able to do this alone. The last couple days had driven her crazy, knowing only a wall separated her from the master bedroom of the suite Gunner stayed in. Who slept in the master bedroom? Gunner? Naked? How did her thoughts even go down this trail with this brush now forebodingly towering before her? Or after Gunner had been such a jerk. The brush presented a well-needed distraction from him, only he’d joined her, lingering behind her like a mosquito she wanted to swat away.

  Shoot!

  Today had been about proving to herself that she didn’t need Abby to follow through with tonight’s plan...even if she really, really wanted her here.

  “What or who are we waiting for?”

  Izzy leapt in the air as Gunner stepped into alignment beside her, momentarily forgetting he’d tagged along. Forced himself along.

  A sexy, stubborn ass of a man, who wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, but had invited himself along.

  How could she forget him with his overpowering presence...ugh. Izzy would much rather be at home soaking in the Jacuzzi or at a party, but this venture was the only obligation she had and no one else would do it. She didn’t want anyone else to do it...especially not Gunner.

  “We’re not waiting for anything.” She sounded bitchy, but didn’t care what he thought of her. He could have stayed on the beach. Should have stayed on the beach. The day he left the resort could not come soon enough.

  Liar.

  Ugh!

  They stood at the edge of the brush, just beside Crystal River for a good five more minutes before he whispered, “Then what are we doing?”

  “Nothing,” she snarled. Darn he was annoying. She needed a bloody minute.

  “Clearly, but why?”

  She groaned. “You ask a lot of questions. Just give me a minute to work myself into it.”

  “Into what?”

  Into not killing you.

  “A quiet minute,” she hissed.

  He gave her one quiet minute. “Are you afraid of the woods?”

  “No.” The word slipped too quickly and too defensively past her mouth.

  He chuckled.

  She elbowed his side. “Shut up.”

  “Is it the dark you’re afraid of?”

  “No.” Even she heard the difference in her tone and how truthful her second answer seemed.

  “Who might be lurking?” he pressed, making her want to tie a gag around his mouth.

  His round of a hundred questions did not relieve her nerves. Instead, they sent a double dose of annoyance and fury.

  She turned to face him. “You said when I was safely on land you would leave.” She stepped back and waved a hand to the ground below. “Here I am, standing safely on land and there’s your only way out of here.” She pointed across the river. “That’s Caliendo land, however, and there’s not a road for miles. Jump in and enjoy the swim or have a nice all-night walk back.”

  Izzy marched to the edge of the brush, pausing at the fork in the trail. Each direction broke into another fork and she purposely chose a different path than the year before. She heard Gunner following close behind or, rather, felt the wind of his movements over actually hearing him. His footsteps were soundless, his breathing unheard. But truthfully, without Abby, she was gratefu
l he hadn’t taken no for an answer.

  He smelled like nature, too. Woodsy, leafy...everything reminded her of the salty taste of his skin under her tongue.

  Focus.

  As they approached the top of the hill, Izzy slipped off the path to creep through the trees without being seen. She stopped at the crest of the rise. Like the other trails, this one broke into an open space. Located in the heart of the region sat a mess hall, a large building made of barn board painted white. Oversized white canvas tents encircled the mess hall but there was no sign of campfires, singing or activities. As she’d planned, the teenagers were quietly tucked inside their tents for the night. Lazy teenagers, the reason she’d chosen this path. They’d be less likely to investigate noise or the beams of her flashlight.

  Gunner crouched down beside her. The bags in his hands sat in a pile behind them while his hands were busy shifting the branches and peering at the dimly lit camp.

  “Is this a campground? Like a summer camp?”

  She gripped the bags tighter. “Yes, sir. The big excitement you wanted to partake in.”

  Now they’d have to sneak the contents of the bags to the cement patio in the front of the mess hall—without being seen—drop them off and get the heck out of there.

  “We broke into a camp?”

  “Yup.” She stood.

  “Why? What do you have in these bags that a camp would need? Craft supplies?” While he tossed sarcasm at her, in truth, a couple bags were filled with craft supplies, plus towels and toiletries.

  However, the mission wasn’t about the contents, but, rather, the risk.

  Steadying the bags on her wrists, she pulled a black winter hat out of her pocket to cover her ponytail.

  An open-mouthed Gunner stared. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I don’t have an extra, so pull up your hood.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  When he still didn’t move, Izzy reached for his hood, causing the bags to shift. Losing balance, she crashed right into his solid chest. A short, shocked scream tore from her throat as Gunner tried to steady her. Not a smooth, polished and graceful, movie-style mannered, swooping her in one arm like a hero steadying. Nope, instead he must have tripped over something and he toppled backwards, taking her down with him. Crashing together on the ground, they tumbled over the bags while hers hurtled on top of them. Pain shot through all sorts of new areas in her body. When they finally stopped moving, Izzy laid face down against the ground. Her upper torso had landed on one of the bags, while her legs didn’t know where his began and hers ended.

  Gunner cursed.

  Izzy groaned. “You suck.” She wiggled her wrists free from the bag straps, liberating her aching arms.

  “Me? You knocked us over.” He propped himself into a sitting position, his legs lifting her stomach in the air. Her hands slid and she slipped back down, landing herself on his knee.

  “Ouch! Stop moving.” She grasped a handful of his shirt while the other hand pushed up on his leg.

  The low, masculine chuckle deep from his chest caught her by surprise. She paused, mid-push, to glance at the smile stealing his lips, softening the hard lines of his face. The same smile he’d sent her when they’d been naked and experimenting on each other’s bodies.

  Izzy’s insides melted. Real smiles were rare in her world when so-called friends were more interested in another round of drinks and the façade they wore like their second skin.

  She felt her lips curl upwards, but when he caught her staring, his smile slipped away as quickly as losing sight of a rainbow.

  She stilled, in a trance, as his hands moved to the sides of her face. She thought he might touch her skin, graze her cheeks. When his warm fingers tucked lose pieces of her hair under her hat, grazing her forehead, she forgot how he irritated her.

  “You’re one clumsy girl.”

  “Woman.”

  “I know.” He pulled her hat down over her ears. “Can you get off my legs so we can stand?” And just like that, Izzy realized it had been a one-sided moment. Her moment. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the second time at the pool?

  Thankfully, she hadn’t acted on any of her foolish impulses, like kissing him. Izzy climbed to her feet, dusted off her clothes and grabbed the bags. She scanned the area, once more finding it clear.

  Good to go.

  Gunner invaded her space, again and Izzy stilled. His side rubbed against hers, his smell assaulting her like a cruel joke. She ignored it all.

  She pointed at the big building. “We’re heading to the mess hall. We will drop the bags there, in the shadow.”

  “I’m terrified.” She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. He shook the bag. “Are these cans of food clanging around in this bag?”

  “Stop talking.” She pushed off his shoulder and started out, eyeing the mess hall curtains for movement or open cracks in the tents. Nothing.

  Halfway across the yard, she felt pretty proud of herself. Easy peasy. She remembered last year when her and Abby had to wait longer into the night for the camp to settle down. By the time they’d climbed the path, she’d been ready to pass out. Not this year. No sight of anyone. Planned perfectly...almost. She still had Gunner on her tail.

  Reaching the cement pad of the mess hall, she dropped her bags where the light didn’t reach. Turning her flashlight on, she began rummaging through the bags for the supplies she needed to give the newspaper a fun tale to tell.

  “Are we going to stock their shelves too? Maybe cook them breakfast?”

  “Ha ha. Aren’t you an ass turned comedian?”

  “I have one question. Why didn’t you come during the day and, I don’t know, walk through the front gates?”

  “Ah-ha! Here.” She passed him the flashlight. “Shine in this bag, smart ass.”

  He did and she pulled out her supplies. Silly string, a bag of black spiders and...the costume.

  She zipped the bag back shut and started shaking the cans.

  “Ready?” she eagerly asked him.

  “Not likely.”

  She laughed, snapped the lid off the can and began spraying the bags.

  “You brought bags here to vandalize them?”

  “Shhh.” His thick masculine voice was going to get them caught. “Start spraying. And hurry.”

  “No.”

  Didn’t he know what fun felt like? Izzy turned, pointing the can in his direction and sprayed silly string at him. He jumped back but she still managed to design a web across his middle.

  She paused while he looked down at her artwork across his shirt. She held back her laugh, anticipating his reaction. This could go one of two ways: He was going to flip his lid or join in. Surprisingly, she hoped for the latter, but didn’t count on it.

  He brought his head up with a smirk on his lips. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  “You think so, huh?” She smiled. “Last time I checked, your tail was tucked between your legs.”

  He popped off the lid, letting it fall to the ground. “You’re digging yourself a deeper hole.”

  She arched her eyebrows at him. “You wouldn’t dare.” But, oh, how she wanted him to.

  He shook the can.

  She shook hers.

  “Prepare yourself,” he said.

  “Prepare to be whooped by a girl.”

  When his low chuckle kissed her ears, she forgot they were being quiet.

  “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Her threatening voice made his lips rise. It sounded pathetic.

  He held the can holstered at his side like he was preparing for a shoot out. Izzy lowered her can, mimicking his stance.

  He lowered his head.

  She lowered hers.

  She could almost hear the music from an old western movie playing in the background.

  Who would draw first?

  Screw it. Izzy lifted the can, initiating the silly string war. Streams flew from both directions. As did the laughter. They ducked and darting arou
nd the pad. He had good aim, better than she’d expected and soon she felt like a walking spider web. Her aim wasn’t bad either, and she only stopped when her can spit out air and the last evidence of string.

  She looked from the empty can to the bag, where full canisters awaited for her to resume the war. His emptied too, and when she looked back at him, they played a silent game of who would make a run for the cans first. They mutely decided both.

  Diving toward the bags, they landed on their knees sending sticky hands fumbling to grip the full cans. Their bodies thumped, the cans knocked over and rolled away. She flipped over the bags and reached for one of the cans trailing away when she felt his fingers tickle her side.

  “No,” she cried. “Stop!” His body crushed down on top of her, his long arms having no difficulty reaching her hands and prying the can away from her fingers.

  “Someone’s ticklish...”

  She threw the can and crawled out from under him to chase after it, but his strong fingers gripped her ankles and pulled her back. She flipped on her backside, flailing to get away, and laughing all the while, but his strength outweighed hers and soon her body lay flat beneath him. He firmly covered every last inch of her like a protective blanket. Her hands were trapped between their chests, pressed against his, feeling his muscles flex. His hands didn’t touch her, both arms on either side of her, but his puffs of breath kissed her skin. He didn’t move or hide the lust building in his stare.

  “You planning on kissing me?” She wanted—needed—to know.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  His mixed signals were atrocious.

  “Why?”

  Was she purposely trying to stop him from kissing her? With his quick temper, it wouldn’t take much.

  Gunner slid a piece of her hair off her forehead, squishing the slime against her skin. “Why not?”

  “I think your exact words were, ‘It was a one night stand’. Am I right?”

  He grinned at her.

  Silly string was such a stupid idea, but so was allowing him to tag along.

  “And tonight is a new one night.”

  Izzy opened her mouth to object when his mouth came crashing down on hers, shutting off the objecting part of her brain.

  His mouth familiarized itself with how to capture hers at all the right times and firmly pried open her lips with a smoothness that spilled inside her mouth. She’d label it majestic if that didn’t sound so lame.