Margie took a deep shivering breath and swept her gaze over everyone’s wondering faces. “I know this, because…the year before I met Christopher, I almost died and had open heart surgery. It made me really consider my life and…stuff. That’s why I don’t, ah, run around in just my swimsuit.” She smoothed a hand over the top she wore buttoned to her collarbones.
The zing of a passing mosquito filled the stunned, gaping quiet.
Olivia hadn’t given Margie’s habit of always wearing a shirt a single thought. If she had, she would have assumed the fair-skinned Margie was taking sensible precaution in the sun or her general air of shy modesty.
Margie shrugged. “Anyhow, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but if you and Dave want to spend time together, you should enjoy your time together. Life is too uncertain. That’s what I meant to say.”
Olivia fumbled for words. “Thank you.”
Kay leaned forward. “I’m sorry, Livie. We should have asked you if you—told you we’re here for you if you need us, instead of all jumping on you.”
The others added their apologies, and the mood lightened.
JoAnn smiled. “Okay, let’s rewind here. We’ll stop hovering like worrywart moms. We’re here for you, and if you and Dave have something good going, we’re delighted for you. Margie’s absolutely right. You both deserve some fun and happiness after the past year.”
“So what’s it like kissing Dave?” Pippa teased.
Olivia smiled, swamped under heady, sweet memories of those kisses. “Honestly? Well, consider how good it could be, and…” Mirth bubbling, she paused, relishing her friends’ expectant expressions. “It’s better.”
****
A solitary lantern burned, guiding Dave to the quiet, sleeping camp. He cut the low rumbling engine and they coasted into shore, and Chuck did likewise with his boat.
They’d had a good fishing night, with a decent catch and friendly rambling conversations between answer after answer to the twins’ eager questions.
Quiet murmured hellos and good nights rose from drowsy women on their cots. Mike helped Scott with the sleeping boys curled together like puppies on the sleeping bag tucked in the bow. Nate waved and disappeared into the cool dark to join Kay. Chuck, Rich, and Mark headed off to their beds in High Water.
Someone had set up his cot, but he had no one waiting, asleep or awake. Was Olivia awake? Saying goodnight to Mark?
Hell, get a grip.
After washing up, he settled onto his cot, but lay restless, hoping for sleep. Even Scott snoring to break the stifling quiet would have been welcome. He needed to walk and stretch. In past years, on sleepless nights here at the river, he’d have gone for a hike or fished along the shore. At home, he would have run.
He pushed off the cot, shoved on his shoes, and grabbed his cane. Resigned to the fact he should stay close to camp, he walked up to the point, the trail easy to follow under the crystalline moonlight, his footsteps marking a loud, uneven crunch in the tranquil night.
A mosquito whined by his ear.
To his left lay Spider Camp, on the right, High Water, the moonlight cleanly revealing who slept where. Furthest, Chuck and Pippa side by side. In the center, Mark’s blond head gleamed and, nearby, Rich snored in his neon orange sleeping bag. Closest to him, Livie’s modest tent, the edge of her cot visible through the netting.
Time washed by with the lapping water.
Last year he’d come charging over this hill, the air ringing with R.J.’s careless cruelty and Livie’s pain. He should have flattened that asshole. His chest and fists tightened.
He’d run.
He shut his eyes against the pang of loss, awash in memories of running. The stretch of his muscles, pump of his heart and lungs, steady beat of feet against ground, the burn of pushing his endurance, the rush of a second wind.
No more running.
Footsteps on gravel pulled him into the present.
Livie waved timidly. “I saw you standing up here for so long. Everything okay?” Her sweet whisper hugged around him, soft and low.
No, so much was not okay. “Everything’s fine.”
“How was fishing?”
“A decent night. The boys had fun.”
“That’s good.” Livie stepped hesitantly aside, as if to return to her bed. Then, she slipped toward him, their mouths meeting in a soft brushing kiss.
Cupping her head in one hand, Dave slowed and deepened the kiss. He savored how her delicate hands rested on his hips, her nipples tightening against his chest. Her soft knit tank top and shorts clung to her curves, inviting his free hand to caress and explore.
Holding Livie was nothing like hugging JoAnn or Kay, or holding past lovers. This was way too close to his old feelings for Tess, yet entirely different. This was trouble. This was complicated.
Just turn the brain off. Go with the feeling.
Yeah, he wanted her in his bed, bad, but this peaceful embrace and slow kissing satisfied some restless need. He’d lost track of time when, finally, commonsense nudged him into easing them apart and dropping his hands away. No choice or the greedier side of his need was going to burn into much more. “You need to sleep. See you at breakfast.”
She smiled, eyes drowsy and deep, and left him with a brush of her lips to his and a whispered good night.
He waited until she slipped into her tent before heading to his cot.
When Dave woke to the scent of coffee, the sun perched brightly on the mountains and most of the folks were awake and chatting over coffee and tea in annoying don’t-wake-anyone whispers.
He sat, scrubbing his hands over his unshaven, sleep-creased face, and blinked. Livie sat beside Lloyd at the table, sipping at her mug. She waved shyly.
“Hey.” He stripped off his T-shirt and headed to the water to wash the sleep away. His stiff, hitching stride annoyed the crap out of him as he waded into the water. Deal, just got to deal. He scooped cool water over his face and head, and then dunked himself and swam out several yards past the boats, trying to wash the rising bad mood away. He was sick of dealing.
The short swim helped, and after he dried off, Livie brought him his coffee, her expression warm, sweetly nervous, and kissable. The last of his grim mood evaporated.
“Thanks.” As he reached for his mug, resistance failed, and he leapt from the cliff of indecision. He intended a quick and casual kiss, but need and the yielding warmth of her mouth erased that sketchy plan, along with his awareness of time, assorted aches, and his watchful friends.
Chapter Seven
Lost in his kiss, Olivia slid her fingers into his wet, swim-tousled hair, needing him closer—
Daisy’s chortling gurgle broke them apart, sharply reminding Olivia of their audience. Flustered, she snapped her hands behind her back. Lloyd was paying sharp attention to stirring his coffee, but the rest of the folks were openly watching them while continuing drowsy conversation and friendly teasing. The kiss had been short. Maybe. But…oh, my, how something technically chaste could cause near spontaneous combustion.
Dave recovered faster, clearing his throat, giving Olivia a roguish, conspiratorial grin. “Thanks for fixing my coffee.” He took a long swallow from his mug.
“Hey, all! What’s for breakfast?” Nate waved as he and Kay walked hand in hand down the trail.
“So far, coffee. What do you feel like cooking?” Patti teased.
“He’s a pro at granola bars,” Kay teased.
“Hey, low blow, babe. I distinctly recall you saying my omelets were awesome.”
“I think what I really said was—” Kay rose on tiptoe and whispered in Nate’s ear.
Laughter broke from Nate. “Oh, no, not going there.”
JoAnn chuckled as she emerged from her sleeping bag. “Today’s official menu says your choice of cereal or PB and J’s.” She kissed her daughter and husband, her ruffling Lloyd’s hair radiating deep love.
Dave slid into the empty seat beside Lloyd with his coffee and tickled Daisy’s cherub chee
k. Good humor sparked in his eyes as he joked and bantered with the guys.
Still bemused by his morning kiss, Olivia joined JoAnn and the others in setting out the easy breakfast. She loved these quiet, family-like mornings around the table, drinking coffee and chatting.
After breakfast, Dave joined Scott, Mark, Terry, and the twins for some raucous splashing play in the water. He looked different today, more than just the clean shave leaving his strong jaw and carved features sharply revealed. Happiness, he was happy.
She curled her hands in her lap. Oh, and yes, so tempting, and how that excited her more than worried her was a worry in itself.
Olivia caught Kay watching them, her blue eyes misty.
Kay smiled. “It’s so good seeing Dave smiling.”
Her friends’ concerns rushed in. He’s not a serious guy. They knew him, and she should trust their concern, but last night—no, last night was tipping beyond curious flirtation.
Now, seeing him in the boisterous boyish play, being the fun-loving man of last year…She wanted that. Him.
You’re not a casual gal…
True enough, but today she longed to be, just a little.
…enjoy your time together. Life is too uncertain.
“I think that’s it.” Kay gave the damp dishtowel a snap and hung it neatly on the drying line. “I’m off to paint. See you at lunch or so.”
Olivia double-checked the tidied kitchen area. “Have fun.”
“Oh, I will. You, too.” Kay looked past Olivia, winked, and strode briskly off toward her camp.
Olivia’s heart took a light leap, certain Dave stood behind her.
He wrapped wet arms around her waist, his cool bare chest brushing against the bare skin of her back, the rasp of hair and hard muscles intimate and intriguing. He rubbed his freshly shaved cheek against hers, and murmured cheerfully in her ear, “Want to go fishing?”
She leaned into his hands, her body on sensual alert and mind far off fishing. “Sure.”
Yes. Margie was right. Life was far too uncertain, and Dave’s every touch was rich wine after a lifetime of water. Today, she’d be that casual girl. Today, she’d ignore the cautionary talk of last night and her own annoying anxieties and focus on enjoying one moment at a time.
“I’ll show you my favorite fishing holes. We’ll pack a picnic lunch. There’s an easy hike you might like for pictures.”
The first stop, like their Black Canyon day, was the marina for fuel and ice, and he bought her a fishing license good for Nevada and Arizona.
His first spot was beautiful, but occupied. They waved and moved on to another reedy nook, sheltered by a spur of rock, peaceful and wild. Red-winged blackbirds sang and swayed on cattails, and small brown birds flitted in the willows.
After walking her through a brief lesson on using the child-sized spincaster reel and rod he’d borrowed from Scott, Dave helped her bait the small hooks with mealworms. Casting proved harder than Dave made it look. She snarled the line and hooked her clothes and the boat, but Dave just genially untangled her each time, and she stopped cringing at her mistakes. She enjoyed using the pushbutton to let the line whiz out and the sinker and bobber’s soft plunk into the water. R.J. had never invited her to participate in the saltwater fishing excursions she’d endured, and she’d never desired to learn to use those heavy rods.
On her next cast, the bobber jiggled and dunked, and the line zigzagged for the reeds.
“You got one. Now, give a clean jerk and set the hook.”
The fish tugged and fought the line, bending the slender rod tip. She reeled the scrappy creature toward the boat, and raised a glistening, wriggling bluegill smaller than her hand.
She laughed. “All that fight from such a little thing?”
“Yep. Fun fish to catch.”
Dave gently clasped the struggling fish in his big hand and showed her how to gently extract the hook. Gold, deep blue, olive green, and pearly silver scales shimmered in the sunlight, with deeper tiger stripes marking its side, and the dark blue gill patch that gave the fish its name.
“And this guy will live to fight another day.” He slipped the tiny fighter into the water. The fish flicked its fins and zipped into the depths toward the reeds.
Dave opened the boat’s awning against the baking sun. They fished the spot for a while longer, catching and releasing a number of undersized bluegill. Dave caught one he declared a keeper, but released that one too.
“I think we’re catching the same ones over and over.”
Dave laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The heat and peace wrapped her in soothing comfort, the shifting shadows marked the passing morning, with distant watercraft on the lake the only interruption. She loved seeing the ease filling Dave’s face. He loved speed, and he was perfectly content anchored in this quiet cove catching fish he couldn’t keep. He was proving himself a man of many opposites and far more complex than his friends credited him, perhaps more than he credited himself.
Dave released his last bluegill and stowed his fishing rod. “Ready to find a beach and have lunch?”
“Sure.” Olivia reeled in her line and found an empty hook. “Hah, that’s why I haven’t gotten a bite! They stole my bait.”
“They may not be glamorous, but they’re a fun fish.”
After leisurely cruising the shoreline for a couple miles, Dave slowed the boat, steering into a small hidden cove. “Here’s the place I wanted for our picnic.”
The sheltered beach resembled Skunk Beach: a tiny patch of clear shallows, sand, and gravel nestled into the hillside, fringed with scrawny tangled brush, and barely visible to anyone boating by. She helped secure the boat and arrange the pop up sun shelter, beach blanket, and picnic things on the beach.
Dave stripped to his swim trunks, waded out, and dunked himself. He surfaced, shaking the water from his dripping hair. “Ah, feels good.”
Grinning, she slipped off her T-shirt and shorts, revealing her simple black bikini.
Dave half-floated, waiting with hungry eyes and warm smile, his muscular arms outstretched, gently fanning to keep his balance. Oh, my, he was a feast for the eyes.
“Hmm, is it safe to come in the water?” She stepped into the clear shallows. Tiny fish darted by her feet.
“Why not come here and find out?”
Olivia waded forward until the water lapped deliciously around her waist, then dropped into a gliding stroke to reach him. He caught her with one arm, studying her with a smile.
“What?” Looking into his brown eyes gleaming like gold in the sunlight was as addictive as his kisses. Her heartbeat skipped. Would he kiss her?
“Just enjoying the moment.” He gathered her into a hungry, smoldering kiss.
Enjoying the moment. Exactly. She cupped her hand to his cheek, sinking into him and the delicious pleasure—
Until they lost focus on floating, and an abrupt dunking had them surfacing with spluttering laughter.
At Dave’s full-on laughter, a sweet sharp twist caught her heart. He needed to laugh like that more often.
****
Still chuckling, Dave wiped the water from his face, loving the joy sparkling in Livie’s soft eyes. Fighting his body’s demand to pull her into his arms, he pushed to his feet. He needed to be smart and slow things down.
“Come on, let’s eat.” He caught her hand, and led her onshore. The hot wrap of midday air pulled in drying licks at his wet skin.
They lounged on the beach blanket in the shade of the shelter, eating tuna sandwiches and chips as he rambled on with only half his mind on their safe and innocent conversation of fishing and boating. Slowing down was best, for a multitude of reasons.
First, he owed her big time for manhandling and mishandling her last year and his suck-ass attitude.
Second, he strongly suspected he was the first man she’d hooked up with since the asshole, so that meant no rushing her and extra caution.
Third, and selfishly, he hadn’t been wit
h a woman since the crash and, frankly, he had some concerns. The system worked fine—hell, the hard-ons just thinking about Livie incited were proof enough—and the doc had given thumbs-up months ago to put sex back on the approved activity list—but, as with walking and running, some moves weren’t happening without planning and some weren’t happening ever.
Fourth, and most important, he cared about Livie. They were in rebound phases of life and that was tricky enough. Livie firmly belonged to the group, and if he screwed up, that meant consequences.
Fifth, they should have the talk. Livie had suffered a husband who couldn’t keep it zipped. He figured he owed her honesty about his past, and while he’d never been the man slut Nate had accused him of in their slanging match last year, he hadn’t exactly walked the straight and narrow either.
If you’re gonna to do a job, you might as well do it right the first damn time. Dad had been talking about carpentry at the time, but Dave had learned over the years that simple rule applied to everything in life, whether skydiving, fighting a forest fire, or sex.
Right, but how to open that awkward conversation? Dave took a long swallow of water. Hell, another apology couldn’t hurt. “Sorry for being such a jerk this week.”
She gave him a smile brimming with forgiveness he didn’t deserve. “Not so terrible.”
“Thanks. Just, stuff’s all knotted up inside lately…You were the last person I meant to take any of it out on.”
“I’d say you were an equal-opportunity grouch with everyone.” She winked.
“Sometimes I think I’ll crawl out of my skin if I don’t move. I sleep like crap—I used to run,” he blurted. “When stuff got heavy. Before. I ran.”
Dave set down his half-eaten sandwich. The need to run ate at him like acid. He loved the burn of running, pushing with the loaded pack, beating the clock in training. He loved the pure, simple exercise of pounding along the lanes around his trailer. Running left his mind clear and body at ease in a way lifting weights or beating on a punching bag never could. Running until he was empty, mind and body, had kept his anger at his parents manageable and gotten him through their neglect and their deaths.
Love Burns Page 10