Summer by the River

by Debbie Burns

  Suddenly she realized he was glancing over at her like he was waiting for an answer. If he’d asked something, she’d not heard it.

  “Zoe said the pizza there was her favorite ever,” she said, appreciating how even though his natural stride was several inches longer, he’d set it to match hers.

  “It’s good. You’ll have to try it.”

  It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but it was still something she didn’t dare follow up on. They lapsed into silence for the better part of a mile as they settled into the rhythm of the run and their lungs and muscles warmed up.

  She was just beginning to feel like maybe that smile really had been just about the stairs when he spoke again. “Whatever your reasons for not going with us, I’d still like to show it to you sometime.”

  It was enough to make Josie lose a beat in her stride. How did she answer that? It took her nearly a full block as they circled toward town to come up with a response. “I’m sure it’s something to see.”

  “I doubt I’ll live there again. You know that piece ‘live in California once, but leave before it makes you soft, and live in New York once, but leave before it makes you hard,’ or something like that?”

  “Not all parts of California make you soft.” It was out before she could pull it back. She gave a little shake of her head and reached up to tug her ponytail. “But I can see where you might not want to stay in New York City forever,” she added, hoping he’d glaze over the first bit.

  “You’re from California?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said…not all parts of California would…make you go soft.” Maybe it was nerves, but her lungs were locking up, making it difficult to talk and jog at the same time.

  “True. I think it’s Northern California, anyway. Memory fails.”

  “Where would you live, then? After here?” She asked it more to get his attention off her and California than anything else.

  “Good question, but one I’m in no rush to figure out.”

  Josie figured he was trying to bring it around to them again. They were approaching the town, and without asking, she chose the shorter run and crossed the road, heading into the center of town toward the Green Street Stairs. She wanted to get home. She wasn’t ready to deal with any of this today.

  “So, you going to tell me where you’re from?” he asked into the silence.

  Rather than answer, she shook her head and hoped he’d get that she was out of breath. The way her lungs were today, it was either run or talk, and just maybe he’d forget and never bring it up again.

  After another half mile of silence and flat sidewalk, and her breathing was under control again. As they neared the bottom of the stairs, Carter began building his speed and nudged her with his elbow. “You ready for this?”

  Josie increased her pace to match his but didn’t reply. Their feet smacked against the first step in unison. After the first dozen or so stairs, it was clear he was going to win. There was a power in his stride that wasn’t sustainable to her today.

  “You aren’t giving up? Come on, Jos, you got this.”

  She gave it her best but couldn’t keep up. She dropped behind and waved him on when he started to slow. About halfway up, she found a bit more juice and pushed hard, reaching the hundred-and-ninetieth step just fifteen or sixteen steps behind him.

  She doubled over at the top, her lungs searing in pain. “Impressive,” she breathed, sucking in ten or so deep breaths before she stopped seeing stars.

  “Maybe it was all those carbs,” he panted. “Or the nitrates.”

  A breathless laugh escaping, she stood up and was completely taken off guard when he stepped in and closed his mouth over hers. Instinctively, she began to pull back, but one of his arms locked around her waist, and his other hand cupped one side of her jaw.

  Surely there were more romantic moments to kiss a girl than when she was red-faced, sweaty, and struggling to catch her breath. She debated pulling away to tell him so, but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Without his support, she had a feeling she’d tumble to the ground. Blood pulsed in her ears, making it sound as if she had giant seashells pressed against them.

  Her hands locked around his strong shoulders, and she came to her senses enough to break off the kiss and look him in the eye. It was a touch intoxicating, experiencing the rise and fall of his chest against hers. “You aren’t supposed to kiss a woman without asking, you know.”

  “Something tells me if I did that, I’d never have a fighting chance with you. So, you’re going to have to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me kissing you. And I’ll promise not to do it again.”

  As if to ensure she knew exactly what that entailed, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, softly until she opened her mouth to it. Then his arm tightened around her, and she felt the brush of his teeth and tongue against hers, setting the v between her legs on fire.

  Just when it started to feel like she was floating in a pool of water, he drew back five or six inches. His remarkable blue-green eyes seemed to be telling a joke of their own. “How about it? Are you going to give me permission to kiss you, Josie Waterhill?”

  Kissing him was extraordinary—his was the kind of kiss that, if she experienced too many times, learning to live without would be like living without an appendage.

  Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She needed to step out of his embrace to clear her head, but she might as well be standing on rubber legs.

  “Because, the thing is, I sure as hell could get used to it.”

  Finally, her defense system stirred to life, doing the job she’d trained it to do. “Carter, I can’t do this. It isn’t that I’m not interested; I just can’t.”

  “Can’t, won’t, or don’t want to?” he asked, and suddenly she was back on the dance floor with him again, and Myra’s earlier words ran through her mind on auto play, “With a little interest from you, he might very well stay on forever.”

  Would he leave if she turned him down? She didn’t want him to go. Not anymore. She wanted him to stay.

  Which was exactly why she needed to tell him no.

  When she had no answer ready, he leaned in again, pulling her close enough that she could savor every bend and line and bit of muscle pressing against her.

  Rather than closing over her mouth, his lips brushed against her neck, sending a wave of goose bumps down her spine. Her knees turned to butter as his mouth traveled over her skin. If it was sweaty, he wasn’t complaining. To keep standing, she tightened her grip on his shoulders. Something between a grunt and a moan rose from the middle of her throat.

  He’ll leave you, just when you need him.

  She was fairly certain the voice was her mother’s—coming to her out of nowhere like it always did. Would she ever be free of it? Those early years, the ones that had shaped her more than any others ever could, those years her mother had had free rein of her developing mind. Of her psyche.

  No doubt, the answer was no, she’d never be free of it. But it didn’t mean she had to listen to it.

  You could give him a chance and see for yourself.

  That thought came from somewhere else entirely—the same place that had told her it was safe to follow Myra home, all those years ago.

  Suddenly it occurred to Josie she’d heard that voice for the first time right at the top of these steps that looked out on the most beautiful view she’d ever seen. That first time she’d looked down on the town, impossible as it seemed in the moment, she’d wanted to make Galena her home.

  As it had turned out, doing so hadn’t been that impossible at all.

  She stepped back a foot, separating herself from the enticement of Carter’s mouth and arms so quickly a chill swept over her.

  He stayed quiet, watching for whatever was coming. She looked from him down the street toward Myra’s, then out toward the t
own below that was framed by trees brushed with the brilliant red and yellow hues of early fall.

  Her life had changed once right here at the top of these stairs. Her heart raced at the idea of giving it permission to change again.

  “You’re either really smart or really lucky, you know that?”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, one side of his mouth pulling into a grin.

  “Because, if you’d kissed me anywhere else but right here, I think I’d have told you no.”

  He dragged his fingers through his hair as his smile widened. “Can I take it that’s a yes?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not all that confident in the yes, but it isn’t a no either.”

  When he stepped in to kiss her again, she met him in the middle.

  Chapter 26

  Josie wouldn’t have thought it possible how much she began to look forward to the quiet hours when Zoe and Myra were sleeping, and it was just her and Carter and Buttercup. Certain things about Carter were becoming wonderfully predictable. Like how, when he was writing, he sat back in his chair and let out a long breath when he was working through a string of words that was evading him; as they began to form, he drummed his fingers on the desk a second or two, then his fingers danced along the keyboard once again. And how, when they watched one of the DVDs in Myra’s old movie collection, he draped his arm over her back and smoothed the bare skin above her waist with his thumb, sending her into a comfortable trance.

  Josie’s favorite nights were when they headed into the kitchen for a late-night cook-off. He wasn’t a talented cook by any measure, but he didn’t seem to care. He’d add too much salt or liquid or burn something to a crisp and get her laughing so hard she’d nearly pee her pants.

  Tonight, after their fourth cook-off, she said she thought he was ruining his food on purpose. “You’re just letting me win because you want in my pants, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t put that past me.” He waggled an eyebrow and pushed his failed omelet aside for another bite of hers. “But it sounded like they would taste well together.” He’d added both capers and jalapeños and had overcooked it too.

  “To you, maybe,” she said with a laugh. She’d made a veggie and goat-cheese omelet, and they ate it together. Halfway through, she leaned close to nibble on his neck. “You can get in my pants anyway, you know.”

  That was all it took to get his attention off their late-night snack. After a kiss that melted her insides into goo, he said, “What do you say I wrap it up and save it for tomorrow?”

  “Wrap what up?” she teased. She loaded the dishes into the dishwasher while he put the omelet and the rest of the ingredients in the fridge. She was putting away the olive oil and a tea canister when she noticed that he’d followed her into the pantry empty-handed.

  While the pantry wasn’t the first spot they’d broken in outside of Carter’s bedroom, it was the most crowded. Her mind raced with half a dozen reasons not to, but her body responded with a hell, yes. She ended up braced against the only twenty-four inches of empty wall not lined with shelving and her legs locked around Carter’s hips.

  She credited it to his ability to read her, but they climaxed at the same time. Afterward, he continued to brace her against the wall and rest his forehead against hers as their breathing slowed.

  “I could get used to you, you know.”

  She ran her hands through his thick hair, over his ears, and along the stubble lining his jaw but didn’t respond.

  “That’s a lie,” he added. “It isn’t just that I could get used to you. It’s that I want to get used to you. I want this; I want you. For more than just today. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  Josie felt the familiar walls inside her begin to close tight, like a giant ocean clam when a predator was near. Damn him anyway to bring it up when they were intimate like this—when he was still inside her.

  The first night they were together, almost three weeks ago now, she’d asked him to keep to the present. “If you want me to be able to handle this—and believe me, I want to be able to handle this—promise me you’ll leave my life before this out of it,” she’d said. “I’m here. Zoe’s here. You’re here. If there are things you want to share about your family, about your past, I’m happy to listen. But my family’s here. My life is here. Nothing before my coming to Galena matters.”

  She could tell he hadn’t been satisfied, that he’d been swallowing back a mountain of curiosity, but he’d wrapped his hand around hers and agreed.

  “There’s something else,” she’d said. “It’s the same in the other direction too. If it’s further than a week or two out, I’m not going to want to talk about it. Here, this, now. It’s all I can handle. And trust me, it’s a stretch.”

  Again, he’d agreed. Probably because he’d wanted in her pants a second time.

  Suddenly, Josie felt trapped by the nearby shelves, the cramped space, his body pressing against her, holding her up. “Carter—don’t. Please. You promised. I’m here. You’re here. It doesn’t have to get any more complicated than that.”

  He swallowed and lowered her to the ground, accidentally knocking over a can of crushed tomatoes in the process. He was either mad or hurt, but Josie wasn’t going to press to figure out which.

  She was reaching for her wadded-up yoga pants when she felt something wet and sticky between her legs.

  “Carter!” she said the same second he said, “Shit!”

  “Did it tear?” she asked. Panic flooded in. She had a prescription ready to get on the pill with the start of her next cycle, but until then, they’d been relying entirely on condoms.

  “Yeah. Completely. No wonder it felt so good.”

  She grabbed her pants and made a mad dash for the hall bathroom. She didn’t quite know what to do other than sit on the toilet and hope gravity could work a miracle. She forgot about closing the door, and Carter appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame but remained quiet. He was probably doing the same thing as her, counting out the days since the start of her last period. How long had it been? Fifteen or sixteen, she guessed. It was quite possibly still in her window of ovulation.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, noticing he’d pulled out his phone.

  “My calendar.”

  It was eleven-thirty on a Wednesday night. The odds were slim anything was open, but she asked anyway. “Can you see how close the nearest all-night drugstore is? And can you give me a minute to clean up?”

  He stepped away and shut the door behind him without saying anything. When she came out a few minutes later, he was coming down the stairs. Buttercup was awake and looking back and forth between them as if he’d picked up on the subtle panic emanating across the room.

  Carter’s keys were in his hand. “Everything around here is closed. If you’re in the mood for a drive, it looks as if there’s one in Dubuque.”

  “What if Zoe wakes up?”

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip but said nothing. Josie blinked as she looked at him. There was something in the set of his shoulders—he wasn’t panicky like her. Well, maybe a little. More so, he seemed mad and working to keep it under control.

  “Want to wake up Myra and tell her?” he asked.

  Josie did the math in her head as she tried to remember bio class and the facts she’d learned. How long did it take those little suckers to break down a wall? An hour? Two? If she waited here for him to come back, she could very well be playing with fire. If Zoe did wake up, which she rarely did, and she couldn’t find Josie, no doubt she’d find Myra. Rather than waking Myra up, Josie dashed into the kitchen and wrote a note, then jogged upstairs and set it by Myra’s nightstand.

  When she came down, Carter was waiting by the front door with Buttercup at his side. Josie closed a hand around one warm, furry ear, and Buttercup leaned into it, pressing into
her leg.

  Outside, the night was beautiful and crisp, and a zillion stars studded a moonless sky. Carter drove in silence for over ten minutes as Josie gazed at the stars and Buttercup sprawled across the back seat, calmer about the night ride than he was during the day.

  Finally, Josie asked if Carter was going to tell her why he was mad. “Is it because I want to take this pill?” She remembered him saying he’d been raised Catholic. Even though it didn’t do anything but prevent an unfertilized egg from being fertilized, maybe he disapproved of it.

  “No, it’s your body and entirely your prerogative.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He was quiet another minute, then finally he let out a breath of air. “You don’t want things to get complicated, Josie. You don’t want me to feel what I’m feeling. You don’t want to talk about the past, and you don’t want to talk about the future. You can do your best to slam shut every door around you, but life is complicated. The way I see it, the only thing to do with complicated is talk about it.” He drummed one thumb against the steering wheel.

  “Case in point, look at tonight. We’re committed to being careful and still this happened.” He shifted in his seat and his arm brushed against her, making her crave his touch even though she didn’t reach for him. “I guess what I’m saying is, eventually, you’re either going to have to ask me to ship out, or you’re going to have to start talking.”

  Josie stared out into the darkness and watched a thin row of trees and fence line slipping past. She needed to say something in response, needed to tell him that hard-to-manage feelings were rising inside her too. And they were big enough to be terrifying.

  Her throat locked up at the thought of broaching it, but there were things she could tell him about her past—about Zoe—that would help him better understand her fears. She could trust him with the truth. She’d known that even before they started sleeping together.