Today,
I push away those dark associations. It’s a gorgeous summer
afternoon, the heat mellowed to an easy summer’s breeze, and I
know the water will be cool and placid out on the creek. I’ve
already got my rod and tackle box stashed in the trunk of my car and
a bikini under my clothes, so I park, grab them, and head down the
path to where my old family rowboat is moored to the community dock.
Sawyer is already there, loading up the boat with a cooler and his
line.
“I
hope you bought snacks,” I call ahead. “And I’m not
talking about carrot sticks this time.”
My
words fade on the breeze. Sawyer straightens up—but it’s
not Sawyer. Not even close.
“Don’t
worry.” Will smiles at me, back to his sexy, stubbled self in
jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. “I’ve been warned. Sawyer
said you’d push me out of the boat if I so much as dared to
bring a celery stalk.”
My
heart beats faster. “Where is he?” I ask, trying to seem
cool.
“He
sends his apologies, something about a breech birth on a mare,”
Will explains. “He didn’t want to leave you in the lurch,
so he sent me instead. Surprise.” He gives me a crooked grin.
But
I’m not surprised, not one bit. Seeing Will here, looking so
damn good framed in the hazy afternoon sun, it feels strangely
inevitable. The tension I’ve been carrying all week seems to
melt away, and I suddenly feel lighter, free.
I’m
happy to see him.
“Have
you ever fished before?” I ask, moving to dump my things in the
rowboat. Will blinks, like he was expecting me to put up a fight,
then nods.
“I
know my way around a line,” he says, holding out a hand to help
me off the shore. I step into the boat and settle on one of the
narrow wooden benches, tucking my feet beside the cooler. He climbs
in with me, pausing as the rickety old boat rocks and creaks from his
weight. Will looks uneasy. “Are you sure this thing is
seaworthy?”
“Hey,”
I protest. “Don’t insult Harold.”
“Harold?”
he echoes, laughing. “Let me guess, he’s Berta’s
cousin.”
I
laugh, surprised he remembers my old car’s name. “I’ve
had this boat since I was a kid,” I explain. “My dad got
it for me for my seventh birthday. It’s pretty much
indestructible.”
“Are
you sure?” Will carefully takes a seat.
I
stick my tongue out. “Just for that, you can row.”
Will
jams on a baseball cap, grabs the oars, and pushes off from the
shore, rowing us out into the creek with steady, sure strokes. His
biceps flex with every pull, and I’m glad I’ve got my
shades on to hide my lingering eyes.
“So
how was your week?” I ask, reaching to trail one hand in the
cool water. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“Miss
me?” Will asks.
“Maybe,”
I smile back.
“Then
my devious plan is working.”
I
arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t play
games.”
“Games,
no. Plans, yes,” Will corrects me. “Everyone needs a
plan.”
“So
what’s yours?”
“Well,
right now it’s to spend the afternoon out on the water with a
beautiful woman. So I think I’m doing great.”
I
can’t help smiling. “That’s it? Nothing beyond the
next two hours?”
“I
don’t know.” Will grins back. “If the fish are
biting, we could shoot for three.”
“Come
on,” I laugh, “you know what I mean.”
Will
shrugs and looks away. “I try not to do too much planning these
days. I used to have everything figured out, and the universe decided
to prove me wrong. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted.”
“Like
what?” I ask, curious.
“The
usual bullshit,” Will looks reluctant. “A bigger
apartment, a cooler car, the next promotion at work.”
“That
doesn’t seem like you,” I note, and I’m rewarded
with a smile.
“I
didn’t think so either, but I still got sucked into it all.
It’s like stepping on a treadmill,” he explains with a
sigh, “you keep moving, but the finish line gets further and
further away, so really, you’re just spinning your wheels in
place.”
“Until
you stepped off the machine,” I say, and he gives a wry laugh.
“Or
got pushed. But either way, I’m glad to be done with it. There
are more important things than chasing the next dollar. More
important people, too.”
Will
pulls the oars again, steering us downstream. I watch from behind my
shades, thoughtful. It takes a lot for someone to just upend their
life and start over, and I can’t help admiring him for taking
that step. Sure, I might still be a little baffled by his choice to
come down here after a chance meeting in the street, but it’s a
sign of courage, too. The confidence to follow his instincts, not
caring about what the rest of the world says he needs in order to be
a success. The self-reliance to know he’ll make it work,
whatever happens.
Damn,
the more I find out about this guy, the sexier he gets.
“So
what about you, honey?” Will gives me a teasing grin. “How
was your day at the office?”
I
laugh. “Good, it’s been busy. But my boss is going on
vacation soon, so it’s my chance to hold down the fort on my
own.” I explain about my plans to take over the office one day.
I’m cautious, remembering how most guys tune out the minute I
start talking about my career, or crack jokes about me being a
“ball-buster,” but instead, Will is nothing but
enthusiastic.
“That’s
great, you’ll kill it,” he declares. “Hell, you
sold me on moving down here without even trying. I don’t even
want to think what you could talk me into if you really wanted.”
He flashes me a grin, but it’s not what I want to talk him into
that’s the problem—it’s what I want to talk him
out
of.
Like
that T-shirt.
And
those jeans.
I
look around. “This is a good spot,” I say, before I get
too far thinking about stripping him naked right here in the middle
of the creek. “We can set up here.”
“As
you wish.” Will pulls the oars back into the boat, letting us
drift gently on the current. I reach for my rod and set about
threading the line and fixing the right tackle and bait from my box.
Will watches, then whistles. “You know what you’re doing,
huh?”
“I
still hold the title for biggest bass in the county.” I pull
back the rod, then flick the line out into the water in one smooth
swoop. The buoy bobs on the surface, marking the spot, so I nestle
the rod into the nook of the oar rest, then settle down on the floor
of the boat and flip the top of the cooler. “Ooh, Dove bars,
good call.”
I
rip into one, savoring the cool creamy sweetness. When I look up,
Will is still watching at me. “That’s it?” he asks,
looking amused. “I thought you came here to fish.”
“I
am,” I nod to the line. “The fish will bite in their own
time.”
I
let out a yawn, and stretch my legs out, resting my feet up on the
side of the boat beside my rod. I lean back, and let the afternoon
sun warm me from the inside out. It’s been a long, strange
week, but right now, everything feels just right: I have no place to
be, nothing to do, ice cream in the cooler, and oh yeah, a hot guy
trapped in the boat with me.
Not
bad for a Friday afternoon.
I
hear Will chuckle. “Pass me one of those,” he says, so I
toss him a Dove bar. He makes himself comfortable, and licks melting
ice cream off his thumb.
Hello
.
He
glances up and finds me watching from over the top of my shades. “How
are you doing over there?” he asks. “Getting . . . hot?”
“I’m
fine,” I answer sweetly. “But you’re welcome to go
take a dip.”
He
grins. “Not necessary.”
Too
bad. A spot of skinny dipping would definitely amp things up a notch.
In fact . . . I give him another look. Will seems
to be totally at ease, but his posture seems kind of tense.
I
slowly cross and recross my bare legs. His jaw clenches, just a
flicker.
Interesting . . .
I
finish up my ice cream and set the wrapper aside. Casually, I
straighten up, and slowly lift my tank top over my head to reveal the
red bikini top I’m wearing underneath. I feel Will’s eyes
burning on my skin as I stretch, yawning. “The sun’s hot
today,” I say innocently, digging in my bag for a bottle of sun
lotion. “Would you mind getting my back?”
Will
meets my gaze. His lips curl in a smile, like he knows just what I’m
doing right now. “Sure.” He takes the bottle and I turn,
sweeping my hair to one side to reveal my bare back.
I
feel Will shift closer. There’s a pause, and then I feel the
cool spread of lotion on my skin, and Will’s strong, steady
hands smoothing it over my shoulders.
My
skin prickles. Not from the cold, but the feel of his touch, skimming
over my back now in a soft, leisurely caress. Will is slow and
methodical; he strokes every inch of my bare skin in smooth circles,
down over my spine and edging around my sides in an almost-hypnotic
rhythm, every touch sending ripples of sensation spiraling through
me, the heat building, a bulls-eye between my thighs.
God,
he’s good.
I
find myself slipping into the breathless haze of desire, thoughts
whirling now in my mind. Is this how he’d touch me when we’re
naked and undone in each other’s arms? Or is this his
self-control still holding tight? Given half a chance, would he be
rougher, wild? Holding me down, making me pant and moan for
more . . . ?
“All
done.”
Maybe
it’s my own desire talking, but I swear Will’s voice is
thicker, his jaw clenched more firmly when I turn and take the bottle
back. There are mere inches between us now, and I can see the heat of
lust in his eyes.
“Thanks,”
I murmur, with a playful smile. “Want me to do you now?”
Will holds my gaze, a challenge.
“Right here?”
I
grin. “There’s plenty of room.”
“I
don’t know,” he replies, lips curling in a teasing grin.
“I’m pretty big.”
I
can’t help it, I burst out laughing. Will grins. “We were
talking about my height, weren’t we?”
“Sure
we were.” I shake my head, still grinning. What is it about
this guy that I can go from turned on to laughing in hysterics in
five seconds flat? I’m about to go retreat to my end of the
boat, when my rod skitters and jerks in its place.
“You
got a bite!” Will exclaims. I leap up and grab the rod, trying
to keep my balance as the boat shifts and creaks on the current.
Something’s biting alright, I can feel the tension on the line.
“It’s
a big one,” I say, starting to reel it in. “I think it’s
snagged on something . . .”
“Here.”
Will gets up and moves to stand behind me. He wraps his arms around
me, helping keep the rod steady.
Suddenly,
fishing is the last thing on my mind.
His
body presses against the length of me, his strong arms cradling me
close. In an instant, I’m surrounded by him: his scent, the
whisper of his breath against my cheek, the heat from his
sun-drenched skin. It’s an avalanche of sensation, and god,
it’s too good to be true.
How
can someone just holding me feel so right?
I
take a shaking breath, my pulse racing. His hands overlap with mine
on the rod, and I can’t stop myself from flexing my fingers,
threading them to intertwine with his. I don’t want this moment
to ever end, but still, it’s a rush of relief when I hear
Will’s voice curse,
“To
hell with the damn fish.”
He
throws the rod down and spins me around. I can only glimpse the
determined hunger in his eyes before his mouth claims mine in a
searching, searing kiss.
Yes
.
Hot
and wild, the fever rages through me in an instant. The boat rocks
wildly, the wood groaning under our weight, but I don’t care,
all I want is more of him.
Now
.
I reach up, pulling him nearer, parting my lips to invite him in.
Will’s tongue slides, deep and slow, tangling with mine in an
erotic dance as his hands roam over my bare skin and the inferno
between us rages out of control. Nothing else matters, nothing exists
in the world but the crush of my body against his, and the
devastating magic of his mouth as we—
SPLASH!
The
cold water closes over my head in an icy rush, shocking me back to
reality again. The creek is only a few feet deep, so I easily kick to
the surface; when I come up for air, I see Will, splashing beside me,
wiping water from his eyes. He laughs.
“I
guess the universe is telling us to take a cold shower.”
I
grin, grabbing his baseball cap as it floats on by, and reach up to
jam it down on his head. Water trickles down his face. “Speak
for yourself. You’re the one who pulled me in!”
“I
didn’t pull anyone,” he protests. “Your boat
decided to give up the ghost.”
He
nods behind me. I turn and let out a gasp.
“Harold!”
The
poor old rowboat has a massive hole splintered in its side, taking on
water fast. “Don’t just splash there,” I cry to
Will, swimming over. “Help me bail it out!”
“I
think it’s past saving.”
As
I reach it, the boat tilts over and starts sinking into the creek.
Game over.
I
watch sadly. That boat was a part of my childhood, and I guess now
it’s gone for good. Will swims over and pulls me closer,
treading water to keep us both afloat. “Hey, it’s OK,”
he comforts me. “Maybe we can get it mended.”
“No,
I think Harold’s time has come. Rest in peace,” I say
watching it sink until just the prow is sticking out. I turn back to
Will, and smile. “At least he went down in service to a good
cause.”
Will
grins. “The kiss that sank the Titanic.”
I
laugh. “Just don’t expect me to give up a spot on my
raft.”