She clenched her eyes tight, wishing she could clap hands over her mental ears.
She had happy memories here, too. She had far more happy and pleasant ones than the miserable ones. More peaceful ones. Good memories. Sweet ones.
So, focus on those.
But the miserable were sharp and strong, piercing and clinging like cholla cactus, staining like rust.
What am I supposed to do when you leave me here all by myself in this damned camp?
You could try to have a good time, relax for a change, make friends and enjoy yourself, damn it, instead of bitching all day long.
Right, sand, heat, bugs, fish guts. That’s a good time? It’s my vacation too.
Then why didn’t you say something before we left?
Like you’d listen to me? I could talk myself blue and you’d never hear a word I say. Oh, and I’m supposed to enjoy you making a fool of yourself with that girl?
Kay shuddered again. Enough. She’d had far too much beer today. That was the reason for her maudlin memories. That, and R.J. and April and Olivia.
“What’s wrong? Cold?” Nate cuddled her closer. “Want to get under the bag?”
“Just tired.” She was being childish. She wasn’t six anymore, huddled in her pup tent pretending to be asleep. She’d grown up, made her own memories, and reclaimed these places for herself. She wouldn’t let the past ruin them.
She couldn’t.
Nate leaned over Kay and touched a kiss to her mouth. “Sure?”
She focused on the comforting stroke of Nate’s hand over her hip and the solid grounding weight of him spooned against her back. She reached back and stroked her hand over the soft cotton of his knit shorts.
He caught her hand and gave a tender squeeze.
Good memories.
Maybe she would finally, permanently bury the misery of the past under the weight of new and far happier memories.
“Sure.”
Chapter Eleven
She shouldn’t be walking alone. It was late. She’d followed the burros too far, hiked down the wrong ravine, and now she was going to be in such big trouble.
A murmur of noise came from below, where there shouldn’t have been anyone, pulling her to look down into the little cove. Two people in the moonlight, on the beach. Two people who didn’t belong together.
Two bodies that shouldn’t be together. Shouldn’t be doing…that…A childish whimper squeaked from her.
Nate looked up at her, grinned—
Kay lurched out of the dream with a gasping cry.
Nate woke, jerking up onto one elbow. “What’s the matter?” The tent was shadowy in the gray predawn.
Dizzy from sitting up so fast, she flopped back against the pillow. “Weird dream. Sorry.”
“You’re okay?”
“Fine.” Aside from a crazy, pounding heart and that utterly unwanted, unreal picture of Nate wrapped around Olivia in her head. As for the other, older real image…
No, no, no, not going back there. Fine? Not
.
Focus on Nate and forward. Not past
. Her stomach churned as if she had a knot of nightcrawlers in there. She made her voice calm and cool. “It was just a weird dream. I’m fine now.” She took several deep, steadying breaths.
Nate propped his head on one hand and reached out the other to brush hair away from Kay’s face. He smiled in the shadows as he stroked her hair. “I get those weird dreams. Wacky Alice in Wonderland stuff—like I’m at an important shoot and all I have is my granddad’s Brownie camera, or I’m back in college and it’s the final exam and I realize I’d forgotten I had the class and had missed every single lecture.” He chuckled. “I dreamed once my film canisters were hopping all over the darkroom. Full of tree frogs instead of film.”
Kay’s mental image of that scene shook giggles from her, and she relaxed under his gentle strokes.
He traced his fingers over her cheek and down to her lips in the same rhythmic pattern.
Outside the sanctuary of their tent, morning steadily eased out of night. A pair of birds sang out their first warm-up notes. The peace of the morning and Nate’s touch soothed the anxious tripping race of her heart and, with concerted effort, she shoved the ugly false dream images away. She focused on Nate’s face in the early morning gloom. Just Nate, steady and loving, his smile making those little crinkles by his eyes. She nuzzled her face against his hand and kissed his palm, grateful for his easy presence.
“I need you.” She arched against him, needing the press and weight of him. She needed the way he made her feel alive and weightless and free from troubles. Needed him to drive the doubts away.
“Whatever you want of me, you’ve got.”
With those simple words, desire wrapped around her again. He slid his hand over her shoulder and settled his lips on hers. She shut her eyes and sank into the long, warm, lazy kiss, relaxing as the massaging motion of his hand along her arm eased more of the tension out of her muscles. The puzzling, unending need for him rose along with the warm happiness in being with him. The writhing knot in her belly unwound, flowing away as they gently stripped the fleeting defense of clothing.
What a fool she was to hold him at a distance when he was so good for her.
Kay opened her mouth to his and tugged him close. A cold wake of desperation rolled through her, shaking the warm peace of skin to skin.
“Shh, I’ve got you.”
Maybe he would be able to make them all go away. Keep all that past in the past. Nate wasn’t Dad. She wasn’t her mother. Nate wasn’t R.J. He wasn’t her brother-in-law. He wasn’t JoAnn’s ex. She shuddered at the memories of Reeves. She had no right to punish Nate because of the sins of the others.
She caught onto his shoulders. The kiss stayed unbroken as he moved over her and settled cradled between her legs, the weight of him soothing. They rocked slow and easy together as if they had all the time in the world, to the peace and rhythm of their breath and the creaking cot and the wash of water over the beach. His arousal rode leisurely against her, comforting in how he and she fit so neatly together. Here in this camp, this cot she understood how their lives fit together. She sighed and stroked her hands along his back, savoring the flex and strength of bone and muscle under the smooth, warm skin beneath her fingertips, and onward over his waist to hips.
Nate rolled his hips against her with a hungry groan, and he cupped her face between his hands. He deepened the kiss, and she drifted and drowned in the lush pleasure of touch and caress and kiss and taste.
“Kay,” he said, low and needing.
“Yes.” She lifted, urging him to take more, and she was wet and aching with want, needing him to fill her, hold her, and help her believe. This feeling of safety in his arms, the security of being claimed by him—Why couldn’t she just believe in this?
“Got to suit up,” he murmured before he drew away from her mouth. She could feel his smile. His weight left her, and the leaving felt like a loss.
As quickly, he returned. With caresses and kisses, he rolled them to their side, facing each other, and, lifting her leg to rest over his thigh, he slid home full and slow. Mouths, arms, legs, bodies twined and melded. Thrusts slow and deep, steady and sweet. Whispers of
yes
and
ah
and
there
and
more
. Skin dampened, breaths hurried, hearts pounded, bodies all demanding, yielding and yearning, reaching for the bright flight.
Her orgasm poured through her and sent her high and light and shivering in his arms. Still he filled her and withdrew, again and again, until finally, he seized and his gasps shifted to a sharp, relieved groan. They fell together and lay replete and damp, too drained to untangle bodies, or even to talk.
Talk. They still needed to talk. That fact wormed through her blissed-out brain, waking her to the fact of morning and day and problems.
“I love you, babe,” Nate murmured against her cheek, grazing her skin with lips and beard.
She burrowed close against his sweaty body, the rough hair of his chest rasping over her sensitive breasts, her leg locked around him, her body clenching, all a vain attempt to escape thinking, keeping him from sliding from her, as if that would keep the morning from moving on and reality from intruding.
Keeping yourself from bolting out of bed, more like it.
He tightened his arms around her, as if he’d read her mind and feared she’d fly away.
She needed to say something, her lack of a reply to his
I love you
far too obvious, but tears bit at her eyes and at the back of her throat.
Nate’s stomach rumbled hungrily.
“Want coffee?” Kay forced a chipper voice and released him, turning her face against his chest to keep him from seeing the straying tears as she pulled herself together.
He slipped from her body and sat up. His brows wrinkled. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, coffee sounds real good.”
Nate never raised her lack of reply, or the house, or the trip as they drank their coffee and washed up and dressed for breakfasting over at Spider Camp, but twice Kay almost told him she’d go, and then once, almost no, and the panic that set off nearly had her blurt “yes.”
Just talk to him
, the sensible brain cells she had active at the moment begged.
This is NATE. You can talk to him.
Doubt’s miserable voice piped up, sinking in its taunting barbs:
If you don’t trust him enough to talk to him, how can you marry him? Basing a marriage on twelve cumulative weeks of a summer affair spread over six years is sooo intelligent.
But she
did
know Nate. He talked about everything through his e-mails, calls, and letters. He was the least secretive person she knew and made her feel things she’d never felt before. She was almost certain what she was feeling was the love he found so easy.
He never mentioned love before. I’d say that was a big secret. Those quick “love ya’s” meant nothing more than when you say you love cherry ice cream. And if you loved him, you’d be sure, and you’re not. Right
?
She was so tired of this indecision. She should be able to choose, as she had chosen so many things in the past. Her house, her job, dinner at a restaurant, left or right, chocolate or vanilla. She was good at decisions. Why couldn’t she see the answer clearly now? She was a competent, mature adult. Decide and deal with it.
“Kay? Ready for breakfast?”
She shot him a bright smile. “Sure.” The nest of nightcrawlers reclaimed her stomach.
****
Nate was not in his happy place, despite the comfortable morning lovemaking. Kay was never going to say the words, was she? She gave her all, except her heart.
That damned R.J. hadn’t helped matters one damn bit.
Who hurt you, Kay? Why won’t you let me in and let me fix it?
He should have talked to her this morning, should have damned the torpedoes, ruffled the waters, and made her talk. But he wanted her to open up on her own, and though he kept waiting for the right moment, there just never seemed to be a right moment. He might have to wait until the drive to Idaho.
The folks of Spider Camp were not in their happy place either, when Nate and Kay arrived. R.J. was gone, taking April with him and stranding Olivia.
R.J. splitting was probably a good thing, as Nate had an alien and intense need to break the moron’s face with his fist.
Olivia grimly manned the camp stoves, looking exhausted, elegant, and tragic, cooking a mess of scrambled eggs and bacon. Mark and Margie were trying to help her with preparations and cheer her, bumbling around both tasks like eager puppies.
“Hi, Kay, Nate. Perfect timing. Eggs are just about done. Want to call everyone for me?” Olivia forced a tight, bright smile, spatula clenched defensively in her fist. Her eyes were puffy, red, and deeply shadowed. The ashtray held too many barely smoked and crushed butts.
JoAnn had indigestion and huddled in her beach chair, nibbling saltines and snapping at Lloyd, who was hovering worse than a nervous hummingbird.
Pippa sat at the table, damp tissues crumpled in both hands, engaged in a low-voiced, snapping conversation with Patti, livid with her friend April.
Over at Chuck’s boat, Dave, Christopher, and Chuck were peering inside the engine and, judging by the profane stream of curses, repairs were underway.
Scott and Rich had used their brains, escaped early, and gone fishing.
A subdued group gathered at the table, and Olivia fussed around until everyone’s plate was filled. JoAnn joined the table last, sitting as far upwind from the skillet of eggs as she could with a bowl of Cheerios.
Lloyd cleared his throat, glanced at JoAnn, and sipped at his coffee before speaking. “Jo and I, if you want, we’ll get you to the marina and safely on your way home.”
Olivia’s answer surprised them all. “Thanks, but I’m staying. This is my vacation and I’m going to enjoy it.” She laughed thinly. “Try, anyway. I won’t let him ruin it anymore, or anything else for that matter. I’m furious with him. Really. But…” She smoothed a hand over her hair and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. With her face free of makeup and hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, she looked years younger than she had over the past few days, despite the ravaging of tears. “I think he did me a favor. I needed a push. I’ve been hanging on, playing it safe, and I’ve been miserable. I’ve been afraid to take the risk. I’ve been afraid to be happy.”