Page 83 of Wild Eyes
I can’t help but laugh now. “It was hot as hell while it lasted, though, wasn’t it?”
She agrees without hesitation. “It was hot as hell.”
“I’m glad you can swim.”
She scoffs at me. “I’m gladyoucan swim. Can you imagine if I had to drag your heavy ass to shore? Let’s get outta here.”
With that, she takes a deep breath and drops out from under the canoe. I follow her, and when we resurface, the night around us feels downright bright compared to the blacked-out cover we came from.
“I got the boat. You just get to shore.”
Another scoff. She swims to the other side of the canoe. “It’ll be easier if we do it together.”
I swallow, doing my best not to overthink that sentence. I do a lot alone, and I try not to let myself think too much about how nice it would be to have someone around. Instead, I focus on the complications that would come with it.
With Skylar, the complications don’t feel so complicated.
We don’t talk as we flip the canoe back over; we work in unison without even trying. Swimming it back to shore, wet clothes drape heavily from our limbs.
Based on the heavy silence that takes over, I may have mauled Skylar Stone for the first and last time tonight. I had my hands all over her and now she’s struggling to do her bra clasp back up.
“Here, let me.” I step around the canoe on the shore and gesture for her to face away from me.
Her wide eyes catch on mine and she slowly turns away, using both hands to gather her hair over one shoulder. I slideone hand up her back, starting at the waist of her jean shorts, fingers pushing beneath the heavy cotton of her tee.
A shiver wracks her body as my fingers slide up the column of her spine. But we both know it’s not cold out. “You don’t have to do this.”
She goes to step away, but my free hand juts out, gripping her hip to keep her close. “I undid it, only seems fair I put it back where I found it.”
All I get in return is a nod. My second hand joins the first under her shirt and I make quick work of the clasp. Still, I find myself out of breath by the time I finish.
“Thanks,” she whispers, glancing at me over her shoulder with a million questions swimming in her eyes.
“Of course. This way.” I nudge my chin to the left along the shoreline as we lift the canoe in tandem, leading us back over the rough sand in bare feet. Luckily, we spent more time floating than rowing and didn’t make it too far from my property.
We move at an unhurried pace, picking our way around large rocks and logs. Both lost to our own thoughts, we don’t talk. She hisses a couple of times when the going gets rough on bare feet. But it’s followed by a quick, “I’m fine!” or “Just keep going.”
So I do. And when we get back to the tree where Ollie likes to sit, I stop for a beat to stare at it, to let us catch our breath. And yet, my chest tightens.
Just like she seems to have done every moment until now, Skylar sees straight through the break. “It’ll be nice to have him back tomorrow.”
I suck in a sharp breath, caught off guard by the way she plucked the thought from my head. Over my shoulder, I peek back at her. The silvery moonlight highlights the bow at the top of her lips as they curve into a soft smile.
The mention of tomorrow makes me realize we need to talk. Especially after what just happened on the boat. The things we did. The things I said.
So I tip my head, gesturing that we put the canoe down here. It’ll be fine wedged up against the embankment for the night, and it’ll give me a good reason to take the kids out fishing tomorrow afternoon. Spend some quality time out on the water with them.
God knows after that intense, sudden pang of missing them, I’ll probably do anything they want.
With the boat stashed, we shove our feet back into our shoes where we left them on the shore, and I lead Skylar to the short path up to the sloping lawn.
I count to ten before I decide to say something. I don’t often struggle to find words—it’s usually more about struggling to shut up—but this woman has me off-kilter in the most unfamiliar way.
Then, all at once, we both speak.
“So, about tomorr?—”
“I think we should?—”
