Barefoot Summer (18 page)
And then, recently, there was Jade.
“You wrote those notes to my sister . . .”
He rolled to his side, shifting his weight to one elbow. “What notes?”
She’d read them herself. Had felt the sting of jealousy when she’d realized who they were from. The same sting of jealousy she’d felt when Beckett had shown up at their door the night of the Spring Sowers Banquet.
“I didn’t write any notes to your sister.”
Could it be true? She’d just assumed, when he’d shown up at the door in a suit coat, with a fistful of flowers for Jade . . .
Or . . .
had
he come for Jade?
She sucked in a breath, and everything inside froze. Her skin went hot as her eyes locked on his. She’d been in the bedroom changing clothes when he’d arrived. Jade had answered the door, and in light of the recent anonymous notes . . .
“You came for me,” she said. Another dot connected. “That’s why Jade was so upset that night.”
His lips parted and closed again. But he didn’t have to say anything. She saw the truth in the softening of his eyes. In the brief flicker of unease.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He brushed a stray hair from her face, and all thought ceased.
“I was afraid,” he said.
“Why?” she whispered.
Their gazes tangled and melded. She forgot the question, forgot everything but the desire reflected in the shadowed pools of his eyes.
He leaned forward and brushed her lips. Something unfurled slowly inside at his touch. Something warm and delicious, intoxicating.
He paused for the barest moment, his lips a breath away. She sensed a decision was being made, and her heart stopped, afraid he’d pull away. Or worse, apologize.
But he closed the gap, and her heart beat again, harder, faster.
“Maddy,” he whispered against her lips.
She cradled the back of his neck, and he deepened the kiss, drawing a sigh from the deepest part of her.
She’d wondered, over the years, if time had embellished the kiss. Or if adolescence had inflated the impact of his touch.
But no.
No.
It was just as she remembered. As if somehow, in this great big world, he was her perfect fit. The one who could make her feel like she really was on top of the world.
His hand burned through the material of her T-shirt as his lips worked their magic. How had she lived all these years without this? How had she worked so closely with him this summer without reclaiming this thing that felt like hers alone?
His jaw was pleasantly rough under the tender flesh of her palm, but she wanted more. She wove her fingers through his hair, down his neck, searched the planes of his shoulders, staking claim.
A moment later he ended the kiss. Their breaths came in shallow puffs. Her eyes clung to his as he pulled away, but he was so hard to read.
“Mercy, woman.”
It wasn’t just her. A smile tugged her lips as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“You’re right about this place,” she said. “I feel better already.”
He smiled.
She suddenly thought of Drew and the sympathy kiss she’d given him Friday. Just as quickly, she pushed the thought away, unwilling to tarnish the moment. The exit of adrenaline had left her pleasantly languid.
Beckett’s eyes left hers, scoping out the sky, and he squeezed her hand. “It’s getting dark.”
The sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving the once-vibrant clouds ashen blue. Twilight had dropped its curtain on the final act.
He gave her a hand up, and she followed him across the gentle slope of the rock. Descending the rock tower was slower than the ascent, and twice he caught her at the waist and lifted her down. Each time she braced her hands against his shoulders and hoped there’d be another kiss, and soon.
D
ARKNESS WAS FALLING FAST, THE TRAIL BECOMING DIFFICULT
to follow in the fading light. Beckett slowed the pace to accommodate, his thoughts rehashing the previous hour. He hadn’t meant to kiss Madison. Had only taken her up the hill to soothe the sadness in her eyes.
But then he’d said too much and she’d figured it out, that night with Jade. He hadn’t known how she’d respond, but then that look came into her eyes . . . There’d been no stopping things after that. The boulder had been pushed down the hill, and there was only one place for it to go.
He wasn’t sorry either. How could he be? He tightened his hand on hers as he held back a low-hanging branch for her. Almost back now, and good thing, because he could barely see the ground.
Moments later, when they stepped from the woods, Beckett offered her a ride home. In the quiet of the cab, he wondered what she was thinking. Had she come back down to earth?
Was she thinking about Drew Landon? Beckett was. He was wondering if the doctor had kissed her. If she’d responded the same way to him. And he was wondering other things too, like if she regretted Beckett’s kiss.
She was still Madison McKinley after all, and he was Beckett O’Reilly, son of the town drunk and worse things she wasn’t aware of.
He pushed the thought away. He wasn’t going to think about that, about any of it. If he could be fortunate enough to hold Madison in his arms, he wasn’t going to regret or second-guess it. He was going to enjoy it.
When they arrived at her house, he walked her to the door. Darkness had fallen completely, and the cicadas had begun their nightly chorus. She opened the front door, flipping on the porch light, and Lulu bounded out like Madison had been gone a year, making them laugh.
“Go potty,” Madison told her, and the collie trotted down the porch steps and into the yard.
Madison pocketed her keys, crossed her arms. Then uncrossed them and leaned against the screen door. The look on her face reminded him of their hours in the creek, when her fear had made her vulnerable. She was a strong woman. He loved her for that.
Love?
The word streaked across the path of his thoughts like lightning across a stormy sky. He watched her now, watching Lulu, watching a moth flutter under the porch light, looking anywhere but at him, and sudden warmth flooded through him, making his knees weak.
Yes, he loved her.
He’d tried not to. But now here he was. On her porch, watching her watching a moth, and realizing he was the moth and she the light. It would always be this way.
A certainty surged through him, strengthening him. He placed his palm against the door above her shoulder.
Flecks of gold danced in her wide brown eyes as they met his.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
A lock of hair had fallen over her delicate brows, and he ached
to brush it back. Even more, he ached to feel her lips on his again, to feel her respond so unabashedly.
“Thoughtful,” she corrected.
He wasn’t sure of the difference and didn’t much care. He drew in a breath of her—fresh air and honeysuckle. He was noticing her perfect little nose, the way it tapered down to her sweet, rosy lips. And suddenly he wanted to taste them again more than he could say.
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
She returned his gaze. “I’m going to let you.”
He leaned in and collected on the promise. Her lips were soft as a butterfly’s wings and warm as the heat flooding his limbs. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he pulled her closer, loving the way she fit against him. The way she felt so small and delicate in his arms. He wondered if she could feel his rapid pulse.
A car turned into the drive next door, gravel crunching. The headlights swooped across the porch.
He pulled back, and a moment later the engine shut off. A car door slammed shut, then another and another. Voices carried across the yard, kids, their words indistinguishable.
“The Waverlys,” she said. Her hand slipped down to his chest.
“They have bad timing.”
Her lips twitched. “Yeah.”
“Hi, Miss McKinley!” A kid of about five or six waved, and Lulu went to collect some attention.
“Hello, Oliver,” Madison said.
Beckett took pride in the breathless quality of her voice.
“I lost a tooth,” the boy said.
“Be sure and put it under your pillow.”
“Come along, Oliver,” his mom said. “Sorry!” She gave
Madison and Beckett a droll grin and ushered the kids up the porch steps.
A baby cried out, a light came on, and Beckett heard the fumbling of the family as they funneled into the house.
Lulu trotted up Madison’s porch and wedged between them, her backside wagging. Madison set her hand on the dog’s head.
Beckett stepped back, hating the loss of her touch. “I should go. We both have early mornings.”
“Thanks for showing me your hideaway.”
“You’re welcome back anytime.”
“I might take you up on that.”
He hadn’t even left, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. “Come over tomorrow night.”
“I have rehearsal.”
“Afterward. A late supper. I’ll order pizza.”
He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until her answer slipped through her lips. “All right.”
He drove home in a daze. He could hardly remember what day it was, and couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d held Madison McKinley in his arms, and it had felt right.
Right? Merciful heavens, it had felt perfect. He could never go back to dating Cara Meyers or Jessie Brooks or any other woman again—not that there was anything wrong with them. It’s just—he was . . .
In love, O’Reilly?
Oh yeah. Totally and thoroughly. And though the realization loosened a thread of trepidation, it was overwhelmed by all the good stuff bursting open inside. Joy and satisfaction and bliss. Bliss, a good word for it. He was downright heady at Madison’s response.
He pulled into his drive and got out. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He didn’t care how late rehearsals lasted or how much sleep he missed. She was like oxygen to him.
He didn’t notice the house lights were on until he was on the stoop. The faint sound of the TV filtered through the windowpanes. He never left lights on, and he hadn’t turned on the TV after work.
Beckett twisted the doorknob and Rigsby barreled into his legs, but he didn’t look at the dog. All he saw was the back of the plaid chair, the head of thinning gray hair, and the three amber bottles on the floor at his side.
All the good feelings inside settled into a pool of sludge as the chair swiveled around, knocking over the bottles in a series of pings.
“’Bout time you got home.”
Beckett shut the door, a weight pressing hard on his shoulders. “Hi, Dad.”
M
ADISON CARRIED THE LAST CHART TO THE FRONT DESK
and jotted a note about the aggressive cocker spaniel. The dog didn’t seem to like anyone except her mommy. A problem, with seven-month-old twins crawling around her house. The nearest trainer was quite a drive, but Madison promised to get back to the dog’s owner with a list of recommended books.
“Okay, what gives?” Cassidy said.
Madison continued writing. “What do you mean?”
“Come on. I’m wearing a new shade of lipstick—and it’s pretty hot, if I do say so myself—I spilled iced latte on your office rug, my hair has gotten bigger with every moment of this humid day, and you haven’t noticed any of it.”
“There’s a stain on my Persian rug?”
Cassidy cocked her head, crossing her arms.
So she’d been a little distracted. Madison had been on autopilot today, treating infections and allergies, giving vaccines and potty training tips. She’d been up half the night, wondering if Beckett would call, anticipating tonight. It felt like high school all over again.
Cassidy cleared her throat. All that was missing was the tapping foot.
Her lipstick
was
nice, a shade of rose that set off her beautiful skin. Madison’s gaze traveled up several inches to the hair. “Oh my goodness.”
Cassidy scowled. “Don’t change the subject. What’s going on with you today?”
Madison caught her lip between her teeth. In the grand scheme of things, she was surprised she’d made it all day.
“He kissed me, all right?”
Cassidy smiled coyly. “Well, it’s about time . . .”
“Um, not Drew. Beckett.”
Cassidy’s brows popped. “Oh!”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Cassidy propped her chin on her palm. “Hmmm. Not entirely unexpected.”
“It was unexpected to me.”
“Well, you’re somewhat oblivious in that department.”
“Hey.”
Cassidy lifted her shoulders. “Just saying. So, do I get any details or are you going to keep it all to yourself?”
Madison smiled. “All to myself.”
“Be that way. Just remember, when you’re a couple years out in a stagnant relationship, see if I offer you a little vicarious romance.”
Madison thought Cassidy and Stew were great together. “Stagnant?”
Cassidy waved her away. “Bad choice of words. So what are you going to do about Drew? He really likes you.”
Madison winced. They’d only gone out a few times, but they’d seen a lot of each other because of rehearsals.
“It was only one kiss,” Madison said. “And Drew and I are hardly exclusive . . .”
“But . . .”
Cassidy could see right through her. “But I really like Beckett.”
Regardless of what came next, her heart was too full of Beckett to date anyone else. It was frightful how many times she’d reviewed not only his kiss, but his words.
“Remember that dance back in high school—when Beckett kissed me?”
“Of course.”
She gave Cassidy a meaningful look. “He remembers what I was wearing.”
Cassidy sighed, a dreamy smile curving her lips. “No wonder you’ve been walking around in a fog all day.”
“Yeah.”
