Midnight Lily (Signs of Love) (8 page)

"By the way," he said after a minute, taking me from my reverie, "even though you
weren't
wondering, the answer to the question about me having hordes of women—all three that is, waiting for me back home—the answer is no. And as far as wanting to kiss you, the answer is yes. A definite yes. And as to whether or not I find you stunningly beautiful, that answer is yes, too. I know you don't care, I know you're
not
wondering, but just so I get it off my chest. It's been a tough burden to bear alone." He grinned a crooked grin but stuffed his free hand in his pocket, and a slight flush colored his cheekbones. I couldn't help grinning back. I felt giddy again and warm and vibrantly
alive
for the first time in so very long.

When I looked back at Holden a few minutes later, though, he looked deep in thought. I could hear the soft rush of water nearby. We'd almost arrived at the stream. "I want to tell you all about my life, Lily, the things that brought me here, but I want to tell you when I've cleaned some of it up. I know it probably seems like I'm talking in code, and I'm sorry about that."

The look on his face was so troubled, so somber. I nodded. "It's okay. I already said I trust you." Holden smiled and yanked my hand so I was walking right next to him, his body touching mine and the mood seemed to lighten immediately. We walked through the trees and came out on the bank of the stream. He let go of my hand.

"So where is your fishing pole?"

"Over here." I had left my fishing pole leaning against a rock formation on the other side of the stream. To get there I jumped across the water from one rock to the next—about six—landing on the mossy shore on the opposite side of the stream. Turning around, I saw that Holden was still standing on the other side, looking dubiously at the rocks I'd just used for steppingstones. "Come on. It's easy," I called.

Holden took a deep breath and then stepped tentatively on the first rock, balancing both feet there as he judged the distance to the next one. "You have to do it quickly," I said. "If you don't you'll—"

I sucked in a breath and brought my empty hand up to my mouth, trying not to howl with laughter as Holden fell face first into the water. He came up sputtering and flapping his arms and I couldn't help it. I doubled over, holding my stomach. "Okay, so you're no athlete," I said through my laughter. Holden pulled himself up slowly, coming to his full height, his shirt and jeans molded to his body in a way that made the hilarity die in my throat. I swallowed, letting out a few last coughs of laughter.

"You set me up." He narrowed his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression. He wasn't really mad.

I shook my head. "No, I swear, I didn't. I thought you would make it. I'll just grab . . . this," I said, picking up my fishing pole, "and come to your side." Holden took the few steps in the thigh-high water and pulled himself onto the bank. He shook his head like a dog and then looked up at me and grinned.

"Get over here," he called. I hopped easily from rock to rock and landed on the shore next to him. "Show off," he muttered. "You know usually
I'm
the one who excels at everything. Being with you has been a very humbling experience, let me tell you."

"Maybe you needed one, Holden Scott, God Among Men," I said, laughing a bit more.

He chuckled. "You're probably right." He started slowly peeling his shirt off and I stepped back. "This was your master plan, wasn't it? To set me up to fall in the stream so I'd have to strip off my wet clothes?"

I shook my head, my mouth suddenly going dry. "No, no. Really, that's not—" He pulled the wet piece of material over his head and my eyes slid down his bare chest to his ridged stomach and then back up as his shirt came off completely. He was too skinny, but his muscles were defined and his shape very masculine. Broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist and his jeans looked as if they were barely holding on to his slim hips.

Feeling off balance in a way I wasn't used to at all—and not knowing how to act next to a beautifully half-naked man—I turned and walked on unsure legs to a fallen tree trunk on the bank of the stream where I usually sat when I fished. It was in a bright patch of sunlight and at the perfect spot right in front of a fishing hole. I bent forward and dug in the soft mud at the edge of the stream for a worm, spearing it quickly on the hook once I found one. I cast my line into the water just as Holden sat down next to me.

I kept my eyes focused on the water for a few minutes, finally braving a glance at him. He had his face tilted up to the sun and his eyes were closed. I allowed myself a moment to admire him, the light bringing out the gold in his hair and in the very slight scruff on his face. He must not have shaved today. I let my eyes drink in the strong, masculine lines of his jaw and cheekbone, my gaze resting on his well-shaped lips, slightly parted, his expression one of peaceful contentment. My eyes wandered down to his naked torso and I stared at his smooth, tanned chest, resisting the instinct that urged me to reach out and run my hand down his stomach and back up to the male contours of his shoulders and arms.

A slight breeze rustled the trees and the rushing sound of the stream lent a soothing background song, as a whippoorwill called to his mate incessantly in a nearby tree. When Holden's eyes suddenly opened, I startled slightly and looked back to the water. "Repetitive sucker, isn't he?" Holden asked, nodding to the bird sound coming from right behind us.

I smiled. "They go on for hours sometimes. The males are very persistent when they want a female."

"Is that what that is? His mating call?"

I nodded, setting the fishing pole in a small hole in the trunk we were sitting on, propping it up.

"Want me to hold that?" Holden asked.

I shook my head. "There's no need to hold it. I usually just put it here next to me. I'll grab it if there's a tug." I glanced at him, and he was looking at me with a small smile on his lips.

"As for the whippoorwill, yes, that's his mating call."

"Will she answer him?"

"Eventually, I suppose. Or maybe she's not interested in that particular whippoorwill. Perhaps she doesn't want to be part of his
horde
. All three that is."

The corner of Holden's lip quirked up and there was a twinkle in his eye as he tilted his head and said, "A persistent fellow like him? Nah, I thought all women liked persistent."

I made a small snorting sound. "Perhaps you don't know as much about women as you believe." I gave him a teasing look.
Or maybe you know way too much.

Holden laughed. "I'm beginning to think you might be right." He tilted his head back up to the sun. "This is nice, peaceful."

Yes it was. Even sitting here with him for the first time felt very right, natural. "I know. I come here as often as possible in the summer."

"Alone?"

"Yes, yes, alone."

"Doesn't your mother ever come with you?"

I looked at him sharply, but when he didn't withdraw his question, I sighed, already weary of the tit for tat. It was too much work. "No, my mother doesn't come outside very often. She . . . well, she was injured years ago, and she stays in."

"Injured—"

"What about you? Do your parents live in San Francisco, too?"

Holden paused, his blue eyes lingering on my face for a few moments before he looked out to the water. "No, I'm originally from Ohio, but both my parents have passed."

I watched his profile again as he stared forward, that sad look of loss on his face that he'd had when he told me about his friend, Ryan.

I reached out and put my hand on his thigh, and his gaze jerked down to where my hand touched him. "I'm sorry, Holden. I know what it's like to feel lonely." I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I shouldn't have said that.

His eyes met mine and though there were questions in his, he simply grasped my hand. "Thank you."

Something electric filled the air, sizzling through the ozone the way lightning does right before it flashes across the sky in a sudden, thrilling arc of intense light. I pulled my hand away and stood up quickly. "Want to see a quicker way of fishing than waiting for a fish to bite the worm?"

Holden laughed. "Yes. Show me."

I removed my boots and my socks and hiked my dress up, tying it in a knot at the side of my thighs. I began wading into the shallow water and when I looked laughingly back at Holden, his gaze on me was intent and filled with something I couldn't define. Something that looked
hungry.
He looked down to my bare legs and back to my eyes. I swallowed, but brought my finger up to my lips, instructing him to stay very quiet. Then I stood very still in the water, which was just brushing the bottom of my tied-up dress. I didn't move a muscle as I tracked the movement of the fish that swam by my legs, two large trout. In a lightning-swift move, I plunged both hands in the water and made a sound of dismay as I came up empty-handed. Focusing again, I stood still for a long, quiet minute, my eyes again tracking the slippery, silvery bodies of the fish moving past me. Again, I plunged my hands into the water, reaching just slightly in front of where the fish I was tracking swam, laughing out loud when the fish slipped right past my grasp. I jumped to the side as another one swam next to me, again coming up empty-handed. Holden was laughing on the shore. "Have you ever actually caught one like that?" he called.

"Not yet, but I will before this summer is over," I said, laughing back. He grinned at me, and my heart skipped at least three beats in a row. This was the first time I'd seen him looking genuinely carefree and happy, the small lines between his eyes completely smoothed out. When I realized I was simply standing there staring at him, I turned back, looking down to the water again. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Holden walk to the edge of the water. I looked over to see him rolling up his still-wet jeans. He waded in next to me.

For the next fifteen minutes, we tried in vain to grab a trout, both doing ridiculous-looking little hops as fish darted by. Once I almost face-planted in the water, and Holden grabbed me as we both laughed, his arms staying around me for a beat too long as my breath caught and our eyes met.

"Last try," he said. I nodded. We stood still and silent. Suddenly Holden's hands plunged into the water and when he brought them out, a fat trout was wiggling in his hands. I gasped, my mouth falling open. Holden rose slowly to his full height, letting out a small shout.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, grinning wildly at Holden, the flailing fish finally stilling in his hands. "I can't believe you just did that."

"I can honestly say I can't either," he said, shaking his head, a look of awed disbelief on his face.

"Beginner's luck," I mumbled, trying to sound displeased. But it came out breathy and impressed. I
was
impressed. "Or maybe you have experience and didn't tell me."

He laughed. "How long did you say
you'd
been doing this?" There was boasting amusement in his tone and I rolled my eyes.

Placing the fish in the plastic bag I'd laid down next to my fishing pole earlier, he chuckled and then returned to the stream to rinse his hands. I bent down next to him and washed my own, a wave of insecurity suddenly coming over me. We had just gone fishing with our bare hands on what was a sort of date. He'd participated, but he must have thought I was some sort of heathen or cave girl—or foolish little kid. That's it, this was him re-living his childhood with me. Ugh. I was sure those girls I'd seen dancing on the deck would never do something like this. They'd probably think it was gross. When I came back to the log he had already returned to, I shrugged self-consciously. "Too long. Obviously I have far too much time on my hands." I attempted a self-deprecating laugh, but it sounded sort of strange and choked.

"Hey, don't be mad because I'm naturally better at it than you."

I whipped my head toward him and saw that he was teasing me. He winked, looking so happy that I couldn't help but to laugh again, the self-consciousness that had come over me, melting away. I shook my head. Holden leaned forward and scratched his ankle and I noticed his back. I bent forward and touched his skin gingerly and he sat up quickly, his eyes meeting mine.

"You have so many scars," I said.

He smiled a tight smile. "My job isn't easy on my body. I've been injured more times than I can count."

"Your job . . . " I sat back down next to him, frowning slightly, wondering what in the world that could be. He nodded his head to the ground at my feet.

"What are you reading?" he asked, obviously changing the subject.

Glancing in the direction he was looking, I saw the edge of the book of poems peeking out of my backpack. I shrugged. "Oh, nothing," I said, using my foot to push my bag closed.

"Nothing? That looked like a book to me. What? Is it a tawdry romance novel or something?"

I laughed. "No. Just . . . a book of poems."

"You like poetry?"

I could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of my face and felt the color moving up my neck to my cheeks. Something about him knowing about my love of poetry felt very personal. "Yes," I said softly. "I do."

"Can I see?"

I hesitated briefly, but couldn't think of a good reason to tell him no. Plucking the book from my backpack, I held it in his direction without looking at him. He took it from my hand and was silent for a moment. "Romantic poetry." I heard him flip through it and then stop as he read to himself. My curiosity too great, I couldn't help but look over and see which poem he'd stopped on.