She's Got a Way (22 page)

She sighed. Here she was, staring down her thirtieth birthday, and yet she felt like a thirteen-year-old with a summer-camp crush. And as much as she wished she could head out for a hike, or just hide in her tent, or maybe even grab a paddle and disappear for the day in a canoe, she had to face the day.

And that meant she had to face Luke.

She took a deep breath, bundled up her swimsuit and towel, and headed out the door, only to run smack into the very person she'd been hoping to avoid for at least a little bit longer.

“Oof!” she huffed as she slammed into him.

He grabbed her upper arms, steadying her, an amused smile on his face, but distance in his eyes. Dammit.

“Little distracted this morning, Gabi?”

She felt her cheeks go red. “Just didn't expect anyone to be skulking outside the bathroom door, thank you.”

“I wasn't skulking. I was walking
by
the bathroom when you barreled through the door.”

“I did not barrel. I
do
not barrel.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes as he slid his hands free. “You were the epitome of grace. I apologize for suggesting otherwise.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you have a nice swim?” He pointed at her beach towel.

“Yup. But does this lake ever get above freezing? Just curious?”

“It's usually tolerable by late August, yes.”

“Fantastic. We'll be gone by then.”

The words fell out of her mouth before she considered their implication, in relation to their time together last night, and she didn't think it was her imagination that his mouth tightened as she spoke.

“I know, Gabi.” He shook his head. “I know.”

“Are you … regretting your challenge?” She forced the words out, sensing a chill in his tone, needing to know where she stood before the girls got up and she had to face Sam's accusatory face.

He ran a hand through his hair, not meeting her eyes. “Yes and no.”

“That's helpful.”

“Are
you
regretting it?” He looked at her finally.

“Well, I am right now, since it looks like you'd rather have a poker to the eye than spend one more minute in my presence.”

He smiled sadly. “Not true. I'm just—I don't know. I think maybe we weren't necessarily thinking clearly.”

“Ah.” She fought the tremble that almost immediately hit her chin. Even at age almost-thirty, rejection still sucked.

“It's not you, Gabi.”

“Omigod, are you serious? Did you just say that?”

He closed his eyes. “Sorry. I know.”

“Okay. Well.” She took a deep breath, looked around, not knowing what to say. “I should … go.” Then a nervous laugh burbled out. “But I can't … go. There's nowhere
to
go. I'm stuck. You're stuck. We're … stuck. This is stupid.”

“You're babbling.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He reached up to touch her face, and she tried to back up, but couldn't. “It's really, really not you.”

“And yet, after one kiss?”

“After one kiss, I didn't sleep a wink, okay? Does that make you feel better?” He pulled his hand back, sighing as he stared out at the water. “I don't do … this, Gabi.”

She tipped her head. “By
this,
you mean—”

“I don't do the casual thing. And as much as I could easily have taken you inside last night and kept you awake all night—as much as I
wanted
to—we both know that in the end, we'd just be making an epic mistake.”

“Oh.” Gabi crossed her arms. “Well, gosh, when you put it that way.”

“That's not—bad word choice—sorry.” He shook his head, reaching for her, but she backed out of reach.

“No, really.” She put up a hand, and dammit, she could feel tears prick behind her eyes. No way could she let him see that. “I've never been someone's epic mistake. Not really interested in changing that, so thank you.”

“Gabi, that's not what I meant. I just mean—shit. I don't know what I mean right now. You've got my head tied up in knots.”

“If it's any consolation, I didn't go to your cabin last night with some sort of evil plan to seduce you.”

“I know. I'm … sorry. And I'm not sorry.” He sighed. “I just don't want you to have regrets.”

“Me? Or
you
?”

“I don't want either of us to have regrets, but I assume you're the one who'd be more likely to suffer them, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because be honest, Gabi.” He swept his arm around the woodsy area. “I'm sorry I issued a stupid challenge. This isn't really your world, slumming at a rustic camp. And I imagine it's not really your habit to go slumming with camp employees, either.”

Gabi felt her eyes go wide. One hand crossed her middle, while the other went to her throat. Had he really just said that?

The psychology major in her suspected what he might be doing here—striking out and disengaging first, before she had a chance to do it herself—but knowing it and hearing it aimed directly at her were two very different things.

“I see.” Her voice was quiet as she nodded slowly.

“It's just—listen. We've got, what, only weeks left here? And then you go back to your Briarwood life, right? This camp thing isn't your reality, and I'm a little old to be someone's summer-camp romance. I'm definitely too old to be someone's one-night stand.”

“Because you think that's all you could be?”

“I don't know. But I
do
know you're tired, you're vulnerable, you're scared, and you're so far out of your normal element that you're kissing a practical stranger.”

He crossed his arms, and she felt cold envelop her. “I don't want you to end up resenting me because I took advantage of that.”

*   *   *

“Luke! Help! Help me!” Katrina's voice pierced the night air as flames crackled. “Get me out!”

Luke looked up at the second-floor window where his little sister screamed, eyes widening when he saw flames licking out of the window in the next bedroom. There was no time. No time.

There was no ladder, either, and the tree next to the house was too far away. But maybe, if he prayed hard enough and stretched far enough, he could climb it and get her to jump to him. He'd catch her. He knew he would. Yeah, he was a no-good sixteen-year-old, but he could at least do that.

He started climbing the tree, her screams getting louder and louder. But for every branch he conquered, another seemed to grow, and no matter how long he flailed, and how high he climbed, he couldn't get closer.

The flames got hotter, licked at the tree, caught, and now he could only see little Katrina through fire. He climbed faster, felt his breaths coming shorter and harder, but still, he couldn't get to her.

“Trina! Hold on! I'm coming! Jump for the tree!” he called, but his voice was hoarse, and her screams were getting softer as smoke filled the air.

“Don't breathe in! Jump, Trina! Jump!” The grass was soft. Maybe she'd break a leg or something, but at least she wouldn't be dead.

He kept climbing, kept climbing, kept climbing, but the tree mocked him. Branches popped out of nowhere, thrusting themselves in his face as he went hand over hand, struggling upward.

And then there was no sound but the flames, and he panicked.

“Trina! Trina!”

*   *   *

“Luke. Luke, honey.” He felt his shoulder being jostled gently the next morning. “Luke, wake up. It's okay. You're okay. Just a dream.”

Piper's voice stabbed at him from outside the dream, and he opened one bleary eye, completely discombobulated to see her hovering over his couch.

“You okay?” Her voice was soft, concerned, as he struggled to shake the dream and sit up. “What was it this time?”

“Fire.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hated the fire dream the most of all of them. That damn tree with its branches, the smoke, the crackle of flames. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Damn. What time is it?”

“Six. I just came to drop off some cinnamon buns from Mama B. She said you hadn't been in to get any in a week, and she was concerned you were melting away to nothing.”

He tried to smile, tried to force the dream back into submission. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Luke?”

He shook his head. “Please don't ask me if I think I should see somebody about this. I
am
a somebody, and there's nothing that will stop the dreams.”

They'd been suddenly worse since Sam's incident, and it didn't take a psychologist to figure the reasons for
that
one out. Plus, the more exhausted he was, the more vulnerable to them he seemed to be. And right now, he was dead tired.

After he and Gabi had parted at the bathroom yesterday morning, Luke had spent the entire day feeling like a complete shmuck for accusing her of slumming. He'd seen the words hit hard, but they'd already done their damage before he could pull them back. He'd reached for her, and she'd put up a hand, walking toward the tent like she couldn't possibly be in his presence for one more moment.

She'd taken the girls, despite the plans they'd made, and had steered clear of him all day. At nine o'clock, she'd headed into the tent, and despite his hope that maybe she'd appear on the pathway … that maybe he'd figure out how to apologize by the time she did, she'd never appeared.

He was an idiot to have said what he did, and he was ashamed of himself for purposely hurting her. He just hadn't figured out what to do about it yet.

“What about Josie? Maybe she could help?” Piper's voice brought him back to the present.

“No. I don't need—I don't want help. Someday they'll go away. Or they won't, and that's my cross to bear. I deserve it. I couldn't save her, Piper, and I was the only one left in her life who gave a damn enough to try. There's no therapist who'll ever be able to exorcise that demon.”

 

Chapter 21

An hour later, Gabi folded herself into her favorite Adirondack chair, pulling up her knees and zipping her sweatshirt around her. The usual morning mist was just lifting from the lake, and the usual loons were making their usual last calls, but this morning, it didn't relax her. Instead, it all made her even edgier than she'd woken up feeling.

Yesterday, Gabi had taken the girls up to the garden after breakfast, knowing she needed to steer clear of Luke at all costs. They'd hoed, they'd raked, and they'd whined, but by the end of the day, that garden had been almost ready for planting.

So much for turning the girls over to him. One day later, here she was, trying to figure out how to get through the rest of their time here without things being completely awkward.

His words from yesterday still haunted her, and as much as she wanted to be furious at him, she was more mystified. She knew damn well he'd enjoyed that kiss as much as she had. And she knew
damn
well that neither of them had been anxious to back off when Sam had shown up and thrown a proverbial bucket of ice over the scene.

But yesterday morning, for whatever reason, he'd tossed his own bucket, and she had no idea what to do about it except to stay away from him as much as possible until she figured it out. Meanwhile, she kept torturing herself by replaying the scene in her mind. And as much as she tried to convince herself she'd made a big fat mistake in kissing him in the first place, she knew that if she got a do-over, she'd probably do it again in a heartbeat.

She closed her eyes, reliving the most perfect half hour she'd ever spent—his hands tenderly roaming, his lips turning her into a quivering wreck, his tongue gentle and demanding at the same time.

“Morning.”

Gabi's eyes popped open as Luke's voice preceded the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. He set a mug down on the arm of her chair, then sat heavily in the matching one. She looked at him quickly, not sure whether to be relieved or amused that he looked like … well, hell. If he knew what she'd just been thinking, it'd be even worse, she was sure.

“Are you all right, Luke?”

“Yep.” He took a healthy glug of his coffee, wincing as it went down. “Nope.”

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she opted to sip her coffee and wait him out instead. Why was he here? Bringing coffee, even?

Yes, it had sort of become their habit, but still. Awkward.

“I need to apologize, Gabi.” He still didn't look at her.

“For?”

“One—for kissing you, and two—for making you feel like shit about it.”

“Oh. Just that.”

He looked at her sidelong. “Yeah, just that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like … well, however you ended up feeling. I am a certifiable schmuck.”

Gabi took a deep breath. “How I ended up
feeling,
Luke, is that because I arrived in a BMW van, you've somehow got it in your head that I must act and think in a prescribed manner that couldn't possibly end up working in your favor.”

“I know.”

“Do you have any idea what my annual income is?”

“No, and it's none of my business. Also, it's completely irrelevant.”

“I don't think it is.” She took another sip of her coffee, mostly as a delay tactic. “Because it's all I
do
make. I'm not putting in time at a cushy private school so I can feel good about my contribution to society, then move on to spend the rest of my years chairing fundraisers and pretending to give a hoot about popular causes I know nothing about.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? How could you?” She felt her cheeks heat up. “I really don't think you do, actually. I think you've got it in your head that because I grew up coddled, I couldn't possibly have a brain cell in my head devoted to anything besides myself.”