Sweet Talk Me (28 page)

“I got it on Craigslist,” Harrison said. “It was a banged-up piece of junk, but I loved it.”

“Even so, the guitar playin’ was pretty good,” said Cornelius. “But then he open his mouth to sing, and he scared all the dogs away. They haven’t come back around to this day.”

True looked around. “There really aren’t any dogs!”

“That’s because Cornelius is allergic to ’em,” Harrison said. “And I’m honored that I’m the subject of one of his tall tales.”

Cornelius laughed until he had to wipe away a tear. True joined in. Harrison took advantage and stole the last piece of catfish.

It was a great lunch.

“Come back again, True,” their host told her at his front door when they were leaving. “When you become Mrs. Waring, you can bring your husband with you.”

“I will,” she promised in a very sweet, polite voice.

Harrison heard the slight strain. He knew—and she knew—that visiting old men in tiny shacks wasn’t something Dubose Waring would ever go out of his way to do—not unless he had to collect a deposition.

“As for
you
”—Cornelius punched Harrison in the arm—“am I gonna see you at this wedding?”

There was a split-second pause.

“Of course you will,” True said, then looked at Harrison. “He’s been like a brother to me while Dubose is gone. It was his idea to seek you out, and I’ll always be grateful that he did.”

Dang. What a bummer. It looked as if he and True had officially gotten over their torrid past. He’d achieved brother status in her eyes.

Cornelius grinned at him. “Well, that’s good you stickin’ around. I won’t have to wait another ten years.”

God, that was a long time. Harrison had been a really bad friend. “It won’t be so long next time.”

And it wouldn’t. He’d come to see Gage a lot more often. Although the prospect of being in the same town with the new Mrs. Waring held no appeal.

After one more hug, he turned his back on his favorite fiddle player and headed out with True to the dock.

“The tide’s at a standstill,” Cornelius called after them. “Enjoy!”

“We will!” Harrison threw him a little salute.

“Bye, Cornelius!” True waved wildly. She even jumped up and down, as if she couldn’t get enough of seeing him one last time.

“Bye, young lady! Hey, Harrison?”

“Yes, sir?

“It’s not too late to steal her away, you know. And I’d play at your wedding for
free
.”

“You old dog!” Harrison yelled.

Cornelius let loose with his trademark cackle.

When Harrison looked at True a second later, she’d settled down quicker than bubbles in a can of flat ginger ale. She was standing with her board, ready to put it in the water.

“You ready?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said in a small, tight voice. She knew it. She knew marrying Dubose was all wrong for her.

She knew Harrison knew, too. But there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

True thought the visit with Cornelius had gone really well, except for that little pause he’d made when she said she was marrying Dubose. And then at the end—sheesh! How embarrassing! She didn’t hold it against him or anything, what he’d said about Harrison stealing her away. Older people had the privilege of speaking their minds. But the part that really dampened her spirits was when she realized that Dubose would have no interest in visiting the old man. It made her realize how unalike she and Dubose were—because she’d loved the visit.

She and her fiancé were different from each other—maybe too different.

She wouldn’t show that she was upset, though. It was too nice a day. And it would be churlish of her to get moody when Harrison had gone to all this trouble to help her.

“Thanks so much for arranging the visit,” she told him when they were back on their paddleboards.

“He’s great, isn’t he?” The wind picked up Harrison’s hair and played with it.

True was a little jealous. She’d love to run her hands through his hair, just one more time. They were traveling side by side, and she couldn’t help admiring his physique, too. She’d have to be blind not to appreciate his muscles.

Obviously, country music superstars worked out.

“He’s a lovely man,” she agreed, and pulled her paddle through the water. She had to put in more effort rowing back home because they had no current at all to help them. “So you went over to Pee Dee Island when you were in high school?”

“All the time,” Harrison said. “I borrowed the same johnboat you and I used as kids—I just traveled farther afield. Cornelius treated me like family. After Mom died, he had me to supper at least once a week.”

Regret sliced through True, sharp as the edge of an oyster. “I’m so sorry.” She was mortified at the little catch in her voice and the way her eyes stung. But she deserved the embarrassment. “Our family never invited you to supper. You were alone almost through high school.”

Harrison’s oar streamed through the water. “It’s what grew the songs in me. All that solitude. I don’t regret it. So neither should you. Your dad helped me, too. He arranged it so DSS wouldn’t place me in foster care.”

“He did?”

“Yep. Said I was the best lawn boy he’d ever had. He pulled some strings.”

“You’re very kind to frame his selfish act so generously,” she said quietly.

“Not really. He was thinking of me, too. I sensed it. But whatever his motive, the end result worked for me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Don’t be hard on your dad. I think of myself a lot, too.”

“Only because you’ve had to.”

“Don’t give me any breaks. I’ve arranged my life this way.”

They paddled on a few more minutes in silence. The day was hot. Really hot. The wind on the water wasn’t enough to keep True from sweating. Harrison, too, had a sheen on his brow.

“You want to take a break and swim?” he asked her. “Cornelius is right. The tide is at a standstill. I wouldn’t mind jumping in.”

“Sure. I’d love that.”

He sat on the board and took off his shoes. “I’m diving in.”

“Good luck,” she said.

He stood again, grinned at her, then did a perfect dive off the front of his board, propelling it backward. He came up with a swish of wet hair and whooped. “It feels great! Come on in!”

She laughed as he swam with strong, sure strokes to his board and hung from its edge. “Let’s go, Miss Maybank. It’s plenty deep. You won’t encounter any crabs, I promise you. And we’re in the middle of the channel, so you won’t hit an oyster bed, either.”

“All right.” She refused to think about crabs. She took off her Sperrys and jumped in, holding her breath.

Ah, the sensation of landing in cool water! It was so refreshing. It made her downright giddy. Why hadn’t she done this more since she was a kid playing at Sand Dollar Heaven? At the surface, she opened her eyes and laughed out loud. “You’re right. It’s awesome.”

He’d already grabbed her board and placed the two side by side.

He swam up to her, and her heart raced. His eyelashes were covered in beads of water. “It’s like the old days, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “The really,
really
old days.”

“Let’s get away from the boards. We could use a little exercise.”

“Okay.”

They both swam about a hundred feet, then stopped and treaded water and looked at each other. He was only slightly out of breath. She was actually panting a little.

“Here we are,” he said.

He might as well have said
Just we two
.

It hung in the air between them.

The boards bobbed not too far away, an easy escape anytime True wanted to take it. But something kept her there, her hands and feet swirling through the salty creek, which wended its way around them, supporting them from below, a benign presence.

“I really hope you’ll be happy,” Harrison said out of the blue.

True gulped. “Thanks.” She ducked under the water to get away from him for a second, then came back up and brushed her hair off her face. He was lying on his back, looking up at the sky. He looked like the boy she remembered on the dock. She missed that boy. But what else was there for them to do but return to the boards?

“This was a great idea,” she said. “You ready to get back?”

“Sure.” He swam freestyle again.

She did the breaststroke this time, wanting to linger, feeling sad for some reason.

When she got back, he was waiting patiently in between the boards, holding on to them loosely, his chin still in the water.

She swam right up to him and accidentally kicked her left leg against his. “Sorry.” She backed right up.

“It’s all right.” He smiled, and her sadness evaporated. His eyes were warm. Accepting.

Even when he’d seemed to hate her in high school, it wasn’t her he scorned. It was the phony True. He’d always stayed loyal to the girl she really was beneath her mistakes and rationalizations. He’d never forgotten her. And that had helped her so much … there were still times she wasn’t sure who she was. But he always seemed to know.

Always.

It was a cozy little space with the paddleboards penning them in. Only a few inches of cool water separated them as they bobbed gently, face-to-face. Birds cawed from the banks. The wind came in short, easy gusts.

And then it happened. Harrison leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth wet, salty, and warm. She kissed him back, and it was as natural as breathing. Her mouth was open and wanting. Wanting
him
.

He pulled her close with one arm, and she hung there, her legs tangled with his. They fit perfectly, their tongues clashing and exploring like familiar playmates reunited.

Nothing had changed.

Oh, God. Nothing had changed at all.

She moaned in her throat. He pressed his ready erection against her belly, and she reached down with a hand to caress it.
Old, old friend
, she thought.
My lover. My love.

He ran his hand down her back, into her waistline, and grabbed her bare buttocks. “You’re perfect,” he said, over and over. “Perfect.”

His words affected her as much as his kisses did. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed to hear him say them.

An airplane flew high overhead, but it was enough for True to open her eyes to gather her wits.

“Harrison,” she whispered.

It was a plea. But how did you stop when the only man you wanted to kiss was kissing you? When he was saying things that you’d only dreamed you’d hear from him again?

“I’m sorry,” he said between loud, increasingly passionate kisses that were teetering out of control. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She ran her hand down the side of his face, over that sculpted cheekbone.

They stared at each other a few seconds. And then she hung from his shirt, literally, as she unbuttoned it. She even went under water and worked the buttons loose before laying kisses up his belly until she broke the surface again. Then she kissed his chest once more and helped him out of his shirt, throwing it on her paddleboard, where it landed with a splat.

Neither one of them said a word.

It was his turn now. He removed her camisole top, and while he did, she caressed him—wherever she could grab purchase—as he boldly peeled the fabric off her. It passed over her face so fast that she didn’t have time even to close her eyes.

He kissed her deeply as he unhooked her bra.

Sweet heaven! Her naked breasts felt so good, especially with his hand cupping the right one, caressing it with his thumb.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

They both looked down between them. There was a flash of pale gold, and then her bra was gone.

They laughed. He encircled her waist while she wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed and laughed.

Kissed.

And got quiet, except for the soft, smacking sound of mouth against mouth.

He extended his arms on either side of her and grasped the board behind her. She clung to his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, tantalizingly above his erection. He lifted himself higher so they could meet at that sweet spot …

And it worked. They made love in their clothes, kissing all the while. True grew angry that she was trapped inside her stupid, evil shorts, but the frustration made her come hard—a rapturous, transcendent feeling, in water, no less—her moans swallowed by Harrison’s mouth.

“There,” he whispered, his mouth curved in a smile. He kissed her tenderly, then wiped her hair back off her forehead.

She floated, her legs uncurled from his torso, and started to cry. Just a little at first.

He gathered her head to his neck. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s
okay
.”

She cried harder. “No, it’s not. I’m getting married. And all I can think of is that I just had an orgasm in Biscuit Creek. With you. And you didn’t, which doesn’t seem right. But you’re not my fiancé, so why do I care? Why am I even here?”

She wouldn’t tell him that it was the first satisfaction she’d found with a guy—Dubose being her only other lover—since prom night, all those years ago.

Harrison chuckled softly. “Hey, I’ll survive. And I’m not sorry it happened. Don’t you be, either. Think of it as a little release. You’ve had a lot going on. And it breaks my heart to see you go through it all on your own.”

Panic made her tremble. The water seemed too vast now. Maybe a shark was lurking nearby, lured from the ocean by a shrimp trawler. Maybe it was exploring Biscuit Creek the way the dolphins did.

The current was beginning to move, ever so slightly.

“We have to get home.” Weezie would be waiting. So would Gage. And she still had a lot to do for the wedding.

“Whoa,” he said, “stay calm.”

She swallowed. “I will.” She didn’t have a paper bag to breathe in out here. But she could cup her hands.

“Let me help you get your shirt on,” he said, “and then I’ll push you back up. Do you think you’ll be able to paddle?”

“I’ll have to.”

He winked. “Good girl. The rhythm will help you settle down. And don’t worry. The current’s going with us. So even if you get into trouble, I gotcha.”

“Okay.” She let him help her with her shirt. And when she grabbed the side of her board to get on it, he pushed her from behind, help she accepted gratefully. Her wrists and hands were still trembling.