His Secret Heart (Crown Creek) Page 11

  “Oh!" I snatched the rod back before it clattered to the ground. It felt like the mist over the lake was gathering in between my ears. “Got it, yeah.” I struck the pose of a mighty warrior. “Now what?”

  “Cast.”

  “You go first.”

  He sidestepped until there was more distance between us than I wanted.

  But from way over here, I could see him. All of him. The easy, wide-legged stance he took. The settled way his weight gathered on his heels, like he was planted into the ground. He drew his rod back, and then with an easy flick of his wrist, he sent it flying out into the water. It landed with a faint ‘plop.’

  The red and white bobber sent ripples expanding ever outward on tranquil surface of the pond. That same tranquility rippled out from Finn. His expression was one of casual concentration. Both fully present and somewhere else entirely.

  I felt like I was intruding. I wanted to call off the competition. Concede that he’d won. I wanted to dissolve away and leave him to his peace, because I knew how badly he needed it.

  Then he glanced over at me. When he saw me standing there, still fiddling with the reel, he grinned. “Chickening out on me?”

  The spell was broken. “You wish,” I cackled. I stepped back and tried to mimic the casual flick of his wrist that sent his line flying.

  My line flew all right. Right into the tangle of cattails that lined the bank.

  “Oops, don’t pull, you’ll break it.” Finn handed me his rod to hold and stepped into the muddy water without hesitation. “Wanna try that again?” he asked when he’d recovered my line.

  He stepped behind me.

  I braced myself. Instantly, I was back in his trailer, my chest crushed against the wall as I came apart on his fingers. As he reached around to my front, I sucked in a ragged breath, remembering how he'd reached around from behind me to slide his fingers...

  But his hand landed on my wrist. Only my wrist.

  “Gently now,” he murmured, drawing my hand back. “It’s not a big movement, but everything moves together, feel that?” I felt it. I felt all of it. “Now,” he instructed, as he stepped back. “Just flick it.”

  The space between us was enough for me to recover a little. “Like this?” I lifted my middle finger, flicking him off.”

  “That’s awfully brave of you, considering how close you are to the edge,” he warned. “I could throw you right in.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I got you wet.”

  My ears burned because I’d been thinking the exact same thing. “Hey!” I sputtered.

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  The back of my neck itched. I cast out my line just to give me something to do, something to look at besides my feet. Finn moved away from me and picked up his own line, but I was still acutely aware of him.

  “Hey!” Finn’s cry snapped me out of my turmoil.

  I looked up and saw my bobber dancing frantically. “Ha!” I shouted. “I won!”

  “You won!” He was grinning.

  I did a strutting victory dance. “Told you! You totally suck at fishing, by the way.”

  “Are you going to dance or are you going to reel it in?”

  “Um, dance?” Finn laughed as I clumsily tried to reel in my line. “Jesus, this thing is a monster!”

  “Don’t give him slack! Here.”

  And Finn was behind me again.

  I moved my hand a little too slowly and his fingers brushed mine. I snatched it away and gripped the rod with all my strength, white knuckling it. Not because the fish was heavy but because I had to hold on to something.

  Finn didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were on the skittering line and he reeled and reeled and….

  “There’s my fish!” I held up the line and brandished the flopping trophy at him. “Look! I caught a fish!”

  “You did!” He was grinning. “Now toss it back.”

  “What?”

  He slipped the hook from the gasping fish’s mouth. “It’s too small. Throw it back.”

  “No way. You’re trying to deny me my victory.”

  “You have your victory,” he sighed as he walked down to the bank and knelt down. “Here little buddy,” he said gently.

  As soon as the fish slid beneath the surface it seemed to shake itself. “I think it just said ‘what the fuck, dude?’” I observed and we both watched it shoot away in a flash of green gills. “There goes my trophy,” I sighed.

  “So get another one.”

  “What? I already won!”

  “Win again.”

  I rolled my eyes in a mock huff, but went to my rod readily.

  “You gonna get tangled again?

  “Not a chance.”

  “Good.” He walked over to his rod.

  He was so goddamn distracting that I flubbed my cast, again. I looked over to see if he’d seen it. If he was going to tease me again.

  And then caught my breath.

  The tip of his line was dipping down. “Hey! You got something!” I yelled.

  “Ssh,” he hushed me.

  He furrowed his brow. I watched, transfixed, as he started reeling it in. The corded muscles of his forearm played under the surface of his tanned skin in a way that made my throat go dry. I licked my lips. “You need help over there?” I squeaked.

  “No.” He grunted and stepped back with fluid grace,

  Out of the water shot a massive green and gold fish. I had no idea what kind it was, other than the pissed off kind. It fought and twisted, but Finn was relentless. And in another breath he lifted it in triumph.

  He was out of breath and grinning. His hair flopped into his eyes and he blew it upward, treating me to the full force of his hazel gaze.

  And even though I’d won, I was completely lost.

  Chapter Twenty

  Finn

  She’d won by catching the first fish. I caught three more after that, and kept expecting her to grab her rod again just to spite me.

  But Sky seemed content to sit on the bank and watch me.

  And only occasionally shit talk.

  “All that and you just let them get away,” she marveled after I released the second one. “Seems like a pretty futile hobby to me.”

  “It’s catch and release.”

  “What do you think it thinks about all of this? Does it just go back into the water with a sore mouth going ‘what the fuck was that about?’ Or do you think it brags to its fishy friends about how it fought the big, bipedal weirdo and won?”

  “Who are you calling a big, bipedal weirdo?”

  She laughed.

  When the sun was high enough in the sky to burn off the mists, I packed up my tackle box. “I smell like fish breath,” Sky complained. But I could tell it was just for show. I felt like we’d shared something. Something a lot more significant than the sharing we’d done with no clothes on.

  When we got back to the trailer, she immediately sprinted past me. “Where are you going?”

  “I won,” she reminded me.

  “Oh fuck, I forgot,” I groaned.

  She grinned evilly and ran over to her battered little hatchback. “Prepare yourself for culture!” she called out of her open window, then bumped down the dirt road with her middle finger held aloft the whole way.

  I walked back into the trailer and realized I was alone for the first time in a while.

  And I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  The space felt too big without her in it. Too silent without her questions. Too sad without her smile.

  I stripped out of my fish-smelling clothes and hopped into the shower, thinking about Sky.

  But when my hand strayed to my cock, I snatched it away.

  Her smiles. Her teasing. Her laughter. They didn’t mean what my cock wanted them to mean.

  This was friendship. We’d made a pact. It felt disloyal to think of her like this. With my hand moving faster and faster now.

  “Fuck.” I pulled away. I could
n’t do it. I couldn’t give myself that moment of release.

  I was an asshole.

  But I was trying really fucking hard not to be.

  I twisted the knob all the way to the right and stood under the frigid stream until my teeth were chattering and my blood had cooled.

  I emerged from the shower with aching balls and a decidedly more somber frame of mind. She was my friend. And I was jerking off in the shower over her.

  But I’d stopped myself.

  Again and again I had stopped myself with this girl. I’d shoved down my worst impulses, my raging demons. All my terrible instincts were still there. I wasn’t kidding myself into thinking I’d somehow gotten over them. But I was resisting them.

  I was denying myself the comfort of fucking things up.

  It was new. It was strange. I’d never felt this before.

  My stomach growled, reminding me it was lunchtime. I slapped some cheese between two tortillas and put it in the microwave.

  Then I thought for a second and made another one.

  “Honey! I’m home!"

  I jumped. And when I saw her climbing up into the trailer, my heart jumped too.

  Then I told it to calm back down again. Because whatever my body thought of Sky, it didn't matter any more. Friends. We were just friends.

  "What did you get?" I asked as I sank back down into the sofa, hoping I looked casually disinterested.

  Her grin was all teeth. “It’s a surprise."

  "Oh joy."

  "Settle down," she admonished with grin. "And get your lazy ass up. I have stuff I need you to carry."

  "What stuff? You went to the library."

  But as I stepped out of the trailer into the gravel lot and saw into the trunk of her hatchback, I widened my eyes. It was filled with grocery bags. "Really?" I arched an eyebrow at her.

  She rolled her eyes and looked away for me. "There, okay? I ran your errands. And I didn’t even run into any of my evil half-siblings.” She blew out a sigh. “Now we're even. Now you can't hold it over me that you caught the bigger fish."

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her for facing her fears, but I thought it would sound pretty hypocritical coming from me. “I wasn't planning on it,” I said instead. “But cool."

  “And!” She held up a warning finger. “I demand a rematch."

  "At what? You won."

  She screwed up her face in concentration as we carried the groceries into my trailer. I made a mental note to slip some money to her. Somehow. Although I wasn't sure how I do it, or even if she'd let me. Stubborn little thing.

  "I'll think of something," she announced, dropping the paper bag onto the counter.

  I took out the cereal. “Whatever you want.”

  She slammed the fridge shut. “Just name the time and place.”

  I grabbed the two plates I’d prepared and went over to the couch. “How about right here?" I asked with a grin, patting the cushion next to me as I sat down.

  “Dork.” But she plopped right next to me. Her thigh wasn't touching mine, but it was close enough for me to feel the heat rising off of it. Which reminded me of the other places I'd felt her heat.

  I roughly pushed those thoughts aside and shifted a fraction of an inch away from her. Away from that distracting heat. “So what are we watching?”

  Her grin was truly evil. “My Fair Lady first. And it’s my copy too, so we can watch it over and over again until you properly appreciate Rex Harrison’s talk-singing.”

  It sounded vaguely familiar. “There’s singing?”

  “Oh loads.” She rubbed her hands together. “And British accents too.”

  I brandished the plates of half-assed quesadillas. “I have half a mind to eat your lunch for this. Here I was trying to be nice.”

  “You’re not nice,” she reminded me. “And gimme, I’m starving.”

  I jumped back up and grabbed a bottle of hot sauce. “Trust me, you’re gonna need this to mask the taste,” I warned as I passed it to her. “I’m good at coffee and terrible at cooking.”

  She delicately shook out three drops and then passed it back. “Here.”

  I widened my eyes. “That’s it?”

  “What?”

  I upended practically the whole bottle onto mine. “Pussy,” I scoffed.

  Her eyes went round when she saw how I’d doused it. “Are you insane?”

  “This isn’t even hot!” I dipped my finger into it and tried to brush it on her lips. “Here, taste it! See?”

  “No!” She fell back, flailing her arms as I made stabbing motions at her with my finger. She pressed her lips together and twisted her head from side to side. Then reached out.

  “Hey!’ I yelped as she squeezed my side.

  “Ha!” She scrambled up and then tilted her head. “You have a hole in your shirt.”

  “No way. I’m not falling for that.”

  “No you do.” Her eyes were on my side. “Right here.” She wiggled her finger into the seam at my armpit.

  “Hey!” I yelped again.

  “Oh my God!” The mother of all evil grins was stretching across her face. “You’re ticklish!”

  She pounced on me. “Stop!” I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to roll away, gasping as she tickled me. I hated getting tickled. Hated it with a passion.

  But I didn’t mind Sky’s hands on me at all. I was getting harder by the second. I rolled away to hide the evidence.

  “Shit, I made it bigger.”

  I whipped around to look at her, wondering if she’d read my mind. It took me a minute to realize she was referring the the hole in my shirt.

  “Shit,” she said. “Sorry.”

  I took the moment to slide away from her and put some distance between us. “No problem. It’s not like it’s a favorite or anything. I’ll chuck it later.”

  “Chuck it?”

  “Throw it away? What, do they not use that expression in Reckless Falls?”

  “Ugh,” she huffed. “You are such a spoiled little rich boy. Just sew it up! It’s right on the seam!”

  “Sew it?”

  She spoke in a sing song like she was talking to a toddler. “Sew? You know? Like the song? A needle pulling thread?”

  When I gave her a blank look, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m adding The Sound of Music to our watch-list,” she sighed.

  Then, to my surprise, she got up and went stomping out of the trailer. She returned with a little kit in her hand. “Give it,” she ordered.

  “Give what?”

  “Your shirt, Finn. Give me your shirt.”

  This was a part of friendship I wasn’t sure I could trust. A true test of just how much of an asshole I was. Or wasn’t.

  I licked my lips.

  And then I lifted my shirt and handed it to Sky.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sky

  That was a bad idea.

  I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was already done. Finn lifted his shirt and handed it to me and I nearly fainted dead away.

  How was this the first time I was seeing his skin? He’d been covered both times that we’d… that he’d….

  “You have a tattoo.” I said dumbly.

  “Good eye,” he smirked.

  It stretched over his left shoulder and down to his pec. Two blackwork figures standing opposed to each other with their arms linked. It twinged some memory. “What’s that about?” I leaned in closer.

  He stepped back. “I liked it.”

  “Does it mean anything?” It was a symbol I recognized. But I couldn’t place it.

  He folded his arms over his chest, partially covering it. “It means you’re doing that thing again.”

  “What thing?”

  “Where you cross examine me like I’m on trial.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry.”

  He looked away, the set of his jaw betraying his sudden anger. But he swallowed it down. “So you carry a sewing kit around l
ike some grandma?”