Firefly Mountain (30 page)

“I have to return the bike first,” Patrick said as they arrived at the bike rack.

“Okay. That’ll give me a chance to get a lunch together. Meet me at the cottage.”

Patrick nodded and unlocked the bikes. As he handed Gini her helmet, he leaned down and kissed her again. This time he was more forceful, more passionate, and Gini melted into him. He cupped the back of her neck with his palm and held her close so he could explore her mouth more deeply. Gini rested her hands on Patrick’s shoulders and loved the solid, safe feeling of them under her palms.

“Mmm,” Gini said when Patrick released her. “Dessert isn’t supposed to come before lunch.”

Patrick grinned as he put on his helmet, and Gini thought if she were to attack him right now, toss him to the ground and ravage him, at least his head would be protected.

“I’ll see you in a few,” he called over his shoulder.

Gini watched as his khaki-clad legs took command of his bike. When he got about thirty feet away, he stood and pedaled. Gini snapped her mouth shut before the drool spilled over her lips and down her chin. Patrick had been right. A view change like that definitely needed a warning first.

****

Patrick paced in the small hotel room. What had he agreed to? How had this happened? When did he officially lose his mind?

He marched into the bathroom and washed his face at the sink. He used the plush towel hanging on a hook to wipe away the water droplets. As he stared at his reflection, he focused on his lips. Lips that had enjoyed the sweet taste of Gini. Her flavor clouded his judgment. He couldn’t think once his mouth had touched hers. She was like magic, but Patrick wasn’t sure if it was white or black magic yet.

His cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket as he left the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“Find anything interesting in Rhode Island?” Jonah asked. Haddy giggled in the background.

“Funny, Jonah,” Patrick said. “You set me up.”

“Somebody had to. It was devious, I know, but all with good intention. You’re not mad, are you?”

He should be, but Patrick couldn’t piece together any anger. Not with the sensation of holding Gini still so fresh in his mind.

“No. In fact, I just returned from a bike ride with your sister, and she’s convinced me that I need to eat lunch with her.”

Cheers and applause erupted on the other end of the line.

“All right,” Jonah said. “We won’t hold you up. Just one more thing. Midas wants to say hello.”

Puffing breaths filled the earpiece, and Patrick had to laugh. Several short barks sounded then Jonah came back on the line.

“I believe that translates to ‘Don’t screw up with Gini. I like her and so do you.’”

“That doesn’t sound like something Midas would say.”

“I’m reinventing him.”

“You better not ruin him.”

“Me?” Jonah asked. “Haddy’s the one who has been calling him cutesy names and feeding him from the table.”

“I did not feed him from the table!” Haddy shouted in the background.

“Midas wouldn’t eat from the table,” Patrick said. “He knows the rules.”

“Damn straight,” Jonah said. “He barked at Haddy’s monster, Titan, when he tried to eat my sock…while it was still on my foot.”

Patrick pictured Midas disciplining Haddy’s dog and nodded. “Now that does sound like Midas. What about Whisper? She okay?”

“Seems to be. She’s got an appetite on her. That much I’ll say. Never seen such a tiny kitty who could eat so much.”

“I think she’s trying to catch up after being in that cabin,” Patrick said. “She hasn’t meowed, has she?”

“Not even a squeak,” Jonah said.

“Guess she’ll talk when she’s good and ready.”

“When she’s got something important to say,” Jonah said. “Though if she’s anything like the women I know, once she gets going, she won’t shut up.”

Patrick heard Haddy’s voice but couldn’t make out what she’d said. He did, however, clearly hear the muffled thud and Jonah’s cry.

“Don’t beat a broken man,” Jonah said around a laugh then a groan. “I’m crippled over here, and she’s beating me up.”

“You deserved it,” Patrick said.

“Hey, that’s what Haddy just said.” Jonah laughed again. “All right, man. Go, enjoy my sister. Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

“Bye, Jonah.” Patrick hung up and strangely felt better about his decision to meet Gini for lunch. Even if it was on the beach. Where everyone would be wearing swimsuits.

He’d tell her he didn’t like salt water. Some people didn’t like the ocean, right? Some people only swam in pools. He could be one of those people. Gini wouldn’t know the difference.

A small, white lie was better than the big, black truth.

****

When a soft knock sounded on the cottage door, Gini danced to it. She’d packed a fabulous lunch and was ready for a fabulous afternoon with a fabulous man. She opened the door, and after Patrick removed his sunglasses, his hazel eyes combed down the length of her. She’d changed into her bathing suit—a bright purple bikini—and had thrown a short, white, robe-like cover-up over it. She hadn’t tied it shut so it hung loose on either side of her breasts and framed her stomach and thighs. The effects must have been powerful, because Patrick stood motionless in the doorway for at least thirty seconds.

“Patrick?” Gini touched his arm.

He blinked several times and finally brought his gaze up to hers. “What just happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Gini said, but she had an idea. “Come in.” She tugged on his arm, and he took two steps forward into the foyer of the cottage. “Why don’t you grab the food? It’s in the kitchen through there, and I’ll get us some towels to sit on. Meet you right back here.”

Patrick nodded and moved slowly toward the kitchen. Gini laughed quietly as she climbed the stairs. She’d actually stunned the poor guy. Good Goddess, he was adorable. Now if she could keep him under her spell—keep his mood fun and light—she might get somewhere. Where she wanted to get, she wasn’t quite sure. All Gini knew was that she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t a danger. She felt normal. Patrick had something to do with that. She wasn’t having to pretend to be happy. She just was.

When she came down the stairs with two beach towels, Patrick was standing in the living room. He turned around when he heard her behind him.

“Who buys a white couch?” he asked.

“Not anyone who owns animals or drops things,” Gini said. “I haven’t sat on it once. I don’t think Willow or her mom or sister have either. It’s a scary couch.”

“Damn terrifying.” Patrick backed away from it with a two-handed grip on the cooler of food.

“Shall we?” As she donned her own sunglasses, Gini angled her head toward the back door and Patrick nodded.

They stepped outside into the sunshine and strolled across the grass to the shore. Patrick selected a spot not too near the water or other beachgoers, and Gini liked that he wanted the privacy. She spread out the two towels and kicked off her sandals as Patrick positioned the cooler in the sand. He eased down beside Gini and pulled off his sneakers, but that’s as far as he went. Gini let the cover-up slide off her shoulders as she sat on her towel. The cover-up pooled around her waist, and she looked at Patrick. He didn’t remove any more of his clothing, but raised a hand to brush his fingers along her exposed shoulder.

“You have the smoothest skin I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“Geranium and lavender oil in the soap I sometimes make,” Gini said. “Good for the skin.”

“Mason mentioned you were into potions.” Patrick traced Gini’s bicep and down to her forearm. The sensation left Gini breathless for a moment.

“Ah, yes. My potions. Scared the crap out of Mason once. He thought I was a witch. Didn’t do much to improve his fear of talking to women.” Gini laughed. “Jonah convinced Mason I wouldn’t turn him into a toad.”

“I think you might be a witch.” Patrick eased Gini to her back. “Because I’m not sure how I got to be sitting here with you. You messed with my mind, I think.”

The half-grin on Patrick’s lips as he leaned over her on the towel sent Gini down a roller-coaster spiral. He barely touched her, but the closeness was so intimate, so exactly what she craved. She reached up a hand and ran a finger along the scruff on his jaw.

“You’re messing with my mind right now.” She raised her head and nipped on Patrick’s bottom lip. He pressed both his lips to hers and teased her mouth with light pecks. Each kiss lingered a bit longer than the one before it until their lips melded together with a summer sun heat.

Patrick drew back a bit and removed Gini’s sunglasses. She squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand.

“Sorry,” Patrick said. “But I can’t kiss you and catch my reflection in those glasses at the same time.”

“Why?” Gini asked. “It’s one hell of a reflection.” She craned her neck up again and drew Patrick down toward her with slow, deep kisses. She closed her eyes against the sun and let her other senses enjoy Patrick. His smell, still of fresh-cut wood. His texture, scratchy around the beard, rough in the palm that held her waist, soft and wet in the lips that teased hers. His sound, the hush of his breathing, the rumble of pleasure in his throat. His taste, currently minty as if he’d brushed before coming to meet her. Gini didn’t need to see Patrick to delight in his body. His essence touched her, touched her more deeply than anything—anyone—ever had.

Patrick finished up with some nibbling on her earlobe that made Gini gain a new respect for that neglected part of her anatomy. He leaned on his elbow beside her and shook his head.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” he said, “but I can’t be around you and not kiss you.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Gini took the sunglasses Patrick handed her. “I seem to have the same affliction around you.”

She put the glasses back on and stared at the waves rolling onto the shore. As the water receded, the sand eroded with it, washing away seaweed, sandcastles, and footprints. Gini felt as if the water was taking things from her as well. With each retreat, the waves siphoned all the tension out of her body, all the cautious shielding she’d had to put into place just to make it through each day. A refreshed, purer Gini sat on the beach towel next to Patrick. What else was possible sitting next to Patrick?

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starved.” Gini enjoyed the way Patrick’s cheeks pinked with her response. Did he know it wasn’t just food she needed?

He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb across her lips. Yeah, he knew.

Gini kissed the pad of his thumb and moved on to his other fingers. Fresh beads of sweat appeared on Patrick’s forehead, and he used his other hand to wipe at them.

“No swimsuit under here?” Gini tugged at the waist of his cargo pants, letting two of her fingers slip behind the band.

Patrick’s hand clamped onto her wrist, stopping her from exploring any farther. “Didn’t bring one with me.” He scooted back on his towel, putting some space between them.

Uh, oh
. Gini recognized the signs of a mood shift. The last thing she wanted was Patrick to be uncomfortable with her. She wasn’t a come-on-strong kind of woman, but it seemed Patrick was ultra-sensitive to any kind of advance that involved her touching his waist. He was okay with kissing…better than okay. He was fine with touching her, but there were rules about touching him. She could play by them if it meant he wouldn’t run from her.

She pulled the cooler into the spot between them. If there had to be a spot between them, it could at least be filled with food. She opened the cooler and pulled out the monster sandwiches she had created at the cottage. Gini handed one to Patrick and opened the other one in her lap. She bit into hers and watched a motorboat zip by the narrow pier that jutted into the water to the left of the beach. A person on water skis balanced behind the boat, and Gini thought they were a little too close to the shore for such activity.

She chewed quietly, letting the silence hopefully extinguish Patrick’s discomfort. She stole some quick glances at him as he ate his sandwich. His jaw seemed a little tight, but overall his body looked more relaxed. Unfortunately that made her want to touch it all the more. His shoulders and chest filled that maroon T-shirt perfectly, and the line of his back as he sat on the beach towel called out for her to massage.

Gini concentrated back on her sandwich and took another bite. She looked to the water again while she chewed, watching that boat speed by again. This time, it was closer, the rev of its motor overpowering all the other noises on the beach.

“Patrick, isn’t that boat too close to—” Gini finished with a scream as the boat smashed into the pier. Mammoth splinters of wood exploded in the water as the skier’s body was dragged through the shrapnel.

Patrick was on his feet and running toward the water before Gini could stop him.

****

He dove into the water because there wasn’t much of the pier left intact. Patrick swam toward the wreckage with powerful strokes of his arms and swift kicks of his legs. He reached the skier as the young man’s head disappeared beneath the surface of the water. A teenage girl screamed on the ripped apart deck of the motorboat as water gushed into a gaping hole in the hull. Another young man tried to calm her, but she wailed a stream of words Patrick couldn’t make out.

“Life jackets,” Patrick yelled, and the young man on the sinking boat nodded.

Assuming the kid would get the life jackets and take care of the girl, Patrick dove under the water and searched for the skier. He found him a few feet away, floating aimlessly. Patrick propelled himself toward the skier, but had to come up for air when something sharp jabbed his side. He broke through the surface of the water, and pulled a shard of wood from his left side. A red cloud appeared in the water, and Patrick winced at the pain.

Great, more scars.
He let go of the wooden dagger, plunged back underwater, and swam to the body. Grabbing the young man under the arms, Patrick flipped the unconscious skier onto his back and kicked to the surface. The girl still jabbered in a high squealy voice, and the driver of the motorboat pushed a life vest at her.