The House On The Creek (16 page)

He kept his hands on his knees. “I’ve grown too big for her. And I want her to go to someone I know.”

Chris looked doubtful. “Why me?”

“You seem like a kid who needs a boat.”

Everett waited. Chris chewed his lower lip, and swirled his feet in the water. Out over the river a gull screeched and swooped.

“I have a pretty busy schedule,” Chris said at last. “Soccer on Saturdays and Thursdays and debate on Monday and Wednesdays. And pizza night at Jackson’s every Tuesday.
Every
Tuesday.” A flash of defiance brought pink spots to the kid’s cheeks.

“Okay.” Everett refused to acknowledge a quick burn of jealousy. “How about Friday afternoon and part of the weekends?”

Chris shrugged. “I could do that. How long would it take?”

“Two or three weekends. Maybe four. Couple of hours every weekend. I think we might get it finished up pretty quickly.”

“We’d work at Edward’s place?”

“My place,” Everett corrected. “I’ve got her up on dry land under the gazebo.”

“Okay.” Everett thought he saw growing interest in the boy’s eyes. “Where did you find her? How big is she, really?”

“She was out along the Creek, right where I left her when I was a kid. She’s small, but not too small for someone your age. And she’ll catch speed if you treat her right.”

“Really? How fast?”

“I clocked her once at thirty seconds from the boathouse to the big bend. And that was with your mom as added weight.”

“No way.” A slow smile stretched across Chris’s face. “I know that bend. Thirty seconds?”

Everett grinned at the boy’s enthusiasm. Just one simple smile improved the kid’s looks immeasurably. “Could have been a deal faster without a passenger squirming around.”

Chris snorted, and climbed to his feet. “Can we start this Friday?”

“Certainly. Your mom could drop you off after school.”

The kid’s face fell. “I forgot. She’s got a client meeting Friday. Those usually run late.”

Everett shrugged. “Then I’ll pick you up.”

The boy’s smile spread and those blue eyes lit up. “In your Porsche?”

“Sure. Jefferson, right?” Amused, Everett had the courage to reach out and tussle Chris’s dripping hair.

“Cool. Yeah.” The boy ducked from beneath Everett’s hand. He was nearly dancing in excitement. “Just let me ask my mom.”

He dashed back along the pier, leaving a trail of wet footprints. Chris’s prints were long and wide, a man’s feet on a boy’s body. Soon enough, Everett supposed, Abby’s son would grow to fit them.

Chris stopped halfway along the pier, and scrambled up a crooked slip. Everett watched as the kid hailed a large houseboat. Abby’s head popped up over the stern.

Everett felt the blood rush in his veins, and cursed himself for a fool.

The kid was chattering up a storm as Everett made his way slowly along the slip. Abby gave her son her full attention, and didn’t glance at Everett until he stood alongside the boat.

Her eyes widened, and some of the animation left her face. Everett played with the change in his pocket, and exchanged a wry smile for her stare.

“It’s all right, isn’t it, Mom?” Chris repeated with an air of impatience. “I mean, you said I could.”

“I didn’t mean for Everett to have to shuttle you from school.” Abby frowned, and leaned out further along the rail of the boat.

She wore stained dungarees over a thin blue t shirt. Everett guessed the dungarees were some sort of work uniform. And then he looked quickly out over the river before the slide of denim straps over the faint curve of her breasts turned his body to iron.

“He said it wasn’t a problem. He said he’d pick me up. In his Porsche.”

Abby laughed. The low chuckle sent a spear of longing straight through Everett. He balled his fists in his pockets.

“How can any mother deny her boy a ride in a Porsche? If you’re sure Everett doesn’t mind.”

“Everett doesn’t mind.” Everett said, dragging his gaze from the safety of the water. “I’ll be there after school on Friday.”

“At three.” Chris said.

“At three.”

Everett looked carefully onto the house boat, and saw Abby’s smile. “You want to join us after your meeting?”

Her smile wavered. “I don’t think so.”

“Invitation’s open.” Everett rolled his shoulders. “We could always use an extra pair of hands. Tacos and pie after.”

“Tacos and
pie
?” Abby tilted her head. “We’ll see.”

Everett closed his eyes and let the heat and humidity wash over his skin. He could hear the creak of cedar logs and the scuff of Chris’s bare feet on the pier, and the slosh of water against the house boat.

He could hear Abby’s breathing, quick and light in the sudden afternoon.

He opened his eyes. “So. Speaking of food. How about lunch?”

“Lunch?” Chris straightened, eager. “I’m starving.”

“I’ve got work to do,” Abby began, but Everett cut her off.

“That’s too bad. Because I’ve gone and hauled a picnic all the way out here over every wretched road in the county, and I’m not hauling it back.”

“A picnic?” Abby echoed.

Everett smiled. “Ham sandwiches and potato salad and chocolate ice cream for dessert.”

“Ice cream? In this heat?”

Everett’s smile grew. “Haven’t you ever heard of blue ice, Abby Ross?”

“Man,” Chris crowed. “Chocolate ice cream. Come on, Mom. I’m so hungry I’m going to wilt.”

Abby brushed damp hair from her cheeks, exasperated. “You just had breakfast.”

“Hours ago!” The boy heaved a long suffering sigh. “Come on, Mom. Please?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Everett murmured. “Please?”

She flushed to the roots of her bangs, and shot Everett a quick glare, but refused to acknowledge the challenge. She swiped again at her hair. “All right. Fine. But we’re eating on the pier. I don’t want to risk ice cream all over Tina’s boat.”

“Come down, then.” Everett hoped his shades hid the thrill of triumph he felt when she winked playfully at her son. He dug into his pockets, retrieved his keys, and offered them to Chris. “Cooler’s behind the seat. It’s not heavy.”

“Cool.” Chris snagged the keys. “No worries. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Abby watched from her perch on the boat as Chris raced back along the pier. Everett noted the faint curl of pleasure on her lips, and heard her chuckle as her son slipped on the damp logs and then scrambled to regain his balance.

“Kid seems good,” he offered. The breeze blew chin length silken tendrils around her eyes and ears.

She looked down at him, and some of the pleasure left her mouth. “What are you doing here, Ev? I thought we had an agreement.”

“Agreement?” He drawled the word, and saw her redden in annoyance. “You ran out on me, Abby Ross -”

“So now you know how it feels,” she snapped.

“ - but I don’t remember anything about an agreement.” He continued, unperturbed. “I came for the boy.”

“Chris.”

“Chris,” he agreed. “He’s pale as winter, Abby. Don’t you ever let him out in the sun? The kid looks like he needs fresh air.”

“He spends his life out doors,” Abby retorted. “How did you know we were here?”

“Picked up the phone and asked some questions. Your clerk was very helpful.”

“I told you, he’s my partner, not a clerk.”

“Your partner. That why you have a standing Tuesday night date with the man, Abby?”

“It’s not a date. And it’s none of your business.”

“You’re right,” he allowed. “It’s none of my business.” And maybe he’d have to change that. “Are you coming down?”

She huffed, and then swung herself easily up and over the rail. The logs rocked when she dropped from boat to pier. Everett held out a steadying hand.

She dodged his grasp. “I’m not going to break.”

Everett felt a pang. He forced himself to smile. “And I know it. Here comes lunch.”

They stood side by side as Chris lugged Everett’s cooler from the shore. The breeze off the James tossed Abby’s scent into the air. The hair on his forearms prickled in reaction, and he had to stuff his hands back into his pockets to keep from touching her.

“I think you’ve made his day,” Abby admitted as Chris made a goofy face across the logs. “I don’t think I’ve seen a grin like that since at least July.”

“I’d like to make yours.”

“Stop it.”

“All right.” Because he wanted to kiss her, Everett strode from her side and crossed the slip to help Chris with the cooler. Together they set their burden in a spot of shade at the end of the slip and, under Abby’s direction, began laying out food.

“The sandwiches are huge,” Chris marveled as he passed out napkins.

“There’s a shop in Merchant’s Square,” Everett said, digging a six pack of cola from beneath blue ice. “They specialize in sandwiches. They have a secret house dressing. Might be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

He heard Abby laugh and glanced over his shoulder. She stood on the edge of sunlight and shade, and shook her head.

“Men and their stomaches,” she said as Chris eagerly unwrapped a sandwich.

“Says the woman who can’t resist dessert.” Amused, he rummaged in the cooler and fished out a small cardboard box. “Luckily, the Trellis does desserts to go.”

Her jaw literally dropped. “Not more cake.”

“No. Sour cream fruit tart.” Everett winked at Chris. “Fruit’s healthy, right?”

“Totally.”

“Give me that.” She reached for the container, but Everett shook his head.

“Eat your lunch first, Abby. Don’t want to set a bad example,” he said, dead pan, and Chris whooped with laughter.

She growled, and tried to snatch the cardboard. Everett caught her grasping fingers and squeezed. She froze, but didn’t pull away as he expected.

“Sit,” he ordered. He tugged her down onto the logs at his side. “Try a sandwich, you’ll be glad you did. Cola or lemonade?”

She stared at him as though baffled. When she licked her lips he felt his body tighten, and had to release her hand.

“Lemonade, please,” She said in a small voice, and reached for a sandwich.

They took their time with lunch, lingering in the shade as the afternoon heated up, licking crumbs from fingers and swallowing every sweet drop of soda. Chris ate two of the gigantic sandwiches and helped Abby devour half of the tart, all the while running on about the skiff and how best to get the boat ship shape and sea worthy.

“Does it have a name?” He asked, separating bits of strawberry from crust.

Everett shook his head. “Never christened her. But you’re right, she could probably do with a name. Why don’t you think about and let me know what you come up with?”

Chris licked pastry crumbs from his finger, and stared out over the water, obviously deep in thought. Everett watched the boy with interest. Abby’s son had a liveliness about him, a sharpness of attention, and the dry wit of a young man twice his age.

He wondered how much of that intelligence was innate, and how much came from growing up under Abby’s care.

The breeze shifted, ruffling Everett’s napkin. He pinned the square of paper down. When he glanced back up he caught Abby watching.

She turned away when he met her stare, but not before he saw the faint, puzzled lines across her brow.

The wind lifted again. Everett grabbed for his forgotten napkin. Chris pounced on a fluttering piece of plastic wrap, then yelped as a sudden gust sent an empty paper cup spinning into the water.

“Go after it,” Abby said, smiling.

Chris handed Everett scrunched plastic wrap, and then ran easily along the pier, diving into the river with a boy’s lack of concern.

“What happened to the ‘don’t swim until you’ve digested’ rule?” Everett asked mildly. Out in the water Chris made a dramatic show of capturing the errant cup.

“We never paid any attention to rules, either.”

“No.”

The bridge of her nose had turned pink in the sun. Everett wanted to reach across and soothe the delicate skin.

“You’re burning.”

“I always do,” Abby agreed. She began dumping the remnants of her lunch into the cooler. “Bring your suit?”

“I planned on lunch, not a dip.” He shrugged and let her see his teeth. “But I’m wearing boxers.”

“You’re not going swimming in your underwear in front of my son.”

“It probably counts as male bonding.”

“It’s probably illegal.”

“I remember the two of us swimming in a lot less in this very same river.”