Dream Things True (5 page)

“You're mocking me,” she called out above the noise of the engine.

“I don't think you even need a license to drive a boat,” Evan said. “Plus, no brakes, so we're safe.”

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he wedged her body in front of his and guided her hand to the throttle. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No.” The wind pressed her back against him, and she felt the heat of his chest through the T-shirt.

“Are you scared?” His lip brushed her ear as he spoke.

“Yes,” she said. Her body was off balance, as if the floor of the boat were shifting under her.

“Get over it,” he replied, lifting her hand gently and placing it on the throttle.

Together, their hands guided the throttle forward. She tried looking across the lake, in the direction that he was steering, but all she noticed was his hand on hers. The floor kept shifting. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be drunk.

He slipped out from behind her.

“I'm gonna dig out the skis. Just keep going straight, Alma. It's easy.”

She grasped the wheel hard to avoid falling back. The boat skittered over the water, and the wind fused Evan's T-shirt to her practically bare skin. Alma tried hard to ignore the dull ache spreading at the pit of her stomach.

After a few minutes, Evan took the wheel. Caroline and Logan both dived into the water and began to swim fast as Evan tossed a ski rope in their direction.

“This should be entertaining,” he said as they wrestled with their slalom skis.

“Entertaining?” Alma asked.

“Yeah, they'll both show off.”

“Are they, uh, a couple?”

“Most of the time. They fight all the time and break up every couple of months.”

Evan shoved the throttle forward and the boat lurched.

“Logan gets bored easily,” he said. “He's always looking for a rush.”

Logan and Caroline both popped out of the water, crisscrossing each other as they leapt and dived over the wake.

“So they just break up for fun?”

“Yeah, I think it runs in his blood. Everybody says his dad was the same, back in the day. He stole boats and stuff, just for the hell of it.” He shrugged and continued, “Which is weird, since he's the sheriff now.”

The sheriff. Evan said it like it was nothing, like he was describing the color of Logan's dad's car, or his height—not like he knew this man had the power to throw people in jail and keep them there.

Evan gestured toward Logan and Caroline and winced. “That's gotta hurt.”

Caroline was spinning in rapid circles as Logan did strange contortions with his arm.

Maybe, Alma thought, they were all so used to being around powerful people that they didn't even notice it anymore. Maybe they never had.

“Come back here, Alma!” Mary Catherine called from the back of the boat. “I can't hear what y'all are saying and I'm lonely.”

Alma glanced at Evan and shrugged. She made her way back and settled into a bucket seat next to Mary Catherine.

Alma wasn't sure how to make conversation with Mary Catherine. She seemed so unapproachable—this girl who wore a bikini confidently, like she was hanging in comfy sweats. But within moments, it became clear that Mary Catherine—or M.C., as Evan called her—was not your typical Southern belle.

“So, when did you and Evan start hooking up?” she asked.

For starters, she was excruciatingly blunt.

“Uh, we're just sort of friends,” Alma replied, shrugging.

“Alma, honey,” she said, “I've known that boy forever, and the way he looks at you, he doesn't wanna be your friend.”

M.C. let out a deep, bellowing howl that sounded like it should come from a balding white guy with a beer gut. Alma was so surprised by M.C.'s laugh that she forgot to be embarrassed.

“OK.” Alma shrugged. “Maybe we're not exactly friends. But we're
not
hooking up.”

“Makes sense,” Mary Catherine responded, sort of talking to herself. “Evan doesn't really hook up. Plus, I would have known.”

Confused and desperate to change the subject, Alma asked, “So how did you two meet?”

“Meet?” M.C. asked. “We've been neighbors for as long as either of us can remember. I mean, we used to play doctor together! I was the doctor. I always made Evan be the nurse.”

Mary Catherine bellowed again.

“So when you and Evan do hook up,” she said, “you can thank me for his gentle, nurturing touch.”

Now Alma was blushing.

“You mean, you and Evan were, uh…”

“Together? Lord, no. He's like a baby brother to me, Alma. I think I went through puberty something like four years before he did.”

Alma and Mary Catherine turned to look at Evan, his perfectly toned arms casually gripping the steering wheel, his broad shoulders gleaming in the sun.

“My baby's all grown up,” Mary Catherine continued. “Now, he's what my grandmomma calls a ‘tall drink of water.'”

They both laughed, catching Evan's attention.

“What are you ladies talking about back there?” he asked.

“Nothing that concerns you, Ev, sweetheart,” Mary Catherine replied. “You just drive the boat.”

“Not unless Alma gets back up here to finish her driving lesson,” Evan said, reaching his arm out toward her.

Mary Catherine laughed and nudged her out of her seat.

“You heard him,” she called out. “You better get on up there, darlin', because I'm sure as hell not driving.”

Alma closed her eyes and stood up slowly, her head spinning and her legs quivering.

He took her hand and pulled her body back toward the wheel, and she realized, finally, the meaning of the word “swoon.”

 

 

When they pulled up to the dock, it was already dusk. The other boats were tied securely, and everyone else was getting ready to leave for a free concert on the square—some country band Alma had never heard of. She and Evan started to gather towels and drinks from the floor of the boat, but M.C., Logan, and Caroline just jumped out and began making their way toward the house.

“Hey!” Evan called out. “Thanks for all your help cleaning up. I really appreciate it!”

“Come on, man! We already missed the opening act,” Logan replied. “We'll clean up later.”

“I'll catch up to you there,” Evan said, glancing at the empty cans and plates of half-eaten food scattered around the dock. “My mom will kill me if we leave her dock looking like this.”

As they watched everyone else head up the hill, Evan sighed. “My friends are useless.”

Alma figured it was best not to comment on his accurate observation.

“Alma, I know it's getting late, but can you help me get the boat out of the water before I take you home? It's a pain to do alone.”

“Just show me what to do,” she said.

They worked quietly to clean the dock and hose down the boat. Evan hoisted it into the boathouse while Alma held the bow steady.

“I think this boathouse is bigger than my house,” Alma said as they watched the boat rise.

“Yeah, there's sort of a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality when it comes to boathouses—the bigger, the better.”

“I'd say that's a general principle around here, wouldn't you?” asked Alma. “I mean, have you noticed the massive SUVs?”

Evan laughed heartily. “You mean, like the two in our driveway? Yeah, I've noticed.”

They both glanced around the dock, looking for something else to do.

“I guess we're done,” Evan said.

Alma didn't want to be finished. She wasn't ready for it to end.

“So, do you want to see the upstairs?” Evan asked.

Apparently, he wasn't ready either.

They walked up a wooden staircase to the second floor of the boathouse. Evan casually flipped a switch to reveal a screened porch encircled with twinkling white lights. He pushed the door open with one hand and lightly touched Alma's waist with the other, guiding her through. The porch was huge, with cushy lounge chairs and tables arranged in groups. Evan led her in the direction of a bed-like lounger, and Alma felt her hands begin to tremble. What, exactly, was he expecting from her?

“Evan,” she said tentatively. She wasn't sure she could handle getting horizontal with him. She could barely manage to keep breathing when his hand touched hers.

He turned to look at her, grinning, and then leapt onto the lounge chair.

“See that trap door?” he asked, standing on the lounger and pointing his finger to the ceiling. “That takes us to my favorite spot. It was sort of my floating tree house when I was a kid.”

Relieved that she would have a bit more time to pull herself together, Alma felt the tension release from her shoulders. She hopped onto the lounge chair.

“Just pull the cord,” he said.

The trap door released easily, bringing with it a sturdy rope ladder. Touching the small of her back, he gently nudged her up the ladder and onto the roof. She emerged—breathless again—into a small alcove, surrounded by fragrant flowering vines overflowing from huge terra-cotta pots. The alcove had a panoramic view of the lake, rolling gently under the evening sky.

Evan stood next to her, so close that she could feel his arm warm against hers. They both looked out across the lake, saying nothing. It felt right just to be quiet next to him, feeling her heart beat strong, watching the darkening sky.

“Do you want to sit down?” Evan asked, breaking the long silence.

“Sure,” she said, quietly.

He reached into a wooden bin, pulled out two towels, and spread them on the roof of the boathouse.

 

 

Evan watched Alma lie down on a towel and look up at the sky. It was getting late, and Evan knew that he was supposed to take her home, but they were finally alone and he didn't want it to end.

“Thanks for coming today,” Evan said, lying next to her but not close enough to touch her. “I'm still sort of mad at my mom, and my friends can be total idiots, but, uh, well … it was great to hang out with you.”

He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he didn't.

“I had a great time,” she said. “I mean, sort of. At least, I had a great time with you.”

“Me, too,” he said. It was so quiet that he could hear the water lapping against the dock.

“And I'm the one who owes you thanks,” she said. “You rescued me when I arrived at the party—where I knew exactly one person—wearing your mom's skimpy bikini.”

Evan turned onto his side and propped his head into his hand.

“So, Alma, I guess I have a confession to make about that,” he said, looking directly at her. He couldn't believe he was about to tell her this, but it seemed right. “As soon as I saw your face, I knew that you felt, uh, naked.”

“For good reason!” Alma broke in, sitting up. “I mean, does your mom actually wear this thing?”

Evan shrugged. He didn't want to think about that. Ever.

“So, what's the big confession?” she asked, turning to face him directly.

“I guess what I'm trying to say,” he said, tracing his finger along the edge of the towel, “is that when I saw you in that doorway, looking so … so amazingly beautiful. I mean, your body, Alma. Uh, it's not exactly what you'd expect to find under the baggy shirts and cutoff jeans.”

Alma wrapped the towel tighter around her. Evan's heart started to beat fast. He didn't want to screw this up.

“I didn't want anyone else to see it—to see
you
. I wanted to cover you.” He felt a flush rise to his cheeks as his gaze fell to the floor. “I think maybe it was some weird jealousy or protectiveness, maybe.”

Evan looked up and his eyes met hers. The words tumbled out.

“I don't know. I'm sounding so old-fashioned. It's not that I have a problem with bikinis or anything. I mean I've never even thought about it. But you just—I mean, I just, uh, I just couldn't take them looking at you.”

Christ almighty.
He was mangling this. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“Were you embarrassed of me?” Alma asked.

“No, Alma, not embarrassed. In awe.”

Evan forced his eyes to meet Alma's.

“Did you want to see me? To look at me like that?”

“I could have stared at you for hours,” Evan replied, with a strong, steady voice that he didn't even know he had.

 

 

Alma knelt and let the towel fall from her shoulders. She slowly pulled his T-shirt over her head. As it dropped to the floor, Evan knelt to face her. Alma remained perfectly still and Evan's gaze trailed along her body. Breathing slowly, she took in the honey scent of the flowering vines and the distant hum of a boat's engine. He wasn't touching her, but her skin, so alive, felt as if it were being caressed in a thousand different places. Alma was vulnerable and strong at the same time, not at all like the cowering girl she had been earlier, when all eyes turned toward her at the pool.

His gaze spread heat over every part of her.

After a long while—she had no idea how long—Alma reached out and let the tips of her fingers graze his chin. She lifted his deep-green eyes to meet hers, and saw them, questioning, as his hands gently rested on the bare skin of her waist.

“I want to kiss you, Alma.”

Quiere besarme,
she thought.
He wants to kiss me.
Had she imagined the words?

Alma leaned in toward him. The space between them lessened, and she felt the warmth rising from Evan's chest. She ached to press her entire body into his.

Breathe, Alma,
she told herself silently.
Respira.

She took in a trembling breath. Brushing her skin softly, his hands fell to her hips. He gripped her body more firmly, as if he sensed how dizzy she suddenly felt. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly.