One Summer (34 page)

“When you were both standing by the lake. During the swimming lessons.”

“You saw that?”

“I was in the kitchen and glanced out the window.” She didn’t want to reveal that she spent way too much time watching him. Or that she, Kara, and Sedona had been discussing him.

Although they’d spent the past two nights together—after Amanda had insisted she’d really prefer to be alone to read a book about women and blue-water cruising she’d bought at Tidal Wave Books—she and Gabe had remained determinedly casual during the day.

Which didn’t mean that she didn’t think about him during the times they were apart. Because she did. All the time. And couldn’t help hoping that he was thinking of her, too.

“Your conversation looked serious.”

“I was sharing a bit of my checkered past.”

None of which he’d shared with her.

She could tell herself that until doomsday, but dammit, the one thing they’d overlooked when they’d made that deal was that sex, by its very nature, was personal. At least for her.

“That was a good idea,” she said. “By not coming off like Mr. Perfect Marine, he might be more encouraged to open up about whatever it is that’s bothering him.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said absently. “Damn. Look at this.” He zoomed in even closer, going to a pixel view of Johnny Harper’s chest.

“It’s your tattoo,” she said.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “He was standing in the line the first day, when I was putting those stick-on ones on the kids, but he said he didn’t want one.”

“Well, he has one now.”

“Seems to.” He tucked his tongue in his cheek. He’d done it again. Gone to that walled-off place inside himself.

“Do you think he’s been smoking?”

“I wouldn’t be all that surprised, but it’s not as if he’s got a lot of time to himself around this place. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I caught a whiff of smoke in his hair.”

“They roasted marshmallows last night. It was probably from the campfire.”

“Probably.”

They worked in silence a bit longer. Charity printed out a photo Gabe had taken of Johnny and Angel Harper onto a square piece of fabric that was going to be the front of a pillow. She’d come up with the idea so the campers could feel their siblings’ presence in their beds after the camp had ended and they’d returned to their separate homes.

“I told him my parents were drunks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So was I. I might not have landed in the system, the way these kids did. But I pretty much raised myself.”

“Well, you certainly did a pretty fine job of it, from what I can tell,” she said mildly, not quite sure where he was going with this.

“They died my freshman year of college.”

“That must have been difficult.” At the same time? In an accident? Or worse? she wondered as the murder-suicides that showed up on the nightly news from time to time flashed through her mind.

“Actually, I was relieved. The two of them were textbook enablers. I spent a lot of time while I was growing up worrying that one of them might die and I’d be left to take care of the survivor.”

“That’s sad. That a boy would think of his parents that way.”

Charity might not have had that much stability— okay, hardly any—growing up herself, but at least she’d always known that her mother, father, and Lucas had honestly loved her.

He lifted his shoulders. “As it happened, they died together. Which was undoubtedly just the way they would’ve wanted it. In an accident.”

Myriad possibilities flashed through her mind. None of them pretty.

“The bitch was that they’d gone on the wagon a few weeks before. I doubt it would’ve lasted, but my mother called to tell me that they’d ‘found Jesus’ and were going off with a mission group to spread the gospel in Central America. They were in a bus that went off a cliff.”

“That is tragic. Did you share this with Johnny?”

“No. There didn’t seem any point. Especially since I have no idea what his parental situation is, so I didn’t want to risk bringing up bad memories.”

“He’s been eligible for adoption for several years. So has his sister.”

He angled his head, studying her even as he hit the print button. “That’s not in his camp records,” he guessed.

“No.” She straightened her shoulders, refusing to let him make her feel defensive. “I called his social worker.”

“Why would you do that?” She watched as comprehension dawned. He shook his head. “Hell. You’re thinking about taking in two more strays, aren’t you?”

“That’s a terrible way to put it.” She set her teeth when she wanted to grind them.

“How would
you
put it?”

“Anyone can see those children belong together,” she said. “I wasn’t fortunate enough to have any siblings, except for Lucas, my stepbrother, but I can still imagine how horrible it must be to be separated from your sister or brother. To only see each other for a few days a year. And as lovely as this camp is, it’s still an artificial environment. It’s not the same as if they actually lived together all the time.”

“What they’ve undoubtedly gone through is a bitch. And unfair. But even you can’t save the entire planet. And you can’t treat those Harper kids like you do that polar bear of a dog you rescued.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting doing.” She was on her feet now. And, dammit, trembling.

“Isn’t it?” He kept his eyes on hers as he stood up, as well. They were toe to toe and he didn’t look happy. “Look, I know you want a family—”

“And I know
you
don’t. You’ve made your point loud and clear, but I don’t see how my feelings, or what choices I might make in my own life, have anything to do with you.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, wondering where this conversation had taken a wrong turn. All she’d wanted was to know some personal thing about Gabe. And suddenly she was having to defend her behavior, which wasn’t any of his damn business, since he’d made it clear that he wasn’t into complications. Or baggage, which a woman and two kids would definitely involve.

“I have a big house,” she repeated what she’d been telling herself the past two days. “I’m financially stable. I work from home, so I’d be around all the time. And everyone knows dogs are good for children. It seems applying to be a foster parent makes sense.”

“Look, I’m not sure how the system works, but I’m pretty sure being a foster parent is usually a temporary situation. Again, sort of like what you do with the strays that wander through your shelter.”

“That’s usually the case, but—”

“Shit.” He dragged a hand through his hair, and for a man who claimed to be into this relationship just for the sex, he seemed awfully frustrated by her life choices. “Tell me you’re not thinking about adoption.”

She could have told him that once she’d started following her intuition, instead of planning everything to the nth degree, her life had improved exponentially. She’d moved out west, into a house she’d fallen in love with the first moment she’d seen it on the Internet.

Her clinic was thriving; she had more friends than in Chicago, where the few friends she’d made were mostly Ethan’s. She was ready—financially and emotionally—for a family. Having grown up jumping rope to the old jingle “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Charity with the baby carriage,” she’d always just assumed that she’d follow the traditional route.

But that hadn’t happened. At least not yet. So, what would be wrong with mixing up the order?

She lifted her chin. “Excuse me, but again, I fail to see how any plans I may or may not have for my future are any of your business. It’s not as if my life will have an effect on yours, since you’re going to be in Washington. Or Alaska. Hawaii. And God knows where after that.”

She was surprised by the razor sharpness of her voice, which definitely wasn’t her usual tone. Even when she’d informed Ethan she was calling off the wedding, she’d stayed calm and collected. At least on the outside. Inside she’d been shaking like a leaf. But her weasel of a former fiancé hadn’t realized that.

Apparently Gabe was equally surprised by her flash of temper. He scrubbed both hands down his face.

Charity knew he was frustrated by her possible plan, but couldn’t understand why. Granted, she hadn’t known him all that long, but from what she’d witnessed, he didn’t seem to be the type of controlling male who felt the need to dominate a woman’s life. In fact, if she was to be perfectly honest, she hadn’t had to work all that hard to push the dog on him, despite his earlier protest that he didn’t want it.

He was leaving, she reminded herself.

In just days.

Did she really want to risk running him off sooner just because he’d mentioned some negatives to an idea that still hadn’t fully formed in her mind? Cutting off her nose to spite her face, as the old saying went? As her mother had done so many times in the past. Including during this latest storm with Judge Benton Templeton.

“I think,” she said slowly, gathering up the scattered threads of her composure as she felt the anger leaving like air from a deflating balloon, “that it’s possible we’ve just had our first fight.”

“I think you may be right. But don’t worry about it.” That bad-boy grin that had been making more and more frequent appearances since the first night they’d made love flashed. “We’ll spend tonight making up.”

Charity couldn’t tell if her mother had suddenly begun filling up a social calendar because she’d truly decided to move on with her life, or was so heartbroken over what seemed to be a seriously shattered marriage that she was attempting to keep busy so she wouldn’t have to think about the future.

Or there was always the possibility that she was merely trying to give Charity and Gabe as much private time as possible before he left town.

Last night Amanda had eaten dinner at the Douchetts’, returning home with knitting needles and some sunshine yellow yarn for squares she’d signed up to make for Project Linus, a charity Adèle was active in that made blankets for ill, traumatized, and otherwise at-need children.

“So at least something positive can come out of this debacle,” she’d said proudly as she’d shown off the first few rows of her first evening’s work. “I’m going to knit the squares. Then Adèle’s going to link them together for me.”

“That’s a really lovely idea.” And the last thing she’d ever imagined her social butterfly of a mother doing.

“I thought so. Adèle told me there’s also a chapter in Washington, so if my marriage survives, hopefully I’ll be able to help them, too.”

Tonight she was playing bunco with Doris, Dottie, Adèle, and Maureen Douchett, Adèle’s daughter-in-law and Sax and Cole’s mother.

Her mother’s 180-degree turnaround only added to the local lore that there was, indeed, something in Shelter Bay’s water.

Gabe was standing in the doorway when she arrived but was at the car before she got out of it.

“It’s about time you showed up.” He scooped her off her feet and carried her up the metal steps into the motor home.

“I got stuck on the other side of the bridge,” she said.

His dog, overjoyed to see her, began jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box. “Hello, sweet boy,” she said, reaching down to pat its head on one of the jumps.

“I’m obviously not the only one happy to see you.”

Gabe managed to grab a training cookie from a jar on the counter without so much as bobbling her, reminding Charity again how strong he’d have to be to carry not only all his Marine military gear but his body armor and camera equipment over those Afghan mountains.

“Sit,” he said.

The dog obediently plopped its fuzzy butt down on the floor.

“Good boy.” He tossed a cookie, which disappeared with a snap of the small, square jaw.

“Now stay.”

Amazingly, it did.

When he shut the bedroom door behind them, Charity could hear it jumping up on the couch. Which was the same thing Peanut, who believed himself to be a lapdog, tended to do when left alone.

“That’s very impressive,” she said.

“We’ve been working on it.” He covered her mouth with his and gave her a long, deep kiss that stole her breath and set her head to spinning. Then he put her on her feet. “But can we table the dog-training discussion for later? Because it seems like I’ve been waiting forever for you to show up.”

“I felt it was taking me forever to show up. That damn bridge took ages to go back down. But now that I’m here …”

Grabbing the bottom of his T-shirt, she pulled it over his head. Her hands grazed over the hard muscles of his chest, his ribs, her fingers playing with the line of dark hair arrowing down to the waist of his jeans.

When she pressed moist kisses against his warming skin, she could feel his heart beating wildly beneath her lips, matching the rhythm, the beat, of her own runaway pulse.

“You do realize that you’re making me crazy.” Gabe took her hand and pressed it against his lower body.

“My …” Charity bit her lip, trying not to grin as she looked up at him. “Did I do that?”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” she said, struggling with the cumbersome buttons on the fly of those faded jeans, “that the first thing I’m going to do when the stores open in the morning is buy you a pair of pants with a zipper.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

His dark, deft fingers dispatched the row of metal buttons. Just the sight of him was enough to send thrills skimming beneath her skin. But when he slid first the jeans, then his gray boxer briefs, over his hips and down his legs, Charity forgot the vow she’d made while waiting for the damn bridge to go back down, to take things slowly.

Unlike her, who’d always felt a little uncomfortable taking showers with all those girls at boarding school, Gabe appeared to have no problem with nudity. He seemed totally at ease in the magnificent male body that made her mouth go dry.