As soon as I round the bend, the Heftys hits the ground with twinthunks. Nat balances on a stepladder, stretching to reach a broken light mounted under the eaves.
Her tank top rides up, exposing an expanse of creamy skin above her khaki shorts. With her back to me, she can’t catch me staring, so I take a long moment to appreciate the curve of her ass, her legs, her toned arms.
The rickety old ladder starts to shake. Shit. I take off at a run and reach her just as she realizes she’s about to go down. Her arms flail for anything to grab onto. “No, no?—”
My hands mold to her hips, steadying her. But she yelps and starts to thrash. Her boot catches me under the chin. My head snaps to the side. Pain ripples down my back, and my left leg starts to tingle. But I don’t let go, spinning around with her, almost hitting the deck myself before I get my bearings.
“It’s…Doc!” I grit out. Once she has her legs under her, I let her go.
“Shit. Don’t ever do that again.” Nat presses her hand to her heart. She’s spooked, and her breath saws in and out of her chest like she’s just won first place in the fifty-yard dash.
“I should have let you fall?” Adrenaline is still coursing through me, but my jaw is starting to throb. I rub the ache, and come away with a smear of blood across my palm. “You’ve got a mean kick there.”
Nat’s eyes widen, and she closes the distance between us. Her fingers cup the back of my neck. This is closer than I’ve been to anyone but my patients in a long damn time. It feels so good to have someone touch me. Even if she’s only doing it out of guilt.
“There isn’t much blood,” she says, relief lending a huskier tone to her voice as she angles my head slightly. “Sit down. I’llget you an ice pack. And a drink. Coke? Pepsi? Beer? I think Gladys keeps a six-pack of Pilsner in the cooler.”
“Just the ice. I can’t stay. Not if I expect to get my tent set upanddig for clams before dark.”
In truth, I’d give anything to sit on the boathouse deck for a couple of hours and talk to her. Even if she’s only offering out of guilt. But it wouldn’t end well. I’d want what I can’t have—and don’t deserve—and this place wouldn’t be my safe haven any longer.
“You’ve been here since noon and you haven’t set up your tent?” she calls from inside the small structure. “You don’t seem like the type to…waste time.”
I chuckle, then tip my head against the back of the chair. “I wasn’t wasting it. The beach was a mess. I was bringing trash up to the dumpster when I saw you about to fall. Things get a little wild over the weekend?”
“You have no idea,” she says as she emerges from the boathouse with a bag of ice and a small towel. “I sat on my deck all damn night with a fire extinguisher. And fended off a group of drunk assholes at one point. You cleaned up the beach?”
“Yep.” I nod toward the bags I dropped before I caught her. “This island is too beautiful to be disrespected like that.”
Holding out my hand for the makeshift cold pack, I’m not prepared for her to press it to my jaw and jerk at the contact.
“Easy there, Doc.” She leans over me, close enough I catch a whiff of her scent. Citrus and something soft. Flowery. God. Another inch—or three—and I could wrap my arms around her, tug her into my lap, and taste her.
One minute stretches into two. Then three. Nat pulls the bag away, and our gazes lock. I don’t know what it is about this woman that calls to me. She’s beautiful, sure. Especially today. No baseball cap hiding her eyes. No makeup. But it’s not just herlooks. Everything about her isreal. Even the raw need written all over her face.
Until she shakes her head, and it’s gone. Along with any trace of emotion. “The bleeding’s stopped. You need more ice later, come on by. I won’t be here, but the combo for the freezer is eight-five-two-three-eight.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll steal Gladys’s beer?”
She studies me for a beat, then cracks a smile. “If you do, it’ll take more than an ice pack to make you whole again. Gladys isveryserious about her beer.”
Natasha
I flop down on the couch. It’s been a day. A long, hard, confusing day. The kind of day I’d normally tell Gladys all about. Except Bella doesn’t go back to Seattle until tomorrow, and I don’t want to intrude on their last night together.
I spent half the weekend hiding in the basement. In there, the fireworks weren’t as loud. The rest of it I camped out on my deck praying no one was careless enough to burn the whole damn island to the ground.
Until some drunk asshole started banging on my door at three in the morning. The idiot tried to feel me up. I laid him out on his ass. All while his friends attempted to goad me into partying with them.
Maybe it’stime to move on. Clancy doesn’t pay me much, but I’ve managed to save close to ten grand over the years. Enough to get myself set up somewhere else. Kansas is cheap enough. So’s Georgia. Alabama.
I run a hand through my wavy hair. The humidity in the South would do a number on it. And I hate the heat. All those years in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Kuwait? I never want to see a hundred degrees again. Ever.
My muscles protest when I get to my feet. I had to scrub every inch of the boathouse deck and half the walls today. Haul a dozen bags of trash to the dumpster at the edge of the property. I only got throughoneof the cabins.
Clancy has to start vetting his renters. Or make them pay double the deposit for holiday weekends. Then hire a whole team of cleaners.
The guy is too nice. Too trusting. Too out of touch with reality. But I brought a disposable camera with me and took photos of everything. Maybe those will convince him.
