With a shrug, I press it back into her palm. “Not everything in life needs a reason.”
Silence stretches the seconds, longer and longer until it’s all I can hear. She hasn’t relaxed even a fraction. If anything, she’s more tense now than when I came out here. “You okay?”
She sighs, shifting a little further away from me before she risks darting a glance in my direction. “That woman is a menace. I love her, but she never listens.”
“How long have you known Gladys?” I ask.
A small smile tugs at Nat’s lips. “Four and a half years. The day after I took this job, she knocked on my door with an apple pie, a bottle of vodka, and a French press.”
“A French press? Why a French press?” I’m fascinated by the old woman’s thought process. And still a little worried about her mental state.
“Because Clancy—he owns the resort and the house I live in—took his fancy espresso machine with him when he moved to Florida. Gladys worries about anyone who doesn’t start the day with a hit of caffeine.”
“I know a few guys like that. And I probably shouldn’t talk. I bring coffee with me every trip.”
Nat chuckles. “I’d been drinking instant for a couple of years at that point. My first press was almost a religious experience.” We’re close enough for the heat of her to seep into my forearm. “After a few weeks, she started showing up with ‘leftovers’ that weren’treallyleftovers. She ‘made too much.’ She ‘wasn’t used to cooking for just one person.’ Even though she’d been doing it for almost twenty years.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch Bella cut slices of pie while Gladys leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. Every one of her eighty-two years is etched on her face, but there’s life left in her. A lot of it. That woman isn’t one to go quietly into that goodnight. She’ll fight—kicking and screaming—until shemurders the Grim Reaper himself. Then try to fix him up with one of the Fates.
Nat and I move at the same time—in the same direction—and our legs tangle in such a way, she loses her balance and topples into me.
“Whoa. I’ve got you.”
Having her in my arms feels like the most natural thing in the world. She peers up at me, shock parting her lips, and need darkening her eyes. It would be so easy to dip my head and kiss her.
“I’m not a good bet.”
“I’m—” Before I can apologize, she plants her hands on my hips, rises onto her toes, and seals her mouth to mine.
One taste. One touch. One moment I don’t feel quite so alone.
But then she jerks back.
“Shit.” Tears shimmer in her gaze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t.” I slide my hand into her hair and tighten my grip on the wavy strands. Two steps to the left, and we’re hidden from view. Nat melts in my arms, letting me take control. I nip along the edge of her smart mouth, then flick my tongue gently over the seam. She opens for me with a moan.
Her nipples tighten into sharp points. Fuck. Can she feel my hard length against her stomach? God, I wish we were alone. At her house. Or my tent. Anywhere but here.
Nat’s hands slide down my back. When her fingers dig into my ass, my control snaps. “We have to get out of here.” I close my teeth over the shell of her ear. “Fuck the pie.”
“Yes. Right. Okay. But,” she extricates herself from my arms, “if Gladys figures out why, she’ll start planning a damn wedding.”
“Call me.” I take her face in my hands so I can plant a hard, swift kiss to her lips. “Just let it ring. I’ll say it’s an emergency and I have to go.”
“And I’ll offer you a ride?” she asks breathlessly.
Fuck. Her pupils are half blown. I push her against the railing, then give one of her nipples a hard pinch. Her yelp is lost to my mouth on hers.
“Yes. God. I have to calm down before I walk back in there.” Turning away, I run through the names of all fifty states. Then all the countries I served in. My high school teachers. All the bones in the human foot. Anything to take my mind off what’s about to happen.
When I get my dick under control, I swallow hard. “Call me. Now. Before…”
She nods, pulls her phone from her pocket, and dials.
“Mr. Sexy Pants!” Gladys calls. “Your bag is ringin’!”
I rush back inside and dig for the sat phone. “Dammit. Gladys, I’m sorry. I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Bella. Uh…call me?—”
