Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 24

  If she needed a sign, there it was.

  He placed the backpack on a flat top rock and gestured at the scenery. “Did you know moss attracts fireflies? Or that it can take twenty years for moss stripped from a rock to regrow?”

  She looked more closely at the verdant green clinging to the rocks and tree trunks along the water’s edge.

  “It touches your senses,” he quietly murmured. “Some believe moss needs serenity to grow.”

  “Makes sense.” She gestured at the setting. “This place calms my soul.”

  “Have you noticed how quietly we’re speaking?”

  “Not until this second.”

  “Spirit recognizes spirit.”

  “Oh, so is this a holy place?” She looked around. It sure felt holy to her.

  “There are lots of sacred places like this one,” he explained in a deep voice.

  His eyes bored into hers. Tingles of hyperawareness made her shiver slightly.

  “The photograph your brother took. Tintagel. That’s a sacred place.”

  The deferential way he pronounced Tintagel had a formal British feel to it.

  Summer navigated the large rocks, stepping carefully, one by one, until she landed on a smooth boulder stone in the middle of the slow-moving stream.

  Balancing as she crouched, she surveyed the clear water. “I wish it would hurry up and get warmer out so I could dip my toes without freezing to death.”

  She slowly swished her fingers in the chilly stream. “There are water sprites here.” Looking back, she smiled shyly. “I’ve seen them.”

  “They must like you.” He chuckled. “Sprites mostly prefer to remain invisible. It’s one of their special abilities.”

  He knew about sprites? Oh! Be still my swooning heart!

  “What else?” she asked, curious to learn more about what he knew.

  “Another test?” he asked with a great deal of amused mockery.

  “Gen-u-wine interest.”

  “Okay, well, let’s see. Sprites are elemental spirits, and in this case, the element is water. They are unpredictable, something to remember if one ever tries to lure you into following. A water sprite can conjure a storm, and they add their voices to the spirit choir by singing soft, soothing songs.”

  His knowledge felt natural and not forced. He wasn’t bullshitting her or making stuff up for the hell of it.

  She sighed and swirled her fingers in the water. “I love water. Love to swim,” she told him with a wistful smile. “Gymnastics wasn’t my only childhood sport. I was a swimmer too. Captain of the girl’s swim team in high school. Olympic dreams,” she snorted.

  “What happened?”

  11

  There was a list inside his head of important life moments like almost having his balls blown off or the first time he fired a weapon in self-defense. The moment before him had the same serious significance.

  It wasn’t because of Summer’s hot ass or how she looked in yoga pants. It wasn’t even because of this amazing place overflowing with ancient energy.

  His heart sat up and took notice when the golden girl said she loved water and swimming. It was actually a little disconcerting because his mother was a swimmer. Water was her element. She swam competitively as a kid and kept going through her collegiate years. Everyone around her knew making the Olympic squad was one of her aspirations—it was even mentioned in her obituary—but after college, her career took center stage, and love swept her away. Marriage and a baby happened. Then in one terrible moment, she was gone.

  Hearing Summer speak so eloquently about the effect water had on her and how she swam on a team felt huge to Arnie. Huger than huge. He was certain she was like his mother, but since he’d only known Lianne Wanamaker in utero and then very briefly after birth, he had nothing to base this comparison on. Still, he felt something he couldn’t explain. Something he was certain included his mother’s hand, and it rattled him.

  “What happened to make me stop swimming?” She repeated his question and shrugged as she stood. “The girls happened,” she drawled. Pointing at her boobs, she made a face and continued. “Strapping bingo and bongo down in a leotard was easy but not so much in a bathing suit. I didn’t like the attention.”

  “Are you serious?” He didn’t mean to sound aghast at this revelation, but that was how his reaction came off.

  “Don’t act so outraged.” She huffed and snickered. “Guaranteed you did your fair share of ogling the cheerleaders.”

  He winced. “Ouch. Bull’s-eye.”

  She blew off his reaction. “Hey, it is what it is.”

  “True until you make me feel like a sexist pig, and then it’s a bigger deal.”

  He held his hand out for her as she hopscotched the rock stream and came to his side.

  “Don’t feel too bad. I can guarantee the ladies were checking out your front and rear view at every opportunity.”

  His shoulders inched up, and he muttered, “Truth.”

  “Oh my god, are you embarrassed?”

  He grinned. “In my high school yearbook? I was voted most likely to be a delivery guy.”

  “A what? Why?”

  Arnie chuckled. “I believe the snarky designation had everything to do with the word, package.”

  She. Cracked. Up.

  So did he.

  Without prompting, she came into his arms where she belonged, and he claimed her in a tender kiss. The velvet warmth as they explored with lips and tongue was very nearly his undoing. With no problem whatsoever, he was willing to stand there through the rest of time as long as she didn’t leave him.

  His lips moved to nibble at her earlobe and kissed a path down her neck. She had one hand at the back of his neck and the other on his chest.

  Their kisses were intense and passionate, but they both knew acting on their desires wasn’t in the cards. Maybe some other time he’d make love to her while out in nature, but not today.

  Redirecting their mutual desire was a bitch, but he knew he had no choice. He went with the easy choice because knowing Summer as he now did, Arnie was sure she’d take the bait.

  “It’s getting close to feeding time.” He chuckled next to her ear. “Any minute now, I expect to hear the foghorn sound of your stomach growling, and I doubt a bunch of gas station snacks will do the trick.”

  “I have just the thing!” Her laughter rang out in the woodland glade.

  She took his hand and started dragging him after her.

  “Whoa, sunshine. Slow down. Backpack, remember?”

  He retrieved the pack while she tapped her booted foot. Her impatience was cute.

  “Your Sherpa is ready. Lead the way, golden girl.”

  Giggling at his jest, she brightened as her body language relaxed.

  “Follow me, Mr. Magnum.”

  It took considerably less time to tromp their way back to the Jeep than it had to reach their destination. Summer did a lot of jumping on the way down the trail. To her, obstacles were simply hurdles to leap over. Her energetic approach to life was refreshing. He bet she’d jump at the chance to travel off the grid, pitch a tent, and stargaze in the middle of nowhere.

  As they walked, he noticed that she stooped a few times to pick things up.

  “Hey,” he called to her. “Need help?”

  Whirling around suddenly, she nearly collided with him. “Oops, sorry. Here.” Her hand opened, and he saw a collection of natural objects—little stones, a seedpod, and a small feather.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Memories.”

  His eyes caught hers. He almost cried when their gazes locked. She was in this, whatever this was, just as profoundly as he.

  Carefully and reverently folding the treasures in a tissue from her backpack stash, he took extra pains to make sure everything was protected. He understood a thing or two about memory treasures.

  In a small, breathless voice, she murmured, “Be careful.”

  “I’ve got you.” He wasn’t sure why he chose
those words, but there you have it.

  Her answer was a whisper. “I hope so, Arnie.”

  Jesus. A wedge of emotion clogged his throat, and more damn tears threatened. This unexpected sunshine girl was … what? His destiny or deadly kryptonite? She’d gotten inside him so fast he was without defense.

  When they got to the Jeep, she bugged him until he agreed to open the soft top despite the January chill. Things like weather didn’t faze Summer.

  Before they pulled back onto the roadway, she had him wait while she tapped on her phone.

  “Oh, goody! There it is. Look.” She waved her phone so close to his face there was no way to see anything.

  “See? Rocky Lobster. Winning!”

  She directed him with the efficiency of a turn-by-turn app, warning him in plenty of time for some pretty interesting driving maneuvers until she squealed, “There! See? Up ahead. Pull over, pull over!”

  Pounding on his arm, she unleashed her unbridled enthusiasm with typical delight.

  “Get ready for a taste bud orgasm. You won’t believe how good this is. Rocky Lobster is a local legend. Come on, come on. Park this thing.”

  Was she out the door the minute the vehicle stopped? Yes.

  Was she right about the taste bud orgasm? Also, yes.

  Once again, her food truck preference scored a home run. They pigged out on lobster rolls and demolished a takeout container of crispy fries sprinkled with sea salt and seasoned with Old Bay.

  “What do you want to do now?” he asked her as they gathered their trash and policed the Jeep’s interior. “It’s your day off, so the shots are yours to call.”

  “Yeah? Then let’s drive south on PCH toward Ventura. The edge of the continent offers a spectacular view. If we’re lucky, we’ll see the Channel Islands.”

  The radio assault began not long after they hit the fabled Pacific Coast Highway 101. Summer was a manic station changer. In rather short order, he discovered she would rather eat raw liver than sit through even one minute of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird.” She also had a weakness for girl singers and didn’t hesitate to stand up, stick her face into the wind, and sing her heart out as they sped along.

  “This is my song,” she shrieked when Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” played. “Remember?”

  Crawling all over him, she vamped it up, and at one point, almost put them in a ditch when she got handsy with his junk. When she stood with her arms wide and crooned about love and skintight jeans, Arnie committed every second to memory.

  “I love Carrie Underwood,” she yelled over the loud music when the next song came on.

  Until Summer started singing about being an All-American girl, he didn’t have an opinion about the American Idol winner, but his outlook changed after he heard the lyrics. When the song ended, he asked, “Is that what you want, Summer? To be the center of someone’s world?”

  She looked at him as though he was crazy. “Arnie, isn’t that what all motherless kids want?”

  Oh, shit. She hit the nail on the head.

  Lowering the radio’s volume was her signal that she wanted to talk. Sweeping her hair behind one shoulder in a gesture of defiance, she launched into a fascinating speech on modern love and made clear she wasn’t thrilled with today’s hookup culture and would never, ever sign up for online dating.

  Summer was a people person, and she genuinely gave a shit about everyone. This trait was rare and set her apart. Lots of people put on a good show, but she led with her heart.

  “I know it’s not the norm anymore. Over time, the notion of a commitment lost its implied longevity. People fling the phrase around.” She made air quotes and sneered, “The committed relationship. Bah! When did committed and temporary start meaning the same thing?” Summer’s displeasure was apparent when she spit out, “Lazy relationships. Ergh.”

  Silence followed for the next few miles, and then she asked, “What about you?”

  Surprising himself, he had an immediate reply. “Being the center of someone’s world is a two-way street. It’s not just women who crave it, Summer. And it’s more complicated than it sounds.”

  “So you’re saying yes, you want to be someone’s world.”

  “Your world, sunshine girl. That’s the two-way street. You’re at the center with me, and I’m at the center with you. And hopefully at the same time.”

  “Are we speaking metaphorically?”

  “There’s nothing metaphorical about me and you.”

  “We have a bit of a logistics problem,” she said in a cool voice.

  What an understatement! But logistics was only a part of it. Beginning a serious relationship in the absence of context presented unusual challenges.

  “We’re in a bubble,” Summer murmured.

  “How did you get to be so wise?”

  “I read Cosmo.”

  “You know what we need?” he asked as the serious vibe hanging in the air started to feel uncomfortable. “Ice cream.”

  “Nice redirect.” She laughed. “Very smooth.”

  He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on the road wasn’t easy.

  “I almost made Eagle Scout, so I know all about logistics.”

  Summer snorted her amusement. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m serious,” he complained. “Understanding the term was a part of the Truck Transportation merit badge.”

  “Merit badges are what you’re basing this knowledge on?”

  “Sure. Why not? The Scouts have more than a hundred merit badges, and they aren’t exactly easy to earn.”

  “A hundred?”

  “Yeah. Everything from stamp collecting to crime prevention. It wasn’t all wilderness survival and how to tie knots.”

  “What happened? I mean, why didn’t you make Eagle Scout?”

  Arnie chuckled. “The one thing there wasn’t a merit badge for was sex. So to answer your question, girls happened. Lost interest after that.”

  “On that note, I’m going to look for ice cream.” She waved her phone, and in less than ninety seconds, she was yelling at him to exit the main road.

  The shop in the center of a modest strip of newly constructed stores was a faithful reproduction of a quaint, old-fashioned ice cream parlor—right down to the red-and-white-striped chairs.

  They were the only customers, and before long, a lively back and forth broke out between them and the two scoopers manning the long ice cream case. Several samples later, he’d tasted the difference between dark, milk, Belgian, Dutch, and fudgy chocolate. The lesson was repeated with the vanilla flavors.

  “I love the smooth vanilla bean,” Summer cooed. The way she lingered over a tiny plastic sample spoon of the creamy treat did the expected to his dick. Watching her tongue make love to the red plastic made him horny as hell.

  They took a seat at a bistro table in the corner by the window. He eyed the shop’s furniture with a cynical eye. Big guys and tiny chairs were not a good match.

  Perching carefully on the striped seat, he somehow managed to balance his ass and devour a double scoop of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone.

  “What do you want to do after this?”

  She appeared to consider the question, but he wasn’t fooled. Her aura pulsed with energy so strong it body slammed into him and scrambled his thoughts. There was only one thing on her naughty little mind. He ate his ice cream and hid a pleased grin.

  “I don’t know,” she muttered with a completely unbelievable roll of her shoulder. “What do you want to do?”

  He had an urge to check his watch and see exactly how many hours it took for her to reach this point. Right now, all the little lady could think about was lying under him while he fucked her senseless.

  As he made a quick mental plan, his dick signaled approval with a throb.

  “Me? What do I want to do?” His amusement was obvious. “I want to wear you on my cock. Does that answer your question?”

  His blunt admission caused her to inhale sharply. Ne
xt thing he knew, she was beet red and claiming brain freeze as the culprit.

  Wearing her on his cock was a raunchy visual made all the better because he knew she was imagining it.

  In the parking lot, he asked for her roof preference—open or closed. He wasn’t surprised when she requested it be closed. Introducing sexual heat to their agenda had changed her demeanor. She became softer and less energetic.

  After getting her settled, he rounded the vehicle and climbed in. The second his door shut, she was on him, begging to be kissed.

  The front seat comfort level and inhibited accessibility to her soft body earned the Jeep a thumbs-down rating. What saved the vehicle from top honors on his shit list was how fast it could go. The return trip to Santa Barbara took no time at all.

  He grumbled about waiting in the Jeep while she ran into her apartment to pack an overnight bag. Alone with his thoughts, Arnie’s first instinct was to check his phone. Dottie hadn’t called, but King left a message. It wasn’t marked priority, so he ignored it for now. Reminded of the clock ticking in the background, he did a quick assessment of where things stood.

  He had fallen hard for the California girl next door and had to tell her ASAP.

  He also didn’t care if some thought she was too young for him or he was too old. Love couldn’t be ignored.

  However, the spontaneity of their initial meeting and subsequent affair complicated things. They’d never even been formally introduced. He didn’t have her phone number, and though Arnie searched his memory, he kept coming up empty-handed on her last name.

  She was a twenty-four-year-old waitress with a brother in the Army. Her mother had gone MIA a long time ago, and her father was deceased.

  He blew out a sigh. For Christ’s sake, he knew more about the guys who bartended at Yankee Stadium than he knew about the woman who’d captured his heart.

  Was this what was meant by love being blind? Did the details really matter so little?

  There was no time to formulate an answer after his brain stuttered to a halt when Summer strutted along the sidewalk in front of her building. A floral print duffel bag swung in her grip. She’d changed into jeans and boots. Arnie was an instant fan of the look. He liked how her sweet hips rocked as she marched along. Her sleek blond hair tumbled around her shoulders. A light gray formfitting sweater accentuated her bouncing boobs, and a beguiling smile lit up her expression as she strode toward the Jeep.