by Anna Lowe
Cal’s head whipped around, and he held his breath, steeling himself for the jolt he always got from seeing his mate.
And, wow. She was gorgeous as ever, but stressed too. More stressed than usual, which was saying a lot. Still, she flashed a smile at Joey and nodded to the others in that regal way of hers.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“I knew you’d finally come around to island time,” Dell cracked.
Cynthia stooped to kiss Joey and slipped into her seat at the opposite end of the table from Connor, which put her kitty-corner to Cal. Her face was flushed, and the light tone of her voice was forced. “I just had to—” She broke off and covered her mouth, looking at the unserved meal. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have waited.”
“You’re right.” Dell grinned and started filling Cynthia’s plate. “But there’s this thing called etiquette. And apparently, it’s rubbed off on me.” He faked an exasperated sigh. “Promise me you’ll never tell my friends.”
Connor cleared his throat in a sharp hint, but Dell just shrugged. “I mean, besides these yo-yos.”
“You actually have other friends?” Tim asked.
“Let’s say I pretend.”
Everyone laughed, and Cynthia shot Dell a grateful look. Still, her brow remained deeply furrowed, and she barely glanced at her food. Cal let his gaze wander in the direction of the stairs Cynthia had come down. Earlier that day, she had been so much more relaxed. Now she was as tight as a bowstring. Who — or what — had done that to her?
At least it didn’t seem to be his fault, as he concluded when Cynthia flashed him a genuine smile.
“Okay, everybody. Dig in.” Dell waved, taking his seat.
Silverware clattered, and dishes were passed back and forth, with seconds and thirds served. Cal had no idea what the main course was — some kind of Thai-style chicken, maybe? It was good, but he was too tuned in to Cynthia to really taste the food. She kept eyeing the horizon, and when she did remember her food, she stabbed at her plate as if picturing an enemy.
Conversation went on all around them, but Cal tuned out, trying to think of something that would cheer Cynthia up.
Adirondacks. Nighttime. Boathouse, his wolf hummed.
Bittersweet memories washed over him as he thought back to his very first night with Cynthia. A night he’d replayed countless times over the past years whenever he found himself losing hope.
He closed his eyes and let his senses fill in the details. The scent of fall leaves carpeting the ground. The silver lines of moonlight rippling over a long, narrow lake. The sound of music drifting across the water and the warmth of Cynthia in his arms.
And just like that, he drifted away from Maui and into that perfect Adirondack night. A thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime kind of night, because it had been his first with Cynthia. The first of what he’d hoped would extend over a lifetime…
He caught that thought and reeled it back. That wouldn’t help Cynthia unwind. Only the good parts would, so he concentrated on those. The haunting call of a loon, the wingbeats of geese heading south. The brilliant fall colors of the forest, mesmerizing even when viewed as shades of gray in the dark. And above all, the enduring sense of peace.
Cynthia sighed quietly, so Cal kept it up, carefully shielding his thoughts from the others and aiming them all toward her. He imagined the creak of the steps as they climbed to the second floor of her father’s boathouse. The squeak of rusty door hinges letting them into the loft. The soft heaven of the mattress he and Cynthia sank into. The tangy goodness of her lips, opening under his.
Cal took a deep breath, trying not to let things get too X-rated. But it was hard, what with Cynthia so close. A good thing the others didn’t seem to notice.
“…too much acidity in the soil…” Sophie was saying. Or was that Hailey?
“…but I still need to adjust the curve of the rails…” someone else said. Jenna? Cal couldn’t tell, because half his mind was on Cynthia, and the other half was in the past.
Kiss me… Cynthia’s eager whisper echoed in his mind.
Cal’s fingers twitched as he relived the silky feel of her skin under layers of clothing he helped her out of, one by one. His hand cupped her breast — at least, in his head, it did — and he could feel her heart race.
Something moved beside him, and he opened his eyes long enough to see Cynthia take a hasty gulp of wine. Then he let his eyelids slide down again and dove back into the memories.
Please, please don’t make me beg. Her voice was a whisper on the wind.
His hands slid over the swell of her hips and held her body against his.
Nothing’s off-limits, he’d replied.
The memory was so vivid, he almost believed that too. That nothing was off-limits, and not even a decade of cruel destiny could stand between them. Nothing. No one. Never again.
“Hey, Joey,” Dell said, ripping Cal out of the fantasy. “Are you ready?”
Cal’s head snapped up, and Cynthia’s did too. Dell couldn’t have picked a more poignant reminder of everything that still divided them.
“Ready for what?” Cynthia asked.
“For camping!” Joey squeaked in glee before running inside.
“Anjali and I promised to show Joey how to pitch a tent and sleep out. Remember?” Dell cocked his head.
“Oh. Right,” Cynthia bluffed. “Tonight?”
Tim laughed. “It’s Dell’s way of getting out of washing the dishes.”
“Me and Quinn are the cowboys, and Dell and Anjali are the Indians,” Joey explained, clearly thrilled.
Anjali let out a wry grin. “Yep. Real Indians. You get it?”
Dell laughed, though the comment seemed to go over Joey’s head.
“Camping out?” Cynthia murmured, still looking a little lost.
Cal couldn’t blame her. Part of his mind — and all of his heart — was still in the Adirondacks.
For the next few minutes, the porch was a flurry of activity as the last bit of food was scraped off the plates. Joey bounded upstairs and back, appearing with a backpack of supplies that Cynthia fussed over as if he were leaving for months instead of one night.
“Your flashlight… Your teddy…”
“I’ve got everything,” Joey insisted as Anjali, Dell, and Quinn waited at the edge of the porch.
Cal could see mommy vibes fluttering around Cynthia like angels’ wings.
“If you need anything…”
“Good night, Mommy.” Joey reached up for a hug.
Cal sighed. It would have been nice to have a childhood like that.
“Good night, sweetie.” Cynthia knelt and enveloped her son in a huge hug, rocking him back and forth.
Cal could see Cynthia force herself away before she — or the kid — got second thoughts. Then she motioned out into the night. “Have a good time.”
“You too,” Anjali called with a mischievous wink.
Dell shot Cal a frown that said, Don’t read into that.
When they all turned and disappeared down a footpath, Cynthia watched for a long time, clutching a column of the porch.
“Well, I guess we’ll get going too,” Jenna announced, pulling Connor up.
“We are?” He looked up from his second helping of dessert.
“Yes, we are.” The she-dragon’s voice was firm as she dragged her mate toward the stairs.
“We’ll do the dishes,” Tim said, heading to the kitchen.
Hailey shot out an arm and redirected him toward the stairs while nodding to Cal behind Tim’s back in some kind of hint he didn’t understand. Then it hit him.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Cal rushed to say. “It’s the least I can do.”
“We’re happy to help,” Chase added.
Tim growled under his breath and pinned Cal with yet another look of warning. Yeah. We’ll help — and keep an eye on you, wolf.
“We would love to help,” Hailey agreed, pulling Tim toward the stairs. “But sadly, we can’t. Remember tha
t project you said you’d help me with tonight?”
“What project?” Cal heard Tim ask as they disappeared into the night.
Hailey’s answer was lost as another two chairs scraped across the porch.
“We have to get back to the dogs.” Sophie gave Cynthia an apologetic smile and steered Chase gently in the direction of their house.
“But the dishes…” Chase started.
“Like I said,” Cal murmured. “It’s the least I can do.”
Chase didn’t look so sure, but Sophie’s demure smile made his eyes glaze over slightly, and he followed her down the porch stairs. Clearly, the woman had more on her agenda for the evening than just walking the dogs.
Plus another agenda, Cal suspected when he found himself alone with Cynthia. She was still gazing off in the direction Joey had gone, her hand tight around the banister.
Cal sighed and collected the dishes as silently as he could. The women of Koakea were stars to give him this one-on-one time, and even if it only amounted to washing dishes in Cynthia’s company, he’d take what he could get.
He made three trips, carrying plates and platters to the kitchen, then filled the sink with warm water, squirted it with soap, and rolled up his sleeves.
“Hey,” Cynthia whispered.
He glanced up to see her leaning against the doorway, watching him.
“Hey.” He nodded back.
He stirred the water in the sink until the soap sudded up, then circled the sponge over a dish.
Cynthia sighed and gestured over her shoulder. “Sorry. They guys can be a little…overprotective.”
“Good,” Cal grunted, and he meant it.
For the next few minutes, neither of them spoke, and the only sound was the quiet swish of water or the muted clink of silverware. Well, that was the only sound in the house. Outside, Maui was more alive than ever, with chirping crickets and the distant crash of surf.
Cynthia stepped forward, and they fell into a system without so much as a word. He pre-washed the dishes, and she loaded them into the dishwasher while he scrubbed the pots and pans. Then she stood beside him, drying each of the remaining items as he placed them in the rack. Once again, she was so near yet so far, and he ached to pull her close.
“Everything okay?” he murmured, keeping his eyes on the frying pan he washed next.
“Sure,” Cynthia said, a little too breezily.
If she’d left it at that, he’d have figured it meant, I don’t want to talk right now. But a moment later, she added, “Why do you ask?”
Which was about as clear a signal a woman could send that she wanted to talk.
So he replied, trying to keep his voice light. “You came to dinner looking like you were ready to murder someone, and you’re still a little tense.”
He left out the part in between when she’d started slipping over toward sensual, as he had.
Cynthia straightened her shoulders. “I am perfectly relaxed.”
Cal’s inner wolf stole close enough to the surface to growl, I’d like to show her relaxed.
Another flurry of heated images rushed through his mind, and he shuffled slightly, fighting the tightness in his groin.
Beside him, Cynthia stiffened and cleared her throat.
Cal hid a smile. “My mistake, then.”
Not a mistake, his wolf growled, sniffing the air. She remembers too.
When he reached his mind toward hers, her thoughts were a jumble. But images of the two of them wrapped around each other that night in the Adirondacks definitely occupied one corner of her mind.
Cynthia whisked the dish towel over a pan then hung it on a hook with a sharp clang. A moment later, she spoke in a tight voice.
“I made a phone call. One I’ve been meaning to make for a long time. I just wish I could have talked in person instead.”
Cal frowned. “Talked to who?”
Cynthia let half a second go by before muttering, “Moira.”
The pot Cal was washing slipped out of his hands and disappeared with a splash that splattered suds as far as his chin.
“Moira?”
Cynthia shushed him and shot a pointed look toward the porch. Everyone had gone, but if anyone caught wind of Moira’s name, they would come rushing back.
“Yes, Moira,” she growled.
He stared. “You called her? Why?”
Cynthia set the pot down with a firm thump. “Oh, you know,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “I just wanted to get a few things off my chest.”
It was all Cal could do to finish the dishes instead of grabbing Cynthia’s shoulders and demanding to know more.
“But she might—” he started quietly.
“Find out where I am?” Cynthia snorted. “She’s known for a while.”
“How do you know?”
“She admitted as much to Dell.”
His jaw dropped. “Dell?”
Cynthia nodded without showing any emotion, and Cal had no choice but to wait for her to say more. He pulled the plug, draining the sink, and scooped the scraps out of the strainer before rinsing his hands.
“Moira had quite a few things to say,” Cynthia went on.
Cal froze, then hurriedly dried his hands. “And you believed her?”
Cynthia made a face. “Some things, yes. Others, no. Believe me, I can tell the difference now.”
Cal understood the bitterness in her tone. If he could have gone back in time and given Cynthia that ability a decade ago…
She hung the last pot on the pegboard and stood facing it rather than him.
“So…” Cal finally prompted, edging around to watch her eyes.
Cynthia made a face. “It was the usual delightful conversation. Including her saying, ‘Don’t get too comfortable on that farm of yours.’”
Her eyes blazed, and he could hear her inner dragon growl something like, It’s a plantation, it’s home, and we’ll get as comfortable as we damn well please.
His hackles rose. Typical Moira — posing veiled threats.
“You think she’s planning something?”
Cynthia made a face. “I know she is. The question is when. How. Where.”
Her eyes drifted out the door. The kitchen faced the central hallway, and the view opened all the way across the porch and into the darkness of night. A firefly flickered, and the tiki torches that lined the walkway danced in the night. Cal gazed out, balling his fists.
“Anyway…” Cynthia murmured, then trailed off, looking into his eyes.
Another quiet minute ticked by, and Cal had the distinct feeling she was brimming with more. A huge, oppressive something she simply had to share. But when she opened her mouth—
Something flickered through her eyes, and her lips sealed again. When she finally spoke, it was with a note of defeat.
“Well, it’s getting late.”
He nodded dumbly.
“Better get to bed,” she added, in a voice that begged him not to let her go.
Cal stood still, not sure what to do. Then, idiot he was, he echoed her words. “Better get to bed.”
It was as if destiny was in the kitchen, determined to fuck up his one last chance by making him say the opposite of what he really meant.
Don’t go, Cynthia. Stay. Let me touch you. Hold you. Kiss you.
Cynthia stepped toward the stairs — the demarcation line to her private turf that no one ever crossed. Her movements were mechanical, as if she were a marionette controlled by a cruel puppeteer. She paused with one foot on the bottom step and looked back at him with huge, hopeful eyes.
“Good night,” she whispered.
His heart pounded. His fingers twitched. His wolf howled.
No! Don’t let her go!
But pride was a funny thing. It could keep a man from reaching out and grabbing his wildest dreams. It could parade the past before the windows of your mind, making damn sure the pain and betrayal sank deep. Deep enough to form a chasm you could never, ever cross, even if it meant losing your
mate.
“Good night,” he heard himself echo.
Still, neither of them budged. They just stood there, eyes locked, chests rising and falling, brows sweaty despite the cool evening breeze.
Cal would have sworn that another almost encounter was about to slip out of his grasp, when fury swept through him. Was he really fool enough to let the woman he loved go?
His blood rushed. His cheeks heated, and his back itched the way it did when his wolf threatened to take over.
No, his inner beast barked.
And just like that, he was striding across the floor. Purposefully. Intently. His eyes never left Cynthia’s lips, and the moment he got close—
The imaginary barrier that had been looming between them crumbled, and they fell into a huge, hungry kiss. Their bodies collided. Their tongues tangled. Their hands bumped. Like they had to make up for a decade of abstinence in a single, fiery moment.
Heart pounding, he laced his fingers through Cynthia’s, raised her hands over her head, and crushed his lips against hers. She opened her mouth eagerly as he pinned her against the wall.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
Chapter Thirteen
For a few breathless moments, all Cynthia could do was wrap her fingers around Cal’s and hang on. Her body was on fire, and her blood rushed.
Yes! Yes! We have our mate back again! her inner dragon cried.
Technically, he had her, nice and tight against his hard body. But that was fine too.
She panted, trying to touch Cal everywhere at once. His chest. His shoulders. His face. A sound escaped her lips that was right on the border of a laugh and a sob, and she had no idea which. Either was perfectly possible, given the way she felt.
“I missed you so much…” she whimpered between kisses.
“Missed you too much,” Cal murmured back, and she could feel the pain coded into his words. The world didn’t often summon something that was too much for Cal, and for him to admit as much…
She imagined all her pain, all her loneliness, and all her regrets, then turned around and imagined them all from his point of view. How much had it pained Cal to see her come and go with Barnaby? Worse, to see her pregnant and then cuddling that other man’s child?
A sob racked her, but Cal’s insistent kiss pulled her back from the brink.
