by Kim Pritekel
Dean did as he was told, watching as the big man swam toward the other logs, wrapping powerful arms around two before grunting as he turned them around, holding on as he kicked back toward shore. Dean followed.
“Well, hell, doesn’t seem that worked all that well,” Pam snickered, shielding her eyes with a deeply tanned hand, watched her boys return from an attempted fishing trip. She heard Denny chuckle behind her.
“Nope. Don’t you hate it when your plans fall apart at the seams?”
“I told them to use the double knot-“
“-and tie the vine around the other way, too,” the brunette added as the women headed back into the jungle, sharing a knowing grin. “Men.”
“No doubt. You’re the smart one,” Pam said with a roll of her eyes, making her equally deeply tanned companion laugh.
Rachel sat perched in a tree, watching out over the beach and ocean, legs drawn up and stiff sheet of paper resting on her thigh. Her hand was poised over the page, unmoving as she watched the approach of Denny and Pam. Green eyes rested on the lithe figure of the brunette, noting yet again how much Denny’s eyes nearly glowed electric blue from the sun-darkened skin of her face. When she smiled, as she was at the moment, her teeth were like a mega-watt light bulb tuned on. In a word, she was beautiful.
Dragging her eyes from the coffee shop owner, she turned her attention back to the page she’d been working on all morning. Rachel had no idea she could write so tiny, but space was of a precious commodity, and she already knew it wasn’t going to last much past the end of the year, and they were in late November as it was. Thanksgiving was sometime soon, or past, but they’d all decided to celebrate it that night. Michael and Dean were out attempting their newest rig, since their former fishing raft had been long swept away from the wicked tropical storm that had stripped them of everything they’d managed to salvage and make.
That was okay; what they had rebuilt was better, anyway. They’d learned a heavy lesson, and used that knowledge beautifully. Just beyond a small cluster of palms to the author’s left was their new shelters, built with ingenuity and practicality. The same basic skeleton had been used, Pam, Rachel and Dean painstakingly weaving grasses and leaves to once again wrap around trunks of trees that had survived the storm, forming the shape. The massive amounts of fallen trees and branches proved perfect building materials, enabling them to reinforce their structures and make more sturdy walls and roofs, which helped to keep the cold night wind and winter rains.
Rachel brushed her bangs out of her face, growling when they fell back into her eyes. Her hair had grown immensely, falling in shaggy golden waves all over her head, though her bangs were just long enough to be a menace. As she finished her creative thought on paper, she blew a breath up to blow the annoying hair out of her eyes. What she wouldn’t do for a pair of scissors!
The blonde’s attention was grabbed from her story once more when she heard a slight groan, though muffled, coming from near the waterfall. Curious, Rachel climbed down from her perch with the swift grace of hours of climbing to find food or hunt for the perfect leaf. With stealthy steps and hops over fallen trees, she followed the noise, which had turned into a deep moan.
Rachel felt her stomach flutter in suspected anticipation of what she would find, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. She knew she should probably turn right back around and mind her own business, but just in case it wasn’t what she thought, and there was a problem, she decided to continue forward. About to round the bend into a slight clearing before hitting the new river they had in the middle of their island, Rachel stopped, biting her lower lip. The moaning was getting slightly louder, though she could tell there was an attempt being made to keep it down.
Mentally the author pinpointed everyone she’d seen, and their current positions: Michael and Dean were playing surfer boys with their fallen logs; Denny and Pam were talking quietly amongst themselves somewhere near the girls’ hut. Rachel was hiding behind a chunk of foliage playing peeping Tom. That left Mia.
Green eyes wide, the blonde peeked around her hiding place, seeing the waterfall and nook behind it. The barest hint of flesh color could be seen behind the roaring water, along with slight movement. A loud groan followed by a gasp sent the blonde loping back into the darkness and relative safety of the dense foliage, her heart pounding.
I can’t believe I did that. That was so bad. Getting my jollies peeking at Mia in, well, less than public circumstances.
Rachel felt guilty as she headed out of the jungle, her own horribly neglected nether regions letting her know in no uncertain terms that they could also use a little attention.
“I’m such a letch,” she muttered, noting Dean and Michael dragging what was left of their mighty fishing vessel to shore. “You guys didn’t wrap that second vine around, did you?” she asked, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts, and for her cheeks returning to their natural color. Dean glared but said nothing. Michael sighed, pushing his hair off his forehead and rubbing at his beard.
“Really thought it’d work,” he muttered absently, staring down at the remnants.
Rachel snorted. “I know.” She patted the man on his freckle-ridden shoulder and headed off toward the girls’ hut. “Hey,” she said, ducking so she wouldn’t knock her head, again, on the low-rise door frame. Denny, who sat alone in the center of the hut, which was larger than the last one, looked up from the cocoanut shell she was scooping.
“Hey. Want some?” She offered the half-shell to the author, who took it, happily scooping out two fingers full of the pure white substance. She hummed as she sucked in first one finger, then the second, tongue licking off the cool cocoanut. Denny’s eyes were locked on her mouth and finger, blue eyes unable to look away.
Oh, god.
Denny forced herself to look away, concentrating on her lunch of cocoanut and water instead. She could feel the blonde, who had sunk down to sit next to her, the warmth from her sun-kissed skin, the warmth of her very presence. Dan it!
“So what do you-“ Rachel cut herself off, stunned when suddenly her companion disappeared through the grass flap of their shelter. Confused, and a little worried, the blonde followed, afraid that maybe Denny had heard something, a problem. When the blonde looked around the dense foliage around her, she saw no hint of the other woman. Nor was she on the beach. It was like the brunette had vanished.
“You lost, blondie?” Dean asked, on his way to the waterfalls to rinse off the sticky salt water.
“No,” Rachel said absently, her brows still drawn together. “Have you seen Denny?”
Dean turned in a small circle, scanning his surroundings. “Nope. Sorry, Rach.”
“S’kay.” Sighing, a small sense of disappointment, and even crazier, hurt, filling her. She headed back to the shelter for her afternoon nap.
Denny took several deep breaths, allowing the warm air to fill her lungs and get her body under control. From her vantage point in the tree, she could see out over the entire island, and the ocean all around them, though the pounding surf had been muted by distance. Her heart was pounding, her palms sweating.
Abstinence was not in Denny’s makeup, and she was caught in a fierce battle waged inside. Everyday it seemed she was drawn more to Rachel, and was fighting to keep the image and memory of Hannah alive. She tried to close her eyes and bring up her partner’s face, her voice, her body, a certain time they made love… When she had it, when the image would come into focus, it was ripple and shatter, only to be replaced by beautiful green eyes.
“I can’t do this.” Hannah had been, was, the love of her life, and Denny couldn’t forget that fact, nor could she just allow her body’s base needs to overrule her heart or what was right. She had slowly found herself trying to deny the attraction to Rachel Holt, telling herself it was that basic need that made her skin tingle every time the blonde was around her, but honest was the best policy, and Denny couldn’t lie to herself anymore. “Shit, shit, shit!”
* * *
Dinner had been good, the rare treat of birds, two of them, for dinner, rather than fish, which everyone was tired of. No matter how many different ways it was cooked, it was still fish. Pam had taken special care over the couple week, crushing all the berries she found, using them to mix with water, creating a weak Kool-Aid of sorts, which everyone had sucked up with a desperation for something different, if even in small amounts.
Stomach full, body partially warm, but her mind troubled, Rachel lay awake. She turned onto her side, bringing the newly weaved grass mat further up her body, sneezing as a blade tickled her nose. The sound opened two blue eyes, which were then staring into Rachel’s. The author was deeply bothered by what had happened earlier in the day, Denny hurrying out of the shelter, then disappearing until it was time to help with dinner. Even during the meal, which had been filled with not only good food, but laughter and war stories of Thanksgivings past, Denny had been strangely quiet, never once meeting the blonde’s concerned gaze. Even their usual wishes of a good night’s sleep had been skipped.
“Did I piss you off?” Rachel whispered, mindful of the two sleeping women behind her. Denny, who slept next to a wall, sighed quietly, then shook her head. She could see the hurt in Rachel’s eyes, and it pained her that she’d put it there.
“No,” she finally whispered back.
“Then why have you been avoiding me today?”
She had Denny there. Why indeed? So I wouldn’t do something stupid to make you hate me, or me hate myself. She knew she couldn’t tell the blonde this, so Denny wracked her brain, trying to think of a good excuse, and then a way to not let it show that the author made her blood burn.
“I just needed some time alone today. That’s all.”
Rachel heard the explanation, and in some part of her mind it made sense, but for some reason she didn’t believe the coffee shop owner. Even so, she didn’t push it, but instead nodded in acceptance to the explanation. She was silent for a moment, watching the brunette’s face, blue eyes once again straying from the scrutiny. As Rachel studied Denny’s face, she thought that the brunette was perhaps the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen; a beauty that both intimidated her and drew her closer. Suddenly she felt a need for just that.
“Cold night,” she whispered, feeling shy and manipulative. Yes, it was definitely cooling off, but the blonde knew she could sleep fine. For the first time in her life, Rachel felt the need to be physically close, share personal space, with someone. She wasn’t sure if it was to somehow comfort the troubled Denny, or herself.
Denny’s eyes flickered up to meet Rachel’s, her heart beginning to pound in her throat. She knew what the blonde was asking, and swallowed heavily as she knew she couldn’t deny her. Rachel was cold, and wanted to be warmed. With a small nod, Denny lifted her arm in invitation, much like Rachel had done for her the night of the storm, and the last time they’d shared body heat.
Rachel glanced over her shoulder, making sure Pam and Mia were still asleep. For some reason, she felt like what she was about to do was… wrong. Turning back to the brunette, Rachel clutched her mat to herself as she scooted the short distance to Denny, turning to her other side to give her back to the taller woman.
Denny tried not to make it too obvious as she inhaled the natural scent of the blonde, who’s body was barely gracing her own. “Comfortable?” she whispered into Rachel’s ear. At the blonde’s nod, Denny allowed herself to relax, concentrating on keeping her companion warm, and not her raging hormones.
Rachel was indeed comfortable, too comfortable for her own liking. She was beginning to wonder if it had been a had idea. She felt a peace wash over her as Denny’s hand came to rest lightly on her waist, the barest brush of the tops of long thighs against the backs of Rachel’s. Without her knowledge or permission, the blonde suddenly realized that her own hand had covered Denny’s, pulling gently until their conjoined hands came to rest on her stomach, this move forcing the brunette a bit closer.
Denny squeezed her eyes shut, willing her fingers to remain still, as well as the pounding in her nether regions.
Rachel felt deeply comforted, as though everything were okay. She closed her eyes, sighing softly as she fell into sleep, no idea that her sleep-mate was wide awake, and praying to Apollo, the sun god, that he would shine soon. She also missed a pair of dark eyes, hiding their presence under dark lashes, watching.
* * *
Hazel eyes took in the elegance of the restaurant around him. He’d never been to Boston before, though he’d had a few opportunities with Rachel. He wished he’d taken her up on those. It didn’t help things that the last time the author had been to Bean Town, Matt had declined so he could get to know Diane better.
“There she is.” Will pushed back from the table when he spotted the blonde pilot, waving her over. Garrison smiled when she saw the architect, weaving her way through the busy establishment, taking Will’s offered hand, then Matt’s.
“Hey, boys.” Allowing Will to push her chair in for her, the blonde studied her two companions. She smiled at the waiter he suddenly appeared, giving him her drink order before turning back to her clients. “I’ve contacted a friend of my father’s, Jake Potter, who is a cartographer. He used to make maps during the Korean War. He’s charted me the entire area of the Caribbean.”
“How did he do that?” Matt asked, dark brows drawn, bringing up his beer to sip.
“He researched every single map he could find of the area, and basically made a compilation map for us.” Thanking the waiter who brought her seven and seven, Garrison sipped before she continued. “I’m thinking it would be better to wait out the holidays, maybe give it another go come spring-“
“Come spring?” Will felt instant anger grip him. Leaning forward on the table and lowering his voice, though the intent was clear. “Garrison, if we wait until spring, we won’t find a goddamn thing!”
“Will-“ Matt tried to get the man to calm.
“No,” the architect cut him off, determined to make his point. “If we’re going to find anything, we’ve got to take the bull by the horns and do it now. What if he’s drifting out there somewhere, on some,” he stumbled over his own thoughts, rage and profound grief clogging his throat, “some floating seat cushion! If we wait, he’ll be dead.”
Garrison reached across the table, intending to cover the man’s larger, well-manicured hand, but it was yanked away. Eyes turned to the sound of scraping as the chair was shoved back, the tall, good-looking man with sandy hair storming toward the front of the restaurant.
“Shit.” Garrison shoved her own chair back, leaving Matt wide-eyed and wondering what the hell to do.
Will heard his name called as he headed out into the winter wonderland that was Boston, the noisy city crashing in around him.
“Damn it, stop!” Garrison ran after the man who had much longer legs than her own, but finally she caught up to him, snagging his London Fog-clad arm, and whirling him around. Sad, tired eyes looked down at her. Before she knew what hit her, the pilot found herself with a bundle of sobbing Will in her arms. She held him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, feeling an amazing amount of affection for the sweet man as he cried. Suddenly she got it, and had never felt more determined to help him. “Okay, Will. Okay.”
“Alright, so, what have we got here?” Keller Davies said, tossing another corn chip into her mouth, doused with salsa. Her blue eyes met those of the two men and her partner, who stood around the dining room table in Will’s suite. Her dark hair was kept out of her face by a light blue and gray doo-rag.
“Well, I’m thinking that we start mapping out some of the land masses,” Garrison said, sitting back in her chair, ankles crossed on the table’s edge. She folded her fingers over her stomach. Keller nodded in agreement.
“Maybe Jake can help out, or any number of Frank’s war buddies.”
Matt watched the two women talk and work together, their harmony obvious as they seemed to read the other’s mind and then f
inish her sentence. It was a foreign concept to him, and wondered if he and Rachel could have ever had that.
“One thing, Will,” Garrison said, a note of apology in her voice. “this is our busiest season right now, so you have to understand that.”
The architect nodded, munching on his own salsa-doused chip. “I do.”
“Okay. So,” she clapped her hands together, booted feet hitting the ground with a thud. “I think we’ve got a plan of action, and I’ll make some calls, see what I can come up with.” Keller began rolling up the map that was smoothed out over the table, that Jake had drawn up, Garrison getting to her feet.
“Wait,” Matt said, something niggling at him, and speaking his mind for the first time that night. “What’s to say we can find anything when the authorities couldn’t?” His eyes darted back and forth between the two women, who stared at each other across the table. Finally Keller’s blue eyes settled on him.
“Because we’re the best.”
* * *
Hannah wiped her mouth, still unable to stop the giggle from causing more Pepsi to spout out from between her lips. “I’m sorry,” she managed, watched in amused agony as Tiffany wiped her sweater, a good-natured glare aimed at the researcher.
“I’ll forgive you. This time.” She chuckled, remembering the look on Hannah’s face when she’d realized she’d just spit soda all over the redhead when she’d accidentally made her laugh with her impression of George W. Bush.
“Oh, this time, huh?” Hannah chuckled, sitting back against Tiffany’s couch, feet curled up under herself. They’d spent an amazing day together, Christmas shopping and laughing. Oh, how Hannah needed to laugh! Tiffany was one of the funniest people she’d ever met, and had the rare capability to reach inside the brunette’s well-guarded heart, making her forget about her problems, and give her life a bit of light that went out when Denny died. “And if it happens again?” Am I flirting? She felt slightly giddy at the thought, though slightly panicked. She knew she could trust Tiffany. They had become great friends, and it felt good.
