The Hang Up (First Impressions)

by Tawna Fenske

  “Okay,” she said, not wanting to admit she kinda liked the idea of seeing Jason in a tight T-shirt and swim trunks. Was that what people wore to go canoeing? She had no idea, and she probably shouldn’t be thinking about ogling him when they’d have a five-year-old in tow.

  “So can I pick you up in an hour?” he asked.

  “I have no idea what to bring or wear or—”

  “No high heels,” he said. “Keep it casual. Maybe a swimsuit under shorts and a T-shirt or something. And shoes you don’t mind getting wet.”

  “So I’m going to get wet?” She hadn’t meant for the words to sound suggestive, but she wondered if he’d heard them that way.

  The laughter in his voice told her he probably had. “I can’t promise that won’t happen,” he said. “But I’ll do my best to take care of you if it does.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Miriam said, feeling more turned on than reassured.

  Chapter Nine

  Miriam tucked a stray curl behind her ear and stared at the big silver canoe glinting in the sun. It didn’t look terribly dangerous, but looks could be deceiving.

  Like the cherubic-looking five-year-old standing beside her. Looks were definitely deceiving there.

  “Hey, Miss Miriam!”

  She looked down to see young Henry beaming at her with his fist closed tight around something. “Yes?”

  “Wanna hear a dirty joke?”

  “Um—”

  “Mud!” The boy squealed with delight, then opened his palm to reveal a fistful of brown goop. “Funny, huh?”

  Miriam snort-laughed as she fished into the pocket of her shorts for a tissue. She came up with nothing but a breath mint, which probably wouldn’t be too effective for cleaning grubby little hands.

  “That is, without a doubt, the best dirty joke I have ever heard from a five-year-old,” she told him. “Or from most grown-ups, for that matter.”

  “Really?” His eyes got wide at that, as he considered the fact that he’d bested his elders in the realm of dirty joke telling.

  “In the interest of full disclosure, I guess I should admit I’ve never been around kids, but I know plenty of adults who can’t tell a joke like that.”

  “What’s fold-us-clothes-hurt?”

  “Fold clothes—oh, full disclosure?” She tried to think of how to explain it to a five-year-old, then realized she had no earthly idea. This whole kid thing was like another planet requiring an entirely different language.

  It didn’t seem to matter to Henry, who was already wandering off toward the edge of the lake.

  “Don’t get too close to the water,” she called, pretty sure that’s what she was supposed to say as the grown-up in charge. He had a life jacket on, but he probably wasn’t old enough to go wandering into the lake by himself, was he?

  Hell if she knew.

  She glanced back toward the parking lot where Jason had gone to get the rest of their things, but she didn’t see him, and she didn’t feel right taking her eyes off Henry, so she settled for watching the little boy instead.

  He sure was cute. All big ears and huge dimples and little glasses that magnified a pair of blue eyes that looked just like Jason’s. The boy scooped up another handful of mud, whooping as he flung it out over the lake. A cluster of birds swooped down to investigate, then fluttered off when they realized there was no food to be had. Henry looked back at her and laughed, and Miriam smiled back as something warm pooled behind her breastbone.

  She’d always joked that she was born without a biological clock, and she’d never been one to ooh and ahh over babies.

  Still, she’d always been open to the idea that she could change her mind someday. That maybe she’d have the capacity to fall in love, get married, have a child. Then her father died, and the thought of bringing a new life into a world so callous and dangerous seemed much too risky. Besides, she didn’t have it in her to love someone else that much again. Not with such a huge dad-shaped hole still gaping in her heart.

  “How’s it going?”

  She turned to see Jason smiling at her with a picnic basket in his hand. He wore battered-looking cargo shorts that shouldn’t be sexy, but left her drooling with the way they hugged his ass. His T-shirt was practically threadbare, but that just made it easier to see every ripple of muscle beneath it.

  Muscles she’d been well acquainted with a week ago.

  “It’s great.” She glanced back at Henry. “I made sure he didn’t drown, just like you said.”

  “I knew you were up to the task.”

  Spotting his uncle, Henry scurried back over, his hands still streaked with mud. “Uncle Jason! I made sure she didn’t drown, just like you said.”

  Henry held out his little mud-covered palm, and Jason high-fived him without hesitation. The boy turned to Miriam, hand still outstretched, and she paused only an instant before giving it a little smack.

  “Good job,” she said. “I feel much safer with you here.”

  Oddly enough, it was true. What was it about the easy, fun-loving dynamic of these two that left her feeling like she was part of a family again? It was something she hadn’t realized she was missing until just now.

  “Okay, then.” Jason set down the picnic basket and dug out a wet wipe. He handed that to Henry without comment, then turned to Miriam and thrust a long wooden object into her hand. “Shall we get started?”

  “Oh,” Miriam said, frowning down at it. “I didn’t realize I’d have my own rower.”

  “Roar?”

  “Rower. The thing to row the boat?”

  Jason laughed and picked up a roar of his own. “It’s called a paddle.”

  “Not an oar?”

  “No. An oar has a flat blade and is usually fastened to a ship with oarlocks.” He held up his paddle in illustration. “Henry, can you remember the parts of the paddle?”

  Henry frowned in concentration, then pointed to the spot where Jason’s hand wrapped around. “That’s the drip?”

  “Close,” Jason told him. “It’s the grip.”

  “I like his version better,” Miriam said as she did her best to mimic Jason’s hold on the paddle. “How about this part?” she asked, stroking the long middle part of the paddle.

  “That’s the shaft.” Jason gave her a heated smile.

  Miriam stopped stroking it as heat crept into her cheeks. “Right.”

  “And if you slide your hand down the shaft, you’ll get to the throat.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” Jason grinned wider as Henry looked on, luckily oblivious to the adults’ salacious thoughts. “The throat is what connects the shaft to the blade.”

  “This is the blade,” Henry said, whacking Miriam’s paddle with the back of his hand. “But not a blade like for cutting people. Like a ninja has. I’m gonna be a ninja when I grow up. Or a brontosaurus.” He fished a plastic dinosaur from his pocket and held it up.

  “I’m positive you’ll make a very good ninja or brontosaurus,” Miriam assured him as she adjusted her grip on the paddle, mimicking Jason’s hold on his own.

  “Very nice,” he said. “Good grip. You’re a natural.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was being dirty or not, so she settled for a simple “thank you.”

  “So how does this work?” She glanced at the boat they’d hauled down from the car’s roof rack earlier. “Where do I sit?

  “I’m going to have you in the bow,” he said. “I’ll be in the stern, and Henry can hang out right there in the middle where he’ll be nice and safe.”

  “Yes!” The little boy did a fist pump of excitement and clambered into the boat, his little red life jacket almost as rosy as his cheeks.

  Miriam looked back at Jason. “I assume you’re going to tell me which one’s the bow and which one’s the stern?”

  “You’ll be in front facing forward,” he said. “I’ll be behind you.”

  “Got it.”

  The thought of Jason behind her sent a shiver up her spin
e. Was it her imagination, or did he give her a knowing look?

  But instead of saying anything, he reached into the boat and grabbed a bright blue life vest. “This one’s for you. Want help putting it on?”

  “Please,” she said, not sure if she really did want the help, or just wanted him in close proximity.

  He stepped closer, near enough now that she could feel his breath ruffling her hair. He put his arms around her, and she started to fall into the embrace as if by instinct, but she realized at the last second he was merely securing the life jacket behind her.

  “Arms out through the holes,” he said. “That’s it.”

  “Ooof,” she said as he began to tighten the straps around her chest.

  He laughed and fiddled with the strap, grazing the underside of her breast. Was that intentional, or not? Miriam couldn’t tell, but it turned her on just the same.

  “A little snug here,” he said.

  “Does it have to be so tight around my—”

  “Boobies!” Henry shouted from the boat.

  “Right,” Miriam said, nodding at Henry. “Thank you for that.”

  “Girls have boobies and boys have boobies, too,” Henry offered. “But they’re not the same kind of boobies.”

  “True enough, kiddo.” Jason cinched the strap the rest of the way. He let go of it and looked at Miriam. “Sorry, but it does kinda have to be tight. You okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re not going to get hiccups again, are you?”

  “If I do, we’ll have to come up with a family-friendly cure.”

  “Pickle juice!” Henry hooted. “That’s what mommy gives me when I have the hiccups.”

  “That’s one way to do it,” Jason said as he fiddled with one of the buckles on the front of her life jacket, then flashed her a sexy look. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I might be intimately acquainted with a few other options.”

  “So I hear,” she breathed, gripping her paddle a little tighter.

  “Shall we get going?” he murmured. “Before I ravish you right here in the mud and corrupt my poor nephew?”

  “That might be the least sexy idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “Then why are you squirming?”

  She grinned and turned toward the water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Still clutching her paddle, she waded carefully out into the water, sucking in a breath as the cold wetness closed around her ankles. She was grateful she’d worn sandals that could handle the water and the muck, though her pedicure was probably a goner.

  “It’s freezing,” she said.

  “I promise you a foot massage later to make up for it.”

  “Deal.” She grinned. “You sure you want me in front? I’ve never done this before.”

  “That’s why I want you in front. The person in back steers the boat. And ogles the person in front.”

  “Ogles!” Henry shouted from his seat in the middle of the boat. “I wear ogles when I go swimming so my eyes don’t burn.”

  Miriam stifled a giggle and shot a glance at Jason, who was staring pointedly at the back of her shorts. “Yep,” he said. “That’s a big risk sometimes.”

  She snorted and touched the edge of the boat, steadying herself. The water was up to her knees, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to get in gracefully.

  “I’ll hold it steady,” Jason said, reading her thoughts. “You’re safe. Just hop in.”

  Reassured by his words, Miriam anchored the blade of her paddle into the muck at the bottom of the lake. Steadying herself, she swung one leg into the boat, then the other. She planted her butt on the seat, appreciating the dished-out shape that cupped her backside.

  She looked over her shoulder at Jason, who seemed to be thinking scandalous thoughts about her backside. Henry was distracted by the plastic dinosaur cradled in his lap, so he didn’t seem to notice the heated look exchanged by the two grown-ups.

  “Very nice,” Jason murmured as he shot a look at her backside. “I’m going to enjoy this view very much.”

  “Absolutely,” Miriam replied with mock haughtiness. “Not a cloud in the sky, and the mountains look stunning.”

  Jason grinned. “Too bad the life vest blocks my view of the mountains.”

  “Uncle Jason! When I’m big like you, I’m gonna go mountain climbing, too!”

  Miriam felt her smile falter, but she tried not to let either of them see it. She tucked a curl behind her ear and breathed deeply to get her bearings back.

  Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Jason chose to change the subject. “You ready to head out on the water, sport?”

  “Yes! Do I get a paddle?”

  “Nope, not this time.”

  “Does brontosaurus get a paddle?” He held up his dinosaur.

  “You and brontosaurus have another very important job here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re my navigator,” Jason said. “I need you to tell me where to go. You think you can do that?”

  “Yeah, I’m a good nabinator!”

  “That you are.”

  Miriam felt something tugging at her heart, and she watched as Jason gripped the end of the boat and pushed them out into the water. Gripping his own paddle, he slung himself into the rear seat and grinned at her.

  “Ready to do this?”

  Something about that grin sent her stupid libido bubbling again. Dammit anyway. “Are you going to tell me what to do?”

  “I’m getting there. Okay, watch me for a sec.”

  She’d been watching him all morning, admiring those well-defined pecs and biceps that looked like they’d been chiseled out of granite, but that probably wasn’t what he meant.

  “This is a basic forward stroke,” he said. “You want the paddle to be nearly vertical, and your grip hand out over the water.”

  He demonstrated, executing a series of crisp, even strokes that made his muscles ripple, the boat move forward, and Miriam’s whole body hum with desire.

  “You see how my shoulder rotates forward, then I plant the paddle, then rotate my shoulder back as I pull through?”

  “Uh-huh,” Miriam said, trying not to be distracted by those glorious shoulders.

  “You try.”

  “Okay.” She gripped her paddle and turned to face forward. Now that she wasn’t gaping at him like a damn fool, she gave the paddling thing her best shot. “Like this?”

  “Close. A little deeper.”

  The words were perfectly innocent, but they sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to her lady bits just the same. She ordered herself to concentrate, to focus on dipping the paddle into the water like he’d demonstrated. The canoe sliced through the water with ease, propelling them farther out onto the lake.

  “Keep your back nice and straight and draw the paddle along the edge of the boat,” he said. “That’s it. Just like that.”

  “Should I switch sides?”

  “Not unless you want to. I’ll steer from back here, but feel free to switch if your arms are tired or you want to try it out over there to see how it feels.”

  Miriam drove the paddle into the water again, getting the hang of it now. “This is kinda fun,” she said, surprised to realize it was true. “It’s not as tippy as I thought it would be.”

  “You’re a natural,” Jason said, and the pride in his voice made her turn to see his expression. It was equal parts happiness and pleasure and maybe…love?

  No. It couldn’t be. They’d agreed that wasn’t happening. Not for either of them, absolutely not. It was lust, that’s all.

  But with her gaze locked in his, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening here.

  “Why do you guys keep looking at each other like that?” Henry asked.

  Miriam blinked as the spell broke between them. “Like what?”

  “You know…” Henry said, his voice five-year-old singsong. “Like you’re a dog and he’s got a bone you really want.”

&nb
sp; Miriam felt her cheeks go crimson. She was working so hard to stifle a laugh that she had tears pooling in her eyes. Behind her, Jason was making no such effort. He was laughing so hard the canoe began to rock.

  “You’re a real romantic, sport,” he said. “Now turn around and tell me where we’re going.”

  …

  “So this was fun,” Jason said as he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Miriam’s ear.

  Not like she couldn’t fix her own hair, but his need to touch her was so all-consuming that he couldn’t help himself. He let his finger graze the edge of her ear, savoring the soft warmth of her skin and the way her bare knee brushed his.

  They were sitting close together in a patch of sunshine on a picnic blanket, the remains of their lunch spread out between them. On a far corner of the blanket, Henry snoozed in the shade, his little boy body curled tight like a potato bug.

  “It was fun,” Miriam agreed, sounding surprised. “I didn’t think it would be.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “No, really.” She plucked at a blade of grass near the edge of the blanket. “I mean I grew up occasionally doing outdoorsy things with my dad, but never canoeing. And as I got older, I stopped getting to do those things with him.”

  “How come?”

  She shrugged and began to shred the thick blade of grass. “My folks split up when I was ten, and I spent most of my time with my mother after that.”

  “I take it she wasn’t an outdoor enthusiast?”

  Miriam laughed. “My mother makes me look like Davy Crocket. She always saw herself as more of a cross between Martha Stewart and one of the Real Housewives.”

  “Quite a combination,” he said, catching one of her hands in his. “Does she live around here?”

  “No. After the divorce, she moved back east on a quest to become a New York City socialite. I lived with her until I graduated from high school, but came back out here after college.”

  “And here you stayed,” he said, then planted a lazy kiss across her knuckles.

  “Yep. I’m more of a West Coast socialite, minus the actual social scene.”

  He grinned and began tracing the outline of her hand against the picnic blanket, his fingertip dipping and trailing between her digits. “So your folks were pretty opposite?”