Harvest Moon

by Sharon Struth

  Trent removed a few. “Very funny.”

  “I wasn’t being funny.”

  She tried to keep a straight face, only it fell apart in a matter of seconds. They laughed together, the tense moment broken.

  “So tell me some stories about this place.”

  She fished out a few nuts. “Once Meg drank so much that she threw up three times on the rowboat ride back home.”

  “Poor Meg.”

  “Hmmm. Oh, another time Jay gave Sophie a joint. We came over here to smoke it, but when we started, none of us really knew how to inhale. We were way too embarrassed to go back to ask Jay for advice.”

  “I’ll be sure to bust Sophie’s chops about that one.”

  Veronica’s mind drifted to the day she’d skipped school in twelfth grade with her boyfriend, Tommy Evans. They’d snuck to this island, tossed a blanket on the ground, and she’d lost her virginity.

  “Those must be great memories.” Trent watched her, a glimmer in his eye as if he could read her thoughts.

  Stretching her legs in front of her, she crossed them at the ankles. “This was a big make-out spot.”

  His gaze softened, making her want to reach out and run a hand along his unshaven cheeks or surprise him by brushing her lips to his. Instead, she tipped the snack toward him. “Want some more?”

  “Thanks.” He opened his palm.

  She poured some into the center. “This would be a good place to hide if there was a zombie apocalypse.”

  He laughed, loud and hearty. “That’s the last thing I’d have expected you to say.” His voice softened, quite sexy. “So tell me, Ms. Sussingham, what really lurks behind this beautiful librarian exterior? Tales of zombies? Vampires?”

  Her cheeks burned. “Hey, librarians are the tour-guides of knowledge.” She batted her lashes and he grinned. “That and the kids coming into the library looking for zombie books. Plus, Cassidy and I discussed hideouts for the zombie apocalypse. This place ranks number four. Walmart was first.”

  “Wow.” Trent popped the nuts into his mouth, brushed his hands together, and drew his knees to his chest, resting his arms on them. “I feel old.”

  “I hear you.”

  She tipped the bag in his direction again, and he shook his head. She fished out a few more and popped them slowly into her mouth.

  He turned her way. “Changed my mind. I’ll have one.”

  One nut remained in her palm. She positioned it between her fingertips and brought it toward his parted lips. He kept his gaze locked on hers while she slowly neared. “You don’t bite, right?”

  “I won’t bite you.” He lifted his brows.

  She placed the nut to his soft, welcoming lips. A corner of his mouth lifted with a grin, making her insides churn with an urge to kiss him and draw back at the same time. She slipped it between his lips, and warmth brushed her fingertips. Her gaze drifted to his eyes, where she fell into them all over again.

  They stared at each other while he chewed, and then he said softly, “Thank you.”

  “Any time.” Veronica rolled up the nut bag and tossed it aside, aware of the desire for Trent raging inside her.

  Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at the blue sky. “When we were kids, maybe sixth grade or so, we’d come over to this island and pretend we’d been shipwrecked. The game we played was ‘What would you bring?’, where we’d each name three things we’d bring if stranded here.”

  “What’d you pick?”

  “Always a book—but the titles would vary. Fresh drinking water—because I’m nothing if not practical—and paper, pencil, and a glass bottle.”

  “That’s five.”

  She passed a quick glance his way. “That’s what Bernadette would say, too.”

  “Well, I used to be a lawyer too, so…” He shrugged.

  “Anyway, I’d count the last three as a preassembled kit.”

  “Why were they so important?”

  “Two reasons. First, I could use them to write a note to go inside the bottle, release it in the lake, and hopefully get some help.”

  “And the second?”

  “To give me something to do while waiting. I enjoy writing poetry and short stories.”

  A teeny twig dropped from the tall trees surrounding them and landed on her stomach. Trent reached over and picked it off, his fingertips grazing the thin nylon of her swimsuit. She tried to ignore the spark inside her body. “What would you pick?”

  “I’d have picked my baseball mitt and a ball—considered one item by your rules, my guitar, and the largest bag of red licorice available to mankind.” He looked out to the water, a distant mist in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have cared if anybody ever found me.”

  “Why not?”

  He glanced her way, his brows raised, mouth tense. “Did you know I was adopted into the Jamieson family?”

  She nodded, the one fact Sophie had shared about the family when Duncan had first arrived in town.

  Tight muscles on his face relaxed as he twirled the twig he’d taken off her in his fingers. “Well, it’s complicated. My father didn’t want to adopt me, but my mother did. I don’t think he’s ever really liked me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, blinked at the dense trees.

  “Is Duncan a good brother?”

  “The best. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s tried to make up for our dad’s behavior, especially since…” He met her eyes. “Too much of a downer for such a nice day. Everyone has history. Otherwise people wouldn’t be writing books like the one you’re reading.”

  They sat quietly, although she was dying to know what he’d been about to share.

  He tapped her leg with his hand. “Hey, I’ve got an idea for a new island game.”

  “Is it like when you tricked me into singing or attempted to blindfold me?”

  “I’m pleading the fifth on that one. How about we each tell the other something they’d never know about us.”

  She brushed an ant off her ankle. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s play my game this time.”

  His face brightened. “Pearls has a game? Bring it on.”

  She rolled to her side, propped on an elbow, and cradled her head in her palm. “Give me five words to describe you. Both good and bad things.”

  “Only five? Come on. That’s not—”

  “Is your first argumentative?”

  He laughed. “I can be. Okay I’ll make that number one. Two is musical.”

  “I remember. You gave John Travolta a run for his money.”

  He squinted into the distance, deep concentration settled in his furrowed forehead. “Misunderstood.” He turned his head her way. “Sometimes what comes out of my mouth isn’t always what I mean.”

  She nodded. “Interesting. Next.”

  “Okay, for the record, this isn’t me saying this, but…” Shyness swept his expression, something she’d never seen in him before. “My buddies think I’m a ladies’ man.”

  “That’s two words, but I’ll allow it.” She’d heard the same from Duncan about Trent, but maybe it was more a perception than a reality. “And the last one?”

  He stared at the twig and snapped it in two. “Substance free and sober.”

  She remembered he’d order a non-alcoholic beer at Griswold’s. “So you weren’t at some point.”

  He turned and stared at her through hard eyes, as if he dared her to look away. She didn’t.

  “I had a drug problem for many years. Now I stay away from booze, too. I think it helped lead me to some bad choices.”

  “How long have you been substance free?”

  “Three years. Not a stitch.” His expression remained passive, yet she heard the lift of pride in his voice.

  “Congratulations. You should be proud. Very proud.”

  He remained quiet, twiddling the broken twig in his hands and staring at it blankly. “I did some shitty things in my
drug days. Things that caused me to get fired from my dad’s law firm, things that could have hurt RGI after Duncan hired me.”

  “Duncan seems like your biggest supporter now, so that means something.”

  He nodded, but kept his head down.

  Veronica ached for the obvious pain his actions had caused him. “Is working at a vineyard difficult?”

  “Yes and no.” He tossed the broken twig aside and stared at her. “I took this job to test my resolve.”

  “Was it a good decision?”

  He drew in his lips, thought for a second. “I’ve always been someone who feels like I stand on the outside of life looking in, especially during my childhood. For a while when I was married, I seemed to be part of something bigger, but that didn’t work out.” Behind his stare lurked the need for confession and truth. “Strangely enough, being at the vineyard has made me part of something larger than my life, given me a purpose.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I like getting dirty. I work a long day. Jay’s taught me so much about the farm, even though I came here for the marketing. Having something to nurture seems to keep me away from my own problems.”

  Trent’s insights about himself reached deep inside Veronica. Her heart swelled with genuine affection and longing for a relationship with this man.

  He blinked several times, then lowered his voice. “In a way, this whole crazy thing I’m doing here, turning my life upside down, it makes me more optimistic about my future.”

  “That’s a beautiful thing to share.” She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but stopped short. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, closed-lipped and solemn. “Your turn. Bet I already know your five words.”

  She laughed. “Bet you don’t. Want to make a wager?”

  “A gambling woman? Sure. If I guess them, you buy me coffee and a bagel at Griswold’s when we’re done kayaking. If I lose, it’s on me.”

  “Deal.” She stuck out her hand and they shook. “Okay, let’s hear them.”

  He smirked. “Number one. Rule abiding.”

  She scrunched her nose, annoyed he’d named that first. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.”

  “Introvert.”

  “There are worse things in life.”

  “Organized. Very organized.”

  “Ha, that one was easy to guess, besides someone has to be. Imagine the mess.” She couldn’t believe he’d paid so much attention to her, but drank up every single word like a woman dying of thirst.

  He grinned, rubbed his chin. “Now I’d toss in beautiful, but I’m not sure you’d use that to describe yourself.”

  “You are correct, sir.”

  “So I’ll add musical.”

  “Okay, up to four. The pressure is on.”

  He studied her for several seconds, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Ah, yes. The answer is right before me. The last one is….perfect. You’re perfect.”

  Veronica’s good humor stumbled. If he wanted a perfect woman, he was looking in the wrong direction. She rolled onto her back and stared into the blue sky and puffy clouds beyond the treetops. “Nope. You lose.”

  “Okay, if not perfect, then what? Don’t leave me hanging.”

  She didn’t answer right away, but then she turned and stared at his face, hovering above her. “The last one is broken. I’m broken.”

  His smile vanished. “Why would you say that?”

  A wedge formed at the base of her throat and her eyes stung. “I’m not only in the self-defense class for my niece.”

  She waited for him to say that he knew, but he only blinked a few times, then quietly said, “Can you tell me why?”

  She shook her head. “No details, okay?”

  He nodded.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she gathered her courage, then slowly exhaled. “A long time ago, someone broke my spirit. An attack.” She swallowed her pain. “I may not act like it, but class is helping.”

  Sadness spread across his face. He lay next to her, and his hand landed on her shoulder, where he gently coaxed her from her back to her side, so they faced each other. “Maybe there’s a dent, but nothing we can’t fix.”

  Tension she’d been unaware of lifted, the weight of boulders she’d carried for years lessened by his words. Her eyes watered and she fought escaping tears, but one slid along her cheek.

  He reached up and brushed away the tear with a sweep of his thumb. “We’ll fix this together, I promise.”

  She wandered in the sapphire hue of his eyes. Loose strands of his bangs hung carefree near his forehead, so she reached out and brushed them aside. “Thank you.”

  “Pearls, I’d do anything for you.” Grazing a gentle finger along the hollow of her throat, he studied her face. “No pearls for my Pearls when kayaking?”

  My Pearls. Yes, she wanted to be his. She shook her head. “Never.”

  “I like that…My Pearls.” His seductive voice made her insides soften like butter left out on a hot day. “You’re so sexy.” He caressed her neck with his fingertips, moved to her shoulder, slipped beneath the strap of her swimsuit. “I was one step from kissing you yesterday.”

  “I wish you had,” she whispered.

  He wrapped her in his arms, pulled her close to his body, with urgency she’d normally have feared, but she allowed. His lips grazed the spot where he’d touched on her throat, sending a warm current from her toes to her fingertips. Threading his fingers through her hair, he covered her mouth with his, guiding her with the same passion of their bar kiss.

  Trent’s strong hands traveled along her body, touched her exposed skin, and caressed her curves. Warmth coated her lower back as he pressed his palm there, drawing her closer. His kiss demanded more and she let him in, as pleasure unraveled inside her, unleashing her own needs. When he broke the kiss and watched her through lusty eyes, she leaned forward, ran her tongue along the silky curve of his full lower lip.

  “I like that,” he said, deep and throaty. He captured her lips again, over and over.

  An ache for intimacy she’d restrained far too long begged for satisfaction, and she shifted her body against his. His firm hand pressed against her lower back, drew her even closer to him.

  He slowed the kiss, lifted his head. Distant sounds of motorboats and chirping birds mixed with his ragged breath.

  She fingered the loose tendril of hair near his forehead, traced his rugged jaw, and ended at his sturdy chin. “I wish I was a mind reader.”

  He cleared his throat. “I was thinking how when I left this morning, I’d never have guessed I’d end up here, with you.”

  “No?” She dusted his cheek with a fluttery kiss. “I almost always pick up someone on the lake.”

  He chuckled. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” He leaned forward to kiss her again, but the snap of a twig in the woods made them both glance toward the trees.

  “Yo! Uncle Trent?”

  Veronica recognized the voice of Duncan’s son, echoing from the island’s outskirts.

  “It’s either Rocky Balboa or Patrick.” Trent sat up and took her hand. “I’m here,” he yelled. “Stay put. I’ll come to the water’s edge.”

  He helped her into a standing position and then slipped his arms around her waist. “I’m sure glad we ran into each other.”

  “Me, too.”

  The bushes on the trail rustled. Trent gave her a quick kiss and let go just as Patrick broke through the bushes, a vineyard cap covering his sandy colored hair. Duncan came out behind him, brushing off some leaves stuck on his T-shirt.

  Duncan’s looked down at the blanket. He curled the corner of his mouth into a grin. “Are we interrupting anything?”

  “No,” they answered, in unison, sounding as guilty as kids caught with both hands in the cookie jar. Veronica glanced at Trent, and when he smiled, it made getting caught not so bad.

  “Pat and I decided to come out, too. We spotted your kayak but wondered
who you were with.”

  “We ran into each other on the lake. Pearls said she’d show me the hot spots, where the locals go. I’m sure your soon-to-be wife has some stories about this island.” He glanced down at Veronica, a twinkle in his eyes. “In fact, this place has real promise if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse.”

  Duncan’s forehead furrowed. “A what?”

  “Dad.” Patrick looked at his father with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard about the zombie apocalypse?”

  Trent laughed. “Better bring your dad up to speed.”

  While Patrick explained to his father about the world of zombies, she glanced at Trent. He watched her with the same desirous gaze she’d witnessed before their visitors’ arrival, making her womanly urges burn for more than she’d wanted in years.

  Chapter 16

  Veronica poured detergent into the washer, set the cycle, and headed up the basement stairs, lost in thoughts about a strange movie she’d seen with her sister last year. In the film, a man fell in love with his computer operating system. Both Veronica and Emily found the movie’s concept utterly ridiculous.

  Yet now, after meeting a person on the Internet, the idea of falling for a computer system wasn’t so crazy. And as her emotions edged toward Trent, the actions somehow felt like cheating on Ry.

  After coming home from kayaking, she’d taken a stab at some lyrics to Ry’s beautiful music. The muse behind her words was Trent’s comment about the optimism of his new life on the farm. He’d painted a lovely picture of how this simpler, rural existence came with its own set of rewards. Only it was Ry’s music. Using Trent’s experience to form her words somehow clashed inside her mind, the cheating notion again tweaking at her conscience.

  “Good God! You’re an idiot.”

  She opened the refrigerator and stared inside, searching for a something to drink, then removed a can of seltzer and popped open the top. Why was she even worrying about Ry? A real man had dropped into her world. A sexy man. A man who, it seemed, wanted her and was willing to be patient to get her. She gave in to a memory of his touch, still capable of making her insides sizzle with need.