Last First Kiss (Brightwater #1)

by Lia Riley

  After a few long uncomfortable seconds, her Realtor forced a bland smile and walked back the way he came.

  “You two have history?” she whispered.

  “Hank King and I? Yeah, suppose we’ve had our share of differences. Mostly about his daughter.”

  “Of course, Ruby.” No escaping small-town drama. Although Annie wondered if Hank knew her married daughter sang about another man’s bologna.

  “Still committed to selling?” he asked evenly, as if this wasn’t a thin-ice topic.

  “Sawyer, I—”

  “You know what?” He shook his head, a determined look crossing his face. “Let’s not talk about the future, or the past, for the rest of the day. The next twenty-four hours are about the present. Me and you, right here, right now.”

  No yesterday and no tomorrow? Sign her up. “I’ll grab my things,” she said, turning back into the house.

  Each of Hank’s distant hammer strikes hit Sawyer worse than a fist. Annie was determined to leave, convinced from this distance that San Francisco looked perfect. But she wasn’t stopping to see what grew here, good and strong, right under her feet.

  He went around to the back of his truck and checked on the supplies. A bottle of red wine, tea lights, enough food to feed a small country, and a large quilt waiting to be opened and spread out beneath the stars.

  This was his last chance to get her to see he wasn’t part of the problem, that running away wasn’t going to give her anything better than what they could have here, together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ANNIE AND SAWYER wandered beneath twisted whitebark, towering red fir, and mountain hemlock. The rich, tangy aroma of sap infused the air as insects hummed in the undergrowth. Sawyer laced his fingers with hers as they descended a nearly unmarked trail to the river. It had been a long time since she’d been here, but as soon as he parked, she’d known. They were headed to their old swimming hollow. Down the slope, water bubbled and purled over boulders, the wild rush complementing her internal turbulence.

  Sawyer promised to catch her if she jumped, and yeah, his hands were big and steady, but falling for a guy like this would be the equivalent of dropping from a plane while holding a bowling ball. She’d squish him like a pancake. He had no idea what he wanted to sign up for.

  Her baggage brought its own carryon luggage.

  The world didn’t have a surplus of good guys, especially those who picked wildflowers but dirty-talked a woman dizzy. She sensed Ruby had put him through the wringer, and the last thing Annie wanted to do was inflict further damage.

  “Whoops, there you go.” He steadied her stumble. It was pretty near impossible to withstand his grin, the memory of that mouth, how it felt against—she tripped again.

  “Sorry, klutz alert,” she mumbled—big mistake to glance from his face to his well-defined forearms. Underneath, veins subtly ran against the muscle. An urge seized her to travel the path of one, with her tongue, to where his shirtsleeves rolled at the elbows.

  “You seem distracted,” he said. “Tired? We can stop for a rest, have a sip of water.”

  “No!” she said, a little too loud. Stopping was a terrible idea. She wanted to drag him beside the creek and bare herself again, offer her body for a taste of the beauty she felt in his arms. “I’m okay,” she amended when his brow furrowed. “Just ready to get there.”

  Sawyer shoved his hands into his hip pockets, his face shifting from humor to intensely observant, an expression those craggy features seemed designed for. This guy had big appetites, for food, for life, for women. Scratch that, not all women. He wasn’t a player, which was odd, because the entire single-female population of Brightwater, and some not-so-single, would no doubt happily play him like an old-timey banjo.

  Why her? That was the mystery. One she didn’t long ponder because the trail leveled and disappeared into a grassy meadow fringed by willows.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time.”

  “I used to come here from time to time.” He set down his bag in the clearing. “But quit eventually. Wasn’t the same without you.”

  Tears threatened. Where had they come from? Her gaze shot to the cliffs across the water. They were taller than she remembered. It was incredible that she used to fling herself off them without a care of what might be lurking below the surface.

  “Hey, why don’t you get in for a quick dip? It’ll be dark soon and I want to set up. The weather report says no rain tonight. How do you feel about sleeping under the stars?”

  There was zero chance she’d sleep a wink beside Sawyer, but best to attempt an enthusiastic nod regardless. “Sounds great.”

  “Going to be another meteor shower tonight.”

  “Of course there is. You conjure them at will, don’t you?”

  “Nah, it’s summer. The right time.”

  The river reflected the soft violet of twilight. “I’ll find a spot to change.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. “Into what?”

  “My bathing suit?” She glanced up from her bag. “You said to pack one.”

  “I did, didn’t I? Well, uh . . . ” He blinked. “I didn’t bring mine.”

  “Oh.” The towel slipped from her grasp.

  “That a problem?” He sat back and his shirt strained his broad chest. All that muscle would soon be out for public consumption. Oh, wait, make that her own personal consumption.

  “No, no. Of course not.” Her comfort zone retreated into the distance, waving farewell with a lace handkerchief.

  “Well, here’s hoping you like what you see.” That wink did things to her, throbbing, ache-filled things.

  As a kid, she skinny-dipped all the time. Dad didn’t care. She doubted he noticed. Claire was the one who had decided they needed to get it together and had purchased subscriptions to magazines, discussed fashion and hairstyles. After arriving in Portland, Annie made an effort, at least tried to wear clothes more or less in style. But once they became covered in baby food and sticky fingers, it didn’t seem worth the annoyance. She wanted Atticus to crawl over her, not be shooed off because he might mess up a cute outfit. Still, she missed getting dolled up on occasion. And she missed being that girl in underwear, muddy knees, and yellow rain boots.

  In the end, the swimsuit won out. First, it was emerald, cut in the style of a ’50s vintage pinup girl. Second, maybe leaving a few things to the imagination would be wise. This place held a strange sort of magic, and she didn’t want to rush, even when—scratch that, especially when—her hormones coursed like the creek.

  She walked toward the banks, a little self-conscious of his watchful eyes. No need to turn and confirm, his gaze warmed the skin between her shoulder blades. Silly that she wore anything really, because this man opened her up, made her want to believe that fairytales were possible. The good stuff that seemed to happen to others waited around the bend for her to gather the courage to continue.

  She dipped her toe in the water, still warm from the summer heat, and yes. Oh, goodness, yes. The temperature was perfect, a balance of hot on the surface and cooler below. She sank to the sandy bottom and rocked her head against a boulder.

  Sawyer approached, face lit from the two candles he carried, flames dancing in the light breeze. His expression was half-hidden in the growing dark, but the light caught the edge of his strong chin, the angles sharply defined.

  And there was his mouth.

  Oh, that mouth.

  “Can I hand these to you?” he asked. She moved forward and plucked the candles from his grasp, settling them on two rocks. The flickering reflected on the water, lit the deep rich green of her swimsuit. The river worked its magic, turning her into something wild and mythic, a dryad.

  He kicked off his boots and set them against the tree in the same slow, purposeful way he did everything. She couldn’t look anywhere else.

/>   “You going to watch me strip?” Beneath his hat she caught a hint of a smile.

  She folded her hands and rested her chin atop them. “It’s hard to resist the show.”

  “Guess I better make it worth your while.”

  She laughed, and somewhere not far off, an owl called. The night arrived in earnest, and over the sound of the rushing water came a subtle metal snap. He’d tugged out his cowboy shirt and now popped open the pearl buttons, one by one.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He flicked back his shoulders and the shirt opened, revealing a powerful chest, thick slabs of muscle without an ounce of fat. His hands slid to his buckle. Was it a trick of the shadows or did he tremble? His jeans opened, and down they tumbled, boxer briefs and all. There he was, Sawyer, naked, wading toward her.

  He didn’t move in a way that hid or seemed embarrassed. In fact, he appeared at home here in this place, in this world. He was as much a part of the landscape as the trees and water.

  “Hey, you.” He smoothed back a damp lock from her forehead as he sank beside her, making a low noise of pleasure as he stretched his shoulders. Lord knew what her hair looked like in this wet humidity, but who cared, because he stared as if he liked what he saw, and the thing about Sawyer was his honesty. If she could trust anyone, he would be it.

  And she wanted to, oh how she wanted to.

  “You look like you need to ask me a question,” he murmured, tilting her chin.

  “Will you be careful with me?”

  He cocked his head, watchful as always. “Are you frightened?”

  “You don’t scare me, but maybe I scare myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Wanting. It’s not easy, at least for me.” He said nothing, but listened, so she kept talking. “I’m afraid if I name what I want, it will become real, and if I don’t get it, it will hurt more.”

  “But, Annie Girl, what if you do get it? What if you say the word and it all just”—he scooped a handful of water and let the silky wetness course down her chest, trickle into the valley between her breasts—“falls into place.”

  She giggled, nervously. “That would be good.”

  “You and me.” He took her hand and lowered it under the surface, resting her palm on his big, broad and very bare thigh. “Think we could be good?”

  The air went out of her lungs. “I’ve wondered,” she murmured dizzily.

  “Have you?” He worked his thumb slowly around her knuckles.

  “Haven’t you?”

  “I used to wonder how you kissed, and now I know. But that makes me wonder other things.”

  She could drown in his sexy smile. “Like what?”

  “How you’d move in my arms, for one.” He pulled her close. Her nipples skimmed his chest. “Would you wiggle like a slippery fish or go all slow and soft?”

  She gasped. “I’d probably explode.”

  “Explode?” He cocked a brow. “And what will happen if you do?”

  “Things will get messy.” Better he knew it now. Her track record in relationships was dismally bad.

  He cupped more water and this time poured it down her shoulders. “Then I’ll clean you up.”

  How could he remain so unperturbed about the fact she was damaged goods, that her heart was dented and had lost its innocent shine? “Why are you so good to me?”

  “I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up.” He kept his voice slow, steady. “We have history, a whole lot of history, that we didn’t write, and that doesn’t make it easy.”

  “No, no it doesn’t.”

  “But as I get older, things that once seemed too hard now feel possible.” He leaned in, and it wasn’t so much a kiss as a promise of one, a barely there graze against her lower lip. He came in closer and grazed her jaw with his teeth, slid all the way to her earlobe and groaned a little. “Got to say, these little things turn me on so much.”

  “My ears?” She giggled, and his answering smile pressed against her skin.

  “They make me want to do dirty deeds.”

  “Like what?” She could barely get the words out.

  “How bad do you want me to show you?”

  In this wet, dark space, with her bones melting from longing, he wasn’t playing fair.

  “You want me to say I’ll stay, before we take things farther.”

  He nodded slowly. “Seems like a better than decent idea.”

  “I—I want you, but I honestly don’t know about Brightwater.” She trailed her finger through the water, making small ripples.

  “Me and this town go together.” It was impossible to get a good read on his tone.

  “I know, just like me and Atticus are a package deal. And I’m not sure if this is the best place for him, for us.”

  “You aren’t sure this is enough.” A sliver of tension cut through his impassiveness.

  “Sawyer.” Her stomach plummeted at the idea of hurting him. “I can’t possibly know that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a mother and need to act like a grown up. Make a list of pros and cons. San Francisco has a lot going for it.”

  He leaned back and regarded her. “Like what?”

  Her mouth tugged in the corner. “You want to talk this out, naked in a swimming hole?”

  He pressed his lips tight and then returned her smile. “No, Annie Girl.” He tugged her bathing suit strap and planted a kiss on her shoulder. “Right now I want to love you until all you’re saying is my name.”

  Pleasure drew itself into a tight hot knot between her legs. This guy might not say much, but when he did it was golden. “I know you want me all in, but maybe, tonight, you can meet me halfway?”

  He pulled back and faced her. “I’m listening.”

  “You’re a lot of things.”

  “I’m simple. My wants are simple.”

  “All you want is everything.” She gave a rueful giggle and he responded with a soft laugh.

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t make a promise I can’t keep. You say you want honesty, and that’s the truth. I never thought about living in Brightwater until recently. And this thing with you, I hadn’t thought about that in a long time either.”

  “Okay.”

  “Fine.” She let out a sigh and pressed her forehead to his. “That’s a lie. A big fat lie. I thought about you.”

  “I thought about you too.”

  “I—one time—I looked for you on Facebook, when I was going through my divorce,” she whispered, the words ragged in her throat.

  “I don’t do any of that.”

  “I know. I even knew you wouldn’t, but still I looked. I tried to tell myself I was bored, looking to catch up with old friends. But I knew that wasn’t the truth. I missed you and felt lost. I’ve been lost for a long time.”

  He held out a hand. “Jump with me.”

  “Jump?” She glanced to the rocks, bathed in moonlight. “I don’t think—”

  “No thinking.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Let’s do it.”

  Her last functioning brain cell fell like the drop of water from the hair dangling over the edge of his forehead. Longing wrapped around her with frail tendrils. If she squinted maybe she could see herself there on the rocks, a ghost of her teenage self, holding hands with the ghost of young Sawyer, their laughter echoing through the forest.

  He gave her a gentle tug. “The Eastern Sierras are a hard place, surrounded by high desert, higher mountains, cold winters, and far from big cities. It’s not fair to ask you to jump in and make this decision lightly. I can back off a little on that. But not this. We need to jump.”

  “Okay.” The word was out before she could snatch it back. God help her she’d do this crazy stunt. “But we have to go now, before I change my mind and think about submerged logs, or water snakes, or broken
necks or—”

  “Up you get.” He stood, and his abs were interesting, and so was the thick dark line running beneath his navel to all . . . that.

  “You’re thinking again.” He dove, reemerging a moment later, sending a splash in her direction. “Race you.”

  And that was all it took to send her off like a shot. Her arms sliced through the water, her legs kicking hard. How long had it been since she’d swam? She used to be as at home in this place as a river otter.

  “I won,” she crowed, hit the opposite side a stroke before Sawyer.

  “You always did.”

  A thought occurred to her. “Is that because you let me?”

  He chuckled. “I should say yes to sound manly, but facts are facts, and you kicked my ass, same as always.”

  She pumped her fist and whooped. Hauling out, it was easy to scramble up the old route, even in the dark. Her hands and feet remembered the way. She could close her eyes and be perfectly fine. In a few minutes, she was on top. Breathing a little hard, Sawyer came next to her.

  She swallowed, toes flexing on the edge. “Now that I’m here, I think—”

  He took her hand. “One.”

  “Seriously, maybe we need to—”

  “Two.”

  “Oh God. Oh God.” She was laughing. It was that or cry.

  “Three.”

  And they leapt in unison, plunging down through the shadows, until splash! The river engulfed them, but even there, in the murky underworld, Sawyer’s hand never left hers. And when they popped up, she only had time to catch a breath before he kissed the next one away. He tipped onto his back, bracing her hips, keeping her above him as he kicked to the shore.

  “That was fun,” she whispered.

  “It was. And fuck, that was a lot higher than I remembered,” he said.

  She giggled. “I know, right? We were crazy. Correction—we still are crazy.”

  “I’m crazy for you,” he said, stroking her hair. “And crazy proud of you for going along with that idea.”

  A shameless impulse seized her and she slid her hand from his loose grasp, sank it beneath the water and wrapped around his shaft. His teeth locked on his lower lip. “I did it for you. But I did it for me too.”