He knew she was teasing, but hearing Bethany talk about his romantic future made his bones itch. “Still not worried about it,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road like a novice driver.
“Think about it. You’re alienating a whole segment of the eligible female population. Not smart, especially since you’re not getting any younger and your prospects are dwindling.”
A current of electricity roared through him, so much so that if Bethany were a man, Finn would be curbing an urge to punch him. “Would you drop it already?” he said through gritted teeth and too loudly.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Bethany turn to look at him. “Lighten up, Finn. Sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities. Geez.”
He sighed and squeezed the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles whitened. “Sorry.” He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He had to stop letting everything she said get to him like some kind of annoying rash. They drove without speaking. Bethany checked her phone, and Finn wondered if she was only using it as a prop to avoid talking to him. Whatever the case, one thing was being hammered home during this wedding weekend: he wasn’t over his ex-wife.
5
Bethany was eager to start the bike ride purely to escape Finn’s grumpiness. The good mood they’d shared the night before had evaporated like so many champagne bubbles. In some ways she enjoyed poking this particular bear with a stick, but in the grand scheme of things, it probably wasn’t good for her soul. She thought he’d drop her at the bike shop and leave, but for whatever reason, he got out. She politely thanked him for the lift, then got her bike, which took ten minutes. She was the first to get there, so she had to wait for the rest of the crew. She stood beside her mountain bike and studied the trail map without seeing a single trail.
“Did you use sunscreen?”
It was Finn. Of course.
He was next to her and she looked at him. “Yep. All taken care of, Mom.”
His mouth twitched. “Backs of your hands? Remember, you’re not wearing riding gloves.” He squeezed sunscreen from a tube onto his fingertips.
“Yes. Done.” Although she probably hadn’t been exactly thorough, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Her hands would survive, even in the strong mountain sun.
He stood facing her. “Bet you didn’t get your ears. You always forget your ears.”
He was right. And boy, he must really feel bad about snapping at her in the car—it was the only logical reason he was being so solicitous. “They’ll be fine.” She started reaching for the sunscreen in her backpack on the ground next to her.
“Why take a chance?” He caught her chin with his right hand, while applying sunscreen to the rim of her right ear with his left hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. It was such a simple, intimate gesture, it caught Beth completely off guard. She looked up and over his perfectly rumpled, bronzy-brown hair so that she wouldn’t look at his eyes. He turned her face a few inches the other way to coat the other ear. She looked at the handlebars of her bike and could see a distorted version of Finn in the silver tubes. He looked good even warped. And up close like this, he smelled handsome. She made herself stare at the bike and think about where it might’ve been made, because his warm fingers tugging and massaging her ears were unexpectedly sensual. She tried to imagine how the handlebar had been heated and bent into shape in some bicycle factory somewhere, but the sensation on her ear merrily trounced any attempts to shove it aside. She was all about those ears and Finn’s fingers. Darts of pleasure, like lively ponies in a field, made her neck and arms tingle. Goose bumps blossomed on her arms. Goose bumps! Her mind dredged up memories of Finn making love to her amid gloriously rumpled sheets early one rainy morning—God, but he had been otherworldly in bed—and she wanted to grab his head and kiss him. Right there, in front of everyone. But instead she fastened her gaze on sunlight sparkling on the tiny bell on her bike.
“There,” Finn said softly, and tugged her earlobe. Her eyes refused to do the sensible thing and keep staring at the bell. Instead, the traitors took the dangerous path up to his eyes. She held her breath and dived into those cerulean depths, her mind cleared of everything except . . . Finn.
He grazed her cheek with his thumb while his fingertips trailed along her jawline to the tip of her chin. He gently pinched her there and flashed an uncertain smile that said he had gotten as lost as she had.
It would be so easy to kiss him. It would be a cinch. All she had to do was lean forward, and she was pretty sure he would take care of the rest. What would one lousy kiss hurt?
“Finn, you change your mind?” Melissa wheeled her bike next to Beth.
Finn looked at the new bride. “Nah. Just making sure Bethany here knows how to use the bell to scare away bears.”
The spell was broken. They were exes once more. Which was as it should be.
Armed with a list of addresses and his car’s GPS, Finn set out to find the more stupendous homes in Aspen and its environs. He had researched the more innovative Aspen architecture firms before moving. Eventually he’d tour Beaver Creek and Vail as well. Driving the steep, twisty mountain roads, he saw five of the homes on his list. They were all sprawling, constructed mostly of wood and stone, and had plenty of windows that offered eye-popping views of the mountains, ski runs, or Roaring Fork Valley. It was architect porn.
Finn was especially interested in seeing how the structures fit into the environment. Being on site also gave him a feel for the building. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d always equated it with Bethany talking about “feel” when riding, the ability to know what the horse was going to do before it happened. It was architect’s intuition, and it was critical when you were going to build someone’s home.
At the last house, which was the most grand, he saw flaws and knew he would have done it better. If he could make his own luck here, he’d soon be one of the Rocky Mountain region’s premier architects. And he had a particular project in mind—a request for bids had come to his attention from Mitchell Frederick. “Uncle Mitch” was an old friend of Bethany’s family. If he could land this job, he’d be set.
As his eyes roamed over the soaring structure with its large windows and expanses of stone, he thought, I can build a better house. I can make it greener and more beautiful. I can do this. I can design a dream of a house for good ol’ Uncle Mitch.
Driving to the kayaking school, Finn had begun designing the Frederick house in his head. The rest of the wedding group—eight of them—was already there. Finn spotted Bethany immediately. He had regained the radar he used to have for her when she was his wife. When he saw her, a shaft of sunlight slid over his heart. Better to feel this than all that anger, pal. At least you’re on speaking terms now.
He said hello to everyone and sat with Nick on the bus that would ferry them and their watercraft to the reservoir.
Once they got to the water, Kristen was right there, smiling and wordlessly demanding his attention. Here we go. She wore the hell out of a stretchy little tank top and shorts that showed off her long, tan legs. The other men noticed, giving Finn hope that in this target-rich environment she’d choose another victim. However, she hovered near him and dropped her keys. And picked them up. Right in front of him. Twice. Subtle as a sledgehammer. And he had experience with sledgehammers.
When it came time to get in the water, Finn caved to his urge to stick near Bethany. This was the last day of wedding activities. There was a dinner tonight, and then everyone would leave tomorrow and he’d return to his rental. He was an accomplished kayaker, and although he was tempted to take on the Roaring Fork River’s class four Slaughterhouse runs, he opted for the beginner excursion instead. Bethany was game to ride the rapids, but today’s group divided into expert and beginner, and she had only kayaked once before, in the Everglades. As stubborn as she could be—and he knew firsthand all about that—she didn’t complain or challenge t
he guide.
On the Ruedi Reservoir, the kayak armada glided through the water like a family of ducklings, often ending up in a line. Finn was polite to Kristen, but he wished she wouldn’t paddle so close that she sometimes bumped his kayak. At least she couldn’t drop her keys anymore, but he noticed she had taken her black hair out of its ponytail and was whipping it around and kept running her hand through it. In addition, before they’d gotten into the boats, she’d removed her tank to reveal a bikini top and was about to ask Finn to apply sunscreen to her back, but Melissa had asked for his help with her life vest. Mike had happily assisted Kristen. While kayaking, she also enjoyed arching her back and stretching her arms, claiming they were stiff. He chuckled—while her ultimate goal had everything to do with “stiff,” it had nothing to do with her arms.
The reservoir was the result of damming the Fryingpan River, and the scenery was spectacular. Pine forests sloped up and away from the water, which was the bottomless blue of the clear sky. It really was Bayer blue. The kayakers had lucked out with weather, since on summer afternoons in the Colorado Rockies thunderstorms were the norm, and they could be sudden and severe, with plenty of lightning. But as stunning as the natural beauty was—and the reservoir was one of the most breathtaking spots Finn had ever visited—he preferred to look at Bethany. Pretty Bethany with toned arms. As long as he wasn’t obvious about it, he decided it was okay to indulge, since he’d never see her again. They didn’t run in the same circles. This is how he’d remember her now that the hurt between them had faded and they had moved on. Even if he wasn’t over her, he didn’t have a choice.
Nostalgia had a stranglehold on Beth’s heart. The bike ride was supposed to have been a pleasant diversion from Finn and his sunscreen. But it merely gave her time to think about him and those ridiculous goose bumps. Yes, she was surrounded by some of the best—and most expensive—outdoors America had to offer, not to mention the tangy scent of pine as the trail plunged into the alpine forests, but she couldn’t shake her ex-husband. He clung to her mind like a persistent mist.
Now, on the reservoir, as she enjoyed the feel of the water pulling at her muscles and propelling her kayak through the still blue, she wanted Finn to talk to her. But he didn’t. He stayed near that Kristen. And that was fine. Beth was above chasing him in a kayak. If he didn’t want to talk to her, that was his problem. Anyway, after tonight’s dinner, he’d be out of her life forever, and as much as she’d enjoyed his sunscreen application before the bike ride, he was her past, not her future. She had to remember that. And move on.
After two hours of floating, even in the middle of the magnificent White River National Forest, Beth was ready to turn in her paddles. She’d had her fill of mountain scenery, even though being on the water reminded her of summers in the Rockies. She remembered floating on a raft for hours on the lake at Ptarmigan, site of her family’s summerhouse. Despite growing up in Ohio, she’d always felt more at home in the mountains, and the summers held her favorite memories.
Regrettably, this reverie made her think of Finn again, because that’s where they’d met. Young, cocky, sexy Finn. She looked around for him now. Casually. Not that he’d notice.
There he was, smack-dab next to Kristen. The bathing beauty had gotten on her nerves, so much so that she really was getting a headache. And what about Finn? Had he paddled away from Cleavage Girl? Nope. He had chatted. Beth had been a regular aquatic hostess with the mostest, talking with everyone except Finn and Kristen. He probably didn’t care, not with all that boobage on display. She told herself she wasn’t doing it to punish him as much as to keep herself from ramming the geologist, à la Ben Hur. It was a boating safety thing. The park rangers should give her a medal.
The boat ramp was busy, so the wedding kayakers had to hang out in the deeper water off shore to wait their turn. Beth was fiddling with her sandal—the strap had something stabby in it—when someone bumped her kayak. She looked up to see Finn grinning at her.
“Yes?” she said. He looked awfully good in his aviator sunglasses, stubble framing his lips and the stupid sun turning his tousled hair all golden-y in spots.
“Did you reapply?”
“That’s between me and my dermatologist.”
He tsked. “There’s no such thing as a healthy tan, Bethany.”
“Says the man with a tan.” You putting sunscreen on me was more dangerous than any tan. “I’m fine,” she said, then delivered a retaliatory bump.
He grinned again, and dug his paddle into the water so that the bow of his kayak hit her broadside.
“Hey!” she said, because her little boat rocked considerably. She splashed him with her paddle, which was more satisfying than she could have imagined.
“That was dirty,” he said, his straight, strong teeth showing in a slight smile. Water droplets sparkled in his hair.
“You tried to capsize me.”
“It was a tap!”
She lowered her voice so that only he could hear. “Isn’t there someone else you’d like to tap?” She glanced at Kristen, who was having an animated conversation with Mike about twenty yards away.
“Mike? He’s a great guy, but not my type. Too much hair on his face.”
“You know who I mean. Did you even notice she has a face?”
“We had a nice chat. I made and maintained eye contact. And, hey, it’s not my fault she’s wearing what she’s wearing.”
“Or not wearing.”
“It’s not ski season. What’s she supposed to have on, a parka?” He tapped the back of her kayak.
“Stop running into me.”
He said, in a low tone meant solely for her, “If memory serves, you like it from behind.”
She should have expected the conversation to turn salty. “Finn!” She maneuvered her kayak to face him and whispered, “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are children on this lake.” Her next words escaped from her mouth like unsupervised toddlers. “But I bet you’re dying to find out if she’d like it.”
Finn was staring at her, then snorted. “I can’t believe it. You’re jealous.” He grinned hard.
Blerg! She was transparent. It bugged her to no end that she lacked the Hide Your Feelings gene. She had to attempt a defense. “Not in the least. Disappointed in you, maybe. But that’s all.”
“No, you’re jealous,” he said in an annoying singsong voice. He was taunting her. “You’re still sweet on me.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“Like that lady at our table said—the one who would’ve cut Grady’s meat for him? Love is in the air this weekend, and you are a victim.”
“I am not a victim.”
“Come on, Bethany,” he said, as though she were a scared rabbit he was coaxing into a snare. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Finn. Shut up, or I’ll tip you.”
“Four little words. ‘I still love you.’ You can do it.”
“Here are four words: You are incredibly annoying.”
“And you’re very cute when you’re in denial.”
“I mean it. I’ll tip you.” She put an extra dose of menace in her voice.
“You are all talk.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You and what armada?”
Beth saw her escape from admitting jealousy. Escalation. She stared him down. “I dare you.”
“Bethany.”
“I dare you.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I dare you to tip me. Come on.” She clucked like a chicken.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, but didn’t move.
She slammed her paddle into the water, drenching him.
“That’s it!” He rammed her kayak broadside, but not hard enough to capsize her. Nothing would have happened if it weren’t for an ill-timed passing motorboat. The wake and Finn combi
ned to flip her kayak and toss her into the water.
“Crap on a cracker!” she sputtered, both from water in her mouth and the plunge into the cold. She pushed her sodden hair out of her face and coughed several times. She stroked over to her kayak, grabbed on, and started kicking toward the bank.
“You brought this on yourself and you know it.” Finn piloted his kayak close to her. “Grab on.”
“Go to hell.”
“You begged me to dump you!”
His last two words hovered over the surface of the water like ironic, sad dragonflies. Beth stilled and stared at him.
“Sorry,” he said and sounded sincere. “Bad word choice. Here.” He slid into the water. “Now we’re even.”
“Hardly.” She resumed her slow journey away from him, but he easily caught up.
“Damn but this water’s cold,” he said. “You should’ve thought of that before you provoked me.”
“I should’ve thought of your complete lack of chivalry.”
“I did exactly what you asked! How is that unchivalrous?”
“You should’ve known I was kidding.”
“You asked ten times!”
“You shouldn’t have taken me seriously.”
“Hold on.” They were about twenty feet from the boat ramp. He reached out and grabbed her arm. Neither of them moved, they were just facing each other, each with one arm draped over a kayak.
“What?” she asked.
My, but he looked good wet. Unfortunately. He didn’t have his sunglasses on anymore. He was staring at her. He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall.
“What?” she repeated.
He leaned in and spoke quietly, obviously aware of how sound traveled across water. “I didn’t mean to tip you. I didn’t hit you hard enough, but combined with the wake from that boat . . . So I’m sorry. And I take you seriously. And what happened with us—I was always sweet on you.” He squeezed her arm with his warm hand. “What I mean is, I . . . I always loved you.” He let go of her arm and shoved his hair off his forehead. He studied the shore for a moment before turning back to her. “Hell. I still do. I . . . Christ, I don’t know what possessed me to tell you this, but this is probably the last time we’ll ever see each other, and I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
Jumped Page 7
