I shook my head, my mouth suddenly going dry. "No, no. Really, that's not—" He pulled the wet piece of material over his head and my eyes slid down his bare chest to his ridged stomach and then back up as his shirt came off completely. He was too skinny, but his muscles were defined and his shape very masculine. Broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist and his jeans looked as if they were barely holding on to his slim hips.
Feeling off balance in a way I wasn't used to at all—and not knowing how to act next to a beautifully half-naked man—I turned and walked on unsure legs to a fallen tree trunk on the bank of the stream where I usually sat when I fished. It was in a bright patch of sunlight and at the perfect spot right in front of a fishing hole. I bent forward and dug in the soft mud at the edge of the stream for a worm, spearing it quickly on the hook once I found one. I cast my line into the water just as Holden sat down next to me.
I kept my eyes focused on the water for a few minutes, finally braving a glance at him. He had his face tilted up to the sun and his eyes were closed. I allowed myself a moment to admire him, the light bringing out the gold in his hair and in the very slight scruff on his face. He must not have shaved today. I let my eyes drink in the strong, masculine lines of his jaw and cheekbone, my gaze resting on his well-shaped lips, slightly parted, his expression one of peaceful contentment. My eyes wandered down to his naked torso and I stared at his smooth, tanned chest, resisting the instinct that urged me to reach out and run my hand down his stomach and back up to the male contours of his shoulders and arms.
A slight breeze rustled the trees and the rushing sound of the stream lent a soothing background song, as a whippoorwill called to his mate incessantly in a nearby tree. When Holden's eyes suddenly opened, I startled slightly and looked back to the water. "Repetitive sucker, isn't he?" Holden asked, nodding to the bird sound coming from right behind us.
I smiled. "They go on for hours sometimes. The males are very persistent when they want a female."
"Is that what that is? His mating call?"
I nodded, setting the fishing pole in a small hole in the trunk we were sitting on, propping it up.
"Want me to hold that?" Holden asked.
I shook my head. "There's no need to hold it. I usually just put it here next to me. I'll grab it if there's a tug." I glanced at him, and he was looking at me with a small smile on his lips.
"As for the whippoorwill, yes, that's his mating call."
"Will she answer him?"
"Eventually, I suppose. Or maybe she's not interested in that particular whippoorwill. Perhaps she doesn't want to be part of his horde. All three that is."
The corner of Holden's lip quirked up and there was a twinkle in his eye as he tilted his head and said, "A persistent fellow like him? Nah, I thought all women liked persistent."
I made a small snorting sound. "Perhaps you don't know as much about women as you believe." I gave him a teasing look. Or maybe you know way too much.
Holden laughed. "I'm beginning to think you might be right." He tilted his head back up to the sun. "This is nice, peaceful."
Yes it was. Even sitting here with him for the first time felt very right, natural. "I know. I come here as often as possible in the summer."
"Alone?"
"Yes, yes, alone."
"Doesn't your mother ever come with you?"
I looked at him sharply, but when he didn't withdraw his question, I sighed, already weary of the tit for tat. It was too much work. "No, my mother doesn't come outside very often. She . . . well, she was injured years ago, and she stays in."
"Injured—"
"What about you? Do your parents live in San Francisco, too?"
Holden paused, his blue eyes lingering on my face for a few moments before he looked out to the water. "No, I'm originally from Ohio, but both my parents have passed."
I watched his profile again as he stared forward, that sad look of loss on his face that he'd had when he told me about his friend, Ryan.
I reached out and put my hand on his thigh, and his gaze jerked down to where my hand touched him. "I'm sorry, Holden. I know what it's like to feel lonely." I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I shouldn't have said that.
His eyes met mine and though there were questions in his, he simply grasped my hand. "Thank you."
Something electric filled the air, sizzling through the ozone the way lightning does right before it flashes across the sky in a sudden, thrilling arc of intense light. I pulled my hand away and stood up quickly. "Want to see a quicker way of fishing than waiting for a fish to bite the worm?"
Holden laughed. "Yes. Show me."
I removed my boots and my socks and hiked my dress up, tying it in a knot at the side of my thighs. I began wading into the shallow water and when I looked laughingly back at Holden, his gaze on me was intent and filled with something I couldn't define. Something that looked hungry. He looked down to my bare legs and back to my eyes. I swallowed, but brought my finger up to my lips, instructing him to stay very quiet. Then I stood very still in the water, which was just brushing the bottom of my tied-up dress. I didn't move a muscle as I tracked the movement of the fish that swam by my legs, two large trout. In a lightning-swift move, I plunged both hands in the water and made a sound of dismay as I came up empty-handed. Focusing again, I stood still for a long, quiet minute, my eyes again tracking the slippery, silvery bodies of the fish moving past me. Again, I plunged my hands into the water, reaching just slightly in front of where the fish I was tracking swam, laughing out loud when the fish slipped right past my grasp. I jumped to the side as another one swam next to me, again coming up empty-handed. Holden was laughing on the shore. "Have you ever actually caught one like that?" he called.
"Not yet, but I will before this summer is over," I said, laughing back. He grinned at me, and my heart skipped at least three beats in a row. This was the first time I'd seen him looking genuinely carefree and happy, the small lines between his eyes completely smoothed out. When I realized I was simply standing there staring at him, I turned back, looking down to the water again. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Holden walk to the edge of the water. I looked over to see him rolling up his still-wet jeans. He waded in next to me.
For the next fifteen minutes, we tried in vain to grab a trout, both doing ridiculous-looking little hops as fish darted by. Once I almost face-planted in the water, and Holden grabbed me as we both laughed, his arms staying around me for a beat too long as my breath caught and our eyes met.
"Last try," he said. I nodded. We stood still and silent. Suddenly Holden's hands plunged into the water and when he brought them out, a fat trout was wiggling in his hands. I gasped, my mouth falling open. Holden rose slowly to his full height, letting out a small shout.
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, grinning wildly at Holden, the flailing fish finally stilling in his hands. "I can't believe you just did that."
"I can honestly say I can't either," he said, shaking his head, a look of awed disbelief on his face.
"Beginner's luck," I mumbled, trying to sound displeased. But it came out breathy and impressed. I was impressed. "Or maybe you have experience and didn't tell me."
He laughed. "How long did you say you'd been doing this?" There was boasting amusement in his tone and I rolled my eyes.
Placing the fish in the plastic bag I'd laid down next to my fishing pole earlier, he chuckled and then returned to the stream to rinse his hands. I bent down next to him and washed my own, a wave of insecurity suddenly coming over me. We had just gone fishing with our bare hands on what was a sort of date. He'd participated, but he must have thought I was some sort of heathen or cave girl—or foolish little kid. That's it, this was him re-living his childhood with me. Ugh. I was sure those girls I'd seen dancing on the deck would never do something like this. They'd probably think it was gross. When I came back to the log he had already returned to, I shrugged self-consciously. "Too long. Obviously I have far too much time on my hands." I attempted a self-depre
cating laugh, but it sounded sort of strange and choked.
"Hey, don't be mad because I'm naturally better at it than you."
I whipped my head toward him and saw that he was teasing me. He winked, looking so happy that I couldn't help but to laugh again, the self-consciousness that had come over me, melting away. I shook my head. Holden leaned forward and scratched his ankle and I noticed his back. I bent forward and touched his skin gingerly and he sat up quickly, his eyes meeting mine.
"You have so many scars," I said.
He smiled a tight smile. "My job isn't easy on my body. I've been injured more times than I can count."
"Your job . . . " I sat back down next to him, frowning slightly, wondering what in the world that could be. He nodded his head to the ground at my feet.
"What are you reading?" he asked, obviously changing the subject.
Glancing in the direction he was looking, I saw the edge of the book of poems peeking out of my backpack. I shrugged. "Oh, nothing," I said, using my foot to push my bag closed.
"Nothing? That looked like a book to me. What? Is it a tawdry romance novel or something?"
I laughed. "No. Just . . . a book of poems."
"You like poetry?"
I could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of my face and felt the color moving up my neck to my cheeks. Something about him knowing about my love of poetry felt very personal. "Yes," I said softly. "I do."
"Can I see?"
I hesitated briefly, but couldn't think of a good reason to tell him no. Plucking the book from my backpack, I held it in his direction without looking at him. He took it from my hand and was silent for a moment. "Romantic poetry." I heard him flip through it and then stop as he read to himself. My curiosity too great, I couldn't help but look over and see which poem he'd stopped on.
"She walks in beauty, like the night," he read, "of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright." He looked up and caught my eye. "Lord Byron." He paused. "I never knew that this one's about you," he said softly. I felt my blush deepen and looked down at my own hands.
"It's written about Mrs. John Wilmot, Byron's cousin by marriage. She was in mourning when he met her."
He hummed. "Maybe for Byron it was about her, but for me, it's about you." I brought my gaze to his and for some reason I wanted to weep. How often had I sat alone reading that poem and dreaming of someday being admired that way? "Lily of the Night," he said gently. "I knew it was the perfect way to describe you." My heart bursting with joy, I could only smile. He handed the book back, and I replaced it in my backpack.
"You knew it was Byron," I said. "Do you like poetry, too?
"I like literature," he said, a confused look crossing his face, his brow furrowing. He brought his hand up to his head and massaged his temples as if he was grasping on to a memory and it hurt. "Yes . . ." he said, bringing his hand down and smiling at me. "I haven't talked to anyone about that in a long time."
I nodded, feeling pleased that he'd shared something personal with me.
We spent the next hour or so talking about the things around us, the birds in the trees, the types of plants that grew next to the water. I knew the names for some of them, but not all. I'd received a book on Colorado flora and fauna years back and had attempted to learn as much as I could, but as I soon learned, it'd take a lifetime to know it all. And who knew—maybe that's what I had. I'd frowned with the thought, something desperate and yearning that I didn't know how to define filling my chest and making my heart squeeze. I wanted more than what my life was now. More than the small, dark, lonely world I lived in.
I wanted someone to save me. But I didn't know what to do about that.
As the hour wore on, I noticed Holden's hands begin to shake, and although the sun was shining on us, he began to perspire in a way I thought was excessive for the weather. I'd seen signs before that he was sick, but I didn't know how—or if that was part of what he was going to address in some manner while he stayed away.
"You should get back," I finally said, my eyes landing on his trembling fingers. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, looking nervous and sad.
"Yes, I should. This has been one of the best days I've spent in years. Thank you for giving this to me. Thank you for spending your time with me."
I shook my head. "It was really . . . I enjoyed it, too." That felt like such an understatement, but I didn't know how else to express to him how much I'd enjoyed our time together, how he'd made me forget that I was so lonely, how I never wanted this day to end.
I collected my things, rolling the fish up in plastic—the one Holden had caught with his hands and two others I'd caught with the pole—and placed them in my backpack. I left my fishing pole behind as I usually did.
We walked in silence most of the way back, Holden looking increasingly nervous. My heart was pounding, too. I didn't know when I'd see him next, and I already missed him. And that terrified me. I wanted more time. Don't go, I wanted to say. Please don't go. Not yet. But I couldn't, and I wouldn't, and he'd asked me to give him time. Lost in my own thoughts, I hardly noticed when we arrived at the edge of the woods where he would leave me for his lodge. Holden leaned back against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd put his T-shirt back on, and it was mostly dry, but his jeans were still damp. He closed his eyes, his expression pained.
Forcing a smile and suddenly feeling very awkward and shy, I took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. "The look on your face . . . you look as if you're going off to war," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Holden released a gush of air. "Not exactly . . . but it kind of feels like it. Will you be waiting for me, Lily?"
I wasn't even sure exactly what I was waiting for. Holden Scott confused me, and I felt completely out of my depth. But, for me, there was only one answer. I smiled. "Yes." His eyes roamed over my face.
"Why do you look at me that way?" I asked softly.
"What way?"
"Like you're trying to memorize me. Like you think I might disappear."
"I didn't realize I was," he said, moving a piece of hair away from my face. "Please don't disappear."
I shook my head. "I won't." I stepped even closer, and he suddenly seemed to become very aware of me, standing taller, his eyes intently focused. I took one final step into his space and went up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to the side of his mouth, just intending to give him one simple kiss.
For a second he seemed frozen, and then a strange guttural sound came from his throat and he turned his head so that my lips slid on top of his and our mouths were pressed together. I jolted slightly and his arms were suddenly around me, making it impossible to move away as I'd almost done. I opened my eyes and saw his were closed and there were lines creased between his brows as if he were in pain. I wasn't sure what that meant, so I let my lashes flutter closed again and waited to see what he would do next. I startled when I felt the tip of his tongue come out and run along the opening of my lips. Instinctively, my own tongue came out to lick my lips where he had so that I could taste him on my mouth. He made another one of those growling sounds I thought meant he liked what was happening and used his tongue to open my mouth wider so he could slip inside. I let out a quick panting breath and opened for him as intense pleasure shivered through me. Holden's hand came to the back of my head and he tilted it, which brought his tongue deeper into my mouth. His kiss sent sensation from the tip of my tongue all the way to my knees, and I let my weight fall against him as I met his probing tongue with my own. I wanted to be closer, to absorb all of him, to experience the shimmery feeling flowing through my veins for as long as possible.
I ran my hands up his back. The feel of his shifting muscles under my hands enhanced the pleasure of the kiss, and I couldn't help moaning into his mouth. He pulled me closer, answering my moan with one of his own.
Our kiss deepened as I followed his lead, letting my tongue dance with his, tasting his masculine essence. He tasted salty and swee
t and more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.
I didn't know how long we kissed, but after a little while he pulled back, sprinkling smaller kisses all around my mouth and down my jaw. I gave another little shiver when his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. "Lily," Holden said and his voice sounded breathless and hoarse, "the things you're doing to me right now. I'm trying to control myself, but—"
"Don't control yourself. Please just kiss me one more time," I whispered against his mouth. "I want to taste your tongue again."
Holden groaned and put his hands on the sides of my face and kissed me again, our tongues stroking and tangling for long delicious minutes. When he finally ended the kiss, he was panting again and I could feel the slight shivering of his body, as if he was barely controlling something.
"I have to stop, Lily. I don't want to, but I have to. I'm going to catch on fire if I don't." I nodded. He sounded so desperate as if he was in some sort of agony. I had a vague idea of what he was feeling. My body felt hot and achy and unfulfilled despite having just experienced something so incredible. If more kissing led to more hot achiness, I might catch fire, too. I raised my eyes to his and he looked at me tenderly, using his knuckles to run along my cheek. I leaned in to his touch and smiled. I felt dreamy and giddy and so very, very happy. He leaned forward and kissed my eyelids, and I laughed softly at the ticklish feel of his lips. He rubbed his rough jaw against my cheek and I giggled again, feeling the smile on his lips. "Lily," he whispered. "Lily of the Night. How do I say goodbye to you now?"
"With happiness," I whispered, "because we'll see each other soon. And when we do, you'll kiss me again."
"Yes," he choked out, "yes, I will." I kissed him one final time, softly and sweetly on the corner of his lips, the way I'd first intended. And then I backed away from him, our arms extended, our fingers joined, until they slipped apart. And then I turned and walked away, looking back only once to find Holden still leaning against the tree at the edge of the forest, watching me as I left him where he was.