Nuts (Hudson Valley, #1)(56)

I moved deeper into the water, the coolness slipping up over my shins, my knees, halfway up my thigh—then I stopped and took another look back at Leo. It was like a game of Red Light, Green Light. For every step I took into the water, he stepped further down the rocks. When I stopped, he stopped. When I turned this last time, letting him sneak a peek at what the trees were already familiar with, he stopped so short he had to pinwheel his arms to keep from falling. Jesus, if tits could do this to a grown man, what would happen when I . . .

I took hold of the strings on either hip and tugged.

I’d seen Leo move quickly before, but he was about to break the land and sea record for getting naked and into the water. Jeans and boxers were gone together in a tangle as he hopped on one foot while he toed off his boots simultaneously.

He winced when he hit the water, but didn’t lose momentum. His shirt was still on, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing it. Ripping it off, he threw it behind him, landing on a rock with a wet thwap.

“You shouldn’t tease a guy, Roxie,” he warned, pulling me to him so quickly that the water splashed up between us, wetting his face and eyelashes.

Now pressed together, very wet and very naked, he gave me a very specific once-over. The kind that you give someone you want to devour. I’d volunteer for a devouring. As he smoothed his wet palm over my hair, my eyes closed at the light touch. I leaned into his warmth, unable to stop the smile that took over my face. My eyes flittered open, blinking against the sunlight, and I sighed in contentment.

He was just leaning in to kiss me when something buzzy flew past my ear. My body went stiff. So did his, and not in the good way. Though that particular part was still bobbing against my leg.

“Just ignore it, Rox, it’ll go away,” he coaxed, trying to shoo it away.

“No. Bee. Bad,” I stuttered through clenched teeth, trying to flee but unable to escape his hold, his arm banded across my bottom, his hand over a cheek for good measure. I tried to breathe. “It’s like some kind of call goes out across the forest: ‘Hey, Roxie’s here; she’s naked in the pond and trying to get it on with Almanzo—let’s get her!’?”

“You really have a thing for Almanzo, don’t you?”

“You have no idea. Remember the episode when Nellie Oleson made him cinnamon chicken, his favorite dish? But Nellie didn’t know how to make it so she made Laura do it? Only Laura hated Nellie, so she switched out the cinnamon for cayenne pepper?” I babbled, burying my head in Leo’s chest while trying to get us as low in the water as I could.

“Cinnamon? What?” he asked, confused, almost losing his footing as I scrambled against his stomach, hunching down.

“You said ignore it, I’m trying to ignore it. Is it gone yet?”

I’ll never know what his answer was going to be, because just then I was buzzed in stereo by Bee Number One and his * cousin, Bee Number Two.

“Good-bye!” I chirped, and went under. His hands splashed after me as I wriggled down to the bottom, where not even an * bee could follow. I swam a few feet, surfaced, saw Leo waving his hands over his head trying to shoo the motherf*ckers away, then submerged again, this time with lungs full.

This went on awhile, me popping up in different spots, Leo trying to communicate with me in the 2.2 seconds I was above water before diving deep again, determined to wait it out. He waded this way and that, trying to find me, only to see me shoot up like a dolphin to catch another breath. The poor guy was playing Whac-a-Mole with a lunatic with exceptional breath control, and I caught little snatches of words between inhales.

“Roxie they’re—”

“—gone, you can—”

“For God’s sake Rox, can you—”

“Dammit, Sugar Snap, would you just—”

It was the Sugar Snap that got me. It always would. I swam closer to him, and even underwater I was mesmerized by his person. I couldn’t resist giving it a few strokes. His hands plunged under the water, grasped me by the shoulders, let me get in at least one more good stroke, then brought me back above the water.

“Gone?” I spluttered as he put me on my feet. Then he quickly picked me up under my knees and wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Gone,” he said, and pulled us gently into deeper water.

“What are you doing to me?” he said, holding my face delicately while he was decidedly not so delicate with my lips. It felt fevered, out of control. I answered his question with actions. Totally caught up in each other, our bodies molding to each other, skin heating even surrounded by the cool water. Blissful. Wanton. Unaware.

So much so that we didn’t notice the high schoolers along the rocky bank with their towels . . . and grins.



“You bet, Mrs. Montgomery, two dozen cupcakes for your Fourth of July picnic. You want them all cherries jubilee, or . . . Okay, I can do some with blueberry. Yes, that’s very patriotic of you. Cherries and blueberries, and I’ll pipe some vanilla buttercream on top. All the colors of the flag.” I wrote everything down, calculating how much to charge, and how much time I’d need to get this order in. Mrs. Oleson’s Carrot Cake had been a hit, and I was the talk of the ladies’ luncheon. Everyone wanted a piece of me. Of my cake.

When the bell dinged above the front door, I looked over my shoulder and grinned when I saw Leo.