Midnight Lily(20)

Holden took a deep breath and then stepped tentatively on the first rock, balancing both feet there as he judged the distance to the next one. "You have to do it quickly," I said. "If you don't you'll—"

I sucked in a breath and brought my empty hand up to my mouth, trying not to howl with laughter as Holden fell face first into the water. He came up sputtering and flapping his arms and I couldn't help it. I doubled over, holding my stomach. "Okay, so you're no athlete," I said through my laughter. Holden pulled himself up slowly, coming to his full height, his shirt and jeans molded to his body in a way that made the hilarity die in my throat. I swallowed, letting out a few last coughs of laughter.

"You set me up." He narrowed his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression. He wasn't really mad.

I shook my head. "No, I swear, I didn't. I thought you would make it. I'll just grab . . . this," I said, picking up my fishing pole, "and come to your side." Holden took the few steps in the thigh-high water and pulled himself onto the bank. He shook his head like a dog and then looked up at me and grinned.

"Get over here," he called. I hopped easily from rock to rock and landed on the shore next to him. "Show off," he muttered. "You know usually I'm the one who excels at everything. Being with you has been a very humbling experience, let me tell you."

"Maybe you needed one, Holden Scott, God Among Men," I said, laughing a bit more.

He chuckled. "You're probably right." He started slowly peeling his shirt off and I stepped back. "This was your master plan, wasn't it? To set me up to fall in the stream so I'd have to strip off my wet clothes?"

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."