The Sometimes Sisters(51)

Her feet hurt and both her body and soul were worn out from the emotional upheaval of the previous two days. The first sip of whiskey slid down her throat, warming everything it touched all the way to her stomach. The second tingled but wasn’t nearly as hot.

She’d finished the last sip when Wyatt drove up in front of her cabin with the boat behind his truck. In a few seconds, he was sitting on the porch, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He nodded toward her, and she did the same. It wasn’t awkward or even uncomfortable, but rather peaceful having him there and knowing that she wasn’t carrying the burden alone anymore.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.

“Got things done and thought I’d stop by,” he answered. “So how was your day?”

“Busy,” she said. “But I like busy days. It helps it go by faster.”

“Want to go out on the boat for a little while to relax?”

She’d love to, but should she? Would it be opening up something like Pandora’s box? She weighed the pros and cons. It didn’t have to be anything serious like a date, and she would love to feel the night breeze off the lake.

She pushed up out of the chair. “Do I need shoes?”

“Not if I do this.” He got to his feet, crossed the porch in two steps, and picked her up like a bride.

Her arms looped around his neck, and she laid her head on his chest. His heart thumped almost as fast as hers. There was so much heat surrounding them that she scarcely even felt the chilly gravel on her feet when he set her on the ground long enough to open the truck door. When she was settled and the seat belt was fastened, he quickly made his way to slide in behind the steering wheel.

He grinned. “This will be kind of like when we ‘borrowed’”—he made air quotes around the last word—“that old boat and rowed to that secluded place.”

The twinkle in his eyes and his dimples when he smiled had not dimmed in the past ten years. “That was the last time I saw you. After you left and I tried to call, all I got was a message that the number was no longer in service. So I wrote a dozen letters to the address you gave me,” he said.

“My mother shut down my cell phone, and the unwed mothers’ home where they sent me was unlisted. They didn’t let us call out otherwise. If I could’ve, I don’t know what I might have said. Lord, Wyatt, we were barely old enough to make a baby. And I never got a single letter. My mother probably shredded them. But I’m glad to know that you tried to get in touch,” she said.

He expertly backed the boat down off the ramp, got it into the water, and then carried her off the end of the dock into knee-deep water. When he lifted her over the side and set her down, she noticed a cooler but no fishing equipment. In only a few minutes, he’d tied the boat firmly to a post, unhitched it, and driven his truck up to the parking area.

“You sure know your business around a ramp better than you did back then,” she said when he was sitting beside her.

He fired up a trolling engine and guided them around the shoreline until they came to the same wooded area where they’d spent their last night together. The boat had rocked so hard that night as they made love that she just knew it would capsize and all her clothing would float away.

Made love, she thought. Was that what we were doing? Maybe it was just satisfying raging hormones.

“I hope so, since I make a living at fishin’ these days. But I got to admit, every time I bring a bunch of guys to this spot, I always remember that last night we were together,” he said.

“I haven’t been to this spot since then,” she said. “It’s a wonder we didn’t drown that night.”

A couple of blankets and two pillows came out of nowhere. He spread out one on the floor of the boat and tossed the pillows toward one end. “Let’s just lie here for a while. Imagine that you are givin’ me my share of that load on your shoulders.”

She stretched out on one side of the blanket. With a foot of space between them, he laced his fingers with hers.

“Look at that moon and all those stars. Makes me feel like my problems are small when I look at them,” she whispered.

“It looks like the Hope Diamond lyin’ on a bed of black velvet. And all the stars are small diamonds scattered around it,” Wyatt said. “My fishermen would throw me in the lake if they heard me sayin’ sissy stuff like that. You are the only woman I’ve ever felt like I could be myself with.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

“Okay, then, let’s celebrate.” He opened the cooler and brought out a bottle of Jack. “A shot to loosen us up. I want you to tell me your funniest bartending story.”

“Only if you’ll tell me your favorite fishin’ story.” She sat up, took the bottle from him, uncapped it, took a swig, and handed it back. “And you go first.”

He tipped up the bottle and took two gulps, then put the cap back on before he scooted over to prop his back against the side of the cabin cruiser. “This happened just a few months ago. Your grandmother and Zed were in a really big argument. I got here on Friday night, and there was so much ice between them that not even hell’s fire could melt it.”

She sat up and propped her back against the cooler. “You are kiddin’ me. I never saw them even have a cross word.”