Summer Kisses (117 page)

He cupped her with a knowing hand, stroking until she quivered with longing. “Open up, sweetheart,” he whispered, kneeing her thighs further apart. And then he pushed and the intrusion was so sudden, so sharp, she gasped and pressed her hands against his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, his expression one of intense bliss. She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to make a sound, but he jerked his head down, absorbing her stillness, the way her hands pressed against his chest.

“Julie?”

“Just finish up,” she said.

But he stared at her, the cords of his neck rigid. Sweat gleamed on his forehead. “Shit,” he said and rolled off.

He lay on his back, his forearm over his face, as though shielding his eyes from the sun. She tugged the blanket around her and shot a quick look at his massive erection. “You could have finished,” she muttered.

“Finished?” His tanned throat rippled as he took a hard gulp. He sat up but didn’t look at her, just reached out and tugged her to his side, carefully tucking the blanket around her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have moved slower. I uh…had the wrong impression.”

He sounded so odd, she reached up and patted his arm. “It’s okay. It’s been a while,” she said, “and I never liked it much anyway.”

She thought he flinched and glanced up, but he was staring straight ahead, his expression inscrutable. He had his arm around her, but his touch was different now, polite and reserved, and his utter silence made her eyes itch.

And then he plucked a blue wildflower from the grass. Stuck it gently behind her ear, and the gesture made her heart kick.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked.

“High school.” She looked down, tightening her nervous fingers on the blanket, and the flower dropped from her hair.

He nodded as though he understood, but of course he didn’t. “I shouldn’t have rushed you like that,” he said. “I should have gone slower. Could have made it better.”

She gave a dismissive shrug. “It happened so fast. It’s not like it was planned.”

He coughed and was silent for a minute. “Your last boyfriend was in high school?” he finally asked. “No one since?”

She averted her head at the incredulity in his voice and picked up the little flower, unable to keep her hands still. “My mother was killed in a car accident,” she said, plucking out a small blue petal. “I was supposed to drive her home but wanted to stay with my boyfriend. I never felt much like sex after that.”

“Ah, sweetheart.” He blew out a regretful sigh. “That was a head-on collision. The other car crossed the line. You couldn’t have changed anything.”

She glanced sideways, surprised he knew about the accident. Sandra must have told him. However, even Sandra didn’t understand the extent of her guilt. Nobody knew how the phone had rung and rung, and how she and Joey had laughed and continued pulling off their clothes. How they’d turned off the insistent phone.

Her mother had clung to life for five agonizing hours but had died before Julie made it to the hospital.

She swallowed then held Kurt’s gaze. “Dad called me,” she said, her voice scratchy. “I was in bed the whole time. The phone was two feet away. Was enjoying myself too much to answer.”

His arm tightened and he reached up, pressed his gentle finger to the sides of her eyes, wiped away her tears. She hadn’t even realized her eyes were wet.

“Guilt doesn’t help,” he said. “You can’t beat yourself up about it. Easier said than done…I know,” he added, and his voice was so understanding she kept talking.

“If I had been driving, the accident might not have happened. Maybe I would have reacted more quickly. She rode nine races and was exhausted. She wanted a drive home. I was too selfish.”

“Or you might have been dead too,” he said quietly. “That’s why you don’t date?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s the riding too, I guess.” She blew out a breath. “I hope you don’t feel used. This was meant to be a sightseeing tour not a sexual experiment.” She gave him a teasing poke, determined to move on. “Although you sure brought a lot of condoms.”

“I did,” he said, but his voice sounded so odd, she straightened. “I always carry them,” he added, but he wouldn’t look at her, and an alarm niggled in her head.

She automatically tightened the blanket around her shoulders. Her throat had constricted, and she didn’t know why. “You said you had the wrong impression. What did you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember the context.”

He sounded too much like a lawyer, and she reached for his hand, needing some reassurance. “If I ask you a question—one question—do you promise to tell the truth?” she asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut as though she were asking an impossible thing, and his fingers tightened around her hand.

“P-please, Kurt. It’s important to me.” Her voice caught but it was his expression that scared her the most; his face was twisted almost in agony. And then it abruptly straightened to that god-awful mask she hated.

“I promise,” he said, his voice bleak.

She swallowed. “Did you really want to look at land today? Because you never asked about prices and that last acreage was so beautiful.”

He made an indeterminate gesture with his head.

“You didn’t think it was beautiful?” she asked hopefully, her words coming in a rush, because if he was shaking his head to the first question, there was only one other reason why he’d ride up in the mountains with a pocketful of condoms.

“I didn’t really want to look at land today,” he said, his diction perfect. Perfect and very clipped.

She slowly released his hand, didn’t want him to feel her trembles. Squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t stop the wobble in her mouth. “So why did we come up here?” she asked, her voice so low she wasn’t sure if he could hear.

“Truthfully, I wanted to talk to you, Julie,” he said and she laughed, almost hysterically, because she knew then he was lying.

“I see. ‘Talk to me.’ Well, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.” She raised her chin, gathering her dignity. Hoped he wouldn’t notice the devastation in her voice. “Please l-leave now so I can get dressed.”

She waited until he left the clearing then rose and gathered her jeans. They were dry and stiff, but she yanked them on, following with socks and boots, warm and toasty from the sun. It took longer to hook her bra than it had taken Kurt to unfasten it, and she swore in frustration, then yanked her shirt down and smoothed it with her hands. There, everything was back to normal. Good to go.

She could hear the pounding of an ax, sharp and almost violent as it bit into the wood. Sounded like he was splitting a year’s supply of firewood.

She wasn’t ready to face him yet so turned and stalked up the animal trail trying to manage her pain. She swiped her cheeks, angry at him but even more angry at herself. She wished she were home, wished he was gone, and she fervently wished she hadn’t been so easy.

Would he say anything at the track? Just the thought made her groan. Gary had cautioned her about stuff like this, had stressed how important it was to keep personal affairs separate. Be squeaky clean, he’d warned. A whiff of gossip could sink a jock.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reassure herself. Kurt might consider himself a prize stud—he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body—but he didn’t seem the type to blab. The real mystery was why he had targeted her.

Had he planned this because he liked her or because he wanted a quick bang? He must be disappointed. It was a damn long way to ride for some shitty sex. She kicked a rock and kept walking.

Kurt trudged back to the campsite with the axe in his hand and a load of wood balanced in his arms. Julie’s jeans and boots were gone, and so was she. He blew out a sigh and let the wood tumble to the ground. She hadn’t passed him which meant she’d followed the trail upcountry.

He hoped she didn’t walk far, but she was mad, hurt and confused. Goddammit. He never would have touched her if he’d known how innocent she was. He cursed under his breath. He’d been taught to lie and misrepresent, and he was good at it, but when she’d looked at him with those luminous eyes, it had been impossible to lie. And then he’d hurt her worse.

Cisco’s nostrils flared with pink as he stared up the narrow trail; no doubt he was tracking Julie too. Kurt glanced at Dusty, who was still head down in the grass, and continued up the path, reassured. As long as one horse was hungry, it was unlikely the other would wander far.

Unlikely but possible.

He checked his watch, resolving to return within twenty minutes. Some hobbled horses could cover a lot of ground, and Cisco was one of them.

He walked fast, spurred by his ballooning guilt. Something moved, and he spotted Julie’s proud back. She was only twenty feet ahead, her steps hushed by the carpet of moss and lichen. He closed the gap but remained a polite distance back, giving her plenty of space. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to lie. Wasn’t yet certain of the best way to herd her back to the horses.

His hope flared when the trail led into a meadow filled with flowers. This might cheer her up—pull her out of her funk much easier than his clumsy words. She loved spring; here it was, at its finest.

Flowers dotted the grass. Snow lilies and paintbrush swayed in the breeze, creating a lush backdrop, their brightness exaggerated by the deep blue sky, the green mantle of grass, the scattering of bleached bones.

He edged around a speckled alder, his eyes narrowing. Dirt and boulders had been thrown over the meadow, their moist brownness at odds with the vivid colors, like unexpected graffiti that warned of a gang presence.

Snuffle, snuffle
. His heart jerked in horror. A massive grizzly dug for lily bulbs only a stone’s throw away. Her shoulder hump shook as her long claws tore out clumps of ground. A cub mimicked her actions.

Kurt forced his stiff legs to move. He reached for Julie, rooted to the ground. His clumsy hand grabbed hers, and together they backed away. But they were moving too slowly, breathing too loud. And then it was too late.

The grizzly raised her head. She thrust herself up on hind legs, like a heavyweight fighter readying for battle. Dirt streaked her face, masking her eyes, as she sniffed the wind for their scent.

“Don’t move.” Kurt’s tongue felt thick, his words ragged. He reached out and gripped Julie’s waist. “If she charges, I’ll distract her. Run for Cisco. Ride out for help.”

“Don’t look in her eyes.” Julie’s voice was low and urgent.

The bear’s growls deepened. She stretched higher. Her cub circled and scooted for the safety of the trees, jarring the air with his frantic bawls. Kurt scanned the meadow, desperate for a log, stick, anything. But the brilliance of the flowers mocked him. Far off, too far off, stood a stand of spruce.

Damn.

Julie stood in front of him. So small, so innocent, and he was swept with a warrior’s need to protect.

“I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “I have—”

The grizzly charged.

He grabbed her waist and jammed her behind him. “Run!” he yelled, jerking back to face the bear.

The grizzly’s head swung. Surely she wouldn’t pass him to chase Julie? Panic galvanized him and he waved his arms, yelling with a voice like a stranger’s. The bear’s head turned, and her attention locked on him. Oh shit, this wasn’t going to be fun.

Every muscle tensed as he struggled to remember everything he knew about surviving a grizzly attack.

The bear was deceptively fast. Fifteen feet away, she swerved and bolted in the direction of her bawling cub.

Oh, God, thank you
. Weak with relief, he wheeled, almost running over Julie who was frozen behind him. She hadn’t followed his directions, had been too scared to move. Understandable. Adrenaline had a weird effect.

He slung her over his shoulder and rushed down the trail, ignoring the prickling of his neck and the compulsion to glance back every second stride.

Cisco’s ears pricked as Kurt rushed past with Julie mute in his arms, but the horse turned his attention back to the grass. The pounding in Kurt’s chest eased. Cisco’s behavior confirmed the bear wasn’t following.

He wrapped Julie in the blanket—her cheeks so colorless her green eyes were a vivid slash. Knew he looked as shaken. The mountains loomed around them, heightening his sense of insignificance. He lit a fire, craving its ageless comfort.

“We’re okay now.” He lifted her onto his lap and rubbed her stiff arms.

“Some guide I am.” She managed a shaky smile. Her hands were fisted, and she clutched a small red can in her fingers.

“What’s this?” He pried opened her fist. “Bear spray?” His voice thickened as he scanned the label on the canister. She hadn’t run at all. He should have known she had too much gumption to run. She’d had his back—and he couldn’t have asked more from any partner. “You always carry that mini-can in your pocket?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and gave a shivery nod. “A promise to Dad. Did you see the size of her claws?”

“Those claws are miles away now.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I should have paid more attention to Cisco. I think he smelled her earlier.”

She tilted her head, breath still shaky. “You realize you just stared down a charging grizzly?”

“So did you, Julie,” he said.

Their eyes locked in mutual respect, and he impulsively leaned down and kissed her mouth. Kept it quick but she tasted good, too damn good, and he dragged his head away, and pressed his face into her silky hair.

“Thank you, God,” he muttered, feeling achingly alive. She was fine, he was fine, life was fine, and every one of his senses pulsed with gratitude. A squirrel scolded from a pine tree, a hawk circled lazily. Her lips stroked his throat

“You’re so warm,” she whispered.

He didn’t move, could barely breathe as she continued a slow exploration with her mouth. Up his neck, under his jaw, the side of his throat. Her breasts, her hip, every feminine curve pressed into him, seeming to scald his skin. He clenched his jaw, heard his teeth grind.

She dipped her head, tracing slow circles on his chest with her fingers, and his whole body jerked to attention, waiting on her mouth, her touch.