Summer Kisses (290 page)

My sister looked back at me.

“It’s because I’m a wimp, isn’t it?” I asked.

Quinn reached out and rubbed his knuckles between my shoulder blades in an affectionate gesture. I tried not to melt.

“No. Not at all. I want you to enjoy this. That other trail starts with a really nasty climb. It’d be like an hour on the Stairmaster. You won’t like it.”

Having come in contact with the Stairmaster at the gym earlier in the week, I believed him and would do anything to stay away from the tough incline. Six minutes on that torture contraption, and I’d been toast. I wasn’t deluding myself into believing I was suddenly in shape because I’ve been going to the gym for a couple weeks.

Grace agreed, and we began walking. Our trail started on a paved path then branched off into a fairly level dirt trail. My sister walked ahead of me, and Quinn beside or behind me, depending on how wide the path. “Watch the roots,” Grace called back.

I stepped cautiously over that part of the terrain.

“How’re you doing?” Quinn asked after we’d been walking for fifteen or so minutes.

“Pretty good. Everything seems pretty level.”

“It’ll get tougher up ahead, so if you want to go back instead of circling around, let me know.”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

The trail veered sharply to the left and climbed until it wasn’t so much a trail but more of a suggestion of one. Or maybe like a deer walked here once. We came to a rocky outcropping that we needed to go over. Grace scrambled over while Quinn laced his fingers and bent down, presenting them as a foothold. “Ready to go?”

I looked skeptically at him and then at the big rock that stood almost as high as my shoulder. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to go around?”

He gave me a challenging look. The one he uses at the gym to keep me from wimping out before my full thirty reps are done or before I’ve finished my time on the treadmill. “You turnin’ scaredy-cat on me?” Quinn grinned.

“It’s
your
hernia.” I placed the toe of my foot in his grasp and let him boost me up until I was kneeling on the top of the rock. However un-PC it was to admit, I also enjoyed the feel of his steadying hand on my butt as I turned around to scoot down the other side.

I landed on my feet next to my sister. She continued walking, and I followed.

“So what’s with you and Quinn?”

“Nothing.”

“He pulled one of Joe’s famous moves.”

Joe had been Grace’s mostly platonic best friend from elementary school until about a year ago, when he left town. Something big had happened, but she’d never been willing to share. I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”

“Joe has been using hiking as an excuse to cop a feel since we were in the eighth grade. And if I’m not mistaken, Quinn did exactly the same thing.”

To the best of my knowledge, Joe and Grace had never dated. But there’d always been something there which hovered over them like a storm cloud.

“No. It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“So were Joe and I.”

Yeah, right.
On both counts.

“You heard from him lately?”

“Nope. And I don’t expect to.” Her mouth tightened, and that was the end of that.

My conversation this morning with Quinn on the car ride ran through my mind. Definitely an undertone to what he was saying. Maybe he
did
want to date me?

Obviously there was chemistry on his side. His kisses proved that fairly spectacularly.

But the fact that he might
really
consider doing something about it rather than simply getting carried away from time to time was slightly shocking. I wasn’t going to hold my breath on anything happening between us—especially when Quinn was obviously having problems with his business—but it was kind of fun to play the wouldn’t-it-be-nice-if... game.

Quinn caught up and fell into step beside me.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“What for?”

“This could have been really miserable if I weren’t in better shape and I owe that to you.” I loved the fact that the trail wasn’t too strenuous. Sure, it was challenging enough to keep me from being bored, but I wasn’t huffing and puffing, and I was able to keep up. And I felt good.

“You’ve done all the work yourself.”

At my skeptical look, he continued, “Sure, I’ve encouraged and challenged you, but you’re the one who’s putting in the sweat every day and sticking to it.” He paused to study a tree off to the right then turned back to me. “I’m proud of you for the way you’re pulling yourself together, the way you live honestly. You saw a problem, you decided to do something about it, and you’re working through it. I know how hard it is to have a major change of life like that. Losing weight is difficult, but you’re making it look easy. You make everything look easy.” He reached out and squeezed my hand then let it drop.

My heart pounded in reaction to his statement. My feet barely able to keep time. That may have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.

We continued hiking, but the entire tenor of the outing had changed for me.

Soon—
too soon—
we came out on the other side and back to the Jeep.

“So, how was it?” Quinn asked.

“I really enjoyed it.”

“If you like that, let’s go backpacking.”

Grace gave me a look that could have shouted “Danger! Danger!” but he wasn’t dissuaded. “I think you can handle it, and we’ll pick a trail that won’t be too difficult. You’re in much better shape than you were a few weeks ago. I think you’ll find that this is pretty doable for you.”

A chance to spend more time with him? Go ahead...

Twist.

My.

Arm.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Hey, as long as we’re out here, let’s go for ice cream,” Grace suggested.

Smith’s Dairy had killer ice cream and was only blocks away. I could almost feel the double-chocolate fudge ripple melting on my tongue.

Looking up at Quinn, the excitement drained out of me. He wasn’t going to be up for junk food, and I really should decline. I was doing so well, I didn’t want to backslide.

“Why not?” he said to my surprise. “We’ve definitely worked it off.”

I glanced up, expecting to see the mind-controlling pod people standing behind him. He grinned. “What? I occasionally deserve a treat.”

Quinn and I climbed into his Jeep as Grace got into her car. A few minutes later, we arrived at the dairy.

“What would you ladies like? My treat.”

“Strawberry cone,” Grace said.

“Single scoop of double-chocolate fudge ripple.” Not my usual brownie sundae, but worth the trade-off.

Quinn went to get the ice cream, and I sat down across from my sister.

“So when are you going to decide about your reunion?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You definitely should go.”

“So you keep telling me,” I said, blowing a stray lock of hair from my eyes.

Except, every time I thought about it, I got cold pricklies in my stomach, and my palms began to sweat. I didn’t really want to go.

But it was something I knew I
should
do.

“How about a round of racquetball?” John asked when he came into my office late Friday morning.

I stretched, feeling the effects of being hunched over my computer screen all morning. God, I missed the days when running the gym actually required being
in
the gym.

“Sounds great.” I picked up the phone. “Hey, Jenna. Are there any unreserved racquetball courts right now?”

“Number two’s available for the next hour and a half.”

I thanked her and hung up.

“If we hurry, we can get in a couple of matches before the lunch crowd,” I said.

We met on the court after getting changed, rackets in hand.

“You ready for me to wipe the floor with you?” John asked from behind protective goggles.

“And then you woke up.”

Like life and the courtroom, John was competitive when it came to sports. He was also incredibly athletic. One of the few people I could play and not have to worry about pulling any punches.

I could usually still beat him, but it took all my effort.

Today I wouldn’t have to watch what I ate for lunch or need another workout unless I wanted to hang out with Katherine,

Which meant I’d get a double workout today.

John served first, hitting the ball against the far wall and setting up a nice warm-up shot for me.

I sent it flying back at an angle he was sure to hit. This gentlemanly play lasted at least ninety seconds, and then it was no-holds-barred blood sport.

As I stretched for each increasingly difficult shot, my muscles warmed up, and my body loosened.

I slammed a shot off two walls that John had to reach for.

He missed. Not only missed but slid across the floor with a squeak of his gym shoes and knees across the glossy wood.

I stood, dumbfounded, wondering what the hell had happened. It hadn’t been that difficult a shot. And this was
John
we were talking about. John didn’t miss easy shots.

Ever.

“You hurt?” I asked.

He muttered something that sounded like “oaf” followed by some rather derogatory comments about my mother and family lineage in general.

Which, in John-speak, meant he was annoyed, maybe a little embarrassed to have so spectacularly lost a point, but otherwise unharmed.

“Don’t tell me you’re worn out already.” I let a grin of victory slide across my face.

He glared as I helped him off the floor.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said. “I’m more tired than I realized.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t get home until late and then didn’t sleep well.” He fetched the ball. “We gonna to do this or what?”

I suspected both the reason he’d insisted on the game and the reason he was so tired had a lot to do with Will. Not very sporting of me, but I was willing to use that to my advantage. Not to mention the greater good of letting John get whatever he needed to off his chest.

“Where did you go last night?” I asked as I served.

John barely got in front of the ball in time to smack it back into the wall.

“I ran into Will at Mama DiSalvo’s.” He returned my next lob.

“Yeah? How long were you there?”

“Four—” He smacked the ball with all his might, and I dove for it. “—hours. Maybe more.”

I didn’t respond. Just waited for his return. He kept to the middle of the court to better be able to get forward and back as necessary. Even though he was distracted, he still played well.

“Whatever was there before—” He nailed the side wall, nearly beaming me. His point. “—It’s still there.”

John was not pleased by this fact. I could tell by the murderous look in his eye, and the malice with which he abused the little blue rubber ball.

“What could you guys talk about for four hours?” I asked.

John laughed, but it wasn’t his usual bored, derisive laugh. He actually sounded happy. Confused and a little panicky, but happy.

He smacked the next ball at me with less force. I hit it back near him.

“We talked about everything.” Smack. “Movies, reality TV, work.” Smack. “Cross-country skiing, the relative merits of college—” Smack. “—versus pro football...
Everything
.”

“Everything? Like everything that happened between you before?”

He caught the ball at the last second, swinging wildly and nearly missing.

John was quiet for a moment, waiting for my next return.

He missed it. I didn’t gloat over the point.

“Yeah. Even that. I didn’t realize... I mean, I know you said he’d been...” He paused as I served.

“Annihilated?” I prompted after a long pause and a hard return.

“Yeah.” John reached for the next ball, making it half-heartedly. “I really fucked him over.”

“That’s not news.” Now we were hitting directly to each other. I wondered if he was aware of it. Where had his competitive spirit gone? For me to play hard at this point would be shooting fish in a barrel.

“It was to me. I didn’t realize.”

He was beating himself up enough over this one that I didn’t need to add to it. “So what happens now? Are you going to see him again?”

His frustration showed in his next couple of hits.

I could hear John breathing hard but otherwise his silence dragged on.

“Do you think… I can’t even imagine him being willing to consider that, can you? After all this time?” He made the next shot off the ceiling.

“I don’t know.” I ducked to avoid getting whacked in the head, not even trying to make the shot.

We were both breathing hard as John fetched the ball from the corner where it finally ran out of energy. He leaned over, trying to catch his breath.

I wouldn’t wish what John was going through on anyone. After all, I was dealing with my own reluctance to get involved in a less-than-perfect relationship. Not that Katherine wasn’t nearly perfect in every way that really counted. But the outside world could potentially be fairly hateful to Katherine and me, though not nearly as hateful as they might be to John and Will.

If John chose to pursue this—not that I believed he was making a choice about who he was, only about whether or not he was going to do anything about it—he was in for a hard journey.

For his sake, and to some extent Will’s, I hoped John could do it. He deserved to be happy in his own skin.

Probably a lesson in this for me as well.

“You know who would know what your chances are?” I asked.

“Katherine?” John’s tone was hopeful as he stood up.

“What? Are we in high school again?” I motioned with my racket for him to start playing again. “I was thinking
Will
,” I said, my tone wry.

“Oh. Well, obviously.” John still hadn’t served.

I dropped out of my ready stance.

That I thought he should continue talking to Will didn’t mean I wasn’t curious enough to step down the hall once I returned to my office and get the scoop from Katherine. I had thought for a long time that John would be a lot happier if he’d come out of the closet. Not that I could or would have ever said so to him.