Summer Sunsets (10 page)

“
Hey, Devin,” Warren says.
“Am I glad to see you.”

I nod. “Yeah, it sucks to
be outnumbered, doesn’t it?” he chuckles, and I point to the
ladder. “why don’t you let me climb up there and take care of the
high parts?

He eyes me and finally
nods. “Yeah, well, I guess you are taller. I’ll grab a brush and
help down here.”

As if on cue, Skye appears
with the paint. Knowing I’m going to be the one on the ladder, she
hands it to me. I get it settled where I’m pretty sure it won’t
spill and take the brush she’s offering.

“
Haven’t you stirred the
other gallon yet?” I ask. She opens her mouth in protest, but I
don’t give her the chance as I shake my head in mock disapproval.
“No excuses, Skye. You were given a job, and you were slacking off.
Shame on you.”

Warren smirks as Skye
glares at me a moment before heading back to tackle the other can.
We both watch her, fighting the urge to giggle.

“
You know, you’re really
good for her, Devin. You always have been,” Warren says as I climb
the ladder. I could argue there was a time I wasn’t good for her,
that I should’ve done things differently, but we both know that’s
old news and that bringing it up now isn’t going to help anybody,
least of all Skye.

“
She’s wonderful,” I
say.

“
She never smiles nearly so
much as when you’re around. It’s like you bring out the best in
her.”

“
Really?” I say, wondering
if Skye’s okay inside. She’s always been one to bottle things up,
and that scares me.

“
Yeah.” We both watch her
shake the next can, open it, and stir the paint to make sure it’s
well-mixed.

“
She’s different when she’s
with you.”

I dip the brush into the
paint. “How do you think she’s doing?” I reach to the top of the
wall, a place even I have to struggle to get to, so it’s a good
thing Warren isn’t doing this.

“
She’s got her regrets,
Devin. That’s easy enough to see, but haven’t we all?”

“
Isn’t that the truth?” I
mutter, dipping my brush in for another swipe. “Other than
that?”

“
I think she’s finally okay.
It’s taken her a while to get there, but I couldn’t be happier
she’s finally arrived.”

I nod. “Yeah, well, between
you and me, I kind of wanted to propose to her, but I don’t know if
it’s the right thing or if she’s ready. The last thing I want to do
is spook her.”

Warren stops painting a
moment as though he’s concentrating. “Yeah, that’s a tough one.
I’ve no doubt Skye loves you—she’d lost without you—but I can also
understand your apprehension.” He takes a deep breath as Skye
approaches. “The best advice I can give you is to give it
time.”

“
Give what time?” Skye asks,
handing Warren the second can and a brush.

“
Painting,” I say as Warren
simultaneously replies, “Job hunting.”

Skye narrows her eyes and
sets her hands on her hips as she looks from me to Warren and back.
“You two might want to get your stories straight before answering
next time,” she retorts, going to pick up her own brush.

“
You think she heard us?” I
ask.

“
Nah. Otherwise, she
wouldn’t have bothered asking.”

As we spot Skye
approaching, we get quiet and busy painting, much too busy to carry
on with our conversation—never mind that it was already over. I
feel Skye watching us carefully, as though she’s trying to puzzle
out our exchange.

“
I know you two are up to
something. You’re always up to something.” She waves a warning
finger at us. “No funny business or we won’t get the house
painted.”

Warren shrugs at me. “I
wasn’t intending to do any ‘funny business.’ Were you,
Devin?”

“
Nope,” I say, dipping my
brush into the can. “I’m just here to mind my own business and
paint. That’s it.”

She gives us one more
warning look and begins painting close to the ladder. For a while,
things progress smoothly—at least until I load a little too much
paint on my brush and it drips on Skye’s head.

“
Hey,” she complains. “Paint
the house, not me.”

“
Oops,” I say and mean it.
If I’d meant to do it, it would have amounted to far more than a
few specks. That does give me a little inspiration, which is always
a dangerous thing. I dip the brush back into the can but let a lot
of the excess run off: I’m trying to mess with her, not change her
hair color to sterling gray. I lift the brush and flick it at her,
raining paint on her. She stands there, shaking her
head.

“
So not funny, Devin. Would
you stop that?”

“
On one condition,” I say
smugly and let more paint fly.

“
Okay, stop splattering me,
at least until I have a chance to turn you down,” she
smirks.

“
Turn me down?” I yell and
spray her harder.

“
Okay, okay—what’s the
condition?” She dabs at her face, trying to wipe away the paint but
ends up smearing it. Apparently she’s lousy at taking her own
advice. That makes me chuckle because even covered in paint she’s
so beautiful it steals my breath.

“
Come away with me
tonight—no questions asked.” I dip the brush in the pain and paint
the wall. In my peripheral vision, I watch her set her hands on her
hips and glare at me, one paint-splattered hand shielding her eyes
from the sun’s glare.

“
No questions asked? Is that
what you and Warren were talking about?”

“
Nope.” I flick the almost
spent brush in her direction, stippling her face with a fine layer
of paint.

“
Okay, that’s it,” she says
and starts grabbing my leg as the brush drops from her hand.
Knowing that if I don’t get down on my own, both the ladder and an
almost-full paint can will be toast, I jump to the ground and set
my brush on the ladder.

“
All you have to do is say
yes. Then I’ll paint the house instead of you.”

She lunges toward me, and I
move to one side, thinking she’s trying to trip me, but instead she
wipes her face on my shirt, sharing the mess.

I laugh, and that makes her
try to trip me, which results in her on the ground instead of
me.

“
Yes
is a simple word,” I say, picking up her brush. “You really
should use it.

She closes her eyes. “No
questions, eh?”

“
Non, nada, zip,
zilch.”

She takes a deep breath.
“Okay—but you’d better get to painting or neither of us is going
anywhere.”

“
Deal,” I say, offering my
hand. She takes it, and I pull her upright.

As I turn to focus on
painting again, she grabs her brush and swipes it across my nose.
Laughing, she says, “And that’s for earlier.”

Chapter Nine

As I clean up, it seems to
take forever to get the paint out of my hair and off my face and
body. I think we spent most of the afternoon seeing who could get
the most paint on the other, and yes, I won. As Warren watched, he
seemed to be smiling about the whole thing, even though we didn’t
get as much paint on the house as we should’ve.

As we quit about six, there
are a few hours of light left, which is perfect for my plans, which
include pitching a tent out by the lake and enjoying another picnic
dinner with only singing birds as our company. I can’t help
slipping the ring in my pocket, not that I believe there’ll be a
chance to propose. That doesn’t stop me from hoping. I pack a small
duffle with things I’d need for the night, a few things I think
Skye might need since I haven’t exactly clued her in on my plans.
For some reason, I’m afraid if I tell her, she’ll decide it isn’t a
good idea. Skye is okay with spur of the moment, but any time I try
to plan anything remotely romantic, it tends to go awry with
her.

Once I finish putting
everything together, I drive to her place and ring the bell.
Although I’m kind of expecting Warren to answer because it seems to
take Skye forever to get ready, she opens the door, and I can tell
by the rest of the dark house that something strange is going
on.

“
Are your mom and Warren
out?” I ask as she steps onto the porch.

“
No. Mom’s got a raging
headache. She’s been getting them a lot lately, which bothers
me.”

I touch her arm. “I’m sure
she’s going to be fine.”

She nods. “Yeah, I know.
Anyhow, Warren is up there with her, reading. He’s always reading.”
Skye shakes her head and I wonder if she’s thinking about the time
Warren first came into her life and gave her a book. She’d once
hated him, but now you can’t tell he’s not her real
father.

Skye pulls the door closed
and smiles. “So, where’re we headed?”

I lean close and whisper,
“It’s a surprise.”

Growling, she punches my
arm. “You keep saying that.”

“
I keep meaning it.” I slide
my arm around her. and even though she initially tenses, her
shoulders gradually ease as our steps fall into rhythm.

“
All right.” She gestures to
her jeans and t-shirt. “Am I at least dressed properly for this
mysterious event?”

I take a step back and
stroke my fingers down my chin as though thinking. “Hmmm. I’m
thinking maybe you should be wearing one of those cool Marilyn
Monroe halter dresses and pose over a vent.”

That gets me both a slug in
the arm and a savage push. I can’t help but laugh at the outraged
expression on her face as she screams, “So not funny!”

As quickly as I can stop
laughing, I tell her the jeans are fine, but I get the sense that
even if they weren’t, Skye wouldn’t change. That’s one of the
things I really like about her. She wants people to take her the
way she is, and I agree with that. There’s nothing wrong with her.
Granted she’s stubborn as hell, but even that has a place in
things.

The whole way to the
campsite, Skye sings along with the radio, and even though I love
her dearly, the girl can’t carry a tune. I’m kind of surprised the
dogs aren’t howling, but I smile and keep that observation to
myself.

The singing abruptly stops
as I pull into the campsite and park. Frowning, she ask, “Should I
ask what we’re doing here?”

I shrug. “You could, but I
thought it was fairly obvious: fishing, camping, that sort of
thing.” Not waiting for her to respond, I get out, and she follows.
“We can even go swimming if it gets too hot.” I shove my keys into
my pocket.

She brushes the hair from
her eyes. “I didn’t bring a suit.”

“
I packed an extra tee shirt
and shorts in case you wanted to swim in those.”

“
Oh, well, you’ve thought of
everything.” She beams.

As I start to pull my hand
out of my pocket, my fingers touch the ring. She’s only partly
right. I’ve figured out everything except the most important thing.
I guess I’ll know what to say when I get to that point, so instead
of dwelling on it, I grab the fishing poles from the back of the
Jeep and take the small Styrofoam container with the
worms.

“
You’re serious about the
fishing part?” she asks as she spies the poles.

“
Of course.” I carry the
poles to the shore and return for the two folding chairs lying next
to the tent. Even from my peripheral vision I can see Skye is
shocked.

“
I don’t know about this,”
she says dubiously, folding her arms across her chest.

Smiling, I unfold the
chairs and nod for her to sit. “Don’t be such a baby,
Skye.”

“
All right, all right,” she
agrees, sitting, “but don’t blame me when I get my line tangled
into God-only-knows-what. Remember last time?”

“
I remember.” I sit and get
one of the poles ready by loading a worm onto the hook. I pass it
to Skye. “Here—hold this. In a minute, I’ll help you cast
out.”

“
Lucky me.”

I finish prepping the other
pole before setting it aside and motioning for Skye to follow me to
the water’s edge. Taking a deep breath, she joins me, and I look at
her pole. “You ready?”

She eyes the pole and then
me. “Okay. Sure. What can possibly go wrong? It’s only a little
hook.” That’s when she takes a good look at the worm. “Ewww, that’s
disgusting.”

I grab the pole. “Okay,
Skye. Quit acting like a girl—”

“
I
am
a girl,” she argues, grabbing the
pole back. “Besides, I think I’ve got this, and she casts out all
right—too bad she releases the button way early and the hook
tangles in her hair.

“
Ouch!”

“
Don’t move!” I tell her and
ease the pole from her hand. “I’ve got to say you suck at
this.”

“
Just get the damn hook out
already.”

“
Give me a minute.” I gently
take the strand of hair where the hook and worm are tangled and
slowly work the hair from around it until I can get it free. I wind
the line back up to prepare for another cast. She starts to take
the pole, but I jerk it out of her reach.