The Wedding Crasher and the Cowboy Page 18

  “What about the canoe?”

  “Hunter and I can get it later. Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to lose an oar and abandon a canoe.”

  She straightened her neck, lifted her chin. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “Get over here already.”

  Their canoes were touching, so really it should be no big deal to climb in. “Don’t move,” she instructed.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” The mischievous quality of his deep voice worried her, but…

  One…two…three. She dove into the other canoe with as much grace as an ostrich on roller skates. Righting herself on the seat, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Maverick. She didn’t care what she looked like, she’d done it.

  “Nice move,” he said easily enough.

  “Thanks. Want me to paddle us?”

  He blessed her with dimples that almost knocked her overboard. “I think I’ll hang on to the paddle, but thanks for asking.” He released her canoe.

  Before he started to paddle, she turned on the seat so that she faced him. There was no reason they had to face the same direction if she wasn’t paddling, right? This way she got a great view of him and his arms, as well as the scenery. All without tiring herself out!

  Unless she considered the workout he gave her eyes.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he said back.

  “This is nice.” It took all of two seconds for her body to completely decompress as they glided across the lake. Sunbeams danced off the water. Ducks flew overhead. Greenery surrounded them in the distance. And Maverick’s bare knees almost touched her bare knees.

  He rowed with a gentle rhythm, barely causing the lake to ripple. His faded red ball cap shaded his eyes and nose. Stubble lined his angular jaw and circled his mouth. It was the first time she’d seen him unshaven.

  And she liked it.

  “It is,” he agreed.

  She scanned him top to bottom. Left biceps to right biceps. Moved her gaze to the water, then back to him.

  “My view is better,” he said, looking his fill of her in return.

  “I never knew what a smooth talker you could be.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I never knew you to give such blatant perusal. Probably because you always had your nose in a book.”

  “Or I didn’t like you.”

  “That too.”

  “I do willingly admit to books getting my undivided attention. Now, though, my world has expanded. I don’t have to hide in medical journals and textbooks. I’ve almost accomplished what I set out to do, and so, for the first time, I can live outside that box.” Sage words she needed to start living by more frequently.

  “Almost?”

  “Once I have the job in Boston, I’ll be set.”

  “I never doubted you’d reach your goals. You were a big reason I worked so hard to reach mine. Or rather, you were the motivation I needed.”

  “I could say the same about you. I hated the thought of losing to you.”

  “Right back at you.” He looked beyond her. “Get ready to land.” With one big paddle, their canoe hitched up onto the sandbar.

  He jumped out first, his shoes getting wet, and pulled the canoe higher onto the sand. She took his offered hand and stepped out of the canoe, his warm, calloused palm covering her small, delicate one with ease.

  The sandbar was a U-shaped bank about the size of a playground at the park, and she wanted to bury her feet in it. She slid off her shoes and socks, wiggled her toes. The grains were soft and cool, and sent a wave of serenity up her body.

  Maverick sat down, his legs bent at the knees. She took the spot next to him, taking off the life jacket and placing it beside her. “There are so many peaceful spots on your ranch,” she said.

  “Agreed.”

  “And good places to think.”

  He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re right.”

  “Is that what you do out here and in the trees?”

  He lay back, legs remaining bent, and looked up at the sky. “Sometimes. It’s easier to work things out when I’m alone with nature.”

  “I get that.” She lay back, too, pulling down the bill of her hat to block the sun from her eyes. “No distractions, just your own brain telling you what to do.”

  “You must get exhausted.”

  “You’re hilarious.” She stretched out her legs. Closed her eyes.

  He did have a point, though, so she let her thoughts about work and weddings and ranches fade away and instead focused on her body. On letting her limbs soften into the sand, her muscles completely relax. She placed her hands on her stomach. Breathed deeply.

  About to drift off for a quick nap, she felt something tickle her foot. She pressed her heel into the sand and moved her leg side to side. When that didn’t work, she wiggled her toes. And when that didn’t work, she lifted up onto her elbows to take a look.

  “Ahh!” She scrambled backward as fast as possible, away from the reptilian creature staring at her. Wait…it was only a…small turtle? At her sudden movement, the animal hid inside its shell.

  Maverick placed the turtle in his palm, his stare full of mirth before he looked down at the creature. “It’s okay, Digger, the pretty doctor is mostly harmless and more afraid of you than you are of her.”

  Okay, where to start with that sentence? Maverick’s calling her pretty twisted her stomach into a delicious knot. She never knew exactly what to think when his eyes were on her, so knowing he liked what he saw on the outside was a welcome bit of information. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have kissed the bejesus out of her if he wasn’t attracted to her, but, since she’d never been caught up in the heat of the moment like that before, she didn’t know if looks had factored in. Hormones were potent all on their own.

  And then there was the mostly harmless comment. What did he mean by that? Because if she was given truth serum and had to spill the beans on how Maverick affected her, she’d say there was nothing safe about the new emotions creeping in and changing her opinion of him. Did he feel the same way?

  Lastly, how cute was the name Digger?

  “I think you’ve shocked her silent,” Maverick said. “Good job, buddy.” The turtle poked his head out from his shell like Maverick’s voice reassured him it was safe.

  “Hey! I’m just assessing.”

  “Assessing?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me this is the first turtle you’ve been up close to.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.” She leaned forward on her hands and knees for a closer look.

  “Shortcake, what am I going to do with you?”

  Her eyes jumped from watching the turtle emerge fully out of his shell up to Mav’s incredibly blue eyes. “That’s kind of a loaded question.” She sat back on her haunches with what she hoped was a sexy smile.

  He smirked. (Which for the record was quite sexy.) It was hard to believe this was her life right now. Stuck on a sandbar in the middle of a lake with her college nemesis and a turtle named Digger.

  “How about you start with telling me about Digger. Did you name him?”

  “Jenna did.” He put Digger down on the sand. “She found him and his girlfriend.” He nodded toward something off to Kennedy’s left. She turned her head to find another turtle climbing out of the water. “That’s Scooter. They’re red-eared sliders.”

  “How can you tell them apart?” They looked identical to her.

  “Males sport a thick, long tail while females have a short, skinny one.”

  Kennedy watched as Digger walked to meet Scooter. The red stripe behind their eyes must be where they got their name. Their shells were olive colored with yellow lines. “Do they bite?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Scratch?” Digger had elongated front claws she’d rather n
ot get acquainted with.

  “Not on purpose. They’re docile creatures who, when threatened, hide inside their shells.”

  “Much like people.” “Threatened” meaning anything uncomfortable, uneasy, awkward… Kennedy didn’t hide often, only when it came to her mom and sister. And she hated that. Hated that they made her retreat instead of communicate. No more, she thought to herself.

  “I suppose so,” he said, taking off his baseball hat, flipping it around, and putting it on his head backward.

  The switch made him even sexier. It added a boyishly handsome quality to his ruggedness she found appealing on every level.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She practically pulled a muscle in her neck looking away from him. Silently scolding herself to cool her jets, she rubbed the muscles where her neck met her shoulder.

  “Whatever you say, Shortcake.” He so knew she was not immune to him, damn it. “How about a race?”

  “What kind?”

  “The Digger against Scooter kind. Jenna and I race them all the time.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Losing her paddle had taken some wind out of her sails, and she was more than determined to prove herself. “I’m in, and there should be a prize involved.” She flashed her straight, dentist-whitened teeth at him. (It helped to know other doctors who gave steep discounts.)

  “Of course.”

  “Who usually wins?” she fired off.

  “If I told you that, you’d have an unfair advantage.”

  “But you know.”

  “True, so I’ll hold the turtles behind my back and you can pick a hand.”

  “Can I make the track?” She felt at a disadvantage no matter what, and this gave her some level of control.

  “Sure. They usually race from the sand down to the water.”

  While Maverick walked over to pick up the turtles, she did a quick study of the terrain to locate an even decline. Finding it, she shuffled over on her knees and drew a start line in the sand. “Is this distance okay?”

  “Should be.” Maverick’s shadow loomed over her. “Pick a hand.”

  She stood up, tapped her chin. “Hmm…left.”

  He brought his left arm out from behind him. “Looks like it’s girls against boys.”

  “Perfect.” She gingerly accepted Scooter in both hands, worried she’d drop the turtle otherwise. She wasn’t much bigger than Kennedy’s palm, but still. Her guiding principle was to keep everyone safe.

  They put their turtles down behind the start line but didn’t let go entirely. The animals, obviously accustomed to being held, strained their legs for release.

  “On three,” Maverick said. “One, two, three.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two days until the wedding

  Digger and Scooter both hit the sand running—or rather fast walking. It was usually hit or miss as to who won their races, and seeing the look of pure delight on Kennedy’s face, Maverick hoped Scooter won. He always hoped whichever turtle Jenna had picked won, too. Being the precocious seven-year-old that she was, though, she told him it built character to lose once in a while. No one wins every single time, Uncle Mav.

  “We forgot to pick a prize for the winner,” Kennedy said, bouncing up and down. “Go, Scooter, go!”

  Bouncing drew his gaze right to her perky breasts. Luckily, she didn’t notice, her attention solely on the turtles. Which meant he could take his time checking her out, raking his eyes up and down her body in complete fascination. That she couldn’t resist a challenge added to her allure.

  The best way to get Digger and Scooter into the water was to meet them there, so he tore his eyes away from Kennedy, tossed off his shoes, and walked down the bank. “What do you want to bet?” he asked over his shoulder. They were in his domain. There wasn’t anything he didn’t mind doing.

  “I don’t know.” She noticed him moving toward the water and did the same.

  There was never a guarantee this worked, but the playful side of him that Kennedy pulled out with ease chose right now to surface and perform. He stepped into the cold water up to the tops of his shins and splashed the fresh water onto the shore by kicking his feet. “Down here, Digger!”

  Kennedy’s eyes widened. Never one to be outdone, she immediately strode into the lake, her body shivering at the contact, and kicked water right at him instead of the sandbar. “Down here, Scooter!”

  “Hey!” He splashed her back.

  She grinned and continued splashing him, an arm and leg involved now.

  “If I win, you camp out with me tonight,” he tossed out without much thought beyond she’d hate the idea and he…liked it. “And if you win, you don’t.”

  “Or if I win you…you…” She spit out water that had gotten into her mouth. “You go to the wedding with me.”

  They both stopped splashing.

  “I’ve been formally invited, and Andrew told me this morning he has his own invite and…” She wiped hair from her face. “I think it would be fun to go with you.”

  Honored she asked, and relieved her crashing days were over, “okay” sat on the tip of his tongue. As a rule, though, he didn’t attend weddings on the ranch. He’d pictured his own wedding here and since that didn’t happen, he couldn’t bring himself to watch someone else’s.

  “Do we have a deal?” She moved closer and splashed him with both hands.

  His hands were much bigger, and thus his splashes more powerful. He retaliated and drenched her. Not that she seemed to care, if the smile on her face was any indication. His own cheeks started to hurt from smiling throughout this friendly competition.

  “We do.” He’d tell her the truth if she won, and ask her to pick something else.

  The splashing got serious after that. They laughed and sprayed each other, kicking their feet up and swiping their arms through the cold water. For someone much smaller than him, she gave as good as she got, never letting up. Water went in his mouth, up his nose, inside his ears.

  She advanced on him. He dodged left. She pivoted with little effort and heaps of determination on her face. He hopped right, let his arms rest for a moment. Not because he was tired, but so she could get a good, solid splash in without immediate reciprocation.

  “Don’t you dare let me win this!” Her hands went to her hips.

  Big mistake.

  He splashed her full force, never thinking for a second he had the upper hand or would let her win. What Kennedy lacked in size compared to him, she more than made up for in tenacity. She was heart, guts, and attitude all rolled into one impressive package.

  She spewed water out of her mouth and grumbled her dislike of him. He laughed, not at her but with her. He didn’t think she saw it that way, though, and spurred on even more now, she went full-court press on him. So much so that she lost her balance.

  He caught her before her backside hit the water and instead, he brought her toward his chest. She didn’t fight him. She grabbed the front of his soaked shirt and helped heave her body closer to his, causing them to crash together, her arms sliding around his waist. Him wrapping one arm around her shoulders and securing the hand on his other arm firmly on her bottom. Totally involuntary. Mostly.

  If points in time were measured in pure pleasure, then this one neared the top of the list. Everything around him faded away (this was becoming customary with her), narrowed down to a simple, albeit complicated, look between them. Droplets clung to her long eyelashes and her lips parted slightly as she caught her breath.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stood that way. It could have been a minute. It could have been ten. He did know he relished their position and had no plans to let her go.

  “The turtles!” she exclaimed, jumping back and breaking the spell she’d cast over him.

  Digger and Scooter were no longer on the sand. Nope. They were swimmin
g in the lake away from him and Kennedy.

  “Shoot! We didn’t see who won,” she said. “This is your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “Totally. You were the one who started splashing.”

  “Not at you. I was splashing toward Digger when you decided to launch an attack on innocent me.”

  “That’s because you didn’t tell me you had a secret weapon in your pocket, which makes you far from innocent.”

  “Okay, true, but it took you all of a second to figure it out, which I knew would happen.” He smiled at her, earning him a spot back in her good graces by the way she tilted her head and pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth lifting anyway.

  “I guess we’ll have to call it a tie,” she said.

  “Sounds fair.”

  “I’d still like you to go to the wedding with me.”

  He stroked the side of his neck, then to deflect said, “I’d still like you to camp out with me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Shit.” She wasn’t supposed to be so agreeable, not when his nerves were shot at the prospect of watching two people get married on his family’s ranch.

  “What?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.

  “I thought you’d say no.” So that I could say no.

  “So you don’t really want me to camp with you?”

  “No, I do. But the wedding…”

  She looked down and away. “You don’t want to go.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin and brought her gaze back to him. “It has nothing to do with you, but can I think about it? I don’t usually attend weddings here at the ranch.”

  She contemplated him, those light brown eyes of hers soft, sincere, and assessing. “Of course. In the meantime, what does camping out involve exactly?”

  “A campfire, sleeping bags, stars brighter than any you’ve ever seen before.”

  “We sleep on the ground?”

  “If that’s roughing it too much, I could supply a blow-up mattress to lay your sleeping bag on.”

  “No tent?”

  “And block the view of the sky?”

  “That’s true.” They walked back to the sandbar. He kept his attention above her neck, not an easy task when once again her wet clothes showed off her curves. “What about wild animals?”