“They did a lot right,” Gabe said. “I just didn’t see it when I was racing to Boston to see the Red Sox beat the Yankees.”
“They lost to the Yankees by three runs.”
He kicked water on her. “Wet blanket.”
“You’re the one who told me to look life square in the eye.”
“Your career choices and your debt,” he said. “Not my rose-colored glasses memory of a Red Sox game.”
“You remember they lost,” she said, not making it a question.
“Tied going into the eighth and the Yankees stole second base with two outs and ended up getting the lead. Red Sox got two men on base in the bottom of the ninth but didn’t score.” He sat up straight. “We should take another dip before we get too warm.”
“Good idea. I don’t want to have to get used to the water all over again.”
“It’s not as cold as the brook,” he said.
“That’s not saying much.”
He stood on the flat boulder, backed up as far as he could and cannonballed into the water. He swam out of the way and flipped onto his back. “You’re next.”
Felicity stood up, the rock slippery where she and Gabe had dripped. Since he’d gone ahead of her, it was wet where he’d stood to get his running start into the water. A breeze floated across the river as if from nowhere, sprouting goose bumps on her arms and legs. She was grateful she wasn’t wearing a revealing swimsuit.
“I’ll count to three,” he said.
“Make it five.”
“Whatever happened to reckless, fear-nothing Felicity MacGregor?”
She glared at him. “All right. Make it three.”
“I’ll split the difference and make it four.”
“Nobody does anything to the count of four.”
He groaned and started counting. On three, she leaped into the river in a sloppy cannonball. The water felt good now, just cold enough on the hot day. She popped up, and Gabe was there. He caught her around the waist. “I’m standing on a rock.”
She knew the rock at the river bottom, allowing him to stand up in water that otherwise would have been over his head.
“You know what to do,” he said with a grin.
Felicity did, indeed. She threw her arms over his shoulders. “Okay. Go ahead. Fling me.”
He hoisted her up, and she put her feet flat on his thighs. Then he tossed her into the water back first, as they’d done countless times as teenagers. She went under, swam into deeper water, away from the riverbank but not so far she’d get swept into the current. She flipped onto her back and looked up at the sky, pretending she was fifteen again, with no worries beyond her summer reading list and saving enough money from her part-time job.
She swam back to him. “I wish I could flip you but you’re too big these days.”
“All grown up,” he said with a grin.
Yes. Definitely. She cleared her throat. “I should get back. I have a few things to do before dinner.”
“One more jump from the rope?”
“I’ve got all summer.”
“Yes,” he said. “You do.”
“All right. I’ll stay while you jump once more. Someone needs to be here in case you split your head open.”
“You’re all heart, Felicity.”
She climbed out of the water onto the bank and, grabbing a skinny poplar sapling by the trunk, hoisted herself up to the steep path. She had to crab-walk midway, holding on to embedded rocks and tree roots. She finally launched herself to the oak tree where they left their clothes.
Gabe was right behind her. She hadn’t realized it. He hopped up and grinned at her. “You still have a nice butt.”
“Gabe.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
He leaned out and grabbed the rope. Ideally, he’d have stayed on the bank on her turn and caught the rope as it swung back, but he’d been in the water. As kids, they’d tied the rope farther out on the branch, allowing for a landing in deeper water, but one of them would have had to crawl out along the branch to reach the rope. This worked fine.
“I’ll catch the rope when it swings back,” she said.
“Why don’t we go together?”
“What? It won’t hold—”
“It’ll hold just fine.”
And he hooked an arm around her middle, lifted her and leaped for the rope, using the momentum to swing them out over the river. He let go of the rope, and down they went in a tangle of limbs. She clung to him as they hit the water, went under, disentangled and surfaced.
She spit out water and brushed wet hair out of her eyes with one hand. He treaded water next to her, grinning. “That was fun,” he said.
“It was insane.”
“You used to like insane.”
“Within reason. This wasn’t within reason. We both could have split our heads open.”
“But we didn’t.”
She sighed. “No, we didn’t.” She treaded water next to him. “Now I have to climb up the bank again. I should make you carry me.”
“Now that would be dangerous.”
“Are you suggesting I’m too heavy?”
“No. Not suggesting anything of the sort.”
She saw it in his eyes then. Lust. Plain and simple. She recognized that look for what it was and flipped on her stomach and swam away from him, toward the riverbank. She lifted herself onto a small boulder next to the path. “You first, Mr. Flanagan.”
He swam toward her, his strokes strong and smooth—which only added to her sense of physical awareness. “Your turn to watch my butt?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He grinned. “I did.”
“I was thinking I don’t need you watching my butt.”
“Since when are you self-conscious?”
“Gabe, we’re flirting with danger here. You’re bored.”
He flicked a drop of water off her chin. “What if I kissed you right now?”
“Where would that get you?”
“Gee, I wonder.” He ran his hands through his hair, squeezing out some of the water. “I’ll go first. Enjoy the view.”
He wasn’t the least bit self-conscious, she realized. He took the path quickly, using momentum to carry him up the steep bank. He only needed to grab one tree root. When he got to the top,
