“I will,” she said. “You’re getting an invitation, you know.”
“Russ mentioned it. I didn’t think he was serious.”
“Boston’s not far.”
He caught the ends of her dripping hair by her chin between his fingers. “Ant,” he said. “It’s gone now. Your hair will take a while to dry in this humidity.” He kept his hand close to her face. “Never have been fussy about your hair, have you?”
“I’m your classic wash-and-go type.”
“It works,” he said. “I’ve missed you, Felicity. Right now I realize how much I’ve missed, too, by letting you stalk out of my life. We were damn good friends.”
“Best buds, huh?”
His eyes darkened. He’d shifted slightly and was catching some of the shade, maybe. But that wasn’t it, or at least not all of it. It was his natural intensity, his laser-like focus—directed at her at the moment. Entirely at her.
She cleared her throat. “Gabe...”
“Is that what you want? To be buddies again, the way we were when you slept on my couch?”
“I missed you, too. I used my anger at you to motivate me, never thinking...” She took in a breath. “Never thinking it’d be three years before I saw or spoke to you again.”
“More than three. It was in the teens that day. It’s, what, eight-five now?”
“Getting there,” she said.
He eased his hand to the back of her neck and lowered his mouth to hers. “Let’s see where we go from here, okay? But I don’t think we’re ever going to be just ‘best buds’ again.” He smiled. “What do you think?”
Her skin seemed sensitized, as if every inch of her were alive, crying out for his touch. Her lips parted slightly, and their mouths touched, tentative at first, then less so—definitely less so. She put a hand on his upper arm, balancing herself as their kiss deepened. This wasn’t the chaste kiss of friends or the reckless kiss of their teenaged past but something more. She shut her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations coursing through her. The taste of him, the touch of his hand on her wet, bare skin, the feel of the warm breeze, the sounds of the river. They all mixed together, stirring her senses and her emotions.
Then Gabe swore and sat up straight.
Felicity gaped at him. “What? Did a mosquito bite you?”
“Kayakers.” He pointed up the river. “It wouldn’t do for them to catch us.”
She followed his gesture and spotted two brightly colored kayaks headed their way. “I guess it wouldn’t.”
He sighed. “A kiss is one thing, but we were headed to more than that.”
“Think so?”
He grinned at her. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Did you see the kayakers before you started that kiss? So you’d have an out and wouldn’t get carried away?”
“I never get carried away. I’m always in supreme control of myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure.”
He winked. “I’m going to need another dip in the river. How about you?”
“Take your time. I’ll meet you up at the house. I’ll make coffee.” She stood up on the wet boulder, mindful of not slipping. “I can’t believe we did all this before breakfast.”
He gave her a look that suggested “all this” wasn’t, in fact all he’d wanted to do, but he eased into the water without comment, or before she could comment.
“Gabe,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, Gabe.”
He’d always been her best friend, but as she watched him swim hard, smooth strokes into the deep water, Felicity realized he’d always been more, too. Only she’d never let herself take that idea too far. Even their night together before college, she hadn’t examined her feelings too deeply. She hadn’t wanted to risk their friendship by getting soppy.
And here she was, doing it again.
She slipped into her sandals and walked back up the path to her house. She put on coffee and ducked into her room for a shower and dry clothes. When she emerged, Gabe was in the kitchen. He’d poured himself coffee. “I can pour you some—”
“It’s no trouble, thanks.”
“I wasn’t sure when you’d be out of the shower.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’ll get out of your way, let you work. I might grab a bite at Smith’s. Felicity...” He sucked in a breath before he continued. “I have to leave today, and I want to and I don’t want to. I can’t pinpoint why, but I’m going to guess it has to do with you.”
“It has to do with being back here, on your grandfather’s old campsite. If I’d rented an apartment at Moss Hill, you wouldn’t think your ambivalence about leaving had anything to do with me.”
“Wrong.”
“Wrong? You can’t just tell me I’m wrong. I’m giving you an opinion.”
“I disagree. Better?”
She poured coffee. “Marginally.”
“I disagree because I’d have still gotten a rope and tied it to a tree and found a way to get you down to our old swimming hole, because it was meant to be.” He set his mug on the counter and stood straight. “There. Chew on that while I’m at Smith’s making my way through a stack of buttermilk pancakes.”
He strutted off down the hall to the guest room.
Only word for it, Felicity thought, arms across her chest. Strut. As if he knew what she was thinking—knew the inner workings of her mind and heart, her deepest desires, what was good for her...
Which she realized she didn’t find annoying, not the way she would have three years ago.
He wasn’t telling her what to think or feel or what she was thinking and feeling. For once, he was telling her what he thought and felt, at least in his Gabe way. He believed their kiss by the river was meant to be. That swimming, leaping from the rope, laughing and enjoying each other’s company—all of it was meant to be. In saying so, she’d felt as if he’d reached deep into her mind and heart.
In two minutes, he returned to the kitchen with his duffel bag. “Thanks for putting me up.”
“No problem. Safe trip.”
“It’s just to Boston. Come visit.” He smiled as
