but the wind whipped her hair away and exposed her anger.
“That’s not my point. You’re already breathing hard. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything, Robin. It’ll be like I’m your runner. Just helping out where you need it.”
That was it? He just wanted to help, and she could accept it on the baseball field but not here? Robin bit her lip and stared at her crutches. She could remember back to when she didn’t have them, when people, usually her grandmother, carried her everywhere she needed to go. She hadn’t started taking steps until she was almost five, after her fourth or fifth surgery.
She could even remember back to when her mother carried her—here, to this island, to leave her once and for all, complaining about Robin’s weight and saying that she wasn’t even trying.
Robin had been trying ever since, but now, maybe that meant trying Sam’s patience. He only wanted to help, and he never—almost never—invaded her space or forced his help on her. He asked, and he respected her decisions.
Refusing just made it harder on both of them.
“All right.”
A wider grin transformed his face. Before, it had been pleading. Now, he was just happy. And rather than haul her to his back, he scooped her up, crutches and braces and all, and strode to the water’s edge. He let her down, bent, and untied one of her shoes. “Step up.” He didn’t look at her but remained in a squat, waiting.
She lifted her foot high enough that he was able to slip the shoe off. He unlocked the brace, loosened all the straps, and let it fall.
When she let her bare foot touch the sand she remembered the feel of it—gritty and warm from the hidden sun, almost silky and yet full of sensuous texture.
He started to work on her other foot before she realized it, and within seconds that shoe and brace were off as well. Sam stood. “Leave your crutches, too. Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” He gathered her in his arms, with the same clinical detachment he used as her runner, and carried her to the water.
Oh, it was cold, freezing, delicious and foamy and full of the scent of fish and salt.
She closed her eyes against the wind and immediately felt as though she were moving. The breeze rushed her body as did the waves. When the water changed direction, she had to open her eyes so as not to get dizzy.
Sam let go of her legs, and she set her feet on the sand, let the waves pull at them, pull them out from under her. He had such a tight grip on her that she knew she wouldn’t collapse, would never float away from him.
They played in the waves for half an hour before Sam turned her to look into her eyes. “You’re worn out. Let’s go back.”
She nodded and let him carry her up through the encroaching tide and across the expanse of sand.
He set her on a concrete wall and went back for her things. Before he slid the braces back on her legs, he dried her skin with the edge of his t-shirt and brushed away every speck of sand, both from her legs and the braces. Each time his fingers touched her, she shivered.
“Won’t be too long,” he said. “Pretty soon we’ll get you home where it’s warm.”
It was while he was putting her shoes back on, and tying the laces, that someone stopped next to them.
Robin looked up.
Donovan stood with his camera around his neck. He hadn’t seemed to notice Robin yet, but his expression as he looked down at Sam puzzled her.
“Donovan,” she said.
Sam straightened, though still on his knees in front of her, and looked at the other man.
Donovan gave Robin only half a glance before he focused again on Sam. “Been playing?”
“Yup. Isn’t that what the beach is for?”
Donovan’s lips pinched, but he didn’t answer. “I was getting some shots of the mainland from up there”—he pointed toward the top of the cliffs—”when I saw you down here. I wasn’t quite sure who you were, Sam. I thought maybe Robin was in trouble, so I wanted to make sure she was all
“That’s not my point. You’re already breathing hard. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything, Robin. It’ll be like I’m your runner. Just helping out where you need it.”
That was it? He just wanted to help, and she could accept it on the baseball field but not here? Robin bit her lip and stared at her crutches. She could remember back to when she didn’t have them, when people, usually her grandmother, carried her everywhere she needed to go. She hadn’t started taking steps until she was almost five, after her fourth or fifth surgery.
She could even remember back to when her mother carried her—here, to this island, to leave her once and for all, complaining about Robin’s weight and saying that she wasn’t even trying.
Robin had been trying ever since, but now, maybe that meant trying Sam’s patience. He only wanted to help, and he never—almost never—invaded her space or forced his help on her. He asked, and he respected her decisions.
Refusing just made it harder on both of them.
“All right.”
A wider grin transformed his face. Before, it had been pleading. Now, he was just happy. And rather than haul her to his back, he scooped her up, crutches and braces and all, and strode to the water’s edge. He let her down, bent, and untied one of her shoes. “Step up.” He didn’t look at her but remained in a squat, waiting.
She lifted her foot high enough that he was able to slip the shoe off. He unlocked the brace, loosened all the straps, and let it fall.
When she let her bare foot touch the sand she remembered the feel of it—gritty and warm from the hidden sun, almost silky and yet full of sensuous texture.
He started to work on her other foot before she realized it, and within seconds that shoe and brace were off as well. Sam stood. “Leave your crutches, too. Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” He gathered her in his arms, with the same clinical detachment he used as her runner, and carried her to the water.
Oh, it was cold, freezing, delicious and foamy and full of the scent of fish and salt.
She closed her eyes against the wind and immediately felt as though she were moving. The breeze rushed her body as did the waves. When the water changed direction, she had to open her eyes so as not to get dizzy.
Sam let go of her legs, and she set her feet on the sand, let the waves pull at them, pull them out from under her. He had such a tight grip on her that she knew she wouldn’t collapse, would never float away from him.
They played in the waves for half an hour before Sam turned her to look into her eyes. “You’re worn out. Let’s go back.”
She nodded and let him carry her up through the encroaching tide and across the expanse of sand.
He set her on a concrete wall and went back for her things. Before he slid the braces back on her legs, he dried her skin with the edge of his t-shirt and brushed away every speck of sand, both from her legs and the braces. Each time his fingers touched her, she shivered.
“Won’t be too long,” he said. “Pretty soon we’ll get you home where it’s warm.”
It was while he was putting her shoes back on, and tying the laces, that someone stopped next to them.
Robin looked up.
Donovan stood with his camera around his neck. He hadn’t seemed to notice Robin yet, but his expression as he looked down at Sam puzzled her.
“Donovan,” she said.
Sam straightened, though still on his knees in front of her, and looked at the other man.
Donovan gave Robin only half a glance before he focused again on Sam. “Been playing?”
“Yup. Isn’t that what the beach is for?”
Donovan’s lips pinched, but he didn’t answer. “I was getting some shots of the mainland from up there”—he pointed toward the top of the cliffs—”when I saw you down here. I wasn’t quite sure who you were, Sam. I thought maybe Robin was in trouble, so I wanted to make sure she was all
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