wondered if there was someone in the heavens above her, someone who watched her and Dylan the same way she watched the fish. If so, what did they think of her? Of all the people struggling to survive in this damaged world.
When she looked back toward the shore, Wyatt was standing in the center of the mud, watching her. She waved, but he didn’t wave back.
“Be like that,” she whispered as she began another long, luxurious stroke across the lake’s surface.
She walked out of the water, resigned to his determination to move on. Wyatt tossed her clothing at her, turning his head away as he did.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Refuse to look at me? It’s not like you didn’t see me naked the first time we met.”
“Men aren’t supposed to look at naked women.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer. Dylan was tired of him ignoring her. She yanked on her clothes, the pants and shirt, as he had told her they were called. When he said it, she recalled reading these words in a book. She felt dumb for not putting it together before. The memory of it only fueled her anger.
And then she stomped up to him.
“I don’t like it when you do that.”
He turned and looked at her, surprise clear in his eyes. “Do what?”
“Refuse to answer my questions. It’s not my fault where I come from. It’s not my fault they didn’t teach me the same things you know.”
“I know that,” he said quietly.
“Then why do you keep refusing to answer my questions?”
“Some questions are hard to answer,” he said, stepping back slightly as color rushed into the skin on his face.
“What’s so hard about it?”
He stepped back again. “Relationships between men and women,” he said, gesturing between them. “They’re complicated.”
“Why?”
He groaned. “They just are.”
She stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his chest. He had pulled on his pants, but his chest was still bare. The feel of skin on skin was almost as pleasurable as jumping into a cool lake on a hot day. But what puzzled her was the pounding of his heart under her hand. She could feel it, could feel how quickly it pulsed even as her own heart picked up its pace and seemed to match it beat for beat.
Wyatt lay his hand over hers, smoothing his rough fingers along the tender skin on the back of her hand. And then he stepped into her, closing the foot wide gap between them until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.
She looked up, saw his intention in his eyes as much as she saw it in her mind as the image jumped from his head to hers. He bent near to her, his eyes slowly closing as the tip of his tongue moved slowly along the angle of his bottom lip. She rolled her head back on her spine, her lips softening to welcome him.
And then there was a huge crash behind them.
“Oh, thank goodness!” a voice cried out.
Chapter 19
He was tall. That was the first thing Dylan noticed about him. Taller than Wyatt, but only by a few inches. But that was the only thing about the two of them that seemed similar. Where Wyatt’s skin was bronze, this new man’s was pale, a sickly white. And his hair was like fire, a bright red that seemed unnatural in the bright sunlight, only serving to make his skin seem that much more pale. His eyes were gray, a soft gray that seemed to absorb the light and glow with a power of its own. Not unattractive. In fact, he had a certain allure that made Dylan look twice.
Wyatt moved around Dylan and stood with her squarely behind him, his hand lying on the butt of the weapon—a six shooter, he had told her—he wore at his waist.
“Who are you?”
The other man held up his hands, palms out to show he had no weapons. “Stiles,” he said. “I come from a city to the east of here.”
“What are you doing out here?”
He shook his head, a sadness coming into his eyes. “There was a fire at our city. There’s nothing left.”
Dylan touched Wyatt’s arm as she slowly moved around him.
When she looked back toward the shore, Wyatt was standing in the center of the mud, watching her. She waved, but he didn’t wave back.
“Be like that,” she whispered as she began another long, luxurious stroke across the lake’s surface.
She walked out of the water, resigned to his determination to move on. Wyatt tossed her clothing at her, turning his head away as he did.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Refuse to look at me? It’s not like you didn’t see me naked the first time we met.”
“Men aren’t supposed to look at naked women.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer. Dylan was tired of him ignoring her. She yanked on her clothes, the pants and shirt, as he had told her they were called. When he said it, she recalled reading these words in a book. She felt dumb for not putting it together before. The memory of it only fueled her anger.
And then she stomped up to him.
“I don’t like it when you do that.”
He turned and looked at her, surprise clear in his eyes. “Do what?”
“Refuse to answer my questions. It’s not my fault where I come from. It’s not my fault they didn’t teach me the same things you know.”
“I know that,” he said quietly.
“Then why do you keep refusing to answer my questions?”
“Some questions are hard to answer,” he said, stepping back slightly as color rushed into the skin on his face.
“What’s so hard about it?”
He stepped back again. “Relationships between men and women,” he said, gesturing between them. “They’re complicated.”
“Why?”
He groaned. “They just are.”
She stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his chest. He had pulled on his pants, but his chest was still bare. The feel of skin on skin was almost as pleasurable as jumping into a cool lake on a hot day. But what puzzled her was the pounding of his heart under her hand. She could feel it, could feel how quickly it pulsed even as her own heart picked up its pace and seemed to match it beat for beat.
Wyatt lay his hand over hers, smoothing his rough fingers along the tender skin on the back of her hand. And then he stepped into her, closing the foot wide gap between them until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.
She looked up, saw his intention in his eyes as much as she saw it in her mind as the image jumped from his head to hers. He bent near to her, his eyes slowly closing as the tip of his tongue moved slowly along the angle of his bottom lip. She rolled her head back on her spine, her lips softening to welcome him.
And then there was a huge crash behind them.
“Oh, thank goodness!” a voice cried out.
Chapter 19
He was tall. That was the first thing Dylan noticed about him. Taller than Wyatt, but only by a few inches. But that was the only thing about the two of them that seemed similar. Where Wyatt’s skin was bronze, this new man’s was pale, a sickly white. And his hair was like fire, a bright red that seemed unnatural in the bright sunlight, only serving to make his skin seem that much more pale. His eyes were gray, a soft gray that seemed to absorb the light and glow with a power of its own. Not unattractive. In fact, he had a certain allure that made Dylan look twice.
Wyatt moved around Dylan and stood with her squarely behind him, his hand lying on the butt of the weapon—a six shooter, he had told her—he wore at his waist.
“Who are you?”
The other man held up his hands, palms out to show he had no weapons. “Stiles,” he said. “I come from a city to the east of here.”
“What are you doing out here?”
He shook his head, a sadness coming into his eyes. “There was a fire at our city. There’s nothing left.”
Dylan touched Wyatt’s arm as she slowly moved around him.
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