boathouse and his eyes landed directly on her, too—and stuck.
Of course, he could be looking at the whole group of them, or Mr. Allen’s shiny car—but no, she felt it. His gaze. On her. Dark. Delicious. And oh so new and exciting.
“Why don’t you bring the family along, Harold?” she vaguely heard Mr. Allen suggest. “The fishing creek runs right behind my house, and my wife would love the company.”
After a few oh-no-we-couldn’t-impose type statements, her father finally asked, “What do you say, girls? Want to come along?”
Millie bit her lip, felt her heart hammering beneath her aching breasts, and turned toward her father, driven to boldness for the first time in her life. “Not that I wouldn’t love to meet Mr. Allen’s wife, but…couldn’t Betsy and I stay here and go canoeing? The views here are so spectacular—I need to see more.”
Chapter Three
M illie strode around the lake’s edge toward the boathouse, Betsy trudging behind. “Why do we have to go canoeing anyway? We don’t even know how to canoe. What if we fall in and drown?”
Determined and resolute, Millie kept her answer simple. “Life isn’t worth living if you don’t occasionally experience something new.” Like coming face-to-face with a guy who makes your body race with excitement. She was afraid, of course—since there was a reason she was supposed to stay away from boys like this one—but she had to do it. She simply had to. So she kept walking, not letting herself slow down even as she drew nearer and he came more clearly into view—because if she slowed down, she might stop. And for once in her life, she had to go barreling full steam ahead, come what may.
As they neared the boathouse, she could hear Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers singing “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” on a transistor radio propped against the building. The sun beat down, almost hot now, and she began to sweat. She was hardly in love, but she was definitely in…something.
She and Betsy ventured out onto the dock, but herdangerous boy was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, that made her heart beat even harder.
That’s when she felt someone’s eyes on her—definitely not Betsy’s—and turned to find him . He leaned comfortably against the doorway of the boathouse, his muscular arms crossed. His hair was combed back into a ducktail, with one wayward lock dipping across his forehead, somehow making him look even more devil-may-care. And his warm green eyes…swallowed her. “What can I do for you?” he asked, smooth and deep.
Her heart pounded and she feared her nipples might show through her bra and blouse. “I… we —want to go canoeing,” she managed. Then held out the money her father had given her for the excursion.
His gaze flicked to Betsy, and Millie almost got the impression it was the first time he’d noticed she wasn’t alone.
His eyes returned to her just as quickly, though—even if they drifted down a bit, seeming to peruse her body. It should have horrified her, but it didn’t. Instead it only increased the tingling sensation skittering through her underwear. He raised his gaze back up to say, “You ever done this before?”
She swallowed, hard. Get hot and bothered? Or get in a canoe? The answer to both was the same. “No,” she managed.
When their eyes met once more, his look almost made her think he could read her thoughts. Then he motioned to a bin filled with orange life jackets. “Well, you’ll need those. And a few instructions.”
Millie tore her gaze away and padded uneasily past him to select a life vest, Betsy following suit. As she tried to concentrate on getting the belts fastened, then tightened—challenging since she was suddenly so nervous—he explained how to guide the canoe.
And then he was passing an oar into her hand and—ohmy, moving behind her, reaching around her from either side to show her how to hold it. She could barely breathe he was so close, his arms touching hers, and
Of course, he could be looking at the whole group of them, or Mr. Allen’s shiny car—but no, she felt it. His gaze. On her. Dark. Delicious. And oh so new and exciting.
“Why don’t you bring the family along, Harold?” she vaguely heard Mr. Allen suggest. “The fishing creek runs right behind my house, and my wife would love the company.”
After a few oh-no-we-couldn’t-impose type statements, her father finally asked, “What do you say, girls? Want to come along?”
Millie bit her lip, felt her heart hammering beneath her aching breasts, and turned toward her father, driven to boldness for the first time in her life. “Not that I wouldn’t love to meet Mr. Allen’s wife, but…couldn’t Betsy and I stay here and go canoeing? The views here are so spectacular—I need to see more.”
Chapter Three
M illie strode around the lake’s edge toward the boathouse, Betsy trudging behind. “Why do we have to go canoeing anyway? We don’t even know how to canoe. What if we fall in and drown?”
Determined and resolute, Millie kept her answer simple. “Life isn’t worth living if you don’t occasionally experience something new.” Like coming face-to-face with a guy who makes your body race with excitement. She was afraid, of course—since there was a reason she was supposed to stay away from boys like this one—but she had to do it. She simply had to. So she kept walking, not letting herself slow down even as she drew nearer and he came more clearly into view—because if she slowed down, she might stop. And for once in her life, she had to go barreling full steam ahead, come what may.
As they neared the boathouse, she could hear Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers singing “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” on a transistor radio propped against the building. The sun beat down, almost hot now, and she began to sweat. She was hardly in love, but she was definitely in…something.
She and Betsy ventured out onto the dock, but herdangerous boy was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, that made her heart beat even harder.
That’s when she felt someone’s eyes on her—definitely not Betsy’s—and turned to find him . He leaned comfortably against the doorway of the boathouse, his muscular arms crossed. His hair was combed back into a ducktail, with one wayward lock dipping across his forehead, somehow making him look even more devil-may-care. And his warm green eyes…swallowed her. “What can I do for you?” he asked, smooth and deep.
Her heart pounded and she feared her nipples might show through her bra and blouse. “I… we —want to go canoeing,” she managed. Then held out the money her father had given her for the excursion.
His gaze flicked to Betsy, and Millie almost got the impression it was the first time he’d noticed she wasn’t alone.
His eyes returned to her just as quickly, though—even if they drifted down a bit, seeming to peruse her body. It should have horrified her, but it didn’t. Instead it only increased the tingling sensation skittering through her underwear. He raised his gaze back up to say, “You ever done this before?”
She swallowed, hard. Get hot and bothered? Or get in a canoe? The answer to both was the same. “No,” she managed.
When their eyes met once more, his look almost made her think he could read her thoughts. Then he motioned to a bin filled with orange life jackets. “Well, you’ll need those. And a few instructions.”
Millie tore her gaze away and padded uneasily past him to select a life vest, Betsy following suit. As she tried to concentrate on getting the belts fastened, then tightened—challenging since she was suddenly so nervous—he explained how to guide the canoe.
And then he was passing an oar into her hand and—ohmy, moving behind her, reaching around her from either side to show her how to hold it. She could barely breathe he was so close, his arms touching hers, and
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