Nine
Felicity was relieved Olivia looked as well as she did. After getting a better sense of the space for the post–boot camp party tomorrow, they wandered in the well-established flower and herb gardens behind Olivia’s antique house—the one that had helped bring her and Dylan together. The gentle buzz of bumblebees hovering in catmint and lavender highlighted the quiet and stillness of the warm afternoon out here on the edge of the Quabbin wilderness. Even the birds seemed to be off for naps.
“Thank you for yesterday,” Olivia said, not for the first time.
“No problem.”
She pointed at a clear-glass pitcher on the table on the stone terrace. “I now keep water at hand at all times. Sorry if I scared you. I’m glad you were there, though.”
Felicity ran a palm over the tops of the lavender. “I’m glad I was, too.”
Olivia patted her middle, swelling under her deep-blue T-shirt. “I have a ways to go, but I’m more than halfway there. It’ll be cool weather when the baby comes. My mother is knitting a sweater and booties. I’d forgotten she knew how to knit.”
“Did you learn to knit?”
“I did, but it never took. I always liked the colors and patterns better than the knitting-and-purling. What about you?”
“My mother got into quilting for a while. I learned to knit on my own in college. Maybe I should find a knitting project this winter for quiet, cold nights out on the river.” Felicity smiled. “I wouldn’t count on me finishing booties before the baby outgrew them.”
“My mother’s waiting a few more weeks before she starts anything for Jess—she doesn’t want to jinx her.” Olivia paused, bending slightly to pinch faded yellow daisy blossoms. “Mom’s much better, but having two pregnant daughters has roiled the anxiety waters. She says she’ll be fine. She’s looking forward to being a grandmother.”
Felicity remembered when Olivia and Jess were in a car accident in high school. Trapped but not badly injured, they’d gone missing for several hours. Their mother had developed an anxiety disorder that had worsened over the years, until she could barely leave town. She’d finally sought therapy and now was off on trips with her husband, planning new ones. Everyone in town was thrilled for both of them.
“What about your dad?” Felicity asked.
“Can’t wait to be a grandfather. He and Dylan are making plans to paint the nursery.”
Felicity wasn’t surprised Dylan would want to paint his baby’s nursery himself, with his father-in-law’s help. His own father wasn’t around any longer, but she had a feeling he was with Dylan in spirit. As dramatic as the turns in their lives since meeting early last year, he and Olivia were grounded, tackling their new ventures a step at a time and—most important and very obvious—clearly as madly in love with each other as ever. Felicity breathed in the fragrance of the summer garden. She’d never been madly in love. Well, sort of with Gabe, but that had been teenage hormones. Maybe she wasn’t wired to fall head over heels in love.
Not exactly what she wanted to be thinking while listening to bumblebees and enjoying a pleasant walk with a friend, but to be expected with Gabe in town, camped out across the hall from her. Why couldn’t she have found him less physically appealing these days? But no. That hadn’t happened. Not even close.
She and Olivia continued on a mulched path toward the stone terrace by the kitchen door. An addition to the house was in the works and would serve as a suite for a live-in innkeeper yet to be hired. Olivia’s original, modest plans for her antique house had expanded without getting out of hand, at least as she’d explained to Felicity. With the promise of favorable weather, guests at Gabe’s post–boot camp party could meander out to the terrace and gardens. The logistics were simpler with the party being held here instead of at the barn, although Felicity could have managed at the barn. She’d managed far more complex events. She liked the contrast between the barn’s newness—even the grass looked new—and the Farm at Carriage Hill’s centuries-old house with its wide pine board flooring, multiple fireplaces off its center chimney and beautiful landscaping.
“Anything else you need ahead of tomorrow?” Olivia asked.
“All set, thanks.”
“You look so calm, cool and collected.”
Felicity laughed. “Do I? I feel more like the old saying about the duck who looks calm on the surface but is paddling like crazy under the water.”
“I can identify, except I doubt anyone’s ever said I look calm.”
They stepped onto the terrace, passing Buster sprawled in the shade, and went through a tidy mudroom to the big, country kitchen, located in one of the “newer” parts of the house. Felicity noticed sprigs of fresh basil on the butcher-block island. “Did I catch you in the middle of making something?” she asked Olivia.
“I had optimistic plans to make pesto. Now the thought of pesto...” She grimaced, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’ll throw some on some mozzarella and tomatoes with a little salt, pepper and olive oil. I have way more than I need. You like basil, don’t you? Take some with you.”
“I’d love to. I have a few chives in my kitchen window.”
“Gabe mentioned you’d snipped a few chives into his eggs this morning. I imagine he’s not your average houseguest. It’s decent of you to put him up for the weekend. Dylan invited him to speak at the last minute, but it’s not as if Knights Bridge is overflowing with hotels and inns.”
“He’s an easy guest,” Felicity said.
“Mark and Gabriel Flanagan aren’t what I’d call easy, but they’re great. Anyway, I love chives. Hence, they’re my logo for this place.”
Maggie Sloan burst into the kitchen through the front door, a brown paper bag on each hip and her two young sons, Aidan and Tyler, charging in behind her. “Not staying,” she said, hefting the bags onto the counter by the sink. “I’m dropping the boys off to swim in a friend’s pool. Why did my parents never worry when my sisters and I took off to the brook? Freezing-cold water, slippery rocks, slugs, leeches, spiders, ticks. Never occurred to them we’d be anything but fine.”
“And you were fine,” Olivia pointed out.
Maggie grinned. “Yes, we were. Even after Dad died and Mum started buying goats, we never were seriously hurt. The occasional cuts and bruises, but that’s to be expected. Which,” she added emphatically, “I will remind myself if Aidan and Tyler come back with Band-Aids on their knees. Cuts and scrapes I can handle. I don’t want broken bones, concussions—” She sighed. “I’ll stop now.”
Felicity helped Maggie unload the bags, an array of fresh vegetables they would use at tomorrow’s party. In her short time back in Knights Bridge, she’d discovered Maggie was far more organized in her work as a superb caterer than she was in her home life, but she seemed to thrive in the chaos.
Aidan and Tyler ran through the mudroom out to the terrace. Door banging, dog barking, boys yelling happily for no apparent reason.
“I’ll make them wash off the dog slobber before they get in the pool. I didn’t swim in a pool until I was in my teens at least,” Maggie said. She shut a cupboard and turned to Felicity. “Tomorrow’s going to be great. You’re not nervous, are you?”
“Just enough to keep me on my toes.”
“I’ll be here early if you need to find me.”
But she didn’t wait for an answer, instead heading out through the mudroom with such energy one of the empty bags blew off the counter. Olivia started to reach for it, but Felicity grabbed it, folded it and tucked it next to the refrigerator with a few other bags. “Are you going back up to the barn?” she asked.
“Not yet. Dylan’s meeting me here,” Olivia said.
Felicity glanced out the window above the sink and noticed Maggie and her sons heading through the side yard to her van. “I could use a dip in a cold brook right now myself.”
“Not me,” Olivia said with a smile. “I’d have to dash to the bathroom.”
They laughed, and Felicity took a moment to double-check Maggie’s groceries. Of course, everything was there, in order. As much as Felicity enjoyed the company of both women now, she hadn’t stayed in touch with Maggie or Olivia when they’d all been living and working in Boston. They’d run into each other on occasion when she visited Knights Bridge. Felicity remembered craving anonymity when she’d moved to the city, relishing a chance to do things without the intimacy of life in her small hometown.
She did like to think no one in Knights Bridge had a clue she’d slept with Gabe Flanagan the summer before college. It was their secret, and no matter what she did with the rest of her life, he would always and forever be her first lover.
She put that thought out of her mind and walked back up to the barn, past the sign for The Farm at Carriage Hill with its signature clump of blossoming chives, designed by Olivia herself. Her career change from full-time Boston graphic designer to innkeeper hadn’t been as radical as Felicity’s from financial analyst to event planner, but it hadn’t been without its drama, either. It had led, after all, to Dylan, his long-lost grandmother, marriage, a new home, new businesses—and, now, a baby on the way.
There was Buster, too, of course. The big dog had appeared on Olivia’s doorstep in the weeks before she’d written to Dylan in San Diego. She often joked he’d adopted her rather than the other way around.
Olivia also had dealt with the emotional and career fallout of a vampire friend who’d sucked her dry and stolen her job—something like that, anyway. Felicity had picked up bits and pieces of the story since her move to Knights Bridge but gathered the friend was now an ex-friend and no longer a factor in Olivia’s life. She was generous and trusting by nature, and the betrayal had obviously been difficult for her.
Felicity wondered if there was more behind Nadia Ainsworth’s trip to Knights Bridge and invitation to lunch than a desire to help Gabe and curiosity about her, the boot camp and his hometown itself. Whatever the case, Felicity would mention her when she spoke to Russ Colton about security tomorrow before the boot camp got rolling.
And Gabe?
Perfectly capable of watching his own back.
As she reached her Land Rover, she mentally went through everything that needed to be done before tomorrow’s party. Satisfied she had finished here, she got in her Rover and drove back out Carriage Hill Road and onto her quiet river road.
Gabe had left her a note on the kitchen counter.
Meet me at our old swimming hole. It’s hot. Time to cool off.
She let out a long, controlled breath.
Their swimming hole.
They’d tied a rope to a branch and nailed ladder rungs to the tree trunk to allow them to swing out from the steep bank and drop into the water without killing themselves. The rope had disappeared, and most of the rungs had been dismantled or rotted years ago.
But Gabe had been out to the Sloans’ for a rope...
And it was hot. Felicity decided she could use a break before she tackled her final checklist for tomorrow’s party.
Why not take a refreshing dip in the river?
* * *
Felicity changed into a swimsuit, added shorts and a T-shirt over it and slipped into flip-flops. Before she could change her mind, she set off on a path down through the trees toward the river. Gabe’s car, she’d noticed, wasn’t in the driveway. Either he hadn’t arrived yet or he’d parked farther down the road and taken a shortcut to the swimming hole. That meant she could either walk back on her own or ride back with him in her wet swimsuit.
She followed the path through trees, grass and ferns. She almost talked herself into turning back twice before she reached the quiet, deep spot where she, Mark, Gabe and other kids had leaped into the river.
Mostly she and Gabe.
She spotted him by an oak tree that clung to the steep riverbank, and for a moment, he might have been the teenager she remembered, playful, dreaming of all he’d do in life, making plans so he wouldn’t end up “stuck” in Knights Bridge. He was more muscular now, all man with no hint of boy as he tied the fresh, new rope to a branch of the oak that reached out above the water.
He tugged on the rope. “It should hold.” He grinned at her. “Want to go first?”
“No way.”
“Why not? What could go wrong?”
“The rope could come loose, and I could end up dropping onto the rocks instead of into the water.”
He peered down the bank and shook his head. “There aren’t any rocks you need to worry about. You might hit shallow water, but it’s unlikely you’d get hurt. You’d compensate and fling yourself out to deeper water.”
She shook her head. “You first.”
“We could take the rope down to the edge of the river, but it wouldn’t be as much fun as swinging from up here.” He frowned at her. “You’re swimming in your shorts?”
“I have a suit on underneath.”
“Ah.” He hooked the rope onto a chunk of one of the old rungs they’d nailed into the tree years ago. “I didn’t pack swimming trunks. Shorts will have to do.”
Felicity made no comment. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the grass at the base of the tree trunk. She averted her eyes from his bare chest, the taut, developed muscles a reminder they weren’t kids anymore. They could relive the past with a quick dip in the river, but they hadn’t gone back in time.
He kicked off his sandals and grabbed the rope. He’d tied a knot at the lower end to provide footing. He gave the rope a tug, seemed unsurprised when it held and hopped up, swinging out over the steep bank and silvery water. He shouted woo-hoo and plunged into the deep pool.
He shot up instantly, swearing. “Holy hell, the water’s colder than I remember.”
Felicity laughed, catching the rope as it swung back toward her. “You’re used to heated pools.”
“Damn right.” He gave his head a toss, flicking river water off his hair, and swam to a boulder a few yards below her. He hopped up onto it and sat, stretching out his legs on the sun-warmed rock. “Feels good on a hot day, though.” He pointed up at her. “Your turn.”
She peeled off her shorts and T-shirt and tossed them onto the ground next to his shirt. She adjusted her swimsuit, hoping it wouldn’t hike up or tug loose and expose more than she wanted to as she was swinging on the rope—something she never used to consider.
She tugged on the rope, making sure it was still secure after Gabe had used it. It held firm.
“Use your muscle memory,” he said from below her on his boulder. “You’ve done this before.”
Many times, she thought. She shut her eyes, concentrating on the still, hot air, the faint coolness rising up from the water below her, the sounds of the river coursing downstream, the chattering of a red squirrel in the trees. She could feel the roughness and newness of the rope. She remembered hanging on too long as a teenager and getting rope burn. Gabe hadn’t sympathized. “Let go sooner next time. Lesson learned, Felicity.”
She wouldn’t screw up or chicken out now, with him watching her.
She opened her eyes, pulled herself up onto the rope, one foot on the knot as she swung out over the water and dropped before she naturally swung back, pendulum-like, to the bank. She tucked up her knees and cannonballed into the river, plunging underwater. She’d had fair warning it was cold, and it was. At the same time it felt good, and she resisted shooting to the surface. She swam a few yards underwater, toward Gabe’s rock, and then came up, taking in the warm, humid air.
Gabe swam next to her. The water probably wasn’t over their heads here, but she didn’t want to touch the bottom and disturb mud and debris and risk stubbing a toe on a rock. “The water feels fine now,” he said. “Either that or I have hypothermia and can’t tell the difference.”
“Too soon for hypothermia.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a forever New Englander.”
She smiled. “Don’t you forget it.”
They swam to the boulder and climbed onto it together, sitting next to each other, dripping as they watched the river. Felicity pointed to mallards clustered by rocks on the opposite shore. “I wonder if they’re related to the ducks from last time I was out here,” he said.
“When was that?”
“Summer after my sophomore year at UMass.”
“I remember.”
“We went to a Red Sox game that summer. We sat in the bleachers.”
“That was the next summer.”
He leaned back on his elbows and stuck his feet in the water. “Was it?”
She nodded. “We drove together. I worked at my dad’s office that summer.”
“Oh, right. I picked you up after work. You were wearing eyeshades like Bob Cratchit.”
“I was not,” she said, grinning at him. “We drove straight to Fenway. You drove, actually. I don’t know why you didn’t get a speeding ticket. Pure luck.”
“I didn’t go that fast.”
“You were mad at Mark and we were running late.”
“What was I mad at Mark about?”
“Something to do with your father.”
He splashed water with one foot. “Right. Take your pick. Mark steered clear of his charming dysfunctions sooner than I did.”
“You both have done well. Your mom and dad did something right.”
“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, he reached down, took her hand and all but hoisted her up next to him. “Should I have gone slower?” he asked. “Given you more time?”
“I had plenty of time.”
“And?”
“I think you should kiss me and get it out of your system. Then we can go back to my place and check for ticks. Nothing to do with your kiss, of course. Just summer.”
“The thought of ticks could ruin the moment, but that was your point.” He smiled. “And the operative word is could.”
Felicity found herself leaning against the oak, feeling grass, dirt and small rocks under her bare feet, aware of the outline of her body—breasts, hips—under her wet swimsuit. It might not be a sleek bikini but she wasn’t hidden under jeans and a sweatshirt, either. “Okay,” she said. “Go for it. Kiss me.”
“Is that supposed to deter me?”
“Does it?”
“No.” He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and lowered his mouth to hers. “Not even close,” he said, touching his lips to hers. She thought he would back off immediately, but he didn’t. He let it be a real kiss, as if he’d been thinking about it for a while. Then he stood straight and sighed. “That was good. You’re a little out of practice. You should let guys kiss you more often.”
“If I could throw you in the river, I would.”
“Should I expect a sneak attack?”
“It wouldn’t be a sneak attack if you expected it, would it? No. You should expect never to kiss me again.”
“But you liked it?”
“Consider us even for three years ago. A bed, brownies, a kiss. We’re good.” She brushed off something small and brown crawling on his shoulder. “That, my dear Gabe, was a tick. Let’s go.”
“It was a spider but we’ll go.”
“My brother once got a tick on an unfortunate part of his anatomy—”
“Let’s go, Felicity.”
“Are you going back to my place?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Great.” She grinned at him. “I have a hand mirror for de-ticking.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, if I find a tick on my privates, you’ll be the last to know.”
“Not me. I find one, I’m screaming. You don’t have to rescue me, but you’ll know.”
He adjusted her swimsuit strap, pulling it back onto her shoulder. “This was fun,” he said. “It was like being kids again. Thanks for joining me.”
“A trip down memory lane.”
Again that look in his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”
* * *
They came to their senses by the time they returned to her house, Felicity by way of the path, Gabe in his car, giving them a few minutes to cool down. She slipped her shorts and T-shirt on over her swimsuit. He put his shirt back on. That helped with her distractibility. Once inside, they retreated to their rooms to change into dry clothes.
Their teenage souls had crept into the present and dragged them back to the past.
Without any warning, Felicity felt the touch of Gabe’s lips on hers as if he was kissing her now. She bit down on her lower lip, hoping to dispel the feeling. It didn’t work.
She’d wanted more to their kiss.
“To be expected,” she whispered to herself.
Seriously, she thought. She’d put all her resources into her work and her move to Knights Bridge—buying this place, moving in, getting settled. She’d neglected any semblance of a romantic life.
“Sex,” she said under her breath. “You haven’t had sex in...forever.”
Gabe had been her first lover. Her best friend. All that history was bound to bubble up now that he was camped out across the hall. That he was comfortable with himself—comfortable in his own skin—only made her more aware of how much he’d once meant to her.
She picked up her swimsuit and laid it across the edge of the tub to dry. Just as well it was cold and damp. She’d let it snap her out of her haze of arousal or whatever it was. She wanted to slip into boxer shorts and a T-shirt and crawl onto the sofa and read a book she’d picked up on color schemes. She didn’t know if it’d help her in her work, but it couldn’t hurt—and it was perfect for reading with Gabriel Flanagan in the house. Interesting but not taxing, and easily reread if her mind wandered.
And it would. No point reasoning with herself, overthinking, rationalizing or otherwise driving herself nuts. Let it be. Two adults with a past jumping into a river on a hot day could get in over their heads in more ways than one, but they’d caught themselves before they’d ended up in the grass.
“Imagine the ticks,” she said with a laugh, sitting at her desk with her laptop.
“We’re invited to dinner at Mark and Jess’s place,” Gabe said, matter-of-fact, as he walked into the room.
“We?”
“Uh-huh. Mark says Jess is up to it. Check for those ticks and be ready at six.”