28. Now
28
NOW
At the end of Loch Coruisk, they came to a pool of water, sheltered like a crater. On one side of the oval loch, a hard slab of rock rose steeply from the water, covered in lime-green lichen. The beach, if Brooke could call it that, was tumbled stones the size of her fist. A massive boulder bracketed the other side of the pool, and the last side opened to the sea.
The water was as turquoise as the Maldives, but she was sure the temperature would disabuse her of that notion in a millisecond. Even so, the water called to her.
Nat and Cat came around the ledge, Jack on their heels. “Stay there,” Jack called, jogging down to the beach.
He pointed his camera at the three women and Cat looped her arms around Brooke and Nat, yelling, “?Queso!” in Brooke’s ear.
Jack pulled the camera away from his eye to look at the preview. He frowned at what he saw and dropped into a crouch like the lighting was wrong, bringing a hand up to block the direct light.
Cat pulled at the corners of her mouth with her pinkie fin gers and Nat stuck her tongue out. With a laugh, Brooke went cross-eyed for the picture.
“Stunners, the lot of you,” Jack said. Brooke squeezed Cat as they laughed and the shutter snapped again. “That’s what I was looking for.”
They found a place to drop their packs, everyone ready for lunch. As they ate and lounged in the sun, Jack made a vlog for Mhairi and Brooke chatted with Nat about the proper way to shear a llama.
From down on the beach, Jack asked, “Who wants to go swimming?”
Cat responded with a swift “Absolutely not,” and Nat crinkled her nose.
“What about you?” he asked Brooke, and she was about to decline, citing the hassle of wet underclothes, not to mention the temperature of the water, until she met Jack’s gaze. It held that quiet challenge that her heart always responded to. That call to adventure she’d never been able to resist.
She crumpled up her trash from lunch and made her way to the rocky beach.
Jack grinned and reached behind his head. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and slowly tugged it up and off, revealing the waves of the muscles along his ribs, the curve of his pecs, the deep divots around his collarbone. His tongue touched the corner of his mouth and she nearly expired on the spot.
She’d caught glimpses of him on the trail, tugging off a top layer and revealing a sliver of his stomach, lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. But she hadn’t seen him bared to her like this since back then. He’d filled out, his shoulders broader, his chest wider, the dip between his pecs more pronounced.
He’d been irresistible to her back then, and time hadn’t diminished that pull, that need coursing through her to touch him, to feel him against her.
Humor danced in his eyes when she met them and she cleared her throat as if that would disguise her blatant perusal and her shaky breathing. “As long as you don’t get hypothermia on me,” he said.
She grinned at the reminder of that first time they’d gone to Portobello. “I kept swimming actually.” Kept searching for that feeling she used to get from being with Jack.
“Really? I thought I scarred you.”
“No. You made me feel alive.” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it was the truth. Jack always pushed her to reach further, showed her how to be free.
She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the rocks. She thought about being self-conscious of her trusty sports bra for one single second before his eyes met hers and what she saw there heated every inch of her body.
Dropping to one knee, she unlaced one boot and then the other before unbuttoning her hiking pants and slipping them off her hips, hyperaware of Jack’s attention on her like a caress.
“Let’s do this, then,” Jack said, his voice rough, and they waded into the turquoise water. She sucked in a breath as the frigid chill stole through her and heard Jack’s gasp next to her.
Brooke sank under the water, holding her breath as her veins seemed to fill with a heavy cold, and brought her hands up over her face and hair as she broke the surface.
Jack growled low and deep before turning and floating on his back, his toes, thighs, chest, and face breaking the surface. Brooke tore her gaze away, breathed out, and floated, too, letting the water hold her up.
Something grabbed her ankle, tugging her down below the surface. She sucked in a breath before she was dragged under, kicking wildly to free herself. She came up spluttering, blinking water out of her eyes, her heart racing, her skin crawling, and curled her legs up to her chest, away from whatever had touched her.
As she scanned the water, she noticed Jack, his hands held up in front of him. “It was the Kelpie!” he said, the mythical water horse who dragged people to the depths of this loch.
Brooke narrowed her eyes, charging him with a splash, and he yelped, but she was faster and more determined. She launched herself at him and tried to push his head underwater, but he held her in the air, arms banded tight around her waist. She pushed against the hard muscles of his shoulders and squirmed in his grip but he held fast.
“A Kelpie wouldn’t let go so easily,” he said. The words sounded light and teasing, but his tone wasn’t. She stopped resisting and he brought her lower so her face was level with his. “Not this time.” She risked looking into his eyes and they were dark as the bottom of the loch.
She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that assurance that if she was brave enough, if she could trust him again, that he’d be there. She’d walked away before, and it hadn’t been right, but he’d let her go.
The warmth of his chest against her stomach made her ache. Made her want more. She wrapped her legs around him and his lips formed an O on a heavy breath. Her stomach hitched and she spread her fingers out, pressing her palms into the taut curve of his shoulders.
“Come on, you two. The rain’s coming in,” Cat called.
Brooke dropped out of Jack’s hold and he released her, but his gaze didn’t. Like this wasn’t over at all.