Chapter 8 #3
His fingers move along the edge of the dock until they’re touching mine. Even in that tiny point of contact, I feel something sizzle and come alive inside of me.
I suck in a breath, not knowing what to do next. This sweet, funny, handsome stranger is Cara Lancolm’s brother.
I start to pull my hand away, but suddenly, he clasps onto it with his own, startling me. “Nikki, wait.”
“I—”
“We’ve got to do the handshake.” He grins, a little sheepish, letting go of my hand. “To make it official.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, blinking. “Handshake?”
“From The Parent Trap?” he says, faux serious, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Ah, right,” I stutter. “Sadly, I, um, don’t remember it.”
“I do.” Nate stands up, then reaches down to help me up.
“Okay…” Once I’m standing, I can feel just how much tequila I’ve consumed. My legs are wobbly, and not just from the gentle motion of the dock beneath our feet.
“It goes a little something like…” Nate does a full body roll that is absolutely not part of the handshake from The Parent Trap, and I start cracking up so hard, I stumble backward and almost step off the edge of the dock. “Careful there,” Nate says, steadying me.
“Okay, let me try it,” I say, still laughing a bit as I try to mimic the body roll thing, but the tequila and wake from a passing pontoon boat throw off my balance, and I wobble again.
I start to wave my arms, and my laughter takes on a hysterical pitch as Nate starts laughing too.
He tries to grab for me, but somehow, I pull us both toward the ladder where I left the remote lighter…
And that’s when my heel comes down… on the remote lighter.
“Oh shit,” I say, swiveling in a panic as the line of fuses fizz into life.
“‘Oh shit,’ what?” Nate asks. “‘Oh shit,’ what, Nikki!?” His voice rises. The hiss of the fuses grows louder as more are lit.
“Oh sh—” But before I can finish my sentence, a strong bicep loops around my stomach—and my feet are off the dock.
For a moment, I’m totally air-bound, then a rush of water closes over my head, ruining all my efforts to keep my blowout intact.
Sputtering, I come to the surface, wiping the hair out of my face as Nate drags me away from the dock in a lifeguard carry. “What the hell?” I manage to squeak out right as the first firework goes off. There’s a boom and then a high-pitched squeal as the first firework zings skyward.
“Are you okay?” he asks, spinning me around to face him. His hands come to either side of my face, and his eyes dart back and forth scanning to make sure I’m alright.
“I’m fine!” We’re both treading water now, and my legs keep brushing against his.
His hands soften on either side of my face, but he doesn’t remove them. “You can’t say ‘oh shit’ right after you’ve lit an explosive device and not tell me why!”
“It’s not that dangerous. I just wasn’t ready.”
“Sorry,” he says, looking into my eyes. “I guess I sort of have a protective streak. And you’re way too pretty to get your whole face blown off.”
I laugh quietly. “I’m back to thinking you really don’t know anything about fireworks.”
With the back of his fingers, he traces the side of my face, sending shivers through my whole body. “I know a beautiful face when I see one though,” he says quietly—so quiet it’s almost a whisper.
I look at him, the droplets of water clinging to his hair and the light stubble along his jawline. Fireworks continue to explode over our heads in arcs of silver and gold. His fingers trace my lips, and I hitch a breath, parting them slightly at his touch.
“Nikki, I…” I notice him clench his jaw again, that subtle twitch when he’s looking at me like this…
“Shh,” I tell him, and close the gap between us.
It’s like I’m possessed by a force outside of myself, like the whole lake has conspired to bring our bodies together, our lips together.
One of his hands leaves my face and reaches behind my knee, pulling me even closer to him.
I let out a gasp at the contact, and his tongue slips between my open lips to brush against mine.
Then, just as quickly, it retreats to trace my bottom lip.
Whatever goofiness he projects in his day-to-day life, he’s completely serious as he kisses me.
I wrap my arms around him, and somehow my other leg has wrapped around him too. He’s the only thing keeping me afloat. His lips are hot and sure, and our bodies move against each other under the water, and I haven’t had a kiss this good in… maybe forever.
He pulls back, his breathing ragged, and mine is too.
For a moment we just look at each other, both taking in the gravity of what’s just happened. Worry starts to creep up my spine, and then his dimples appear. “Pretty solid handshake, huh?”
That same light feeling I had earlier today at the farmstand returns, sweeping away any budding anxiety, and I give myself over to all of it—the sparkling reflections on the water, the lighthearted chemistry between us, the feeling of his hands on my skin.
The wild sensation that my old list of reasons to risk catching feelings again has just gone up in a burst of flames.
I throw my head back and laugh as another firework explodes above us.