Chapter 18 #2
Grant loved to play in the water as much as she did, something that caused a small pang.
It was such a small thing, not something to base a relationship on or that would indicate future happiness—though, of course, she wasn’t thinking of having a relationship with Grant!
Still, Lyle had only tolerated the beach—and lake water—for her and Lauren’s sake.
And “tolerate” really was the most that could be said for his interest there.
As Lauren got older and was away more and more, Madeline found herself at the beach alone a lot, which was lovely too, but this . . . it was exquisite fun.
Banish those thoughts, she chided herself. Grant is not Lyle. Lyle is not Grant. Stop comparing them. Just enjoy the qualities Grant has and stop feeling guilty for liking things about him that are different from Lyle.
The lecture worked—or the sheer, consuming gorgeousness of the warm golden water did. Either way, she was caught up in the moment from there on out.
She and Grant frolicked like otters, the sandy lake bottom soft as silk beneath their feet.
There were other people in the water, but so far away, it was like Madeline and Grant were alone.
They had an “alligator” race, did dolphin dives, and Madeline wowed Grant with her ability to do continuous back rolls.
At one point, Madeline was reminded of the disgusting-but-hilarious feeling of having a handful of lake bottom dumped on her head.
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieked, dunking repeatedly and “shampooing” her hair to get the grains of silt out of it. “I’m going to get revenge!”
“Oh, I’m really scared,” Grant taunted back, and she was happy to see she wasn’t the only one who had an alive-and-well inner eight-year-old.
A few minutes later, when Grant was looking off into the distance, a dreamy expression on his face, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, Madeline dragged a lake weed over his shoulder and down his back.
He shrieked and batted at his shoulder like the mother of all spiders or a humongous leach was attacking.
Madeline laughed so hard her stomach hurt—and was thus unable to escape another dunking, this time at Grant’s hands—but he went down with her, his body wet and slippery against hers.
And just like that, their inner children were banished, and more mature appetites perked up.
His fingers grazed hers, and for a moment, they hovered like that, so close to holding hands, but not .
. . Just as they found their footing and stood once more, Madeline shoved Grant hard.
He fell backward into the water with a big splash, laughing.
There were still hours of light left, though the sun was slowly lowering itself toward the distant mountains, when Grant finally huffed—happy and tired-sounding—“Okay, Mermaid. I think that’s it for me for the day.”
Madeline, who’d just shivered with the tiniest chill for the first time since getting into the water, nodded happily and waded back to shore with him.
On the beach, the sparse crowd had thinned even further.
If the next small group was closer than three hundred feet, Madeline would’ve been surprised.
After enjoying the sheer luxury of space Greenridge and the surrounding area offered, would she ever be able to return to suburban living? She hoped she never had to find out.
“Hungry?” she asked, wrapping a towel around her waist.
“Starving,” Grant said, but his eyes stayed on her towel-wrapping movements and didn’t stray in the direction of the basket.
“Man, you do succeed at making me feel young,” Madeline admitted.
Grant’s voice was serious. “We are young.”
“Okaaaay, right,” Madeline said, but not too, too sarcastically.
Young, old, it was all relative. She fetched the basket, and remembering everything she’d packed, she was suddenly ravenous.
Her stomach growled audibly, and Grant looked like he was about to tease her, but he got distracted as she started pulling out containers.
They feasted on an assortment of cheeses, fresh cucumbers and tomatoes from the local farmer’s market, cold fried chicken, and a blue cheese and bacon potato salad, which Madeline had been unsure about at first. Now she knew it would be one of her go-to summer recipes.
For dessert, Madeline offered up sliced watermelon and the fattest, juiciest blackberries she’d ever seen, which Gwen had dropped off for her.
When they were finished eating, Grant collapsed on his back on the blanket, patting his non-existent belly. “If this is the kind of treatment it’ll get me, you can kidnap me anytime, Mermaid.”
Madeline laughed at his repeated use of the silly but cute nickname. “More drowned rat than mermaid, I’m afraid.”
“No.” Grant pushed the basket, freshly reloaded with their empty containers, off the blanket. Then he reached up and tugged a strand of Madeline’s now bedraggled and stringy-as-seaweed hair. “Definitely, mermaid. I haven’t had that much fun in the water since I was a kid.”
“Me, neither,” Madeline said, but then was assailed by memories—and for once, they didn’t make her sad. “Or not since I had my own kid, I mean. Lauren loved lakes too. And ocean. Any and all water, actually.”
“Fun,” Grant said softly.
“The funnest,” Madeline agreed.
Around them, the trees started to sway gently in a cool breeze that kicked up from the lake.
Madeline noticed small whitecaps forming on the water just as she realized she had goosebumps on her arms and legs.
She felt Grant shiver beside her. The sun would be going down soon, and it filled her with indefinable longing.
She wanted to watch the sunset. She didn’t want their day to end. She . . . she didn’t know what exactly.
“Cold?” she asked.
“Not too bad,” he said, but she saw gooseflesh rising on his skin too.
Staring up at the sky, which was turning a dusky mauve above the deep emerald canopy, she exhaled resignedly.
“No,” Grant said as if reading her thoughts. “Let’s stay. A little chill won’t kill us.”
“We could put on our clothes, at least.”
“We could, yes—but that’s not as much fun.”
Madeline shook her head, hiding a smile, though deep down, she totally agreed. Then she got an idea. “Quick, sit up.”
Grant complied, eyes curious, and Madeline scooted her butt up to the quilt’s top edge and patted the spot right beside her.
When Grant moved, she reached for the bottom of the quilt and folded it up over their legs.
Then, leaning over him, she tucked his side of the blanket under his thigh and did the same on her side.
They were suddenly sitting very close together, and despite being sure Grant felt just as cold as she did, his legs against hers were toasty warm.
She couldn’t resist jigging her cold feet and thighs against him.
“Oh.” She let out a surprised, pleasure-filled sound. “That’s something I’ve missed so much. I totally forgot how nice it feels to warm your cold bits on someone else’s warm ones.”
“That’s funny—because I’d forgotten the reverse. How horrible it is to have someone’s cold feet all over you.”