Rivers end boxset volume.., p.42
River's End Boxset Volume 3, page 42
“Uh… now? Here?”
“Why not?” She set her feet on the ground. “Lucky you, I’m wearing my swimsuit as I so often do this time of year.”
Mateo tried not to picture what Rose wore under her clothes. Bra or swimsuit he was uncomfortable.
“A half dozen guys are down at the beach right now. Work is done. It’s hot as a…” No crude language. “…Well, I don’t know but it’s hot and they will be cooling off. All my neighbors will be there.”
She shrugged and blinked. Her neutral expression waited for the reason. Why not? “And they’d be right.”
She didn’t seem to realize they would also stare and snicker and make remarks about her. Women just didn’t hang out here. This wasn’t a camp for families or couples. It was a bunch of rough-assed workers that worked out in the fields, orchards and alfalfa pastures of the valley. This time of year, even a few worked the cattle herds that roamed far from the range lands. For the most part, only crude, young guys like Mateo lived in this small enclave of rental units.
“You’d be the only woman.”
“So?” Blink. No stress appeared on her face. She rolled her eyes.
“Really? You had to say that to me? As if what? I can’t go there now? I’d somehow not be allowed to use the river? Please don’t say that to me again. I don’t care. I’m hot. It’s so hot in here that we should swim. That’s how we should start.”
Still unsure and frustrated, Mateo’s anxiety grew from not knowing the rules, and he pressed, “Start what?”
“Getting to know each other.”
“That’s it. That’s all you want?”
“Yes. Don’t you?” Her head tilted and her eyes were big and beguiling. She wasn’t teasing or being sarcastic. She meant it. She would be hurt if he said he didn’t want to get to know her. He knew he was right about that. It both pleased and surprised him. He was also uncomfortable under the pressure to do and be something he just didn’t know how to begin. But she waited for his answer. And she seemed to freaking care if she got it.
He nodded, gulped and said simply, “Yeah. Okay.”
She smiled, turned and headed for his front door. Opening it, she inhaled deeply as the air was a smidgeon cooler outside than in his shack.
He followed her as she crossed between the two buildings to the obvious river trail. It was short and rocky and they passed through a small gully filled with bushy willows. Their “beach” was merely a rocky bottom. But it was always cool, clear water and the only thing to do on evenings like this. Bottles of beer and pot were often passed around. Sometimes food. Mateo didn’t know what to make of Rose Rydell so casually marching up there. She seemed fine. Not worried she was stepping into a world that wasn’t the least bit familiar to her.
A few noticed her so she stopped and smiled. “I’ve rafted past here many times. Looks very different from this angle.” That’s all she said as she slipped her shorts down and pulled off her tank top.
A few more gazes slipped her way. They stared. Nobody was subtle about it. They all but licked their chops at her little strip show. But, for Rose, it wasn’t. She didn’t move her body in a seductive wiggle. She was modest and economical with her body movements. She was always in such a hurry to get into her beloved river. And tugging off her shirt or coverup was part of it. She didn’t realize the unexpected reveal of slim arms and round, full breasts and hips were something Mateo long awaited each time he went to the damn beach, which was mostly for her. To see her.
Never did she realize his fantasies were stocked by Rose’s urgent desire to quickly duck into the water she loved. Like now, she was hot and ready to swim. She didn’t see it as anything sexy or revealing or showing off. Just wearing the right gear for swimming. Over her shoulder, she smiled at him.
His dead, black heart stirred to life. Her damn smile. It could stop the next world war.
He’d put on a black pair of nylon shorts when he got home but never expected a knock on his door, or to find Rose Rydell standing there. He never dreamt she’d visit his glorified tool shed without raising her nose in the air with disgust, much less, sit down and talk to him.
They truly talked. A deep discussion. But what he found most alluring was the honesty with which Rose spoke of herself and her feelings toward him. She had no clue how he felt because he didn’t know. He certainly never shared such things with anyone. So what she said was like telling it to a blank wall. She was brave and smart and her courage dripped off her, while he stood mute and stupid in the corner. Never knowing how to say anything. Never sure of his feelings.
The only thing he would admit was his constant need to put himself in Rose’s sphere. He befriended her sister. He came to her beach. He kept coming when he saw what it meant to her. He fed her tidbits about him, things he never told anyone else. Ever. He surprised himself by doing so. He lay awake many nights wondering why he felt so compelled to tell her small facts about him. Why? What was he after?
And the only answer was: SEX. He wanted to have more sex with Rose. That must be why he tried to be so honest and kept seeking her out. That was why he said things out loud that his brain told him not to.
Sex with Rose was better and hotter and deeper and all the wonderful things he never felt before. So he ran away from her and was far more confused than Rose thought she was. Because in his mind, of course, Rose wouldn’t feel anything like that about him. No way could she.
But she did.
She came to him. Here. And here she was.
Voices called their names as they stepped to the river’s edge. Words were spoken that Rose didn’t know the meaning of. Good thing she didn’t and Mateo blew them off. He dismissed them with a wave and snarled his response. Rose didn’t know a word of Spanish. She took French in high school and college. She’d told him that. He remembered everything she ever said.
She let out a soft groan as her bare feet touched the river bottom. The rocks were rounded, and the size of a man’s hand on average. Shoes were needed, but she didn’t have any. It wasn’t even close to her family’s section of the river. She didn’t care as she got to the deepest point, which only came up to her mid-thighs. She sunk down anyway.
She made him smile. It was so her. She was visibly enthralled with the water in the river.
She blinked and stared at him as he joined her. It felt really nice. Mateo was used to the absence of AC despite the extreme heat of the shed. So it wasn’t quite as relieving for him as for Rose.
“What?” he asked when she kept staring at him, tilting her head. Her expression was strange.
“You’re smiling. It’s so rare. I don’t think I noticed how rare it really is before. You tease Iris so much. You laugh, but I never see you smile. Not like that.”
“Like what?” He sat on the river floor, sinking his shoulders down. He grunted his response, unsure how to speak to Rose now.
“Like… affectionate. Like you were amused with me and you liked me just now.”
There was something beguiling about her tilted head and sparkling eyes. Was it because of his damn smile? She seemed to see him when no one else really did. No, he didn’t smile much. He joked and teased and easily threw shade. He could be sarcastic and mocking.
But a friendly smile like she described? Rare indeed. Never much need to smile in his experience. But she was right. She did amuse him and he was feeling affection. But having someone read him so clearly, when he didn’t even know how to label it himself, was disconcerting and strange.
She bobbed closer to him. The urge to grab her around her waist and drag her against him crossed his mind but he simply stayed still in the cool water. “Did you?” she pressed.
“Yeah. I guess. You and the water are funny. You’re so reverent about it. You react to being in it like other people react to having sex.”
She punched him on the arm kiddingly. “I don’t look like I’m having an orgasm.”
She’d shrieked it. Loudly. And hearing the word orgasm swiveled five heads around with avid interest towards them. She realized it too late and shoved a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I yelled that.” She kept her face tipped towards the water as her pale, fair skin turned the same shade of pink to match her hair. He… well, fuck, how could he resist the adorable mess that Rose Rydell became when she was embarrassed? About the words she said. He leaned forward and instead of crushing her mouth with a hard, unrelenting kiss, like he wanted to give her, he knew she’d hate having an audience so he did something new.
He took her hand in his.
She stared down, somewhat startled at his unexpected touch and the way his fingertips clenched hers. After a second, he felt strange and dropped her hand. He wasn’t one to seek or want affection. In all honesty, there’d never been anyone to give it to or receive it from. His mother? Never. His brother? Ha! No. His dad? Maybe he was the closest thing to giving and getting affection. From a bitter, hardened father. But his dad’s way of showing love was by teaching him mechanical skills.
Mateo cleared his throat after the quick touch and glanced towards the opposite shore. “You do look a little orgasmic in the water. But it’s also what drew me back to the beach for the whole month of July. Just to see that look.”
She replied, “Mateo?”
He had to look back or be rude.
“You… you’re not comfortable with affection, are you?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Never thought about it before.”
“Maybe you could think about it.”
That’s all she said. She smiled and dived under the water. What was that all about? Was she tucking it away for later? Part of her understanding him? How could she when he had no understanding of himself? He never spent any time examining his inner self so why would she? Her body wiggled and squirmed under the clear water and she didn’t come up for air until she was well downriver, in the thick of the other swimmers.
She smiled and started swimming with them. She was frolicking with the same guys he no more than exchanged greetings with now and then. The few filthy words they’d implied about Rose when they’d walked up provided more interaction than all of the months Mateo had lived alongside these men.
But Rose had several of them smiling and talking to her. Her warm smile and twinkling eyes showed a kindness, the same warmth that drew Mateo to her and they responded too.
Mateo wandered downriver to be closer to her. He listened and spoke and interacted. He joked and even laughed a few times. Rose made him interact with her. And them. At this place. A place where nothing pleasant or neighborly existed.
Finally, the sun began its descent and the breeze cooled the stifling air. Goose bumps broke out all over her body and she finally emerged from the water as she rubbed at her arms. “I’m getting cold.”
“Finally? Are you sure you aren’t half mermaid?” he teased. Mateo retreated from the cool water more than once only to rejoin her as she talked with guys he only now learned the names of.
Rose struggled to cross the rocky shoreline, for there wasn’t a foot of sand there. Mateo quickly walked after her, his steps surer than hers. They entered his shed and she quit shivering and laughed. “It’s still stifling in here but now it’ll warm me up.” She was dripping wet. Her hair sent rivulets down her slim shoulders and back.
He stepped forward, fighting the urge to lick the streams of water. And to cup her breasts outlined in her wet swimsuit. But no sex. No rules. He had no idea what she meant and no history to gauge it by. He dug around the bottom drawer where he kept a few towels and handed her one. She gratefully took it and wiped her skin dry, toweling off her hair. Her face was free now of makeup and she was natural and glowing and beautiful. Inside as much as out. Her kindness and warmth and honesty were qualities he was totally drawn toward, but it was so unusual for him to find all of them in one person.
“So can you handle that?” she questioned. She was bent over, towel-drying her hair.
“Handle what?”
“What we just did. You and me together. A little getting to know each other. That’s it. It’s a start.”
“It was… doable,” he finally answered her in a monotone. He looked bored, but she glanced up and straightened her spine to see him clearly.
“Doable? That was insulting. You can do much better.”
His lips twitched. Could they flirt and be casual and funny? He didn’t know. He never felt it with anyone but friends. Like Iris. Not Rose. But now, he felt things. Mixed up things. Things he had no words for. New things. Big, new things. “Tolerable?” His mouth twitched.
Her gaze narrowed and her lips pursed. “Yeah, that’s even worse. Lord, you suck at this. Try again.”
“A degree less than torture?”
Her eyes shut and her shoulders fell forward. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change…”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Praying for divine help in dealing with your narrow-minded, chip-on-your-shoulder, clueless ass. Duh.” She scoffed. A smile teased her lips. Her head was bowed and her eyes half closed, but she couldn’t resist the grin that overtook her face. “You’re going to make me insane before we figure this out.”
She was right about all of it. His face closed up and her teasing froze him. She noticed it. “I still want to do this. It was fun tonight, right? Easy? Like the times we spent in the river before we…” Her lip caught on her teeth as she finished, “…started doing it.”
It was fun. Not easy because it was so odd, but every word she’d said was etched into his mind. Every movement was memorized. Every little gesture, sound and nicety she said to strangers was appreciated and categorized by him. So yeah. He noticed her. He liked her. It was fun. And intense. And fuck yeah, he wanted more from her.
And she wouldn’t say fuck. So he recalled the edge of her that was so serious that made him smile.
“God, grant me the patience to deal with a grown woman who won’t say sex or fuck or getting laid or anything remotely accurate but doing it.”
She laughed and swung her wet hair back. Leaning forward, she slid her legs into the shorts she’d hauled up from the beach and pulled her tank top back on. Her wet swimsuit stained her dry clothes with dark marks. His gaze devoured her and he loved the view.
“I’m going home.”
“Okay.” He was at a loss. What was he supposed to say or do now? Was it over? Have a nice evening? A great fuck. Another lost opportunity to fuck again? What did he do or say?
“You’re worried about my dad knowing about us?”
“Yeah.” Us? Her casual use of the word and subsequent assumption about it pertaining to her and him confused him. It made him stiff and unnatural and blustery. Kind of mean almost.
“Then we’ll keep it quiet.” She shook her head with a small smile. “Between us and… well, the ten orchard workers who all know my name. But I doubt any of them have a burning desire to run out and tell my dad. We’ll have to come to your place. Because… well, duh, Iris lives at mine. But what about tomorrow night? Dinner?”
“You want to come here for dinner?”
“I want to come here. Yes. And perhaps you could open the window? Let some fresh air in?”
“Uh… okay. But what should I make?”
“Nothing. I’ll bring it. So it’s a date?” she pressed.
Date. Him and Rose? It nearly suffocated him. It made his heart beat so hard like it could hammer out of his chest, fly off, and hit the horizon.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than Rose Rydell coming over to his place with a meal. Tomorrow.
No one ever willingly made him a meal. Or sought him out. He hated his desire for it. That he wanted it so badly. He hated himself for being so damn vulnerable to her. To that. Because it stirred up something he long ago banished from his life: hope.
He now hoped to see her. If she cancelled their date or changed her mind, which was very likely, he’d be disappointed. And he detested giving her that power over him.
After he went to prison, he lost his relationship with hope. He ignored hope. He survived. He thrived. He saved money and sent it home. He made sure he was never caught unaware. And it was the toughest, brightest, boldest lesson of his young life: never, ever trust anyone. Not Iris. Not Shane. Not even himself.
His mama tried to teach him that at a very young age.
As for Rose? Trusting her to come back? No.
But his heart counted on it.
“Mateo?” Her voice was soft. Questioning. Wanting affirmation.
“If you want to. This is all on you, Rose.” There. He banished the hope from the equation. She could do what she wanted. He refused to invest anything into her plan. This was most likely a new toy for Rose and she wasn’t serious.
“Then six o’clock. Tomorrow.” She smiled softly, but there was a gleam in her eye. It said something; he didn’t know what.
CHAPTER 7
MATEO’S LEVEL OF DISTRUST was so deeply ingrained, it startled her. He let it slip more than once. She had a steep hill of resistance to climb and surprisingly to her, she was intensely interested in doing so.
She showed up with dinner the next night. His gaze was as dark and intent as ever before, so she didn’t know if he wanted her there. But he let her in. The window was open too. It wasn’t much cooler than yesterday but at least some fresh air wafted through, riding the mini-breezes that randomly moved the hot air around.
Dinner wasn’t anything special. She picked up a pizza from the River’s End diner and hoped it would still be hot when she got to his house. She took some pop and beer and salad out of a bag. He had no food and no cooking space and she wasn’t comfortable enough with him yet to haul a stack of dishes and utensils. This was all so new and relatively tentative.
It might last now, or a few days. A week? Maybe longer? She couldn’t even picture that… but she had no way to gauge it. No benchmarks. Nothing. They had sex and he aroused some feelings inside her she had no idea she harbored towards him, which led to an almost insatiable curiosity. Intrigue. Wonder.
The man with the firefly tattoo. That was her subject of interest. Once, she believed he was a dangerous criminal. A man to avoid. Now? She saw glimpses of raw fear when she touched him. Confusion that almost broke her heart. She didn’t know which persona was really him. What if there was much more to him than she ever dreamed?
