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“How long will this take?” Dot asked.
“Why are we doing this?” Otis whined.
“It’s hot,” Rowdy said. “And it’s fun.”
“Can you swim?” Otis countered.
Rowdy nodded, smiling at Poppy. “Come on, Ma.” He ran ahead, following the dirt path that cut down and around behind their small house to the river below.
Poppy paused, appreciating what was now her property. There was a slight hill leading to the river, several tall oak and pecan trees casting patches of cover. She could only imagine how the place would look when the bluebonnets were blooming. Her gaze wandered, imagining a sea of blue, waving in the breeze.
At the base of the hill, the Medina River waited. The shore of the river was made of pebbles and rock. Small fish, more rocks and bright green patches of green moss were visible beneath the clear water. She’d read enough on the area to know that its depth varied widely, so she didn’t want the kids exploring on their own—not yet.
Rowdy walked out onto one especially large flat rock that extended into the river.
“How deep is it?” Otis asked.
“Not deep,” Rowdy answered. “I can see the bottom.”
“Wait for me,” Poppy called out.
“Going tubing?” Toben’s voice at her side made her jump. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t hear you.” She turned, instantly aware of the crackle in the air between them. Suddenly her cutoff jeans and pink tank top seemed revealing—her bikini underneath downright indecent. Not that there was anything wrong with what she was wearing. He’d seen her in a lot less. Besides, everything she owned was modest. And they were going tubing, after all. But she didn’t miss the way he looked at her, those blue eyes...
“Your face?” she asked, angry colors marring his cheek and brow, reaching up. She hadn’t meant to touch him, to feel how soft the hair at his temple was or note the slight hitch in his breath.
His hand encircled her wrist. “Nothing worth talking about.” His voice was gruff and deep, making her toes curl against the rubber soles of her flip-flops.
His hold was gentle, the roughened skin of his thumb brushing slowly against the inside of her wrist. The summer breeze blew, making his curls brush her fingertips and his scent flood her nostrils. Why did it have to be this way between them? Fragments of memory, the jolt of sensation. How could she still remember how he tasted? How it felt to be pressed beneath him? An instantaneous ache racked her. She pulled her hand b
ack, ignoring the tingles—ignoring the white-hot want.
Worse, he seemed just as affected as she was. His gaze centered on her lips, the muscles of his jaw clenching tightly.
She shifted the inner tube, holding it in front of her, needing a barrier. “It’s a hot day. Figured we could swim a little.”
He nodded, his gaze sweeping over her face.
“You coming?” Rowdy called. When he turned and saw Toben, his smile grew. “Hi! You coming, too?”
Poppy held her breath. On the one hand, it was a bad idea. On the other, she wouldn’t mind the help. Did Otis and Dot swim well? She’d asked and they’d leveled their signature dismissive look her way—she had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
“Okay with you?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye.
“Give me a sec,” he yelled, running back toward the house.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered all the way down to the river. “No, Toben, you can’t come with us,” she whispered. “Maybe next time. Maybe never.”
“What’d you say, Ma?” Rowdy asked, sticking his feet in the river. “Ah man, it’s cold.”
“Is it?” she asked.
Rowdy nodded, splashing her.
She squealed, shielding her face and giggling. “Rowdy!”
