Risky Moves. Carrie Alexander

      Julia lifted her hand off his knee. “I guess not.”

      Oh.

      She took a long drink of the beer, even though he knew she wasn’t crazy about the taste. Dabbed her lips with the edge of her sleeve. To show she was aware that he was watching, she gave him a bland smile, deliberately saying nothing more.

      He got the point. One, quit whining. Two, don’t ask for ego reinforcement from the one woman who had particular reason to notice when he was gone. Even though she couldn’t admit it, Julia was as aware of him as he was of her. And that was plenty. Each time he returned home, he scrutinized every detail about her. When they were together, he was continually aware of where she was in proximity to him, who she was talking to, of her every laugh and gesture and smile. He could close his eyes and identify her by smell. Clean and fresh with a hint of sunny lavender. Never cloying.

      Better for him to stay away, he thought, feeling desire stirring his gut.

      Always the same attraction—and the same conclusion.

      “I suppose you’ll be leaving soon,” she said casually.

      He’d been in Idaho far too long—a stay enforced by his accident and slow recovery. As much as he enjoyed the state’s rugged outdoor life—the beautiful but treacherous mountains and rivers—he usually craved new experiences before too long. But this past year had been different. Idle and faced with too much time to think, he’d found himself longing not for unseen vistas but for the rolling hills and open farmland of Quimby, his humble hometown.

      But that was only because the unknown was out of reach to him now.

      Had to be.

      “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he confessed.

      Julia showed her surprise. “Oh, pfft. Adam Brody always has somewhere to go.”

      “No job.” Over the years, he’d worked a variety of jobs, from tree surgeon to river guide to sky dive instructor to construction. All of them physical and beyond his present capabilities. “Gave up my lease.” First time in his life he’d had a lease—an experience he didn’t plan to repeat. “All my meager possessions are packed in the back of my Jeep.”

      “A sleeping bag, a tent, a mountain bike and a kayak,” she said. “A pair of hiking boots and enough rock-climbing equipment to scale the Manhattan skyline.”

      “That about sums it up.” He tilted his head and drained the beer, thinking of two possessions she’d missed—the cane that Zack had kept replacing each time Adam snapped one in frustration and the worn photo that was always buttoned in one of his shirts or jacket pockets. He kept the first under the car seat for the rare times he needed it. The second was Julia on her eighteenth birthday.

      “Then you’re free to stay for a while.” Was that hope in her voice or was he imagining it?

      “I wasn’t planning on more than a few days.”

      “Long enough to teach me to rock climb?”

      He sent her a slanted smile. “Kinda hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

      “Nope. I’ve penciled you into my date book, smack dab between an estate-tax seminar and the Holliwells’ open house.”

      She was kidding. He was sure she was kidding.

      Gwendolyn Case came around, passing out hot dogs. Adam took two and chose a twin-pronged stick to roast them on. “You’re looking really good,” Gwen said, lingering.

      “You, too, Gwen.” The buxom bridesmaid had put jeans on under her formal dress and bunched the skirts at her waist, strapping them in with a belt. Snagging the bridal bouquet had made her bolder than ever—despite her interest in the admiral, she’d been making a game of sizing up the available choices over the bonfire. Adam’s response was perfunctory at best. To him, Gwen would always be the brassy, bossy baby-sitter who’d once wrestled him out of a tree and sat on him till he’d promised not to climb it again.

      “Chuck’s looking hungry,” Julia said.

      Gwen spun around, lighting up when she saw that Chuck Cheswick, who was as big as a bear and twice as ravenous, had already finished his third hot dog.

      “Sneaky,” Adam said when Gwen had gone.

      “A woman with a bridal bouquet is a dangerous creature. A few more seconds and you’d have shot to the top of her eligible bachelor list.” Julia smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You owe me now.”

      “I can take care of myself,” he said, then stopped, feeling uneasy because he’d learned that the statement wasn’t always true. He positioned the hot dogs over a chunk of burned log that glowed orange with black edges, good for a slow roast.

      “No excuse not to express appreciation for my diversion tactic.” Julia’s tone was light and teasing, but he could see that she recognized what he was going through. Since the accident, his self-image had taken a serious beating. He still struggled with the adjustment. Against it, truthfully.

      He remembered resenting Zack, especially on the days he needed him most. His brother had an easy charm, a large capacity to love and forgive. He also had good fortune, good looks and two good legs. There had been days Adam hated him.

      “Leave me alone,” he’d said again and again. Sometimes with bitterness, sometimes with fear or twisted pride or weakness. He hadn’t wanted anyone, even a brother, to see him that way.

      Zack refused. “For once you can’t do the leaving, brother. I’m taking advantage of that for as long as I can.” And he’d stayed, with never a complaint. As if it had been for his own benefit.

      “I can handle this on my own,” Adam said when he began physical therapy. Never mind that he was running with sweat, clinging to the bars of a walker as though it tilted on the edge of a precipice.

      “Of course you can,” Zack said. “I’m just here for the entertainment value. This is better than your teenage Evel Knievel motorcycle act.”

      Adam cursed him out all the way across the hospital room till he stood panting at the open door.

      Zack had applauded. And then said, “Dare you to keep going.” He’d known exactly how to treat his prickly brother—with brusque affection and a dare. Adam had never turned down a dare.

      “All right, all right,” he said now to Julia. “I appreciate you running interference. Just don’t expect a reward.”

      “You’re burning the hot dogs.”

      He pulled them from the flames, waving as the breeze turned and stinging smoke billowed into their faces. “I am not teaching you to rock climb.”

      She squinted. “Yes, you are.” She folded a bun around one of the charred wieners and slid it off the stick. Then the other. “Ketchup, mustard?” she asked, flicking through the packets of condiments that were being passed around the circle. “Relish?”

      He stabbed the stick into the sand, digging into the cool grains with his knuckles. “Why should I?”

      Carefully she squeezed ketchup over the hot dog balanced on her kneecaps. “Because…” She licked her thumb, looking at Adam from the corners of her eyes. Other noises seemed to recede until he heard only the sound of the lake lapping at the shore, the gentle swish of evergreen branches brushing against each other.

      “Because I have something you need.” Julia’s voice was soft, seductive—and as much a part of him as the infinite sky and the flow of water and the silken sand that ran through his fingers faster than before.

      Life is short, he’d learned.

      Grab her while you can.

      THEY ATE HOT DOGS, they talked briefly about Zack and Cathy—whom he really didn’t know at all except that he liked her for not fussing at him for coming late to her wedding—and they joined in a dozen