Camp.
Back to Kay.
“That’s cool. So? You got a plan cooking for the two of you? I can give you some pointers, since you’ve been so slow to the mark.”
“Like I’d take dating advice from you.” Nate chuckled as if he hadn’t a care. Dave might be his best friend, but with his one-night stand history? That would be a no. The term “committed relationship” didn’t exist in Dave’s vocabulary. Need a smooth pick-up line? Dave was your man. But a plan, oh, yeah, he needed a new one, desperately.
So, pump JoAnn and Lloyd for advice? He might have to suck in his pride, but of all his friends they knew Kay best.
“Hey, just because I haven’t been hooked and netted doesn’t mean I don’t know how to get the job done.” Deep belly laughs shook through Dave.
They neared the shoreline. Mark was looking desperate, bobbing, wobbling and slewing on the wake, but gave no signal to stop, and every time Nate thought he’d go down, Mark caught his balance.
“Hang on, you’re almost there!”
Finally, they were close enough. Nate signaled Mark to drop the handles.
Mark let go on the cue and immediately slewed and tumbled off the churning wake edge, biting water hard and his ski shooting off toward the beach.
Nate winced. Ouch.
But Mark splashed up with the okay signal and began the short swim to shore.
Dave brought the boat to a stop to let Nate haul in the rope.
“Remember my advice. Romance her. Candlelight. Champagne. The works. Women love that shit. And the words. They need the words.” Dave’s teasing expression boded trouble.
“Words? What words?”
“What words? Oh, man, you’re in worse shape than I thought. Nate, my friend, the three little words that are the key to a woman’s heart and to saving your ass in many, many ways: I love you. If you don’t say those words, or worse, say them wrong, you’re screwed three ways to Sunday. They need a lot of other words, but those are your lifeline in the sea of romance.”
Nate grimaced. He’d said the words. Meant them with all his heart and soul. Obviously, in Dave’s world Nate had said them wrong. He was definitely screwed.
As Dave brought the boat around to shore, Mark was stumbling from the water holding his arms in the air like Rocky to the cheers of the folks on shore. JoAnn peeled him out of his life vest and wrapped a towel around him, and Kay handed Mark a beer.
Dave elbowed Nate as they waded ashore. “Don’t forget the words. Got it?”
Nate snorted. “Got it.” Kay was walking away from them. Where was she headed? Oh, ice chest. Yep, paranoid.
“I’m serious. Remember Lyssa Burnham?”
Lyssa the Ice Queen had been their senior-year class president in college. Brains and beauty in one chilly, unobtainable package. Decidedly not interested in a scruffy bio, architecture, or art major. She was some sort of high and mighty politico type in D.C. now.
Kay was popping the beer cans, looking grim. JoAnn was chattering away with Margie and Patti and practicing for motherhood by scrubbing the water from Mark’s long hair as if he were a weedy toddler. Olivia stood smoking, her back to the camp, at the farthest edge of the beach, where the rocky corner of the hillside turned to the next cove.
Shit, he didn’t even know how Kay felt about having kids. He’d thought she wanted them. His stomach churned. Or was that simply another of his assumptions? She definitely liked kids—hell, he hoped she liked kids since she taught them, and she looked happy for JoAnn, but—
Dave elbowed Nate again. “You listening? Nate, hey, pay attention here.”
“Lyssa? Yeah.”
Dave slapped Nate’s shoulder, his wicked grin full of amusement. “The words, man. Proof. The right words, skillfully applied—a night made for history. Oh, yeah.”
Nate groaned and choked on his laugh. “No way. You’re so full of shit.”
“Laugh now, monkey boy. I plan to laugh plenty at you real soon. Now, go get her. I’m rooting for you.” He pushed
Back to Kay.
“That’s cool. So? You got a plan cooking for the two of you? I can give you some pointers, since you’ve been so slow to the mark.”
“Like I’d take dating advice from you.” Nate chuckled as if he hadn’t a care. Dave might be his best friend, but with his one-night stand history? That would be a no. The term “committed relationship” didn’t exist in Dave’s vocabulary. Need a smooth pick-up line? Dave was your man. But a plan, oh, yeah, he needed a new one, desperately.
So, pump JoAnn and Lloyd for advice? He might have to suck in his pride, but of all his friends they knew Kay best.
“Hey, just because I haven’t been hooked and netted doesn’t mean I don’t know how to get the job done.” Deep belly laughs shook through Dave.
They neared the shoreline. Mark was looking desperate, bobbing, wobbling and slewing on the wake, but gave no signal to stop, and every time Nate thought he’d go down, Mark caught his balance.
“Hang on, you’re almost there!”
Finally, they were close enough. Nate signaled Mark to drop the handles.
Mark let go on the cue and immediately slewed and tumbled off the churning wake edge, biting water hard and his ski shooting off toward the beach.
Nate winced. Ouch.
But Mark splashed up with the okay signal and began the short swim to shore.
Dave brought the boat to a stop to let Nate haul in the rope.
“Remember my advice. Romance her. Candlelight. Champagne. The works. Women love that shit. And the words. They need the words.” Dave’s teasing expression boded trouble.
“Words? What words?”
“What words? Oh, man, you’re in worse shape than I thought. Nate, my friend, the three little words that are the key to a woman’s heart and to saving your ass in many, many ways: I love you. If you don’t say those words, or worse, say them wrong, you’re screwed three ways to Sunday. They need a lot of other words, but those are your lifeline in the sea of romance.”
Nate grimaced. He’d said the words. Meant them with all his heart and soul. Obviously, in Dave’s world Nate had said them wrong. He was definitely screwed.
As Dave brought the boat around to shore, Mark was stumbling from the water holding his arms in the air like Rocky to the cheers of the folks on shore. JoAnn peeled him out of his life vest and wrapped a towel around him, and Kay handed Mark a beer.
Dave elbowed Nate as they waded ashore. “Don’t forget the words. Got it?”
Nate snorted. “Got it.” Kay was walking away from them. Where was she headed? Oh, ice chest. Yep, paranoid.
“I’m serious. Remember Lyssa Burnham?”
Lyssa the Ice Queen had been their senior-year class president in college. Brains and beauty in one chilly, unobtainable package. Decidedly not interested in a scruffy bio, architecture, or art major. She was some sort of high and mighty politico type in D.C. now.
Kay was popping the beer cans, looking grim. JoAnn was chattering away with Margie and Patti and practicing for motherhood by scrubbing the water from Mark’s long hair as if he were a weedy toddler. Olivia stood smoking, her back to the camp, at the farthest edge of the beach, where the rocky corner of the hillside turned to the next cove.
Shit, he didn’t even know how Kay felt about having kids. He’d thought she wanted them. His stomach churned. Or was that simply another of his assumptions? She definitely liked kids—hell, he hoped she liked kids since she taught them, and she looked happy for JoAnn, but—
Dave elbowed Nate again. “You listening? Nate, hey, pay attention here.”
“Lyssa? Yeah.”
Dave slapped Nate’s shoulder, his wicked grin full of amusement. “The words, man. Proof. The right words, skillfully applied—a night made for history. Oh, yeah.”
Nate groaned and choked on his laugh. “No way. You’re so full of shit.”
“Laugh now, monkey boy. I plan to laugh plenty at you real soon. Now, go get her. I’m rooting for you.” He pushed
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