She certainly didn’t matter to him.
He was here for his father, and he claimed to be just a
lackey. His words had been tinged with sadness no matter the careless way he’d
said that. Well, her parents might be quirky but they loved her. There was no
question about that. But it seemed like Rick actually worked for his father,
not with him. Maybe there was more there than she could guess. Maybe he wasn’t
the driven one.
She slipped her boots back on and left the cabin. It was a
beautiful night, clear and damp with that hint of coolness that meant autumn
was at last on its way. The animals around her—crickets, tree frogs and larger
night creatures—sang into the moist air. She headed for the dock and sat on the
edge. She felt no lure for swimming tonight, just a need to breath. To relax. To
puzzle through one problem at a time and get Rick Chapman out of her mind.
Stretching out against the planking she arched her back and
reached over her head. Tension pulled but she fought it, pressing until she
began to feel her muscles lengthen. Her legs pulled downward, her rib cage
opened and let in the fresh, fragrant air. She’d center her chi , as her
parents had taught her. She trained her energy on regaining her own strength as
she cleared her mind of everything but the breeze dancing over her flushed skin.
Breathing in slowly through her nose, she began to focus. Blowing
softy out through her mouth, she urged the tension and confusion to leave her. Her
mind fought, but soon wound its own circles. With each beat of her heart
thoughts came to her.
Adam. Rick. The buckwheat. The Institute. Her parents. The
money. Dr. Robbins. The money. Rick. Her parents. Rick. Rick. Rick. She gave up
and let her mind focus on his easy grin, his deep eyes. His amazing body. Oh,
what the heck.
“Mmm… ” she murmured. “Rick.”
***
Rick took the access road to Harmony’s camp and parked his
SUV where it dead-ended. The walk wasn’t long to her place but the two bottles
of beer he brought were sweaty by the time he reached it. The stars above his
head lit the way, that and the moon glinting off the lake’s surface. The
property around this lakeshore was yet untamed. Spanish moss dripped off the
canopy of trees overhead. He came to her tent-cabin, smaller than he’d
envisioned, and knocked on the thin wooden door with his knuckles.
“Harmony?” he called.
No answer. He peered inside. It was austere, but with
touches of hominess. A patchwork rug covered the floor and wind chimes hung in
each corner, tinkling softly in the breeze coming through raised window flaps. A
bed larger than the cot he’d expected was covered with a worn quilt, rumpled
like she’d just gotten off of it. Her notes were spread on the small desk in
one corner, pens and pencils scattered on the surface beneath the lone light
left on. He sniffed the air. He recognized that smell. Flowers and earth and
something more. That citrus smell that seemed to cling to Harmony’s skin.
He stepped outside again and glanced around.
“Rick.” The breeze seemed to carry his name.
He spun and looked toward the lake. Had he heard his name? Man,
he was losing his mind. He supposed lack of sex would do that. He heard it
again, soft and breathy. There was a figure on the dock. Slight and lithe. It
hit him then. Like the scent in the cabin, it could only be Harmony.
The sand beneath his boots muffled his footsteps as he
approached the dock. She didn’t hear him, just kept reaching over her head and
arching her body.
“Rick,” he heard her sigh.
Her incredible hair covered the wood, shining in the
moonlight. She wore boxers and the tiniest tank top, her breasts pressing
against the ribbed fabric. He watched her chest fall, hearing a soft breathy
sigh on the exhalation. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark on her cheekbones.
A smile curved her mouth as she breathed in through her nose, pressing those
gorgeous breasts back toward the stars.
He’d suspected her body
He was here for his father, and he claimed to be just a
lackey. His words had been tinged with sadness no matter the careless way he’d
said that. Well, her parents might be quirky but they loved her. There was no
question about that. But it seemed like Rick actually worked for his father,
not with him. Maybe there was more there than she could guess. Maybe he wasn’t
the driven one.
She slipped her boots back on and left the cabin. It was a
beautiful night, clear and damp with that hint of coolness that meant autumn
was at last on its way. The animals around her—crickets, tree frogs and larger
night creatures—sang into the moist air. She headed for the dock and sat on the
edge. She felt no lure for swimming tonight, just a need to breath. To relax. To
puzzle through one problem at a time and get Rick Chapman out of her mind.
Stretching out against the planking she arched her back and
reached over her head. Tension pulled but she fought it, pressing until she
began to feel her muscles lengthen. Her legs pulled downward, her rib cage
opened and let in the fresh, fragrant air. She’d center her chi , as her
parents had taught her. She trained her energy on regaining her own strength as
she cleared her mind of everything but the breeze dancing over her flushed skin.
Breathing in slowly through her nose, she began to focus. Blowing
softy out through her mouth, she urged the tension and confusion to leave her. Her
mind fought, but soon wound its own circles. With each beat of her heart
thoughts came to her.
Adam. Rick. The buckwheat. The Institute. Her parents. The
money. Dr. Robbins. The money. Rick. Her parents. Rick. Rick. Rick. She gave up
and let her mind focus on his easy grin, his deep eyes. His amazing body. Oh,
what the heck.
“Mmm… ” she murmured. “Rick.”
***
Rick took the access road to Harmony’s camp and parked his
SUV where it dead-ended. The walk wasn’t long to her place but the two bottles
of beer he brought were sweaty by the time he reached it. The stars above his
head lit the way, that and the moon glinting off the lake’s surface. The
property around this lakeshore was yet untamed. Spanish moss dripped off the
canopy of trees overhead. He came to her tent-cabin, smaller than he’d
envisioned, and knocked on the thin wooden door with his knuckles.
“Harmony?” he called.
No answer. He peered inside. It was austere, but with
touches of hominess. A patchwork rug covered the floor and wind chimes hung in
each corner, tinkling softly in the breeze coming through raised window flaps. A
bed larger than the cot he’d expected was covered with a worn quilt, rumpled
like she’d just gotten off of it. Her notes were spread on the small desk in
one corner, pens and pencils scattered on the surface beneath the lone light
left on. He sniffed the air. He recognized that smell. Flowers and earth and
something more. That citrus smell that seemed to cling to Harmony’s skin.
He stepped outside again and glanced around.
“Rick.” The breeze seemed to carry his name.
He spun and looked toward the lake. Had he heard his name? Man,
he was losing his mind. He supposed lack of sex would do that. He heard it
again, soft and breathy. There was a figure on the dock. Slight and lithe. It
hit him then. Like the scent in the cabin, it could only be Harmony.
The sand beneath his boots muffled his footsteps as he
approached the dock. She didn’t hear him, just kept reaching over her head and
arching her body.
“Rick,” he heard her sigh.
Her incredible hair covered the wood, shining in the
moonlight. She wore boxers and the tiniest tank top, her breasts pressing
against the ribbed fabric. He watched her chest fall, hearing a soft breathy
sigh on the exhalation. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark on her cheekbones.
A smile curved her mouth as she breathed in through her nose, pressing those
gorgeous breasts back toward the stars.
He’d suspected her body
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