Chapter Three

Dave caught his first glimpse of the campsite roasting under the intense July sun and groaned. Oh, great, a welcoming committee.

What’s your problem? They’ve all visited you since the accident last October, most more than once. Chill out and pretend nothing’s different from any other year.

Crushing the urge to turn the boat around, Dave nailed his grin in place and waved to the gang cheering and shouting hello from the beach. He needed to get out of this seat and stretch his leg. He needed a beer. He needed this step back to normal.

He eased off on the throttle and let the ski boat drift past the other boats onto the shore of Spider Camp, a wedge of sand and gravel cut into the stark desert shoulders of Lake Mohave. Cholla and other cacti, brittlebush, and creosote bushes scattered the rocky slopes above, while willow and tamarisk added their spindly shadows to the shade cast by assorted tarps.

Nate loped over and grabbed the beach anchor and line. “Hey, pal, you’re late.”

“Crosstown traffic, you know,” Dave drawled, genuinely glad to see Nate, despite his inner grousing.

A laugh burst from Nate as his sharp, concerned photographer’s eyes swept Dave. “You’re looking good. How have you been doing?” He secured the anchor in the sand.

“Better than dead. Worse than winning the lottery.” He looked a few steps above shit and Nate knew it, but yeah, he’d been a hell of a lot worse last October and shitty was better than dead.

“Good then.”

“Hell, yeah. Still wearing that hamster on your face.”

Nate grinned and stroked the tidy beard he’d taken to wearing. “What can I say? Kay likes it. Let’s get you unloaded, then break out the beer.” Nate waded out, and Lloyd, Christopher, and Mark followed.

Dave briefly considered arguing he could manage by himself, thank you very much, but hell, he needed to chill. They’d do the same for anyone. Friends pitch in to help friends.

Remember, coming to Mohave is one more step back to normal, so act normal.

He grabbed the first bag and started handing off the gear he needed on land.

Next: get overboard without looking helpless. He hoisted himself from the seat, stiff and creaky. For a miserable moment, he swore he felt every last screw, plate, and rod holding him together. Just call me Humpty Dumpty.

We can rebuild him. We have the technology…He snickered. Yeah, right.

“Hello, Dave.” Olivia’s voice rang out from above, warm and smooth as whisky, scorching right through him, heart to the balls.

Oh, hell, why was she here?

He drew a sharp breath and looked up to the hillside trail. The former Mrs. R.J. Harper herself. Olivia.

He shot a glance at Lloyd and Nate, who’d omitted this detail from their vacation planning chitchat. Thanks, guys, you might have mentioned she’d be here. They didn’t know about his mess with her in Vegas. His stomach turned. Unless she’d told them.

He was taking far too long standing there, with all eyes watching him watch Olivia. He tipped her a cocky salute. “Hey there, Florida.”

He sighed, inanely wishing he’d chosen jeans to hide his wrecked leg. Gritting his mental teeth, he eased over the gunwale into the warm, shallow water. He staggered, hanging on tight to the bobbing boat’s unsteady support.

Easy does it. They’re your friends, and they know you’re busted up. Simple is far better than trying to be cool and landing on your ass.

Right. Tired leg and body, sandy, uneven ground—pride in this instance might guarantee a fast fall. He grabbed the cane and firmly planted the stick in the sand and gravel shallows for more reasons than his bad leg and limped onshore. Too late to turn around.

So? Suck it up. Act normal.

Okay. He aimed straight for Kay, caught her around the waist, and kissed her. “Hey, Kay, ready to run off to Bora Bora with me?”

Kay’s laughter pealed and, as she hugged him tight with an emotional sniffle, he kissed her again just to annoy the shit out of Nate. He’d never seen Kay look better. Nate was so good for her.

With a smirk at Nate, he released Kay and hugged JoAnn next, who was holding eight-month-old Daisy Elizabeth. “Hi, Jo.” Dave stroked the baby’s soft cheek. “Hey, munchkin. Nice to meet you in person.”

Daisy grinned at him from under her floppy sunflower sunhat with the same cheerful blue eyes as her mom and enthusiastically gnawed his finger. He’d seen tons of pictures, but seeing her for real sent an amazing pang through his chest. JoAnn’s beautiful miracle.

“Wow, she’s getting so big. Sorry again I missed the christening. Pictures were great.”

“Aw, Dave.” JoAnn got damp-eyed and hugged him hard enough to choke him up.

The rest swarmed him with hugs and claps on the back and swept him into the blur of talk: Scott and Patti, Mike, Terry and Karen, Rich, Margie, Chuck and Pippa.

Then Olivia.

The should-have-been-simple handshake with her instead blasted him with that stolen kiss, leaving his body tight, his head dazed, and the guilt a squirming, bitter lump in his gut. Luckily, the hug assaults from Scott and Patti’s twin five-year-old boys, Ryan and Sam, jolted him free.

Nate shoved a beer into his hand, and they let him sit.

Hell. He slouched in the chair and slowly inhaled, wrestling for some control.

Nate kicked back in the chair beside him.

Lloyd raised his beer. “To friends.”

“To friends!” As all their voices chimed in, Dave looked around at the faces he’d come too damned close to never seeing again, and his many doubts over coming on this trip faded as he added a silent heartfelt, Thank you, God.

Dave took a long draw on his beer, and his gaze inexorably settled on Olivia. Now that the shock had eased, he really saw her.

She wore her hair loose, and breeze-mussed wisps of glossy black silk drifted every which way, drawing the attention to those big brown doe eyes and those soft lips. She’d lost that hunted, pinched look, and her white tank top and turquoise shorts showed off some nice new curves to her slender body. Ditching R.J. had done her good. She’d been beautiful last year, now…

Dave sucked in his breath. Well, shit, one way or another, he was in trouble.

****

Olivia glanced at Dave, only to catch him scowling at her. She ducked her head with a shiver and sipped her drink. The man was still rude and cocky, but oh, those eyes, hot amber-brown irises, the gleaming gold of whisky, encircled by a ring of dark brown, glittering under thick black lashes and sharp black brows. They haunted her even a year later. His kisses remaining seared in her mind didn’t help. Was it crazy she still felt his touch on her lips? And elsewhere?

Be brave, bold, and honest with herself. That’s the plan, right? She’d returned to Mohave for herself, because Kay had invited her, not because of Dave, not because of Vegas.

As for Vegas…

What happened in Vegas may have technically stayed in Vegas, but the memories firmly haunted her dreams and followed her back to Mohave.

At a passing glance, Dave appeared mostly unchanged as he lounged in his camp chair, trading wisecracks with his friends. A day or two of beard shadowed his strong jaw. His hair had grown out from his former military-short buzz cut, and the hot breeze tugged glossy black strands untidily over his forehead.

Second, third, and more stolen glances revealed the exhaustion, tension, and discomfort he masked by his joking around. He’d lost weight, and new lines engraved his face by mouth and eyes. Scars marked his outstretched left leg, but the long baggy board shorts hid the worst of the damage. Knowing what she did of the injuries he’d overcome, she had immense respect for his strength of will.

Olivia dragged her attention back to the conversation with Kay and JoAnn and played with Daisy to cover her confusion.

Like last year, she’d flown into Las Vegas and driven a rental car to the marina, where she’d met Lloyd, JoAnn, Daisy, and Mark and joined them on the laden boat.

Like last year, the others arrived, boat by boat, and everyone had done a quick camp set up. Mark and she had automatically claimed their space at High Water before she considered the accompanying crush of hurtful memories, but working with the cheerful, talkative Mark to organize their campsite and erect her tent drove off the shadows. Troubles with R.J. might have come to a head in High Water, but she’d also found peaceful moments here.

Unlike last year, they’d settled into antsy chatter, tiptoeing around last year’s events as they waited for Dave, worries masked under sharing memories, drinking, and snacking.

The shocking news of Dave’s plane crash had finished what R.J.’s betrayal had begun, knocked her to her knees, and woken her up.

Dave had hung on and beaten the odds and every prognostication as to his recovery.

So had she. Since October, she’d pulled herself together, faced her altered future, and successfully accomplished three things that made her happier: an astonishingly quick divorce, she’d quit smoking, and she’d entered into a business partnership with Uncle Jake.

As the months had passed by, Kay, JoAnn, and Margie had kept close by phone and on-line while she kept busy divorcing R.J. and rebuilding her life.

Whatever spurred R.J.’s abrupt cooperation in the speedy divorce remained a mystery, but she was thankful for the fast conclusion. Maybe R.J.’s longsuffering attorney convinced him that her settlement offer was far cheaper than her pursuing all she legally could receive. The one smart thing she’d done in the whole marriage was listen to her attorney’s insistence on amendments to the prenuptial R.J. had required. R.J. had been arrogant enough to believe she’d be her submissive mouse self and never follow through. Thanks to Dixon, she had, and was free from the philandering bastard with a comfortable nest egg allowing her to buy into the business with Uncle Jake.

Olivia fussed with her camera. She planned to journal her days in photos to show Uncle Jake. Last fall, lost and missing her new friends, she’d found pictures Nate had posted online, and she’d copied them for herself. The photos had brought pleasure and sorrow. She’d been shocked to see how awful she’d looked. Even Nate’s talented camera work couldn’t disguise her misery. A tender photo of Lloyd caressing JoAnn’s baby belly had crushed her into tears. The shot of Dave sitting laughing on the bow of his boat and Nate and Kay’s Vegas wedding pictures gave her smiles—and lingering shivers from that indelible encounter with Dave.

Pippa breezed into the seat beside her, sending her curls bouncing, still the fluffy, bubbly blonde. “So, what have you been up to, Livie? I love the new haircut. You look fantastic.”

Olivia raked her fingers through her hair. “Thank you. I’m working at my Uncle Jake’s bar.”

“Oh, where?”

“About an hour north of West Palm Beach. I get fresh air, delicious food, and a beautiful view of the St. Lucie River.”

Between Uncle Jake feeding her every time she turned around, the not-smoking, and her daily swims, she was almost up to a healthy weight. Her desperate flight to her uncle last October had proved the best decision she’d made in years.

“Sounds lovely. I thought you’d return to nursing.”

“I’ve been away for a while. Not ready to jump back immediately, you know?”

Olivia sipped at her vodka and tonic. She was not returning to nursing. Ever. However, saying she was taking her time was easier than answering the shocked variations on, “Why on earth are you wasting your life and education working in a bar?” She had enough guilt from her parents’ calls, with Mama sweetly worrying and Daddy gently, but firmly, pressuring her into returning home to Savannah. If only she had a sibling or two to dilute her parents’ intense hovering.

After supper, like last year, the singing and dancing to the mix of music from Lloyd’s playlist picked up. Dave sat on the farthest end of the semi-circle of chairs, outside the reach of the lantern light.

Last year, strangely, for all the sexual energy he’d radiated, Dave had never joined the dancing. Instead, he’d be found sitting back with his guitar, playing along in clever accompaniment and sometimes singing. His rough voice turned mellow and rich when he sang.

This year his guitar was missing, he wasn’t singing, and these changes disturbed her more than his surliness.

Pondering possible reasons, Olivia accidentally met eyes with Dave. The angry scowl he snapped her way jolted her with a rush of sorrow, anger, and shame. Blinking away the pricking hurt, she stretched in her camp chair, gazing into the dark, star-shot sky.

Stop. You’re not responsible for his feelings. You’ve done nothing wrong.

Rich caught her hand at the first notes of “Mambo Number Five” and spun her up laughing to join the dancing. Yes. She was free to begin her life anew. She’d begin by allowing herself to have fun. That meant dancing, laughing, and embracing the future—

And avoiding grouchy, hot-eyed men, even if their kisses were unshakeable from memory.

Ah, well, best laid plans…As she danced with the girls, and swayed in Mark’s arms, and laughed at Nate’s and Lloyd’s jokes, her mind was entirely occupied with the dark man sitting at the edge of the shadows.

****

Where the hell was he going to sleep? He’d always crashed at Spider Camp because that was the center of action, but…

Dave stood with cot and sleeping bag in hand, pondering this unexpected new problem as the twins ran circles around their cots and a wriggling Daisy practiced gurgling shrieks while being diapered. Not exactly the action he was used to.

Once upon a time, they’d been a loose group of single college friends focused on fun, fish, food, and fast boats, hanging out for two weeks to forget all responsibilities. Now the camp was Domesticity Central with the hyper twins and Daisy’s baby noises, bedtime stories, teeth brushing, and diapers.

His choices were slim. Sleep at High Water with Olivia in reach? Hell, no. He wouldn’t intrude on Nate and Kay at tiny Skunk Beach, jokingly renamed the Honeymoon Suite. That left hanging with the kids or sleep alone two coves over. A separate camp would be best, considering his insomnia and nightmares, but the women would get all fussed, and he’d have to do some fast-talk lying or truthful explaining.

Okay, he’d be social, save himself feminine fussing, the walking, and give Spider Camp a shot. If that didn’t work out, he’d move his shit past Skunk Beach.

After setting up his cot and sleeping bag, he grabbed a last beer and rejoined the circle. Daisy lay sacked out on Lloyd’s chest, and the overtired twins crashed hard once Scott and Patti pinned them down and tucked them in.

Conversations slowed and quieted, revolving around fishing and plans for the morning.

Lloyd and Scott responsible fathers—so weird to witness and wonderful, brought home with the kids here for the first time. He wouldn’t be surprised if Christopher and Margie were next to start a family. Nate’s mom had been making I’d like some grandchildren noises, and, if the gleam in Pippa’s eyes while she played with Daisy was any warning of a future career shift, Chuck was doomed, too. Terry and Karen were married three years already. Mike, he had a girlfriend back home, and Rich was dating a woman fairly steady lately. Besides Dave, Mark was the only one in the unattached single category—if his open adoration of Olivia didn’t shift further.

Anger surged at the possibility of Mark being interested in Olivia beyond friendship. Which was whacked, since he liked Mark. Mark was solid, smart, and kind, and likely everything Olivia needed in a guy.

Pretty much everything you aren’t.

Enough, enough. He was sick to death of this black, acid mood. He’d hoped being here at Mohave would help, but so far, no.

One by one, his friends wandered off to bed with hushed good nights.

He slipped into his sleeping bag, the cot creaking as he stretched and exhaled a grateful sigh. He stared into the night and the bright stars, listening to the lake’s restful lapping over sand.

Damn, he’d missed this. He hadn’t been camping, fishing, or hiking since last year. The fight to live, then the struggle to heal, had massively narrowed his life to essentials. After he was healthy enough, his lame excuse was simple avoidance of every reminder of his losses.

He slapped at the whine of a mosquito. Being here was one more step to reclaiming his life, one more step toward normal.

Changes, too many changes. Not just his life, but for them all. Seemed like only yesterday, not twenty-four years ago, that he’d come here for the first time with Nate’s and Lloyd’s families. Nate, Lloyd, and he’d continued the yearly trips through college, adding Christopher, Rich, and other friends. They’d throw their haphazard camp together, ski, fish, and talk the days and nights away, and crash into sleep on sleeping bags on the ground. Each year new creature comforts crept in: cots, air mattresses, tents, fancier stoves, and more elaborate meals. Some would bring dates, and the pairing off began. Friends drifted away each year, never to return, leaving this dwindling core group. Last year had almost seen the end of their get-togethers, until Nate had rallied them.

This year, the big change. Once casual couples were parents, and if vacation were a tune, the whole key had changed and no coda could return them to those careless days.

As for his music…hell.

Dad’s voice ghosted through him. “Rome wasn’t built in a day…You can’t rush right.”

His shrink’s voice and others followed. “Give yourself a break. Give yourself time.”

Folding his arms beneath his head, he deliberately shut his eyes and focused on the delicate lapping wash of water. Normal wasn’t ever going to be again, but he could pretend.

He woke shaking in a cold sweat from the same old falling dream. Around him, everyone slept on undisturbed.

Dawn remained a couple hours off, but he rose, stripped off his T-shirt, and waded into the cool, cradling lake, floating until his heart settled and nerves stopped jumping. On sleepless nights in past years, he’d take a walk or go fishing. This year—well, walking in the dark over stony, shifting ground was a dumbass idea.

He wasn’t ready for all these changes.

Dave floated, staring at the stars, and listened to the rhythm of the dark water and the night and his heartbeat all mixing in a solemn accompaniment. A pensive melody line drifted into tentative life. He let the music play on in his mind, hopeful, and afraid to grab and lose the moment.

“Dave?” At JoAnn’s soft call, the melody vanished like a dream evaporating on waking.

He sighed and rolled to tread water. “Yeah?”

JoAnn stood at the shore, a white flowered blanket concealing Daisy in her arms. “You okay?”

“Fine. You?”

“Yes. Daisy’s hungry.”

He limped dripping from the water and grabbed his towel off his chair.

JoAnn settled into the chair besides his, adjusting Daisy in her arms. She’d nursed Daisy around him earlier, and the baby blanket modestly covered everything, but Daisy’s soft hungry sucklings and the dark drawing the space close and personal made the natural activity uncomfortably intimate.

Get a grip. JoAnn’s sweet smile is worth any embarrassment. She’s longed for that baby in her arms for years.

Regrets swarmed, envy punched, and his heart clenched. How did it feel to give the woman you love her heart’s desire?

Hell. Dave shook his head. Him jealous of Lloyd and his domestic, responsibility-bound life? He needed more sleep than he thought.

He debated between a cowardly retreat to bed or stay with JoAnn. He chose to stay.

“I’m glad you came,” JoAnn whispered.

“Me too.” And, at that moment, he was.

They sat in companionable quiet until Daisy was finished. After JoAnn and Daisy returned to bed, Dave remained, listening to the water washing the shore and waiting sleeplessly for the elusive music’s return.

When the first pale gray of dawn offered enough light, he started the coffee JoAnn had prepped last night.

Daisy woke with the blackbirds, and Lloyd dragged himself into action, bleary-eyed and hair standing on end. While Lloyd dealt with diaper and bottle, Dave poured two coffees, both black and sweet.

“You have my undying thanks.” Lloyd juggled himself, Daisy, and the bottle into a one-handed arrangement and took the cup from Dave, sighing at his first sip. “Munchkin’s a morning person, but at least she’s a happy morning person. Kinda scary how good she is. Give her a bottle, me my coffee, and we’re good.”

One by one, the rest of Spider Camp woke and joined them with sleepy faces over grateful sips of coffee and tea, and hot cocoa for the surprisingly sluggish Ryan and Sam.

The folks from High Water ambled on in, Olivia and Mark laughing quietly together.

“Good morning.” Olivia’s sweet hesitant smile was as gorgeous as yesterday.

Frustrated want flared, and his reply growled, rusty and sharp. “Mornin’.”

She flinched.

Way to go, idiot. Right, be more of an ass than you already have.

So no surprise when she stayed as far from him as possible, chatting and laughing with Terry and Karen, adding fuel to his shitty mood.

The women voted on pancakes and bacon for breakfast.

Desperate for distraction, Dave pushed from the chair. Cooking breakfast would let him pull his act together. “I’ll get the stove going.”

****

As Dave rose stiffly from his seat, concern twinged through Olivia despite his surly attitude. He hadn’t shaved, normal for the men embracing vacation laziness, but together with the dark circles under his eyes, he looked ragged, not lazy. Was he in pain?

Stop. None of your business. He’s a big boy and can take care of himself. You’re not a nurse anymore and definitely not his.

Patti waved him off. “Oh, take it easy and enjoy your coffee, Dave.”

JoAnn was pulling the bacon from the cooler. “We’ve got it this morning.”

Dave glared, downed his coffee, and stomped off with all the grace of a wet cat.

While he threw himself into an intense sit-up session, Olivia focused on setting up for breakfast, the conversation bouncing around the women, and the wonderful, welcome sense of belonging, so different from last year where she’d walked on eggshells every single moment lost among strangers. The grouchy Mr. Knight would not spoil her morning.

At last, Nate and Kay arrived, fresh and flushed, still in the honeymoon stage despite approaching their first anniversary. Olivia ignored the jealousy shadowing her happiness for them.

Dave joined them, wet from a dip in the lake. He slouched in the end seat, sipping at coffee, and he cracked a smile or two for the chatterbox twins who were sharing a coloring book. He glanced at Nate and Kay, his whole demeanor softening for a split second into relief and happiness, reminding her of the other side to that arrogant grouch. Reminding her of his tenderness in that Vegas hallway—

Until he caught her watching, and his sour expression slammed down.

Fine. She turned her back on Mr. Grumpy.

Breakfast was devoured amid the usual loud chatter and laughter. Across the table, Christopher was nudging his blushing wife. “Come on, you know they’ll be excited for you.”

“Oh, okay.” Adorable and sweet, Margie was the youngest of the group at twenty-six and barely looked out of her teens.

Christopher grinned and clanged his fork against his mug. “Hey, everyone, listen up. Margie has a major announcement she wants to make.”

Margie flushed a glowing red and squirmed in her seat. “It’s well, not major, but it is good, or hopeful. I mean…”

“Tell them, honey. I think it’s awesome.” Christopher curled his hand around hers and gave an encouraging squeeze.

Even grumpy Dave perked up at his end of the table.

“I kind of signed with an agent on Friday. She loved it, my book.”

Exclamations, congratulations, and surprise burst out. “A book? You write? What kind of book? Why did you keep this a secret? This is awesome.”

Christopher kissed Margie and hugged her close. “Because she’s too shy to tell you all. Margie writes these terrific cozy mystery novels. I tried to get her to tell you at supper yesterday.”

Margie gamely answered the whirlwind of questions, blushing the whole time until the group finally settled back to eating.

Chuck stabbed another helping of pancakes onto his plate. “What’s the update on the house renovations? Nate? Chris?”

“You know we finished the studios, which has made life so much easier. The exterior’s complete, so the place no longer looks ready to be condemned.” Kay chuckled. Her career as an artist and Nate’s as a photographer made those the first priority in the renovations, and the house and yard looked great in the photos Kay had shared.

“Kay did a fantastic job on the landscaping.” Nate pressed a kiss to Kay’s cheek. “Oh, that reminds me, our neighbor, Faith, baked us a big container of cookies. They’re awesome.”

“Chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, peanut butter, and shortbread. I had to hide them from Nate so he didn’t eat them all on the drive here, and I can’t take all the credit for the yard. Faith was a huge help.”

Nate nodded. “The interior is at a crawl. I swear, if I have to look at one more tile sample, my head will explode.”

Kay patted Nate. “Who knew there were so many kinds of tile? And then there’s wood and laminate and vinyl…I want tile, though. The sooner we decide on the flooring and backsplash, the sooner we can say goodbye to the avocado green appliances.”

“Toss a coin?”

“We tried that.”

Christopher nodded in grinning agreement. “Heck, can we commiserate on that process! Try finding and deciding on stuff for an almost hundred-forty-year-old house. But the plumbing, electrical, and insulation are finished, and there’s plaster on the walls again, so we’re moving in despite the mess.”

After breakfast cleanup, everyone opted for lazy chatting or reading.

Olivia joined JoAnn and Patti, enjoying the boys playing in the shallows. The rough and tumble boys were so good, sharing their beach toys with Daisy and patiently fetching everything she threw.

She choked on the surge of tears and grinding heartache.

No, no crying. No children with R.J. was a blessing, remember?

Still, the loss burned, and when JoAnn let her hold Daisy and Daisy fixed her wide blue eyes and cherub-cheeked grin on her, her heart ached more than she could bear.

“I need some iced tea.” Pinning on a smile, she handed off Daisy, plopped Sam’s hat on his head, and fled before her tears escaped.

Someday she’d have a child. She might fall in love again. Single people could adopt. When she was steadier on her feet with the bar and her new future in Florida, she’d explore her options.

Dave brooded at the table alone, hunched over his coffee mug. Bare-chested, he was all hard edges and leaner than his rugged frame should carry.

Olivia frowned. He looked beat and in discomfort. “Are you okay? Need anything while I’m up?”

His sunglasses hid his eyes, but his rumpled brows and the lines bracketing his mouth tightened. “I’m fine.”

“Pardon my saying, but you don’t look fine.” Truthfully, he looked very fine, in a hot, worn-out way, sending her heart dashing willy-nilly into memories: his hard mouth’s soft touch, the press of his solid body—

“I said I’m fine!”

His growl shot her heart to pounding, but some crazy part of her charged onwards. “You’re on vacation. You can nap if you like, you know.” She nodded at Scott, who slouched limply in his chair with hat covering his face and let loose a soft, but distinct snore.

****

Damn it, everyone needed to get off his case.

Dave glared at her, jaw clamped against saying something he’d regret and adding to his list of sins.

Olivia planted hands on lovely hips and locked an unexpected no-nonsense stare on him with those soft doe eyes.

Enough. He heaved himself from the chair and grabbed two beers from the ice chest. Keeping his back firmly toward the annoying woman, he grabbed the mooring rope, waded out to his boat, and hauled himself onboard.

Shit, shit, shit. He refused to glance back. He had enough indelible images of those brown eyes filled with hurt.

He pulled the anchor and turned the key. The engines rumbled to life. He reversed out of the cove, swung the boat around sharply, and headed south until he found one of his lonelier fishing spots.

On mental autopilot, he anchored and cast a fishing line, gritting his teeth against the echo of her classy, sexy Southern belle voice. “Are you okay? Need anything…Need anything…”

Screwed up again. He popped a beer and propped his aching leg on the other seat. Maybe coming here this year was a bad idea. He’d figured he could deal with the gang. They were his family. God knows, they’d stood by him tighter than tight over the past year.

You’d think toeing the line and doing every last thing the docs had advised would help: eating right, exercising, keeping up with the PT and shrink appointments. You get thrown from the horse; you get back on, right? You get burned; you go back into the fire.

Nope. Welcome to the world of crash and burn. Literally.

Why couldn’t she leave him be?

Oh, shut up. It’s you with the problem, not Olivia.

All she’d done was attempt to share kind concern and have a civil conversation. He was the ass and needed to apologize, for a number of things. Stomping off like that, in front of his friends—Kay and JoAnn were sure to give him well-deserved shit for his crappy behavior.

He’d run from Olivia in Vegas. Yes, getting his hands off her fast had been the right thing to do then, but not the way he’d left her in tears. Now, he was running from simple conversation and blaming her to avoid managing his own demons. He was sick to death of being an asshole, but, damn, being around Olivia drove him all sorts of crazy.

He’d been unable to keep from watching her play with the kids. She fit in great with the group. So different from last year, when she’d been all tense and prim, like some haughty runway model. No, truth…far too much like a hunted fawn.

Truth was, she was a nice woman who’d got the short end of the stick from her rat-bastard ex-husband and was doing a great job of moving on with her life. He’d been a jerk since day one of meeting her last year, taking out his issues on everyone. He’d been pissed at his instant, consuming lust for her, pissed at Olivia for letting R.J. treat her like crap, and pissed that a man could be such an unworthy bastard to a sweet, gorgeous wife. He clenched his fist. Punching R.J. would have felt damned good.

He scowled at the slack line swaying with the current. He’d even lost the mood to fish. He finished the first beer and popped the second. The heat beat over his skin. Out on the flat shimmering blue, a boat and skier flew downriver.

No waterskiing this year. Maybe ever. Well, not the same. He’d been mulling ways to get back up on the water. He just had to experiment until he found what would work. Only, relearning to ski guaranteed falls, and the falling shit…The unending anxiety knotted in his chest. Hell.

No more jumping. The permanent damage to his leg and back made that a real never. Or, as one wiseass doctor had joked, he could jump all he wanted, just couldn’t ever land.

No more firefighting. No job. No more hands-on, head-on fighting the beast that haunted his oldest nightmares.

No more running. No more a lot of shit. Ever.

Rattling shakes and nausea ambushed him. He pressed the beer can to his forehead, focusing on the cold, sweating aluminum and fighting for control. He’d always figured he was too hardheaded to get PTSD, but hello hell.

No one had done anything wrong on that last flight. Couldn’t even blame an arsonist for the call-out. Mother Nature had screwed them all the way, from the dry forest and lightning-sparked fire to the capricious winds that had downed them.

Shit happens. People die. Pull your act together, Knight.

Right. He was a little fucked up, but he was alive and on his boat on a beautiful July day. Gonzalez, Nash, and Miller weren’t so lucky.

None of this solved the complication of Olivia. Every sight of her soft lips, those deep eyes, shot him right back to Vegas and those stolen kisses. This was the wrong time in his life to want a woman. Later, when he’d pulled his shit together. Olivia was through and through the wrong woman to want.

But damn it, logic didn’t stop the wanting.