Give And Take: Taken Part 4

"You're thirty-two!"

"I'm a billionaire." You sit forward and pick up your rod, reel in the line and cast it back out. "None of it matters, anyway. What does it mean to own a bunch of buildings?"

"You're not old enough to have a mid-life crisis, you know." I nudge you again, but you don't respond. "It has whatever meaning you give it."

You rub the stubble on your jaw. "Yeah. I guess that's the problem. It doesn't mean much anymore. It's just...empty. I don't know. It doesn't make me happy anymore. Maybe it never did."

"This place makes you happy, so you're ready to chuck it all in for a rundown hotel and a canoe?"

You close your eyes and nod. "I don't want the compet.i.tion anymore, the back-stabbing, the rumors. It's so peaceful here without all of that."

What's happened to you to make you want to throw it all away? "It's a big decision." Your whole life has had to have been wrapped up in your business to make it what it is today.

Your eyes open, and you lean toward me. "That's another reason I had to have you here. You know how to make hard decisions-even ones that tear you up inside, like turning down a job you really want. I need you to help me make mine."

I rise back up on my bench so we're eye-to-eye. "I can't help you make that decision, Merrick. I barely know you."

You take a strand of my hair and pluck out a leaf. Our hair and eye coloring are so similar; we could be brother and sister. Only the heat I feel at your touch isn't sisterly at all. "We've only just started our time here together," you say, flicking the leaf in the water. "You'll know me well enough soon."

"How long will I be here?" You make it sound like this is an extended stay for both of us.

"A few weeks." You lean back again and pick up your pole. "This time."

"I can't..." Before I finish saying I can't stay, I realize that I can. I'm not missing anything at home. My interns.h.i.+p-my interns.h.i.+p sucked anyway. I haven't found a job yet after turning you down.

You eye me across the boat. "You can. I made sure of it."

I've never been free to do whatever I want. From the time I was old enough to take the dance cla.s.ses my mom signed me up for, through college at the university she and dad chose-close to home-through the past few years trying to intern and help my mom care for my dad after his cancer diagnosis. Then he pa.s.sed away and she was so lonely. I couldn't leave her. My time, my choices have never been my own.

"Do you resent having to answer to everyone else?" You're staring at me, very perceptive of my feelings. Too perceptive.

"Sometimes. Then I feel guilty." Your bobber dips underwater and pops back up. I smack your leg and point. "You got one!"

"No way." You jerk the line and start reeling it in. "I never catch anything. You must be my lucky charm." You wink at me and pull an ugly green-brown fish out of the water. "Big mouth ba.s.s."

I grab the net and hold it out for you. Once the fish is in the boat, you take the hook out and plop him in a rusty bucket with some lake water. "You're keeping it?" It stares up at me with a big, googly eye, its gills flaring.

"I told you, we're eating it tonight." Your head joins mine over the bucket. "Mmm, mmm. Good eatin'."

Laughter erupts from my belly. "Are you sure you're a billionaire business G.o.d?"

Your laughter joins mine. "I did sound like I real swamp-man just then, didn't I?"

"If you do stay here, you'll fit in nicely with the neighbors." I put a hand up, shading my eyes. "If there are any in a hundred mile radius." I drop my hand and shrug. "You can always fly them in."

"Nah. Too pretentious. I'll stick with the canoe." You sit and cast the line back out. "Let's see if your luck holds."

Turning on my bench, I glance out across the water, scanning in all directions. There is so much untamed green-trees, lilies, sea gra.s.s-it's like we're pioneers who trekked out here and discovered this secluded spot.

A firefly wisps by my head, hovers like a helicopter between us, then darts away. How can you mesh your life of luxury with one on a deserted island?

You reel the line in a little and prop your foot up on the side of the boat. Every wall that stood between us before has vanished. You're still a stranger, but at the same time, you're not, and my curiosity is getting the better of me. "Tell me more about yourself. All I know is the business side from interviews in magazines and online articles. I don't know anything about you as a person."

"Want to get personal, huh?" Your eyes sparkle with light reflecting off the water. The look in them clearly shows me how personal you'd like to get. "What do you want to know?"

"What about your sister? How old is she? What's her name? Do you have any other siblings?" The questions burst out of me. For a second, my eagerness embarra.s.ses me, and I take another glimpse of our surroundings to pull my eyes from yours.

"Her name's Heidi. She's three years younger than me, and no, I don't have any other siblings."

I face you again and lift my brows, encouraging you to keep talking.

You tilt your head and almost smile. "n.o.body ever asks about my family. All I am is a figure in a bank account or a signature on a paycheck." Leaning forward, you run your hand down my arm. "Thank you for asking."

I can't figure out if this is another one of your attempts at changing the topic, but I won't let you this time. "Do you get along with her? Heidi?"

You sit back and rub your hands on your shorts. "We get along. We don't talk much."

"Why?" You run a hand through your hair. My questions make you nervous. "You don't like talking about yourself, do you?" I ask.

Leaning your elbows on your knees, you gaze at me, resignation crossing your eyes. "I'm not used to it, but I will. For you, I will." Your throat ripples as you swallow. "Heidi's husband and I don't get along. He doesn't think I'm a good influence, so she doesn't contact me very often."

"Why does he think that way? Did something happen?" Does he know you drug and kidnap woman, take them to an island and wine and dine them, offer them everything they've ever wanted?

I blink and keep my eyes closed for a second to stop the swirling mix of thoughts and emotions in my head.

"Nothing really happened. She got married, and after they had my niece and nephew, he thought I was pus.h.i.+ng my work ethic onto Heidi every time I called to discuss business or ask her to travel to one of our properties away from home. Eventually, she left the business. She still has the three apartment buildings our grandpa left her, and I bought out her percentage of owners.h.i.+p of the business. Now we only talk on holidays."

"That seems extreme." Growing up an only child, I can't imagine how great it would be to have a brother or sister. Nothing would keep me from having a relations.h.i.+p with them.

You watch your foot slide back and forth in a puddle of water in the bottom of the boat. "My brother-in-law told me I was hurting her, that my expectations were too high and she felt like she was always letting me down. He said I didn't have any obligations, like a wife and kids, so I didn't understand what I was putting her through."

Your eyes meet mine, and there's so much pain in them, they make my chest ache.

"He said," you continue, "I keep taking and taking from her, but never give back. She needed me to give her understanding and patience. I didn't know how. I lost her."

"You didn't lose her," I say without thinking. There's no way for me to know if you have or not.

Sitting up and taking a deep breath, you take the fis.h.i.+ng rod and reel the line in a little. "What other questions do you have for me?"

I'm almost afraid to ask, but if you're inviting transparency, then I'm not backing off. "You've never mentioned your mom."

"She died when I was seven. Cancer." You reel the line in a little more.

After my dad's year-long battle with cancer, I know all about losing someone you love to that evil monster. "I'm sorry. You were so young to lose her."

Your shoulders quirk, not quite a shrug. I can't let you bottle up again.

"What was she like?"

Your throat contracts again as you swallow. My questions aren't getting easier for you to answer. "She was fun. She laughed a lot. She always smelled like the lilacs that grew outside my bedroom window." You blink a few times, and your eyes are misty. "She always said I gave the best hugs."

I have the sudden urge to know all about those hugs-to comfort you. "She sounds like a great mom."

"Yeah," you sigh and tug the line. "What else?"

"Is your father still alive?" Might as well keep diving straight into the deep water.

"Oh, he's alive all right. He's suing me for what he claims is his right to a percentage of the business he was too busy to take over from my grandpa."

I can't believe my ears. "Your father is suing you?" It's incredible-unimaginable.

"Has been for years. I refuse to settle, and he refuses to give up."

"That's insane."

"I'm glad someone sees my side." You jerk the line and start reeling fast. "Got another one. You truly are lucky."

Watching your arms flex as you land the fish, I can't help but wonder what your relations.h.i.+ps with your family have done to you. Are you simply misunderstood? Lonely? Hurting? "Have you tried to make things better with your dad or Heidi?"

You gesture to the net, and I pick it up to help. "I don't know how to make things better, Rachael."

"Maybe I can..." What am I offering? To be your friend? Why? I don't owe you anything but animosity. "Maybe I can help you figure it out." It's too late to turn back. I can't help how I feel, even if my brain is telling me I'm stupid for feeling this way.

You freeze with the fish in your hand and study my face. You're as surprised by my offer as I am. "I'd like that."

For a moment my heart speeds with the strong pull between us, but I nudge your hand with the net and your attention finds its way back to the fish on your line.

I'm treading in emotional quicksand with you-up to my knees with no way out.

Paddling back to the boathouse, the sky grows dark and sheets of rain race toward us across the water. "We're going to get wet," you say.

Lightening slices the sky. A crack of thunder makes me jump. "I hate storms."

"We'll be off the lake soon." I watch you paddle, wis.h.i.+ng there was another so I could help us get back faster.

The wind blows so hard, trees bend. Another flash of lightening blinds the sky, and thunder rumbles overtop of us. A loud mechanical noise hums and echoes. "What's that?"

"Backup generator." Your chest flexes and contracts with each stroke. Taking you in, my fear is instantly replaced with a rush of desire only to be yanked back by another jolt of lightening.

We hit the sh.o.r.e. You grab the bucket of fish, rod and tackle box. I hop out of the canoe and run as fast as I can for the boathouse.

Inside, it's dark and musty. We pant, catching our breath. "Guess we wait it out in here," you say, hauling the fish to a small wooden table underneath a window in the back. "Wonder if I can find a knife in here to clean these."

You search shelves and corners while I dig through the tackle box, finally coming up with a small paring knife. "Will this work?" I hold it up for you to see.

"Perfect." Your fingers run over mine when you take it from me. My stomach tightens, my skin p.r.i.c.kles. My body responds to your touch more than I want it to.

From behind, I watch you clean fish in silhouette, blocking most of the dim light streaming in the window. A loud crash of thunder has me taking a few strides closer to you.

"It's okay," you say, looking at me over your shoulder. "This place has been here a long time. I doubt that this is the day it'll fall down around us."

"I hope not." But now that you've put the thought into my head, it's the only thing I can think of. "How would we know if this was a hurricane?"

You filet one of the fish and toss the bones aside. "It's not a hurricane. Just a storm. It'll pa.s.s." After setting the knife on the table, you hold your hands out. "I don't have a towel or anything. Guess I should've thought about this before getting my hands covered with fish guts." With a quick swoop over your head, your chest is bare and you're wiping your hands on your t-s.h.i.+rt.

Lightning flashes on your skin through the window making you look like Adonis-or Zeus with his lightning bolts, but not simply a man. Your tan shorts hang low on your hips, your six-pack abs lead to a defined V like an arrow to follow down past your fly where my eyes can't follow. But they want to. They so want to.

"We need to make a run for it," I say. You have to get a s.h.i.+rt on that body before I lose all control.

You chuckle. "A minute ago you were afraid we were stuck in a hurricane. Now you want to run out in the middle of it?"

I hold up a finger and watch the window. "Wait. Let's see how far away the storm is now." When the lightning flashes again, I start counting. "One, one-thousand, two, one- thousand--"

"What are you doing?" You look at me like I'm a circus act.

"Shh. Three, one-thousand, four, one-thousand, five--" Thunder rumbles. "It's one mile away. We can make it."

You glance at the window, then back at me. "What did you just do?"

"You count the seconds between the lightning and thunder then divide by five. That's the distance to the storm. You've never heard of this?"

One side of your mouth twists up, revealing a dimple. "Never. Must be something you learned at Girl Scout camp that one time." You dip your s.h.i.+rt into the bucket of lake water where you'd stashed the fish in the boat. When it's soaking wet, you wrap the filets in it. "Let's run for it then. Want to race?"

You dart by me and out the door, your laughter drowning in the distant thunder. I sprint after you, rain pelting down on us soaking our clothes and hair. You look back over your shoulder, then slow and turn around, jogging backward. "Come on slow poke!"

If I wasn't afraid of stepping on a snake or cutting my foot on a sharp rock, I'd take your flip-flops off and throw them at you. Lightning streaks across the sky, jutting down into a tree across the island. Thunder rips through the sky and shakes the ground. I cry out and curse under my breath, calling you every name I can think of.

You run back to me. "I think your counting may have been off. This storm is right on top of us. Hop on." You turn around and bend down for me to climb on your back. I do, without hesitation and bury my face into your neck. I don't want to see or hear the storm for one more second. We could be struck down right here in the tall gra.s.s and mud and n.o.body would ever find us.

"Hurry," I whisper, clutching your shoulders so tight my fingers are numb.

I close my eyes and bounce up and down on your back as you run. Your fingers clutch my thighs, holding me tight to your body. I won't let myself think about how good it feels to cling to you, to wrap my legs around you and have your hands on me.

I focus on the sound of your feet pounding on the ground, the rain blowing down and the thunder. Suddenly, it seems like a good idea if it stormed all night. G.o.d knows I'm going to need a distraction if tonight is anything like last night.

Chapter Seven.