Whiskey Beach Part 7

"I was fifteen, and while I had been kissed, that was the first kiss. Tongues and hands and heavy breathing. Let me say first, the boy had most excellent lips, and very nice hands. The first, I'll also admit, to touch these amazing ta-tas." She patted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s then sipped her wine. "But not the last."

"Details, details."

"July Fourth, after the fireworks. We had a bonfire on the beach. A bunch of us. I had permission, which was hard-won, let me tell you, and which my kids will likely have a harder time winning due to my experience. He was so cute. Oh my G.o.d, Eli Landon up from Boston for a month-and I set my sights on him. I was not alone."

"How cute?"

"Mmm. That curling hair that would get more sun-streaked every day, those fabulous crystal blue eyes. And he had a smile that would just knock you senseless. An athletic build-he played basketball, as I remember. If he wasn't at the beach-s.h.i.+rtless-he was at the community center playing ball-s.h.i.+rtless. Let me repeat: Mmm."

"He's lost weight," Abra mentioned. "He's too thin."

"I saw some pictures, and the news clips. Yeah, he's too thin. But then, that summer? He was so beautiful, so young and happy and fun. I flirted my b.u.t.t off and that July Fourth bonfire paid the dividends. The first time he kissed me we were sitting around the fire. Music banging out, some of us dancing, some of us in the water. One thing led to another, and we walked down to the pier."

She sighed with the memory. "Just a couple of hormonal teenagers on a warm summer night. It didn't go any farther than it should have-though I'm sure my father would have disagreed-but it was the headiest moment of my life to that date. Seems so sweet and innocent now, but still ridiculously romantic. Surf and sea and moonlight, music from down the beach, a couple of warm, half-naked bodies just beginning to understand, really, what they were for. So ..."

"So? So?" Leaning forward, Abra circled both hands in a hurry-up gesture. "What happened then?"

"We went back to the bonfire. I think it might have gone farther than it should have if he hadn't taken me back to the group. I was so unprepared for what happens inside your body when someone really flips that switch. You know?"

"Oh boy, do I."

"But he stopped, and after, he walked me home. I saw him a few more times before he went back to Boston, and we had a few more lip-locks-but nothing hit me like the first. The next time he came down, we were both dating someone. We never reconnected, not that way. He probably doesn't even remember that July Fourth with the redhead under the Whiskey Beach pier."

"I bet you're selling yourself short."

"Maybe. If we ran into each other when he'd come up to visit, we'd have a nice little chat-the way you do. Once I ran into him in the market when I was enormously pregnant with Liam. Eli carried my bags out to the car. He's a good man. I believe that."

"You met his wife?"

"No. I saw her once or twice but never met her. She was gorgeous, I'll give her that. But I wouldn't say she was the type who enjoyed those nice little chats outside the market. Word was there was no love lost between her and Hester Landon. Eli came up alone or with the rest of his family a few times after they were married. Then he just didn't come. At least not that I know of."

She looked at her watch. "I've got to get home. Feed the rampaging horde."

"Maybe you should go by and see him."

"I think it might feel like an intrusion at this point-or like I was morbidly curious."

"He needs friends, but you may be right. It may be too soon."

Maureen carried her empty winegla.s.s to the kitchen, set it down. "I know you, Abracadabra. You won't let him wallow, not for long." She pulled on her coat. "It's your nature to fix things, heal things, kiss it where it hurts. Hester knew just what she was doing when she asked you to look after him and the house."

"Then I better not let her down." She gave Maureen a hug before she opened the back door. "Thanks for telling me. Not only a s.e.xy story of teenage l.u.s.t, but it gives me yet another perspective on him."

"You could use a lip-lock or two."

Abra held up her hands. "Fasting."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just saying should the opportunity arise-he's got great lips. See you tomorrow."

Abra watched from the door while her friend hustled through the thick snow, and until she saw the back door light on the house next door shut off.

She'd build a fire, she decided, have a little soup, and give Eli Landon some serious thought.

CHAPTER Three

MAYBE HE'D LOST SOME PROGRESS OVERALL, ELI ADMITTED, but he'd stuck with the book for the best part of the day, and he'd produced there.

If he could keep his brain fired up, he'd write from the time he woke until the time he crashed. And okay, maybe that wasn't healthy, but it would be productive.

Besides, the snow hadn't relented until mid-afternoon. His vow to get out of the house at least once every day had to bow to two feet of snow and counting.

At one point when he simply couldn't think clearly enough to put coherent words on the page, he continued his exploration of the house.

Tidy guest rooms, pristine baths-and to his surprise and puzzlement, the former upstairs parlor, north wing, now held a cross trainer, free weights, a ma.s.sive flat-screen. He wandered the room, frowning at the yoga mats neatly rolled on a shelf, the towels tidily stacked, the large case of DVDs.

He opened that, flipped through the pages. Power yoga? His grandmother? Seriously? Tai chi, Pilates ... Getting Ripped?

Gran?

He tried to imagine it. He had to believe he owned a d.a.m.n good imagination or he'd never make a decent living writing novels. But when he tried to picture his watercoloring, pencil-sketching, garden-clubbing grandmother pumping iron, it failed him.

Yet Hester Landon never did anything without a reason. He couldn't deny the setup and layout of the room showed careful thought and good research.

Maybe she'd decided she needed a convenient place to exercise when, like today, the weather prohibited her famous three-mile daily walks. She could have hired someone to outfit the room.

No, she never did anything without a reason-and she never did anything halfway.

And still he couldn't imagine her sliding in a DVD with the goal of getting ripped.

Idly, he flipped through a couple more DVDs in the case, and found the sticky note.

Eli, regular exercise benefits body, mind and spirit. Now, less brooding and more sweating.

I love you,

Gran via Abra Walsh

"Jesus." He couldn't decide whether to be amused or embarra.s.sed. Just how much had his grandmother told Abra anyway? How about a little privacy?

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the window facing the beach.

While the sea had calmed, it remained gray under a sky the color of a faded bruise. Waves flopped up against the snow-covered beach, slowly, gradually nibbling away at that rippled blanket of white. The white mounds of dunes rose, sea gra.s.ses poked out like needles in a pincus.h.i.+on. They trembled in the wind, bent to the force of its hands.