I thought everyone else knew more than I did. I thought I needed to listen to their advice, that I had to believe them when they told me I was doing it all wrong. I let them mold me, even when the voices in the back of my head were screaming no. In the end, I didn't pick up my paintbrushes for three years.”
“That's a long time to stay away from something you love.” He knew firsthand.
“It wasn't until I arrived here last October, when I unpacked my easel and put it on your grandparents' porch, that I realized I had it in me all along.”
Ginger's words dug in right behind his solar plexus. It was just what the Forest Service had been telling him for so long. That he wasn't good enough anymore. That he needed to listen to their advice and train for something else.
“Ginger,” he said, unable to keep from closing the gap between them despite his best intentions, “I-”
The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud explosion from the beach.
“Someone must be lighting off fireworks in front of the cabin.”
He ran through the rest of the trees and found the kids just off to the right of Poplar Cove's beach.
Isabel's property. The woman who'd been his father's girlfriend.
“Those fireworks are illegal.”
The two teenage boys barely looked up at him. “Dude, it's July Fourth. We're just having a little fun.” The girl, however, looked a little worried.
He held out one hand. “Give me the rest. I'll get rid of them for you.”
But instead of giving them to him, the dark-haired kid flicked open a lighter and started to light one.
Connor had the back of the kid's neck in a death grip so fast, the kid dropped the almost-lit firework to the sand.
“Anyone ever told you why these are illegal?”
The kid shrugged, still trying to act brave. “Let go of me.”
“This one,” Connor said, not letting go of the boy as he picked up the charred remains of one of the fireworks,
“usually blows off a finger or two.” He picked up another wrapping. “But this one.” He whistled low. “This one is a real beauty. Has a tendency to pop open from the back and explode in your face. Usually blinds you, although sometimes, after enough surgeries, if you're lucky you don't go completely blind.”
“Shit, man,” the scared kid said to his friend, “you said these were safe.”
Deciding he'd done all he could to scare them, Connor let the bolder kid wriggle away.
“This old dude is just trying to scare us. He's probably making this stuff up.”
Connor shrugged and said, “It's up to you if you want to find out for yourself,” but the kids were already running up the beach, leaving the fireworks behind.
He picked up the wrappers, then turned around and crashed into Ginger. He had to drop the fireworks to grab her rib cage to keep her from falling. They stood like that for several seconds, both of them breathing hard.
She looked mad as hell. “You scared Josh and his friends half to death, Connor.”
“Good.”
“They're just kids.”
“Doesn't mean they can get away with acting stupid.”
“That's what kids do, Connor! They make mistakes and they learn from them.”
“Since you already know everything, why don't you tell me what happens if the mistake is too big? If one of these fireworks takes something away from them, something they'd never thought to lose? What then?”
Her hands moved to his face, holding him still, calming him as she would a wild animal.
“I know how bad it must have hurt. How bad it still does. But it's going to be okay, Connor. One day soon. It has to be.”
A violent boom of thunder in the dark sky above them was their only warning as rain began to pour down on them.
“At least now you don't have to worry about fireworks anymore.”
“Not that kind, anyway,” he said, then bent his head down to hers.
Her lips were soft, so damn soft that he wanted to devour her, starting with her mouth and running down to her br**sts, but even so, he was working like hell to get hold of himself, to stop before things got really out of control.
And then, her tongue moved against his, and he was a goner.
Sparks of heat worked through him as she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down closer to kiss him, her tongue moving in time with his, her br**sts pressed against his chest. She moaned softly against his mouth and all he could think was that she felt so good in his hands, just the way a woman should feel, soft warmth instead of sharp bones and harsh angles.
As his hands moved over her hips, to her waist, you would have thought four days was four years, he wanted her so bad. She gasped when his fingers found bare skin at the base of her shirt and he wanted to forget his vow to stay away from her, wanted to forget everything but pleasure.
But even as his extreme passion for her threatened to take over everything else, he knew he needed to give her one last chance to walk away.
“We shouldn't do this. I don't have anything to give to you, Ginger. Nothing at all.”
Ginger couldn't catch her breath. Connor seemed to know her body better than she did. He knew just where she wanted to be stroked, just how she wanted to be kissed. Four days of pent-up longing overflowed inside of her as she breathed in his scent, earthy from the wood he'd been working with, as clean and fresh as the cold rain on his warm skin.
Somewhere through the fog she'd heard him say they should stop, that he couldn't make her any promises. But she didn't believe him. Not way down deep in her heart.
He needed her. Needed her to wrap her arms around him and show him someone cared. She couldn't run, couldn't turn her back on him.
“Take me back to your room. To your bed.”
But instead of doing what she'd asked him to, he simply brushed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. She realized his hands were shaking — my God, had anyone ever wanted her this much? — and she pressed a kiss onto the scarred skin covering the tip, her tongue swirling as she sucked him in between her lips.
“I promised you I wouldn't do this,” he said, his voice hoarse. Rough with desire.
“I don't want your noble vow, Connor. I want this. I want you. I've never felt this way with anyone else. I want to explore it. Please, just for one night, don't be the hero.”