change that.” He said the words to convince himself. She was changing—right before his eyes, she was growing up.
A coyote howled in the distance, and the sound pulled him from his thoughts. The stars were popping out, too. Guess he best say what he’d come to say so she could get back to her party. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the leather pouch. “I...ah...have a little something for you—for luck.”
Her eyes took on a sparkle. A birthday present?
“Call it that if you want. Been carryin’ it for a while. It’s not much.” He handed her the pouch.
She loosened the drawstring cord and upended the bag. The necklace he’d had made slid into her waiting palm—a swirl of silver and abalone in the warm twilight. He watched for her reaction.
Her eyes opened wide in recognition.
She remembered. Unaccountably pleased, he said, “I’ve had that piece of shell with me ever since we found it on the beach. Been my good-luck piece. Figured it was your turn to have it.”
It...it is lovely. Will you put it on me?
She handed him the necklace and flounced around on the swing, turning her back to him. The movement wafted her flowery perfume up to fill his nose. His gaze slid down the gentle slope of her neck and farther to her shoulders. He’d never seen so much soft, creamy skin. Queer sensations pooled in his stomach as he circled the silver chain around her head. A tendril of hair danced in the breeze where he needed to lock the clasp. He leaned close and blew it out of the way.
She inhaled sharply.
He smiled at her reaction and then leaned in to tease her. “Goose bumps?”
She didn’t indicate she’d heard. In fact, she was mighty quiet. And goose bumps had formed on her upper arms. His fingers stilled in their task. He’d only meant to move the hair out of the way. After all, this was Hannah. He hadn’t given any thought to his actions being more than that. Suddenly they were. Suddenly they seemed...intimate.
He finished locking the silver clasp and pulled back. “Done.”
Hannah fingered the pendant as she turned to him. The gleaming shell rested just above the rose-colored satin neckline of her dress. He liked the way it sat there all shimmery on her smooth skin. “It’s not emeralds...or pearls....”
I have those things. It... She stilled her hands and then started over. This is special. It means a lot to me.
She leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek.
Drawing back, she stopped close enough for her breath to tickle his skin. Gray eyes, large and luminous, blinked up at him. Her nearness set his entire body to thrummin’—not exactly the reaction he’d expected.
“You’re sure sayin’ a lot for someone who can’t talk,” he mumbled, unable to look away. They were friends—practically brother and sister. And she was way too young to be lookin’ at him like that. To give in to the urge forming—the urge to kiss her properly—would change things between them forever. He should get up and walk away right now, put some distance between them before he did something stupid.
Trouble was, his head told him one thing and his heart said another. And the second was drowning out the first. So he sat there like a dang fool, caught betwixt and between. Those pretty gray eyes of hers grew bigger, and she tilted her face up. His heart lurched to a new rhythm in his chest. Apparently the little lady was wantin’ the same thing. A fool he might be, but he didn’t need to be asked twice.
He slid his hat from his head, barely conscious of the motion. Then, leaning forward, he tested the waters—a quick brush of his lips to hers. When she didn’t pull back, he took her by the shoulders and bent down to her mouth—careful to keep the kiss light. A birthday kiss. A sweet-sixteen birthday kiss. Gentle. Chaste. Her lashes swept down, and likewise he let himself enjoy the moment. She had the softest lips he’d ever felt, the smoothest skin he’d ever touched.
And she was an innocent. She trembled under his mouth, stiff and a bit awkward in a way only first kisses can be. That she’d chosen to share her first kiss with him humbled him. It was a gift—the gift of herself.
He broke contact and then brushed her forehead with a parting kiss, murmuring against her skin, “Happy birthday, Hannah.”
When he pulled back, heightened color stained her cheeks, and her gaze was slightly out of focus.
Well, he was right there with her—in as much shock as she. Imagine that.
The tap of metal clicked on the flagstone path. “Hannah!” Dorian’s harsh voice boomed through the garden.
Reluctantly, Caleb released her and stood to face her grandfather.
Dorian made his way toward them until he stopped three feet before them. Quietly, Hannah stood. Dorian took in the pendant she wore, took in her flushed face and cut a barbed look to Caleb before addressing his granddaughter. “You are ignoring your guests. Please, return to the house immediately.”
Caleb glanced toward the front door. The partiers had wandered onto the open marble landing at the top of the steps and stared out over the railing, curiosity splashed across their faces. On the path behind Dorian, Rachel, large and awkward with child, hurried forward, followed by her husband, Stuart.
Rachel rushed up and hugged him fiercely. “You’re here! When did you arrive? Did you stop at the house?”
He squeezed her tentatively, in awe of her changed form. “Hi, sis. Yes, I left my things there.”
“Oh, it’s been too long this time.” She sniffled, and he saw the start of tears forming in her eyes.
Uncomfortable with the display of emotion, he turned to his brother-in-law, reading the dark bent of his expression. Tread carefully, it said. Rachel didn’t need any worries, and an argument between him and Dorian wouldn’t do her any good.
“Don’t mind me. Really,” Rachel said, blinking away her tears. “It’s just something to do with being in a family way. I seem to cry at the drop of a hat.”
He grinned at that. Seemed women could always muster up a good cry—sometimes in honest feeling and sometimes only to manipulate. He’d experienced both. “Guess I interrupted quite a party. I’ll head to the house and you come on back when you’re good and ready.” Turning to Hannah, he resettled his hat on his head and tugged the brim down. “Your grandfather is right. Your guests are waiting.”
Hannah pouted but moved her hands gracefully in answer. Thank you for the gift. You’ll come by tomorrow?
Caleb caught the smoldering anger in Dorian’s eye. “Sure. Tomorrow evening.”
She smiled, reassured, and turned down the stone path to the house.
The moment she was out of earshot, Dorian faced him squarely. “Please don’t make contact with Hannah again.”
“I’d say that’s up to Hannah, Mr. Lansing.”
Rachel’s face blanched.
“You will honor my wishes with my
