didn’t look as competent with less rope to deal with, bailing hard after two passes. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat until she heard his laugh echo on the water. Andrew didn’t waste any time getting Tavish back up and heading in the direction of her dock.
She cursed her brother’s efficiency. Tavish in a wetsuit five hundred yards out had heated her to the point of needing to jump in the chilly lake. Said man, plus said wetsuit, but minus four-hundred and ninety-nine yards might get her on the evening news for proving spontaneous combustion wasn’t a myth.
The boat ripped by, and he let go of the rope. He was nice enough not to spray her. As a teenager, he’d been able to drench the entire public dock without getting his hair wet. She imagined he hadn’t lost that talent. Then again, had he sprayed her, it might have saved her a load of embarrassment by killing the flush she knew had crept up her cheeks. He knew how to read her. Would know what her pink face meant.
Lauren bent down at the edge of the dock to catch his ski and shook her head in disbelief. “The lake’s freezing and the sun is barely up.”
“I don’t see any ice.” With a powerful stroke, he pushed his ski toward her. It skimmed into her waiting hands.
He climbed up the ladder just as she lifted the ski out of the lake, bringing her gaze within inches of the pull of his violet eyes.
She straightened, breaking away from the hypnotizing effect he had on her brain. “You’re not supposed to get stitches wet. Plus, the strain could tear them.”
“Drew and I made a waterproof dressing.”
“And tearing?”
He grinned cockily. “I’m a risk taker.”
They were interrupted by the rumbling of the boat as Andrew maneuvered it up to the dock and cut the engine. He turned down the dial on the stereo, lowering the volume on the country song blasting out of the speakers by half.
She smiled at her brother, then shook her head at Tavish. “You’re a dumbass.”
Tavish laughed and scrubbed the water from his hair. A few chilly droplets landed on Lauren’s cheeks. She was surprised they didn’t evaporate on contact.
“Nice welcome there, Laur.” Andrew raised a teasing eyebrow as he shoved up his sunglasses.
“One of the many services I provide.” Lauren grinned. Mackenzie tossed her the bow rope and she fastened the length around one of the cleats.
“We figured you wouldn’t be busy,” Mackenzie said as Andrew hopped out of the boat and proceeded to offer both his hands to help her to the dock. “We can hold off on the pew bows for an hour or two. Garnet’s covering for Andrew this morning.”
An hour or two. Doable. Right?
But Lauren had been wrong about Tavish one too many times to believe her own bravado.
Smiling stiffly at her siblings, she tried to ignore her ex-husband as he peeled off his wetsuit.
She failed miserably. There were things a girl could forget in her life. Tavish’s ripped abdominals, marred only by a faded appendectomy scar, didn’t qualify. But they didn’t look exactly the same as they had the last time she’d seen him shirtless—a tattoo wrapped his torso under his left arm, a watercolor nature scene bleeding out of a bold diamond-shaped frame. The bottom of the frame dipped below the waistband of his navy-and-white surfing shorts. The scene looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline from mountain peak to stream.
Admiring Tavish’s taut stomach, another urge built deep in Lauren’s belly.
She fought that, too.
Mackenzie tossed him a towel, and he dried the water droplets clinging to the butterscotch-colored hair sprinkled on his well-formed chest.
Lauren jerked her gaze away. “Cadie, is Ben with Dad?” she asked, referring to her sister’s baby son.
Her sister nodded. “They headed off to see some of the new horses at Auntie Georgie’s ranch for the day.” Doting on Ben became a downright family competition at times. Parenting solo had been that much harder given Cadie had been recently widowed when Ben was born, so everyone pitched in when they could. “We brought chocolate croissants, Laur. Thought we’d have a bite to eat and then do some more skiing.”
Accompanied by Tavish’s perfectly formed pecs. Great. Drawing from the same well of determination as when she dealt with bodily fluids at the clinic, she forced her lips into a grin and reached for the box of pastries. “I’ll take these up to the patio table and go put on a pot of coffee. Want me to boil some water for herbal tea, Kenz?”
“Please,” Mackenzie replied, eyes slightly narrowed. She’d glanced between Tavish and Lauren more than once since getting out of the boat.
Lauren beat a hasty retreat to her kitchen. She had to do a better job of hiding her reactions to Tavish over breakfast.
For the next twenty minutes she sipped her coffee, munched on a croissant and participated in small talk. She even did a decent job of keeping her eyes on her food and off the way Tavish’s arms bulged under his T-shirt.
Setting down his empty coffee cup with emphasis, Andrew looked at her with a cheeky smile. “You going to try to beat my slalom-course record today, Laur?”
“I just may.” She grinned back, feeling in her element for the first time since Tavish showed up for stitches yesterday. Skiing, she could do. She ran into her house to grab her wetsuit and skis, early hour and ex-husbands be damned.
When she returned, Cadie and Mackenzie had taken up residence in the pair of cushioned lounge chairs on the dock. Her brother sat sideways in the driver’s seat of his boat, sandals propped on the passenger’s dashboard. Tavish straddled the port-side gunwale, one bare foot in the boat and one on the dock. All long limbs and straining T-shirt and way too delicious.
As Lauren strolled down the gangplank with her ski in one hand and her life jacket in the other, she caught him watching her. His throat bobbed. Yeah, she knew she looked good in her wetsuit. The neoprene enhanced each one of her curves. A thrill zipped through her body that he’d noticed.
“I’m up next,” she announced. “I want to see what my new ski can do.”
“I think it’s more the skier than the ski, Laur.” Tavish raked a hand through his hair. Sunlight reflected off the twisted gold-and-silver links of a bracelet on his left wrist. “When was the last time you went out?”
“Last weekend.” She walked to the end of the dock, watching him with a confident eye as she sprayed lubricant in the bindings and slid her feet in.
“I don’t remember you being that into waterskiing,” he said, sounding puzzled.
She mimicked the cocky grin he’d sent her way when he’d skied up to the dock. “That’s what happens when you stay away—people change. And learn how to trounce you on the slalom course.” She sat on the edge of the dock, both feet secure in midcalf-high boots, and held her hand out for the tow rope.
“You want this length?” Tavish’s eyes widened. The rope was still the length
