“A warm-up. Right.”
“Yeah. Right.” She left no room for misunderstanding in her voice.
“Okay.” He didn’t sound at all convinced as he tossed her the rope and sat on the passenger side of the boat with his feet resting on the carpeted engine cover.
Andrew turned to Tavish. “Ten bucks says you eat your words.”
Tavish snorted. “Done.”
Within a minute they roared away from the dock. Lauren channeled her frustration over Tavish’s doubt into cutting back and forth across the wake until they entered the slalom course. Then all thoughts of her ex-husband disappeared as she focused on leaning against the rope, flying back and forth. Releasing her outside arm as she rounded each ball, then pulling the rope in tight to her hip as she turned in the other direction, she did her best to send up a cascade of water twice the size of Tavish’s.
As she cut around the third ball of six, she let out a whoop—she’d beaten Tavish’s performance. Ha. Her competitive streak hadn’t kicked in this strong in a while. She’d blame him for that, too. He was already at fault for stealing away the peace of her morning; what was one more charge?
Successfully reaching the end of the course, Lauren held up a palm in a stop signal. Andrew slowed the boat to an idle, and she sank into the water.
“Take the rope in, Tavish,” she called.
“Seriously?” His voice lifted in surprise. “Twenty-eight feet off is damn tough.”
“And I’m damn good.” Satisfaction spread through her at being able to bring the glow of amazement into Tavish’s eyes. “Change the rope. And hurry up. Pretty sure I can feel ice crystals in my capillaries.”
“Don’t get testy. I just didn’t know you were trying to go pro.” Tavish unhooked the rope and refastened it, six feet shorter.
“I beat you. Now I need to do the same for Andrew.” Lauren took a breath and gripped the rope handle. She’d have to stretch out parallel to the water to get around any of the balls—her five feet and one scant inch worked against her at this point.
“Ready, Lauren?” Andrew called.
“Hit it.” Lauren tucked and let the boat pull her out of the water.
She quickly adjusted to the short rope. The heat of temper buzzed in her muscles as she stretched out toward the first ball. Releasing the handle with one hand, she cut around the obstacle. Inches from the surface of the lake, she somehow managed to pull herself up with enough time to repeat the feat on the other side. Her arms and quads screamed at her. She forced her body to submit one last time but that was it. Muscles totally gassed, she ripped back toward the middle of the wake where she stayed instead of trying for the remaining balls. That tied her brother’s personal best—she’d beat him by the end of the summer. And surpassing Tavish tasted too sweet to fuss about Andrew’s record. Tapping her head with the palm of her hand to signal she wanted to head home, she made lazy passes all the way back to the dock.
Cadie and Mackenzie clapped loudly as she let go of the rope and sank into the water. She shimmied out of her ski and propelled it toward Cadie, who waited for it on the dock. “My turn!” her sister announced, getting ready to enter the water.
Tavish climbed out of the boat, and Mackenzie took his place as spotter, and then Andrew gunned the engine once more.
Lauren busied herself drying off and slipping back into her yoga pants, not happy to be left alone with her ex-husband, who stood by the ladder. With his back to her and his arms crossed, she could only guess that he was feeling the same. But she wasn’t in a hurry to find out if she was right on that. The out-in-the-wide-open dock smothered like a musty closet.
By the time she acknowledged him with a quiet “Pretty sure you owe Andrew ten bucks,” the boat was at the far end of the lake.
Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, he stretched out his long legs. He linked his fingers behind his head and fixed her with an inquisitive look. “You trying to prove something out there?”
“Maybe.” She sat down on the other deck chair and snuggled against the backrest. “Guess I wanted to remind you that just because I’m a homebody doesn’t mean I’m boring.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Pixie, I haven’t had a boring moment with you once.”
Pixie? Oh, God. He’d started calling her that back in high school once he’d officially surpassed her by a full foot. It had made her laugh then, so she’d put up with it. After she broke up with him—college plus distance did not mix—he’d stopped using the endearment. Until he and Andrew had crashed her friends-only trip to Vegas to celebrate her finishing her residency. He’d confessed to still loving her, to wanting to make it work. And she’d loved him enough to try to compromise. Once they’d exchanged vows, he’d added “Pixie” back into his lexicon.
Usually when he was trying to get her out of her clothes.
Then again, “I love you” had worked like a charm, too. But it had only taken a couple of weeks to learn no compromise was enough to keep that love alive.
He pressed his lips together and looked away. Was he as tortured by the memory as she? He deserved to be, damn it.
“Quite the place you found,” he ground out.
Glancing up at the sparkling glass and stained logs, Lauren smiled. “I bought it in the fall.”
His eyes turned serious. “I’m surprised you’re this far out of town, though. Given how you insisted you wanted to stay close to your dad and Cadie.”
“Just because I want to be close to them doesn’t mean I need to live next door.” Glaring at him, she pressed her water-chilled hands against her too-hot cheeks.
He got a near-apologetic look on his face. “Or maybe they don’t need you as much as you claim they do.”
The heat in her face spread down her neck, spiraled into her belly and legs. She dropped her hands, clenched her fingers. “I’m less than a half hour away. That’s pretty fricking close.”
“And if we’d been somewhere else and they’d needed you, you could have—” He sighed. “Never mind. I needed to talk to you about—”
“We’ve done enough talking.”
“I—” He shifted his gaze to the end of the lake, where the boat had turned around. The hum of the engine reached a crescendo as it approached. “I guess it can wait. So, you were pretty impressive to watch out there.”
She wanted to insult his own performance to regain a fighting position in their spar, but couldn’t, not when any insult would be a lie. “You, too,” she admitted.
His expression flickered with amusement. “Was that so hard?”
“No.” Some lies were worth the guilt. She pivoted, feeling stronger facing him head-on, and rubbed her hands together to try to increase the blood flow to her ice-cold fingertips. Sometimes she could forget, could go back to when she was seventeen and he was eighteen and they had all summer to flirt and gibe. Other times, the pain of his desertion—and the knowledge
