Read Online Just Married! by Shirley Jump Cara Colter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shirley Jump Cara Colter
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kite out of the sand and inspecting the frame for damage, while he rolled string. “You’re no quitter.”
And then she realized she had spoken the thought out loud, as if he was a candidate to squire their sister, but she realized she was taking herself too seriously when Ethan appeared not to notice the comment at all.
She reminded herself again to just play, to just enjoy the gift of this day. They tried to launch the kite again, and then again.
Ethan tried to bring his fine business mind to the activity: he licked his finger and tried to calculate the strength of the wind, he made adjustments to the frame, he fiddled with the tail. But finally, by magic rather than science, his kite lifted on the wind, took string, pulled upward and stayed.
Then, with one hand holding his kite spool, he had to try to help her get hers in the air. It was his turn to hold the kite, while she ran.
The skirt, thankfully, didn’t hinder her running ability. In fact, she liked the way it felt skimming along her legs, flying up around her as she raced down the sand.
“Faster,” he yelled at her. “Run faster, gypsy woman.”
So, he had noticed the flying skirt, too.
The camisole wasn’t built for athletic activity; the straps were as annoying as the ones on the bridesmaid’s dress had been last night. She nearly lost the kite every time she had to push a strap back up.
Finally, with her gasping like a fish, her kitejoined his in the sky. The kite zinged upward, taking string like a fish on a run.
“Hey,” she yelled at him. “Keep your kite away from me!” If she really meant that, she wouldn’t keep moving back down the sand toward him, but she did, until they stood almost shoulder to shoulder, heads craned back as they maneuvered the kites.
Naturally he took her command to stay away from her kite as a challenge, and he kept bringing his kite recklessly close to hers so that they nearly touched, so that they looked like they were dancing with each other, swaying, dipping, falling, soaring.
It was like watching a mating ritual. And the result was about the same, too.
The kites finally collided, the strings tangled and they fell to the sand like a parachute that had not opened properly.
“You call yours Charlie, and I’ll call mine Amanda,” he said, flopping down on his back in the sand.
Waldo, exhausted from chasing the kites, took up a post beside him, eyeing Ethan with the suspicion of a spinster chaperone, but not growling at him anymore.
Sam flung herself on her back on the sand beside Ethan. The camisole was stuck to her, and her hair was glued to her forehead. The skirt was limp and crushed.
Which was probably how she would feel tomorrow when it sunk in that it was over. But for now, she enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on her, warm with appreciation. She wanted to touch his back again.
It probably felt different naked than it had felt with the shirt on it.
She shoved her renegade hands under her back.
“I’m hot,” he said. “I’ve got to get in the water.”
She looked wistfully at the calm sea. “No swimsuit.”
“So what? Don’t worry about it. We’re engaged. Practically. Besides, nobody’s watching us.”
And then, as if it was taking her too long to make up her mind, he stood and stretched. He was going to go in without her!
Except he wasn’t. He took one step toward the water, and then ducked back on her, flipped her over, put one arm behind her back and one behind her knees and heaved her up, the motion seeming effortless on his part.
She was cradled against his chest, so shocked by sensation of his naked, sun-heated skin, that for a whole three seconds she didn’t even fight him.
But then, grinning wickedly, he moved toward the water.
Whose dumb idea had it been to teach him how to play? Not letting on—she hoped—how much she was enjoying all this, she struggled, and gave a token scream.
“Don’t! The camisole will be see-through if it gets wet! Ethan!”
“I won’t
And then she realized she had spoken the thought out loud, as if he was a candidate to squire their sister, but she realized she was taking herself too seriously when Ethan appeared not to notice the comment at all.
She reminded herself again to just play, to just enjoy the gift of this day. They tried to launch the kite again, and then again.
Ethan tried to bring his fine business mind to the activity: he licked his finger and tried to calculate the strength of the wind, he made adjustments to the frame, he fiddled with the tail. But finally, by magic rather than science, his kite lifted on the wind, took string, pulled upward and stayed.
Then, with one hand holding his kite spool, he had to try to help her get hers in the air. It was his turn to hold the kite, while she ran.
The skirt, thankfully, didn’t hinder her running ability. In fact, she liked the way it felt skimming along her legs, flying up around her as she raced down the sand.
“Faster,” he yelled at her. “Run faster, gypsy woman.”
So, he had noticed the flying skirt, too.
The camisole wasn’t built for athletic activity; the straps were as annoying as the ones on the bridesmaid’s dress had been last night. She nearly lost the kite every time she had to push a strap back up.
Finally, with her gasping like a fish, her kitejoined his in the sky. The kite zinged upward, taking string like a fish on a run.
“Hey,” she yelled at him. “Keep your kite away from me!” If she really meant that, she wouldn’t keep moving back down the sand toward him, but she did, until they stood almost shoulder to shoulder, heads craned back as they maneuvered the kites.
Naturally he took her command to stay away from her kite as a challenge, and he kept bringing his kite recklessly close to hers so that they nearly touched, so that they looked like they were dancing with each other, swaying, dipping, falling, soaring.
It was like watching a mating ritual. And the result was about the same, too.
The kites finally collided, the strings tangled and they fell to the sand like a parachute that had not opened properly.
“You call yours Charlie, and I’ll call mine Amanda,” he said, flopping down on his back in the sand.
Waldo, exhausted from chasing the kites, took up a post beside him, eyeing Ethan with the suspicion of a spinster chaperone, but not growling at him anymore.
Sam flung herself on her back on the sand beside Ethan. The camisole was stuck to her, and her hair was glued to her forehead. The skirt was limp and crushed.
Which was probably how she would feel tomorrow when it sunk in that it was over. But for now, she enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on her, warm with appreciation. She wanted to touch his back again.
It probably felt different naked than it had felt with the shirt on it.
She shoved her renegade hands under her back.
“I’m hot,” he said. “I’ve got to get in the water.”
She looked wistfully at the calm sea. “No swimsuit.”
“So what? Don’t worry about it. We’re engaged. Practically. Besides, nobody’s watching us.”
And then, as if it was taking her too long to make up her mind, he stood and stretched. He was going to go in without her!
Except he wasn’t. He took one step toward the water, and then ducked back on her, flipped her over, put one arm behind her back and one behind her knees and heaved her up, the motion seeming effortless on his part.
She was cradled against his chest, so shocked by sensation of his naked, sun-heated skin, that for a whole three seconds she didn’t even fight him.
But then, grinning wickedly, he moved toward the water.
Whose dumb idea had it been to teach him how to play? Not letting on—she hoped—how much she was enjoying all this, she struggled, and gave a token scream.
“Don’t! The camisole will be see-through if it gets wet! Ethan!”
“I won’t
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