The Contract (The Contract 1)

“Katy! My Katy.”

Sliding my arms around her back, I rolled to the side, holding her close, pressing kisses to her face, hair, and neck. She hummed, contented and warm, into my chest.

“Love you,” she whispered.

“I love you,” I breathed into her skin. I felt around on the floor, finding a blanket, which I drew up over her bare skin, tucking it around her neck. She curled into my side, fingers tracing a slow pattern over my heart.

“Tomorrow,” I vowed. “Tomorrow we start fresh. Real. Us.”

“Us,” she repeated. “Yes.”

I waited until she fell asleep before I allowed myself to drift off. I shut my eyes, knowing when I awoke she would be beside me.

Secure in that knowledge, I slept.RICHARD

I SHOOK BILL’S HAND AND walked across the beach. Katy was sitting on the sand, a sketchbook on her knees, pencil in hand, but she was motionless. The breeze picked up the strands of her hair, blowing them back like ribbons of dark silk. I sank down behind her, pulling her back into my embrace.

“Hey.”

She tilted her head back, observing me upside down. “Hi. What were you talking to Bill about for so long?” A frown crossed her face. “Please tell me you didn’t ask about buying the resort.”

I snickered at the expression on her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “No. I think he has a buyer. I was thanking him for letting you come back, and we were talking about other things. Where he is moving to, stuff like that.”

She pursed her lips and shrugged, turning back to face the water.

“What are you sketching?”

She held up the book. “Nothing. I’m enjoying the view.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her tight. “It’s a great view.”

“Penny and I used to build bonfires, cook our supper over them, and watch the sunset.”

“We can do that.”

“You’d eat a hotdog skewered on a stick?”

“Only if there’s mustard. And marshmallows after.”

“Huh.”

Leaning down, I nipped the skin at the juncture of her neck. “You don’t think I’ve ever done any outdoor activities, Katy? I built the fire last night.”

“I wondered where you’d learned to build a fire,” she admitted.

“It’s a man thing. It’s in our genes.”

Twisting around, she rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Laughing, I pushed the hair from her face. “We did camping trips at school. They taught us how to build a fire, pitch a tent, that sort of thing.”

“You did that at school?”

I rested my chin on her shoulder. “When I was a teenager and stayed at school over spring break, they offered different activities. Camping was one of them. I liked it. And yes, I even liked the hotdogs. I’m not a total snob.”

I expected one of her quick comebacks; instead, she pivoted, reached up, and cupped my cheek. “You stayed at school rather than go to your parents’?”

“If given the choice, yes. They could get away with me not coming home if they told people I was on a school trip or something. I avoided an entire summer when I was fourteen. I did go on a school trip, then I went to camp for a month. It was the best summer of my life.”

“I’m sorry, my darling.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I snapped.

“We had this discussion already. I do feel bad for the child who was abandoned.” She pushed up to her feet. “And, you, Mr. VanRyan, are being rude again.”

She stomped away, her sketchbook under her arm. I scrambled to my feet, catching up to her in a few strides. Those short legs of hers couldn’t cover the ground the way mine could, thank goodness. I grabbed her around the waist, spinning her, and holding her to me.

“I’m being a dick again. Let me apologize.”

She stared at my chest.

“Katy.”

She looked up, meeting my gaze.

“I’m sorry. I strike out without thinking. I’m not used to talking about my past or having someone care about how I felt then, or now.”

“I do care.”

I lifted her up, bringing her face level with mine. “I know. I’m trying to get used to it, okay? Cut me a little slack.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m new at this trying to be a good guy thing.”

Her eyes softened, and I kissed her again.

“Was that our first fight?”

“Not sure I’d call it a first or a fight.” She smirked.

“Still, I think make-up sex is needed, yeah?”

She tried to look stern, but an impish grin broke out on her face.

I swung her up into my arms, bridal style, striding toward the cottage. “Come on, Mrs. VanRyan. Let me make it up to you. After, we’ll go back into town for hotdogs and marshmallows.”

“And mustard.”

I tossed her on the bed, yanking my shirt over my head. “And mustard.”I threw another piece of wood on the bonfire and crossed my legs. Katy curled up beside me, her head on my shoulder. I patted her knee. “Warm enough?”