Divine (3 page)

This time when he decided to touch her, he
didn’t change his mind. He pushed the hair from her cheek and
braced his hands on either side of her head. For a long moment, he
hovered, holding his upper body off her. In his favorite spot, on
one of the worst days in his life, hope reflected out of the field
of green in her eyes. For a second time, something hitched inside
him.

The interaction was monumental, but he didn’t
know why.

Rain dropped on his head, on her face, a
typical summer shower. He didn’t move, didn’t try to escape, didn’t
want shelter, not from the weather and not from the pull she had on
him.

She tilted her head and pressed her lips to
his.

His body reacted in an odd way he hadn’t
experienced. He stretched out on top of her, felt the curves of a
girl’s body against his, and kissed her. He didn’t know if he did
it right or not, he only knew he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the hell out
of it.

Lightning cracked, a bright light flashed,
and he eased back.

“I always wanted to do that,” she said.

What she said confused him. They’d never met,
so how did she know she wanted to? “Kiss me?”

She giggled. “No silly. Kiss a boy.”

That stung. The kiss had nothing to do with
him, but more with him being at the right place, at the right time.
“Well, I’m glad I could be of help again.” He rolled to the ground
and stood, kicking himself for being so vulnerable and acting
weak.

“Let me walk you home.” He held out his hand,
assisted her to her feet, slipped his muddy shoes on, and stuck his
tie in his jacket pocket.

The rain cooled the air and pebbled her skin.
He gathered his semi-moist suit jacket, shook it off, and arched a
questioning eyebrow. On her nod, he placed it around her shoulders
and rested a hand on her back as he guided her toward the
woods.

Strange, he didn’t want to move his hand. No,
he wished to touch her with both, along with his body, and feel
every inch of her against him.

They buzzed around branches and sticker vines
to the road. The rain tapered and the sun fought for exposure.

“I’m sorry,” she said at the same time he
asked, “Where do you live?”

“Not far. Take a right at the intersection.”
She pointed in the opposite direction from which he came. “You
don’t have to walk with me. I can find my way.” Her voice had a
tinge of sadness to it.

He didn’t let the verbal gut punch that she
would have kissed any boy, or her dejected tone prevent him from
doing the right thing. “I know.”

They reached the crossroads. She placed a
hand on his elbow and tugged him to stop. “I didn’t mean to say
what I did.”

Matt didn’t want to talk about it. It
happened. She stirred his body, and now he focused on getting rid
of the awkwardness between his legs. Talking about the kiss would
make his situation worse. “No worries,” he said and progressed in
the direction of her house.

He glanced at her hand on his arm, liked it
far more than he wanted to admit or understood. “What?” He couldn’t
stop his rough, curt tone.

“When I said I always wanted to kiss a boy, I
meant…I didn’t know when that day would come. If some other boy had
been at the river today, I wouldn’t have had my first kiss.”

“It took a few hundred yards to think of an
excuse?” Damn, he kicked himself for being such an ass.

She released his arm.

Good, back to concentrating on losing the
never-ending hard-on.

“No.” She linked her fingers with his.

He liked how it felt.
Dammit!

“My name is Katrina Lovett.” She paused as if
it meant something to him.

“Mine’s Matt Carson.”

She nodded. “I know.”

It bothered him when someone knew more about
him than he was aware of. “How?”

“The TV. I’m sorry about what happened to
your mom. The accident…” She bit her lip and darted her attention
to the street.

Now he understood why she’d stared earlier.
“Is it the reason you kissed me? Out of pity?”

The lip she’d bitten sparkled with moisture.
“No. I wanted to.”

They walked in silence for a ways. She
tightened her grasp on his hand and fidgeted, as if she would say
or ask a doozy of question. “Will you tell me about your parents?
The news said your dad died a few years ago.”

He hadn’t talked about his dad in a long
time, and didn’t want to talk about his mom, either. Yet being with
Katrina, he slipped into an unusual comfort zone. “Great. Dad and
Mom were awesome.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

By the time they approached her home, he’d
confided in her about the crow’s foot wreaths, his dad taking
Travis and him fishing, even about their first family dog. The
words flowed easily.

“I like you,” she said. “I’m too young for a
boyfriend. My parents would have a cow if they found out.”

Fuzzy tingles covered his entire body. “I
like you, too. Why would your parents have a cow? It’s not like we
can go out.”

“We meet at the river.” Her infectious smile
spread across her face and jerked the hardened area between his
legs. “At our spot.”

He’d like the idea a lot! “How old are
you?”

“Fourteen. You?”

An older girl. “Thirteen.”

“I’m a cougar!” She laughed.

Matt wouldn’t argue that more years needed to
exist between them before she earned the title. Whatever floated
her boat. He liked seeing her happy, unlike when she first appeared
near the river. “What upset you earlier?”

“Oh, that. My parents.” She toed her shoe
against the damp sidewalk. “They try to run my life. No one is good
enough, not even my best friend. Cadence’s dad is almost as rich as
mine. To them wealth makes a person nobler, not to me. They want me
to become a doctor, marry a doctor, everything doctor. I’m sick of
it.”

His parents, the complete opposite of hers,
had supported his interests. “What do you want to do?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I want a nursery, but not any garden
nursery.” With each word, her animated hands flew as if what she
said meant nothing without them. “I want flowers and animals, a
petting zoo for kids.”

Her excited tone intrigued him. He wanted her
to have these things. “Neat.”

“Yeah.” She shoulder bumped him, and they
quickened their pace. “Thanks, even though you don’t mean it.”

He liked animals and had enjoyed planting a
garden with his family every spring. “You’re wrong.”

“Really?” She grinned. “Okay, how about you?
What do you want to be?”

Easy. He wanted to be a firefighter, but he
would follow his dad’s example. Maybe then, he would have some
measure of peace and feel closer to his dad. Maybe then, he’d feel
whole again. “A sniper.”

Expecting she would approve of his decision,
he waited for her validation. When she didn’t, caution rained over
him, and he squeezed her hand before she pulled away. “I’m not sure
what you’re thinking, but I don’t mean criminally. I want to help
Marines. It isn’t fair the men on the ground get ambushed by a
person hiding in the woods.” The way someone opened fire on another
person in cold blood grated on his nerves. He didn’t want to shoot
someone for the sake of killing. He wanted to save lives.

“Isn’t that what you’d be doing?”

Her opinion of what he wanted to do shouldn’t
matter, but he explained anyway. “No. Being a military sniper
doesn’t make you a murderer. It’s doing a job. There’s a big
difference. I’d do it to protect people, save lives.”

“You are a warrior.”

She was so close. If he turned his head, he’d
brush a kiss on her lips. “I don’t know.”

“I do. You saved me. I won’t ever
forget.”

He wouldn’t forget either. This day would
stay with him for a long time.

“But you know, with you in the military and
me doctoring, we’ll never see one another.”

“That’s five years in the future. You sound
as if we’ll know each other then.”

“We will. Mark my words, Matt Carson, we
will.”

She sounded so sure. He squeezed her hand and
felt comfort, excitement. Yeah, he liked touching her too much. To
distract his thoughts, he said, “What’s with this doctor stuff? You
want to own a petting zoo, a nursery.”

“I do.” She scrunched her nose, and he wanted
to kiss it. “I doubt Dad will let me.”

What parent can force their kid into a career
they decide for them? “Who’s your dad?”

“He owns a bunch of horses.” Her voice came
out gruff.

In this part of Maryland, some horse owners
liked to boast and behave as if others with less money weren’t
their equals. She didn’t. She downplayed it. He didn’t have
firsthand experience, but his friends from school talked about it.
Said when rich people believed you’re beneath them, they’d hold
their heads a certain way. Noses in the air, shoulders back as if
they walked with a book on the top of their head. Her reluctance
not to tell him spoke volumes about her integrity. Dad often said,
“If you don’t have integrity, you don’t have much.” He spoke
without thinking about the implications.

She didn’t respond.

“Sorry they control you,” he said, not
knowing what else to say into the awkwardness.

“One day they won’t.” She slowed. “Um,
speaking of them, there’s a good chance they won’t treat you
well.”

“Because I resemble a drowned rat?” He held
her hand tight and opened his arms to his side.

“No matter what is about to happen, we will
always be friends.”

He didn’t have time to process what she said
before a female’s high-pitched voice blasted his ears like an
alarm. “Katrina!” A bitter-faced woman on horseback approached from
behind them. Her red hair, the color of Katrina’s, pulled tight
into a bun.

“My mother,” she whispered.

“Where have you been? You’re all wet. Get to
the house and change before anyone sees you.”

He followed her mother’s finger. The house
she pointed at was no house. Three stories, if not more, extended
at least the size of a football field. Maybe he exaggerated, but
labeling the building huge understated its magnitude.

Another horse approached from the same
direction. A bald-headed man with a mustache sat on top. “Katrina,
listen to your mother. This young fellow,” her dad spoke, barely
acknowledging Matt, “best be going.”

“They won’t give you a chance,” she said
under her breath. “They don’t think you’re worthy.” Her words
drifted with her last comment, as if she said something she
shouldn’t have.

Worthy?
To even think in the terms of
someone being equal or not never entered his mind. Then he
remembered his friends’ comments and grumbled. Her mother observed
him as if he was a snake she wanted to kill with a hoe.

“Mom, Dad, this is Matt Carson. Matt, this is
my parents Sissy and Milton Lovett, the biggest snobs this side of
the Mason-Dixon line.”

“You hold your tongue, little lady. Don’t
give your mother and I sass in front of anyone, especially
strangers.”

“Matt, you’ll have to excuse my father’s
Midwestern accent and style of speaking. He never left the cowboy
persona behind. Though, the way he ridicules you’d think so, since
belittling goes against a cowboy’s code.” She faced her father and
ignored his scowl. “He’s not a stranger to me.”

He didn’t know what to think. Families didn’t
talk this way to one another, and he’d never witnessed anyone being
rude to guests.

“Well, he isn’t our type of people,” her
father said.

He bristled then stepped forward. Katrina
placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“What type of people?” she fumed. “A person
who watches out for others?”

As sassy as she was, she wouldn’t stay under
their control long. She labeled him a warrior, yet she was the
fighter.

“I fell into the river. He saved me. What
better person is there?”

The protective stance she made against her
father was impressive. He would have never back talked his father.
Of course, Dad never belittled anyone.

Mr. Lovett flung a leg over his horse,
dropped to the ground, and approached. Matt slipped his hand out of
his pocket and offered Mr. Lovett a handshake. “Nice to—”

“How much do you want, son?” Mr. Lovett
pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “For your troubles, how
much?”

He blinked. “What?”

“A reward. Isn’t that why you saved her?”

“Shove your money up your ass and treat your
daughter with respect!” is what he wanted to say. Instead, he chose
the path that would make his dad proud. “I don’t want your
money.”

“New clothes then. Clothes don’t come cheap.
I’ll buy you a new suit.”

Clearly, he didn’t belong here. He faced a
gaping Katrina.

“Remember our spot, Trina,” he whispered,
giving her a nickname he hoped she’d love, and with any luck, her
mother and father would hate.

“Check your pocket,” she whispered and
brushed a kiss on his cheek.

Her parents may not like him, but he and
Trina would have a friendship despite them. He winked, accepted his
jacket, and walked toward home.

“Don’t be kissing strange boys!” her mother
ordered.

“Damnest thing I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Lovett
bellowed. “What person on God’s green earth doesn’t want
money?”

“The good kind,” he heard Trina say.

An object slapped his thigh from his suit. He
ran his hand along the inside of the pocket and tugged out a
keychain. The word DIVINE was etched into a metal plate with a
squiggly mark under it.

She possessed everything: a huge house,
money, family. Yet a strange feeling overcame him that she’d given
him her prize possession. Slipping the keychain into his pants
pocket, the unbearable burden that he wouldn’t survive
lessened.

Chapter
Two