Love is a Battlefield: Games of Love, Book 1 (22 page)

“Okay, you’re good.” He handed her the bottle as soon as he was done, and if he’d been examining her breasts, he gave no indication of it now. “You’re probably going to want to have Jada or Anne do this again in a few hours. You’ll barely even notice the sunburn tomorrow.”

Julian turned to walk away, but Kate grabbed his arm to stop him. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It must bother you to help the enemy.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark. “You’re not my enemy, Kate.”

Kate didn’t lift her hand from his arm while she waited for him to say something more. Words struggled on his tongue—she could tell by the way his jaw tightened and loosened in a rapid succession. But before he could speak, voices rose up from the little copse of woods. Michael, Nick, Anne and Jada, with a volleyball under her arm, popped out from the trees, one at a time, laughing and triumphant.

“What am I, then, Julian?” she asked.

His voice was barely audible as he pulled his arm away and turned his attention to the new arrivals, but Kate didn’t breathe until the words reached her ears.

“You’re a distraction.”
 

Chapter Eleven

Weakening Lines

It should have been a perfect evening.

The sky had been clear all day, so there was no moisture in the air. The night was crisp and clean, the scent of pine trees and roasting meat filling the camp and Julian’s lungs. After what was apparently an epic volleyball match lasting most of the afternoon, the campers were hungry, tired and sunburned, though not nearly to the degree Kate had been a few hours ago. The need for food and rest united them in a peaceful search for the necessary remedies—almost a whole side of beef and plenty of alcohol to wash it down.

McClellan had even surprised them all by producing a guitar, an old battered thing covered in bumper stickers he kept in the back of his truck for just such an emergency. Any minute now and they’d all be holding hands and swaying to “Kumbaya”.

Julian sat with them, but his mind wasn’t anywhere near the festivities. After a few hours of weightlifting at the gym earlier in the day, he’d returned to his apartment to find a message waiting for him. It was a courtesy call, from the assistant of a one Bonnie Horton, Vice President of Public Relations at Rockland Bluff Whisky.

“We’ve received an update from the Scottish Highland Society,” a light, cheerful voice had chirped into the phone, “notifying Ms. Horton of the possibility of a change of venue. Her schedule is very tight over the coming weeks, and I will take this opportunity to remind you that we do need to be informed of any changes to the itinerary immediately. Last minute surprises do not reflect well on the reputation of Rockland Bluff Whisky.”

Julian had stabbed at the answering machine in irritation. The SHS hadn’t told them anything—he’d already discussed the situation with the regional director, and he’d placed the fullest confidence in Julian’s ability to make everything work.

No, that call came from an entirely different quarter—Kilroy. Julian would stake his entire reputation on it. Apparently, the man had been playing the role of Tattle-Tale Number One.

A visit to his mom’s house hadn’t proved very beneficial to his state of mind, either. He’d come in to find her sitting at the table paying bills, a stack to one side as high as her glass of iced tea. The moment he came in, she swept them all into her hand and out of sight, but when he asked her if she needed any help—he did have a small savings account, and she was welcome to every penny—she’d somehow turned the tables on him and ended up pressing a twenty dollar bill in his hand and convincing him to take his sisters out for ice cream.

And what a joy that had been. They wanted the treat about as much as he did, even though he was a lot better at hiding it. It didn’t make sense. The girls had always looked up to him, if a little shyly, and his visits usually felt like a big vacation for all of them. This wasn’t a vacation. This was a visit to the dentist without Novocain.

“What’s this I hear about a new boyfriend, Nala?” he’d asked casually over the chocolate sprinkles.

“He’s just some guy from school, Jules,” Nala muttered, stabbing at her ice cream with a straw. “I don’t know why you have to be all up in my business. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not what you wrote in your diary last night,” Beth called back in a sing-song voice.

“You did not, you little worm!”

“I did too! And if you don’t want me reading it, then you shouldn’t put it under your mattress. I bet you a thousand dollars Mom reads it too. What a lame hiding spot.”

Julian had found himself nodding in agreement. That’d be the first place he’d look.

Nala, in her infinite teenage maturity, retaliated by flinging her ice cream at the both of them and missing by a wide distance. In the end, Julian had to hustle them all out of the shop under the watchful eye of the proprietor, racing against a large glob of vanilla ice cream that ran down the inside of the front window.

In short, he’d accomplished nothing that day. A return call to Ms. Horton ended up at her voicemail. His mom still had that stack of bills to attend to. And when he’d dropped them off, his sisters stormed up to their bedrooms without another word.

“What’s with the mood?” Michael took a seat next to him and handed him a plate containing three hamburgers. Julian grabbed one.

“It’s not a mood, Mikey. It’s life. Dude, is this thing even cooked all the way through? It looks like it’s barely dead.”

“Eat it, Jules. Protein is more powerful when it’s raw and dripping with juice. Like all of a man’s meat.” He uttered a guttural roar for good effect. “We’ve got the fire going for the tub after dinner. You joining us this time?”

“I don’t think so.”

They were all well past the age when co-ed camping was novel, but something about their situation had turned them into a bunch of kids away from their parents for the first time. Everyone except him, that was. It wasn’t that he was against having a good time—during the off season, he and the other construction guys would hit the bars six nights out of seven and consider themselves lucky if they fell asleep before the sun started rising. But this wasn’t the time or the place for such freeform fun. There was a reason they were all out here, and in the next few days, that would have to become patently clear. No one was solving anything by playing volleyball and eating undercooked meat.

A glance over at Kate only reinforced his decision to decline the invitation. She looked miserable. The bruise on her forehead was at its full purple peak, a contrast to the pink skin that covered her upper half. She was wrapped up in a blanket against the cold that always followed a bad sunburn, and she looked about as happy to be there as he felt.

He realized, with an oddly sinking sensation in his chest, that it was the right time to strike. She was down. He could end this tonight.

“You go ahead, Mikey. I’ve got something else I need to do.”

Michael followed the path of his gaze to where Kate sat. “Yeah, there is. It’s about damn time too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure thing. If you say so. Hey, gang—eat up. Last one in the tub has to haul in the firewood.”

With a wink, Michael rounded everyone up—everyone except Kate—and directed their attention to the pursuit of the flesh. Julian shook his head and tossed his food aside. The man had his back. That was never in doubt.

Julian offered Kate a tentative smile from the other side of the circle. “And then there were two.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever get the feeling we’re playing camp counselor to a bunch of horny fourteen-year-olds?”

Julian shuddered. “Can you imagine a worse job on the whole face of the planet?”

“Yes.” Kate grimaced. “You could be a bookstore manager.”

“I thought you liked your job.” He certainly liked it. The leap from bookish manager to sexy librarian was an easy one to make, at least in his mind.

Kate waved her hand dismissively. “It’s all right. But it’s not exactly what I had planned for my life.”

“What
did
you have planned?” Julian’s athletic career was such an integral part of who he was it seemed unfathomable to settle for anything less. Even the construction work was done with an eye to his goals. It kept him fit and filled in the financial gaps.

“Bookstore buyer.”

“How is that different?”

“The buyer is the person who decides what books are put into the store, which authors to highlight and what’s going to be the next big thing. The buyer has power. The manager does what she’s told.”

“So why don’t you do it?”

She made a light scoffing sound. “It’s not exactly a position that opens up very often. I’m biding my time.”

“Then open your own bookstore. That’s real power. You can buy whatever you want then.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she firmly shut it.

“Scared?” Julian asked wryly. “Is it too far from those ridiculous, romantic ideas you have about what your life is supposed to be?”

Before she could reply, he grabbed the bucket of sand and began tamping down the fire. A state park ranger had come by the day before, and although he’d assured the campers he had no problems with them being out there, he was very strict about making sure they obeyed all the local fire-safety laws.

“No witty remarks?” he asked as soon as he was done. He’d expected one of her usual barbs—they’d become one of his favorite parts of this strange game they were playing. The silence was a little unsettling.

“I’m taking the high road. I hardly think you’re in a position to offer me professional advice.”

He tensed. “Because I’m just some random athlete?”

“Of course not. It’s because you know nothing about my life.”

Like most of the things she said, the statement was laced with a challenge, a note of irritation around the edges. It was a challenge he was prepared to meet head-on.

He got to his knees in front of her, the damp grass pressing into his jeans. “I know more than you think.” And he did. He knew more about this woman he’d met a few weeks ago than anyone he’d ever dated or had a relationship with. She was like one of her books, and although reading wasn’t a pastime he expended a whole lot of energy on, she was open to him in ways that only made him wish to learn more.

Julian spoke slowly, testing her reaction with each word, gaining confidence as she listened, silent and still. “You use Jane Austen as a shield for real life, hiding behind your books and gowns instead of facing what’s right in front of you. You’ve got all your dreams contained in little ordered boxes, and you think keeping them there is your source of power. But your real power is right in front of me. You have such a soft, gentle presence, people think you’re easily swept aside—
you
think it, too. But there’s steel in there, and you have no idea how strong that makes you. Believe me, I’ve been trying to bend it for weeks without any luck. And I’m a pretty strong man.”

A slight shock registered in her eyes, and Julian knew he’d hit home.

“Can I sit?” he asked.

She nodded and patted the ground next to her. Julian turned down the lantern before he sat, the darkness enveloping them in an almost private embrace.

The stars twinkled at them, setting the tone even more. Even in a city as small as theirs, the stars were often lost in the lights of activity and the heavy fog of industry. Getting a few miles away from it all turned the amplitude of the skies up to eleven.

“My mom was asking about you today,” he said, breaking the silence. She didn’t seem inclined to talk, which was fine with him. He needed to get through what he had to say, and conversations like these weren’t his strongest suit. But it was important—now more than ever—that she understood where he was coming from.

“Did she?” Kate asked. A sheen of formality covered her tone, but Julian heard the wavering underneath it. “She seemed like a sweet lady. You’re lucky to have a mom like that. Mine is…well, she’s got her ideas about life, and it can be hard sometimes to get along with her if you think there’s any other way to go about living it.”

“A woman with set ideas. Imagine that.”

A choke escaped Kate’s lips as she fought a laugh. “So, what did she say?”

Julian leaned back on his elbows and watched a group of bats flap overhead. He smiled. “My mom? Oh, she was asking whether or not you had proper shoes for camping. She seemed concerned about ticks.”

Kate laughed out loud that time and leaned back onto the ground next to him. They weren’t touching, but there was a sense of intimacy about their repose, twin silhouettes for all intents and purposes alone in the world.

“I know for a fact that the high tick season here is almost over.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yep. That was the one thing I looked up about camping. I hate those little bloodsuckers.”

Julian chuckled softly. He loved that no matter what dastardly depths they plunged into together or how much nature might be kicking her ass, Kate’s sense of humor remained intact.

“Have I ever told you about my mom?” Julian suddenly asked. He couldn’t help but think that if she understood where his mom came from—where he came from—she might better understand how important these Games were to him and to his whole family. Sure, he’d admit it wasn’t exactly big of him to call her event a tea party, but no amount of persuasion would ever convince him the JARRS trumped the SHS. They weren’t even on the same scale—it was like measuring the scope of all those stars against the human heart.