Reckless Fortune, page 13
Autumn shuddered against him, sensation rising inside her like a tide.
Bowie pulled away but he didn’t go far. His dark blue gaze was darker than she’d ever seen it before, like midnight in winter, and it made her pull in a breath to steady herself. But she didn’t look away.
And she had no idea how long they stood like that. Holding each other the way they were, as if they always stood together this way. Her hands on his face. His hands at the back of her head and on her hip, holding her close to him. This close to smashing her against that long, rangy body of his, which was the only place she wanted to be.
It felt like a very long time they stood there, neither one of them breathing normally. It felt like forever.
She thought he would say something. Then she thought maybe she should.
But neither of them moved.
Bowie stepped back suddenly, dropping his hands from her like it hurt him. Then he looked at her as if letting go was tearing him apart.
Or maybe that was how she was looking at him, in this hushed, heated moment in a back hall where they were somehow all alone in the middle of a community-wide party. Even though she could hear so many people outside. The music. The laughter.
Her perilous knees signaled their uselessness, so she backed away until she could feel the wall behind her. And strangely enough, she felt absolutely no shame when she found herself clinging to it.
Once again, she thought that Bowie, who never ran out of things to say, would say something here. A joke, she figured. Something to ease the tension. To whisk it all away.
But he only looked at her for another too-long moment, as if even he was lost for words. Tortured, she thought. He looks tortured. Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving her standing there, inside out, and not at all sure how she was meant to put herself back together again.
And maybe at some point she would have to address the part of her that really, truly didn’t mind that. Because she was the dependable, reliable McCall sister. She was not the sister who inspired men to seize her bodily and press kisses upon her, then leave her in a torturous froth.
Autumn couldn’t say she disliked the fact that today, on the summer solstice, she got to be confused for that sister. She blamed the dress.
It was possible she clung to that wall for a lifetime or two. But eventually, her heart calmed down a little. Her pulse stopped threatening to burst straight out of her temples, her wrists, and that needy place between her legs. Even her knees seemed to rise to the occasion. She tested them by standing up straight and taking a couple of steps within reach of the wall. And when that worked, she walked the rest of the way down the hall to the bunkhouse. She wound her way through the dormitory-style setup there and into the toilets.
She was washing her hands when the door swung open behind her and a set of women came in that she knew by now were assorted Saskins.
“You better get out there and fill up a plate before it’s gone,” the most intimidating one said, peering at Autumn as if she was doing something wrong. The way she had since they’d first met at her first market day.
“I’m on my way,” Autumn assured her, slightly worried there were rules she was unwittingly breaking. Like kissing Bowie Fortune in the hall, for example. There had to be rules against that.
“You have to forgive Silver,” said the woman beside her. Her sister, Autumn knew. The whole family had the same striking features. “She thinks she’s the boss of everyone.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Amie,” Silver said, but as if the description not-so-secretly pleased her.
The third woman, their cousin, was nodding. “I’m Team Amie on this one. We never run out of food. Grand Mia would die first.”
“Thank you, Ruby.” Silver did not sound the least bit thankful. “You have a lot of opinions for someone who spends most of her time in Fairbanks.”
The three of them made her miss her sisters. And they were still bickering happily among themselves as Autumn slipped out the door and made her way back to the wide-open doors of the Mine.
She paused there, taking in the scene. Because she, too, came from a place where summers were revered after long, cold, dark winters. No one wanted to miss even a moment of outdoor time, and they didn’t. It wasn’t unheard of to put in a long day at the ranch and then, even knowing they’d have to be up early the next morning, pile in the car to go into Hamilton. Where maybe they’d jump off the bridge and swim around in the river for hours, just because it was light out and they could. Sometimes they’d head all the way up to Missoula, the way she’d told Bowie. They’d sit down on the banks of the Clark Fork River and soak in every last drop of light, eating and drinking and listening to music and enjoying the last, best place they all called home.
Autumn had sweet memories of summers back home. But Midsummer at the Mine, which was written all across the huge banner that hung over the doorway she was standing in, took it to a different level.
She recognized quite a few people she’d seen on market day Saturdays, but there were more people here tonight. Family like Ruby Saskin in from Fairbanks, she assumed. And she loved that families coming together seemed to be another theme here as the longest day wore on. Folks didn’t break up into their own little groups and sit apart. Whole families were settling down around the big, long table made up of what looked like every table from inside. Like they were all one big family here, beneath the bower’s summer bounty with the glorious lake behind them, blue and inviting.
People were pulling up camp chairs to the table or dragging out seats from inside. They were passing platters around between them. Autumn could hear the sound of parents corralling their children and calling them to eat, sparking another set of memories. Her mother, calling out across the fields to bring them all running home, barefoot and red-faced and filled with that wild summer glee.
She concentrated on the view here, now. Past the boathouse down at the water’s edge, around the shoreline to the right, there were little cabins here and there. And there were enough of them with vehicles parked in front to let her know that they were occupied. Seasonally, she would bet, as none of them looked sturdy enough to be winterized. Or not for an Alaska winter, anyway.
And everywhere there was a bit of flat land, there were tents. Some clumped together, suggesting a family unit, or friends. Others off on their own. There were tents set up on top of vehicles and others that looked as if they wouldn’t be out of place halfway up a mountain. But there were enough of them to indicate making it up to this particular celebration of daylight was a priority. A destination.
A delight, Autumn thought, but maybe that was the kiss talking.
Most of the musicians who’d been playing along together inside had laid down their instruments and wandered over to find places at the table, but a couple of the men had come outside and sat themselves on the back of someone’s ATV, like it was a stage.
And somehow, two old men in fedoras, playing dueling blues, were the perfect complement to the moment.
Autumn reached down to check the security of the belt of her wrap dress. Then she walked down toward the table, something hitching inside her when she saw Violet and Piper already there, and waving. To her.
Like she belonged here.
“We saved you a seat,” Piper told her when she sat down. “And it wasn’t easy. Maryam Fox tried to steal it no less than seven times.”
“I find it fascinating that, given open seating, all the factions of the Lost Lake community still divide into their familial groups, even at a table that is clearly meant to stir them all up,” Violet said, but she was talking more to the notebook she was scribbling in than to Piper or Autumn.
“Just wait until December,” Piper said with a grin. “It’s smaller, but in a lot of ways even better. And there’s definitely more fraternizing between factions.”
Autumn could have asked more about December, but she was betting she knew. Another festival, but this one in the dark.
Of course, she wouldn’t be here for that one.
And acknowledging that truth seemed to take something out of her. A big chunk she hadn’t known she was at risk of losing.
“Are you all right?” Violet asked, her gaze sharpening on Autumn as she looked up from her notes. “You look . . .”
“Overwhelmed?” Autumn asked, and made herself smile, even though her mouth didn’t feel like hers anymore. Her entire body was in a small riot, in fact, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Even though she knew, with distressing accuracy, exactly where Bowie was sitting. As if he’d kissed her and now she had a particular, internal GPS, tuned to him alone. She could feel him, like a searchlight, sitting farther down the table with his parents and some of the men around his age who Autumn recognized, but hadn’t met yet.
He didn’t look at her once but Autumn knew he was aware of every breath she’d taken since she’d appeared in the doorway. Like he had the same GPS in him, too.
She had never found GPS, of all things, hot before.
“You’re overwhelmed?” Piper asked from beside her as if, depending on Autumn’s reply, she was prepared to flip the table to make her feel better.
“Only because I’ve never been to Midsummer at the Mine before,” Autumn assured her.
Violet looked up and smiled. “Me, neither. It’s extravagant.”
It was, for more reasons than she planned to share with Violet, but knowing that she wasn’t the only brand-new person here helped, somehow. Autumn grabbed the next platter that passed her by, taking the opportunity to pile her plate high with food. All the food.
She wasn’t hungry. Or anyway, not for food. But she couldn’t have what she wanted, so this felt like the next best thing.
Just to make sure, she had seconds.
And a tiny portion of thirds.
Followed by a generous helping from the cake tray that Maryam and Sylvie Fox passed around.
By the time she’d forked in her last, deliciously gluttonous bite, Autumn was so stuffed she couldn’t take a full breath. That was fine with her, because what had breathing done for her so far? If there had to be breathlessness, to her mind, better it should be from all the glorious food rather than one too-beautiful-to-live man.
Who happened to kiss even better than the numerous dreams she’d had on the subject.
Much, much better.
She waddled over to one of the couches, sat down, and let the night wash over her. It was still light, of course, and would be for hours yet. There was dancing. Anyone around with a musical bent appeared to shake off their feasting by picking up their instruments to join in what should have been a cacophony, but what came across instead as a chorus.
Joyful, almost accidental, and maybe somehow more perfect because of it.
It was the longest day of the year, so Autumn waited until she felt like she could pull a full breath in, and then she danced in the summer light that persisted so long into the evening. She danced and danced, with people she knew and people she didn’t. There were no steps, no formalities. People did what they liked, sometimes in couples, sometimes alone, sometimes in raucous groups.
She danced so she wouldn’t have to think about that life-altering kiss. Or maybe so it could burn inside her while she moved, because it was all she thought about. She danced so that her body could quit its sensual assault, but the music and the movement seemed only to heighten the sensitivity of her skin. Of her . . . everything.
Autumn danced to pretend she didn’t have that bright light inside her, letting her know exactly where Bowie was at every turn, but she knew.
She knew.
Not long before midnight, Autumn took a break to drink a lot of water, then prop herself up against one of the couches outside again. There was a breeze playing with the ropes of light that hung everywhere, making them dance and cast their rainbow shadows. And the trellis that covered the table was wrapped in lights, too, making it all feel otherworldly. As if this weren’t the Mine at all, but some fantasy world she’d stumbled into.
Piper had told her that the party went on until the sun went down at last, and it showed no signs of stopping before that. There were only a few people outside with her. A couple cozied up in a big chair. A table of kids playing a boisterous game of cards. Otherwise it was just her and the body she’d fed and then moved as joyfully as she knew how.
And still, all she could feel was that kiss.
She could have texted her sisters and told them what had happened. They would have loved it—or hated it—with all their usual noise. That normally made her laugh. But somehow, it felt like a betrayal of the moment she’d had with Bowie to consider sharing it that way. She didn’t even know what she would say. Thinking of what she could write in her head seemed to diminish what had actually happened. Bowie kissed me. We kissed.
It had been a kiss, sure. That sounded woefully quantifiable. Small and comprehendible.
When what happened was nothing short of a revelation. A song she’d never sung before with a melody she now thought she would never get out of her head.
And much as she’d tried to tamp it down with sugar, then sweat it out on the dance floor, the fact remained.
That kiss had changed everything.
Inside, she felt . . . seismic.
Still.
She blew out a breath, drained the rest of her water, and decided it was high time she sorted herself out. She had already decided that it was foolish to have designs on a man she had to live with for two more months, especially when she was trying to win a contest. More than foolish, it was directly asking for trouble. Courting disaster, even. Everyone knew better than to do such a thing.
And Autumn was nothing if not devoted to conventional wisdom.
But somehow, out here beneath strands of colored lights that made her own hands look like technicolor rainbows, she couldn’t seem to sink back into any kind of conventional wisdom that would normally bolster her. Maybe because none of this was conventional at all.
Conventional wisdom would not have allowed her to join a mail-order bride contest in the first place. And if she had any wisdom in her at all, she would have taken one look at Bowie and called the whole thing off, because he was nothing if not a heartbreak waiting to happen.
Probably to her. Maybe right now.
Her breath got tangled up again at that, because it had been one thing to moon around over how beautiful he was, and how, really, he probably would have preferred to spend three months isolated somewhere with one of her sisters. Like every other man alive. She’d been sure of that since the day they’d met.
Except now she wasn’t sure at all.
Because she might not have had a lot of experience. Some might even say that she didn’t know a thing about men. And maybe that was true.
But she knew this man. Maybe not well. Maybe not the way his friends and family did, but she’d lived with him, night and day, for almost a month. And she knew that the way he’d kissed her, he hadn’t been thinking of anyone else. He hadn’t been wishing she was any other woman but her.
Her sisters were forever going on about who was a player and who was not, and Autumn had always counted herself lucky that she was never involved in the sorts of games that involved players in the first place. If she pulled out her phone and told her sisters what was going on, that’s exactly what they would call Bowie.
But she knew that they were wrong. And that she would never be able to explain to them how she knew it.
It was the way he’d kissed her. It was the way he’d looked at her, as if he was tortured by the fact that the only thing on this earth that he could focus on was her. She knew that was what he’d been feeling, because she felt it, too.
Everything was different now.
So the only question she really had to ask herself was, What did she plan to do next?
Her own query seemed to kick around inside her like a lightning strike.
What do you plan to do next?
The wise move would be to pretend nothing had happened. To sink back into the routine that had cropped up between them as they awkwardly cohabitated. There was no question that if she was smart, that’s what she would do.
No harm, no foul.
But she knew even as she thought it that she wasn’t going to.
Because Autumn had been taking care of other people for as long as she could remember. Even her sweet mother before she’d died. She’d first gone into the hospital when Autumn was ten. Autumn had spent four years trying to fill in the gaps for her, and then, at fourteen, had done her best to take charge once Roberta McCall was gone.
What if? came a voice in her head.
A voice that sounded a whole lot like the way she remembered her mother’s.
What if, just this once, Autumn thought about nothing and no one but herself? What if she focused on what she wanted right now? Not what was smart. Not what was practical.
But what she wanted the most.
What would happen?
Piper appeared in the doorway then and threw her hands up in the air when she saw Autumn sitting down. “What are you doing? This is the final push! We have to dance out the daylight!”
That sounded like exactly what Autumn wanted to do in this moment. So that was what she did.
She danced. She danced until she felt like the music was a part of her bones, and she smiled so wide and sang so loud that she was sure that if she looked in any kind of reflective surface, she wouldn’t recognize herself.
When really, she felt more her than she could remember ever feeling before.
She danced and she danced, and when the sun finally went down as much as it ever did this far north, she took part in the long, wild cheer that seemed to raise the roof off the Mine and echo down the length of the lake.
And as night finally fell, a dark blue suggestion of the dark, folks began to clean up a bit and head off for their tents and bunks and cabins.
