Cherry Adair - Slow Burn

“What’s up?” she yelled, following him out onto the front porch. Luke made a walking motion with his fingers and led her down the steps and across the scraggly front yard, then crossed the narrow street to the beach. The noise from the house dimmed, overshadowed by the whisper of waves curling up the beach. The gorgeous day was made absolutely perfect because she was with Luke.

Catherine removed her sandals and inhaled the salty air deep into her lungs. “Glorious. Beats paint fumes.”

Several cheap laborers off to the right pretended to hide behind the sea grasses when they saw Luke coming down to the water. “Isn’t lunch over?” he yelled.

“We haven’t even lit the barbecue, Captain Bligh!”

Several of the men called out rude comments, which Luke volleyed back with laughing ease. People naturally gravitated to him. It was one of the things Catherine loved about him—that easy, relaxed warmth he exuded without even trying. He was such an extrovert, so charismatic that he made people happy to be near him. People always seemed to want to do their best when Luke was around.

Together they walked down the beach in the opposite direction of the rowdy lunch crew.

“You’re lucky to have such great friends.”

“Yeah. A good bunch. You fit in nicely. All the guys think you’re hot. The women like you, too.”

Catherine felt a warm glow. In the years she’d been taking care of their dad, she’d lost contact with many of her friends. She’d almost feared she might have lost some of her social skills. More than the words, the approval she heard in Luke’s voice put a lump in her throat. She was glad she’d put off leaving for another day. She’d have one more Luke memory.

“Where are we going?” She skipped to keep up with his long strides. “Not, mind you, that I object to a break from slaving over a dripping paintbrush for a while.”

“Let’s sit over there in the shade.” Luke pointed at a small sandy dune shaded by a wisp of a tree and tall sea grass. He leaned against the frail, gnarled tree trunk and stared out at the flat blue horizon for a few seconds without saying anything. Catherine’s stomach clenched.

She concealed the frisson of unease that coursed through her, the sensation familiar and annoying. Old history. She usually managed to control it, but it still blindsided her every now and then. She’d felt it when her mother had left her with Peter Van Buren. She’d felt it every time Luke had tormented her as a child, insisting she was no relative of his. She’d felt it most profoundly the night of her seventeenth birthday, when Luke had rejected her amateurish advances. And she’d last felt it when the man she considered her father had died, eight months ago.

She didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her she had a fear of abandonment. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself, no one is abandoning anyone. Luke was everything he’d always been. A typical big brother. It wasn’t his fault her feelings had grown and changed. And it would be unfair to blame him because his hadn’t. Luke would never hurt her. At least not intentionally. Pulling her shell around herself like a crab and wanting to hide was a knee-jerk reaction. Get over it, she told herself firmly. She’d already decided to leave.

“If this is going to be a lecture about something, save your breath.” Catherine sat gingerly on the hot sand and circled her bare knees with her arms. Wriggling her toes, she buried them in the dry, hot granules. “I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, it’s not like you have to go, is it? The house is sold. You said yourself you wanted to make a fresh start. The Bay area’s great. In a month or so I’ll be living out here, then you can finish turning the condo into the Amazon. Why leave now?”

She scratched a flake of cream paint off her shin. “I’m in the way.”

“No you’re not, Cat.” Luke dropped to his knees beside her. He took her chin in his palm and made her look at him. “You’re not in the way at all. I like having you with me.”

His touch burned like a brand. Catherine shifted enough to dislodge his hand from her face. Her emotions were already on overload. All the old fears and doubts about making him see her differently came rushing to the fore.

The sun turned the short hairs on his arms the color of coffee; his skin shone with vitality. He was close enough for her to feel the brush of his shorts against her bare thigh. Close enough for Catherine to inhale his unique scent.

She loved him so much it hurt.

“It’s a one-bedroom, Luke. And I’m in it. You can’t even go to the bathroom without tripping over my stuff.”

“I don’t trip over your stuff. In fact, if I hadn’t insisted you unpack, you’d still be living out of your suitcase. You’re so neat I hardly notice you’re there.”

“You can’t bring anyone home.”

“At the moment I don’t want to. And in the unlikely event that changes, I’ll handle it. I’m not a sex fiend, Cat. As much as I’d like to tell you I have a smorgasbord of women who sleep over, I don’t. Not nowadays.”

“What about Suzette. Or Elizabeth the Wretch?”

“Both charming and delightful, but nothing serious.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stay, Cat.” He slung a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “Honest to God, I enjoy having someone to cook for. Besides, look how pink my nail beds are.” He stuck a broad hand in front of her.

Catherine’s lips twitched. “Your nail beds?”

“All that oxygen your rain forest is producing is good for me. And what would I do if I had the use of all my saucers again, or if I couldn’t see the carpet because you weren’t there to pick up my socks?”

“You could get a maid, Van Buren.”

The temptation to lean into him was overwhelming. His skin felt hot, and the sensation of having it touching hers zipped through her like expensive French champagne.

“A maid wouldn’t keep me centered, or laugh at my jokes.”

“Just promise me something, okay? If it starts getting to you, just come straight out and tell me. No hurt feelings.”

“Never happen. You’ll always have a home with me. Always.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see her moist eyes. “I love you, Luke Van Buren, do you know that?”

“I love you, too, Catwoman. A guy couldn’t ask for a better baby sister.”

Zing. Direct hit. After a stunned second, Catherine pressed her fingertips into her eye sockets. Hard.

Luke shifted beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Sand,” she mumbled into her wrists. “Darn, that stings.”

Not her eyes. Her heart.

“Want me to look?”

No, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. He didn’t have twenty-twenty vision where she was concerned. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

Give or take fifty years.

* * *

LUKE RETURNED TO the house alone. Cat had decided to go for a run on the beach. He shook his head. The woman was insane. It was hot out there. He found Nick in the kitchen.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just had a little chat with Cat. She’s staying.”

“I’d have made book on that.”

“Let’s get some work done, Stratton.” He and Nick crossed the entry hall side by side, their workboots vibrating on the subflooring. The front door stood open to catch the summer breeze, bringing with it the scent of briny air and the mouthwatering aroma of the beach barbecue. A couple of guys were out on the wide porch sanding, and the sweet smell of the sawdust mingled with the scents of tung oil, paintz and wallpaper paste.

Two different radios blared from opposite ends of the house, each on a different station, naturally—salsa from the back, hard rock from the front porch. Luke inhaled deeply as he stepped through the wide double doors into the great room. Home. It was becoming home.