Page 7

Kayleigh had been dealing with her nightmares alone for as long as she could remember. Her dad had tried to help when she was a child and then, knowing he was out of his league, had sent her to a therapist.

And while that had helped, the nightmares had never quite gone away.

As an adult, she’d hid them from everyone, especially her father. Nightmares would give him one more reason to smother her with security.

But it was often hard to handle the aftermath of her night terrors alone. It took hours, or sometimes even days, for her to feel back to normal.

Yet here she was a few hours later, her body and mind having rebounded almost like the episode—and it had been a bad one—had never happened. She knew why.

Weston.

She should’ve been embarrassed that he’d seen her at her most weak, but wasn’t. Everything he’d done had been damned near perfect. He hadn’t smothered her, had just offered his support—physically and emotionally.

And now they were trolling the bass boat he’d rented around on the lake, enjoying the sunshine. She took a bite of the sandwich in her hand, trying not to be affected by the sight of a shirtless Weston in low-slung jeans at the front end of the boat.

She was affected.

She finished her sandwich and snapped a picture of a sandpiper as it flew across the calm waters, very well aware that she’d also caught Weston in the shot. She’d somehow managed to catch him in most of her shots today.

“That’s not your normal MO.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

She grimaced at his words, sure she was busted for taking his picture.

“It’s not?”

“That’s not your normal camera, right?”

Thank goodness, he wasn’t calling her out on being a pervy perv, shooting him without his shirt on.

“Yeah.” Her voice came out as a squeak so she started again. “Yeah, this is my film camera rather than digital. Despite my squeamishness in the dark last night, I really enjoy developing film in an old-fashioned darkroom. It’s therapeutic.”

“A darkroom isn’t totally in the dark, right?”

“Only for a few seconds when you’re first taking the film out of the cassette and putting it in the tank. But I know that darkness is coming and I control everything about it, so it doesn’t frighten me. The rest is done with a red light that doesn’t harm the film.”

“Sounds unique.”

She smiled. “I enjoy working with the prints. It’s almost a lost art. Shooting with a film camera is different than digital too. It requires me to be more precise and deliberate in my choices.”

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and took a bite of his sandwich. “Did you study photography formally or were you self-taught?”

She shrugged. “Both, I guess. I did major in photography in college. I minored in horticulture. A blend of both my loves.”

“I minored in horticulture also. Majored in sociology.”

“You went to college?” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. How obnoxious of her. “I just mean in your line of work, I didn’t think a college degree was necessary.”

He didn’t seem to be offended, thank goodness. “I guess it depends on what aspect of my line of work you’re referring to.”

She agreed. “Right. You have your own business, so college makes sense. But sociology? That’s an unusual choice.” She didn’t want to stick her foot in her mouth further by including the rest of the sentence... for a landscaper .

He looked out at the lake and then back to her. “I wanted to understand the system and figure out how to help kids who were trapped in it like I was. I’m not sure what form that will eventually take, I just know it will happen. I was a cop for two years, but figured out quickly that wasn’t what I wanted to do full-time, so I went into business with my brothers. It keeps me pretty busy.”

She had so many questions. His brothers were in the landscaping business too? He’d been a police officer?

But mostly, “Brothers?”

He grinned. That dimple was back and it was all she could do not to grab her camera and take a close-up of his face.

“I was bounced around the foster care system from the time you knew me with Henry until I was adopted by the Pattersons when I was thirteen. They adopted three other boys around the same age.”

“Wow. Here I was thinking you were an only child like me. I guess if you guys went into business together, you’re pretty close.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stepped over to her to show her a picture.

“This is Luke.” He pointed to a white man. “He’s the oldest by a few months. And this is Brax.” That man was biracial. “He’s married now and has a son.”

He pointed to the Hispanic man with his arm around Weston in the photo. “And this is Chance. He’s probably most similar to me—a little more quiet than Luke or Brax.”

All four of them were completely different in skin tone and looks, but each so handsome. And obviously very comfortable with each other. Brothers .

She grinned at him. “Wow. You guys are like quadruplets. How do people tell the Patterson brothers apart?”

Weston belly laughed as he sat back down—the deep boom of it echoing across the water. It was possibly the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard.

She grabbed her camera, taking multiple shots, uncaring about whether it wasted film. She didn’t stop even when his laughter died out. He was studying her, eyes serious, completely unselfconscious about the lens pointed at him.

He wasn’t looking at the camera at all. He was looking at her using the camera. She finally set it down.

“I like to watch you work,” he said.

“I like to hear you talk about your family and see you laugh. Will you tell me more?” She walked to the front of the boat so she could sit closer to him.

“Sheila and Clint Patterson—Mom and Dad to me and my brothers—are definitely unique. There aren’t many people who would adopt four traumatized adolescent boys. I’m sure it wasn’t always easy for them. They didn’t have much money or space in their house. But they were patient and consistent with their love and acceptance, and eventually...” He shrugged, trailing off.

“Eventually they became Mom and Dad,” she finished for him.

“Yes, exactly. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that family isn’t always blood, and blood isn’t always family.” He touched a small circular scar on his shoulder as he said it.

She’d noticed similar ones on his back and chest too, and had wondered what they were, but hadn’t wanted to ask.

He saw her looking at them. “Cigarette burns.” His voice was stoic.

It took her a second to process that, then horror set in. “From your biological parents?”

“My mom died when I was five. My dad—my biological father, he was never a dad —wasn’t thrilled about being saddled with a young kid. He drank. He was a mean drunk.”

She reached for his hand, grateful when he didn’t pull away. She knew that talking in general was hard for him. Talking about this had to be nearly impossible. But just like he’d been there for her this morning, she wanted him to know she was here for him now in whatever way he would let her be.

“The first time he burned me was on my ninth birthday. But, ultimately, those marks were what caught the attention of social services and got me out of there, so I’m kind of glad it happened. And eventually got me into the greatest family ever, albeit via a long and twisted road.”

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but settled for holding his hands. “I’m glad you have a family. That you have wonderful parents and a set of identical brothers.” She nudged him with her shoulder.

He brought their entwined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her palm. “Thank you.”

“And I have to admit I’m a little jealous. I always wanted a big family. Obviously, by the way I monopolize every conversation, I needed someone to talk to.”

His brown eyes met hers. “How about if I take you to meet my giant talkative family sometime? You won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.”

“I’d like that.”

And with that, he seemed to be all talked out. They finished their sandwiches and cranked the speed up on the boat a little more. She took him to the north side of the lake to another house her father owned, one more similar to the ornate mansion at Lake Austin.

As they pulled closer, Weston slowed the boat down. The house and grounds, so grandiose and impressive, sat empty, like it did almost year-round.

Plenty of money, plenty of room...no family. A pretty close metaphor for her life. She had her dad, but their relationship was often strained. She had money, but was still often alone.

She didn’t want Weston to see her poor-little-rich-girl attitude, so she pulled out her camera and started taking random pictures of the house. She was hardly concentrating on it at all, just allowing her mind and body to do what was almost muscle memory. She took shots of the grounds, the windows, the roof.

Nothing that she really wanted photographs of.

“Hey.” Weston’s hand touching hers on the camera finally had her dropping it. She was out of film anyway. No more hiding.

“Hey.” She tried to sound chipper but failed miserably.

“You’re sad.” Those deep brown eyes met and held hers. She couldn’t look away.

“What I am is ridiculous. Feeling sorry for myself when right in front of us is proof of my family’s riches.”

“We both know money is not what makes someone rich. And it’s okay to be sad when you know you need something but you don’t have it. It’s like your abduction—just because it wasn’t the worst that could’ve happened doesn’t mean it wasn’t bad.”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t talk very much, you sure have a way with words.”

He smiled. Gah, that dimple . “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you let me make you a special dinner tonight and then you can really be impressed?”

The words set butterflies a’flight in her stomach. When was the last time she’d had someone cook a special meal for her because they’d wanted to? When was the last time she’d wanted someone to?

She was still feeling those same butterflies a few hours later when they made it back to their side of the lake, docked the boat and went inside. After a shower, she wished she had something better to wear than jeans and a T-shirt. Something more feminine and a little sexy.

She hadn’t been prepared for Weston when she’d packed for this trip.

Night had fallen and he was already at work in the kitchen, having showered and changed himself. She was a little sad he’d donned a shirt, but loved the look of the ice-blue color against his brown skin. And was all but drooling at the way the muscles of his arms stretched against the tee’s sleeves.

His arms had felt so strong wrapped around her this morning. Like he was powerful enough to fight off any demon that would dare try to haunt her.

“Okay.” He turned to her, somehow aware of her presence in the doorway even though she hadn’t said anything. “This meal won’t be quite as impressive as I’d hoped due to lack of ingredients. But I make a mean salad to go with spaghetti.”

She walked over and hopped up to sit on the counter next to the stove. “I’m a sucker for a good salad. Especially if it has exotic ingredients in it like tomatoes.”

He pointed at her with the spoon he’d been using to stir the sauce and winked. “You just wait until we’re not stuck here anymore. I’ll make you a proper meal with ingredients much more exotic than tomatoes.”

She couldn’t help it. She reached out, gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him to her.

His lips were the perfect combination of soft and firm—everything she wanted them to be. She wanted to pull him even closer. To lose herself in the kiss.

But then he pulled back.

It stung. Tension floated in the air between them. His eyes were so serious as they pinned hers.

She let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Don’t know what I was—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. He reached over to turn off the stove top.

Then his lips were back on hers.

One hand slid into her hair, the other wrapped around the small of her back and slid her closer to him on the counter. He tilted her head so he had better access to her mouth, and when she gave a surprised little gasp, he took advantage of it, teasing her tongue with his.

She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She shuddered as he deepened the kiss, senses reeling as his tongue demanded more of hers. She slid even more forward until their bodies pressed up against each other. Both of them moaned.

And then the power blew, leaving them in darkness.