Ann felt a glow as she climbed onto the bike and wrapped her arms around Heath’s waist. He was getting her a helmet. There would be more times like this.
“Okay back there?” he said, turning his head.
“Fine.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t care,” Ann said, and she didn’t.
They roared off down the incline from the marina to the street, and when Heath reached the road he opened up the bike, traveling at a rate of speed that made the wind whistle in Ann’s ears and the nighttime scenery merge into a blur. She leaned forward and put her head against the back of Heath’s shoulder, closing her eyes and just enjoying the sensation of his warm, muscular body under her hands. When she finally felt the bike slow down she was almost sorry, raising her head to see that Heath was pulling into a clearing above the bay. They were on a height looking out toward the causeway bridge, which twinkled with strings of lights in the warm and fragrant darkness.
“It’s so pretty,” Ann said as he helped her off the bike. “How did you know about this spot? I’ve lived on Lime Island all my life and have never been here.”
“I drive around a lot,” he answered shortly. He untied the sweatshirt from his waist and spread it on the ground for her to sit upon in comfort. The innate gallantry of the gesture pleased her, and she sat with great ceremony, curling her legs under her.
“Where are we?” Ann asked.
“The hills above Port Lisbon. That’s the commercial dock area down below, where you see the boats.” He lay back on the grass and folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the stars. She could just see the white bandage near his thumb, smaller now. He had replaced the gauze pack from the hospital with a square of white tape.
Ann waited for him to speak, certain that he would, but curiously not anxious to rush him. Normally she was one of those people who charged in to fill the gap when a silence fell, but already she knew that with Heath, the situation was different.
He was not a talker.
He sat up suddenly and she could tell that he was looking at her, even though all she could see in the dim and filtered moonlight was his clean profile.
“Princess, I have to tell you the truth here,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to scare you, but I’ve never felt like this before, and I want to make sure you feel the same before this goes any further.”
Ann held her breath, listening.
“Ever since we met on your father’s boat, I’ve felt so drawn to you... like I have to be with you. Obviously I was fighting it the first day—I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. It was happening so fast, so strong, and I know I have nothing to offer somebody like you.”
“That isn’t true,” Ann protested. He held up his hand to stop her.
“Let me finish. When you came to see me tonight, I realized that you must be feeling the same thing.”
“I am,” Ann said softly.
“Okay. Then you should know about me. You’re going to hear things from people—Lime Island is small and Port Lisbon is even smaller. Even though you didn’t go to school here, you’re going to be around all summer and Luisa Sanchez, who lives two blocks away from me, works in your house. I want you to know the facts.”
“All right.”
He sighed and stared off into the distance. “My father is the town drunk. He hasn’t worked at all in about ten years, lives off welfare and has a buzz on by about eleven in the morning. In the afternoon he passes out on the sofa and gets up to stagger around a few hours in the evening before crashing into bed. Or in a chair, or on the floor. Whatever’s handy.”
Ann said nothing.
“His daddy was a full-blooded Seminole, and he says it’s the Indian blood in him that makes him drink, but I think he’s just a lazy bastard who likes to lap up the sauce. As for my mother, she took off when I was nine, about the time my father really started to go downhill. I have no idea if his decline was the cause or the result of her leaving. We don’t know where she is, and I don’t care. Before she left she was an embarrassment, anyway, the friendly type, if you get my drift. She was especially friendly to anyone passing through who might have a few bucks to spend on her. I guess she wasn’t getting much attention from the old man, but it’s all water under the bridge now.”
He was relaying all this in a dispassionate voice, obviously unwilling to be the object of sympathy, but Ann couldn’t help saying, “But who took care of you when she left? You were only a little boy.”
“My older sister did what she could when she was still home. She would have been twenty-five now. She got into drugs, easy enough to do in my neighborhood, and wound up going to Miami to support her habit. She died of an overdose about ten months ago.”
Although Ann had already gotten most of this from Amy, hearing it come from his mouth as though he were discussing the weather had a chilling effect on her. She sat in silence for so long that he finally said flatly, “If you’re sorry you came up here with me, I’ll take you home now.”
Ann ran to fling herself on him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face against his chest. His arms came around her immediately in response, and she heard him sigh, whether in relief or gratitude at her reaction it was impossible to say.
“You know,” he said above her head, with a catch in his voice, “you should be more careful. You don’t really know me, Princess. I could have brought you up here to rape and murder you.”
“Ever since I saw your face when you locked the door of the office at Jensen’s garage, I wasn’t afraid of you,” Ann replied softly. “Only of what I might do because of the way I feel.”
His grip tightened and she felt him kiss the top of her head lingeringly.
“Shouldn’t I tell you something about me now?” Ann inquired comfortably, closing her eyes.
“I already know about you. Henry Talbot is your father, that’s enough.”
“Don’t you want to know if I have a boyfriend?”
“If you did, you now have a new one,” he said confidently, adjusting his position to draw her even closer.
Ann giggled. He might be insecure about his family’s varied problems, but regarding his appeal to women he knew that he was on firm ground.
“My friend Amy says that all the girls in Palm High were after you,” Ann said.
“Who the hell is Amy?”
“We go to Winfield Academy together. Her cousin, Carol Brady, graduated with you.”
“Carol Brady?”
“She was on the cheerleading team. Her father runs the hardware store in Laguna.”
“Oh, yeah. Long brown hair, glasses, big mouth.”
“That’s Carol.”
“Well, don’t believe everything you hear. People exaggerate. I was never with anybody like you, that’s for sure.”
Ann sat up and took his hand, lightly tracing the calluses on his palm with her index finger. “But you’ve had lots of experience, and I haven’t had any,” she said.
“How old are you, Princess?” he asked quietly, after a thoughtful pause.
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in January.”
He sighed heavily. “That’s what I thought. You’re underage in this state.”
“You won’t stop seeing me!” Ann said in a panic, clutching his hand.
“No, no,” he said, pulling her into his arms again. “We just have to go slow and be careful.”
“How slow?” she asked, running her lips along the firm line of his throat, feeling powerful and womanly with newfound desire. “How careful?”
He rolled her under him and kissed her wildly, until she was sinking her fingers into his lush hair and wrapping her legs around his hips, urging herself against him. He finally pushed her away and stood abruptly, walking a short distance to lean against a nearby tree, breathing harshly.
“This is going to be tougher than I thought,” he said at length, when he was under control again.
“I know I’m not helping,” Ann said, not quite ashamed of herself. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He sat a few feet away from her and said, “I have to ask you a question.”