Take a Chance on Me(113)

She stilled and it was probably better that he’d said it in the darkness, but oh, how he wanted to see her eyes. See if she could forgive him, too. “I’m so sorry for what I said. You do belong here. With Tiger. And . . . and with me, if you’ll have me. I know I really blew it, but I promise to be more patient, to listen and forgive and to make things right—”

She kissed him. Watery and trembling, her arm went around his neck and her lips found his. Kissing him like, yes, she’d forgiven him.

Yes, she belonged here, with him.

Darek wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning into her touch. Tasting the lake on her lips, her wet hair clinging to his face. Ivy.

“What are you two doing over there?”

“Shh, Claire. Leave my best friend alone.”





Best friend. Jensen relished the words just a moment before he leaned close to Claire, finding her ear, whispering in the darkness. “I love you too, you know. I’ve always loved you, Claire, even when I was stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“When I was chasing Felicity. I knew she loved Darek, and I was a jerk. Especially since the best day of my life was the day I met you.”

Jensen had just about died seeing her Yaris in flames, had another heart attack at the sight of her trapped in the house. But it would finish him off if he had to wait one more day to tell her the truth. “I know your grandfather told you that I offered to buy the land—and it’s true; I did. But you have to know that I also rescinded the offer. I am not taking your land—”

“It’s not my land,” Claire said. She’d turned in the water, and he felt her soft breath on his face. “And if my grandfather wants to sell it, then it’s his choice. God has other plans for me.”

He did? Oh, he didn’t want to be a fool, but . . . “Please tell me those plans include me.”

Please.

“Do you want them to?”

He had his hands on the stern seat, holding the canoe steady in the water. Now she wove her arm up, around his shoulder, hanging on.

“Yes,” he said. “Very much. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’ll probably have to do some time. But if you wait for me, I . . . well, I’ll follow you, Claire. Here or anywhere. If you let me, I’ll be right here, beside you. Cheering you on.”

She hooked her other arm around him, pulled herself to his chest. “Or maybe I’ll cheer you on.”

Then she leaned up and kissed him. Softly but taking him by surprise. His sweet, timid, saintly Claire, pulling herself tight against him, making him realize that indeed, so many years ago, he’d chased the wrong girl.

“I love you too, Jens.” She whispered it in his ear, then pressed her lips to his neck.

Oh. My. He wanted to put his arms around her, but the canoe just might topple over. All the same, he could see her face in his memory as he leaned forward, kissing her pretty little nose, those beautiful eyes that saw him and loved him anyway.

Despite his mistakes. His sins. Not because he earned it, but because she’d chosen to.

Yeah, maybe Gibs was onto something with all his preaching.

Around them, cinders fell on the water, sizzling. He was treading water, the bottom of the canoe hot, the air under it steamy. They kicked out farther from shore—he didn’t know how far, but enough that the water grew colder. Outside, the fury seemed to die, just a little.

“I have to see,” Darek finally said from the other end of the canoe.

“Are you sure?” Jensen said.

“What?” Claire whispered.

“He wants to see if Evergreen Resort is still standing.”

She said nothing, just laid her head against his chest.

“Ready, Dare?”

“Yeah.” But his voice was tight.

Jensen pushed the canoe up, over his head. It fell with a splash, upright.

He hung on to the gunwale then because his strength left him.

The fire had decimated the Gibson place, the home charred timber and ash, still burning in places, the fireplace the lone survivor. Even the dock had burned—was still burning, the old wood dropping into the water with a sigh.

Oh, Claire. He tightened his arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’re alive. That’s what matters,” she whispered.

In fact the fire had run all the way along the shore and then—

Stopped. At the corner of his property where he’d spent hours extending the sprinkler system into the pasture, the fire was dying, defeated by the plumes of spray protecting Pine Acres.

Beyond the shore, more charred forest gave way to the wet green pasture, where now he could make out yellow-shirted firefighters still mopping up the blaze.

He turned and followed the destruction along the shoreline, north.