Risky Moves - Carrie Alexander

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“But I suspect he’s changed some after the car accident.”

      “Maybe you’ll get the chance to find out?” Cathy gave her a sisterly little nudge.

      “Maybe.”

      “Try to persuade him to stay, will you?”

      Julia was going to say that Adam had never before paid any attention to her requests, but just then Allie and a swarm of eager guests arrived, buzzing with excitement over the bridal bouquet and the newlyweds’ impending departure. Julia was swept into the celebratory crowd despite her reluctance. She didn’t believe in superstition and sentiment—she believed in drawing up a plan and making things happen.

      The wedding guests surged out of the restaurant into the gravel parking lot. Zack’s black Jaguar was decked out in shaving cream, ribbons of crepe paper, tin cans, pinwheels and the traditional Just Married placard. Julia picked Adam out from the crowd, her heart expanding when she saw the genuine smile on his face. The honey-colored glow of the sunset caught in his mossgreen eyes, lighting them up like twin fireflies.

      Ten years, she thought, her chest hurting. I’ve been feeling like this for ten years. That’s long enough.

      Long enough to make even a sane woman ready to jump out of an airplane.

      Cathy and Zack stood on the doorstep beneath the deep stone arch of the entrance, looking exactly like the model couple for a wedding cake topper. They hugged Zack’s parents and Cathy’s dad, Admiral Wallace Winston Bell, then ran toward their getaway vehicle in a shower of flower petals. Cathy paused at the open car door, held up her bouquet to a cheer from the crowd and with a graceful flick of her wrist tossed it high in the air.

      The single women jostled for position. Julia followed the bouquet’s spinning arc, her hands involuntarily reaching to the sky before she remembered and pulled them in. Gwendolyn Case, a token member of the Heartbroken club even though she’d already been married and divorced twice, made an impressive leap and catch despite the billowing skirts of her size eighteen pumpkin-colored bridesmaid dress and size eleven dyed-to-match pumps. A roar went up from the guests as the admiral swept her up for a big hug and smooch.

      As Zack and Cathy drove away in a clatter, Julia met Adam’s eyes over the milling crowd. I don’t want a bridal bouquet. I’m as free and easy and daring as you, she wanted to say, but settled for a little smile of mutual amusement before his extended family of uncles and in-laws and cousins thrice removed descended en masse, blocking him from view.

      Poor Adam, she thought, getting an idea.

      2

      YES, INDEED. Now that she was eighteen and officially legal, making love to Zack was the safe, even expected thing to do. None of their friends would have believed they’d held out this long, considering they’d been going together for two years. Julia wasn’t sure why they had delayed, except that she’d always pulled back at the last moment. Losing her virginity was a momentous occasion, and she was a cautious person.

      Too cautious, maybe.

      “It’s now or never,” she vowed, but flinched when a knock at the door finally came. How silly. She’d considered the situation very carefully before deciding that Zack was the one. There was no reason to be unsure about letting him in.

      It would be okay. Julia put her hand on the knob. Zack was the safe, smart choice. He would take care of her.

      “JULIA!” The cries went up.

      “Girlfriend! You made it! Come and join the party.”

      “Hot damn, another bridesmaid!”

      Adam didn’t chime in. Instead he crouched to feed another piece of wood into the bonfire, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes off the latest arrival at the impromptu beach party. Julia wore black leggings with low boots and a bulky sweater, her hair pulled straight back from her face. When she turned to accept a beer from Fred, the firelight gilded her profile like the delicate, curved designs on a Chinese vase. She’d always had a way about her—neat, clean, exacting, pedestal pure. Even after he’d ruined it all by touching her.

      The flames leaped, devouring the dry wood. He threw on a chunk of punky log. Sparks rose in a glittering curtain. Rocking back on his heels, he watched as they dispersed, finding one glowing fleck that floated high in the dark sky, following a meandering path before finally winking out.

      Most of the crowd sat on lawn chairs or beach blankets. Julia passed up a couple of offers, circling the group until she came to Adam. “Have a seat,” he said after an awkward moment, aware of her in his peripheral vision even though his gaze remained on the crackling fire.

      “Hi.” She sat on the old felled log he’d been using as a seat. It had been on this beach for as long as he remembered.

      “Hi.”

      “There’s room for two.”

      The fire wasn’t going anywhere. He edged backward until he was perched on the log. Half buried in the sand, it was weathered gray and smooth, all but a few stubborn shreds of bark worn off by countless numbers of beach bums.

      “Want a beer?” she said, tilting her bottle.

      “I’ve got one, thanks.” He reached for it, tucked out of the way in a fork of the log’s broken branches.

      The tension between them seemed unbearable. What had happened to his long resolve to treat her as just another of his brother’s admirers? It had worked for years, keeping them from exchanging more than the average meaningless chitchat. And stopping him from touching her, except for the occasional quick hug hello or a casual brush of the shoulders or hands or hips.

      Had Zack’s marriage ripped away the chains?

      No. Adam’s limbs wouldn’t feel so heavy and his reactions so slow if that were the case.

      The electric shock zinging through his veins he could ignore if he kept trying.

      Julia looped her arms around her knees. “I can’t help thinking that Zack should be here,” she said softly, keeping their conversation to themselves among the more raucous back-and-forth of the others.

      “I miss him, too.”

      “He’s always been the leader of this crowd.” She scanned the circle of good friends, laughing and talking in the warm, radiant glow of the fire. “Even with most of us married or moved away, busy with careers and children, we’ll always be close. That’s what’s so special about small towns.”

      “Is that why you chose to live in Quimby permanently?”

      She glanced at him, then quickly away. “Sure. Partly.”

      He didn’t press. He never did—not with Julia. It wouldn’t do him any good to know the answers.

      Arm’s length, he thought. A safe distance. Even though he could feel her, sitting beside him so blamelessly, their legs not quite touching. Her cheek was rosy in the firelight, the smooth sweep of her ponytail honey gold threaded with a rich amber brown. He’d never stopped wanting to touch her hair. Her face. Her throat. Her breasts.

      “I was surprised that Zack came back,” he said, “after all the trouble with Laurel and the wedding that wasn’t.” His brother was a good subject to keep between them.

      “Oh, no. Zack belongs here.”

      “Not like me.”

      Someone had brought a CD player. Fred jumped up and shook his rump—and his beer gut—in an attempt to get Allie to dance around the fire with him. Jeering, she pelted him with corn chips. Through all the noise, Zack heard Julia’s quick intake of breath.

      “How can you say that?” She leaned closer, looking him full in the face with her hand on his knee. “You belong here as much as anyone.”

      “I’m no Zack.”

      She gave

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