Page 50 of I'm Not Yours
“Yes, oh me, oh my.”
“Me, oh my, too,” he said softly, and oh me, oh my, I could tell that man was struggling hard not to laugh.
Who was this man? And why, after almostdrowning, was I all aflutter?
He held the pink cows up again. “I don’t think I’m going to forget today.”
“Me, neither. And not only because of the cow bra.” Soaked, freezing, a summer rain drenching us, we laughed.
And that was the beginning. The laughter was the beginning.
The beginning of Reece and me.
3
Later that night, wrapped up on my bed in my blue crocheted feather-filled comforter, eating only a small piece of apple pie with whipped cream, okay,twopieces, the waves pounding on the surf, I re-entertained myself with the rest of my conversation with Reece . . . He tucked the wet cows into the wad of clothes. I took a deep breath. “It’s a long walk; you don’t have to come back with me. I can return your jacket.”
“No way. I’m not letting you walk back alone. I’ll see you home to get something dry on, then we’re going to the hospital.”
“The hospital? Not a chance. I don’t enter hospitals. They make me nervous.”
“Me, too, but you’re going. You swallowed a lot of water, and I want them to check your lungs and make sure you didn’t take a knock to the head.”
“I can take myself to the hospital.”
“I’ll take you.” He smiled with nice white teeth and stuck out his hand. “Reece O’Brien.”
“Nice to meet you, Reece.” I shook his hand. My hand trembled. “I’m June MacKenzie.”
“June? Were you born in June?”
The light rain suddenly turned into a deluge as we headed to the stairway. I was a double-drowned rat. “No.”
“Oh.”
He seemed pleasantly baffled.
“It’s a family name, then?”
I didn’t want to explain. It was a wee bit embarrassing to talk about sex in front of him. “June is the month when my parents conceived me.”
“Ah. I see.”
I stared straight ahead at the pounding surf.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” he asked.
“Yes, three of them.”
“What are your sisters’ and brothers’ names?”
I could see the hazel flecks in those green eyes, a crooked scar by his right eye, another on top of his left cheekbone.I want to kiss the scars. . . . Whoa, June! Had I just thought that?I want to kiss the scars. Where the heck had that come from? I was off men, completely! Done with men!
“Did you forget your brothers’ and sisters’ names?” He smiled at me.
I smiled back. He had such nice . . . lips! “What? No. No. I know their names.”
Yes, I did. I knew my brother’s and sisters’ names, but my, how would it feel to hug a man that size? Oh, shoot!What was I thinking?“I know their names,” I said again, with a bit of defiance, but I heard my voice come out as a whisper. “I do.”
