Page 24 of Stony Point Summer
“You heard me,” Jason says as he sets his shoes aside on the sand. “It’s hot. Let’s walk in the water.”
“But your leg. The water, it’s … it’s not good for your prosthesis.”
“Eh. A little bit won’t hurt.” He looks at her and hitches his head to a glasslike Long Island Sound.
“No.” Maris shakes her head and backs up a step. She’s not sure where this sudden change came from, the disregard for his leg. “And anyway, I really don’t want to get my feet wet.”
Jason’s already ventured ankle-deep into the salt water. He looks over his shoulder at her, then sends a casual splash in her direction.
“Jason! IsaidI don’t want to get my feet wet.”
“Seriously?” He walks backward, deeper. The water laps at his knees. “It’s so blessed hot out. Didn’t that splash feel good? Cool you off some?” As he says it, he lifts another splash her way, a stronger one this time.
Maris jumps further back, away from that water he’s messing with. She circles around, though, because … okay. Two can play at this game. So she gets herself to just near the shallows, reaches over and splasheshimthen, too, before stepping quickly back onto the sand.
Jason, well, he doesn’t jump away. He takes every drop of her splash head-on. Not only that, he steps closer to her. And scoops up a mountain of water, using both cupped hands.
“Jason Barlow, I’m warning you,” Maris says as she takes a slow step backward.
He freezes—then tosses the water at her.
“Oooh!” she yells when it splatters across her white tee and silver medallion necklace. Then she dishes the water right athim, running off to the side and managing a handful in his direction. The cool splash sprays across his back when he twists away.
“Why can’t you get your feet wet?” he asks, scooping a handful of water onto his face. “Especially in this heat.”
“Because then I’ll get sand in my shoes walking home. And they’re my brand-new slip-ons. So I’ll have to clean off my feet first, and …” She just waves him off and backs up another step.
Which gets him to take a matching step toward her. “Wait. You live at the beach, and won’t get your feet wet because ofsand? Are you kidding me?” He scoops up another handful of water and tosses this one through his dark hair.
“No! I’mnotkidding.” She steps away again, and he matches her stepagain—moving suddenly closer. “Back off, Jason.”
Saying nothing, he sloshes out of the water.
“Jason …”
Shaking his head, he keeps walking toward her.
“Jason! Don’t you dare.”
* * *
Jason’s not sure he ever met a dare he didn’t take. And he’s not about to brush off this one. Not when it gives him a rare chance to hold Maris close, the best he can anyway.
So he takes the dare. After a few quick steps—zigging this way first, then that way—he catches her and scoops her up.
“Jason!” she cries while punching at his shoulder.
“Shh.” He presses his mouth to her ear. “Carol’s on her deck, watching.”
Maris looks over her shoulder to the Fenwick cottage on the end of the beach, all as Jason sloshes back into the water. But she looks at Carol there for only a second, after which she swats at Jason and harshly whispers, “Put me down!”
“Right here?” He walks in deeper so that the water is above his knees. “Okay, sweetheart.” With that, he dips her backside low enough to get her wet.
“Ooh!” she growls, trying to loosen out of his hold while kicking her rigid legs. “You …You—”
Jason steps further into the dark water. The water sweeps around his thighs now. He’s quiet, but his breathing is heavy. So is Maris’. Her chest rises with each indignant breath. And her arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, so there’s that. Okay, she might be holding on for dear life, but still. He cradles her closer,hisarms looped beneath her legs, her back. Still he says nothing; he’s glad to just be holding her. To be feeling the weight of her. To be seeing the tired shadows beneath her eyes, up close. Feeling wisps of her escaped hair brushing against the skin on his arms.
“That’senoughnow,” Maris is warning between her teeth. “You. Put. Me. Down.”
