He pulled her close, torn between a wave of emotion and a wave of attraction as her breasts pressed against his chest. “You’re never going to lose me,” he said, voice thick. “You’re going to have to run me off with a pack of dogs and a sharp stick if you want me out of your hair.”
She laughed, but her eyes were shinier than they’d been a moment before. “I don’t want you out of my hair. But I do want it washed.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said, holding up the toiletry bag in his free hand. “I took the liberty of grabbing your shampoo and conditioner from your suitcase.”
“Perfect. I can’t wait to be clean,” she said with a happy sigh. “But do you think we could go in the pool after? A swim sounds so nice.”
“I’d love to swim with you,” he said, leaning down to kiss first one of her cheeks and then the other, knowing he was never going to get tired of her sinfully soft skin, her salt and roses smell, or the way she was looking at him right now.
They showered efficiently, but without any real rush, taking turns in the stream of water with the ease of a couple that had spent years sharing the same space. There was none of the nervousness or awkwardness that so often followed a first time with a new partner. If anything, Bubba felt even more comfortable with Marisol, and he could tell she felt a hundred times more comfortable with him. It was clear in her every glance, every smile, even the way she eased into the pool with a blissful moan and turned over to float on top of the water, arms spread wide, toes wiggling, without a hint of shyness.
Bubba sat on the stairs, watching her beautiful body slip and slide in and out of the water as she swam to the rock wall and back, but the moment she stopped in front of him, her smile was all he could see. He was enamored of her body, but he was enchanted by her smile.
“I feel different here,” she said, taking a deep breath, as if inhaling the peace of the pool. “I know it might sound strange, but I feel like I could leave all the bad stuff behind. Right here, right now. Just…walk out of this water ready for a fresh start, and never look back.” She let her arms drift back and forth across the top of the water like a bird testing its wings. “Is that crazy?”
“No,” he said, reaching out to brush a damp curl from her forehead. “I think it sounds wonderful.”
“But probably impossible,” she said with a sigh, even as her eyes begged him to tell her that nothing was impossible, not for them.
“My grandma used to tell stories about this spring,” he said, pulling Marisol into his lap, loving the way the cool water swirled between them, seeming to bind them closer together. “She said it was a holy place for the Apache who lived in Lonesome Point before the settlers came, but that no one came here for a long, long time after the last members of the tribe were driven out.”
“Why?” Marisol asked, brows drawing together. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Apparently a group of Apache women and children traveling separately from a war party were massacred by soldiers not far from here,” he said. “The day after, miners on their way to Old Town said they saw this pool turn red, like it was filled with the blood of the innocent people who’d been killed.”
“God,” she said. “Those poor people.”
Bubba nodded. “After that, everyone was afraid the waters were cursed. It was part of the reason my great-great grandfather got such a deal on this land.”
Marisol snuggled into his chest as she turned to glance back at the pool. Now that the sun had slid behind the butte, the water was shaded and the pale blue surface had turned a deep, soothing azure that seemed to mock the horrible story he’d just told.
“I don’t know,” Marisol said. “This place doesn’t feel cursed. It feels holy. Like you said.”
“That’s what my grandma thought.” He pressed a kiss to her damp shoulder. “She came swimming here every day the summer before she left home when she was thirteen. She said it was what gave her the strength to leave the ranch and go looking for a better life.”
Marisol hummed beneath her breath. “Why did she need a new life? I thought the Lawsons loved their land.”
Bubba shrugged and used the movement as an excuse to pull Marisol closer, cradling her bottom in one hand. “She never said much to me, probably because I was so little when she died, but from the rumors I’ve heard around town, it sounds like her father beat her and her sisters. Dad was ashamed to come right out and admit we had a monster like that in our family, but he never had a good thing to say about gram’s father. It wasn’t too hard to read between the lines.”
Marisol glanced up at him, empathy in her eyes. “He shouldn’t have been ashamed. Just because you’re related to someone, doesn’t mean you’re responsible for the evil things they’ve done. Those sins belong to them, they don’t get passed along in the DNA.”
He held her gaze, not saying a word. He could sense she was moments away from realizing the importance of what she’d said, and it would have far greater impact coming from her own lips than from his.
After only a few silent beats, her eyes widened and she began to nod. “Right. And I am…the pot that called the kettle black.”
“You’re nothing like a pot,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Way too sexy to be a pot.”
“But I’ve done the same thing,” she said, shaking her head as she pulled away from him and stepped deeper into the water. “My parents obviously think they’re paying for my mistakes, but I never intentionally hurt them. They’re the ones who decided their embarrassment was more important than maintaining ties with their daughter.”
Bubba fought the urge to ask what the story was behind this “embarrassment.” Marisol would tell him when she was ready, and this moment was about convincing her to move on, not rehashing events that were clearly painful for her.
“But that’s their decision.” She sank lower in the water, until only the tops of her shoulders remained above the surface, before adding in a soft voice, “And I don’t have to own it. It’s not my fault.”
“You’re right,” he said. “How does that feel?”
“It feels…pretty damned good,” she said, a smile replacing the stunned expression on her face. “Kind of like a two hundred pound gorilla just jumped off my shoulders.”
Bubba laughed. “Good. Like I said, I don’t know all the details, but I know you don’t deserve a gorilla on your shoulders.”