by Melody Grace
“Hey! You got the party started without me!” I greet them, dumping my stuff on the lawn. I fish a toy from my bag. “Look who left his favorite duckie in the backseat of my car?” I toss it to Lottie, who catches it with a sigh of relief.
“Thank you! I thought we were going to have a serious meltdown on our hands, until Sawyer distracted him with the puppy.”
Kit is splashing happily—with a tiny furry friend.
“You got another one?” I cry, turning to Sawyer. “C’mon, I thought we agreed, three was enough.”
“She’s right.” Lottie grins. “What’s the male version of a cat lady? Because you’re halfway there already.”
Sawyer shrugs, smiling. “What am I supposed to do? They’re all so helpless and needy and cute.”
“Remind me never to take you to a club on ladies’ night,” I snort with laughter. Not that he needs to go out to have women throw themselves at him. As a young, handsome vet, Sawyer is pretty much the most eligible bachelor in town—or at least, he was, until Will Montgomery showed up.
“Tell that to Missy Anderson,” Lottie calls, sing-song.
I arch an eyebrow at Sawyer, sauntering over to hand him a beer. “Missy, huh? She’s a little on the older side, but maybe cougars are just your type.”
“Don’t.” Sawyer looks embarrassed. “She’s got it in her head I’m going to be her new toyboy. She keeps showing up at the animal rescue asking about adopting. Except, she only wants a hypoallergenic shih tzu. She actually asked if we had any ‘in stock.’ ”
I laugh. “Aww, you could do worse. I heard she cleaned out Mr. Anderson in the divorce. You could be leading a life of leisure, and all you’d have to do is parade around in some tight swim trunks from time to time.”
Sawyer elbows me good-naturedly. “Keep it up, and you won’t get fed.”
“No!” I press my hand to my forehead. “Anything but that!”
He shakes his head, and goes back to the grill. I pull up a lawn chair and stretch, yawning. “Late night?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Early morning. I got a pretty hard workout.”
“Really?” Sawyer drawls, giving me a look.
I toss a hotdog bun at him. “Not like that! I went for a run.” Will’s face flashes into my mind again. I change the subject. “How are things at the rescue?”
“Great. We’re building out another shed to house the dogs, and it’s breeding season, so—” He stops himself. “Sorry, vet stuff. Moving on.”
“Hey, it’s OK. I know you love those smelly, fluffy beasts.”
“Delilah Morgan, animal lover,” he teases.
“I love them just fine, like the way I love kids.” I grin, taking a sip of beer. “When they’re clean, groomed, and sleeping soundly.”
“We heard that.” Lottie approaches from behind, with Kit bundled up in a towel.
I grin. “This guy’s my exception. C’mere.” I pull Kit into my lap and ruffle his wet hair. He laughs and squirms against me. “You’re not like the other boys, are you?”
Kit shakes his head, smiling, jam smeared on his cheek. I drop a kiss on his forehead and squeeze him tight. “One of these days, you’re going to be breaking hearts and taking names.”
Lottie groans. “Don’t even say that. He’s already the most popular guy in day-care. The other moms keep talking about his new girlfriends. I’m like, please, he’s two years old, he’s not even potty-trained. Let’s save dating until he can count to five.”
We laugh. I feel my stomach rumble, and shoot a longing look at the grill. “How much longer until we feast? I’m running on pure sugar here.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “Will it kill you to eat a balanced meal? There’s some veggies and dip in the house.”
“And?”
“And Doritos,” he adds, sighing. I bounce up.
“Be right back!”
I head inside and raid Sawyer’s fridge. Nothing but fruit, vegetables, and a lone container of salsa. This guy is way too healthy—just one of the million reasons why we’ve never hooked up. That, and the fact he had a thing for my friend Eva when he first moved to town. Once I shifted him into the “friend” box in my mind, there was no going back. I love the guy, but I’d go crazy trying to date him for more than five minutes—and hungry.
I crunch a carrot as I balance the chips and whatever junk food I can scrounge and head back outside. Lottie and Sawyer are talking about something, but when I get closer, they fall silent.
“What’s up?” I ask, ripping into the food.
They exchange a look. “Nothing!” Lottie says brightly. “Mmm, pass me some of that celery?”
I do, as Sawyer’s phone sounds. He checks it, then grins, before quickly tucking it away. I look between them again. “Seriously, what’s going on? You guys are acting weird.”
“What? Weird? No!” Lottie sizes me up. “Did you bring your suit? The water’s great.”
“I think the pool’s a little small for me,” I say slowly, still trying to figure this out.
“Then let’s just sunbathe instead,” Lottie insists. “You look really cute in that red bikini. You’re in great shape these days.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Maybe later,” I add, looking between them again. There’s definitely something they’re hiding, but it’s too beautiful a day to waste. I shrug. “You guys keep your little secrets, me and Kit are going to blow some epic bubbles, isn’t that right?”
I scoop him up, ready to grab the supplies I bought, when Lottie sees something behind me. Her face brightens. “Hey, you made it!”
“Sure, sorry I’m running late.” That voice comes again. The sexy drawl that’s been following me all around town, at least, that’s what it feels like. I turn, bracing myself, but nothing can prepare me for the sight of Will in a faded T-shirt that brings out the green in his eyes. He looks puzzled for a moment, almost like he’s surprised to see me. Then he holds up a grocery bag, and gives me an irresistible grin. “I brought ice cream.”
With a cherry on top.
Six.
The guys head inside to go fetch more beers, but the minute they’re out of hearing distance, I grab Lottie. “What are you playing at?” I hiss, keeping my voice down.
“Me? Nothing!” She beams. “Sawyer ran into him at the bar the other night, and they hit it off. Something about sports,” she gives an innocent shrug. “It’s a small town, you know how it goes.”
“Sure,” I reply, those butterflies in my stomach starting their nervous dance. So much for a relaxed, easygoing afternoon. Now I’m going to be on edge all day, hyper-aware of whenever Will speaks, or smiles, or even looks at me . . .
“What’s the problem, anyway?” Lottie asks, sounding casual. “You said it yourself, he’s not chasing after you. So if you don’t want to date him, we can all just be friends, right?”
“Right,” I echo quietly as she heads inside, leaving me and Kit to our games. I find the bubble supplies, and start showing him how to blow through the loop of soapy liquid, but I keep glancing back towards the house. What’s he doing here? Did he know I was friends with Sawyer too? Soon, they all emerge again with plates of food for the grill, and Will wanders over to say hi to Kit.
He sits on the lawn beside us, stretching his long legs out in front. “Those are some pretty epic bubbles,” he says casually. “Mind if I try?”
“Sure.” My voice sounds weirdly perky. Get it together. “Here, use mine.”
I pass him the wand, and watch as he blows a stream into the air. Kit scrambles around trying to catch them, still unsteady on his feet. Will smiles, watching him. “Just to be clear, I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says, looking over. “Sawyer just said it would be a fun group. I don’t want you to feel like I’m following you around or anything.”
I let out a slow sigh of relief. It didn’t seem like Will to push the subject. “Sorry. I didn’t know anything about it either. I think my friends are trying to play match-maker.”
“They�
�ve got good taste,” he quips, and I laugh, relaxing.
“They mean well, I think. Anyway, sorry you got railroaded.”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind. It’s good to meet people, and your friends seem like fun.”
I look over to where Lottie and Sawyer are stationed by the grill. They’re watching us closely, but quickly turn away, pretending to talk about the meat. “Fun, with zero sense of boundaries sometimes.” I look back at Will. “Don’t you miss everyone, back in New York?” I ask, curious. “You must have left friends behind, family . . . ?”
He picks up his beer and takes a slow sip. “It’s not too far. I’m actually closer to my folks now, so I’m already getting the third degree about when I’ll come visit more.”
I laugh. “Tell me about it. My parents moved only an hour away. My mom seems to think that means I should be over for dinner three times a week. I mean, I love them, but . . .”
“Not that much,” Will finishes, grinning.
The sunlight hits his face, making his tan glow golden, and his messy dark hair looks threaded with light. I feel something tighten in my chest, an inexplicable desire to reach up and push it out of his eyes, lean into his broad shoulders, find that nook against his chest where I already know I fit just right.
I grab the bubble wand instead. “I can’t believe you bought some place without calling me first,” I say brightly, trying to get the conversation back to safer ground. “You had my realtor card and everything.”
Will chuckles. “So you’re just mad you lost out on a sale? Sorry to disappoint. The truth is, it all moved pretty fast. I looked around online, found a spot, and bought it before I even stepped foot in town.”
“That’s . . . impulsive,” I say.
He smiles. “Guess I was just ready for a change. When it’s right, it’s right,” he adds, holding my gaze.
My cheeks flush with heat, and I feel it again, that restless, nervous buzz in my veins. Electric.
Dangerous.
I scramble to my feet. “You guys need any help?” I call over to Sawyer and Lottie, needing to put some distance between us.
“All set,” Sawyer announces, waving his grill tongs in triumph. “Time to eat!”
We feast on hot dogs, burgers, and all the fixings, sitting around the table on Sawyer’s back deck under the shade of the old oak tree. I’m relieved to find it’s not awkward at all with Will; he fits in easily, chatting with Lottie, and talking sports and music with Sawyer like he’s always been here.
“We’ll have to go to the county fair,” Lottie declares, already planning our summer. “Ooh, and we can all rent a boat and go out on the water, there are some great beaches you can only get to by sea.”
“Easy there,” I tell her. “Nobody ever tell you to play hard to get?”
Lottie laughs. “Please, I’m desperate, I need new friends,” she tells Will. “My sister just up and left, and now I’m all alone.”
Sawyer snorts. “And what does that make us?”
“I thought you were meeting all these cool moms?” I ask.
“Yes, but they’re all the way over in Beachwood Bay.” Lottie sighs. “Nobody can just hang out without making all these plans.”
Will leans back in his seat, giving a slow smile. “So what you’re really saying is you need a new last-minute babysitter.”
There’s a pause, then we all burst out laughing. “Busted,” I tell Lottie as she tries to pout. Sawyer grins, and sends another beer sliding down the table to Will.
“Welcome, buddy. I can already tell you’re going to fit right in.”
We clear the table and head inside, while Lottie takes Kit upstairs to clean up. “So what’s the plan for the rest of the afternoon?” I ask Sawyer, cleaning up in the kitchen.
“Lottie roped me into doing a Costco run,” he replies, setting dishes in the sink.
“Ha,” I laugh. “She tried that one on me, too.”
“It’s OK.” He shrugs. “I need some stuff. And you know how she gets when she pulls the whole puppy-dog eyes thing.”
“You’re a soft touch.” I smile. “Enjoy the multipacks of kitchen towels. I’ll be sitting around at the auto shop. I need Eddie to take a look at my car.”
“Let me guess,” Will’s voice comes. He’s leaning in the doorway. “You need to override the locks again.”
“Not this time,” I protest. “The engine’s making a weird rattling noise whenever I go too slow.”
“I can take a look,” he offers.
“No, it’s OK.”
Will looks at me. “How long is this Eddie going to take? It might be a simple fix.”
I pause. I have showings all week, and if I can’t get the town mechanic to skip me to the front of the line, I’ll have to reschedule them all. “Sure,” I finally agree. “Thanks.”
I lead him out front and start the engine, while Will lifts the hood and peers in. “It’s your carburetor,” he says, after listening for a moment. “Shouldn’t take more than five minutes to fix. I’ve got my tools back at home.”
“Really?” My hope rises. “You’d be doing me a big favor. This thing has been nothing but trouble. It almost makes me wish I’d kept Berta.”
“Berta?” Will closes the hood, smiling.
“My old beater,” I explain. “She wasn’t glamorous, but she never let me down.”
“Give this guy a chance,” Will says. “You just need to get to know him, that’s all.”
I wonder for a moment if he’s still talking about the car, but then Lottie comes out. I grab my stuff and say my goodbyes, then get behind the wheel, following Will’s ancient truck as he heads out of town.
Way out of town.
I peer at the winding road ahead. I know pretty much every square mile of Oak Harbor, but even this is getting rural, way out in the woods. Private. Alone.
I feel a shiver, but immediately scold myself. What am I so worried about? Will isn’t the kind of guy to jump me. No, but you might just wind up pinning him down for another kiss . . .
I flush. A short, wild fling is one thing, but Will lives here now, which means he has “boyfriend material” written all over him. Roughly translated to, a very bad idea. I can keep my hands to myself if it means keeping things simple. Friendly.
Totally platonic.
I follow Will off the main road and down a twisting, bumpy dirt track. I’m already regretting the mud on my tires by the time we pull up in front of . . . well, let’s just say “shack” is being generous. I scramble out of the car and look at the run-down buildings in horror. “Tell me which realtor sold you this pile of crap, and I’ll go kick his ass,” I vow fiercely.
Will bursts out laughing. “Relax, I’ve got it under control,” he says. “They’re fixing the roof, and there’ll be running water by next week.”
“There’s no running water!” I yelp, before catching myself. I take a deep breath. This is his business, and it’s not like I’m going to be hanging out here. “Sounds . . . great,” I say instead, following him around to the workshop in back. Unlike the rest of the property, this space is spotless: swept out and scrubbed down, with two work benches already set up and tools hanging neatly on the wall. Will heads for the boxes stacked in the back while I wander, taking it in. “What are these?” I ask, trailing my fingertips over some weird metal tools.
Will looks up from a box. “That’s a sander and the big one is a jig,” he explains. “They were my grandfather’s. He worked as a craftsman, building furniture and restoring old houses.”
“That’s great,” I say, then notice a couple of chairs in the corner: their wood smoothed to an antique sheen, with cracked leather seats, so soft-looking I have to stop myself from taking a seat. “Are these his?”
Will straightens up. “No, I made those.”
“Really?” I move in to take a closer look. “They’re beautiful. I could swear they were a hundred years old.”
“That’s the point.” He looks almost bashful, his hands shoved in h
is pockets. “I love working with old, reclaimed wood, vintage materials. It’s like everything’s already lived a dozen lives over, this is just the latest chapter in their story.”
I look at him anew. I never would have guessed. “Is this what you did back in New York?”
He gives a short laugh. “No. I had a studio space, where it all just sat, gathering dust. But I thought, maybe, down here, I could spend more time on it . . .” Will pauses, a shy expression on his face. “There are some great design stores in the city. I thought maybe when I have more of a portfolio, I could see about them carrying a few pieces.”
“That’s great,” I say, impressed.
He shrugs, still low-key. “We’ll see. Keeps me busy, at least.”
“No, I mean it,” I insist. “You have a real talent, Will. You should be proud of it.”
Will glances up, and our eyes catch. “Thank you,” he answers softly, his eyes green in the cool shadows of the old workshop. Something pulses in the air between us, a dry static, sharp and hot, making my pulse kick and my body shiver with awareness. The silence washes over me, the stillness, so far from town. There’s nobody here, no-one to stop me if I took a step closer, and ran my hands over the broad planes of his chest, found those cool, steady lips with my own—
Will looks away. “Now, let’s see about your carburetor,” he says loudly, and I snap out of it.
What are you thinking? I remind myself, as he collects his tools and heads outside. He’s off-limits, remember?
Back out front, Will opens the hood of my car, then reaches to tinker with the engine. I decide to keep a safe distance away, back by the house, but it turns out there’s nowhere on the property safe from his charms, because after a moment, he notices the grease he’s getting on his shirt, and pulls it off—balling it into a wad and tossing it to the ground so he’s just working in his jeans, his broad shoulders naked under the hot sun.
