“You could send out emails looking for sponsors or donations or organize fundraising events.”
“I could totally do that. Everyone loves a good 5K for a cause. That shouldn’t be too complicated to organize. There must be trails around here. We could even work in a canoe or kayak race around the pond or something. I’m three months away from my nursing degree too, so when I’m off, I can start putting those skills to use.”
“See? You’re perfect for this.”
“I can ask Derek if he’d be interested in helping as well. He has a lot of experience with grieving children.”
Skye had described Derek as a cross between an older brother and young father. Her social worker mentor would be a tremendous asset.
Brooke squeezed Skye’s shoulders. “That would be awesome. You’re all perfect. But I don’t want you to agree to anything too quickly. I’ll do some research and see if this is even possible. Who knows? The camp could be a money pit.”
“We could start a camp somewhere else,” Fish suggested.
Yeah, they could. But there was something alluring about Autumn Pond. Maybe it was the calmness she felt on the water, walking through the paths, and the view of Sugarloaf standing tall on the horizon. Or maybe because the four of them were finally together, and not for a funeral or hospital visit.
This was her new happy place. Alone or with friends, Autumn Pond gave her a renewed strength when she didn’t even think she’d been weak.
“No. It’ll be here. I’ll make it happen.”
And she would.
CHAPTER THREE
After four revisions on his outline for his editor, and countless more attempts at an opening line, Drew finally had a semblance of a first chapter to his latest book.
Maybe. True crime stories and the documentaries he’d found online had left him with next to no inspiration.
Ironically, it was Brooke and her innocent trespassing that had inspired him. A sort of spin-off on the old Friday the Thirteenth movies, minus the chainsaw and hockey mask.
He never thought he’d use a summer camp as the backdrop of one of his thrillers, but the story came to him a few weeks after he came across Brooke trespassing on the land. The story wouldn’t include children, though. That was too close to home.
Instead, the main characters were a group of adults who stumbled across an abandoned camp in the woods. There’d be murders, and they’d believe it to be the infamous hermit of Mount Kramer in northern Vermont. Only the murderer was amongst them.
He didn’t have a clue who the murderer was yet. Only time would tell. And other than a loose premise, the minor details and red herring had yet to be fleshed out. He had a semi-okay idea for a twist, but he needed to see how the characters interacted with each other before working it in. And he didn’t have a clue how to make it a three-book series.
Needing a break, he saved his file and closed his laptop, plugging it in to charge while he stretched his cramped limbs. Rolling his shoulders, Drew swiveled in his leather chair and hefted himself up.
The sun shone brightly in the sky and even though there was a slight chill in the air, it was warm for late-May in Maine. As long as he kept his balance and didn’t do anything stupid, he’d stay dry while paddleboarding.
He toed off his socks and tossed them onto the leather sofa behind his desk. It didn’t matter if it was eighty-five with a hundred percent humidity out, he needed his lucky socks on his feet to write.
He stripped off his long-sleeved tee on his way up the stairs to his bedroom and yanked on a red T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts.
Back downstairs, he found his sunglasses and slipped them on. His cell vibrated on the counter and he contemplated answering it but needed time to clear his head. Leaving it in the house, he went outside to the storage shed and carried out his paddleboard to the water.
Kayaking or jogging around the pond had been his exercise of choice for years until his sister bought him a paddleboard last summer for his birthday. Since he sat so much while writing, standing and working on his core had been his new favorite form of exercise.
Drew set the board in the shallow water and stepped on it, watching for a tilt to the left or right. Finding his balance, he pushed off the shore with his paddle and breathed in the silence.
His house was quiet too, but sometimes the walls grew loud as they closed in around him. It wasn’t like he was claustrophobic or hated his home. It was perfect for him. It had been his grandparents’ summer home, where he and his family had spent nearly every summer.
Most memories were pleasant, but those from the darkest times in his life shadowed over him and turned him into what his sister now called a recluse. He wasn’t. Drew didn’t mind people.
Just not people trespassing. Or people asking about his past. Writing was a solitary job; one that wasn’t often respected. Even with Stephen King as a friend, Drew still felt somewhat alone in the world.
It had been nearly a year since he and King got together to talk about writing. Usually, they kicked around ideas, brainstormed a story idea or two off each other, and then they’d go their separate ways and dive into the world of words.
There were other friends in his writing world, too. He had little time to spend with them or have much in common anymore now that most were married with kids. Funny how quickly he became the odd duck by not having a spouse or children. Being the bachelor wasn’t as fun as the movies made it out to be.
Not that Drew was depressed or lonely. He liked his life, even though the emptiness inside made him feel like something was missing.
A pair of loons flew into the water in front of him and he stopped to take in their beauty. The tranquility of Autumn Pond was something he wanted to preserve. It gave him a sense of belonging. A sense of protection from the outside world.
The birds, the ducks, even the wildlife that got into his garbage and scattered it all over his front yard respected his privacy. People, however, did not.
A fish jumped in the distance, causing a ripple effect in the water. This was nice. Quiet. Calm. In another month, vacationers would open up their camps and take out their boats.
Even though it was just a pond, Autumn Pond was large, more like a small lake. There was no public beach, keeping boat traffic to a minimum and his privacy as private as one could hope for. Only residents who lived on the water had boat access, and most of them preferred small motorboats for fishing. Canoes and kayaks were the transportation of choice, with the occasional party boat like his family’s making its appearance.
He’d enjoyed going out on it with his grandfather when he was young. But over time, as his sister and her family grew busy, and his parents used their retirement to travel, there was less and less use for a boat. It still sat in the garage, propped up and shrink-wrapped to keep the vermin out. Maybe he’d take it out this summer.
If he had the motivation.
Drew paddled on and steered his board right, toward the cove at the north end of the pond. Most homes were still closed, but he spotted a figure sitting in a beach chair in the grass at the edge of the water.
As he got closer, he recognized the short crop of hair and athletic build—noticeable even hunched over a laptop—of Brooke. The dip of his paddle in the water must have caught her attention, and she looked up with a startled expression on her face.
She squinted at him and closed her laptop. “Don’t tell me you own the entire pond and I’m trespassing too close to your water?”
Snarky. He kind of liked it. Better than ass-kissing or obnoxious. “I don’t own the water over here.”
“So that means you’re trespassing on my turf now.”
“You own this patch of pond?” He rested the blade of the paddle on his board.
“Sort of.” He waited for her to clarify. “I’m renting it.”
Drew cocked his head over his shoulder and surveyed the grassy area and the back windows of the small house. There were a handful of rentals mixed in with the summer people.
Only a few lived on the pond year-round. For the past two years, he’d been one of them.
His ghosts had haunted him for too long, and he was determined to face them and burn the memories away. He just hadn’t figured out how to do that yet.
“You’re pretty damn close to trespassing, though.”
He blinked away his thoughts and looked down, surprised at how close he’d drifted to the shore. His board skimmed the bottom and jerked to a stop as it hit the sand.
“I guess I am.” He stuck the bottom of his paddle in the sand and leaned against it like a cane. “Mind if I step ashore?”
“Hmm.” Her dark brow arched so high it nearly kissed her hairline. “If I say yes, it’s not trespassing, is it?”
“You’re pretty hung up on that, aren’t you?” He chuckled. Her teasing manner told him she didn’t mind, so he hopped off the board, not waiting for confirmation. The second his bare feet hit the water, he curled his toes under and hobbled up the embankment and onto the grass.
“Water’s still a bit chilly.” Brooke tucked her laptop under her arm and got up from the chair.
“We had a late spring. There was still ice on the water in some places a few weeks ago. Some swim Memorial Day weekend, but I usually wait until the end of July. Even then, the water never warms as much as some of the more southern lakes.”
“I think it’s refreshing. As long as you’re moving, it’s not that bad.”
“You’ve been swimming?” Drew shivered.
“I have a wetsuit. It cuts the chill while I grab some real estate.”
He furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Sorry. Army slang for exercise. Laps and push-ups. It’s my morning routine.”
Impressive. A woman in a bathing suit was a glorious image, but Brooke’s wide shoulders and muscular legs ensconced in a wetsuit? That sounded six kinds of sexy. And push-ups? Hell, he hadn’t done any in ages. He’d have to do a few sets when he got back home.
The swimming, however, he could do without.
“I hate to be cold.” He pulled his paddleboard out of the water and onto the grass.
“What happens if you fall in?”
“I won’t. I don’t.”
“Confident, are you?”
“Of some things.”
“Interesting.” Brooke swiped her tongue across her teeth and glared at Drew as if assessing him.
Another turn-on. He shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. The breeze had picked up, blowing a chill across his body.
“I’ve never been. Mind if I try?”
“Paddleboarding?”
“Yeah.” She brushed past him and toed the board in the water. “I’ll need this as well.” She took the paddle from him and waded into the water before he could argue.
“It’s harder than it looks.”
“Think I can’t do it because I’m a girl?”
“I never said that.”
“Implied.”
“Defensive much?” He watched her test the board with one foot, then the other. She held onto the shaft of the paddle and shimmied it back and forth, gaining her balance. When the wobbling stopped, she stood straighter and let the paddle dip into the water.
Brooke craned her neck and tossed him a wicked look over her shoulder. “Catch ya on the flip side.” She pushed off and moved with ease down the shoreline.
“First trespassing, now theft,” he called out.
Did she...? Yeah, she flipped him off. Drew chuckled as he kept a watchful eye on her. He liked how her athletic shorts pulled snugly over her full backside and showed off long, strong, muscular legs.
The dingy gray shirt she wore was loose around the waist but pulled tight around her shoulders. Broad. Strong. The woman wasn’t a weak one. She could hold her own.
She’d mentioned serving in the army. He supposed that’s where she gained her muscle, or she worked on it to get into the military. Either way, she was nice to look at.
A welcome change from his computer screen and from the women he usually dated.
Usually... more like used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out with a woman. A few months at least.
No, more like six or seven. Not since Labor Day weekend when his sister forced him on a blind date with her husband’s best friend’s sister.
So, make that eight months. It had to be his dry spell that made him susceptible to a woman who could probably outmatch him in any athletic competition and who was a smartass. He normally went for the quiet, demure woman who didn’t mind his need to be alone, his odd hours, and who preferred reading to watching television. Granted, he watched a lot of mindless TV, but it was mostly for research. Rarely did he watch to zone out.
Sophisticated women, that’s who he dated. It wasn’t that Brooke wasn’t; she was just... damned if he knew. There was something different about her that intrigued him.
He shielded his hands over his brow to block the sun and couldn’t help his smile as Brooke turned the board around and headed back toward him. The grin on her face showed all her pearly white teeth. Even wearing sunglasses, he could tell her big brown eyes were dancing with excitement.
“Told you I could do it,” she hollered, still a distance away.
“That’s because the water is calm. Try it when the boats are out,” he called back.
“Challenge accepted.”
Drew stepped back into the chilly water and held out his hand to help her off the board. “Had fun?”
“I did. It’s definitely harder than it looks. You have to really concentrate on your core.” Brooke cupped her free hand on her waist and tilted her torso to the left, then to the right, and Drew did all he could to avert his gaze from the straining letters across the front of her shirt.
“Anytime you want to take her out for a spin, let me know.” Drew pulled the board onto the shore and took the paddle from her.
“Will I get in trouble for trespassing on your property as well?” she asked with a smirk.
“If you’re uninvited, yes,” he teased back.
“I bet you sit outside in an ancient rocking chair with a rifle across your lap just waiting for trespassers.”
“You think I’m some old, ornery odd duck who hates people?” Unfortunately, he could see himself ending up that way.
“You’re not that old. Still have a few years left in you, I’d say. An odd duck? Possibly. Hates people? Just some.” Brooke crossed her arms and one of her eyebrows did that sexy ass tilt thing again.
She was poking fun at him. The only other person who ever teased him was his sister. All his other acquaintances treated him with friendly respect.
He used to have real friends when he was younger.
That was before.
“You okay? Did I hit a sore spot? I tend to speak my mind and don’t always think about hurting—”
“No. No. You’re good.” Drew attempted a semblance of a smile. “That old age crack, though. That one hurt.” He made a fist and pounded his chest over his heart.
Brooke lifted on her toes and peered at the top of his head. Drew only had a couple of inches on her, so they were nearly eye-to-eye.
“I don’t see any grays. Unless you dye your hair. You have really nice hair.”
Drew narrowed his eyes. “Um. Thanks?” As far as he knew, there were no grays. Not that it was uncommon to gray at thirty-five. He hoped he had a few more years before his body showed its age, though.
“I guess I’ve kept you away from your workout. And from work. Do you work around here?” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “Never mind. It’s me being nosy again. Not everyone has a Monday through Friday nine-to-five job. I should know that. Paddleboarding on a Tuesday afternoon doesn’t mean... I’ll stop. I normally don’t ramble. Sorry.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Don’t stop now. You’re stereotyping me and I’d like to hear what you think.” It was excellent fodder for his books. And a good lesson, too. He stereotyped characters for a living. H
earing an honest perspective from an unbiased person could be interesting.
“For real?”
“For real.”
“You won’t be offended by what I say?”
“I can’t promise that. If you think I’m a bum or a loser because I’m not working mid-week, or if you think I’m some sort of stalker or serial killer, I may have my feelings hurt.”
Although he did write about those types of people.
“Okay. Here it goes. This will be fun.” She joined her fingers, straightening her arms in front of her, and cracked her knuckles.
TOTALLY FUN. All sorts of illustrious thoughts swarmed through Brooke’s mind. When she first bumped into Drew, she hadn’t noticed the gentle laugh lines or the way his eyes crinkled when he teased her, and how the right side of his lip quirked up into an adorable grin.
Granted, he was royally pissed the first time they met. She hadn’t had time to ogle him, but now, standing just mere inches from her, she had no problem noticing the strong muscles in his forearms and bare calves. And it went beyond the physical.
“So, have at it.” He stuck the tip of the paddle into the soft earth and leaned on it. “Stereotype me.”
“You’re somewhat of a loner.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve never seen you with anyone.”
“You’re alone too, but I wouldn’t say you’re a loner.”
Funny. He sucked at this stereotype thing. Brooke was the textbook loner girl. But this wasn’t about her.
“I was with my girlfriends when we first met.”
“I’ll give you that.”
She scratched the back of her neck and continued, “You’re mysterious. It’s part of your career. You’re not the big flashy type, but you’re successful.”
“I thought I was a bum who didn’t work on Tuesdays.”
“You said that, not me.”
He tugged at his shorts. “This look says successful? I was wearing jogging shorts and a sweaty tee last time we saw each other.”
“Successful people can slum it, too. Even on Tuesdays. Besides, you have a paddleboard.” It was the board that told her he wasn’t hurting for cash. She’d looked into them a few summers ago and had been blown away by the cost.
Ten Million Fireflies (Band of Sisters) Page 3
