Her Maine Enemy (When in Maine)

Chapter One

Piper

I sing along with Taylor Swift’s new album as I head to the toilet building of Lakeside Serenity Glamping Haven, my very own glamping resort, to restock the bathroom stalls with thick rolls of ultrasoft toilet paper and empty the trash cans. The building stands strategically positioned on the edge of my property, right next to the campground of my annoyingly charming rival Benson.

Not that I find him charming. Ew no . A mosquito trapped in a tent on a hot summer night is more appealing than he is, but everyone in town seems to think he’s as hot and fun as a lakeside bonfire with free s’mores. Sometimes, my female guests spend an exuberant amount of time hanging around the toilet building after catching a glimpse of the legend himself. I know that’s the reason for their lingering because no one needs five half-hour bathroom breaks a day unless they’re suffering from intestinal failure.

I glare at Benson’s campground through the tree line that separates our land, imagining his smug face grinning at me once he discovers I’ve updated my website. I just know he’s going to laugh at my use of the words ‘serene’ and ‘luxurious’ and ‘enchanting’, even though those are the perfect descriptors for what Lakeside Serenity Glamping Haven has to offer.

He never passes up an opportunity to look down on my glamping resort, claiming it’s got nothing to do with ‘real’ camping. Apparently, the honor of calling a campground a campground is reserved for him and his back-to-basics, relieve-yourself-in-a-bucket kind of experience only. Honestly, it boggles the mind why anyone would willingly want to secure a spot at his place, yet he’s always fully booked months in advance.

Okay, fine, I might be exaggerating a bit. He does have a building with real toilets, but that still doesn’t make him the king of camping.

Benson has one positive aspect going for him, though. He’s the secret weapon to keep my mother off my back about dating. After she tried to set me up with the umpteenth slick and rich son of one of her golfing friends, I panicked and told her I was seeing someone. Who? Oh, just my neighbor, Benson. She’ll never know the truth because she lives all the way down in Florida and never travels to Maine. Whenever there’s a holiday or birthday to celebrate, I fly out to visit her, telling her all about my amazing boyfriend who, unfortunately , works so much he can never tag along for a visit.

My life has become so much easier since I don’t have to worry about her playing matchmaker anymore.

Supplies in hand, I pull the door to the toilet building open, the familiar scent of lavender air freshener greeting me. I’m willing to bet that Benson’s toilet building doesn’t nearly smell as good as mine.

Once I’ve restocked everything and gathered the trash, I walk out, only to be met by a broad-shouldered figure and a pair of vivid green eyes. Does he really need to be walking around in that tight-fitting, grey T-shirt he loves to wear? It’s almost as if he wants everyone in Fog Harbor to know that he’s got muscles.

“For crying out loud, Benson, why do you keep sneaking up on me like this?” I ask, pulling my earbuds from my ears.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Because I like seeing you do this scared little jump. It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you want?”

He clears his throat. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” I ask, glaring at him.

“This morning, a ‘for sale’ sign showed up on the plot of land adjacent to ours.”

“And? You know I’m going to buy it, Benson.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”

I sigh. “Look, we’ve been over this. We both want the land, so we’ll both bid on it. Whoever’s got the best offer wins.”

“Yeah, that was before.”

“Before what?” I ask, starting to get seriously annoyed with his riddles.

“I got some upsetting information from the guy who was hammering the sign into the ground.”

Figures. Benson has a way of charming the truth out of complete strangers. He’s one of those men who would get a monkey to talk.

I arch an eyebrow. “Spit it out already.”

“You and me aren’t the only ones interested in buying it.”

I cross my arms, trying to ignore how close he’s standing and how good he smells. “So? Who else is in the running then?”

Benson’s cheerful expression fades, replaced by a serious look that’s almost unsettling. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, urgent tone as if he’s afraid someone will overhear what he’s about to say. “A developer from the city plans to turn it into a commercial resort.”

My stomach sinks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” His jaw clenches as he looks over the gorgeous landscape bordering our campgrounds. “The guy told me they’ve got deep pockets and big plans. If we don’t act fast, our little corner of paradise is going to get steamrolled.”

“We? You want us to work together? I thought you’d want nothing more than to see me fail.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Just because I absolutely detest glamping doesn’t mean I want you to fail. You have a right to run your…” He hesitates, clearly struggling for the right word. “ Business .”

My goodness, he can’t even bring himself to utter the word campground when he talks about Lakeside Serenity Glamping Haven. What a baby.

“Not wanting you to fail still doesn’t mean I like looking at this cheerful luxury that doesn’t belong in the woods,” he adds, pulling a face as he lets his gaze roam my campground.

“If you’re going to keep insulting me, then I’m walking away right now,” I warn him.

He holds his hands up. “You’re right. That was wrong of me.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t we think it over and meet somewhere tomorrow to discuss possible solutions?”

My jaw drops to the pine-needle-covered ground. “You want to meet? In public?”

He grins. “Don’t push it, Pip. Not in public, just… I don’t know, in my office.”

“Fine. I’ll drop by tomorrow after lunch.” I turn around but give him one last look over my shoulder before walking away. “And the name’s Piper. Not Pip.”

“Whatever you say. Pip ,” he adds in a whispered voice.

I ball my hands into fists. Pip. Really?

His inability to use my full name feels like a petty victory on his part and it irks me more than I care to admit. What did I ever do to him to make him despise me like this? I mean, apart from that one time I insulted him.

Okay, that one time was pretty bad, but he brought it upon himself. On the opening day of my glamping resort, he dropped by with a bouquet of wildflowers. I naively thought he wanted to welcome me to the area and wish me luck, but all he did was go on and on about how glamping isn’t the same thing as real camping and how his award-winning campground was the epitome of authentic and rustic charm. That’s when I let my sharp tongue get the better of me. I told him that the only thing rustic about his campground was how far it’s stuck in the past.

I’ll never forget the way his eyes widened in surprise and how he stormed off with those wildflowers in hand without saying another word. Since then, we’ve been locked in this petty rivalry, each of us holding our ground as the other’s sworn enemy.

Ugh. The one thing I want right now is to be as far away from Benson as possible. Yet, here I am, obligated to meet him at his so-called office tomorrow—if you can even call it that. From what I’ve heard, Benson’s office is more of a dingy room tucked away in the back of his DIY reception building, hardly what you’d expect from a professional workspace.

I realize I’ll have to swallow my pride if I want to prevent the developer from snapping up the land I’ve had my eyes on for years. That means sucking it up and meeting with Benson tomorrow, even if it’s the last thing I feel like doing.