Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Holt
“At this point, I feel a good portion of the confusion is due to the fall. She’s healing nicely from the concussion and I expect the mental fog to clear in a matter of days. Once back at baseline, I’ll come back to reassess and we can go from there.” Doctor Harrington pats Maple’s arm affectionately. “Right now Gracie just needs rest, sunshine, and her family.”
Maple is nodding her head vigorously. “Yes, yes, okay. We can do that.”
I clear my throat and intervene for the first time since the specialist came to check out Gracie. “Anything we shouldn’t do?”
Doctor Harrington addresses me. I notice I don’t get the same friendly pat on the arm. Then again, I don’t have a pair of breasts straining the fabric of a pale pink cotton T-shirt. “Keep her calm, let her get rest. I’d keep her in a wheelchair for now. Don’t get her too riled up. If she wants to get outside, do it.”
Maple is beginning to resemble a bobblehead. “Thanks, Doc.”
He leaves and Maple turns to stare at me, biting that bottom lip. She’s dressed down today, that pink T-shirt tucked into the front of a pair of cutoff denim shorts that have been worn so much they have holes in them. Her legs are strong, lean, and pale as the summer full moon. She’s got this effortlessly feminine air about her that makes you want to sit back and admire her.
“Sooo…”
I can’t help but grin. The woman has every emotion painted across her face. It’s like a storybook. Every thought, feeling, and intention is flashed across her features before she even opens her mouth.
“Looks like we’re still engaged, moonbeam.”
Her eyes go round like she’s about to apologize for having to extend our fake engagement, but I’m honestly not upset about it. After last night especially, I don’t mind pretending. Maple is easy to like and beautiful to look at. If it helps Gracie heal, why not?
“How about we see if Gracie wants to watch the festival today?”
Maple starts nodding again, looking pleased with the suggestion. The Annual Anchor Lake Summer Festival always kicks off on Memorial Day weekend and we already missed the canoe races last night, along with the season’s first bonfire. Maple and I make a plan, starting with her heading into Gracie’s bedroom to run the idea by her. When she pokes her head out with a thumbs up, I head for the supply closet in the main building at Sunny Shores. I grab the best wheelchair I can find and wheel it back to Gracie’s. Once she’s dressed and Maple has her hair done, I get her loaded up in my Jeep and buckled in.
“Oh my! Your fiancé has some nice muscles, Maple of mine.” Gracie wags her eyebrows above the large sunglasses Maple’s making her wear in case the sunshine bothers her head. Gracie’s red-painted lips tip up in a saucy smile.
I remember all the days of work at Sunny Shores Gracie brightened by just being her spirited self. When she offered me her cabin to rent, she stated a ridiculously low monthly rent. I doubled it and moved in. The woman is truly an institution in Anchor Lake, having lived here her whole life.
Maple’s cheeks flush as she gets in the back of the Jeep behind my seat. “Doesn’t he remind you of Fabio?” Maple mutters, getting her seat belt on. I bark out a laugh and toss my non-existent long hair behind my shoulder before I climb in and start the Jeep.
“I say we stop at Lakehouse Bakery for their famous bourbon donuts first.”
Gracie cheers at my suggestion, and I take Maple’s soft smile in my rearview mirror as a yes. I pull up to the curb outside the donut shop and hop out, promising the girls I’ll return with a dozen. The line isn’t too long as most people are already at the festival. Jackie Potrowsky, the owner of Lakehouse Bakery, gives me a winning smile.
“Hey there, stranger. Decided to join the dark side and eat donuts for breakfast?”
She always teases me about being too fit to try her treats. “I always tell you it’s the eighty-twenty rule, Jackie. I eat healthy eighty percent of the time and allow myself to stray a bit the other twenty. Your bourbon donuts definitely fit in the twenty percent.”
She nods and grabs a box, already filling it with the glazed donuts most of the town is addicted to. “You’re in luck. I’m just about out. I’m closing early and heading down to the festival to see if I can take down Eddy in the dunk tank.”
She smiles, but it looks a little insane. She’s had a beef with Eddy Griffith, the owner of Eddy’s Eats and Treats on the other side of the lake for close to a decade simply because he came out with a bourbon cake not long after she came out with her bourbon donuts. She swears he stole the recipe, but she won’t share how he could have even gotten the recipe in the first place. She keeps it under lock and key in the back of her kitchen. I don’t really care as I don’t eat either treats very often. You can’t stay in shape while eating copious amounts of sugar, something I preach to my clients, friends, and anyone who’ll listen.
Jackie slides the box across the glass-top and I hand her my credit card. She peers out the window of her shop as she swipes the card. “Taking Gracie to the festival today?” Then her blonde eyebrows slam together. “Wait. Who’s that in the back? She’s pretty!”
I snatch my card back and take the box. “Gracie’s granddaughter.” I stroll to the front door as Jackie calls out after me.
“You should make a move, Holt!”
I wave goodbye over my shoulder and ignore her suggestion. Except she’ll probably hear about our “engagement” by the end of the day, thinking she had everything to do with it. That’s the thing with small towns, and especially Anchor Lake. Rumors and gossip travel faster than any kayaker heading downstream. I hadn’t really considered that when I agreed to play the besotted fiancé.
Back in the Jeep, I hand the box to Gracie. All three of us dive in, conversation on hold while our mouths explode with the puffy, sugary goodness that are Jackie’s donuts. Maple lets out a soft groan that has me glancing in the rearview mirror. Her eyes are closed and she’s chewing slowly, clearly having a moment. My muscles tighten and I forget all about the donut in my own hand. What would it be like to be the man making Maple moan like that?
Her eyes flicker back open and I glance away quickly, popping the rest of the donut into my mouth in one bite. I start the vehicle and head for the park. Cars fill every available space as we get closer, but I remembered to grab a temporary handicap placard from Sunny Shores so we get to park right up front. Gracie is light as a feather as I swing her out of the Jeep and into the waiting wheelchair. Maple insists on pushing, so I let her, keeping close in case we hit any bumps in the pavement that she needs help with. Anchor Lake is an old community and the sidewalks have lifted in places due to the roots of all the giant trees lining the area.
Kids race across the grass, high on sugar and sunshine, away from parents and homework and responsibility. The parents are grouped with friends and neighbors, sharing food and conversation. Everywhere you look, local townsfolk and tourists alike are enjoying the perfectly balmy weather here in Anchor Lake as we celebrate the start of summer.
“Maple, honey. You two should do the three-legged race!” Gracie tries to turn around in her wheelchair. Maple leaves the back end of the wheelchair and crouches in front of her grandmother. “You and Holt! You’d be so good at it!”
Maple looks up at me, eyes widening. I shrug, willing to give the race a shot if she is. “Okay, Grandma.” She stands and looks like she’s not sure what to do. “I’m not sure why you think we’d be good at it.”
Gracie swipes her hand through the air. “Holt can just carry you across the line with all those muscles.” She cackles. “Now put me over there so I can watch.” She points to the side of the race where the volunteers are getting everything set up. We push her over and lock the brakes.
“You stay out of trouble, Gracie,” I warn. She smiles up at me, pretending to be innocent when we all know she’s a troublemaker.
I reach out and grab Maple’s hand, lacing our fingers together. She jumps but quickly falls into step with me. “Let’s go, moonbeam.”
Maple rolls her eyes, but her lips are pulled up into a genuine smile. We head over to the woman with a clipboard and give her our names. She tells us where to line up and another woman opts for ribbon to tie our legs together since Maple’s in shorts and twine might hurt her skin. Maple has to step into my side, our bodies touching from foot to shoulder. I wrap an arm around her shoulders so she doesn’t fall over while we’re tied together. Nothing like two almost-strangers being physically tied together to make things awkward.
“So…” I begin as the woman continues her work on our legs. “Come here often?”
Maple tilts her head back and laughs, the tension immediately easing between us. When her head comes back up, the woman is finished and moves on to the next couple. “Thank you for doing this. I know you didn’t sign up for this.”
I tighten my arm around her, refusing to acknowledge how good it feels to have her curves pressed against me. “It’s fine. Though the rumor mill is about to go crazy when they see us together here in public. You ready for that?”
Maple shrugs. “I don’t live here, you do. You ready for that?”
I copy her shrug. “I don’t mind being connected to a pretty lady.”
Her cheeks heat, but I don’t have time to consider flirting more with her when we’re cut off by the woman with the clipboard. She now has a bullhorn in front of her mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready for our first three-legged race of the season. Let’s hear it for our ten couples!” A pitiful round of applause comes from the bystanders. “On your marks!”
“Wrap your arm around my waist and hold on,” I whisper in Maple’s ear. She obeys.
“Get set! Go!”
Everyone takes off and so do we. It’s awkward and discombobulated, but we finally find a rhythm halfway down the lawn track. Maple starts giggling and can’t stop. Several couples go down in a heap of tangled limbs. There’s one couple ahead of us, but they slow as the woman steps into a hole in the grass.
“Come on, moonbeam!” I shout, practically lifting her off the ground by her shoulders as I pick up my pace, the finish line in reach.
But that just makes Maple laugh harder and her rhythm falters just enough to have us stumbling. She whoops and leans heavily left. I try to lean heavily right to counteract her tipping, but there’s nothing for it. We teeter over and fall to the ground in a sloppy mess. Maple’s lying half on top of me, laughing hysterically into my chest. Her free leg is hooked over my hips, that creamy thigh across my body. I’m trying desperately not to react to having her splayed over me. My dick doesn’t get the message that we’re in public.
The lady with the bullhorn calls a winner. The crowd claps and pretty soon I hear Gracie calling out from the sidelines.
“Look at those two lovebirds! That’s my Maple and her fiancé!”
Maple lifts her head from my chest where she was practically crying from laughing so hard. The laughter’s gone now, replaced by abject terror as her grandmother announces to the entire town that we’re engaged. She tries to scramble off of me, only remembering that we’re tied together when she falls again, this time into my lap as I’ve sat up. My dick is really not cooperating now. I wrap my arms around her and whisper in her ear.
“Stay still.” The words are harsh, more of a command than a suggestion, but I need her to sit still or the situation in my pants is going to get worse. I lean around her and start to untie the ribbon lacing up and down our legs. The second it’s free, Maple jumps to her feet and smooths down her shirt. I’m slower to get up, for reasons obvious to me but hopefully no one else.
“There they are,” Gracie says from much closer.
I look up to see Macy pushing Gracie’s wheelchair over to us. My ex-wife is smiling, but it looks predatory. At least the sight of her fixes the situation in my jeans. Maple stands there like she’s a statue, blinking rapidly at Macy. Sliding my arm around her waist, I yank Maple into my side.
“Hey, Macy. This is Maple. Maple, this is Macy.” I wave my hand between the parties.
The introduction must break Maple out of her fog since she leans into my side heavily, her free hand coming up to land on the center of my chest. “Oh, hi! I think I remember you.”
I glance down at her, surprised to see a broad smile on her face. I know for a fact she doesn’t like Macy. My ex-wife looks like she’s bit into a bitter lemon. She’s been married and divorced again since we were together, so I don’t know why she’s acting this way. Maple strokes her hand over my chest, and everything inside of me warms at her touch.
“Come on, baby,” Maple purrs, sounding entirely unlike herself. “Let’s go to the pie-eating contest. I wanna get dirty with you.”
I choke on my own spit and have to cough to breathe. Maple in seductress mode is something I’d pay money to see over and over again. Gracie cackles and hoots.
Macy just grimaces. “Well, nice seeing you again, Maple. Good luck with…that.” She lifts a dark eyebrow and saunters off.
I look back at Maple. We both make a face, then laugh.
“God, she’s just as terrible as ever,” Maple says, sounding more like herself as she pulls her hand away from my chest. I miss it instantly. “What did you ever see in her?”
I shake my head. “I’ve asked myself that question a lot over the years.”
“Well, I don’t know about pie, but I’d love a hot dog.” Gracie reminds us why we’re even at the festival.
Maple steps away from me to push her grandmother toward the food tents. I follow, though I do take the opportunity to check out Maple’s ass in those shorts. I shouldn’t, but after that roll in the grass and her seductress act, I can’t help myself.
“Yeah, no pie for me,” I say absently.
Maple snorts. “Don’t want to ruin those six-pack abs?”
I grin and catch up to them, putting my hand on her lower back as we get in line for a hot dog. “I’m flattered you’ve been checking me out, moonbeam.”
I’m referring to last night of course, when we both saw more of each other than we should have. It pleases me to no end that she appreciates my physique. I work hard to stay in shape.
Maple’s cheeks flame red, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she launches into ordering as we step up to the table. Tyler Poole flashes Maple a flirty smile that has me grinding my molars. Tyler owns the Oar and Anchor Tavern and is a longtime friend of mine.
“Two hot dogs coming up!” Tyler snags two hot dogs off the spinning wheels in his hot dog contraption and places them in buns before wrapping them in foil and handing them over. “Hey, Holt. I didn’t bring any chicken Caesar salads today.”
“No worries. I’ll take two dogs.”
Tyler’s eyebrows hit his hairline over my order of junk food. I frown and he bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay. Two dogs coming up.”
I push Maple’s hand away from the tiny purse she hung over the handles of the wheelchair and hand over a twenty-dollar bill to Tyler. I take my dogs, fix them up with ketchup and relish, then follow Maple to the main boat-loading area. There’s a long dock that’s perfect for taking in sunsets. Today it’s perfect for catching a breeze off the lake and cooling off.
We park Grandma Gracie by a bench under a shade structure the city put in a few years ago and Maple makes sure she’s set with her hot dog. She and I sit on the bench and we all stare out at the water in companionable silence as we eat. Gracie’s done first, which is a good sign. Patients with healthy appetites worry us less.
“Does Holt like dogs, honey?”
Maple looks at me, her mouth full of hot dog. I answer for her. “I sure do. I have a little Yorkie, in fact.”
Gracie seems pleased. “Oh, that’s wonderful. My Maple’s quite the veterinarian.”
I glance at Maple. I didn’t know she’s a veterinarian. Maybe that’s why Mookie instantly loved her. Maple stuffs the last bite of hot dog in her mouth and brushes her hands off, no comment about her profession.
“Why don’t you leave me here in the shade and show Holt around the dock? He’s probably never seen it.”
Maple hops off the bench and takes the trash from Gracie’s lap before kissing her on the cheek. “Okay, Grandma. Be right back.”
Maple slides her hand into mine and throws out our trash before we walk down the wooden planks, casually strolling the dock I know like the back of my hand.
“I’m not actually a veterinarian,” she mutters suddenly.
My footsteps falter. “Okay.” When she doesn’t go on, I continue. “Want to tell me about that sometime?”
She waves her free hand in the air like there’s a pesky fly dive-bombing her face. “It’s a whole family thing that I don’t really want to get into.”
We get to the end of the dock and I turn her toward me. A lock of her long hair flutters in the breeze. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
Maple cringes. “Yeah, but you’re such a nice guy, offering to be my fake fiancé just to keep Grandma calm.”
Maple doesn’t know me that well yet. Sure, I can be a nice guy, but I’ve got plenty of flaws. Believe me, my ex-wife made sure I knew about each and every one of them. I shake my head, squeezing her fingers.
“I like Gracie. I like you. I’m happy to help out. Still doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” When she still doesn’t look convinced, I decide to change the subject. “How about we get Gracie back to her condo before she starts snoozing in the wheelchair?”
Maple instantly looks back at her grandma, eyes filling with concern. I hate to see her sad and worried. The good-guy part of me feels like it’s my responsibility to make things better for her. “We probably should. Sorry to cut your day short.”
I grin, brain already a step or two ahead of her. “Oh, the day’s not over yet. Not if you don’t want it to be.”
Maple’s head snaps back in my direction. “What did you have in mind, baby .”