Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
She’d said okay like it was nothing, but the word still sat on her tongue an hour later, tasting like a mix of relief and resistance.
Brian was outside on the deck, the low hum of a power drill carrying through the open window. She sat at the kitchen table with her cooling tea, staring at the steam until it thinned to nothing.
She wasn’t used to agreeing to someone’s rules — not since she’d left Chicago, not since she’d stopped letting other people’s plans swallow hers whole.
But the way he’d looked at her on Main Street, eyes locked on hers, voice quiet but unshakable…
she’d known it wasn’t about control. It was about keeping her safe.
And that, somehow, was harder to argue with.
She carried her mug to the sink and rinsed it, the sound of the water too loud in the stillness.
Beyond the glass, Brian moved along the fence line with the focus of a man who didn’t do half-measures.
Every few steps he crouched, scanning the sand for signs she wouldn’t have noticed — subtle depressions, the pattern of a tread.
Her chest tightened. Whoever the man from the pier was, he wasn’t just a chance repeat in a small town. And maybe it wasn't him at all.
When Brian came back in, he wiped his hands on a rag and glanced at her. “I’m going to install that motion light along the back fence I told you about. Should have it up in an hour.”
She nodded. “Anything else you need me to do?”
“Yeah. If you see him — anywhere — tell me right away. Don’t talk to him. Don’t try to figure it out yourself.”
She opened her mouth to say she wouldn’t, then thought of following the man down that side street yesterday, her pulse quickening with every step. “I’ll tell you,” she said instead.
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he’d heard the gap between what she said and what she meant.
He pulled his phone out and asked, "What's your number. We need to exchange numbers in case you need me."
She gave him her number, and he tapped and called her phone.
"There, store my number and we're connected.
" A little thrill ran through her belly at being connected to him.
It was only phone numbers and the holding of hands this afternoon.
But it was nice. She'd almost felt like she had been transported back in time to an era where the mere holding of hands was a promise of more.
He'd been the gentleman in all things. There had not been one moment where she'd felt unsafe around him.
Even sleeping in her room, she never worried he'd try to force himself on her.
There was something about him that was quiet and sure and so honorable she nearly cried at the loss of that in today's world.
By late afternoon, the clouds had thickened, the kind of heavy gray that pressed low over the lake.
She curled into the armchair with her book, the rain’s first drops ticking against the window.
Brian had started a fire in the fireplace and was now stretched out on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, the faint crease between his brows telling her he wasn’t just reading the screen — he was thinking ahead, planning.
The easy quiet settled in again, the one that made it too simple to forget that someone was watching.
A crack of thunder rolled over the water, low and far away. She jumped slightly and glanced up to find him watching her over the edge of his laptop. Not intrusive. Just… there.
“You okay?” he asked.
She surprised herself by telling the truth. “I think so. For now.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded and went back to his screen. But the line between them felt different — less like two strangers sharing space, more like an unspoken agreement.
The rain thickened. Somewhere beyond the glass, the motion light on the back fence flicked on, spilling a pale circle into the trees. She told herself it was the wind, or a branch bending under the weight of water.
Still, she set her book down and watched it until it went dark again.
Brian was watching too. He'd set his laptop on the coffee table and sat a bit straighter.
He was still, though, and the only light in the cottage was from the fire.
He stood slowly and circled behind the sofa, staying in the darkest parts of the room.
He neared the window and watched quietly.
After a few moments, he turned and caught her gaze.
"I don't see anything."
He locked the back door, then quietly moved down the hall to the front door and locked that as well. When he entered the living room again, he sat on the sofa, but this time he didn't put his feet up; he sat looking out the window. Waiting. Watching.
It made her jumpy to think they were merely sitting inside, waiting for something to happen. She set her book on the table next to her chair and planted her feet on the floor.
"Do you have any games to play? Cards or board games?"
He grinned slightly. "The Matthews left a bunch of games here in that closet. Pick whichever one you like, I'll play with you."
She moved to the closet and opened it to find it neat and tidy. Shelves lined one wall, and she saw the games stacked by size. He was neat in all things. She pulled out a word game and held it up for him to see.
He grinned, and she noticed the dimples. Butterflies flew around in her tummy as she stared at the man before her. He was incredibly handsome. There was very little not to like about him. He looked like a total badass, but he'd not behaved that way at all.