seven | will
SEVENWill
I enter the house through the back door and ignore the stack of dishes on the counter. It’s my turn for kitchen duty, but I haven’t had time to deal with them yet.
My goal is to be in the house by eight o’clock every night, but during the tourist season my life is like the game Whack-A-Mole. Whenever I deal with one crisis, another one pops up. This time, the motor on a guest’s boat was acting up and he asked me to take a look at it.
Cab is sprawled out on the couch when I walk into the living room.
“Sorry.” I know I say this a lot. “I didn’t think it would take so long.”
She lifts her head from the book she’s reading—The Art of the Cast—and blows a strand of hair off her forehead. “That’s okay.”
She needs a haircut.
I tried to trim Cab’s bangs while watching a YouTube video once, but it looked like I’d used a chainsaw instead of scissors, so I decided to leave it to the professionals from now on.
I’m glad Brighton will be back in a week to take over stuff like this.
She’s had summers off during college and grad school, but this year, Bright was invited to travel to Europe with a select group of students from her college orchestra for ten weeks.
An opportunity she would have turned down if Lexi hadn’t spilled the beans and told me about it.
My sister is a virtuoso. I had to look up the definition the first time I heard someone call her that, but basically it means Bright is a crazy good violinist.
That’s why I told her she had to go.
I’m about to take over the recliner when I notice the dog bed is empty.
“Where’s Juni?”
Cab shrugs. “She wanted to go outside.”
Of course she did. The dog always has to sneak in one final lap around the fire pit every evening to sniff out the charred remains of any marshmallows that fell off an amateur roaster’s stick.
“I’ll be right back.” I open the door and refuse to look toward the pinpoint of light glowing through the trees in the upper window of the studio.
The pink convertible cruised past our cabin while I was grilling hamburgers for dinner. I assumed Emberly was venturing out to find a restaurant and had to ward off another stab of guilt.
It isn’t my job to feed the guests.
It isn’t my job to keep track of them, either, but Emberly left over two hours ago and I hadn’t seen her come back yet.
Not that I’ve been paying attention. Much.
I remind myself that Emberly chose to rent the studio, knowing it didn’t have a kitchen. Or a bedroom.
She did accept my offer of a coffee pot, but the amused smile that plucked at the corners of her lips when I mentioned a microwave was a clue she wouldn’t use it anyway.
And I’m not going to think about her lips.
Or the laughter in her eyes when she called me Phil.
I’m not going to think about Emberly Lockwood at all, because women like her, women who drive pink convertibles and carry their stuff around in designer bags instead of backpacks, don’t belong here.
That might sound a little prejudiced but it’s based on past experience. And self-preservation.
“Juni!” She’s nowhere in sight of course, so I step off the deck and look around. Like Cab, the dog is a favorite of everyone who stays here and shamelessly uses that to her advantage.
My parents adopted Juni from a local rescue when she was a puppy.
The volunteers were rather vague about her breed and it was probably deliberate.
Juni is huge. She has mottled gray and brown fur, the pointy nose of a German Shepherd and the intense, ice-blue eyes of a husky.
Based on the amount of time she spends in the lake, I’d say she’s part fish, too.
Juni was supposed to be a guard dog of sorts, but once the guests figured out the size of her heart matches the size of her body, she’s become as spoiled as my little sister.
I let the door close behind me and start the search. I’m not sure if it was too much fun in the sun or the mosquitos that chased everyone back to their cabins early for the night, but all that’s left of the bonfire is a mountain of embers simmering in the center of the firepit.
Tamping down a sigh, I call Juni’s name again.
She could be camped out on someone’s porch—or their couch, although I’ve repeatedly warned people not to sneak her into the cabins.
I could make another dog with the amount of hair she sheds during the summer and my Saturday cleaning crew would go on strike with the extra work.
My cell vibrates and I yank it out of my back pocket. A number I don’t recognize flashes on the screen.
“Pinehart.”
There’s a split-second of silence and then, “Will?”
I can tell it’s Emberly’s voice even though she’s whispering.
“Yes.”
“There’s a wolf outside my door.”
Now I know that Emberly didn’t get lost trying to find her way back to the resort.
I also know where Juni is.
“That’s Juniper.”
“You named the wolf, too?”
I wince because she doesn’t whisper this time.
“Juniper is my dog,” I explain. “She’s big, but she won’t hurt you.”
“She’s eating my dinner!”
I close my eyes.
“I’ll be right there.”
I weave through the trees at a jog until I reach the clearing. The motion light is on and at the bottom of the stairs I see Juni, standing over her kill. Which, in this case, happens to be the remnants of a takeout bag from my best friend’s restaurant.
I can only hope Knox wasn’t working tonight. If he found out that Emberly is staying at Pinehart, he’ll be moving into my cabin.
Knox and I have been friends since third grade. I love the guy like a brother, but we have a difference of opinion when it comes to dating. I don’t. And Knox likes it. A lot. What he doesn’t like? Going out with the same girl twice.
The Category Threes have accepted that Knox is allergic to commitment, but the Summer Barbies don’t seem to mind.
They aren’t planning to stick around anyway.
Which is why Knox would have written his number on a napkin, tucked it into a basket of complimentary cheese curds, and delivered both to Emberly’s table with a charming smile the moment she sat down.
I’ve seen the guy in action and it works every time.
Side note: The only reason I know his smile is charming is because Reeve has declared it to be so. I’m still her favorite though. I send a lot of business her way.
I’m not sure why the thought of my best friend asking Emberly out bugs me, but I’m relieved she got her food to go.
Even if Juni was the one who actually got to eat it.
Juni’s head lifts when she spots me. She bares her teeth, which would be terrifying if I didn’t know this is her signature smile.
“Nice going, Juni,” I mutter.
Because sarcasm is wasted on dogs, she trots over and drags her tongue across my hand.
Scolding is useless at this point. She’s too proud of herself. And if Emberly dropped the bag on purpose—which I hope was the case and not a game of tug-of-war—in Juni’s doggy brain, this was clearly a case of finder’s keepers.
I bend over and start picking up pieces of paper that are strewn around the grass like confetti. Stuff them into the pocket of my jeans. I guess I should thank Knox for choosing environmentally friendly takeout containers. If the bag was plastic, I’d be calling the vet.
The door opens, slowly, and Emberly steps onto the landing.
The breath I just took stays in my lungs.
Maybe I’m the one who’s going to need medical attention.