16. Lila
SIXTEEN
LILA
By the time we reach Grant’s cabin, we might as well be back in the national forest. The little buildings are set up for maximum privacy—I know we’re not alone out here, but I can’t see anyone else. I can’t decide if that gives more cozy vibes or spooky ones.
I’m tempted to say something snarky about the building’s rustic chic, but the impulse fades when I catch Grant’s huge smile. He’s like a little kid who just got everything he wanted on Christmas morning. His delight is so pure, I want to snap a picture of him and carry it around in my pocket.
I wanted to do that anyway, but he’s adorable like this.
“Is that the river?” I ask, as though the constant whooshing sound could be anything else.
“It’s close here.” He looks up into the canopy of trees overhead. I don’t hear him sigh, but I just know he does. He’s totally in his element. Like when I’m surrounded by pastel rom-coms or a cheery array of floral dresses.
We step up onto the wide porch while he gets out his keycard. The electronic lock ruins the woodsy aesthetic a bit, to be honest. A hand-carved wooden nameplate over the door reads The Archer , but there’s something else above it, too.
“What do you think that is?” I peer at it but can’t make out what the dots and lines mean.
He glances up. “It’s the Sagittarius constellation. The Archer? All the cabins are named after constellations. You didn’t notice?”
I legitimately had no idea. “I was thinking Taylor Swift songs,” I joke.
“I would have chosen the Paper Rings cabin.”
I’m still gasping over the revelation he’s a Swiftie when he swings the door open. Okay, now I’m in my element. I follow him inside, where a luxurious king-sized bed dominates the room, beckoning me closer to its downy white softness. There’s a stone fireplace in one corner with a cozy leather sofa in front of it, and a huge mahogany armoire. One wall holds the kitchen setup, complete with half-size fridge and two-burner stove.
“This is nice.” I can’t help but run a hand over the fluffy duvet. The bed’s waist-high for me. I’d need a step stool to climb into it.
Not that I would need to get into Grant’s bed. Just an observation.
He sets his duffel next to the armoire. “You’ve been in the cabins before, haven’t you?”
“Not this one. Look at this wall of windows.” I step closer to the sliding glass doors. The river’s maybe fifty feet away through the trees. Adirondack chairs are set up on the wide patio, alongside a?—
I spin to face him. “You have a hot tub?”
His grin proves he knows how good he has it. “I plan to relax.”
“Look at you, roughing it in the woods.”
“I never said I’m immune to modern conveniences. ”
“Is this what your place back in Texas is like? Rustic-fancy?” I can picture him in a setup just like this somewhere.
He winces, but I can’t sort out why. “It’s secluded like this. I don’t spend much time there.”
“Why not?”
“My younger brother’s townhouse is closer to work, and I stay there a lot. He needs someone looking after him half the time.” He unzips his duffel bag. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”
“Go for it. We have bathed together before.” My laugh gets strangled in my throat. I should just not talk with Grant. We can work out a system of blinks and nods.
I’d probably still find ways to embarrass myself.
He pauses halfway between me and the bathroom door, smiling over my ridiculousness. “Would you like to take one first?”
I duck my head to try to smell my armpit. “I do stink, don’t I?”
“I promise you, you don’t. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to offer.”
“I can wait until I get home.” I’ve been dreaming about my assortment of shampoos and body washes for days now. Plus, I can’t get naked in his cabin immediately after cornering him into being my pretend boyfriend. I have a tiny smidgen of pride. “While you do that, I’m going to indulge in sitting on something other than the ground.”
I flop onto the couch. My poor butt is immediately grateful. I bet it’s bruised from sitting on so many rocks and logs.
“Fancy. I’ll be right out.”
He disappears into the bathroom, which, if it’s anything like the cabins I’ve seen, has a generously sized and gorgeously tiled shower. I almost wish I hadn’t turned down his offer, but my fiberglass tub and shower combo will get me just as clean. It just won’t be quite as relaxing as the rain shower version his probably has.
It takes about three minutes of mindless sitting before the real world catches up with me. The Fourth Fest is in two weeks, and even though I’ve got everything lined up and double-checked, there’s always room for something to go sideways. I grab my phone and take it out of airplane mode.
As careful as I was with it in the woods, it’s covered in a fine dust. My poor baby. Can you take a phone in for detailing?
The second my service is restored, my phone starts buzzing with notifications. Emails and voicemails about the festival, comments on my socials both personal and professional, but worst of all—texts.
Mom: I can’t wait to hear more about Grant
Mom: Invite him to dinner any time!
Mom: You’re going to throw out that rodent-bitten shirt, right?
Hope: Mom says you came back from the hike with a boyfriend?
Hope: ?????
Hope: I need to know what happened in the woods
Hope: Call me immediately
I knew Mom would work fast, but I still thought she might give me a few hours’ head start.
Oh, who am I kidding? She probably shimmied right over to my sister’s store the minute Grant and I left town.
“Everything okay?”
I startle and almost drop my phone. “That was quick. ”
“I’m efficient.” He walks into my line of sight in front of the couch.
Stare is probably too polite a word for what I do. I goggle at him. “You shaved.”
He runs a hand over his silky-smooth jaw. “Did you prefer the stubble?”
I’m not sure I could choose which version I like better. The thick stubble added to his rugged appeal, but this clean-shaven version is devastating. Plus, it gives an unhindered view of that dimple. I probably shouldn’t be trusted with unlimited access to it.
“You look great both ways.”
His boyish smile appears like a sunburst peeking out of the clouds. “Good to know.” He sits at the other end of the not-terribly-large couch. “Is anything wrong? You were scowling at your phone just now.”
My dimple-addled brain needs a second to catch up. “I was checking my texts. My sister already knows about us. My mom has probably visited half the stores in town by now relaying the news.”
If she had a bull horn, she could work twice as fast.
“You expected that, right?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just unsettling how desperate she is to get my sister and me married off.”
Panic flickers briefly across his face. His reaction hurts just a little. Which is dumb. This whole thing between us is fake—of course he would freak out at the idea of marrying me. He doesn’t even want to date me. The reminder squeezes my stupid little heart.
“Hope’s wedding should be enough to keep her busy. She just wants us to be happy.”
“You’re not happy? ”
“I mean romantically happy. You know how moms get, eager for their kids to have love and marriage and babies.”
He looks like I’m speaking gibberish. “Not really.”
“Your mom isn’t like that?”
Is there a mom out there who isn’t excited for her kids to have all those things? My experience says no, but maybe things are different in Texas. I doubt it, but maybe.
He lifts a shoulder. “She wants us to be happy, but she’s not pushy about the rest of it.”
“She wasn’t out of her mind with glee when your brother got married?”
“Dean and Eliza eloped, so there wasn’t a whole lot to get worked up about. She’s happy for them, but it’s a normal amount.”
“A normal amount of happy?” My mom almost passed out from joy when I told her Josh and I got engaged. She sent me endless links to potential wedding venues, dresses, and hairstyles. She passed on ideas for honeymoon locations, and oh-so casually dropped potential baby names into conversations. “I don’t know what that’s like.”
“It’s like this.” He pulls his mouth into a closed lip, unenthusiastic smile.
My mom’s been happier over getting brunch with me and Hope on a random Saturday. I am weirdly sad for Grant, imagining a lifetime of mid-range smiles.
“My mom’s more like this.” I slowly drop my mouth open into the biggest, goofiest grin. Eyes wide, I flash jazz hands at either side of my face.
“You’re right, that is a lot.”
I let my crazy clown smile fade. “You don’t have to do this for me.”
“I know.”
“It’s your last chance to back out.” I don’t know why I keep giving him the option—I don’t want him to change his mind. It would be mild to moderately humiliating to face everyone Mom’s already gossiped to around town.
Plus, I just want to spend time with him.
Craziest excuse for spending time with a man so far, but it’s been that kind of year.
“I’m not backing out. This will be fun.”
“Aw.” I pat him on the shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re wildly naive.”