18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Lizzie
W ell, promising myself that I wasn’t going to let that man distract me was one thing.
Actually being able to stick to a ridiculous declaration like that? Quite another.
To be fair, it wasn’t really my fault. I’d had the best of intentions when I set up camp on the sofa with my laptop later the following week, with the goal of getting through one full chapter of my book.
I’d been trying my best to recommit to my sisters-meet-Great Depression novel for several days now, as the windows were being installed around me throughout the cabin. Writing had continued to feel like trudging my way through literary mud—but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. I’d even resorted to going full-out ‘ woo-woo’ —wearing Grandma Cora’s key necklace as a sort of creative talisman, praying for divine inspiration. I was sure it would make my friend Indi—the woo-est one of us all—proud.
But for some reason, this morning I was having a hell of a time getting my manuscript file to even open . Inwardly, I was doing everything I could not to panic, considering that all the work I’d put into this book for the past three years was in that file.
I could hear Mariah’s voice in my head: “Come on, Lizzie, you always have to back up your files. Everyone knows that.”
Needless to say, I was in the middle of some witty retort in the fictional argument I was having with my sister when a noise from outside charged like a battering ram through my frustrated focus.
Looking up, there he stood—James, in all of his muscled, shirtless glory, throwing the shirt he’d just peeled off at Jesse before leaning down to grab his water bottle.
As he tilted his head back to take a drink, I watched the lean muscles along his neck ripple with every swallow—rhythmically, like a dance, bass thumping.
Wait—was the music just in my head?
Lowering the bottle, he wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at something Jesse said.
And then— I kid you not —James lifted the bottle upwards and fucking poured the rest of the water over his head. It trickled down his body, almost in slow motion, as if the water didn’t want to stop touching his body either—the spray floating around his head like a halo as he shook his hair, wiping his mouth.
All of this, framed perfectly in the large bay picture window across from me—like some sexy velvet painting ripped straight from a nineteen-seventies flea market.
Even worse? When I reached up to touch my own lips, I realized I’d been drooling a little.
Jesus Christ.
How the hell could anyone be invested in anything to do with writing serious literary fiction after watching that Brawny Man thirst trap?
And of course, he chose that exact moment to look up and catch me staring out the window at him, like some horny teenager. Grinning as he retrieved his shirt, he gave me a quick wave and a wink before wandering off towards the backyard—leaving me to die of humiliation.
So, yeah … that’s how my day was going so far.
But I had to admit—if I were writing a romance novel right now, the entire book would’ve practically written itself.
“Alright, I’m done venting about work. It’s your turn.” Brooke leaned over to top off the wine in my glass after filling her own, spilling down the side. “Oops! Sorry about that,” she said, giggling. “But while we’re at it, you may as well spill it, too. How’s it been going up here with James and Jesse working on your renovations?”
It was Friday night, and I was out on the porch for a much-needed girls’ night, breaking in the new outdoor furniture set that had just been delivered. The red Adirondack chairs had rejoined the other seven around the old fire pit, waiting for new memories to be forged. It had magical properties, after all—without it, the Dearie Girls wouldn’t even exist.
Maybe a bonfire would have the power to magically fix my writer’s block, too. I was desperate enough to try anything at this point.
Brooke had decided to drive up for a couple of days after a rough week at work, and I’d been overjoyed to see her—she and Indi both , for that matter. I’d been keeping myself pretty holed up between attempts at writing and the cabin renovation, which meant I hadn’t seen much of my friends since they’d helped move me into the cabin over a month and a half ago.
In fact, the only people I’d been interacting with at all lately were mainly GiGi, Jesse, the cashiers over at Filbert’s Grocery & Liquor—and yes, James.
But James was the entire reason I was grateful for tonight’s distraction. Because ever since yesterday, it wasn’t prose or plot points that popped into my head as I stared at my laptop screen. It was a replay of shirtless James standing outside my front window, hot and dripping with muscles on full display as he caught me staring—-over and over and over again.
And the only thing that visual had in common with the Great Depression was the feeling I’d been left with, knowing I had no business ogling my friend and contractor when I was supposed to be, you know, authoring .
But not tonight. Tonight was my time to decompress and get my head out of whatever tangle it had been in since I’d arrived in Dearing Creek.
“The guys? They’re… great. Very skilled at their jobs.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I looked over at her, the very picture of denial. “I mean it… you saw what they’ve already done with the exterior. It’s gorgeous, right? And how about my new windows?”
“Yes, yes, it’s all lovely . Which I already told you when I arrived an hour ago,” Brooke said impatiently, waving away my words. “What I meant was…”
“...how are you enjoying the hot male company?” Indi said with a wink, clinking her glass against Brooke’s before tipping it back for a celebratory sip.
Yeah, no. Even though that scene of sexy James was on its seven-hundredth loop through my head, I knew my friends would lose their ever-lovin’ minds if I told them about it— or the fact I was having all these feelings about him in the first place. Which is exactly why I was keeping my mouth shut. For now.
“You two do know Jesse is married, right? With a baby on the way?”
Brooke stared at me for a moment, eyes dancing, before leaning in. “You, my dear, are being purposely obtuse. Clearly, I’m talking about James.”
Just be cool.
“Oh, yeah… James is great. He’s done a great job with everything so far.” I tried to keep my expression neutral as I raised my own glass to my lips, but I knew it was pointless with these two. I figured I only had about thirty seconds before they pounced on me, anyway. “And before you say anything else, yes … he’s friendly. And funny. And attractive. He’s a really great guy.”
Brooke’s eyes hadn’t wavered. “I think I clocked three mentions of ‘he’s great' in that little speech of yours…”
Indi grinned as she started braiding her waist-long curly blonde hair into a long plait. Resembling spun gold and never frizzy, I’d lusted after that hair my entire life. “I knew it.”
“Knew what , exactly?”
“That you and James would be the perfect fit for each other.”
I held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, missy… back that cart up. Just because I agree that he’s good-looking—and nice to be around—does not mean I’m agreeing we belong together or anything close. That would be… ridiculous.”
But I could already feel the heat spread across my face as I said it, the words ‘liar, liar, pants on fire …’ echoing as Horny Lizzie sashayed her way through my mind.
Brooke’s expression was smug as she held up her glass, pinky pointed outwards. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” A little wine sloshed out of her glass as she waved it around—laughing, she quickly grabbed another napkin to sop up the mess.
“Ok, stop, I’m serious. Besides, I doubt he thinks of me in that way. Sure, we get along great… but he’s behaved like a total pro this entire time. Why spoil everything by trying to cross a line that I shouldn’t? And anyway, I have more than enough on my plate at the moment.”
Of course, I knew blatantly drooling over the guy probably qualified as ‘line crossing’ . But no way was I going to give my friends even more ammunition by admitting that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or his laugh. Or his thoughtfulness. Or his crinkly, twinkly eyes.
And still, that little voice whispered in my ear: This could be something amazing, if you let it.
Indi patted my arm. “Well, for what it’s worth… James is a great guy. I actually think you two have a lot in common.”
“Yes. What she said. It’s not like you’re actually his employer. He’s a free agent. And you, my dear, deserve to have a little fun,” Brooke said, booping the tip of my nose playfully. “Especially if he’s as great of a kisser as Tess’s friend claims. Probably means he’s good at plenty of other things, too,” she said, grinning wickedly.
“Objection! That is hearsay and speculation.” By now, I was smiling as well—but also in desperate need of a change in topic. “So, Indi… how’s Callum been the past couple of weeks? Did he start that rock climbing camp yet?”
Callum was Indi’s twelve-year-old son—we all loved that kid as our own, his aunties by choice. But life hadn’t been easy for our friend, becoming a single mom at a time when the rest of us were heading off to college and new beginnings. Even still—as moms go, she was one of the best.
“Nuh-uh. My turn will come later. We’re doing your updates now. You know the drill,” Indi said, waggling a finger at me. “We’ll leave you alone about James—for now. But tell us about the book.”
I averted my gaze yet again, reaching for my wine glass. “It’s going… alright.”
Brooke sighed. “And you wonder how we can always tell when you’re hiding something…”
“She’s not wrong, Lizzie. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“Whatever.” I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the warm evening breeze flowing through, now that the early summer heat wave had finally ceased. Feeling their eyes on me, I sighed. “Ok, maybe everything isn’t completely ‘alright’. More like… I think I’m done with this book.”
Indi’s eyes widened. “You’ve finished writing it already? That’s amazing, Lizzie!”
I shook my head. “No, no… I mean, I’m officially done with it. As in, I’m giving up. The entire project is dead.” I hadn’t planned to say it, or even allowed myself to think it—but as soon as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I knew they were true. Not even a power as great as Grandma Cora’s key talisman could save it.
Judging by the looks on my friends’ faces, they weren’t prepared for my little confession, either.
Maybe dissecting how I felt about James would be less painful.
“Ok, Lizzie… what’s going on?” Brooke’s expression had now shifted from teasing to one of concern as I felt the anxiety bloom in the center of my chest. “You’ve wanted to do this forever. Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean your dream is dead. Give it time.”
“Maybe… I don’t know. I guess I thought coming up here would make it a lot easier for the words to flow. But it’s been harder than ever. I just feel so… lost.”
Willing myself not to cry for the millionth time in the past year, I trained my eyes on my hands. They were tingling again, the way they always did whenever anxiety took root within me. I flexed my fingers, working to bring back the feeling to them. But feeling almost made it worse.
I envisioned thirteen-year-old Lizzie, always with a pencil and a notebook in hand, mind and heart full of stories, with dreams of becoming the next Great American Author. What happened to that girl?
Part of me wished that I could go back in time, wrap my arms around her, and warn her that life doesn’t turn out that way. Would she even listen? I wondered. Probably not. Because giving up on a dream before life gave me a good enough reason would’ve been nearly impossible for teenage Lizzie .
But grown-up Lizzie had had enough.
“Oh, honey… I was worried something like that might be going on. You’ve been so cooped up out here, putting so much pressure on yourself. Especially after the year you’ve just had.” Glancing up, I caught Indi’s reassuring smile. “Give yourself some grace. Maybe a little break is all you need to get your spark back.”
“Absolutely—a break is a brilliant idea.” Brooke squeezed my hand. “Remember—we’re all rooting for you, ok? And we’re here, don’t forget that. You can do this.” She leaned in closer. “But no more hiding up here all alone, got it?”
“And the rest of us are going to be checking on you more frequently, so be prepared. If you ghost us, you’re done for.” Indi tried her best to scowl—but seeing as it was completely out of character for her, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, yes… understood,” I said, reaching for my glass. “And actually, speaking of being alone… I’ve kind of been thinking about adopting a dog. Partly for the company, but also so I feel a little less anxious here on my own. I was never allowed one at my apartment, and I’ve missed having a dog around since Missy died. Is that a completely insane idea?”
“Not insane at all. I love this for you!” Indi said, clapping her hands.
“Yes, I agree, one hundred percent! Let’s all run over to the Lakeview Humane Society tomorrow, before we head to my parents’ place for dinner.” Brooke poured the remainder of the bottle across our three glasses. “In the meantime, what do you say to a bonfire?”
“Deal.”
But as we cleaned up the table to move closer to the lake, all I could wonder was: What if it really was over?
I’d always dreamed of being a writer, and here I was, letting every little distraction throw me off, already failing not even two months in on my first true attempt.
Which meant the even bigger question was—if this dream of mine had all been more of a pipe dream than anything, what was I supposed to do with the rest of my life?