Chapter Four #3
I burst out laughing at her indignant expression. "That's Bramble. He belongs to the inn—or rather, the inn belongs to him, if you ask him."
To my surprise, Lark started laughing too—not the polite, restrained chuckle I might have expected, but a genuine, unreserved laugh that transformed her face completely. The sound was infectious, and I found myself laughing harder in response.
"The look on your face," I managed between chuckles.
"The look on the dog's face," she countered, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "He knew exactly what he was doing!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zoe snapping another photo, capturing our shared laughter. For a moment, the pretense fell away—we weren't a corporate lawyer and a small- town teacher playing a part, just two people enjoying a genuine moment of connection.
After dinner, the town square transformed as the fairy lights came on and someone set up speakers for music. A space was cleared for dancing, and couples began to drift toward it.
"Want to show these people how it's done?" I asked, nodding toward the impromptu dance floor.
Lark hesitated. "I'm not much of a dancer."
"Neither am I," I admitted. "But that's never stopped anyone in Wintervale."
Before she could answer, someone announced a beanbag toss competition on the other side of the square.
"Actually," Lark said, her eyes lighting up with interest, "that sounds more my speed."
I raised an eyebrow. "Competitive, are we?"
"I didn't get where I am by shying away from competition," she replied with a smile that held a hint of challenge.
The beanbag toss tournament was already forming teams when we arrived. Lark and I signed up together, facing off against Tyler and his girlfriend in the first round.
"Rules are simple," the organizer explained. "Take turns tossing. Three points if it goes in the hole, one point if it lands on the board. First team to twenty-one wins."
Lark stepped up to the line, a determined set to her jaw that I found unexpectedly attractive. She took careful aim, released the beanbag with a smooth motion, and landed it squarely in the hole.
"Three points," the scorekeeper called.
"Beginner's luck?" Tyler teased.
Lark just smiled sweetly. "We'll see."
As the game continued, I watched in amazement as Lark dominated the competition. Her throws were precise, her strategy flawless. When we won the final round, she let out a triumphant whoop and high-fived me with childlike enthusiasm.
"Where did you learn to play like that?" I asked as we accepted our prize—a gift certificate to the local ice cream shop.
"Summer camp, believe it or not," she said, cheeks flushed with victory. "I was very serious about color war competitions."
"I can picture that," I laughed.
As the evening wore on, I found myself watching Lark when she wasn't looking.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when listening intently to someone.
How she periodically checked her phone, a slight furrow appearing between her brows each time.
The genuine interest she showed when locals told her about Wintervale's history.
For someone playing a part, she was doing a remarkably convincing job. Or maybe, just maybe, she was letting her guard down and enjoying herself despite her initial reservations.
The crowd began to thin as families with young children headed home. The mayor approached us again, this time with a specific request.
"The regatta on Saturday is one of our biggest events," he explained. "It would be wonderful if you two would participate. Nothing builds publicity like a little friendly competition."
"I've never been in a kayak," Lark admitted.
"Wade here is an excellent teacher," the mayor assured her. "And the course isn't difficult—just around the lake and back."
I glanced at Lark, trying to gauge her reaction. "It could be fun," I offered. "I could show you the basics tomorrow, if you're interested."
She considered for a moment, then nodded. "Why not? It's all part of the experience, right?"
"Excellent!" The mayor beamed. "I'll add you to the roster."
As the mayor walked away, I suggested to Lark, "Want to take a walk? The lake is beautiful at sunset."
She checked her phone once more, then slipped it into her purse. "Sure."
We made our way from the town square to the lakeshore, the path lit by the last golden rays of the setting sun. The water was calm, reflecting the pink and orange sky like a mirror. A few boats were still out, distant specks on the glassy surface.
"It's peaceful here," Lark said softly as we walked along the shore. "Different from Chicago."
"That's what most people say when they visit," I replied. "What's it like there? Your life in the city, I mean."
She was quiet for a moment. "Fast-paced. Competitive. My apartment has a view of the lake—Lake Michigan—but I rarely have time to enjoy it. Most days, I'm at the office before sunrise and home after dark."
"Sounds lonely," I said without thinking.
She glanced at me, surprise in her eyes. "I never thought of it that way. I'm always surrounded by people—clients, colleagues."
"That's not the same as connection," I pointed out gently.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice called out, "Wade! Is that you?"
Logan jogged up the path toward us, his lanky teenage frame awkward but endearing. My cousin's face lit up when he saw me, the same admiration I'd seen since he was a toddler shining in his eyes.
"Hey, Logan," I greeted him. "What are you doing out here?"
"Mom said I could fish until sunset," he explained, holding up a small tackle box. "No luck today, though." His curious gaze shifted to Lark. "Is this your girlfriend everyone's talking about?"
I felt Lark stiffen slightly beside me. "This is Lark," I said. "Lark, my cousin Logan—my aunt Diana's son."
"Nice to meet you," Lark said with a smile.
"Are you gonna be at the water safety class tomorrow?" Logan asked me. "I've been practicing the rescue technique you showed me."
"I'll be there," I promised, ruffling his hair the way I had since he was small. "Wouldn't miss it."
Logan beamed, then glanced at his watch. "I better get back before Mom freaks. See you tomorrow!" He waved and jogged off in the direction of town.
"He really looks up to you," Lark observed once Logan was out of earshot.
My throat tightened slightly. "He's a good kid. His mom—my mom's twin sister—had him after several miscarriages. He's her miracle child."
"That explains the protective vibe I sense from you," Lark said softly.
I shrugged, not wanting to go into further detail. We continued walking in comfortable silence until we spotted two familiar figures approaching—the mayor and Edna again, apparently enjoying their own evening stroll.
"Well, well," Theodore called out as they neared. "Great minds think alike, it seems."
"Just showing Lark the lake at sunset," I explained.
As they continued on their way, I noticed Zoe Blake in the distance, camera raised. Without thinking, I reached for Lark's hand, interlacing our fingers.
"Paparazzo at three o'clock," I murmured.
Lark's hand tensed momentarily in mine, then relaxed. "Is she always lurking around corners?"
"Pretty much," I admitted. "Small town, remember? Not much happens that Zoe doesn't document."
We stood there, hand in hand, until Zoe disappeared down the path.
But even after she was gone, neither of us immediately let go.
Lark's hand fit perfectly in mine, her skin warm and soft, making me hope my calloused fingers weren’t a complete turn-off.
When she finally pulled away, the absence of her touch left an unexpected emptiness.
The sun had nearly set, the sky deepening from orange to purple. "I should get you back to the inn," I said. "It's getting late."
We walked back to my truck in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. The drive to the Evergreen Inn was equally quiet, but not uncomfortably so. When I pulled up to the entrance, I shut off the engine and came around to open her door.
"Thank you for tonight," Lark said as she stepped down. "It was... nicer than I expected."
"High praise," I teased. "We aim to please here in Wintervale."
She smiled—a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Goodnight, Wade."
"Goodnight, Lark. I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon for that kayak lesson?"
"I'll be ready," she promised.
I watched as she climbed the steps to the inn's front porch, disappearing through the ornate wooden doors. Starting the truck again, I sat there for a moment, trying to sort through my confusing thoughts.
This was supposed to be simple—a mutually beneficial arrangement with clearly defined boundaries.
So why did I find myself genuinely looking forward to seeing her tomorrow?
Why did the sweet smell of her lingering scent cause my chest to tighten?
And why, despite all my reservations and the knowledge that she'd be leaving in two weeks, was I already dreading saying goodbye to Lark Hayes?
I drove home slowly, the stars emerging in the clear night sky above Wintervale.
My mind wandered back to Vanessa—how she'd looked at me with disdain when she'd ended things, explaining that she needed someone more "ambitious," someone who could give her the life she deserved beyond Wintervale.
The memory still stung, a reminder that I wasn't enough for someone who wanted more than this town could offer.
And Lark—successful, beautiful, sophisticated Lark—would surely want more too.
As I pulled into my driveway, I couldn't shake the feeling that, despite my best intentions, I was already breaking the first rule we'd established.
Keep it professional. Don't get personally involved.
Too late, a voice in my head whispered. Too late by far.