Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The next morning my eyes opened to the sound of nails clicking against hardwood. I blinked, heavy-lidded, and saw George prancing in circles near the door. I’d never had a dog before, but his message was crystal clear. He had to go to the bathroom.
My gaze stretched toward the couch, but just like yesterday, Dean was already gone.
I sat up, rubbed over my eyes, and drew a deep breath. George made eye contact with me and scratched again.
“Okay, okay, I’m up.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool against my feet as I shuffled to my bag.
A loose T-shirt, and the first pair of shorts my hand landed on were as much effort as I could muster.
My hair was a mess, my face still creased from sleep, but George didn’t seem to care.
This time his paw hit the door, and he stared at me, as I slowly dragged the shirt down and into place.
“Okay, I’m hurrying,” I said, shoving my feet into the first pair of sandals I could find.
A few minutes later, I was outside in the damp morning air clipping his leash onto his collar before letting him barrel down the steps. He dragged me across the porch, straight to a patch of grass a few feet away, and squatted.
I turned away, giving him the privacy he deserved, and tipped my face toward the sky.
Morning stretched wide and clear, the kind of blue that felt almost too pure to last. Birds chattered from the treetops, their songs weaving through the hush of pine and damp earth.
The air carried that sharp, clean sweetness storms always left behind, and for one fragile heartbeat, it felt like the world was perfect—like if I reached for it, the moment might dissolve in my hands.
George sniffed around as I let my mind wander—back to the firelight, the weight of Dean’s forehead resting against mine, and the kiss that had left me breathless.
Then all of a sudden George’s body went rigid. I followed his line of vision to a bush, where a blur of brown fur darted from one patch of grass to another. George's ears shot up and he tilted his head.
“Oh, no.”
And then he exploded forward, tearing the leash from my hand as he bolted down a mud-covered path after a rabbit.
“GEORGE! STOP!” I yelled. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even consider listening to me.
Branches whipped at my arms as I sprinted after him, sandals sliding on the damp earth, George tearing through the clearing up ahead of me. His ears flying, paws pounding, absolutely thrilled with himself.
“GEORGE! YOU MENACE! GET BACK HERE!” I shouted, half-gasping, half-laughing. “I am not built for this!”
But George didn’t care. George was a creature after his own destiny. And apparently, destiny involved giving me a heart attack before breakfast.
I rounded a bend—
And slammed straight into a wall of heat and muscle.
The air rushed out of me as I collided with a solid chest, and then I was falling.
Dean had been running full tilt from the other direction, and when I appeared in his path there was nowhere for either of us to go. He tried to catch me, I tried to stop my fall—neither of us was successful.
We hit the dirt hard, tumbling in a mess of limbs down a hill until the ground finally stopped us. My lungs burned, my pulse rioted, and then I realized—Dean was on top of me.
His body caged me in, warm and solid, his breath fanning across my cheek. For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes swept over my face, dazed but intent, like he wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened but couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“You…” His voice came out rough, his brow furrowing. “You just appeared out of nowhere.”
I blinked up at him, still breathless. “Correction. You ran me over.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t quite manage it. “Pretty sure you darted in front of me.”
“Pretty sure I didn’t,” I shot back, heat crawling up my neck. “George was chasing a rabbit.”
That pulled his gaze away—briefly—to the trees, where George was sniffing a patch of grass a few feet away looking completely innocent. “So, you were chasing George?”
My lips parted, “Yes.”
His weight shifted just slightly against me, enough to make my breath hitch. Dean’s mouth curved, slow and adorable. “You know… if you wanted me on top of you, there were easier ways.”
I gasped, smacking his shoulder, even as my pulse skittered wildly. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm.” His eyes glinted, daring. “And you’re blushing.”
Before I could shove him off, a cold nose wedged between us, and George planted a sloppy lick across Dean’s jaw, tail wagging like he was proud of himself.
Dean groaned, pushing him back with one arm. “Perfect timing, George.”
I covered my face with my hands, half mortified, half amused.
And of course, that was the exact moment voices carried through the trees.
“Dean?” Trisha’s voice called with curiosity. “Is that you?”
Dean froze above me.
A second later, Thomas stood behind her, coffee cups in hand.
They both stopped short, their gazes sweeping over the scene—me flat on my back, Dean on top of me, George panting happily by our sides.
Thomas’s brow arched. A grin tugged at his mouth. “Well. Morning you two.”
“Morning,” Dean and I said in unison.
Thomas’s grin widened “Ah, young love. I almost forgot what it was like. Passion so uncontrollable you find yourself frolicking in the forest.”
Trisha elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re ridiculous.”
But Thomas wasn’t done. His grin sharpened as he tipped his chin to us. “Just… maybe save some of that energy for the rugby match this afternoon, yeah?”
My stomach dipped, and I glanced up at Dean, remembering the shirts Mr. McHenry had handed us at the banquet.
Dean pushed smoothly to his feet, brushed himself off, then pulled me up so easily it was as though I weighed nothing at all.
Before I could even gather my wits, Trisha caught me at my elbow and pulled me aside, eyes glinting with curiosity and humor. “Okay,” she said, dragging out the word. “Do I even want to know how you two ended up rolling around in the dirt together?”
Heat rushed up my neck. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Thomas let out a booming laugh. “That’s always what people say when it’s exactly what it looks like.”
Dean reached over, fingers brushing lightly through my hair as he plucked out a twig I hadn’t realized was there. “George saw a rabbit,” he said simply.
Trisha arched her brow. “Mm-hm. I’m not sure how that equates to two adults rolling around in the woods, but—” she broke off with a knowing smile— “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”
Dean chuckled then moved on ahead, his hand curled around George’s lead as he fell into step with Thomas. He glanced back just once, offering me the smallest smile of reassurance before turning forward again.
Trisha gave my arm a gentle squeeze, pulling me back to the moment. “So…” she said, her grin returning. “Are you looking forward to the game later?”
“The game?” I echoed cautiously.
“Rugby,” Trisha clarified, her eyes narrowing like she was testing me. “You’re playing, right?”
I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. “Honestly, I’ll probably sit this one out. I’m not much of an athlete, and I haven’t the faintest idea of the rules.”
Trisha’s jaw dropped. She gasped as though I’d confessed something sinister. “Sit this out?” She called out so Thomas could hear. “Can you believe this? Vivienne thinks she’s going to sit this out.”
Thomas spun around, walking backward with a grin. “Viv, honey, you’re not sitting out. Everyone who comes to the lodge plays at least once. It’s a rite of passage.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Dean stopped and nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. “They’re right. No one comes to the lodge without stepping onto the field at least once.”
Trisha pulled me in a little closer, her voice brimming with excitement. “You’re playing, Viv. Trust me—you’ll thank us later.”
Thomas gave me an encouraging nod, his grin making it clear this decision had already been made for me. It was three against one, and I wasn’t winning this battle.
Reluctantly, I sighed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you… or that I won't trip over my own feet.”
Trisha clapped her hands together in delight, her eyes sparkling like she’d just won something great. “Oh, girl, this is going to be so much fun!”
Back at the cabin, I tugged the bright red jersey over my head, then turned toward the mirror to tuck the front edge into my shorts. The crest was bold, loud, and far too official-looking for something Trisha had promised would be just for fun.
Across the room, Dean pulled his own shirt over his head, and my stomach sank when I caught sight of the rival black.
I groaned. “This feels like a setup. Like if I fail, I’ll be kicked out of the lodge.”
Dean’s mouth tugged at the corner, “That’s ridiculous. It’s just for fun.”
“Just for fun? You have team jerseys with custom crests.”
Dean looked down to his own shirt as though realizing for the first time how extreme it was. “Well, it’s kind of evolved over the years, I guess. And one of my cousins is a graphic designer.”
My eyes narrowed a little. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Guilty,” he admitted easily, tossing his towel aside and reaching for his sneakers. “But don’t worry. Rugby’s not as scary as it looks.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” I eyed him up and down. Taking in his long legs, the unfair width of his shoulders, and the fact that gravity seemed to work differently on men that looked like him. “You’re like seven feet tall—”
“Six foot four,” he corrected.
“Plus, I don’t even know the rules. The way Trisha explained it made it sound like I was signing up for the gladiator games.”
Dean chuckled, crossing the room to stand in front of me.
He reached out, adjusting the hem of my jersey where it had bunched up in the back.
“Think of it like… a very chaotic tag. With a ball. You run it down the field, try not to get tackled, and pass to your teammates when your life seems threatened. That’s it. ”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” His eyes softened, like he could see the panic tightening in my chest. “It’s all in good fun.
No one’s expecting you to know what you’re doing.
Just stay on your feet, don’t run toward the people twice your size, and if all else fails…
” he leaned in slightly, voice dropping low, “find me.”
Something fluttered in my stomach, my pulse stuttering at the promise tucked into his words.
I arched a brow, fighting a smile. “And if you’re the one charging me?”
His smirk widened, boyish and unguarded. “Then I’ll go easy on you.”