Chapter 1
Aisling
Present day
My fingers tighten around the wheel of my brother Connell’s 4x4 and Fallon, my best friend riding shotgun in the passenger seat, lets out a high-pitched yip as we lurch over another uneven patch of off-road terrain.
“Are we there yet?” she squeaks, hand gripping into the safety handle above her window.
I look through the rear view mirror and peek at the emerald green larch trees behind us. They’ve already completely obscured the road that secretly off-shoots onto the lower forest’s dirt track, leading to a magical suntrap and Larch Peak’s secluded seven and a half mile lake, right before the land trails up into the sloping mountains that the small town was named after.
My eyes drop back down to the navigation system on the dash and that little red pin indicates that we’re almost at our destination.
“It’s got to be, like, just through here,” I say reassuringly, although admittedly I’ve never actually visited this Larch Peak property. I chew nervously on my bottom lip as the car lurches over another undulation of crunchy rocks. “I mean, it isn’t as if no-one has ever been here before. So why the hell is there no signage on the road?” I lift my right pointer finger off the wheel and my glittery golden polish sparkles in the summer morning sunlight. “First port of call on this renovation? Make a road sign so that people can actually find their way here.”
Fallon makes a nervous sound, fingertips tapping agitatedly on the back of her lilac phone case. “Are you sure that we can do this? Like, just the two of us?”
I try to tamper down the nerves tingling in my belly.
“Of course! For one, the house isn’t in total disrepair.” According to my parents, who haven’t actually visited this site in, like, ten years. “After I get the plumbing and electric contractors to check the water and the wiring, it’s going to be mostly the aesthetic side of things for us to deal with. A lot of wood polishing, maybe brushing a few stray twigs off the porch. Repairing the molding around the windows before I start ordering cute furniture. I don’t know the finer details but, seriously, how hard can it be? Plus, there’s a hardware store in Larch Peak that we can do our errand runs at, and Connell, Logan and some of the other football guys are going to stop by pretty soon, too.”
I feel Fallon’s eyes slide my way and notice that her fingers begin tapping more pointedly on her phone.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Hunter can visit, too.”
A sunshine shimmer immediately radiates out of my best friend. “He’s actually staying in Larch Peak while we’re here,” she tells me, beaming. “Him and a whole group of the Carter U hockey boys. I think that they’re hanging out at his place by the creek.”
My grip turns vise-like around the wheel of the 4x4.
“Him and the Carter U hockey boys?” I ask, my eyes wide and unblinking.
“Mm-hm,” she says nonchalantly, before suddenly flipping over her vibrating phone and squealing. “Ooh, look at that! He’s texting me right now.”
As Fallon clicks open the message on her cell the bright green canopy overhead breaks, and I let out a sigh of relief as we enter a golden clearing. The head of the large Larch Peak lake is twinkling gently on our right and the whole reason why we’re here is waiting patiently on our left.
I breathe out a shaky, excited exhale as I take in the sight of the structure before us.
It’s a two story wood-built lakeside house, with a wide set of wooden stairs that lead up to a wrap-around porch. The first floor looks to the lake out front, looping around to a forest-facing patio at the back, with rustic columns creating an overhanging shelter outside and a sturdy base for the second floor balcony. There’s a cute dormer window set beside a medium-sized stone chimney, and the giant master suite sits imposingly under a gable roof.
I press a hand over my chest, trying to subdue my welling emotions.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, fanning back my happy tears.
Fallon makes an intrigued humming sound as a piece of the porch railing thuds to the ground.
We look at it in silence as we mutually try not to panic.
“Okay, so it will be perfect once we’re finished with it,” I admit casually, manoeuvring the truck into a perfect 4x4 sized space beside the porch.
We both climb out of the truck and move around to the front of the hood, looking up at the large cabin with our hands on our hips.
“So, yeah, we’re going to have to fix pretty much everything that’s made of wood,” I confess as we take in the loose boards and water damage.
Fallon’s eyes fly to mine. “The whole house is made of wood,” she gasps, the magnitude of this summer project starting to dawn on the both of us.
I breathe out a nervous laugh and begin twiddling with my diamond earrings.
“Okay, technically you’re correct,” I begin, “but I don’t think that it’s the body of the build that needs the repairs. It’s mainly this outside porch patio bit that might need a little fix-up, because I’m guessing that maybe it wasn’t part of the original build? Like, the actual house looks lacquered up and secure – it’s the exterior railings and stuff that need redoing.”
“And then there’s the inside,” Fallon says, totally reading my mind.
I wave a hand to try and dispel our entwined fear of failure.
“The building isn’t hopeless, it just hasn’t been utilised. After we check the plumbing and electric it’s going to be solely an aesthetic job. Sanding, painting, and then the final stage will be properly decorating.” I twist my lips to the side, a frown creasing my brow. “It’s such a perfect small town hideaway, with so much potential. I just can’t stand the thought of my parents demolishing it.”
“Why would they demolish it?” Fallon asks, although when her eyes roam back to the wilting railing she purses her lips and says, “Uh, never mind.”
I give her a teasing roll of my eyes. “Okay, so it’s not just the fix-up job that has my parents wanting to quit on it, because fixing up a crappy porch can’t be that hard.”
I mean, I really freaking hope that it isn’t that hard.
“They construct and sell real estate, and most of their profits come from the big-money city states. The huge condo in Carter Ridge? That’s one of their smaller projects. But if I’m joining the company then I want to make sure that I love my job. And expanding their small town portfolio is literally everything that I’ve ever wanted.”
Fallon nods. “So this lakeside house…?”
“They didn’t buy the house to sell it – they bought the land so that no-one else could. Because those little cabins across the shore there? They’re ours too. And they didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on this land and then potentially building something which would disrupt the beautiful view. But as soon as I found out about this property I knew that I didn’t want them to demolish it, and then it triggered this light-bulb moment of what I wanted my role in the company to be. To me, Larch Peak is perfection, and I want to use my time to restore builds like this one.”
“You mean like house flipping?” Fallon asks.
“Exactly,” I tell her. “When my parents acquire land, if there’s a build like this one, I want to re-establish it. Repair it. Give it a second chance.”
I shield the sun from my eyes as it glitters against the lake.
“I want to do this,” I admit, “and I’m going to prove to them that I’m the right girl for the job.”
Fallon has an understanding sparkle in her eyes as she says, “This is really important to you.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “And if I don’t complete this reno, then this lake house is going to be rubble when the summer is over. And if I don’t convince my parents that house-flipping and expanding into the small town avenue is worthwhile…”
I toe the point of my sandal in the dirt and shake my head.
It was always known that I would join my family’s business, but I want my role to be one that I head-over-heels love . And as a girl who never got to experience a quiet rural life? There’s nothing that I want more than to shower these beautiful small towns in love.
Sensing my spiking fear, Fallon gives her hair a confident swish. “You know what? You’re right. We can totally do this. Guys do stuff like this all the time, right? Like, in Jurassic World . Wasn’t Chris Pratt building a house or something?”
“I think he was fixing a motorbike. Oh, wait! In the second one? Yeah, he was totally building a house.”
Fallon nods. “Exactly. The point is, we’re more than capable of fixing a few wooden panels and turning this place into the sexy hideaway that it was always meant to be. Besides, Hunter will totally help out whenever we need him to, and you’ve got Connell coming to join us too. Honestly, Ash? By the end of this project, I bet that this house will be so beautiful that you’re going to want to keep it.”
I breathe out a laugh and say, “Okay, that actually isn’t allowed to happen. I need to be professional about this project, even if it is my first one. No getting sentimental and attached.” Even if this looks like it could be my dream house.
I mean, the second that I saw the photos I was immediately love-struck. And I hadn’t fallen that quickly in, like, four whole years.
I brush my thumb over the love-heart freckle that sits just beneath my elbow as Fallon and I begin walking toward the wide porch steps.
“This is going to be amazing,” I whisper, looking up with shimmery eyes at the gorgeous lake house.
When we reach the steps I give the first wooden board a tentative nudge, making sure that it’s solid and secure. Then we walk up to the wrap-around porch and look out across the lake, sparkling blue in the morning sunshine.
“This has so much potential it’s crazy,” I say. I’m almost overwhelmed by how much good could possibly come out of this risky summer venture. “Just look at that view.”
I gently rest a hand on the wooden railing but in the next second I squeal, because the entire fence collapses over the ledge.
Fallon grabs my arm to stop me from falling with it, and we stare wide-eyed at the dust cloud that poufs up around the scattered wood.
“So, step one, rebuild this railing,” Fallon whispers, a nervous tremble in her pretty Colorado accent. “Actually, maybe that’s step two. Do we have anywhere to sleep while we’re here?”
I blink at her innocently and she presses her palm against her forehead.
“Oh my God,” she mumbles. “This is why you packed those sleeping bags.”
“I’m sorry!” I squeal as she begins pacing the porch. The wooden slats groan ominously beneath her and she quickly decides that maybe pacing isn’t such a good idea.
“I thought that maybe we were going camping,” she pouts sadly, her eyes drifting longingly to the larch forest bordering the lake.
“We will, I swear! It’s part of our summer bucket list, remember? But I have two months to flip this house before my mom gets here to survey it. We’ll simultaneously DIY the house and check stuff off our bucket list, okay?”
Fallon thinks about that for a moment and then her eyes trail over to the other side of the lake.
“Yes to the bucket list thing, but I’m still not one-hundred percent sure about sleeping on the floor, sleeping bag or no sleeping bag. I mean, what about those cabins?” she asks, pointing a sparkly lilac nail across the shimmering water. “You said that your parents own those too. Maybe we could stay in those while we do the renovation on this one.”
I fold my arms across my chest and let out a sigh. “Believe me, I checked. All of the cabins have been booked up for the summer.”
“Darn it,” she mumbles. “Okay, so, do you have a tent? Because maybe we could set up a tent, just in case the interior flooring isn’t up to scratch, and then we could put our sleeping bags inside the tent for extra comfort.”
I look at her in amazement as we head back down to the 4x4.
I squeeze her hand in mine and say, “Fallon, you are beauty and brains.”
She gives me a mischievous smile and then lets out a wild howl as we race to the truck.
“Hammering the lake house into shape, camping in the forest, ticking stuff off our summer bucket list in some sexy small town bar…” My heart pounds with adrenaline as we round the bed of the truck, and Fallon leans against the side panel as I lift up the back. I pass her a sleeping bag before hugging my own tightly against my chest and we share an excited laugh as we make our way to the shore. “Like, seriously,” I say, “what could possibly go wrong?”
The sunlight sparkles dazzlingly in Fallon’s bright crystalline eyes but just as she’s about to say something she suddenly cocks her head to one side. A flash of intrigue flares in her pretty irises.
“Hey, look,” she says quickly, tipping her chin subtly across the lake. “Seems as though our campsite buddies are arriving at the same time as us.”
My gaze flicks across the lake so that I can see what Fallon’s looking at and my eyes instantly widen, too stunned to speak.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
I almost stumble back a step as the large black G-wagon pulls into view, parking directly in front of one of the cosy lakeside cabins.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I say, as I watch two more trucks pull up to the shore on the opposite side of the lake.
“Oh my God!” Fallon screams, squealing with delight as she realises what’s happening right now. “Is that–?”
A small whimper leaves my throat. “Yes,” I whisper, horrified.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe they did this! Hunter!” she calls out as her soon-to-be-pro hockey player boyfriend heavily dismounts from the passenger side of his best friend’s car.
He’s immediately grinning our way, radiating his heady natural confidence, but it’s the guy in the drivers’ seat who sends my pulse into overtime.
My palms grow slick as my cheeks burn red.
I hear the quiet thud of his boots hitting the dirt as he trudges around the front of the car, drawling about something to Hunter in his deep country accent. But Hunter says something back to him and he immediately stops talking.
He lifts his head in our direction, and his eyes burn straight into mine.
After graduating a couple of weeks ago I never thought that I would see him again.
And of all the places to spend his summer break, he’s here, with nothing but the lake between us.
Tanner.
He’s here.
My jaw practically hits the floor.
He holds my gaze for what feels like an eternity, his large shoulders rising and falling as we stare at each other over the lake in silence.
But then he breaks the daydream, just like he always has.
He shoves a hand through his hair and jerks his chin at me.
“Howdy neighbour.”