Chapter 8
Aisling
Present day
Warm rays of sunlight streak in through the large A-frame balcony window, and I squint against the brightness as I blink myself awake.
It’s early – like, before six a.m. early – and the only sounds in the summer air are the gently lapping waves, and a few birds calling before they flit into the forest.
I push myself up onto my elbows as dust motes sparkle in front of my eyes, and I glance down to my left so that I can take a peek at my roommates. Plural. Because when Hunter walked us back last night and then accidentally learned that there was no lock on our front door he started quietly grumbling until Fallon told him that he could bunk with us.
So now six-foot-four Hunter Wilde is currently lying on his back in an unzipped lilac sleeping bag, his calves on the hardwood flooring because he’s about a million inches too tall for it. Fallon is draped gently over his chest as his palms protectively hold her head, and her pink cheek rests softly against his steadily beating heart.
I focus back on the dust motes as I wiggle my thighs out of my sleeping bag.
Picking up my phone and my travel bottle I flick the lid to check that there’s still some water inside of it and then I pad over to the large balcony doors, quietly making my way outside.
Summer morning sunlight bursts over the Larch Peak mountains on my left, the glowing rays warming my bare legs as I walk toward the balcony railing. Before I step up to the ledge I suddenly remember yesterday morning with the porch railing – as in, I touched it with my pinkie finger and the whole thing collapsed – so I quickly back up a couple of steps, eyeing the balcony lumber warily. I’ll have to give it a wobble at some point to check that it actually is secure, but I decide to wait until my helpers in the bedroom are on-hand and conscious, just in case.
But that reminds me. I set the bottle by my feet and unlock my phone, tapping open the Notes app. Yesterday morning Fallon and I picked up some basic essentials from town, but to get this project underway there’s a bunch of other stuff that I’ll be needing.
I quickly type out renovation supplies on a blank page, start a new paragraph, and then begin to type out every item that I can possibly think of – going methodically in my head, room by room.
I read over my list a few times, checking for anything I could have missed, until a quiet sound across the lake suddenly captures my attention. I lock my phone and place it next to the bottle on the floor, before taking a tentative step forward and looking to the other side of the lake.
My eyes roam across the small undulations, crystal clear ripples that burst into light when the sun catches them, until they finally reach the shore and my breathing halts in my chest.
Wearing shorts and a grey shirt, his tan skin glowing in the morning light, Tanner is quietly and methodically working out on the other side of the lake. I don’t know how many push-ups he’s done so far but when he reaches his next fifty I hear a low stifled grunt. His large back is strong and straight and his biceps pump relentlessly up and down, not stopping even after his next fifty, instead moving straight into one-armed reps. The thick cords protruding in his forearms are the only giveaway of any strain.
I want to lower myself to the wooden floor so that I can watch him in secret, but I decide that it’s better not to move, otherwise I might capture his attention.
I stand silent and still, eyes on the large muscles of his shoulders.
He does another fifty, this time with both palms pressed down, biceps bulging like crazy because his body mass is insane. When he finishes his last push-up he drops down onto his back, his broad chest heaving fast in the warm morning rays.
He throws one forearm over his eyes and drops his other hand to his shorts, giving himself a rough squeeze through the fabric before heavily rising to his feet. He shakes out his wrists as he kicks off his sneakers, stealthily making his way toward the lake’s golden edge. He’s as quiet as a wolf, his expression hard, deep in thought. The short sleeves of his shirt look as though they’re cutting painfully into his pumped biceps.
Realising how obvious my position up here is I begin to carefully move back a step, but Tanner’s head snaps up and his eyes lock in on my own.
I pause, eyes wide, as his own steps instantly halt.
He holds my eyes for a good five seconds before checking that there’s no-one else about. Then his eyes slide back up to mine and something dangerous flashes through them.
When his gaze slowly burns its way down my front I suddenly realise why.
“Oh no,” I breathe, fingers twitching at my sides because there’s no undoing what he’s looking at right now.
As in, he’s looking at me, looking at him, and I’m wearing his freaking shirt .
I know that it was Tanner who left it for me, because everyone else walked back at the same time. Plus, it’s khaki, which is so Tanner it makes my heart ache.
I swallow hard and try to calm down my little palpitations.
It’s okay , I tell myself. Maybe he’ll do the gentlemanly thing and just not say anything.
“Nice shirt,” he calls out, jerking his chin at me.
His loud voice carries so well in the bright morning air.
Refusing to be bested, I walk dangerously close to the edge of the balcony, making him pause his steps, narrowing his eyes.
“Isn’t it?” I call back, lifting a shoulder on a dreamy sigh. “I’m guessing it’s Tristan’s.”
A smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth because he knows that I know who left it for me.
“I’ll bet,” he rumbles, resuming his trudge to the water’s edge, eyes on mine even as his feet begin slowly sinking into the water. I watch his face, trying to gauge if the water is cool or already warmed, but he maintains his stoic composure, only looking away from me once so that he can squint into the sun.
When his gaze reaches back for mine we watch each other in silence. His breathing is deep and heavy, large shoulders swelling in rhythmic waves.
After a moment, he reaches back and rips his shirt over his head, balling it in his fist and quickly slugging it to the gravel behind him. With his large body exposed he wades deeper into the water, eyes searching mine as he waits for a reaction.
Now it’s my turn to maintain my stoic composure.
On a deep inhale, he lowers his body beneath the lake’s surface, staying under for maybe ten seconds before breaking back into the sparkling light.
He shoves a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his handsome face, and then begins to swim silently from his side of the lake to mine.
When he reaches the dead centre he settles into a standing float. He gruffly jerks his chin at me as he resists the push of the waves.
“Join me,” he says quietly, keeping his voice low, for my ears only.
I give him a playful roll of my eyes which reads, Tanner, as if.
Him in a pair of drenched workout shorts and me wearing – what? – his shirt and a pair of panties?
Being with Tanner is dangerous, especially when it’s just the two of us. He’s as reckless as I am, and when we’re naked we get downright stupid.
I gracefully dip down to collect my phone from the wood and, lifting my nose in the air, I tell him, “Actually, I’m working.”
His cheek tics up for the briefest of seconds.
“Baby, all you’re doing right now is working that pretty mouth.”
He swims slowly closer, strong and silent.
“It’s a Saturday, Aisling. Get down here and we can tick something off your bucket list.”
I blink quickly, alarmed, and then almost jump out of my skin as a tiny knock sounds behind me.
I whip around and see Fallon, still in her dress from last night, beaming up at me, fresh as a daisy. She’s pointing to something on the screen of her phone and when I tiptoe closer to the door I see that it’s the hardware store’s weekend opening times.
Saturday: 7am – 12pm.
Sunday: CLOSED.
I breathe out a shaky, grateful exhalation, relieved that she’s here with me to keep me on the straight and narrow – to keep me focused. If we head out in five we can get pancakes at the Larch Peak diner, and then make our way to the hardware store just as it opens. That gives me the whole day once we get back to start hauling all of the debris from the lake house and potentially give each room it’s preliminary clean-down, the perfect time to check for any major issues with the wood panelling and any sockets.
I give her an enthusiastic nod and she blows me a kiss before signalling that she needs two minutes to get changed. Hunter is still laying half-out of Fallon’s sleeping bag, palms pressed into his eyes as he lets out a low early morning groan. When he drops his hands he shoves himself to his feet, lazily moving our way so that he can give Fallon a rough squeeze from behind, and he drops a kiss to her cheek before she starts explaining our plan for the morning to him.
While they’re momentarily occupied I chance one more look over my shoulder and see that Tanner is still waiting for me silently in the bright morning sunspot, water lapping gently at his broad hockey player shoulders in endless golden swirls.
As reckless as I am , I remind myself.
Then I spin around on my heel and rush back inside the lake house.
*
I wipe the back of my wrist over my forehead as I finally sit myself down, my short denim overalls covered in dust and both of my knees rubbed red raw. I keep my back pressed against the wall beside the front door and take in the sight of my full day’s handiwork.
The lake house is shining from the inside out. Every surface that I could reach has been dusted and cleaned, ready to be sanded, painted and polished over in the coming days. Even without any furniture, the wooden walls and floors make the place seem cosy and warm.
It’s inviting. Intimate. I tip my head to the side, the last of the day’s summer light streaking through the large first floor windows, and I bask in the silence, listening mindfully to nothing but the lapping of the lake.
I breathe deep and even, tired but satisfied for my first day’s results.
A tiny vibration buzzes in my dungaree pouch, pulling me from my sunset bathing, and I lazily slip my baby pink phone out of the pocket.
It’s a text from Fallon, containing a photo of maybe thirty burgers in the back of someone’s car, with the caption your feast awaits and, like, ten thousand heart-eyes emojis.
I send her back the emoji of my spirit animal – the crawling baby – and tentatively lift myself from the floor, fluffing the fly-away wisps from my face as I nudge the door open with my sandal. There’s instant hollering from the other side of the lake as I begin casually making my way down the porch steps, hands in my hair to reaffix my fluffy bun. I flash a smile to the hockey boys who are whistling at me like they’ve just seen a Hollywood actress.
“Oh my God, stop!” I call over to them, shimmering with delight when they continue for my whole walk over. I’m blushing and hiding my dimples with my hands by the time that I reach their make-shift log-dining situation, comprised of three big pieces of lumber around a not-yet-lit campfire.
“Embarrassing,” I say when the guys wrap me in some sort of group bear hug, even though I haven’t stopped smiling for a single second.
Fallon teeters over from the log that she’s been sharing with Hunter and she presents a baggie of burgers and fries to me as if it’s made of diamonds.
I give my own diamonds a little rub, having totally forgotten that I was even wearing them.
They were a gift from my ex. I really ought to stop wearing them.
“Thank you so so so–” I begin, but then I stop my hand mid-reach as a thought suddenly crosses my mind. I retract my hand like I’ve just touched a hot flame and my wide eyes immediately dart to hers.
“Hold on. Who bought this?” I ask her, well aware that the early morning dipper is currently nowhere to be seen.
Fallon makes a wishy-washy kind of sound that has me narrowing my eyes on her.
“Fallon.”
“Yeah?”
“Who bought everyone’s dinner?” I ask again, a sinking feeling in my stomach. I already know that I’m about to take the very low, petty, hungry road.
She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like well maybe it was Tanner and I release a tiny howl.
No way am I eating it if that annoyingly hot big shot bought it. I refuse to be in his debt.
So I sniff and say, “Goodbye burger and fries,” before turning around so that I can face the guys again.
Except that when I turn around I fully whack my face into the world’s hardest set of chest muscles.
“Ow! What the hell!” I squeal, rubbing quickly at my forehead before glowering up at Tanner’s handsome face. “Jesus Christ, were you carved from stone?”
He ignores that and jabs a big blunt finger toward something over my shoulder.
“That’s for you,” he says, his expression unreadable.
I glance back to see what he’s talking about and I roll my eyes. Fallon has placed the burger and fries on a log and made a sad little shrine.
“No thanks,” I say, brushing past him so that I can head back to the lake house.
“Aisling, for Christ’s sakes. It’s just a goddamn burger.”
I spin around, shocked to see that he’s actually following me. I try to pick up my pace but he just grips me by my elbow and starts herding me over to his irritatingly sexy G-wagon.
“You are one stubborn woman,” he adds on in a quiet growl as he snatches the burger, rounds me to the back of his car, and pushes the food into the palms of my hands.
It really does smell good.
I scowl up at him anyway. “My belly, my prerogative.”
He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, momentarily checking me out over my overalls.
When he lifts his gaze back to mine he jerks his chin at me and says, “What, you don’t like fries or something?”
Before I can answer he pulls me away from the door of his car, tugging it open and jerking his thumb at the backseat.
“I bought a bunch of stuff, take your pick,” he says, his voice gravelly and quiet. His cheeks stain pink when he mumbles, “There’s a blackberry cobbler back there that’s pretty good, too. Sugar cookie crumble on top. It’s… it’s my favourite.”
I tamper down that little squeeze in my heart. He’s offering me his favourite food.
I hesitate for a second too long and Tanner gently tugs the burger and fries from my tightly clenched fist, replacing it with a small disposable tinfoil tray containing a freshly-baked blackberry cobbler.
He eases a fork into my hand, giving me the world’s cutest peace offering.
Tanner clears his throat, his big warm body close to mine. “Try it,” he rumbles. “My mom always gets it when my dad’s in town. It’s our favourite.”
I risk a glance up into his eyes and he’s looking down at me with red cheeks, his expression hopeful.
Damn it, Tanner, I think to myself. Why did you have to be a player?
I drop my gaze and take the smallest forkful of cobbler that I can, nibbling in silence as he watches me from a foot above. It’s warm and sweet. I find it kind of adorable that this is Tanner’s favourite food.
I swallow my mouthful and place the fork back in the tray, letting him know that the moment is over.
Tanner stares down at me.
“Keep eating.”
Heat floods through my chest as I flash him a dangerous glare.
He watches me in silence.
I pick back up the fork.
He grunts when I shovel in a giant forkful of cobbler, eyes gleaming black when they momentarily capture mine.
“Like it?” he asks.
I frown up at him, not saying anything.
He smirks back down at me. “You love it, huh?”
I practically growl as I shove the dish back into his hands, dissipating the intimacy of Tanner feeding me his cobbler. He smirks, dipping his thumb into the juice, and sucking off the flavour with a molten gleam in his eyes.
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Been a while since I tasted anything that sweet.”
“Oh my God ,” I explode, humourless and exasperated. “ You are so freaking smug, Tanner! How the hell did I miss those signs?”
I roll my eyes at myself as I head back to where everyone else is, on the other less intense side of Tanner’s giant car.
“Wait.” Tanner drops the cobbler into the backseat, blocking my path as I go to walk around the hood. My eyes momentarily flick to the veins in his biceps and I remember just how capable his body can be. “It wasn’t like that, Aisling. You and me? It was never like that.”
I shove my way past him, hating how much I love hearing the way he rumbles my name. That deep country drawl. I’ll never get over it.
I plonk down beside Fallon, turning my head in the opposite direction when I hear him trudging into the clearing.
He genuinely has the balls to sit down right next to me, his giant shoulder pressing into mine and radiating more heat than a mountain bear.
“You. Are. So. Annoying!” I stamp down on his boot with every word that I grind out.
He snickers and hunches forward, taking a huge bite out of a burger.
I blink down at it in confusion as he manages to swallow a whole half in one go.
He takes another abnormally large bite as he silently shoves a brown paper bag onto my lap, inconspicuously, so that no-one around us will see.
Begrudgingly I look inside. He’s offering me his fries.
I scrunch the bag shut, my heart a volcano of conflicting feelings.
Tanner finishes off his burger on bite number three, and then, to my amazement, gets to work on a second one.
“No wonder you’re so big,” I whisper, reaching into the brown bag and cautiously nibbling on a fry.
He grunts and continues eating. Zero ceremony.
As I passively listen to the hockey talk happening between Austin, Hunter and Tristan, Tanner crumples up his second burger wrapper and slides his eyes over to my legs.
“What happened there?” he asks, his gaze burning onto my scuffed kneecaps.
I swish my hair around. “I told you. I’m working.”
“Yeah? What’re you working on? Sanding your bones?”
He glances away from me for a good five seconds and then, like an obsessive psycho, looks back at my knees again.
“You got any Band-Aids?” he asks.
“I don’t need Band-Aids,” I reply.
He exhales hard, biceps flexing. “Aisling, you’re bleeding.”
I glance down at my knees. I am in fact bleeding.
I re-cross my legs in the opposite direction to him, so that he can’t see.
He breathes out a humourless laugh and shoves himself to his feet. Then he hauls me up with him.
“Uh, what the hell do you think that you’re doing?” I whisper as he starts pulling me silently towards his cabin. Then I spot a third burger baggie beside where he was sitting and I stare at it with my jaw on the floor. “Were you about to eat a third burger?” I ask. His giant hand grips surprisingly gently around my elbow.
He snickers and flicks his eyes down to mine. “Baby, I was already on burger number two before your little ass came struttin’ over here. That’s burger number five.”
I blink up at him, speechless, and he stares down at me, hungrier than ever.
He shoulder-shoves his cabin door open and stabs a finger toward his bed.
“Sit there. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
My eyes almost roll out of my head. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m going anywhere near your bed.”
“Yeah?” he asks absently as he yanks open a wooden cupboard in the small back bathroom. “Caught you eyeing it up pretty friendly yesterday morning.”
I shuffle a little, resisting the urge to give the soft quilt cover a little scrunch.
“That was because I thought that you’d vacated the premises,” I say, swallowing hard to try and choke down the lie.
“You’d miss me,” he says, his voice seductively deep.
I shove five French fries in my mouth and mumble, “In your dreams.”
He smirks as he moves in front of me, red first aid kit in his big fist.
“You do more than just miss me in my dreams,” he drawls.
Then he drops down to his knees.
“W-what are you doing?” I say nervously, stumbling backwards.
His cheeks are red, eyes refusing to meet mine as he searches quickly for some saline. “Gonna fix up your knees,” he mumbles, his breathing a little heavy.
He looks up at me from his position on the wooden floor, haunches spread and shoulders heaving. My heart beats wildly in my chest at the amount of adoration in his eyes.
I shake my head quickly and wheeze out, “N-no, that’s okay. I’ll do it myself.”
“Aisling,” he rasps.
“Tanner, we shouldn’t–”
“Baby–”
A ringing sound makes me jump, and we quickly glance at his bed in confusion.
His phone vibrates gently on the flowery quilt.
The screen is facedown.
Tanner stands up quickly, grabs the phone, and curses.
“Fuck. I have to take this.”
I wince at that all-too-familiar twisting pain in my gut.
“Give me the box,” I say as calmly as I can, gesturing with a hand for him to just pass it over already.
He watches me for a moment, a deep frown on his brow. Then, slowly, he passes it to me.
I practically run out of the cabin, my heart pounding in my chest, and as much as I try not to, I can’t help but listen out for the quiet rumble of his voice as he talks in a gentle hush to whoever is on the other side of the line.
The last thing that I hear before I decide to call it a night is him chuckling softly and saying, “I love you, too.”