Chapter 18
The place was definitely looking better, Madeline thought as she cruised the long driveway into Grant’s dad’s place.
Although she missed helping Grant and seeing him every night, there was one upside to only coming to his dad’s every two or three days: the progress was so noticeable.
It was also true, of course, that a person could get used to anything, and part of her didn’t take in the whole mess in detail anymore.
Just as she made that observation, the sight of a heavily burdened flat-deck trailer made her laugh out loud.
Good grief! How many old washers and dryers could one man get his hands on?
There had to be thirty on the trailer, at least. That would clear up a chunk of yard space, for sure. Grant had been busy.
And think of the devil, there he was by the shop, his back to her, a pair of big headphones on, explaining why he hadn’t heard her drive up.
Madeline parked and climbed out of her van, smiling.
Sneaking up behind him, she tapped his shoulder—and was rewarded to see him jump almost out of his skin.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said as he turned around.
“Of course! Who else would it be?”
Grant shook his head. “No one—but I wasn’t expecting you either. I thought you couldn’t come until tomorrow.”
“It’s my day off.”
“Well, I know that.” A trace of Grant’s old testiness reared. She hadn’t heard it for so long that she’d almost forgotten about his bite-your-head-off tendency. “I meant, I thought you had shop stuff you needed to do today.”
“I do,” Madeline admitted, but then she motioned wildly around herself, smiling broadly. “What do you see?”
Grant slowly followed her gaze, then grumpily scrubbed at his face. “A total dump and fool’s mission?”
“Wow, someone’s in a mood today.”
He didn’t deny it, but his grouchiness only reminded her of the little gift she’d brought for him, and mirth, not annoyance, buzzed through her.
“Anyway, Mr. Sunshine—I wasn’t talking about what you see in the yard here, which I think is really coming along, by the way. I mean the weather. It’s glorious!”
Grant looked up at the brilliant, cloudless sky as if he’d never seen it before. Then he glanced back at Madeline, his expression softening and his eyes warming as the latest thing stuck in his craw finally fell away. “Finally, yes, some weather worthy of the name summer.”
“Exactly! And nights are getting chillier. We won’t have much time.”
“For what?”
“All work, no play makes Jack a dull boy!”
Grant was full-on smiling now. “Is that so?”
“That is so.” Madeline nodded somberly. “And just for the record, you’re the boy named Jack in this scenario.”
“Yeah, I figured—so, what exactly are you proposing?”
Madeline grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her van. “I’m kidnapping you and taking you to the lake.”
“To the lake? Really?”
“Yep. Look.”
Grant obediently looked into the backseat of the van, then grinned even more broadly.
“Yes,” Madeline confirmed in a jokingly gloating tone. “That big ol’ basket does hold the best picnic you’ll ever have in your life, and that patchwork quilt is the softest, comfiest thing to sit on the sand on, and—”
“I’m sold. You had me at lake, but I’m sure the food will be passable.”
“Passable.” Madeline snorted in mock outrage and pretended she was going to smack him.
“We should stop by my place so I can grab shorts.”
“No need.” Madeline grabbed a bag from the passenger seat. “You can borrow one of my towels, and . . . ” She reached into the bag and withdrew a pair of knee-length swim shorts.
Grant’s eyes widened as he took in their flamboyant print: a vivid blue background with bright orange crabs everywhere.
“I couldn’t resist.” She laughed. “Crabs for the crab. Get it?”
“Ha-ha, you’re a riot.”
The scenery along the highway on the drive out was so beautiful it was almost unreal—and it captivated Madeline’s attention completely.
The far-off mountain ranges were a soft, hazy blue in the heat.
A swath of evergreens lined the highway and sloped into a massive, untouched valley on one side.
Soon, what could only be the sought-after lake appeared, shimmering sapphire and silver in the distance.
Eventually, Madeline noticed Grant kept shooting her looks.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Nothing, really—just you’re pretty as a song in that dress. It makes me want to pick you up and twirl you around the minute we stop driving.”
“Don’t you dare. I get dizzy,” Madeline said sternly but felt ridiculously flattered.
She’d loved the summery red dress with its three-quarter length sleeves and floaty, knee-length skirt too—so much that she’d bought it outright from the person who brought it in, not bothering with consignment, knowing it was going into her own closet.
She touched the wide brim of her sunhat a bit self-consciously. “You don’t think the hat is too much?”
“Absolutely not.” A moment later, he added, “And I never saw you as the play-hooky-to-go-the-lake type before. It suits you too.”
Madeline smiled. “Maybe I do a lot of stuff that you don’t know about.”
Somehow her words sounded full of innuendo. Madeline could’ve kicked herself.
“Oh, really? Do tell.” Grant’s smile said he’d heard the same note in her voice.
“But also,” she continued, fighting a fluttery feeling in her stomach, “I’ve been working so much, and the weather, even when it was okay, didn’t exactly scream lake weather.”
“And now it does?”
“Yep. Totally.” She nodded. “And also, it’s just, well, good to get a break, and—”
Grant raised an eyebrow, and she wished she’d stop babbling. Why did going to the lake with Grant feel so different than working with him or catching a bite to eat someplace after work? She flushed, admitting to herself that those pop by dinner invites had been feeling different lately, too.
“Plus, I didn’t know about this lake until Gwen told me about it. Apparently, it’s one of her and her grandkids’ favorite places in the world.”
“Hmmm,” Grant said, sounding weirdly pleased or content about something.
They were crossing over a wide, slow-running creek via a metal bridge—very picturesque—but Madeline shot Grant a quick glance. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing much. I’m just really looking forward to getting to know all the things about you that I don’t know, that’s all. It sounds very . . . promising.”
Madeline shook her head, feeling her cheeks—and somewhere deep inside—burn even hotter. “Don’t get your hopes up too high.”
“Too late,” Grant said, and Madeline didn’t know what was brighter, the sun or the terrifyingly happy feeling their silly flirting stirred within her.
They parked and walked a shaded path to a graveled picnic area that opened up into a wide expanse of grass and sandy beach, interspersed with giant evergreen trees that looked like something out of a fairy tale.
At her first close-up glimpse of the lake, glowing golden now, not blue, Madeline was giddy with delight. It sparkled like it was studded with diamonds as far as the eye could see.
Grant disappeared to change in a nearby outhouse.
She spread her queen-sized patchwork quilt beneath the shelter of a massive trio of cedar trees and stashed the picnic basket in a blueberry bush at the base of the shadiest tree.
Then she turned a pirouette, taking everything in and inhaling the mingled scents of fresh, clean lake water, sun-warmed pine, and coconutty sunblock.
It was such a quintessential smell of summer, of happiness, that she wished she could bottle it.
It would be so popular she wouldn’t need to sell anything else.
Kicking off her peep-toe sandals, she scuffed her feet through the hot sand and laughed with joy at the sensation.
How had she not found this place before now?
She felt like an eight-year-old kid! For such a terrifically gorgeous day, the beach, though not deserted, was not what anyone would call busy.
She loved the wilderness feeling of the spot and knew then and there she’d come back often—all year long.
It would be spectacular in every season; she was sure of it.
Then Grant returned from the outhouse, shirtless and in his wacky new shorts, and she realized “eight” was wrong, dead wrong.
She felt more like a lusty fifteen or something—young enough to be absolutely thrilled by the magical quality of the spot, but old enough that other elements of beach life had allure.
. . . Grant had a very nice chest, for example, and she particularly liked the trail of fur—
Sheesh, who was she right now? The summer heat was getting to her, all right.
It was her turn to hit the outhouse, but a quick explore revealed she could have a much less stinky changing experience if she walked a bit further along the beach.
As she made her way back from the shower house and change room a few minutes later and neared the blanket, Grant looked up lazily from where he was already sprawled in full relaxation mode.
Then, as if just seeing her, he bolted upright and did a double-take.
Suddenly self-conscious but deliciously flattered, her core temperature spiked another couple of degrees.
“That, you—wow. I thought I liked your dress, but I really, really like your bathing suit,” Grant said a little hoarsely. “You look like Betty Boop.”
Madeline smoothed her hands down her suit and grinned. “Betty Boop, eh?”
He moved his hands in a wavy hourglass shape. “Absolutely.”
She sat down beside him, thinking it was funny how often their minds seemed to connect in the weirdest ways. With its heart-shaped, halter-styled neckline and little skirt, the black and red suit had reminded her of the vivacious cartoon character, too.
The rest of the afternoon was as lovely as a dream and occasionally as surreal.