Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Four years later
“You weren’t kidding about this being a one-horse town,” Quinn says from the passenger seat. “Remind me again why you wanted to come back here, of all places?”
“Because it’s pretty, and it’s peaceful,” I say, though if I had known my new neighbor would be running his power tools at all hours of the day and night, I never would have bought the cute A-frame I moved into last fall.
Quinn’s expression softens. “Is it helping?”
“I don’t know.” I lower both windows to let in the warm summer breeze while turning out of the airport parking lot.
There’s another reason I wanted to move back to Finn River, but it’s too raw to talk about, even with Quinn.
“Well, tonight should move the needle,” Quinn says, slipping on her shades. “Maybe we’ll find you a cowboy to cozy up with, too.”
I shake my head. “Don’t you start with that.”
“Oh come on, what better way to celebrate your divorce being final?” Her glossy pink lips curve into a cunning grin. “You know what they say. Save a horse, ride a cowboy. ”
“I don’t have any horses that need saving.”
“Promise me you’ll at least think about it,” Quinn says as we stop at Finn River’s one and only traffic light.
I give her a noncommittal shrug. It’s easier than explaining the complicated reasons why I’m not in the market for a one-night stand.
Or anything that so much as whispers to my fragile heart that it’s safe to come out of hiding.
I loved Russel in the way I’ve always loved my people—big and with my whole heart.
That he’d torn it to shreds with his secrets and lies. ..
Reckoning with the fallout is going to take time. Until then, my vibrator and I have a wonderful partnership. She’s dependable, generous, and never guilt trips me for treating myself to a margarita and a hot bath instead.
When I turn into my lakeside neighborhood, Quinn shifts in her seat, one eyebrow arching beneath her shades. “Okay, this is cute.”
“You think I’d bring you to some backwoods slum?”
She laughs. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
When I turn onto my street to see the two-tone F-150 parked in my neighbor’s driveway, I can’t help the groan rumbling up my throat.
Quinn cocks her head. “What?”
“Nothing, just…” I was hoping he would be on shift today. “He’s home.”
“Who?”
“My neighbor.”
She lifts her shades to peer at me. “The firefighter? The one you can’t stand?”
“Yep.” I turn down my driveway, which parallels Linden’s, separated by a narrow hedge.
The row of A-frames used to be summer cabins for the wealthy ranch families who founded Finn River.
There are six in all, each within steps of Bear Lake.
Apparently, the pitched roof is better for withstanding the Bitterroots’ heavy snowfall, a fact that must be true because I hardly shoveled any snow this winter.
I love snow, but shoveling it, especially after trips when I have to fly with Russel, sucks.
“I hope you brought earplugs.” I park in front of my house and glance past Quinn to where my neighbor’s side deck reno is underway.
He’s thankfully not outside, so he’s either taking a break, or maybe his daughter, Greta is with him.
How someone so irritating and grouchy could make such a spunky and delightful kid is totally beyond me.
We grab our black suitcases from my trunk and wheel them across the bumpy gravel to my porch.
“It’s adorable,” Quinn says while taking in my tidy entryway with the potted pansies and dainty ferns and the bamboo wind chime thunking softly above us.
She glances down the right side of my house, along the narrow strip of deck that connects to the bigger one at the back, to the lake.
With the sun gleaming off the calm water and the pretty spruce and cottonwoods shifting in the soft summer breeze, my place looks like a slice of heaven.
If only my neighbor would stop being so annoying, it would be perfect.
“Just wait until the sunset.” I unlock the door and we step inside the narrow entryway.
Quinn gasps. “Oh wow.” She gazes up, taking in the warm wood beams and the light pouring in from the giant windows at the front of the house.
A flash of gray fur zips from the kitchen, and I reach down to scoop him up. “Hey, sweet boy,” I coo, and nuzzle his face. He smells of earth and peanuts and his fur is warm, like he’s been napping in his sunny spot in the living room.
“Missed me, huh?” I ask him as he purrs loudly.
“Hey, you little stud,” Quinn says, giving my cat a scratch behind the ears. “Long time no see. ”
I set Kodiak on his feet and kick off my work pumps. “Your room is there,” I say, pointing at the guest room to the left, across from the bathroom.
Quinn pulls her suitcase into the space. “Oh my stars, this is simply lovely.” She tugs her neckerchief loose, her eyes bright. “Show me the rest, then let’s go jump in that lake.”
I float on my back, gazing up at the pale, blue sky deepening one hue at a time.
Next to me, Quinn rises to the surface, her dark brown hair slicked off her forehead. “So where is this mystery man?”
“Don’t jinx it,” I warn.
“Is he at least hot?”
My chilled skin tightens everywhere at once. “Kind of hard to get past his scowl, so how would I know?”
“Hmm.”
“His kid is cute,” I say to move the conversation along. “Well…’cute’ isn’t probably the right word since she’s almost sixteen.”
“She seems to have taken good care of Kody,” Quinn says, pursing her lips.
“She’s super responsible,” I say. “Sort of impressive, actually.”
“Hmm,” Quinn says again. “Has he retaliated since you filled his yard with those plastic flamingos?”
“He put my address on Craig’s List with an offer for free sausages. I had so many people knocking on my door I barricaded my driveway and put up a giant sign.”
Quinn laughs, then presses her lips together. “Sorry. Why does he need to play basketball at eleven o’clock at night anyways?”
“Exactly! ”
“You said he’s older. Is he sensitive about his age? You should mail order Viagra samples to him.”
“I don’t think he’s sensitive to anything. The guy is unflappable.” Viagra might be worth a try though.
“Don’t give up.”
We talk about our night ahead and rest of her visit.
Quinn and I met in flight attendant training and were lucky enough to work a lot of the same routes afterwards, bonding us like sisters.
We both put in several years servicing the small towns of the intermountain west, moving up to bigger routes like Alaska and Mexico.
She’s always down for an adventure and is rock solid in a crisis, whether it’s turbulence, a pervy passenger who thinks all flight attendants want to join the mile high club, or a broken heart.
“We have time for a margarita before the show, right?” Quinn asks.
“Or two,” I say with a giggle.
We swim to the shore and wade through the sandy shallows. The air carries that alpine bite I love, even as it turns my skin to gooseflesh.
“Brr,” Quinn says, wrapping her arms around her chest. “Is it always this cold?”
“You get used to it.” I reach for my towel just as the back door of my neighbor’s house opens and a tall, broad-shouldered man in a faded charcoal-gray tee and worn work jeans steps out, his baseball hat turned backwards.
He must hear us, because his jaw tenses and the second his gaze finds mine, he narrows his eyes.
Quinn makes a mild choking sound that I hope to god he can’t hear.
“Hey there!” Quinn calls.
“What are you doing?” I grit out while wrapping my towel around me.
“Just being friendly,” she says under her breath while smiling at my neighbor. She loops her arm through mine and leads me toward the stairway leading to my neighbor’s deck.
“Q,” I warn.
“Let’s just say hi. So I can picture this guy when you call me to complain.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh. Once Quinn gets rolling with an idea, she’s like a runaway train.
“I’m Quinn,” Quinn says at the top of the stairs. She extends her hand, then realizes it’s wet, and rubs it against her towel, then tries again. “Meg’s friend. I’m visiting for a few days.”
My neighbor gives Quinn’s hand a wary glance, then gives it a quick pump. The motion reveals the bottom edge of the tattoos on his bicep. “Linden.”
Quinn’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. “Like the president?”
Linden’s face stays completely unchanged, like we’re boring him. “No.”
I look away from his t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. “THAT’S” is printed above a faded bunch of giant yellow bananas.
He has a whole collection like it with funny or mildly outrageous sayings.
It hints that the wearer actually has a sense of humor, which I know to be false. Maybe Greta buys them for him.
My gaze lands on his muscular forearm, the dark hairs dusted with pale sawdust.
“You do all your own carpentry, huh?” Quinn asks, scanning the in-progress side deck project and behind him, to the house, then up to the steeply pitched A-joint at the top.
“I do it better than any carpenter.” His dark eyes take on an edge of mischief, like he’s daring me to object.
I could, but I don’t. Instead, I cross my arms.
“Well, you’re getting my deck wet.” He gives a quick glance to where a puddle of lake water has gathered around my feet, then back up to my eyes. “So unless there’s something I can do for you.... ”
He arches a silky dark brow.
With a huff, I spin on my heel.
“Nice to meet you!” Quinn calls over her shoulder while scrambling after me.
We’re barely inside my house when Quinn’s mouth drops open and her eyes go wild. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She points in the direction of my neighbor. “Why are you not getting some of that?”
I roll my eyes. “Some of what?”
Quinn shakes her head. “He’s hotter than sin, and you said he’s single.”
“He has the personality of a jackass.”
“So? We’re talking about rebound sex here.”
“Ew, no.” I shake my head. “Definitely not with him .” A jolt of electricity races down my thighs. “Plus he’s like forty.”