Chapter 26
Aubree
I can barely sleep at all. Between the fear and anger swirling in my head—someone broke into my shop, the shop I poured my entire heart into—and the guilt that I can’t do anything but hide away, my mind won’t shut down long enough to rest. Boone holds me while I toss and turn, and eventually, I drift into a fitful doze on his chest, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Morning arrives all too soon. A slice of sunlight slips through the curtains, and I open my eyes with a dull ache in my temples.
I blink, momentarily disoriented by the rustic cabin walls before remembering exactly where I am and why.
Then it all crashes back: the break-in at Slice Slice Baby, the possibility that it’s connected to whoever’s threatening me, and the helpless feeling gnawing at my stomach.
Boone’s already awake. I can tell by the way he shifts his arm, careful not to jostle me. My cheek’s pressed to his shoulder, and for a moment, I pretend like I’m still asleep, soaking up the comfort of having him near. But the weight in my chest is too heavy to ignore for long.
“Morning,” Boone says softly, his voice a gentle rumble.
I manage a weak smile, pushing myself upright. “Morning,” I reply, brushing hair away from my face. I look at him, and for a second, I see the concern etched in his features, that same guarded look he gets whenever he’s about to tell me I can’t do something.
It’s enough to snap my fragile calm. I swing my legs off the bed and stand, arms crossed, suddenly restless. “I hate this,” I mutter, pacing the small bedroom. “Just… waiting. Doing nothing while my shop gets trashed or robbed, or who knows what.”
Boone rises to a seated position, the mattress creaking beneath his weight. “I know,” he says gently, raking a hand through his short hair. “I hate it too.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “Then what are we doing here? Why can’t we just go back, talk to the cops, figure it out ourselves?”
“Because it’s too big a risk,” he reminds me, his tone patient. “Until we know who’s behind this, charging back in could expose you. Expose us.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it again, biting back the frustration. He’s right. Deep down, I know he is. If I just waltzed back into town, I could be walking into a trap. But that logic doesn’t make me feel any less powerless.
He stands, crosses the small distance, and places his hands on my shoulders. “I know you’re angry,” he says quietly. “I’m angry too. But let Dean and his team do their jobs.”
My anger softens at the concern in his eyes, and I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I just… it’s my life, you know? Everything I’ve worked for feels like it’s going up in flames.”
He nods, thumbs gently stroking the tops of my arms. “We’ll salvage it,” he promises. “But for now, come on.” He tilts his head toward the open door. “Let’s do something to keep our minds busy today. I can’t stand seeing you so torn up.”
I can’t help it; a tiny grin tugs at my lips. “Okay,” I say, exhaling. “What do you have in mind?”
About an hour later, we’re standing on the edge of the lake, the morning sun sparkling across the water’s surface.
The cabin is tucked just behind a line of tall pines, the gentle breeze rustling their branches.
Boone and I walk down a short dirt path that leads to a little sandy area—a makeshift shoreline, I guess.
My feet sink into the soft ground, a welcome change from the rough, anxiety-laden floor of the cabin.
“You ever swim this early?” Boone asks, stripping off his T-shirt. I glance over and catch a glimpse of his muscled torso, the defined lines of his shoulders, and my cheeks warm. Even after everything we’ve shared—kisses, confessions—his body still makes my stomach flutter.
“Not usually,” I say, clearing my throat and averting my gaze in a playful attempt at nonchalance.
“But I guess there’s a first time for everything.
” With a shrug, I peel off my own T-shirt to reveal a bikini top I found buried in the cabin’s random storage closet. It’s not the best fit, but it’ll do.
Boone’s gaze flicks to me, and I catch the slight hitch in his breath before he tears his eyes away, focusing instead on the water. “Yeah,” he manages, “there is.”
I wade in first, the chilly lake water lapping at my ankles. A shiver ripples up my spine, but it’s refreshing compared to the sweltering swirl of my thoughts. Boone steps in next to me, and we inch forward until the water’s around our waists.
He whistles softly. “That’s cold.”
I can’t help but grin. “Big tough ex-military man can’t handle a little cold?”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Watch it, or I’ll dunk you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” My tone is mock-serious, but there’s a spark of challenge in my eyes.
“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow. Suddenly, his hands grasp my waist, and before I can protest, he lifts me up and gently throws me into the deeper water. I shriek as I go under, the icy shock stealing my breath.
When I resurface, spluttering, I find him grinning like a mischievous kid. “You jerk!” I exclaim, wiping droplets from my face.
He swims closer, a contrite smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But you dared me.”
“You are so going to pay for that.” I lunge, hooking an arm around his neck, and we both sink into the water, laughing as we splash around.
The buoyancy and cold shock wash away the tension that’s been clinging to me like a second skin.
For a few blissful moments, it’s just us—a couple of people playing in a lake, with no threats or break-ins or bad guys to worry about.
Eventually, we settle into a rhythm of gentle swimming, drifting away from the shore. The lake isn’t huge, but it’s big enough that we can’t see the far side clearly. Tall pines ring the perimeter, and I realize it’s kind of beautiful out here—like our own secluded paradise.
I’m treading water next to Boone, watching him tilt his head back to let the sun warm his face.
There’s a bead of water trailing down his cheek, and I have the sudden urge to lean in and kiss it away.
So I do. I slip closer, cupping the side of his face, pressing my lips to that spot just above his jaw.
He stills, eyes opening, and the intensity in his gaze makes my heart flip.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice low and husky.
“Hi,” I echo, feeling heat rush through me despite the cold water.
He skims a hand across my waist, pulling me closer until I can feel the steady thump of his heart against my chest. “You’re freezing,” he comments, though his fingertips are warm against my skin.
“So warm me up.” My challenge comes out breathy, half daring him, half pleading.
His laugh is soft as he dips his head and captures my mouth in a gentle kiss. My eyes drift shut, and I melt into him. The water cradles us, and for a moment, it feels like there’s nothing else in the world but his mouth on mine, his arms wrapped around me.
He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue past my parted lips, and I answer with a small moan. It’s a slow, unhurried dance, our bodies buoyed by the lake’s gentle current. Eventually, we break apart to catch our breath, forehead to forehead, breath mingling in the space between us.
“I could get used to this,” he admits softly, running his hands up and down my sides.
My chest tightens with a familiar mix of hope and fear. I want to believe that once this is over, we’ll find a way to keep this closeness, this odd paradise we’ve built in hiding. But a part of me can’t quite trust it. Not yet.
“Me too,” I whisper, my lips ghosting over his cheek. “But for now, I’ll settle for a fun day in the water.”
“Deal,” he says, a grin tugging at his mouth.
We spend the next few hours like kids on summer break—splashing, racing each other across the lake, diving for rocks on the lakebed (Boone wins that little competition, no surprise there).
I even manage to climb onto his back and demand a piggyback ride through the shallow part, laughing so hard I nearly choke on the water.
We pause occasionally, drifting, letting the sun dry our arms and shoulders while the rest of us stays submerged.
Boone cracks jokes about how this is probably the first time he’s gotten to have fun in a body of water that wasn’t crawling with potential threats or camouflage gear.
I tease him that if he’s so used to dangerous waters, maybe I should stage a surprise attack, and he narrows his eyes at me like he’s considering the possibility.
It’s the most carefree I’ve felt in weeks. The tension in my neck and shoulders unwinds, replaced by a soft glow that I can only describe as peace—at least for a little while. My troubles aren’t gone, but they’re overshadowed by the simple pleasure of sunshine and Boone’s warm presence beside me.
Eventually, my stomach growls, and Boone laughs, patting his own abdomen. “We need food,” he declares, water droplets glistening on his chest. “I feel like I could eat a whole pizza.”
I grin. “Pizza, huh? You’re talking to the right girl, but I don’t think we have the supplies for a second pizza extravaganza. How about a couple of sandwiches back at the cabin?”
He pretends to think, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, you are the pizza guru, but I guess sandwiches will do… for now.”
We wade back to shore, my limbs heavy from the exertion of swimming. The midday sun beats down, drying our skin as we trudge up the short path to the cabin. Boone grabs two towels from the porch, handing one to me. I wrap it around my shoulders, grateful for the warmth.
Inside, we rummage through the fridge, pulling out cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and whatever condiments we can find. The cabin’s still quiet, the faint hum of the wind in the trees seeping through the windows.
Boone sets the bread on the counter. “So, I’m thinking a triple-decker.”
I roll my eyes. “You and your enormous appetite. Go for it. I’ll have a normal, two-slice sandwich, thanks.”