12. Jenny
Chapter 12
Jenny
Did Trent almost kiss me? Why did I want him to so badly? My heart hammers as I grab my keys and phone then follow Trent out the door into the cool evening air. The scent of pine and earth fills my lungs, and I try to keep my thoughts from spiraling.
“I don’t think I know where your house is,” I say, quickening my steps to catch up to him.
“Not too far. I walk to work, but when I had it built, I set it a little out of the way so people wouldn’t come knocking on my door anytime they had a question.” His voice is light as he leads the way back toward the marina lodge. The fading light casts long shadows, giving the quiet marina an almost ethereal glow.
“You built it? I thought your parents lived there before and just moved away.”
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “They wanted a little more work-life separation and built a house on the other side of the lake. They’d just drive the boat into work each morning.”
“That’s cool,” I reply. The quiet companionship between us feels natural as we walk past the docks, the marina shop, and the gazebo. The occasional chirp of crickets fills the silence, the lake’s water gently lapping in the distance. When we reach a path veiled with a dense tree line, Trent motions to it with a nod.
“I’ve never noticed this path before,” I say, peering into the woods. “How’d you keep it so hidden?”
“I didn’t even out the entrance where it meets the woods, but as soon as you pass the tree line, the path is clear. It’s not the only way in, though. There’s a driveway that leads to the main road, but it’s long, and I mostly use it for deliveries.”
“So that’s why you keep your truck at the marina,” I say.
“Yeah, pretty much,” he says with a chuckle, stepping out of the way for me to see. “Here it is now.”
The path opens to a clearing, and my breath catches at the sight of his home. A covered wraparound porch surrounds an adorable two-story log cabin. The golden light spilling from the windows makes the wood glow. To the right, the faint outline of the lake glimmers in the last vestiges of sunlight. The scene is idyllic, straight out of a postcard.
“Come on,” he says, motioning me forward. “I’ll give you the tour.” I follow him to the porch. The wood creaks faintly underfoot, and I catch a hint of cedar mixed with the earthy scent of the woods.
Inside, I’m floored by the beauty of the space. The downstairs is open-concept, with a massive living room flowing seamlessly into a chef’s dream kitchen and a cozy dining area. The downstairs is simply designed. It’s definitely got a rustic feel. I make my way around the space, taking in everything. Large windows line the walls, and I’m drawn to one immediately. Outside, the moon’s reflection dances on the water, casting silvery light across the lake.
“Of course, your house would overlook the lake,” I say, shaking my head with a smile. Glancing down, I spot a fire pit and a dock just visible in the moonlight. Adirondack chairs complete the picturesque scene.
“It’s a gorgeous setup,” I add.
“Thanks,” Trent says, standing a little straighter. He tugs his hat off and runs a hand through his hair, the gesture endearing. “The porch wraps around the whole house. You’ll notice exterior doors on three of the walls.”
“I bet it’s breathtaking in the mornings,” I say. “You have a really nice place.”
“Uh, thanks,” he replies, his ears turning pink. “It’s, uh, soon to be yours too. Do whatever you like with the place.”
Right. “How about you show me the bedrooms?” I suggest. “Or, I guess, the upstairs?”
“Sure, follow me.” As we ascend the staircase, my fingers trail along the smooth, polished wood of the handrail. It’s clear he’s poured his heart into every detail of this house.
At the top of the stairs, Trent gestures to the open space. “This is the loft. It overlooks the living room.” I turn and see the sweeping view below, the glow from the kitchen casting soft light across the rustic space.
“To the left is my room,” Trent says, “but we don’t need to head that way. At the back is an all-purpose room. Kind of an office-slash-catch-all space. I haven’t done much with it yet. We just finished building the place last spring.”
“That’s pretty recent,” I say, following him to the back room. When I step inside, my breath catches. The wall-to-floor windows frame the lake, now bathed in moonlight. The scene is stunning—peaceful yet alive with subtle movement.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, imagining lazy mornings curled up with a book in this very spot.
“Thank you,” Trent replies, shrugging. “I kind of like the lake.”
His understatement makes me laugh. “Yeah, that wasn’t hard to figure out, even before seeing your house.”
“Ready for the rest of the tour?” he asks, his blue eyes glinting with amusement.
“Absolutely. This place has three bedrooms?”
“Yeah,” he says. “The master bedroom and two guest rooms. You can pick between the two. The smaller one overlooks the lake, and the other faces the woods. The bathroom is in the middle, but it’s all yours. Sorry, the rooms don’t have their own bathroom.”
“Trent, that’s more than fine,” I assure him. I step into each room. Both have stunning views.
“So, which room would you prefer to sleep in?” Trent says, then quickly adds. “By yourself, I mean. And not that kind of sleeping.” His face turns red.
I laugh. “I know what you mean. I liked the forest view. I’ll take that one,” I say, picturing snow-covered trees in winter or catching sight of an owl at night.
“Good choice,” Trent says with a small smile, his gaze distant. He clears his throat. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to throw this shirt in the wash and grab a clean one.”
“Alright,” I reply. After he leaves, I enter the soon-to-be-my room and take a moment to flop onto the bed with a sigh. In three weeks, this kind, sweet man will be my husband. How did my life change so quickly? So much has changed from that first morning we met. I feel like I blinked and now I have a job and am engaged and Grandpa Henry is going to be taken care of.
“So, what do you think?” Trent asks, stepping into the doorway while working on buttoning a clean shirt. My thoughts scatter at the sight of him—his shirt is open, revealing a sculpted chest. I stand and take a step toward him.
“I like you,” I blurt, then immediately backtrack. “I mean, I like it. The room. The house. The whole package is great.” I drop back onto the bed, groaning inwardly. Why can’t the ground swallow me whole?
“I’m glad you like the room. And the house. And . . . I like you too,” he says softly.
My heart stutters. “You do?” I ask, half-propped up on my elbows.
“Yeah. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer person to go through a mutually beneficial marriage with,” he replies, his sincerity making my chest ache.
Right. He likes me as a person. Of course.
“You missed a button,” I say, rolling off the bed and stepping close to him. I point to his chest. “Here, let me help. It’s my fault you had to change anyway.” My fingers work quickly, brushing against his skin. When I feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, I freeze.
I glance up, and our eyes lock. The intensity in his gaze sends a jolt through me. His eyes flicker to my lips, a silent question hanging between us.
Screw it, I’m going to marry the guy in three weeks anyway.
I lean in, closing the distance. His lips are soft and still for a moment, and I’m about to pull back in panic when he relaxes, one hand cupping my cheek as the other slides to the small of my back.
His kiss deepens, his touch anchoring me as my arms circle his neck. The warmth of his body, the strength in his hold—it’s intoxicating. I press closer, savoring the way he feels against me. For now, in this moment, he’s mine.
His lips are soft and delicious against mine. I didn’t know how he would react, but he’s reacting like he wanted this too, maybe as much as I did. I don’t know if it’s the charged energy between us with the upcoming wedding or what, but I am all for it. I can feel the muscles under his shirt, and it sends a thrill through me.
This sexy specimen of a man is going to be my husband soon, and I get to kiss him. I am kissing him. I don’t know what our relationship will look like when we are married because it’s only supposed to be for a short while. But for now, in this moment, he’s mine.
When he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, I’m breathless. “Jenny,” he says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”
“I kissed you, remember?” I say, my voice softer than I expected. Stepping back, I tilt my head up to meet Trent’s eyes, those beautiful, warm eyes that flicker in the dim light of the room with every shade of blue. “And I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”
His lips twitch into a smile, equal parts mischief and tenderness. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so,” I reply, my own lips curving up despite the racing of my heart.
“Well,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a deep, velvety tone that sends a shiver up my spine. “Then I guess it would be okay if I did this . . .”
Before I can process his words, he closes the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine with a fervor that ignites every nerve in my body. This kiss is nothing like the tentative one we shared just moments ago—it’s deeper, more deliberate, and brimming with unspoken emotion. The sheer intensity of it makes my knees buckle, but Trent’s arms wrap firmly around my waist, holding me steady.
I grip his shoulders, clinging to him as if he’s the only solid thing in the universe. His warmth radiates through his shirt, and I can feel the strength in his arms as they pull me closer. It’s like he’s tethering me to him, and I have no intention of letting go.
The kiss consumes me, drowning out everything else. The faint creak of the floorboards, the chirp of crickets outside, the cool night air seeping through the windows—it all fades until there’s nothing but Trent. His lips move against mine with an urgency that sets my pulse racing, and I can’t help but melt into him.
This kiss isn’t just passion; it’s a question, a promise, a fire that burns through every doubt I’ve ever had. If I could only have this moment, I’d pour everything into it. I wonder if he feels the same, if he’s silently carving out a space for me in his heart the way I am for him.
Time seems to blur, and I lose myself in the taste and feel of him. His scent surrounds me—a mix of cedar, lake water, and something uniquely Trent that I know I’ll never forget. His hand moves to the small of my back again, pressing me flush against him, while the other tangles in my hair, sending sparks shooting down my spine.
Eventually, Trent pulls back just enough to trail kisses along my cheek, his stubble brushing against my skin. His lips find my neck, and my breath catches as he lingers there, pressing a kiss just below my collarbone. The sensation is electric, and a soft gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it.
If my knees were weak before, now they’re jelly. A warm, tingling heat spreads through me, and I grip his shoulders tighter, leaning into him for support.
“I think . . .” I manage to stammer between breaths, my voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’m going to like this marriage. A lot.”
Trent chuckles against my skin, the sound low and rumbling, vibrating through me. “Mmm,” he replies, his lips curving into a smile against my neck. “I think I am too.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes searching mine, filled with something I can’t quite name—something raw and real that leaves me breathless. His thumb grazes my cheek, and I lean into his touch, my heart pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. We just stand there, caught in this fragile, perfect bubble, our breaths mingling in the space between us.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel completely and utterly seen.