Chapter 26 #2
I was extra sensitive after Tuesday’s confrontation—I didn’t want anything to go wrong. I snuck back into the passenger chair before he backed out, trying to preserve my hair and my drink.
I could hear the untuned guitar and the singer’s twangy voice from across the lake.
Boats pulled up alongside us as we cruised toward a whitewashed building with dozens of boats parked in front of it.
Large letters raised with two-by-fours spelled out Paddle Point.
The sign was big enough that I could easily read it outside the no-wake zone around it.
As soon as we passed the orange-and-white buoys, Bower killed the engine and the boat puttered toward the bar, the other boats floating along with us.
A few people from other boats waved hello to him.
I wasn’t sure if it was just lake etiquette or if they actually knew him.
Probably the latter. The lake was small, and Bower seemed to have merged right back into the lake community in the couple months since he’d been back.
Paddle Point had a large docking system that packed the boats in. If Agate Harbors had something like that, they could really be pulling in the dough. Bower could find better musicians too. The off-tune music was already making my ears ring.
I helped Bower dock the boat. A bowline knot was something I still remembered from all those years ago. I tied the bow of the boat to the dock, and Bower tied up the stern, both of us working in tandem, like we’d done this for years. Technically we had, just many years ago.
I hopped onto the dock as soon as my knot was tied and waited for Bower to finish up.
He popped a couple of fenders along each side of the boat to protect it from getting hit by the dock or other boats.
This dock was a lot more solid, made from metal.
It creaked under my rubber boots, but at least the boards didn’t bow under my weight, threatening to give out.
Bower hopped out of the boat, the dock wiggling back and forth. “He’s got to be here,” he said. “It’s a big place. We should stick together.”
I looked up at the bar that was slightly uphill from the docks. There were two sets of stairs before you got to the deck of the bar that overlooked the lake. Bower walked past me and made his way toward the stairs. I followed, watching my footing as the dock shook after every one of his foot falls.
The band got louder as we got closer to the bar.
The stair treads were abnormally short, and my calves were burning.
Once my feet hit the top, I breathed a sigh of relief.
The deck at the top was massive, with people milling about along high-top tables with beer-branded umbrellas.
The view from up here was amazing. I understood why it was such a popular bar.
People would flock here for the view even if the music was mediocre.
You could almost see to the other side of the lake from up here. The sunsets had to be amazing.
Bower weaved through tables, patting people on the back and shaking hands.
Every time he stopped at a table, I scurried to catch up to him.
I didn’t know if he actually wanted to talk to these people or if he was going slow, waiting for me to navigate the crowds that so easily moved aside for him.
He was like a bull, the crowd parting for him.
I was a mouse, squeaking through cracks and holes, trying to find my way.
I caught up with him right as he had finished talking to an older couple sitting at a high-top table. Both were tan, obviously enjoying the lake life.
“Who’s this?” the woman asked. Her eyes sparkled as she took in Bower and me standing next to each other.
“This is Mia.” Bower grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, introducing me. I waved at them awkwardly with my free hand, while his grasp on my other hand stayed tight.
“So nice to meet you, Mia.” The woman looked at the man sitting next to her before back at us. The two exchanged a knowing look. “Bower’s been such a blessing for Betty and Gill. It sure is nice that he gets a break once in a while.”
She looked down at our clasped hands, still together. I let my hand fall limp, signaling Bower that it was okay to let go, but he held fast, doubling down on his grip.
“We keep trying to get Bower to come work for us, even part-time.” The man grabbed onto the woman’s hand. They must’ve been a couple. “We want to retire within the next decade at least.” They both laughed.
“I’ve got my own resort to run,” Bower said. He was smiling when he spoke. This wasn’t the first time he had this conversation.
“Here are your drinks, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson.” A red-haired server set down two margaritas in front of the couple. They looked delicious, like they had been made with fresh juice and good tequila.
“Do you want one, Mia?” Mrs. Peterson asked. I pursed my mouth, ready to say no, but it was like she read my mind. “Sarah, bring another margarita, please.” She tilted her head in my direction. “On the rocks?” I nodded. “And a glass of water for Bower.”
Sarah left to fulfill the drink order. Bower pulled out his wallet and laid a twenty on the table to pay for the drink.
Mr. Peterson pushed the bill away. “What’s the point of owning a bar if you can’t buy your friends drinks?” He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but blush.
“I’ll get you next time at Agate,” Bower said.
Sarah brought my margarita and Bower’s water over in record time. Faster than any drink I’d ordered at Agate Harbors. No wonder the resort’s restaurant was struggling—they just couldn’t compete with the fast service and craft cocktails the other restaurants on the lake were offering.
“You didn’t want a margarita?” I asked Bower.
“Bower doesn’t drink,” Mr. Peterson said.
I looked at Bower, my head tilted to the side. He’d had his friend buy me a shot at Jo-Jo’s, he’d left the pina colada on the beach bar melting in the heat…
“Haven’t in nine years,” Bower said while he looked at me, a glass of ice water cradled in his palm.
I tried to do quick math in my head. That would put him at sixteen? Seventeen?
“Let us know if you need anything,” Mr. Peterson said. “I’ll keep an eye out for Gill.”
“Thanks,” Bower said before dragging me away.
We weaved through tables and people, many of whom knew Bower and greeted him with open arms. He always introduced me, pulling me forward, not letting go of my hand.
Most people hadn’t seen Gill, which wasn’t surprising due to how busy the bar was.
There were a few who’d seen him “about twenty minutes ago” they thought, give or take thirty minutes. So he really could be anywhere.
The entire time we circulated, my hands were occupied. One with a drink and the other enclosed in Bower’s hand. It took the pressure off meeting everyone, not having to be awkward with my hands or touching someone’s unfamiliar palms.
Part of me thought this was Bower’s doing, his way of accommodating me.
I didn’t want to be touching a bunch of sweaty people who spoke too loudly and too closely.
One of my hands was tucked into Bower’s dry hand and my other hand was around the cool glass of my drink.
I could give a friendly nod, and that was enough.
“Let’s go back outside,” Bower said. He pulled me by the hand outside the bar, the loud music leaving my ears, replaced by the live country singers.
Bower put his water on the drink rail and hopped up onto the seat of one of the wooden benches that looked out over the lake. Keeping my hand in his, he helped me up onto the wooden bench so I was standing next to him. From up here, we were high enough to see over everyone’s heads.
Still no Gill sightings.
I slurped my empty margarita obnoxiously, trying to suck up the last drops.
Bower turned to look at me. “Stop,” he said, his eyes going dark.
“What?” I tried to pull my hand free from his, but his grip was too tight.
“Stop sucking on that straw. It’s giving me too many ideas.”
I let the straw fall out of my mouth, and he grabbed the glass from my hand, bending down to place it on the ground beneath the bench. The entire bench wobbled as he moved.
“Shit—we probably shouldn’t be standing on this.” Bower let go of my hand, only to move his to my waist, lifting me down to the ground. His hand immediately returned to mine the moment my feet touched the deck.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the lake.
It was right behind us as we stood on the bench.
The sun was setting, the golden globe hovering halfway underneath the horizon.
It looked like it was bobbing in the lake, spreading its majestic colors in the sky.
Pinks, oranges, and yellows surrounded us.
The trees along the lake looked black in the looming darkness.
They were silhouettes framing in the sunset. Absolutely breathtaking.
Bower leaned his elbow along the drink rail, his other hand encapsulating mine. I didn’t try to remove it. It felt safe. I wouldn’t lose him as long as my hand was in his.
My shoulder brushed against his as I leaned on the railing, taking in the view. Why were the Petersons looking to retire? I could live on this deck until I died. Drinks and sunsets? Perfection.
Bower’s free hand wrapped around my shoulder. Like we were friends admiring the sunset. I’d do this with a girlfriend. It was very platonic.
The sun sank lower, and so did Bower’s arm.
His hand slid down my shoulder blades and bumped along my ribs before settling on the curve of my waist. I sank into his body.
Maybe I was pulled closer by Bower? It didn’t matter; it felt right.
The sides of our bodies were touching from our chests down to our toes.
I stood there, trying to admire the sight. It was beautiful, but all I could focus on was all the points Bower and my body were touching. The side of my body was aflame, feeling every movement of muscle beneath Bower’s skin and every breath he took.