Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
JOE
Friday, Day One of the Summer Swap
Joe dragged a hand over his face and tried to shake off the memory of last night as his car rolled into the nature reserve lot. Early morning twilight draped Maple Falls in soft purples and gold. The stars were still scattered overhead, but beginning to give way to the rising sun.
Today was officially day one of the swap, and Joe had barely slept. If they hadn’t previously agreed to meet at sunrise for an early morning photography shoot and meditation session, he might’ve stayed in bed. Not that he’d get any rest.
Every time he closed his eyes, Krista was there—pressed against him at the firepit, her mouth on his, his fingers sliding beneath her shorts. He’d replayed that moment over and over until the sun began hinting at the horizon, memories twisting into a longer fantasy.
If they hadn’t been interrupted…
She would’ve kept kissing him. It would’ve been soft at first, then hungry, her hips rocking into his hand.
He would’ve pushed her shorts aside, slipping his fingers deeper, feeling her warmth, the way she tightened around him when she got close.
He could practically hear the breathy and desperate sounds she would’ve made.
He would’ve stroked her until she shattered against him, her whole body trembling as she came apart.
And afterward? He would’ve laid her out beneath him, and pushed into her slow and deep. He would’ve held her hips, kissed her throat, and thrust into her until she clenched around him all over again, moaning his name like a prayer.
Instead…Kit. Kit and her “I’m blind! Totally blind!” routine.
He spotted Krista before she noticed him.
She stood near the trailhead, hugging a travel mug to her chest, her breath forming little clouds in the cool morning air.
A soft cream sweater was half tucked into high-waisted leggings that hugged her hips and thighs and made his pulse trip.
Her hair was loosely braided, a few strands escaping around her face.
She looked sun-kissed, gorgeous—and completely unaware of how badly he still wanted her right now.
She waved when she saw him. “Morning! You ready?”
He was. Just not in the way she meant.
“Yeah,” he managed, grabbing his gear. “Trail’s supposed to open into a clearing with a perfect view of the lake. Should have a few moments to catch the sunrise before it hits.”
“This swap of ours is allowing me to see more of Maple Falls than I ever thought to look for,” Joe added as they walked.
“Honestly, I sometimes forget how beautiful it is. It’s been a good lesson, slowing down, seeing it all through your eyes.”
“Ah, so are you saying I’m a good teacher?”
“You’re good at a lot of things,” Krista replied with a wink.
They continued to talk easily about his travels, vacations she’d someday like to take, before shifting into an easy silence.
The surrounding woods fell quiet with soft birdsong and damp earth beneath their boots.
There were five minutes left in the hike, tops, but long enough for him to replay fragments of her laugh, her gasp, the way she’d moved against him.
Krista looked over her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
Totally not fine. Because this wasn’t like the other times.
With other women, desire had been easy and uncomplicated.
A good night, a warm body, a clean exit before his feelings, or hers, could ask more of him than he had to give.
Even the relationships that had lasted longer had felt…
manageable. Predictable in the way you could see the ending from the beginning.
Krista was none of that. He’d only met her on Tuesday.
But already it felt like they knew each other so well.
Like there was a “Before Krista” and an “After Krista” in his life.
She made him crave things he’d trained himself not to want: routine, roots, the idea of showing up tomorrow and the day after that.
And the worst part was how little control he had over it.
The trail opened, revealing a small bluff overlooking the lake. Mist hovered over the water. The sky was still a tender violet, the first threads of peach unfurling across the horizon. Joe exhaled, letting the calm settle around them.
“This is perfect,” she whispered.
He set down his bag. “Alright,” he said. “Before we shoot the sunrise, we meditate.”
Krista turned, blinking. “Wait—you were serious about that?”
“Of course.”
She groaned. “Joe. I haven’t meditated since that one app I downloaded and never opened. I don’t sit still.”
“You do today.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I came here to learn photography, not reach inner peace.”
He just smiled and dropped onto a flat patch of moss near the bluff’s edge, crossing his legs. “Come on. Five minutes. It’ll change your whole day.”
Krista muttered something about type-A personalities being incompatible with sitting still, but she dropped down beside him anyway.
He closed his eyes. “Just breathe. Feel your body. Let your thoughts come and go—no pressure to quiet anything. Just notice.”
She made it about three seconds before cracking one eye open.
He didn’t move. Just smiled slightly. “You’re not being graded. Try again.”
She huffed but obeyed. They sat like that, side by side. Birdsong filtered through the canopy. Wind rustled the leaves and the air smelled of wildflowers, pine, and earth.
He peeked once more. Her lips were parted. Her brow smooth. She looked peaceful even if she didn’t know it. This was what she didn’t let herself have—stillness.
When they finally opened their eyes, the sky was turning a softer purple. Soon rose and gold would be swirling in the clouds, painting the lake. Krista blinked and glanced over at him.
“That wasn’t as awful as I expected.”
He smirked. “High praise.”
She stood, brushing grass off her leggings. “Okay, Zen master. Now will you show me how to photograph the sunrise?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He smirked, moving quickly to set up his gear. “Okay, first lesson: Light moves fast at sunrise. You want to get your exposure set before the color shifts.”
Krista nodded, biting her lip as she adjusted a lens cap.
Sunlight caught the edge of her braid. Her cheeks were pink from the cold.
She was beautiful—soft, bright, alive. And all he could think, as the first gold touched the water, was how close he’d been last night.
How close she’d been. How much he still wanted her .
Krista glanced up at him, eyes shimmering with reflected dawn. “What?” she asked softly.
Joe swallowed. “Nothing,” he lied.
Krista stood beside him, camera now steady in her grip, eyes on the horizon. The first blush of sun slipped over the tree line, gold touching her cheek.
She smiled. “This is kinda magical.”
He didn’t answer right away. Because yeah—it was. But it wasn’t the sunrise that had him feeling off-center. It was her. And the knowledge that by tonight, she’d be sleeping in his bed, and he’d be sleeping in hers.
Krista turned, her gaze catching his. “So,” she said slowly. “Today’s the start.”
He nodded, letting the weight of that settle between them. “Yeah.”
“You’ll be taking over the Hideaway, and I’ll be…attempting to be a travel writer and photographer, living in a tent.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, and meant it.
She tucked her camera strap over her shoulder, stepping closer. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“What part?”
“That we’re switching lives. Homes. You’ll be using my shampoo.”
That made him grin. “Figured I’d start with your most expensive body wash.”
Krista laughed as she raised the camera, but her elbow jutted awkwardly, tilting the shot.
Joe stepped behind her. “Here,” he said, voice low. “Let me show you.”
He didn’t touch her right away—just hovered. Then, slowly, his hands came to rest on her arms. His fingers adjusted her grip, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist.
“Keep your elbows tucked. Let the weight of the camera settle into your palm.”
She nodded, her body noticeably still now, except for her breath. He could feel it. Shallow. Hitched. She didn’t lean away.
He dipped his head, speaking near her ear. “Now breathe in…steady. And press the shutter as you exhale.”
The click was soft. The sunrise framed the lake like a painting, mist rising off the water like smoke from a candle.
She lowered the camera but didn’t step out of his space. “You know,” she said quietly, not turning. “If we hadn’t been interrupted last night…”
Joe swallowed. “Yeah?”
Her voice dropped an octave, playful now. “You’d still be thinking about it, put it that way.”
He let out a low laugh, the sound rough with want. “That so?”
Krista finally turned, her braid brushing his chest. Her eyes sparkled, dawn catching the amber in them.
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “But now you’ll just have to imagine it.”
And then she walked past him, slow and smug, like she hadn’t just set his entire body on fire. He watched her go, the light catching the curve of her hips, the sway of those leggings, the casual power of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
Yeah.
He’d be imagining it all day. And soon, he’d make it real. No more almost. No more maybe. Just Krista, warm and real, and in his arms.