2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
Benji
My wife is more beautiful than I remember.
Her mossy green eyes are flecked with gold in the sunlight, her lashes thick and dark.
The freckles dusting her sun-kissed skin are a shade darker now, and her curls—okay, those are a mess.
But they tickle my nose, and she smells exactly like I remember—like coconut and vanilla on sunbaked skin.
With a bit of bleach and bug spray? Pine? That’s new but good anyway because it’s her.
She might be too stunned to return my embrace, but she leans into me, her body fitting so perfectly against mine.
“Gina, who’s this?”
Gina shoves away and whirls as a woman with short silver hair approaches us.
This lady is giving protective mom vibes, but she’s not the right age to be Gina’s mom.
I thought Gina’s grandmother had passed away, but maybe I’m not remembering that right.
It doesn’t matter. I’m good with parents and even better with grandparents, so I give her my best boy-next-door smile and hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m—”
“My cousin,” Gina blurts.
“Cousin?” the older woman and I echo in unison.
Clay barks out a laugh. When I glare at him, he goes to help Briar with Trouble.
Gina’s freckles disappear under the onslaught of a deep blush. “Grandpa Bob’s sister Margaret’s daughter’s son.”
What the hell?
“So we’re not cousins.” Gina backpedals. “I guess…second cousins?” She looks at me, and there’s something so desperate in her eyes.
I don’t understand what’s happening, but I’ll play along.
“Right,” I say slowly, turning from Gina to smile at the older lady. “In some states, we could even be legally married.” Because we are legally married in the state of Nevada.
Gina’s laugh is unhinged. “This is Diana. She owns Happy Lake Lodge. And Cheryl.” A redhead standing a short distance away waves. “She works at the town grocery store and…” Gina’s voice trails off as the guy steps forward.
Holy shit. How did I not notice him before? He’s fucking huge and covered in tattoos. Hot as hell, too. His black T-shirt does nothing to hide that he is ripped and not in the way I am. He can probably lift a truck. He holds out a hand, but there’s nothing friendly in his eyes.
“Nice to meet a member of Gina’s extended family,” he says in a cold, rumbling voice. He’s giving over-protective older brother vibes, so I know what comes next—he tries to crush my hand.
It’s not great having the bones of my hand smooshed together, but I keep my expression neutral and let him do what he feels he needs to do. Dick-measuring contests are pointless. I always win when the pants come off—and if they don’t, I still know what I’ve got—so he can have this one.
“I’m Milo,” he adds, annoyed that I’m not wincing in pain. “Gina’s fiancé.”
Fiancé.
No. That can’t be right because she’s married to me.
I look to Gina for answers, but the color has left her face again.
My wife has some explaining to do, but not here with everyone watching. I turn back to the man who is still trying to crush my hand. “Benji,” I say, sizing him up again. “Gina’s second cousin.” I wasn’t going to crush his hand, but he’s still got mine in an iron grip, and now I’m going to crush it.
His expression flickers. That’s right, motherfucker. Muscles are still muscles, even if mine are from the gym and dancing.
Gina clears her throat, and her expressive green eyes must say something to him because the bear immediately drops my hand, giving her a sheepish look. When she turns to me, her composure is almost back.
Almost.
“So, uh.” She tucks a dark blonde curl behind her ear and avoids eye contact with me. “What are you doing here?”
Everyone is watching me except Briar, who is still trying to coax Trouble from a tree. Clay is smirking, enjoying every minute of this reunion gone sideways. Fucker.
“We were laid off,” I say. I can’t think of a good lie, and Gina probably won’t want me telling her boss and Cheryl from the grocery store that I’m a stripper, so I leave it at that. “We were hoping we could spend the summer here. With you.”
“How lovely.” Cheryl beams. “You’ll be here for the wedding in August.”
Gina looks away.
Her wedding. To the lumberjack. Did she not mean any of the things she said in Vegas? If she’s engaged, why the hell didn’t she try to contact me? She can’t marry him while she’s married to me.
This isn’t going how I hoped it would.
“You’re married?” Cheryl asks, pointing at the ring on my left hand.
I hold my hand up and look at the simple gold band.
I’m so used to it that it feels natural—a part of me.
“Yeah,” I say absently. Cheryl is looking over toward Briar and Clay, expecting one of them to be my spouse.
There’s no way I can pull off a fake relationship—Clay would never go along with it, and while Briar might, we don’t have chemistry. So I tell the truth. “My wife left me.”
Cheryl’s face pinches in sympathy, and her regret at asking is clear in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” I say, glancing at Gina. She’s staring at the ring on my hand, her face pale.
Maybe it’s asshole-ish of me, but I decide to lay it on thick.
“I don’t even know why she left. I just woke up, and she was gone.
That’s…why I’m here.” I think Gina’s stopped breathing, but I don’t look.
I smile sadly at Cheryl and Diana behind her.
“I needed to get away. Spend the summer clearing my head, you know?”
“You poor thing,” Cheryl whispers, her fingers light against her chest.
Diana’s expression hasn’t changed. I can’t tell if she’s believing any of this.
“You’re not staying here,” the lumberjack—Milo, apparently—says abruptly. “We don’t have room.”
He nudges Gina, who looks up from my hand. “My cabin is a one-bedroom,” she says apologetically but automatically.
That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He sighs and says, “ Our cabin is too small for guests.”
They’re living together. It shouldn’t hurt like this. She was only mine for a night, but it feels like someone—a tatted-up lumberjack—slammed an axe into my chest.
“It’s a Monday,” Cheryl says, turning to Diana. “Surely you have a cabin they could stay in, at least for a few nights?”
Diana glances from Gina and the lumberjack to me. “We can’t afford to give you a cabin for the summer—they’re for paying guests. But you can stay in one tonight, no charge, since you’re family.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at her. “We appreciate it.”
“I’ll check you in,” Diana says before returning to Gina and the lumberjack, “While you two get started with Cheryl. Family reunions can wait, but we can’t put this wedding off any longer, or we’ll end up with hotdogs on paper plates in a snowstorm.”
“Do you need help with the cat?” Gina asks me. “It’s not safe for it to be wandering around. There are wild animals.”
My furry bro is not getting eaten by wild animals. “I’ve got this,” I say, pushing between Gina and Milo and walking over to the tree Briar and Clay are standing under.
“Are you okay?” Briar asks in a low voice, her eyes flicking back towards the others.
“Yeah, just go with it,” I say as I crane my head up.
Trouble’s blue-green eyes stare back at me from a branch about ten feet up.
He's a champagne mink Tonkinese, Briar told me. She wouldn’t tell me anything else about him, which is a little weird.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I say to the cat. “What are you doing up there?”
He meows back at me, sounding pitiful. And same, little bro.
I get it. I don’t know what’s going on, either.
Escaping up a tree doesn’t sound half bad.
I reach into the pocket of my joggers and pull out a few cat treats I’d stashed after our last rest stop when a leashed but angry Trouble had to be coaxed back into his carrier.
“Look what I have,” I tell him, holding up my cupped palm.
“Come down to Daddy, and they’re all yours. ”
“You are not his daddy,” Briar hisses. She’s still mad that her cat likes me more.
“You aren’t even your wife’s daddy,” Clay laughs.
That’s fucking low.
Trouble inches forward. I know my job. I turn, offering my back as a landing pad. Ten seconds later, the cat knocks the air out of my lungs. I wince as claws dig into my skin through my shirt.
“You naughty boy,” Briar says with a sigh as Trouble climbs over my shoulder for the treats.
I let him get one before Briar takes him and the rest of the treats off me.
“Let’s get you back in your carrier,” she says to her cat, holding him secure even though all his interest is now in the treats enclosed in her other hand.
This little break with Trouble is the perfect reset on my mood, and while Briar takes her cat to the car, I follow Clay up the steps, pausing to look at a wire and glass dragonfly sticking out of a large planter filled with pink flowers.
There was a photo of it on Happy Lake Lodge’s website.
Since Gina isn’t active on social media, I spent a lot of time looking at that website.
It was a reminder of everything we talked about that night, but more than that, it was a slice of her home.
Her life. Looking at things she might look at every day made me feel closer to her.
So I slide a finger over the jewel-toned glass ball of the dragonfly’s head. I’m finally here. It hasn’t gone how I’d hoped, but it’s not too late. I’ll talk to Gina and take it from there.
A small bell over the door tinkles as I let myself in.
From the outside, I expected the log building to feel claustrophobic, but the ceiling soars up in an A-frame, and most of the back wall is covered in windows that look out onto the lake. Something folksy plays softly in the background. However old the lodge might be, it’s well-loved and cared for.
There’s a reception desk directly across from the door, hooks on the wall behind it holding an array of keys.
Diana moves the mouse to wake the computer, and I join Clay.
There’s a thick pad of paper on the desk—maps of the campground, with cabins and tent sites numbered.
It’s bigger than I’d thought. I lift the nearest corner with my thumb, riffling through the pages.
My eyes catch on a guestbook, and since Clay has this whole check-in thing under control, I move to flip through it.
So many names. So many people who enjoyed their time here.
To the left, shelves hold essentials and souvenirs. Fridges and freezers line the far wall, everything from ice to soft drinks to ice cream for sale. My stomach rumbles. Breakfast was hours ago and lunch was a Snickers bar.
The bulk of the lodge is a space for guests to lounge, with comfy chairs and sofas at the end near a stone fireplace. Gina sits at one of the half-dozen small tables, but she’s not paying any attention to Cheryl, who is unpacking a box next to her.
Her eyes are on me.
I peer around the corner of the reception desk. The lumberjack is behind the counter of a tiny café, his back to me, as he makes a coffee.
“I told you cake samples would get his butt in a chair,” Cheryl chatters brightly, tilting her head to read something written on a white bakery box, totally unaware of my approach.
“I have a butt,” I blurt out.
Gina clamps a hand over what had to be a snort, and Cheryl looks up with wide eyes.
Okay, obviously, I have a butt. “I can sit in a chair and give some tips?”
They’re still looking at me. Shit.
“You had me at cake?” I offer, and my stomach rumbles on cue.