“I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she said. “In the meantime, use whoever he is to write more beautiful songs, all right? This is just a hiatus, kid. It’s not forever.”
I glanced at my guitars, propped in one corner of the shack. I still hadn’t taken them out. I wondered if I ever would.
After I got off the phone, I went up to the main house and grabbed some coffee and fruit, careful not to wake Mama while I got ready for a morning swim. It was better to go early, before the boaters came. My ankle still wasn’t a hundred percent yet, so I had to be disciplined about the other parts of my training if I still wanted to race by the Fourth, in just over three weeks. Today would be my longest swim—across the lake and back, which was about a mile, the same distance I’d need to do on race day.
When I strode out carrying my swimmer’s buoy, I practically ran right into Lucas, who was about to knock on the front door.
“Whoa!” he burst as he steadied the two of us on the threshold of the sliding glass door.
I took a step back, clasping the buoy to my chest. “Hey! What are you doing here so early?”
Lucas looked around and shrugged. “I thought I’d check to see if you had gotten any help with the outer cabins yet. If you haven’t, I can get started on some things until you do.”
I shook my head. “We haven’t, but it’s really okay. I’m chipping away at what I can, and eventually I’ll find a job so we can pay for it. We’re good.”
“Look…I wasn’t going to say anything.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “But I ran into Ellie at the bar last night when I was, um, out. I told her I would come by, see what needs to be done and if I can help at all.”
I could just see it. Lucas hanging out at Curly’s with his posse, enjoying pitchers of cheap beer and the attention of local girls. Someone would have put Journey or Guns N’ Roses on the jukebox, or maybe some Garth Brooks, and then an impromptu dance party would have started in the space between the vinyl booths. And then Mama, with her loud, boisterous self, would wander up to a group of men half her age and make an ass of herself until Lucas, with his polite manner, would guide her back to her friends making all sorts of promises so she’d leave him alone.
Same story. Different time.
“Lucas, you don’t have to do this,” I said. “Really. She can’t pay you, and it’s not fair of her to take advantage. I’m here now, and I’m taking care of things, slowly but surely.”
“Hey. I told you too that I’d come.”
He gave me a look that I was so, so tired of seeing. I’d been on the receiving end of people’s pity for being Eloise Sharp’s daughter my entire life. Poor, sad Maggie. How adorably pathetic that I would actually consider myself competent.
But then that gaze, initially harmless, morphed as it floated over my body. My one-piece swimsuit wasn’t anywhere near what you would call revealing, but it definitely showed off a lot more of me than Lucas had seen the other day. He crossed his beefy arms, causing his biceps to stretch the sleeves of his t-shirt. Okay, so maybe I was giving him kind of a bad rap earlier. Soft gut or not, Lucas’s arms definitely weren’t anything to laugh about.
By the time he met my eyes again, he was blushing, his cheeks two cherry-red circles. I looked away.
“I, um. Right. I’m going to get started, then,” Lucas said and turned toward the back of the house.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out if I wanted to go after him or not. In the end, I went down the other stairs and jumped into the water feet first, trying to tell myself it was because I was eager to get moving and not because I needed to cool off.
I hadn’t swum in years, not since college. Pools took up space, and space was premium in a city like New York. Only the poshest athletic clubs had them, and considering I could never afford even the shittiest gym membership, my exercise regimen in the city had mostly consisted of jogging up and down the river when the weather wasn’t terrible.
But my muscles hadn’t forgotten the strokes, the even glide, the breathing work of swimming in open water. This early in the day, the lake was still enough that it was basically a pool of its own. I enjoyed the rhythm of the movement, the flicker of fish many feet below me, the alternating patches of cold and warmer water that gave me a slight thrill when I glided through. The feeling was back, the same one I had just before crashing my bike. Things felt natural again, after years of confinement and pressure. Always trying to be something I wasn’t.
I closed my eyes. Once again, I was free.
Until I wasn’t.
One stroke later, I was viciously jerked back as something tugged me under the translucent green, forcing water into my lungs and up my nose. I popped back up, coughing and sputtering, then twisted around to find the leash of my buoy completely tangled in a bunch of lily pads I had passed without realizing. Dammit. I really needed to shorten the leash.
“Shit!” I exclaimed. I pulled as hard as I could, but the leash wouldn’t come loose. I yanked at the stems of the lilies, but none of them broke, too strong and pliant in the late spring water. Fuck. I was seriously stuck here without a pair of scissors in sight. I was going to have to chew through some of the stems, which were looking more and more like tree roots.
I turned in the water, peering around for early morning fishermen. Of course, just when I needed them to be lurking around, they were nowhere to be seen. Of fucking course.
I turned onto my back and stared up at the clouds rushing across the sky. “Fuck,” I muttered. Then, I shouted it: “Fuuuuuccccccck!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I screamed at the sound of the deep voice echoing over the water. I kicked around, sinking for a second, swallowing more lake water before popping back up to find a man jogging out to the end of a long dock about fifty feet away, his hand perched over his brow like a visor as he glared at me.
His hair, just like yesterday, flew around his shoulders in a wild, wavy mess in the morning breeze. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts that sat low on his hips, and even from this far I could clearly see the square, cut edges of his deeply tanned chest and abs, and the two diagonal lines of muscle that followed his narrow hips and disappeared under his waistband. Jesus Christ. My imagination hadn’t done him any justice whatsoever. Even tangled up in a mess of lily pads and tule stems, frustrated to holy hell, I couldn’t ignore a sight like that.
“I’m—I got stuck,” I managed to call out. “Do you—can you bring me some scissors or something? My leash is tangled, and I can’t break the stems.”
Goldilocks shook his head and muttered something to himself that sounded like, “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” though it was hard to make it out from fifty feet away.
“What was that?” I asked, feeling more desperate and pathetic by the second.
“Hold on,” he called out, his deep voice skipping ominously over the water. “I’ll be right there.”
5
Twenty minutes, one canoe, a pair of garden shears, and one very disgruntled mountain man later, I was sitting in an Adirondack chair on the deck of Goldilocks’s old cabin, enjoying his elevated lake view from behind a camouflage of pine trees halfway up the hill. I had lived here my whole life, taken countless cruises in our boat around the lake’s perimeter, but I had never known this place existed. That’s how well it blended into the forest.
I leaned back in the chair, catching my breath and spying my house directly across the water, while my yeti man tried to repair my knotted leash. I couldn’t swim safely back across the lake without a buoy, and I had a feeling he wasn’t interested in driving me home again. I looked up at the sky. The sun was rising higher, and several more boats and jet skis were already buzzing around. It was possible swimming wouldn’t be an option anyway.
“So, are you stalking me or something?” Goldilocks asked while he sawed at the lily pad stalks with a camping knife.
I jerked my head back at him. “What?”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes traine
d on his task. “Twice in a week when usually I can go three times that without seeing anyone. I did tell you I wanted you off my property, didn’t I? If you wanted to meet me that badly, there are better ways to do it than trespassing.”
I recoiled into my chair. “Someone certainly thinks a lot of himself.”
Okay. So maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to be goading a man who not only had come to my rescue, but who also seemed to have a relatively short temper. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even know this guy, but I resented the hell out of him. I resented him for being kind of a dick the first time we met. I resented him for not having enough manners to even shake my hand. And I really resented him for getting inside my head all week, and now having that kind of body, the kind I probably wouldn’t stop thinking about for another month.
Goldilocks ground his teeth. “You should be more careful. If you’re not a stalker—and jury’s still out on that one—then you’re obviously accident-prone. What were you doing this time, swimming with your eyes closed? You’d think you would have learned your lesson.”
“Listen, Gold—” I stopped, took a deep breath. But it was no use. “Do you think you could at least tell me your name if you’re going to lecture me? Otherwise, I’m going to keep calling you Goldilocks in my head, and that basically makes me one of the three bears. I’m not sure I’m cool with that, since you’re the one being a dick.”
The man froze with an expression halfway between irritated and shocked. But his eyes practically sparkled in the sunlight, and his lips pressed together into a crooked line under his beard.
“Goldilocks?” he asked.
I looked pointedly at the wild riot of blond. “If the shoe fits.”
He picked a lock off his shoulder and examined it critically. “Huh.” He set the buoy and his knife on the ground and stood up. “Hold on.”
He disappeared into the house, and when he returned, wore a shirt, just as ratty as the one from the last time I saw him, and had tied his hair into a bun at the crown of his head. I thought I had gotten my fill of man buns from the hipsters in the Village, but this guy…well, let’s just say there’s something different when a man ties his hair up out of expediency instead of pretension. With his hair pulled away from his face, revealing high cheekbones and the hint of a strong jaw that couldn’t totally be masked by his beard, he had gone from feral and somewhat yummy to freaking delectable. Seriously. What was wrong with me?
“Better?” he asked as he resumed his task.
I just stared. “Um…yeah. I guess.”
Again, there was the hint of a smile. I couldn’t help wondering what it looked like when it was all the way there.
“Will,” he said quietly, maintaining focus on the mess of stems.
“What?”
He looked up again, and this time, the sparks in his eyes were even more potent. Or maybe that was my heart thumping in response.
“My name,” he said a bit louder, “is Will. So no more of that Goldilocks bullshit, all right, Lily pad?”
I scoffed. “Lily pad?”
He glanced at the mess of stalks and leaves dripping on the deck, and this time that hint of smile was even more pronounced. “If the shoe fits,” he said and went back to his cleaning.
A breeze rose through the trees, and I rubbed my arms, bracing myself against the chill. Now that I was out of the water and in the shade, I was getting kind of cold. Will looked over at the motion, and his eyes drifted briefly over my chest, which I realized was showing quite clearly just how cold I was through the thin Lycra. The path of his gaze didn’t stop, falling over my bare legs, suddenly making me feel the very opposite of cold. I wondered if his touch, which I already knew was just as warm, would have the same effect.
This was wrong. Three months ago, I put the final nail in the coffin of a nasty, years-long relationship by sending my ex to jail for what he had done to me. My heart and my soul were currently in tatters. And here I was, flickering like a live fire under the gaze of some weird mountain hermit with a sharp temper, crazy hair, and a beard like Gandalf. What was going on?
Will cleared his throat audibly. “So, the biking, the swimming. Are you training for something, or just messing around?”
I shrugged. “Well, there’s that triathlon that the inn is doing on the Fourth. I used to compete in events like that in high school, and it sounded like a good way to get back into shape.” And back to myself, I wanted to add, but didn’t. This stranger didn’t need to know more about my issues.
Will examined me for a moment. “What’s the inn?”
I looked at him, surprised. “The place down by Muzzy Cove? The Forster Inn, you know? The family has owned it for three generations, I think. It’s literally the only place to stay on the entire lake other than vacation rentals.”
Will shook his head. “What’s Muzzy?”
My frown deepened. “The cove on the northeast leg of the lake. Don’t you know the basic geography? When did you move here?”
He shrugged. “It’s not on the map. I came about four years ago,” he replied. “I just keep to myself.”
“It’s pretty hard to keep to yourself in a community like this unless you’re purposefully avoiding people.” I looked out to the lake, which I knew was full of gossips. There’s no way that Barb, my mom, the Forsters, or any other number of people out on a cocktail cruise around the lake’s perimeter, had missed the fact that a stranger had been living in this old cabin for the last four years.
But then again, it was pretty well hidden. I hadn’t even known it was here until today.
Will sawed at a particularly stubborn piece of stem. “When I see boats driving by, I go inside. I don’t bother them, and they don’t bother me. I moved here to get away from people, not see more of them. I don’t really get along with most.”
Shocker, I wanted to say. But instead, I just hugged my knees to my chest. “Well, maybe you should. People around here are nice, for the most part. And it’s good to have some neighbors who care about you.”
He looked at me like he didn’t believe me.
“What if your house burns down?” I continued. “What if you need sugar in the morning? No one’s an island, much as they might want to be.”
Will just stayed quiet, staring fixedly at my leash. His hands stilled, but the one holding the knife grasped it so tightly, his knuckles were white.
“I don’t like sugar,” he said finally, and then went back to his work more intently than before.
I looked up at the house and back at him. “So, what do you do all day, then? Do you have a job or something? Do you work from home?”
Will looked up sharply. All humor vanished. “Why do you want to know?”
I frowned. “Whoa, buddy. I was just making conversation. Most people ask those kinds of questions when they are getting to know someone, you know?”
His fierce expression didn’t waver, but this time, I was ready for it. No flinching. Instead, I sat up straight.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go first. My name is Maggie Sharp. I used to be a waitress-slash-musician. I was out in New York for a while trying to break into the industry, but I fail—I just got burned out of being a starving artist. And when my mom’s life fell apart, she needed some help getting her shit back together, so I decided to come home and help us both recalibrate and figure out our lives.” I cocked my head at him. “Okay, your turn, mountain man.”
In return, I got a withering glare full of disdain. But this one didn’t cut like the others. Instead, it made me giggle.
“Don’t make me start calling you Goldilocks again,” I warned him.
One side of his face tugged upward into a half smile. Even just that half managed to tug equally at something unnamable in my chest. Damn.
“Okay,” he said as he went back to picking at a particularly nasty knot of greenery. “My name is Will…Baker. I used to work in, um, advertising. But after I made some money, I decided to cash out and move someplace where p
eople couldn’t fucking bother me anymore.” He looked back up, and his eyes danced with mischief. “Clearly that’s working out really well for me.”
I grinned. That half smile broadened a little more. I stuck out a hand just like I had yesterday, and after looking at it for a moment, he took it in his much larger one.
Yeah. Sparks.
“Nice to meet you, Will Baker of Connecticut,” I said. “Thank you for rescuing me, twice now.”
His expression flared. “How did you know I was from Connecticut?”
“You told me yesterday, remember?” I tapped my head. “I’m like an elephant. I never forget.”
His sudden temper receded, and the half smile returned. Jeez, this guy was hot and cold.
“Ah. Okay. Well, nice to meet you too, Maggie Sharp of Newman Lake. And, um, sorry about yesterday. You caught me by surprise. I don’t really do well with surprises.”
“I gathered,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “So you’ve really been here for four years and haven’t met anyone?”
“Nope. Don’t want to, either.”
“But how is that even possible? I get that you stay off your dock, but I grew up here. People on this lake are nosy. No one ever walked over a casserole or came and knocked on your door?”
Will shrugged. “It’s easier than you might think. I have most of my food sent here so I don’t have to go shopping. I hike, camp, read, write. My house sits on five acres, way out of sight for most people. It’s easy to be here, alone.” He looked up. “You think I’m some crazy psycho, don’t you?”
I twisted my mouth around uneasily. “Well…”
His shoulders hunched. “It does sound crazy,” he murmured to himself, and the sadness in his voice caused any anxiety on my part to melt immediately.
“Hey,” I said, reaching to touch his arm gently.
It was just as warm as it had been before, but it still caught me by surprise. Will looked at my hand for a moment, but didn’t pull away. When he looked up, his eyes were wide, almost mournful.
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