Every Step of the Way: (Smugglers Cove #1)

by Anna Lindgren

  “I used trees I cut down from the property to build the house. Cheaper and more sustainable,” he says, but I can’t find the words to comment as I’m in awe of the home before me.

  “It…it’s…” I swallow. “It’s beautiful,” I say as we continue approaching the structure. We walk through the door at the back of the home, and I’m nearly swept away with this feeling of belonging. The home has dark wooden floors and a light, soft green fills the walls. Each window is framed with wood. I look out the windows facing the back and watch spruce trees loom out of the ground, creating a canopy overhead.

  Jake walks over behind me. “It looks really cool when there’s snow. Like a wintery cabin up in the mountains somewhere.”

  I nod as I allow myself to imagine how magical this place would be in the snow, how wonderful life could be here, tucked away in this little cabin just Jake and I.

  “Let me show you the rest of the house.” He tugs at my hand. “There’s a full bathroom through there.” He gestures over to a door cracked at the far side of the house. Next to it sits a grand kitchen with a large island in the middle.

  “Kitchen,” I say pointing toward the stove.

  Jake rewards me with a smile, “I should let you lead the tour, huh?”

  I nod, but when he turns me toward the front of the house, my heart stops. The windows in the back of the house match those in the front. However, these windows overlook the ocean at the northern part of the island.

  “This view has always been my favorite,” I say, barely able to get the words dislodged from my chest. “I always kayak this way when I have free time,”

  “Really?” He sounds surprised.

  A breathless, “yeah,” is all I manage to get out.

  I walk toward the windows, taking in the large fireplace on my left. The windows in the front double as sliding glass doors, opening up to a large deck seemingly suspended precariously above the ocean.

  The house isn’t giant, but it is breathtaking. I stand admiring the view for a moment before I return my gaze to Jake. He’s smiling, standing, watching me take it all in.

  “This place is lovely,” I say, gesturing around me.

  He moves toward me slowly but stops just shy of me. He lifts his hands to his face, taking another mental photo.

  “Stop,” I say as I playfully bat his hands away.

  “You stop,” he says, smiling but continuing to click the mental camera. “You look stunning, and I want to remember this day.”

  I drop my chin as I feel my cheeks flush with heat. “Jake,” is all I say before he grabs my hand, moving toward the back of the house once more. I notice a spiral wooden staircase which I assume leads up to his bedroom.

  I swallow.

  Jake starts walking up the narrow staircase, and an embarrassed giggle escapes me. He turns to look down at me. “What’s so funny?”

  I toss a hand to my lips as I cover another laugh from escaping. “You are such a large man on a very tiny staircase.” It’s no use; the laugh erupts.

  “Yeah,” he says as he wipes a hand through his hair. “I was eighteen when I built this part. I didn’t plan on growing much more,” he says with a shrug and a grin. “This will be my next remodel project.”

  “No,” I say with delight. “You have to keep these stairs. That way I have something to smile about whenever I see you climbing them.”

  He restricts a grin from breaking across his mouth, and I take in the assumption of the words I have spoken. I’m not sure I’ll get to see Jake walk up and down these stairs in our future. What I do know is I will always want this memory. When his back is turned, I snap my own brief mental picture, chuckling as I hear each stair creak under the weight of him as if pleading for mercy.

  I jog up the stairs and take in an open, airy space. There are skylights above the bed that let in an abundance of natural light.

  “Doesn’t this get too bright in the summer?” I point toward the window.

  Jake doesn’t say anything, just grabs a remote and presses a button. Suddenly, shades lift across the skylight, blocking out the light.

  “Oh,” I say as I drop my hand to my side.

  “It’s cool in the winter months. I sometimes have gotten to watch the northern lights from the comfort of my own bed,” he tells me as he continues to sing praises about the house he built with his own two hands. “On a clear night, I can see the stars.”

  I sigh with a head nod, thinking about how much I’d like to see it one day in the comfort of Jake’s bed, lying next to him in the quiet peacefulness of his cabin.

  “Finally, the bathroom’s through there.” He points back toward the back of the house. I open the door to see a tub sitting in front of the framed windows looking out into the trees, giving the illusion of suspension in a treehouse.

  I lean against the frame of the door, resting my head against it as I think of how much I would love to take a bath in this tub.

  “I have clean towels in the cupboard there.” Jake points toward an open closet. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to use the shower downstairs to warm myself up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he says with a smile and a kiss to my cheek.

  Before I know it, he is shuffling down the stairs, leaving me alone in his room. I decide to do the only thing a woman in my position would do—I take a luxurious bath.

  I spend longer than I probably should, relaxing in the tub, taking in the sight of the trees as they bend and sway in the wind. When I come out of the bathroom, I see a stack of dry folded clothes on the bed with a note.

  Since you were the one to veto raingear, I thought about letting you go naked. Wear these.

  I smile to myself as I grab a hoodie off the pile of stacked clothes and toss it on over my bare skin. The soft warmth sends chills over my body, the faint smell of salt, fire and wood dance across my nose. His clothes smell like him, I think as I inhale another deep breath. I toss on a pair of sweats that are way too big, but I make do by pulling the drawstring tight around my waist. I pull on a pair of wool socks and catch sight of myself in the mirror. I giggle at my reflection, like I’ve been swallowed up in his clothes. My hair tousled and face bare.

  I make my way down the stairs to be met by the wonderful smell of mac and cheese. I sneak up to Jake and wrap my hands around his waist. He turns around with a smile across his face. “Nice bath?”

  “The nicest,” I say with a slow kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

  “I made some mac and cheese. My mom always used to make this after a long, wet day on the water. Felt it would be fitting for our adventure today.”

  I snatch the bowl from his hands and dive in. “I love mac and cheese.”

  He chuckles as I plop down in a spot at the island. He joins me a moment later with his own bowl. We eat silently. The only sounds heard are the wind rustling the trees and the rain pinging against the metal roof.

  “I love it here,” I say, taking another bite of mac and cheese.

  “Me too.” He nods in reassurance, scarfing down the remainder of his food.

  After we have both finished eating, we sit on Jake’s couch in front of the fireplace. I sit with my back against the armrest so I can face the dramatic views of the ocean. Jake tells stories of what it was like to grow up in Smuggler’s Cove. Funny stories that have me snorting with laughter. Others are heartbreaking, like what it was like when he lost his dad.

  After a while of sitting together in one another’s company, a thought comes to my mind.

  “It’s Hilary’s birthday on Friday,” I say, twiddling my fingers.

  “I heard,” he nods, “big party for her at The Fish House.” I knew he would have already been invited.

  “Are you planning on going?” I ask, my cheeks flush.

  “Yeah, Ryan and I were planning to go.”

  “Would you maybe want to go… with me?” I avoid his eye contact and ignore the hopeful light flash behind his eyes.

  “Like…as a date
?” He lifts his eyebrows.

  I toss a pillow, and it slams into his chest. “Yes, as a date, you big dork.”

  He laughs and sets the pillow down next to him. “I’d love to.”

  I nod as I nervously chew along my bottom lip in a desperate attempt to hide my grin.

  A few hours later, Jake drives me back to town. We drop the kayak back off at work, and then Jake drops me off at my house, walking me to my door as always. I smile and turn to him as I jiggle the doorknob.

  “Thanks for coming on my adventure today,” I say with a wry grin.

  “My pleasure,” he says and leaves me with a brief kiss. “See you Friday,” I swoon the moment the door is closed.

  “Was that Jake Davis?” Hilary calls from the couch, waggling her blonde eyebrows incessantly.

  “Yes…” I say, unable to hide my grin.

  “Are those”—she gestures along my body—“his clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you guys…you know?”

  “No!” I bark.

  “Can’t blame a girl for being curious, especially since you show up here in a man’s clothes.”

  “We kissed,” I blurt out as I place my fingers to my lips, remembering the feel of his.

  “Oh my God,” Hilary shrieks and flails her limbs across the couch. “You did not!”

  “Mhm.”

  “So what does it mean?” she asks, patting the couch cushion next to her.

  “I’m not entirely sure.” I sit beside her.

  “Well,” she says transparently. “The Jake I know doesn’t really do casual flings.”

  “I know. I don’t think I want to either,” I say hesitantly.

  “Well that’s new,” she says unexpectedly.

  “I know. I had a moment in the car after we kissed where I completely freaked myself out. I think he could tell and he called it out,” I sigh heavily, “He asked me to give him a fair chance. So, I’m going to.”

  “Wow,” is all she says.

  “What?”

  “I’m just really happy for you. Jake’s a great guy. I’ve always said he is one of the good ones. I’m glad you’ve decided to give him a fair shot.”

  I smile to myself, recognizing the growth. “Yeah, I know it will be difficult. I just hope he can continue to be patient with me.”

  “I have no doubt he will,” she says before standing and grabbing a glass of wine. She fills me in on her day of work and tours of people she had today. I tell her about kayaking the lake and how magical it all felt. I tell her about Jake’s gorgeous house, and she smiles knowingly, having seen it before.

  “I’m happy you’re happy,” Hilary says before taking another sip of her wine.

  “Me too.”

  Thirteen

  Jake

  I decide to pick Cammie up after her last kayak tour the following day. I’m going to surprise her and ask her to come work on some house projects. I’ve got to paint my kitchen, and with the weather being awful, I figure she might be interested.

  I pull into the lot and walk toward the top of the ramp and gaze out over the harbor. My eyes find Cammie magnetically as I notice her standing there talking to a tour of people at the end of another long day. She’s glowing despite the sideways wind and rain. I lean my elbows over the rotten, wooden, railing and stare awestruck at her bright smile and reddened cheeks that brighten this dreary day.

  She notices me standing there and waves a hand. I lift my hand in response and see her smile grow across her face before turning back to her conversation and saying her goodbyes. I make my way down the ramp and help her pull the kayaks out of the water so she can spray them down.

  “What are you doing here?” She asks.

  “Just wanted to come see if you had plans for this evening,” I say, a grin tugging at my lips.

  “What’d you have in mind?” she asks as we fall into our rhythmic dance. She never gives in easily, always making me say exactly what I mean.

  “I have to paint my kitchen and figured with the weather being as it is, you might want to come help,” I say, sticking my hands nervously in my pockets. “I’ll cook you dinner.”

  She places her hands on her hips, nearly swimming in her oversized rain gear. She makes me wait until I’m about to include dessert before she agrees. “Alright,” she says with a quick shrug of her shoulders.

  She starts charging up the ramp and I sigh a breath of relief, that was easier than I thought it would be. For a moment, I wonder if things have changed since we kissed and if this is us falling into a new normal.

  I jog up the ramp, trying to catch up with her in time to see her waiting patiently next to my truck. She starts stripping off layers of raingear before hopping into the passenger side. I jump into the driver’s seat and start to head out the road. She fills me in about her day and talks to me about all the funny questions she was asked.

  “One guy actually asked me what elevation we were at,” she says with a dumbfounded look on her face. “I said, ‘Well, we are in a sea kayak.’”

  I laugh at her theatrics. “He still didn’t get it,” she tosses her hands, exasperated.

  “You should hear some of the ones I’ve been asked over the years,” I say, shaking my head. “Growing up here has exposed me to some real morons.”

  “Oh, yeah. What’s your worst?” she asks excitedly, angling her legs toward me.

  “One time, I was, like, fifteen maybe, working at a tourist shop downtown. I had this guy come in fuming. His face was all red and puffy. I swear he had steam coming out of his ears, no joke.” I hear her laugh beside me. “He comes in and is like, ‘Excuse me, can you tell me why the glacier is so dirty?’”

  “No,” I hear Cammie gasp beside me.

  “Yeah, I was like, ‘What?’ He was all, ‘I’m just surprised that you don’t clean it off and make it more presentable.’ I was like, ‘I’ll get right on it.’”

  Her laughter consumes me with its intoxicating ring.

  “Alright you win,” she laughs.

  We continue swapping stories on our way out to my house when my phone starts ringing.

  “Sorry,” I say, pulling it from my pocket. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  “I’m fine, honey.” She tries to sound calm, but I can hear the rattle in her voice. She’s scared. “I just fell, and I, uh, well, I need some help cleaning up.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I say before hanging up.

  “Sorry,” I say, turning to Cammie. “My mom fell and needs some help.”

  “Oh no, is she okay?” Cammie asks, concerned.

  “I think so. I just need to go check on her.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you min—"

  “No, of course not,” she says before I can even finish.

  I speed up my mom’s driveway and notice Chester isn’t waiting for me outside. It seems as though he can sense Mom isn’t doing okay.

  I open the truck door and turn around to tell Cammie she can wait in the truck only to see she has jumped out and is heading for the door. My heart stammers in my chest and I can feel myself fall a little bit in love with her determination.

  “You didn’t tell me your mom was Grace,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say, not sure where she is going with this. I see Cammie bend down to grab a key from the flower pot next to the door and am struck with the realization that she’s been here before.

  She unlocks the door with ease and walks into my mom’s house.

  “Grace?” she calls out.

  “I’m in here,” I hear my mom’s voice strained from near the kitchen. That’s when I see her sitting in a chair near the kitchen window mending a gash in her knee.

  “Mom,” I move to her. “What happened?”

  I take her knee into my hands and start rolling up her pant leg.

  “Dear, can you get a washcloth please?” She calls over to Cammie. Cammie nods, grabbing a cloth from the drawer next to the stove and running it under cool water before w
alking it over to me.

  “What happened, Mom?” I ask again.

  “I was just watering plants. I slipped on the stool, lost my balance, and fell. It isn’t a big deal.”

  I evaluate her leg and press the washcloth to the wound. “This looks like a bigger deal than you’re letting on.” I try not to sound like I’m scolding her.

  “Oh, stop.” She waves me off, wincing as I apply pressure to the wound. “Cammie, dear. Why don’t you make us some tea.”

  Cammie nods and puts the tea kettle on the stove. I flash a questioning look towards my mom. She returns my gaze with a sly wink.

  “How do you two know each other?” I whisper.

  “Cammie came over to buy some starters from me last year. She told me she always had a garden back home but didn’t know what grew well here. I showed her all my tricks,” my mom says as she looks over toward Cammie with adoration. This doesn’t get by me as I know my mother. Let me say, she doesn’t just share her gardening tricks with anyone.

  “Yeah, I still would never have thought to use fish poop as a form of fertilizer,” Cammie says, smiling over at my mom.

  Alright, what is this crap? My mom has never once shared that gardening secret with anyone outside of our immediate family. I glare at my mom with skepticism, and she pats my shoulder as she goes about conversing with Cammie. I am clearly the third wheel on their date.

  The tea kettle whistles, and Cammie grabs mugs off the shelf and pours the steaming water into them. She walks them over to the table and takes a seat.

  “Gracie, you didn’t tell me your son was Jake,” she says deviously.

  “Oh, I didn’t?” My mom takes a sip. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

  I scoff. My mother doesn’t let things slip her mind. I want to know what her endgame is here.

  “I didn’t know you two were hanging out.” She gestures a finger between Cammie and me.

  “Cammie’s best friends with Hilary,” I say with as flat of a tone as I can manage.

  “Is that so?” she says, smiling as she takes another sip of her tea. What a sham. “How is work coming along?”

  “It’s good; we had a large tour at the end of my day today, but it was fine.” Cammie smiles brightly. “How was yours?”