Lake Season

by Denise Hunter

  “No, it’s all right. I’m actually filling in for Levi for a few minutes.” She dangled the key, attached to a buoy designed to make the keys float if they were lost overboard. “Do you want to take it out now?”

  Adam took the key from her, something hesitant in his action. In the way he avoided her eyes.

  “You’ve . . . driven a boat before, right?”

  “Of course. Is there something I need to sign?”

  She waved him off. “I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

  “Would you . . . um . . .” He scratched the back of his neck. “Would you like to come along? After you’re finished here, I mean. I’d love to, you know, hear all that lake history and everything.”

  It was so sweet the way he asked. His uncertainty. A pleasant change from guys who took their blatant appeal for granted. Suddenly her boat ride-and-read plan seemed like a snooze fest.

  A smile bloomed on Molly’s face. “I would love that.”

  Thirty minutes later the inn was growing distant as Adam maneuvered the boat along the shoreline. Molly took in a lungful of fresh air, enjoying the feel of the breeze stirring her hair.

  This was clearly not his first time captaining a boat. Theirs was just a simple aluminum deal with two bench seats. He sat at the stern, guiding them with the tiller on the ten-horsepower outboard motor.

  A cloud swept over the sun, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the afternoon. The boat slowed a bit, the motor growing quieter.

  “What’s that?” Adam pointed up the hillside where homes had given way to wider spaces. A big old building balanced on the hillside.

  He’d been asking questions since they’d left the pier, and she was happy to play tour guide.

  “That’s the Bluebell Baptist Youth Camp. See the smaller buildings around the main building? Those are the cabins where the kids stay. The big building is sort of a community center. They’ve hosted breakfasts and other events for years, but mainly they cater to underprivileged children.”

  There were about a dozen kids splashing around in the roped-off section in front of the property, where inflatable floats and slides dotted the water.

  “That’s an expensive piece of property for a youth camp.”

  “Very. And they’re struggling, I’m afraid. They’ve had serious issues with the building’s foundation, and if they can’t fix it they’ll have to shut it down. This will probably be their last summer.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  The recollection stirred up negative feelings. Two years ago when Dominic had found out about the camp’s financial troubles he committed to saving it. He was vocal about it in town, getting everyone’s hopes up. When he was exposed for the fraud he was, Molly felt as though she’d let down the entire community.

  “Can’t they do a fund-raiser or something?”

  Molly gave him a wan smile. “The fix is very expensive—to the tune of millions of dollars.”

  “Yikes. That is a lot of money. And I guess selling the property wouldn’t net them enough to start over somewhere else.”

  “Nope. It’s a real shame too. They help so many disadvantaged kids. The property has an interesting history. The church bought it back in the late fifties. That main building used to be a dance hall, but the church wasn’t happy with all the debauchery going on, so they bought the property from the brothers who owned it.”

  “Must’ve been a wild place.”

  Molly tossed a smile over her shoulder. “It was mainly just the dancing they objected to.”

  “I thought the old dance hall was in town, where that theater is now.”

  “Well, interesting story . . . Seems one of the brothers, Gibby, who sold the property to the church, wasn’t quite finished with the idea of a dance hall.”

  Adam laughed. “I see where this is going.”

  “Yep. He decided to take his money and open a new dance hall. Right smack in the middle of town.”

  “I’ll bet the church was fit to be tied.”

  Molly shrugged. “Nothing they could do about it, I guess. Gibby’s was even more popular than the dance hall they’d sold. I guess it all worked out in the end. The youth camp has been a vital ministry. Too bad they’ll have to shut it down.”

  They’d floated past the property and toward a large bay that was protected by the state. It was also picturesque because of the cliffs and a waterfall that dropped from staggering heights.

  “It’s beautiful back here,” Adam said. “So secluded. Why are there no houses?”

  “This is Pineview Bay. It’s state property, so there are a lot of restrictions.” She pointed to where the protected land began and ended. “Governor Jennings saw to that during his tenure. He saw the way it was building up and decided to preserve some of the land.”

  They meandered along the shoreline, appreciating the natural beauty. Molly told him about all the trails through the reserve and the swinging bridge that was back behind the cliff, spanning a huge gorge.

  They were deep in the bay when a stiff breeze blew, giving her a chill. She looked up at the thick gray cloud obscuring the sunlight and drew in a deep breath.

  “I think I smell”—a fat dollop of rain hit her nose—“rain.”

  “We should probably head back.”

  Before he could turn around the raindrops began falling steadily.

  “Uh-oh.” Adam looked around. “Should we take cover?”

  “There’s nowhere nearby.” They were a long way from anything resembling a shelter. She looked back toward the inn, not even visible from this distance. “I guess we could make a run for it.”

  The rain came in buckets then, pummeling them with cold wet shards.

  Molly shrieked, ducking her head against the downpour.

  Adam picked up speed, making her grab for the bench seat. But rather than heading toward the inn he guided the boat toward the cove. The shelter of pine trees was the best they were going to do.

  When they reached the inlet he pulled the boat along the shore, turned off the engine, and lifted the motor. They drifted toward shore until the boat scraped bottom.

  The driving rain was so thick she couldn’t see beyond the bay to the houses dotting the lake. The trees provided a little shelter, but the rain was so relentless, the wind kicking up, they were still getting wet. Molly’s shirt and the tops of her thighs were already soaked.

  Adam climbed over her bench seat, the boat rocking with his movements. He sat down on the bench and hoisted a jacket over them like a tarp.

  “Better late than never,” he said over the roar of rain.

  Molly huddled underneath with him. “Where’d that come from?”

  “There was a 32 percent chance of rain.”

  Of course Adam would be prepared for every eventuality. “I should’ve known this would happen. It always rains after I water the flowers.”

  “At least there’s no lightning.”

  “Don’t jinx it.” She turned another smile on him, but she was unprepared for the sight of Adam. His hair was matted to his forehead, and his eyes were blocked by his rain-speckled, fogged-up glasses.

  Laughter bubbled up inside her. “How can you see a single thing?”

  Since both his hands were otherwise occupied, she reached up and lifted his glasses from his face. She started to wipe them off with her shirt, but it was soaked.

  “I don’t have anything to dry them on.”

  “That’s all right. I can see better already.”

  She turned and found him inches away. Water dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. She was suddenly aware of the spicy scent of him. Of the warmth of his body. And those eyes. Unhidden by glasses, she was getting the full effect of that warm blue gaze. She couldn’t look away. The heavy rain was like a curtain, cocooning them in their own world.

  His gaze took her in, and she could only imagine what he was seeing. Her hair must be plastered to her head. Her face was wet, the little bit of makeup she had on probably making her look
like a drowned raccoon.

  She gave a wry laugh and ran a knuckle under her eye. “I’m a mess.”

  “Tu es belle,” he whispered.

  You are beautiful.

  Her breath caught and her hand stopped midmotion. She really should tell him she spoke Italian. But she was reluctant to embarrass him. And, she had to admit, she loved being privy to his private thoughts.

  Her eyes locked on him, her smile falling away at the longing on his face. His breath brushed her cheek, warm and soft, drawing her gaze to his lips.

  And then she was leaning forward, her eyes closing. She brushed his mouth with hers. His lips were warm and soft and pliable. Her head spun at the brief touch, and a shiver of delight rippled through her.

  Her eyes still closed, she put a sliver of space between them. Felt his breath on her lips. And then they were kissing again. His lips were deliciously warm and firm. Home. Her heart thudded in her chest, making her breaths shallow. She hadn’t felt this way in so long. Not since . . .

  Dominic.

  Her chest tightened at the memory. Yes, his kisses had once made her feel amazing too. Until she discovered he wasn’t at all who she thought he was. Until the truth had come crashing down, breaking her heart in the process. The ache in her chest swelled. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

  She pushed against Adam, unable to even look at him. She was afraid of the questions she’d find in his kind eyes. She’d started this, but she couldn’t finish it. Couldn’t even think about finishing it. She could barely even think around the panic building in her chest.

  Fine time to realize she wasn’t ready for this. And now she’d gone and made everything weird between them. So, so weird.

  And, hello, you are kind of dating his best friend. Nathaniel Quinn. Remember him?

  She put more distance between them and turned her attention to the lake, calling herself all kinds of fool. Water dripped from the rim of their tarp. She wanted to pull the jacket over her head and hide.

  * * *

  Adam’s heart was thumping in his chest so loudly he feared Molly could hear it over the storm. He could still feel her, taste her, on his lips. Wished he could preserve those things for the rest of his life. That kiss. He’d been instantly lost in a fog of pleasure when her lips settled on his.

  “I am so sorry.” Molly looked like a puppy that had just been caught chewing her owner’s favorite pair of shoes. “That was . . . This is . . . I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He winced. Not that he fancied himself some kind of Romeo, but he was known for writing some darn good kisses.

  “It’s not you,” she continued. “I made everything weird. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re a guest, and I’m making you uncomfortable. Oh my gosh, Levi was right, I have no boundaries. And then there’s Jordan. What have I done?”

  Ah, Jordan. Speaking of Romeo. Adam had completely forgotten his best friend. The one who’d had his back since forever.

  “No, Molly. Please don’t. It’s all right.”

  She’d moved as far from him as possible given the narrow width of the bench. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Clearly she regretted the impulsive kiss.

  It must’ve been the romantic setting—how many kisses in the rain had he written?—and possibly the irresistible allure of the Italian language. He couldn’t discount that.

  As much as he’d enjoyed the kiss, it would’ve been better if it had never happened, because now she was distancing herself from him. He could feel her withdrawal and feared that even their friendship was slipping away.

  “It’s fine, Molly. Really. I get it.”

  More than she could even know. Her spontaneous act hadn’t really meant anything. He wasn’t what she wanted. The kiss had probably disappointed her, and he was used to disappointing people.

  As if a spigot had shut off, the rain stopped. Everything went quiet around them except the drip, drip, drip of raindrops falling from the branches above.

  Adam carefully shifted the jacket behind them, letting the water run off into the hull, glad for something to do. His eyes flickered over her features.

  Molly’s fingers covered her mouth, and she was looking everywhere but at him. “I feel just awful. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done that before. I mean, yes, I’ve kissed a man before, but I initiated this one, and that was very stupid of me.”

  He flinched. “Please don’t give it another thought.” He’d be doing enough of that for both of them. He tried for a smile, but it felt stiff and strained.

  She wasn’t looking at him anyway. She was messing with her wet hair, and the apple-y scent of her was wrapping around him.

  “We’d better get back before the sky opens up again.” He climbed over the seat, eager to put some space between them.

  She held out his glasses. “Don’t forget these.”

  “Right.”

  He took the glasses and put them on, then tilted the motor down and turned the key. The hum of the engine was a relief after the weighty silence.

  While the ride out to the bay had passed in a flash, the ride home seemed interminable. Molly sat in front of him, her back straight as a telephone pole, her shoulders rigid. How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?

  twenty-seven

  When they reached the inn, Molly said an awkward good-bye to Adam and slinked into the back of the house. She was dripping all over the floor, a mess she’d have to clean up later. She was relieved to find the front desk vacant as she slipped upstairs and down the hall toward her room.

  The cleaning cart was in front of the room across from hers and Grace’s. The door to the room was wide open.

  Entering her own room, Molly went for a towel in the bathroom and ruffled it through her wet hair. Next she grabbed some clean clothes and went back into the bathroom to change.

  She wanted to hide in her room the rest of the day. The rest of the week. Maybe longer. This is why she should put boundaries in place. So she didn’t make a total fool of herself.

  She looked in the bathroom mirror. And yes, she did in fact look like a drowned raccoon.

  Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.

  Tomorrow she’d run into Adam on the stairs or out front, and she’d behave as though nothing had happened. As though she hadn’t grabbed his face and forced a kiss on him. After going out with his best friend.

  Argh! Don’t think about it.

  She left the bathroom and found Grace dusting their dresser. “Oh, hey.”

  Grace took in her wet, disheveled hair. “Did you just shower?”

  “Got caught in the rain.”

  Grace gave her a once-over. “Your shirt’s on inside out. And backward.”

  Molly looked down at the white tag at her neckline. She pulled off the shirt and turned it right side out.

  “Thought I’d give the room a quick cleaning while I had the cart out.”

  “Thanks. It needs it.” Molly put the shirt back on and smoothed out the black fabric.

  “Is the Agony at two tomorrow?” Grace asked.

  “The what?”

  “The Brain Drain, the Agony, the Monthly. So many options. Why limit ourselves?”

  Molly gave a wobbly smile. “That’ll really get under Levi’s skin.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Grace talked about volleyball practice as she moved the duster around the bureau’s surface, but Molly couldn’t focus on what she was saying. She was too busy wondering why that kiss had freaked her out so badly. Clearly she wasn’t ready to date again.

  And yet, it had been two years since Dominic. She should probably end things with Jordan rather than lead him on. But she hadn’t had a hint of anxiety about him.

  “What’s going on with you and Jordan?” Grace asked, as if reading her mind. “Is he still texting you?”

  “Yeah. And he called yesterday. We didn’t talk long though. He was heading into a meeting.”

  As far as Grace knew, Jordan was just an agent fr
om New York. Hard as it had been, Molly had kept her word to Adam; she hadn’t told anyone about Jordan’s alter ego. It was the secret of the century, and she gave herself props for keeping her mouth shut—she needed all the props she could get right now.

  Because all she could think about was Adam and the feel of his lips on hers. She swore she could still taste his minty breath. For those few seconds she’d been lost in bliss. Because the kiss had felt so right. His lips had felt like home.

  Oh, she had to stop this. She rubbed her fingers over her mouth. Not good enough. She’d brush her teeth. A nice fresh start.

  She went to the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush. She was going to wash away every trace of that kiss. Scrub him all away. Then she was going to forget it ever happened. They’d go back to being friends. Just friends.

  Grace appeared on the threshold. “You all right? You seem a little . . . funny.”

  “I’m fine.” If she could just rewind time and take back that kiss everything would be hunky-dory. She spread the toothpaste onto her brush.

  “Um . . . what are you doing?” Grace asked.

  “Brushing my teeth.” Molly stuck the brush into her mouth.

  “That’s not—”

  “Blech!” Molly pulled the toothbrush from her mouth.

  “Toothpaste,” Grace finished.

  Molly looked at the tube of travel-size toothpaste. “Clotrimazole . . . What is this?”

  “Athlete’s foot cream,” Grace said evenly.

  “Ugh!” Molly turned on the tap and rinsed out her mouth. Five times. It still didn’t feel like enough. “That stuff tastes nasty.”

  “Well, in all fairness, it’s not meant to go in the mouth.”

  “Did the tip come into contact with your foot? With your fungus?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Molly shuddered. She grabbed a washcloth and scraped her tongue with it. Disgusting. Well, at least her mouth didn’t taste like Adam now. It tasted like antifungal cream.

  Grace stared at Molly’s reflection in the mirror, one eyebrow raised.

  Molly capped the cream and made a point of moving it to the highest shelf of the vanity. “How ’bout we keep it up here from now on, hmm?”