by Anna Lewis
“Hi,” Lara answered back, hoping her smile was as genuine as the man’s. “I am Lara Forbes, and I do actually exist.”
“Wow, looks like I lost a bet back at the office,” he replied.
“You bet that I didn’t exist?” Lara asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Nah,” the man replied, “I bet that you wouldn’t be this pretty.” His soft brown eyes widened as the words left his mouth. “Ah, that came out wrong—” The man tried to explain, but Lara just laughed.
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I get it. Single lady owns an old family cabin deep in the woods, everyone expects her to be a spinster or a cat lady.”
The man shrugged and scratched the base of his neck with one rough hand. “Okay, this is not going the way I’d hoped.” He paused, then reached his hand out again. “Killian Donaldson,” he said, more formally than before. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Forbes.”
“It’s Lara, just Lara,” she said, returning the handshake yet again. It was as firm as the first one. Lara would be fine if they entered into an endless loop of introductions and handshakes, provided that meant she could keep touching Killian’s strong hand.
Bret had hands like cold, dead fish, she thought, then banished the thought from her mind. The entire point of this trip was to forget Bret. She couldn’t let him ruin this nice moment with the handsome tree man, she wouldn’t.
Killian was talking again and Lara gratefully let her attention wander away from her absent boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) and back to the present.
“So, Lara, how long has it been since you’ve been up to Winter’s Lake?” Killian asked as he popped her trunk and began removing her luggage.
“Oh, god, I’m not even sure,” she said. “It’s been ages, I think. Five, maybe ten years? You don’t need to get my bags, actually—”
Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, Ms. Forbes—Lara. I can’t stand around and let a lady unload her own luggage. That would be terribly rude of me.”
Another difference from LA, where Lara had almost been run over in a grocery store parking lot by a man who’d been too busy texting and pushing his shopping cart to notice Lara struggling to load a case of sparkling water into her trunk. To be honest, that man was Lara’s terrible boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?). To be even more honest, he’d snapped at Lara for getting in his way. She truly had no idea what she saw in Bret. At least now she wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more. Maybe forever.
“I can at least grab a few things,” Lara insisted, snagging an overnight bag that was perched precariously on top of the pile of luggage in Killian’s arms. Lara was duly impressed by his ability to manage an entire trunkful of bags and suitcases in one armful.
“All right, I think I can allow that,” Killian said, voice muffled by the stack of Lara’s possessions blocking his face.
After they’d loaded Lara’s things into the cabin, Killian insisted on giving her a guided tour. “You haven’t been here in ages,” he explained. “I want to make sure you’ve got a good lay of the land.”
He extended his arm chivalrously, and Lara took it by the crook of his elbow. “Lead on, then.”
The cabin had, for the most part, remained unchanged from what Lara remembered from her childhood. The ugly green sofa was still there, as was the antler wreath on the wall. The bunk bed had been replaced, as she’d expected, by a large queen sized bed, and the kitchen had new, stainless steel appliances.
There were also thick metal bars over all the windows. Lara did not remember that.
“There’s been some aggressive wildlife in the area,” Killian explained, brown eyes darting away from Lara. “It’s not a big deal, most of the cabins up here have protective covering on the windows.”
Protective covering?
Killian must have noticed Lara’s worried expression, because he moved his arm up and wrapped it around her narrow shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about, Lara, I promise. Just better safe than sorry, right?”
She nodded, enjoying his arm around her shoulder a bit more than she should. “Better safe than sorry. Exactly.”
Killian led her outside to finish the rest of the tour. The cabin was simple: two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a kitchen. Outside, there was a hammock strung between two pine trees, a fire pit and a picnic table. The area immediately surrounding the cabin—it couldn’t really be called a “yard”—was cleared into a little open space, but the woods loomed densely at the edge of the clearing.
“There’s a cabin just up the road there,” Killian pointed back the way Lara had come, “but it’s empty for the season. If you need anything, you just call me, okay?”
“My phone doesn’t work up here,” Lara explained.
“Cabin’s got a landline,” Killian said, laughing. “I know, seems like an ancient relic, but that’s all we can use up here.”
Lara nodded.
“My number’s written up there by the phone,” he continued. “Don’t hesitate to call.” His eyes flicked through the dark woods. “I mean it, Lara, you call me anytime.”
“I will,” Lara said, a little worried by his concern. “I’ll call.”
“Okay, good,” Killian smiled again. Lara was beginning to love that charming, toothy grin. “Hey, I didn’t unload any groceries, did I?”
“Oof, no,” Lara shrugged. “I was in such a big hurry to get out of LA that I didn’t exactly stop and pick up provisions.”
“Well, the market’s closed,” Killian said, checking his watch. “Everything in town pretty much closes down early on Sunday. The restaurant’s open, though. I’m grabbing dinner there tonight, and you’re welcome to join me.”
Lara smiled. “Sure, I’d love to. Which restaurant?”
“The restaurant, Lara, it’s called ‘Dusty’s,’” Killian explained. “We’ve only got one.”
Okay. Yet another big difference from LA, which had trendy bistros and dozens of food trucks crammed into every city block.
“All right, well. I guess I’ll meet you at the restaurant in a little bit. Seven?” Lara said.
“Seven sounds good,” Killian replied, hopping into his battered Jeep. “See you there.”
“See you there,” Lara said, waving as he pulled down the driveway.
As the sound of Killian’s tires faded down the gravel path, the silence of the forest descended on Lara. A bird chirped. Insects buzzed. Winds whistled through the thick pine trees.
Lara exhaled, and collapsed shakily into one of the wooden chairs on the porch. Thank god for peace and quiet.
* * *
Lara decided to walk in to the restaurant for dinner. The town of Winter’s Lake was only about a mile or so from her cabin via the rutted, bumpy country road, and the walk was even shorter. If she took the path along the lakeshore that wound through the woods, it was only about three quarters of a mile.
The fall wind tugged at Lara’s short blond bob and whipped strands of carefully highlighted hair across her face. She let her hair be messy, enjoying the freedom to not be perfect for a moment. LA was hundreds of miles away and, if she was being honest, Lara had never felt better.
Her booted feet crushed the red autumn leaves that lined the path. The boots had already been at the cabin, a throwback from her younger days when her feet had been the same size but her spirit had been more outdoorsy and carefree.
Young, twenty-something Lara had loved to run around these hills, climbing trees and wading in the lake. Older, thirty-five year old Lara rarely even looked up from her phone as she crossed busy city intersections. Did her street in LA have trees? She couldn’t remember. Bret paid a gardener, but Lara wasn’t exactly sure what for. Did they even have flowers?
Lara took a deep breath and tried to remember her yard back home in Los Angeles. She couldn’t. There was a terra cotta path that led up from the street and she vaguely remembered some bushes. The house was Bret’s and she’d lived there for years, but she had never really made her mark on the place. He’d picked out
the furniture long before she’d moved in and her belongings were primarily confined to a closet upstairs and one corner of the small home office.
Once she’d asked if they could think about replacing the old, obnoxiously masculine black leather sofas, and Bret had nearly bitten her head off. She should have known they weren’t meant to last.
Lara and Bret had been dating since college and, frankly, she’d always been surprised that he’d stuck with her for so long. Bret was ambitious—he was an entertainment lawyer and had been slaving away to build his practice almost the entire time she’d known him—and Lara always thought that he’d leave her for an actress or singer.
She had no idea what he saw in her, a quiet art major turned wedding photographer. Lara was pretty, Lara was nice, but Lara always expected Bret to cheat on her with someone more glamorous.
Lara was right.
The woods teemed with life around her. A rabbit hopped down the path. Lara exhaled, still shaking with the anger and surprise of the discovery of Bret’s infidelity. It had only been two days ago, but it felt like a lifetime.
She’d gotten a surprisingly romantic text from Bret early Friday afternoon. I can’t wait to see you tonight, he’d written. Pull your panties off, turn you around and do you across the kitchen counter.
Lara had been impressed and a little confused. She didn’t think they had plans that night. Bret had grown so distant lately, it was a pleasant surprise to get something so sexy from him. Then the next text had pinged in. I’m telling L that I’m working late. Shhhh. Can’t wait to see you, baby.
She had calmly set her phone down on the kitchen counter and promptly burst into years. When Bret arrived home a few hours later, her things were packed and her Honda was loaded.
He’d been painfully nonchalant about the whole thing. “Oh, you found out about Kate, huh?” he’d said, staring at her without even removing his mirrored sunglasses. “I guess it’s probably time for you and I to take a break. I mean, we’ve been together forever.”
A break? Lara stomped through the woods, crushing leaves and snapping twigs. A break?! She had given him the last fifteen years of her life, devoted everything to their relationship, and all he could say was “It’s time for you and I to take a break?”
When they’d graduated from college and she’d followed him to LA so he could go to law school, he’d promised that they’d get engaged as soon as possible. When she worked her ass off to pay their rent while he was a student, he swore that, as soon as he had enough money for a ring, they’d make it official. When he was brought on as a junior partner at his firm, he said that he’d propose as soon as he was made a partner. He’d been a partner for five years now.
Every time she brought up the idea of getting married, he’d always promised that he’d do it soon, that he wanted to make it special. That was ages ago and there was still no ring on her finger.
And there probably never would be, considering that he was a lying, cheating, dismissive bastard.
Lara sighed, her sad exhalation echoing through the empty woods. It was a lonely sound, longing and sadness reverberating through the silent trees.
Silence. Lara froze. She’d played in these woods throughout her whole childhood and had never known them to be silent. They were often quiet, but there was always something—the chattering of birds, the scuffling of squirrels, buzzing of insects—to fill the forest air.
But now there was nothing. It was as if the entire forest had gone on lockdown.
“Hello?” Lara called, feeling silly and then feeling ashamed of feeling silly. If there was someone there, they’d understand why she’d shouted. If there wasn’t anyone there, then there would be no one to judge her. However, if there wasn’t someone but something out in the woods, maybe the sound of her voice would scare it away.
A twig snapped behind her and Lara whirled around.
There was nothing.
A twig snapped again, this time on the other side of the path. Lara wheeled back and, this time, there was someone there.
A broad-shouldered, black haired man stood just off the path, looming over Lara. Hours ago, she’d thought Killian was the largest man she’d ever seen up close, but this man’s sheer size and bulk dwarfed him. There was something about this man that reminded Lara of her property manager: maybe it was the way his taut muscles pushed the limits of his red plaid shirt; maybe it was the similarity of his rough hewn features; perhaps it was something hungry twinkling down in the depths of his ice blue eyes.
“Are you lost?” the man asked, his eyes trailing up Lara’s slim figure. His voice was a low growl and Lara involuntarily trembled in the cool fall air. She really should have brought a coat.
Lara smiled, hoping that she looked the right amount of confident. “No, I’m good,” she answered, forcing a falsely sunny tone. “I’m just heading into town to meet a friend for dinner.”
The forest stayed silent as the man seemed to ponder this. He took a quick step toward Lara, then inhaled quickly, almost a sniff. “You’re meeting Killian, huh?” he asked, grin fading into a smirk.
“How did you know that?” Lara demanded.
“It’s a small town,” the man shrugged. “Everybody knows everybody’s business.”
“Guess I’d better get used to it.”
“Why? You staying long?” The black haired man’s smile was back. That was something else that reminded Lara of Killian: the sharpness of his smile.
She just shrugged. “Who knows? I’m a city girl, but it turns out city people suck, so… maybe I’ll give small town life a try for a while.”
“You should. But I warn you,” the man said. “Winter’s Lake is pretty damn small, even for a small town.
“I doubt it could be worse than LA,” Lara replied.
“Well, we’ll see about that, miss,” the man said. “I’m Russell, by the way. Russ, if you like.”
“Thanks, Russell,” Lara said, refusing to use the nickname. There was something about Russ that made her uncomfortable, something predatory. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet a friend for dinner.”
Much to Lara’s dismay, Russ wasn’t satisfied with simply allowing her walk alone into town. He immediately began strolling at her side, shortening his long steps to match her fast, short ones.
Lara walked in silence and Russ picked up her cue. They were nearly to the restaurant before either of them spoke again.
“Thanks for the escort,” Lara said, but Russ completely missed her sarcasm.
“Not a problem,” he replied, opening the door and gesturing gallantly inside.
Lara stepped through the door into the dimly lit restaurant. It was more of a rustic bar and grill than a proper restaurant. A long wooden bar lined one wall and a pool table—occupied by two bearded locals—stood in the corner under a dinged aluminum lamp. There was a series of wooden booths tucked along one wall and, in the last one, sat Killian. His face lit up when he saw Lara and he began to rise, but then his expression darkened.
Lara couldn’t begin to imagine what the problem was, until she glanced behind her and noticed that Russ had entered the bar behind her, looming too close to her to make them look like strangers.
“Hey!” she shouted at Killian, waving cheerfully and trying to turn his sour expression around.
She failed at this.
Killian only nodded his chin in her direction and then sank sadly back into the booth.
Lara wheeled around on Russ. “Could you leave us alone for a minute? Please?”
It would have been common courtesy to say yes, so Lara was shocked when Russ answered with a curt no and pushed past her to join Killian in his booth.
Killian didn’t say anything, just glowered up at Russ. Lara joined them, pushing into Killian’s side and scooting close to him, her face a near imitation of Killian’s glare.
Russ seemed unperturbed. “So,” he said. “What brings you to Winter’s Lake, Lara?”
“I was trying to get some peace and quie
t,” she replied pointedly. “Any chance you could leave us alone so I can achieve that?”
Killian’s soft brown eyes widened and the smallest grin peeked out of the corner of his mouth. Lara instinctively reached under the table and squeezed his hand.
Russ didn’t pay any attention to Lara’s rudeness, he just set both elbows onto the scratched wooden surface of the table and leaned toward them, looming into Lara and Killian’s space. “You’re new here, Lara, so I’m going to lay things out for you: this is my town and I do what I want. If I want to have dinner with our newest guest and one of my oldest, dearest friends, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
Lara looked confused. “Friends?”
Killian’s miserable expression seemed to signify that they were anything but friends.
“Killian and I are like brothers, aren’t we, Killian?” Russ asked.
Killian smiled sourly. “I guess that’s a good way to put it. You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.”
This puzzled Lara. The two men were not related, they looked far too different for that. But there were some faint similarities: the sharp, toothy smiles; their enormous size; the graceful, prowling way that they both moved. They weren’t related, but maybe there was something in the water up there in Winter’s Lake that made for big, homegrown boys.
Russ wasn’t done. “Killian,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I was thinking that I’d like to get to know Lara here a little better. Why do you give us some time to ourselves?”
Lara laughed, expecting Killian to follow suit. But he just dropped his eyes to the table, nodded, and pushed past Lara to get out of their booth.
Right before he walked away, he turned back around and managed a low farewell to Lara. “Bye,” he muttered gruffly. “Sorry I wasn’t a better dinner companion. Have fun with Russ.”
It only took him a few long strides to cross the bar and reach the door, letting it slam behind him.
Russ watched Killian slink away, ice blue eyes gleaming in the low light of the bar. He leaned back, satisfied, against the wall of the booth and tucked his hands up behind his head. “Well,” he said. “Why don’t we have some fun?”