In Too Deep (Wildfire Lake)

by Skye Jordan

  “Estonia.”

  “I don’t even think I could find that on a map,” I say, searching my mind to place the country.

  “Across from Finland,” she says.

  “You’re both so exotic. Since I took the job heading up the western hemisphere, I haven’t gotten to go anywhere new. I’m thinking that wasn’t such a good move for me. I miss Europe.”

  “Transfer back?” KT asks, scraping the last of the ice cream from the carton.

  I think of my parents and all the complaining I’d have to suffer through if I told them I wanted to go back to my previous job. I wouldn’t put it past them to create red tape to slow me down. “Complicated.”

  “Everything with your parents is complicated.” KT doesn’t hold much back. She never has. And after being tiptoed around because I’m the boss’s daughter, I always find her directness refreshing.

  “So true.”

  The sound of a car’s engine nears and a beat-up Mercedes chugs into the parking lot. We all get out of the car and meet Mr. Artega between the vehicles. He’s aged dramatically since I was here last, but haven’t we all? He used to be the janitor at Levi’s high school, and I met up with him a time or two when Levi and I would go ride bikes or skateboard there during the summer.

  He’s always been small in stature, but now he’s also stooped with age, and I feel like I tower over him at five foot seven. I stuff my frustration over the condition of the property. This isn’t the right time to bring it up, and he’s not exactly in good enough health to keep up the marina and all its needs, which means it’s really my father who made this mistake. Or me for trusting my father. Hardly a surprise.

  “Well, look at you,” he says, his moustache twitching as he speaks. “Didn’t you grow up pretty.”

  I smile and shake his hand. “I don’t want to keep you, so I’ll get right to it. My friends and I would like to stay on the houseboats for the week, and I wanted to know which ones are fit for visitors.”

  His bushy salt-and-pepper brows drop into a V. “Oh, well, now.” He turns toward the marina. “I don’t know. Let’s take a look.”

  He moves slow and talks a lot about nothing, but the three of us follow him onto the main dock, where houseboats are lined up on either side.

  He points to the first boat on the right. “Mabel Ann, here, she’s full of mold on accounta the leak in the roof.” He gestures left and ticks off three boats. “Linda Mae, Suzie Q, and Cora Lynn got electrical problems. You don’t wanna be foolin’ with no electrical problems on the water.” He points at two more boats on the right. “Sally Jean and Norma Claire ain’t got no furniture, so they won’t work for ya.”

  Laiyla hadn’t thought she could feel any worse, but the condition of the houseboats was atrocious.

  “Cecelia Rose’s got plumbing issues,” he went on. “Theresa Rene is being used for storage of water equipment, and Georgie Pie has cracked tanks.” They reach the end of the dock, and he faces the last boat in line with his hands on his hips. “Roxie Blue.” He nods, pulls a toothpick from a pocket, and sticks it into his mouth. “I reckon y’all could stay on Roxie Blue.”

  Roxie Blue is ancient. I can’t tell where the faded paint ends and the rust begins. The canopies on the decks are torn and threadbare. “If I’m remembering correctly, this model Sunfish only has one bedroom.”

  “Ah, yeah, but you got a pull-out in the salon and a screened-in porch. Plenty of room for three little fillies.”

  My shoulders slump, and I close my eyes on a sigh. When I was a kid, sure, I would have thought this was a castle. But I’m not a kid. I’m thirty years old—tomorrow—and I bust my ass at work, so I have a beautiful place to live in the city and comfortable accommodations on the road. This is the furthest thing from what I envisioned for my get-together with my best friends.

  “Mr. Artega,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “What happened to all the really nice boats my grandfather had? You know, the ones that were three stories with slides and big swim platforms?”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember. They were nice, for sure. He fixed ’em up and sold ’em to make way for new fixer-uppers. He liked to tinker, you know. Had a lot of time on his hands.” The older man scanned the boats. “A shame, really. He passed away before he had time to start on these.”

  That was just like Grandpa. Buy shitty boats, fix ’em up, and sell them. He made as much doing that as he did the rental business.

  Someone squeezes my arm. Chloe, wearing a sympathetic smile.

  Right beside her, KT nods, always seemingly in control. “It’s all good,” she says, then gets a playfully evil glint in her eyes and adds, “Give me a few hours with her, and she’ll feel like a yacht.”

  I break out in laughter. I laugh so hard, I double over and tears spill from my eyes. I’m resting my hands on my knees when I get control of myself again, and everyone is smiling.

  “Sure, okay, fine.” What the hell do I care? All I want is to be with KT and Chloe. I turn to Mr. Artega and walk him toward the parking lot. “Thank you. Will you be around this week? I’d like to get together with you and go over the condition of the property.”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He squeezes my hand and gives me a warm smile. “Sure thing.”

  When I return to the girls, KT’s got her arms crossed, her brow furrowed. “How’d these boats get their names?”

  I smile. “They’re all named after one of my grandfather’s many girlfriends.”

  “That is your first order of business,” KT says. “Change these old-lady names.”

  “Oh,” Chloe says, “we should totally give them amazing names, like Trinity and Sat Nam.”

  “Sat what?” I say.

  “Don’t ask,” KT says. “Just don’t ask.”

  4

  Levi

  I drag myself into Aiden’s Pub and search out Mitch. The place is busy with the dinner rush, but my partner is easy to find. He’s always got the rear corner booth.

  As I approach, someone behind me catches my arm, and I turn to face Tina, most definitely one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I deliberately pull away and put as much room between us as possible.

  “Hey.” I purposely don’t fake a smile. This woman will turn everything back on me in a heartbeat, and I can’t express how disappointed I am to see her in town after only three weeks away. “You’re back.”

  “Yep.” She gives me that cute smile, the one that’s got dirty undertones. “Dad’s up and about again.”

  “Good to hear.” I turn away and start toward Mitch, praying she lets it drop.

  “Sam Adams?”

  I cringe and cut a look over my shoulder.

  “I’ve got your table with Mitch,” she says.

  I’m just so fuckin’ lucky today, I can’t stand it. “Sam Adams.”

  I’m rolling my eyes when I slide into the booth opposite Mitch, who’s smirking.

  “Shut the hell up.” I drop the folder of invoices on the table.

  Mitch shakes his head. “She may be pretty on the outside, but she’s batshit crazy on the inside. I told you and told you and told you.”

  Mitch had, but I’d had an unusually long dry spell, way too much alcohol, and just wanted a warm body. That one-time fuck has been costing me for nearly a year. And, no, it hadn’t been worth it. “I really don’t want to hear that the rest of my life, dude. It was one time.”

  Mitch gives me a look that tells me he’s trying to puzzle me out. “Other than Tina, what’s buggin’ you?”

  Tina drops off the beer with a flourish. She leans her hip against the table and twirls a piece of her long, dirty-blonde hair around her finger. “I’d love to get together. When can we make that happen?”

  “It won’t happen. We’ve been over this. It will never happen.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” Tina puts her hand out, wiggling her fingers. “You owe me twenty bucks and a twelve-pack of Firestone Walker IPA.”

  I was drunk when I made that bet t
oo. It was after Otto died and everyone in town was both reeling from the loss and worried about the future of such a big, valuable piece of land in their community.

  Disgusted, angry, I lean back and reach for my wallet, but Mitch slaps the table. “No.”

  His bark is all for Tina, but she snarls right back. “A bet is a bet, and he lost—I knew the ice princess would come back someday, even if it was only to sell the place. I’d be willing to go double or nothing, but we’d have to renegotiate those terms. Let’s guess how long she’ll stay. That pampered princess won’t make it a week.” She leans in with an all-knowing expression. “Even if you rekindle things, she’ll just dump you again. If you expect a princess to settle in a commoner’s village for a man, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mitch says.

  “Terry, from the market, told me two out-of-towners came in and were talking about the marina and seeing Laiyla.”

  Mitch’s jaw drops. I ignore the burn of his gaze. All I can think about is the look on Laiyla’s face when she heard about Otto’s cabin.

  “I’m not doing this.” I pull out my wallet and look through the fold. “Shit. I don’t have a twenty.” I look at Mitch. “Spot me, man. I want this over.”

  “You’re not getting any money here,” Mitch tells Tina. “Now get the fuck away from this table and stay away, or I’ll have a private talk with Craig, and you’ll be out of a job.”

  God damn, I love this man.

  “You oughta tell that wifey of yours you need more sex,” she says to Mitch, “or better sex.”

  Mitch and I surge to our feet at the same time—him to get in Tina’s face, me to get in between them.

  “You’re so fucking gone,” Mitch says.

  “Give me a time frame,” Tina says, hands up in surrender, backing away from the table. “I’ll leave you be.”

  “A month,” I spit out, one hand against Mitch’s chest.

  “A month?” She laughs. “You’re such a fool. The day she leaves before this time next month is the day I’ll be collecting.”

  “Go,” I tell her, “or I’m gonna let him loose.”

  She sashays away, singing the chorus to “Layla,” by Eric Clapton. “Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging, darlin’ please. Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind…”

  My teeth are grinding when I sit down again.

  Mitch’s fingers are flying across the face of his phone. “God, I hate that bitch. This is the only decent place to eat, and she ruins it every fucking time.”

  It wasn’t the only decent place to eat in town, it was just Mitch’s favorite. “You can’t let her get under your skin. What are you doing?”

  “Texting Craig.” He puts the phone down and pins me with a look, part curiosity part concern. “Is it true? Is she here?”

  I drop my elbows on the table, exhale, and rub my face with both hands.

  “Ah, fuck,” Mitch says with more compassion than frustration. Mitch always liked Laiyla. Until, of course, she bailed, but even then, his dislike was only in solidarity toward me.

  I drop my hands and sit back. “I’m fine,” I lie. “It’s nothing. Tina’s right, she’ll be gone in a matter of days. Hell, she could have blown out of town already.”

  The idea that she might already be gone again feels like a hole in my chest.

  Mitch just spins his beer bottle, waiting until I’m ready to talk.

  I have to finish half my beer before I share the story. I still laugh when I tell him about the dock going out from underneath her, then sober when I describe how she responded to the news of Otto’s house.

  “She said it was her father who hired Artega to watch the marina,” I tell Mitch.

  “And we all know how much her parents love this place.”

  “I guess that explains a lot.” I force my mind back to business. “We gonna go over these or what?”

  Mitch shakes his head and collects the forms and papers he has spread across the table. “This is more important.”

  “I’ve already told you all there is to tell. That’s all I got.”

  Mitch evens up the papers against the table and slides them into a folder, drops it on top of the one I brought, and stuffs them both into a portfolio. “You told me what happened. You didn’t tell me all the important stuff.”

  “Like?”

  “How you feel about seeing her. What you two talked about. If you’re going to see her again.”

  “Don’t be such a girl.”

  “Don’t be a such a prick.”

  I grin. “She called me a prick too.”

  “You’ve always had a way with women.”

  A few silent moments pass. We sip our beers and stare at the table, lost in thought.

  “What’s she like now?” Mitch finally asks. “All slick and citied up?”

  I give a one-shouldered shrug. “Not really. Maybe. I don’t know. She was driving a sweet BMW.”

  Mitch nods, waits.

  I haven’t been able to stop replaying the afternoon in my head. “She was trying for a getaway with some girlfriends. They’ve already probably taken off in search of a hotel.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you believe that.”

  “There was just something about how she reacted to the state of the marina and the news about Otto’s house. I’m probably reading too much into it. If she cared about the place, she would have come back sooner, right?”

  “Does she still look like she did when she was a kid?”

  “In some ways, I guess.” Just remembering the sight of her makes my stomach ache. “Who the fuck am I kidding? She’s gorgeous. Fucking stunning and sexy, and she’s still got that sassy mouth. Just my luck.”

  Mitch chuckles.

  “I told her if she’s going to sell to call me first.”

  Mitch’s brows shoot up. “And?”

  “She didn’t think I could afford it.”

  That makes Mitch drop his head back and laugh. “Did you tell her?”

  “Hell, no. I don’t have anything to prove.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

  “I don’t,” I insist. “Besides, it’s not going to make any difference to her. But that property would be really nice in our portfolio.”

  Mitch nods. “Control over that part of the lake would pump up the value of Whisper Cove homes at least two hundred grand each. Not to mention be good for you personally and the community at large.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Think she’ll follow through?”

  “If there is anything I know for sure about that woman, it’s that she’s going to do what I least expect. I’ll circle back, and if she’s still here, I’ll make sure she knows I’m serious about the property.”

  “Are you circling back for the property or the girl?”

  I finish my beer. “If we’re not going to work, I’m going to hit the grocery store before I head to my parents’.”

  It’s a short walk to the local market. My mind tangles around the confrontation with Tina and my time with Laiyla, but it’s Tina’s surety that Laiyla won’t last a week here that’s sticking and replaying in my head. Right along with “she’ll just dump you again.” What bothers me the most isn’t Tina’s snarky attitude or her disdain for Laiyla, it’s that the truth rings through. Along with the princess and commoner language.

  I hate to admit that Tina is right, but damn, she made valid points.

  I push through the front doors of the market and greet the checkers, both of whom I went to school with. I head toward the bakery, feeling heavy. Then I stand there and stare at the desserts, but I don’t see the cakes and pies and cookies. I see Laiyla as she was on the dock, before she dunked. Her sleek body with a few new curves. The more mature angles of her beautiful face.

  “I don’t even know where anything is in the grocery store anymore.” The voice comes from a distance, but it sings through every
cell in my body. Laiyla.

  I’m frustrated and thrilled, all at the same time. I grab a strawberry shortcake, then start toward her voice. I peer down an aisle and see all three women wandering the other direction, so I slip into the next aisle over and mirror their path.

  “Seriously,” Laiyla says, “I can’t believe they don’t have Amazon Prime delivery here. I feel like I’ve rolled back into the dark ages.”

  The other women laugh and call her melodramatic and spoiled. “What do you say we divide and conquer,” one of the other girls says. “I’m still on Tibetan time, and I’m fading fast.”

  Tibetan time? I don’t know if that truly means she came from Tibet or if that’s some sort of in joke between them, but they agree, and the aisle goes quiet. The fact that Laiyla’s still here and grocery shopping is a good sign she’s staying around, and my stomach lifts the way it does just as a roller coaster takes a dive.

  Get the fuck out of here, my mind is screaming. You don’t need any more heartache from this woman.

  Instead, I grab the shittiest six-pack of beer I can find from a cooler on the wall and turn into Laiyla’s aisle. She looks like she’s showered after her dunk in the lake, her hair straight, the top layer shining like spun gold, and she’s changed into something I suppose could be classified as a dress. Orange with white daisies all over, sleeveless with cutouts on the sides above the waist and a central tie in back, the little outfit exposes all kinds of amazing skin and so much of those long legs, I’m pretty sure her ass is covered by no more than an inch of fabric. And she’s wearing white sandals that tie in crisscrosses around her ankles, which I find ridiculously sexy.

  At the opposite end of the aisle, Tim Dunphy approaches Laiyla with so much focused menace, he doesn’t notice me.

  Laiyla’s leaning on the handle of her shopping cart, staring at the shelves of tea and coffee, and she looks up when Dunphy is about ten feet away. Her spine stiffens, but she doesn’t hide behind the cart or scurry away. She holds a posture that screams I can take anything you dish out, shoulders back, chin up, gaze direct.

  “Mr. Dunphy,” she says, polite but formal.