I seemed to reach the part of my TBR pile where the
make-me-cry books were hiding.
The emotions of the characters are so vividly portrayed that
I was reduced to a cry baby several times, a couple times not even realizing it
until I realized I was blowing my nose. Mrs. Warren did an outstanding job with this book.
This is the first book in a six-book series.
Darek Christiansen is a single father, former-fire fighter
turned lodge-owner-to-be. Ivy Madison is the new assistant county attorney who
moves into the small town of Deep Haven. Having been shuffled around to
fourteen foster homes as a child, she’s looking to establish roots and make a
home for herself. The two meet when Darek acts a stand-in for his brother in an
auction. No one bids on him and Ivy feels sorry for him, so she makes the
winning (only) bid for him.
In Ivy, Darek sees a chance at a family for his son and a
chance to be the kind of husband he should have been to his first wife, Felicity.
In Darek, Ivy sees the chance for a family and a sense of belonging. Their
relationship develops and Ivy finds out that something she did in the past
could come between them when he finds out. Because of proposal she made during
her last year of law school, Jensen, Darek’s former best friend who killed
Felicity in an auto accident, was placed on probation and allowed to perform
community service in lieu of going to prison.
During the course of the story, we see a rekindling of a
friendship between Jensen and Claire. Since they were young, Claire loved
Jensen, but believed he loved Felicity. Jensen loved Claire, but fell prey to
Felicity’s charms and a competitive spirit where Darek was concerned. The two
help each other work through their own internal struggles about themselves and this
allows them to come closer together while Jensen struggles to complete the
number of community service hours dictated in his probation agreement or else
get sent to prison for four years.
We also see a fight for custody for Tiger, Darek and
Felicity’s young son. Felicity’s mother has never forgiven Darek for getting
her daughter pregnant and still grieving for the loss of her daughter and has
waged a battle to prove Darek an unfit parent.
These interwoven stories are set against a message of love
and faith in God. There were a couple of conversations about God and his love
that I thought were a bit preachy, but in the context they were set in, they
was realistic. Several times, those conversations touched me personally, giving
me comfort.
Chapter
1
Ivy Madison would do just about
anything to stay in the secluded, beautiful, innocent town of Deep Haven.
Even if she had to buy a man.
A bachelor, to be exact,
although maybe not the one currently standing on the stage of the Deep Haven
Emergency Services annual charity auction. He looked like a redneck from the
woolly woods of northern Minnesota, with curly dark-blond hair, a skim of
whiskers on his face, and a black T-shirt that read, Hug a logger—you’ll
never go back to trees. Sure, he filled out his shirt and looked the part
in a pair of ripped jeans and boots, but he wore just a little too much “Come
and get me, girls,” in his smile.
The auctioneer on stage knew
how to work his audience. He regularly called out names from the crowd to
entice them to bid. And apparently the town of Deep Haven loved their
firefighters, EMTs, and cops because the tiny VFW was packed, the waitresses
running out orders of bacon cheeseburgers and hot wings to the bidding crowd.
After the show was over, a
local band would take the stage. The auction was part of the summer solstice
festival—the first of many summer celebrations Deep Haven hosted. Frankly it
felt like the village dreamed up events to lure tourists, but Ivy counted it as
her welcoming party.
Oh, how she loved this town.
And she’d only lived here for roughly a day. Imagine how she’d love it by the
end of the summer, after she’d spent three months learning the names of locals,
investing herself into this lakeside hamlet.
Her days of hitching her measly
worldly possessions—four hand-me-down suitcases; a loose cardboard box of
pictures; a garbage bag containing The Elements of Legal Style, How
to Argue and Win Every Time, and To Kill a Mockingbird; and most of
all, her green vintage beach bike—onto the back of her red Nissan Pathfinder
were over.
Time to put down roots. Make
friends.
Okay, buying a friend
didn’t exactly qualify, but the fact that her money would go to help the local
emergency services seemed like a good cause. And if Ivy had learned anything
growing up in foster care, it was that a person had to work the system to get
what she wanted.
She should be unpacking; she
started work in the morning. But how long would it take, really, to settle into
the tiny, furnished efficiency apartment over the garage behind the Footstep of
Heaven Bookstore? And with her new job as assistant county attorney, she
expected to have plenty of free time. So when the twilight hues of evening had
lured her into the romance of a walk along the shoreline of the Deep Haven
harbor, she couldn’t stop herself.
She couldn’t remember the last
time she’d taken a lazy walk, stopping at storefronts, reading the real estate
ads pasted to the window of a local office.
Cute, two-bedroom log cabin
on Poplar Lake. She could imagine the
evergreen smell nudging her awake every morning, the twitter of cardinals and
sparrows as she took her cup of coffee on the front porch.
Except she loved the bustle of
the Deep Haven hamlet. Nestled on the north shore of Minnesota, two hours from
the nearest hint of civilization, the fishing village–turned–tourist hideaway
had enough charm to sweet-talk Ivy out of her Minneapolis duplex and make her
dream big.
Dream of home, really. A place.
Friends. Maybe even a dog. And here, in a town where everyone belonged, she
would too.
She had wandered past the fudge
and gift shop, past the walk-up window of World’s Best
Donuts,
where the smell of cake donuts nearly made her follow her sweet tooth inside.
At the corner, the music drew her near to the VFW. Ford F-150s, Jeeps, and a
handful of SUVs jammed the postage-size dirt parking lot.
She’d stopped at the entrance,
reading the poster for today’s activities, then peered in through the windows.
Beyond a wood-paneled bar and a host of long rectangular tables, a man stood on
the stage, holding up a fishing pole.
And that’s when Deep Haven reached
out and hooked her.
“Are you going in?”
She’d turned toward the voice
and seen a tall, solidly built middle-aged man with dark hair, wearing a jean
jacket. A blonde woman knit her hand into his.
“I . . .”
“C’mon in,” the woman said. “We
promise not to bite. Well, except for Eli here. I make no promises with him.”
She had smiled, winked, and Ivy could feel her heart gulp it whole. Oh, why had
she never learned to tamp down her expectations? Life had taught her better.
Eli shook his head, gave the woman
a fake growl. Turned to Ivy. “Listen, it’s for a good cause. Our fire
department could use a new engine, and the EMS squad needs more training for
their staff, what few there are. You don’t have to buy anything, but you might
help drive up the bids.” He winked. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that,
though.”
She laughed. “I’m Ivy Madison,”
she said, too much enthusiasm in her voice. “Assistant county attorney.”
“Of course you are. I should
have guessed. Eli and Noelle Hueston.” Noelle stuck out her hand. “Eli’s the
former sheriff. Hence the fact that we’ve come with our checkbook. C’mon, I’ll
tell you who to bid on.”
Who to bid on?
Ivy had followed them inside,
taking a look around the crowded room. Pictures of soldiers hung in metal
frames, along with listings of member names illuminated by neon bar signs. The
smells of deep-fried buffalo wings, beer, and war camaraderie were embedded in
the dark-paneled walls.
A line formed around the pool
table near the back of the room—what looked like former glory-day athletes
lined up with their beers or colas parked on the round tables. Two men threw
darts into an electronic board.
Then her gaze hiccuped on a man
sitting alone near the jukebox, sending a jolt of familiarity through her.
Jensen Atwood.
For a moment, she considered
talking to him—not that he’d know her, but maybe she’d introduce herself, tell
him, I’m the one who put together your amazing plea agreement. Yes, that
had been a hot little bit of legalese. The kind that had eventually landed her
right here, in her dream job, dream town.
But Noelle glanced back and
nodded for Ivy to follow, so she trailed behind them to an open table.
“Every year, on the last night
of the solstice festival, we have a charity auction. It’s gotten to be quite an
event,” Noelle said, gesturing to a waitress. She came over and Eli ordered a
basket of wings, a couple chocolate malts. Ivy asked for a Coke.
“What do they auction?”
“Oh, fishing gear. Boats.
Snowblowers. Sometimes vacation time-shares in Cancún. Whatever people want to
put up for charity. But this year, they have something special on the
agenda.”
Noelle leaned close, her eyes twinkling. Ivy already liked her. And the way Eli
had her hand wrapped in his. What might it be like to be in love like that?
That kind of love . . . well, Ivy had only so many wishes, and she’d flung them
all at living here, in Deep Haven.
“What?” Ivy asked.
“They’re auctioning off the
local bachelors.”
And as if on cue, that’s when
the lumberjack bachelor had taken the stage.
Ivy sipped her Coke, watching
the frenzy.
“So are you going to bid?”
Noelle asked.
Ivy raised a shoulder.
The lumberjack went for two
hundred dollars, too rich for Ivy’s blood, to a woman wearing a moose antler
headband. He flexed for her as he walked off stage, and the crowd erupted.
A clean-cut, handsome young man
took the stage next, to the whoops of the younger crowd down front. “That’s my
son,” Noelle said, clearly enjoying the spectacle. He seemed about nineteen or
twenty, tall and wearing a University of Minnesota, Duluth, T-shirt. He was
built like an athlete and had a swagger to match.
“He plays basketball for the
UMD Bulldogs,” Noelle said. She placed the first bid and got a glare from the
young man on stage.
A war started between factions
in the front row. “Should I bid?” Ivy asked. Not that she would know what to do
with a bachelor ten years younger than her. Maybe she could get him to mow her
lawn.
“No. Save your money for Owen
Christiansen.”
Probably another lumberjack
from the woods, with a flannel shirt and the manners of a grizzly. Ivy affected
a sort of smile.
“Maybe you’ve heard of him? He
plays hockey for the Minnesota Wild.”
“No, sorry.”
“He’s something of a local
celebrity. Played for our hometown team and then got picked up by the Wild
right after high school.”
“I’m not much of a hockey fan.”
“Honey, you can’t live in Deep
Haven and not be a hockey fan.” Noelle grinned, turning away as the wings
arrived.
Ivy ignored the way the words
found tender space and stabbed her in the chest. But see, she wanted to live in
Deep Haven . . .
Noelle offered her a wing, but
Ivy turned it down. “Owen’s parents, John and Ingrid Christiansen, run a resort
about five miles out of town. It’s one of the legacy resorts—his
great-grandfather settled here in the early nineteen hundreds and set up a
logging camp. It eventually turned into one of the hot recreation spots on the
north shore, although in today’s economy, they’re probably struggling along
with the rest of the Deep Haven resorts. I’m sure Owen’s appearance on the
program is a bid for some free publicity. Owen is the youngest son of the clan,
one of six children. I’m sure you’ll meet them—all but two still live in Deep
Haven.”
A redhead won the bachelor on stage
and ran up to claim her purchase. Ivy escaped to the ladies’ room.
What if she did bid on Owen?
Truly, the last thing she needed in her life was a real bachelor. Someone she
might fall for, someone who could so easily break her heart.
Maybe she could ask said
bachelor to show her around Deep Haven. Teach her about hockey. Certainly it
might give her a little social clout to be seen with the town celebrity.
She could faintly hear the
announcer stirring up the fervor for the next contestant, then a
trickle
of applause for the main attraction as he took the stage. She walked out,
standing by the bar to survey this hometown hero.
They grew them big up here in
the north woods. Indeed, he looked like a hockey champion, with those wide
shoulders, muscular arms stretching the sleeves of his deep-green shirt that
read Evergreen Resort—memories that live forever. He stood at ease like
one might do in the military, wearing jeans that hugged his legs all the way
down to the work boots on his feet. The man looked like an impenetrable
fortress, not a hint of marketing in his face. So much for winning the
audience.
In fact, to use the only hockey
term she knew, he looked like he’d just been checked hard into the boards and
come up with some sort of permanent scowl, none too happy to be standing in the
middle of the stage of the local VFW as the main attraction.
“C’mon, everyone, who will
start the bidding for our Deep Haven bachelor tonight?”
Ivy looked around the room. It
had hushed to a pin-drop silence, something not quite right simmering in the
air. She glanced over to where Jensen Atwood had been sitting and found his
seat vacant.
On stage, the man swallowed.
Shifted. Pursed his lips. Oh, poor Owen. Her heart knocked her hard in the
chest. She knew exactly what it felt like not to be wanted.
“One hundred dollars? Who has
it tonight for our local hero?”
She scanned the room, saw
patrons looking away as if embarrassed. Even Eli and Noelle had taken a sudden
interest in their dinner.
Owen sighed and shook his head.
And right then, the pain of the
moment squeezed the words from Ivy’s chest. “Five hundred dollars!”
Every eye turned toward her,
and for a moment, she had the crazy but horribly predictable urge to flee. But
the words were out, so she took a step forward, toward the stage. “I bid five
hundred dollars,” she said again, fighting the wobble in her voice.
Ivy shot a look at Noelle,
expecting approval. But Noelle wore an expression of what she could only
pinpoint as panic. Wasn’t she the one who’d suggested Ivy buy the man?
And then from the stage, she
heard, “Well, that’s good enough for me! Sold, to the pretty lady in the white
jacket. Miss, come up to the stage and claim your prize.”
Still, no one said a word—not a
cheer, not a gasp, nothing. Ivy swallowed and met the eyes of the man on stage.
“I’ll meet him by the bar,” she said, her voice small.
Owen looked as relieved as she
was that they didn’t have to create some public spectacle. He moved off the
stage and the auctioneer mercifully introduced the band. The men in back
resumed their pool playing.
Ivy couldn’t help it. She edged
over to Noelle. “What’s the matter? I know he looks a little rough around the
edges, but—”
“That’s not Owen,” Noelle said,
wiping her fingers with a napkin. She shot a glance past Ivy, possibly at the
stranger she’d just purchased.
“What?”
“Owen couldn’t make it. That’s
Darek Christiansen. His big brother.”
Ivy turned now, found her man
weaving his way through the crowd. He didn’t stop to glad-hand anyone or even
slap friends on the back.
In fact, it seemed she’d
purchased the pariah of Deep Haven.
Noelle confirmed it. “Brace
yourself, honey. You’ve just purchased the most ineligible eligible bachelor in
town.”
***
Everything inside Darek told
him to keep going, right on out of the VFW until he hit his Jeep, and then
punch the gas toward the hills.
And hide.
He would murder Owen next time
he saw him, which wouldn’t be anytime soon, given the kid’s celebrity demands. Sorry,
Bro. I can’t make it up today—I have a photo shoot. Owen couldn’t have
thought ahead to that, maybe rearranged his oh-so-packed schedule? But Owen
didn’t think beyond practice, improving his shot, and updating his Facebook
status. Last time Darek checked, his twenty-year-old kid brother had 32,876
fans.
Darek had maybe thirty-eight
friends on his own page. Not that he was counting, but it seemed like some sort
of commentary on his life.
The minute Darek had hung up
with Owen, he should have made himself scarce—loaded Tiger into the Jeep,
attached the boat, and headed for some pristine lake. Except losing his head
and forgetting his responsibilities was how he got here in the first place.
Instead he’d experienced a
streak of clearly misplaced hope that the stigma, the gossip, might have
finally died and he might once again be an eligible bachelor. Someone who just
wanted to start over, for himself and his son.
The near silence in the room
when they’d called his name, when he’d stepped up to take Owen’s place,
confirmed that no, nothing had been forgotten.
Darek stalked past the bar,
where, of course, his high school buddies gave him tight smiles.
He hadn’t seen any of the
former Deep Haven Huskies getting up to sell their . . . well, it wasn’t
exactly his body, and she certainly didn’t expect a real date, right? So he
wasn’t sure what he was selling up there.
Darek glanced at his father,
John, sitting at the end, nursing a Sprite. A linebacker-size man—bigger than
any of his boys; he’d played fullback for the Minnesota Gophers back in the
day. That he’d ended up with hockey players could only be blamed on the skating
rink he’d cleared on the lake every January.
“Great job, Son,” his father
said, catching his arm.
“This was a bad idea,” Darek
groused, slowing his exit.
“Five hundred dollars doesn’t
sound like such a bad idea. You were the most expensive bachelor here. That
will make the news.”
“Yippee,” Darek said. But his
father was right—he’d created a bit of buzz, and hopefully it would someday
turn into goodwill for their lakeside vacation spot, Evergreen Lodge Outfitter
and Cabin Rentals, which most people shortened to Evergreen Resort.
“Do you know the woman who bid
on you?”
Darek scanned the room to
locate her. He couldn’t see her well from the stage with the lights in his
face, but he thought he’d glimpsed a redhead wearing a white jean jacket, her
hair in a messy ponytail. She wasn’t tall, maybe five foot four, and a little
on the curvy side.
Now he found her, sitting next
to Noelle Hueston and staring at him like she’d purchased . . . well, the
devil.
Darek turned away, his lips a
grim line. “No, I don’t know her.”
His father wisely said nothing,
took a sip of his Sprite. Then, “She looks pretty.”
“Next time you want to sell
your flesh and blood, pick a different son.”
He caught his father’s smirk as
he turned to leave, and it only darkened his mood.
No one from Deep Haven, not a
soul, had bid on him. What was so different about him from, say, the two
previous bachelors?
Okay,
maybe that wasn’t a fair question. Neither of them walked around with the
stigma of being the youngest widower in town, pity and probably the tsk of
tongues following in their wake.
He glanced over to the chair
where Jensen Atwood had sat, smug, rich, wearing a fancy leather jacket, his
hair cut short and slicked back, contempt in his eyes. Yes, he’d seen the man
sitting near the back, next to the jukebox, like no one would notice. He had a
lot of nerve showing up here, and Darek had just about launched off the stage
toward him. That might be a show the locals would bid on—a go-round between
Jensen and Darek. Finally.
Instead he’d dark-eyed the guy
into fleeing. It fed the heat inside him, gave Darek the strength to stand there
like an idiot while the town shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Until, of course, Moneybags
piped up.
Five hundred dollars.
Wow, did she waste her money on
him.
And what kind of woman paid
five hundred dollars for a man she didn’t know? Hopefully she didn’t want a
real date. He wasn’t a real-date kind of guy.
In fact, he was a never-date
kind of guy.
Darek shook his head and headed
out the door.
He paused on the sidewalk for a
moment, drawing in the clean air, shaking off the reek of old cigarettes,
whiskey, and town gossip that coated him like grime. The moon had risen,
hovering above the town, milky light washing over the trading post, the Blue
Moose Café, pooling in the harbor, icing the waves of the lake.
He could feel his heartbeat
thundering in his chest and hated how easily his guilt took hold of him, turned
him surly. At the least, he should swallow his pride—what was left of it—and
meet the woman who had forked out good money for him. For charity.
Instead he moved away from the
door and dug out his cell phone, about to call home.
“Hey, where are you going?”
He turned, pressing End. His
“owner” had followed him out of the VFW. A fireball with green eyes and
freckles, wearing the jean jacket he remembered over a T-shirt and a green
scarf. She stood about to his shoulder but had no problem slamming her hands to
her hips and toeing up to him.
“I thought we had a date.”
“Is that what you want? A
date?” He didn’t mean for it to emerge so sharp, even angry, and didn’t blame
her for the way she opened her mouth as if she’d been slapped.
“No, I, uh—”
“Then why did you buy me? And
why on earth would you pay five hundred dollars? Sheesh, lady, you must be
desperate or something.”
Wow. He must have lost control
of everything decent inside him. But he didn’t like the feeling of being
humiliated.
Or owned.
In fact, the entire thing made
him feel trapped and small, and he’d had enough of that, thank you.
Her mouth closed. Pinched. “I’m
not desperate. If you want to know the truth, I felt sorry for you.”
He probably deserved that,
despite the way it sideswiped him. He didn’t let on, however, preferring to
stare at her, something icy he’d learned from his years on the rink. “Okay,
then, let’s just get this over with. What do you want?”
“I—”
“You should know that I’m not
like the other guys in there. If you’re looking for some kind of fling, I’m not
your man. I can probably hook you up with one of my buddies—”
“Wow. Stay away from
me.” She whirled around, heading down the sidewalk, and he knew he was a
first-class jerk.
“Wait!”
She held up a hand. “Forget it!
You’re right; this was a bad idea.”
He ran after her—boy, she had a
fast walk for such a short woman. “Listen, I’m sorry. Really. It’s just that
you don’t want a date with me. If you ask, I’ll bet you can get your money
back.”
“I don’t want it back.”
She didn’t stop and he was
walking fast to keep up.
“Then what do you want? Why did
you buy me?”
She stopped, breathing hard.
Pressed her fingers to her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t crying, was she?
He swallowed, his throat on
fire, hearing his words and wishing he wasn’t the kind of guy who ran full
speed into hurting others.
You are so selfish. Felicity, in his head. Always in his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly,
shoving his hands into his pockets. The wind took his words, flung them toward
the lake. “It’s just that I’m the last person you want to be seen in town
with.”
She sighed, turning her face
away from him. “Well, I don’t have anyone else.” Her voice emerged small and
wheedled in past the anger, the annoyance.
It settled inside, in a place
he reserved for Tiger, and he tempered his tone. “Are you here for the weekend?
“No. I live here.” She said it
with a layer of determination, as if convincing herself.
Really? “I know nearly everyone
in this town—”
“I moved here yesterday. I’m
the new assistant county attorney.”
Uh-oh. He’d heard that the
current assistant CA had resigned to stay home with her newborn child. He’d
miss the way she tolerated his monthly phone calls. But someone had to keep
tabs on Jensen, right? He looked at this angry sprite and grimaced, imagining
her reaction next time Jensen threatened a restraining order.
Darek might be the one doing
years of community service.
“Sorry,” he said again.
Her shoulder jerked in a
halfhearted shrug.
“Maybe . . . maybe I could help
you carry furniture or chop wood or mow your grass or something.”
She had folded her hands across
her chest. “Wow, I must be a real catch for you to offer to mow my lawn instead
of being seen in public with me.”
“No, I—”
“Like I said, you’re off the
hook.”
“I don’t want to be off the
hook. You bought me fair and square.”
She pursed her lips.
“I have an idea. C’mon.”
She frowned at him, and frankly
he was done begging, not sure how he’d gotten to this point in the first place.
So he turned and headed for the Jeep, parked just down the street.
He didn’t look behind him but
heard her steps. When he reached the car, he held her door open like a
gentleman, although he knew he might be a little late to resurrect any sort of
real
gallantry.
She looked up at him before
getting in, her eyes big and shiny in the moonlight. They caught his and for
the first time, he noticed how pretty they were, with golden flecks at the edges.
“I’m safe, even if I’m a jerk.”
“I have friends who will hunt
you down and kill you if I go missing.”
“I have no doubt.” He took a
long breath and stuck out his hand. “Darek Christiansen, Deep Haven tour guide,
at your service, milady.”
She regarded his hand for a
moment, and he sensed something shifting inside her. “Ivy Madison.” Then she
slid one of her petite hands into his and smiled.
The full force of it reached
out and poured into him, hot and bold and shaking him through. He dropped her
grip, swallowed. Stepped back.
She climbed into the Jeep and
reached for the seat belt, her eyes on his as he closed the door.
Oh, boy.
Maybe he should have run when
he had the chance.
***
Jensen sat outside the VFW in
the Pine Acres work truck—the one he took to town when he wanted to hide—and
watched Darek get the girl. Again.
And why not? Darek Christiansen
always won.
Tonight, he’d stared Jensen
down until he’d had no choice but to slink out. The last thing Jensen wanted
was a fight. Especially with only six weeks left on his sentence. He didn’t
need a judge deciding he wasn’t repentant enough and upgrading his community
service to a stint behind bars.
Jensen should simply concede
that Darek would always win. His streak began in fourth grade, when they’d both
started playing hockey, and continued long after Jensen moved away, returning
every summer as they vied for Felicity’s attention.
Sure, Jensen had a few
glimmering moments. Like the summer Darek escaped to Montana to fight the fire
in Glacier National Park with the Jude County Hotshots, after Jensen had given
up his own firefighting dreams. Jensen and Felicity had nearly become something
that stuck then—probably would have if Darek hadn’t returned home tan and
triumphant.
And of course, there was the
simple fact that in the end Darek had married Felicity. Jensen hadn’t
quite seen that one coming. But then again, he doubted Darek had either.
He watched as Darek and the
redhead headed out of town in his Jeep Wrangler. For a moment, he debated going
back inside to listen to the Blue Monkeys. After all, that’s why he’d braved
the auction—Jensen normally slunk in late for the band’s events, sitting in the
shadows so no one saw him. But today he’d misjudged the time, the auction ran
over, and well, creeping back in now felt too much like tucking his tail
between his legs.
He had at least a smidgen of
pride left.
Jensen put the truck into gear
and pulled out.
One hundred hours and he’d be
free; he could leave Deep Haven and never look back. Maybe keep driving all the
way to California or Mexico, where he could change his name and leave his past
in the dust.
On top of the hill over the
town, Jensen resisted the urge to glance out the passenger window at the
scattering of lights that made up Deep Haven. Eyes, watching him, blinking,
accusing.
He kept his gaze on the road,
slowing as he took the truck around a curve carved through the granite, where
the shoulder disappeared. His hands slickened and he caught himself holding his
breath.
He couldn’t wait to leave. But
to do that, he’d have to find a few more places where he could go, hat in hand,
begging for hours. Deep Haven seemed determined to keep him from fulfilling his
community service, especially lately. Volunteer jobs had fizzled to ten hours a
week and some places, like the after-school tutoring program, had turned him
away.
Apparently the fact that he had
graduated from college and managed two years of law school didn’t matter to the
English teachers struggling to teach their sixth graders to read.
No, if the citizens of Deep
Haven had their way, he would have been their first public stoning.
He turned south where the road
split around Evergreen Lake and took the paved road to the end, pulling in to
the gated community of Pine Acres. The electronic gate and pass card could
probably be considered overkill, but his father had promoted safety for the
vacation homes when he jumped into the world of property development and
created the luxury vacation community, and he kept his word. At least to the
residents of the community.
As Jensen drove through the
gates, he noticed that deer had snacked on the currant bushes by the entrance.
He’d have to reshape them, maybe spray. A bulb was out on the automatic entry
lights, and he spotted a tree down along one of the wooded drives. He’d come by
tomorrow on the four-wheeler and clean it up.
He had to mow, anyway, and
finish painting the Millers’ garage—a project his father thought might fill
time and create some goodwill. After all, the Millers were one of his father’s
largest clients in the Cities with their string of cinemas.
Jensen crawled into the
driveway of his father’s massive vacation home and parked the truck outside. As
he got out, the stars created a canopy of brilliance, innocent and bright. They
felt so close he wanted to reach up and touch one. The wind hushed in the white
pine and birch, the poplar and willow that surrounded the property.
Motion sensor lights flickered
on as Jensen moved toward the service door, blinding him for a moment. Then he
let himself into the darkness of the garage and didn’t bother to turn on the
lights, toeing off his shoes and moving from memory up the stairs to the great
room. At the top, moonlight streamed through the grand windows that overlooked
the lake, waxing the wood floor with light. The ceiling rose two stories,
trapping the silences of the grand house, and the place smelled of the walleye
he’d cooked for lunch in butter and dill. He dropped his keys onto the granite
countertop and opened the double-door stainless fridge, peering inside for
something. Anything.
Grabbing a root beer in a tall
bottle, he twisted off the cap and padded out to the deck.
The lake rippled in the
darkness, fingers of light feathering over the surface. He could barely make
out Gibs’s light next door, trickling through the woods and across the sandy
beach. He should check on the old man. A canoe lay moored on the sand, evidence
of a recent visit by his granddaughter, Claire. How she loved to canoe the
length of the lake.
Jensen didn’t mean to stalk,
but he loved watching her. And what else did he have to do, really?
Across the lake, almost
directly from Pine Acres, the lights of the Evergreen Resort main lodge blazed.
Once upon a time, he and Darek
had been the kings of Evergreen Lake.
He set his root beer on the
railing and dug out his harmonica.
The sound echoed across the
lake, long and twangy, Johnny Cash’s “Cry! Cry! Cry!” Maybe it was a little
indulgent, but tonight, he couldn’t help it. “You’ll call for me but I’m
gonna tell you, bye, bye, bye . . .”
He
listened to the last of the sound lingering as he finished. It was so easy,
sometimes, to just close his eyes, lose himself in memories. The heat of the
sun on his skin, the taste of trouble in his laughter. Standing on the bow of
the canoe, his feet balanced on the edges. Claire and Felicity on the seat in
the middle, and at the stern, facing him, similarly balanced, stood Darek.
Jensen had seen that sparking
of challenge in Darek’s eyes as he said, “You can’t knock me off.”
“Watch me.” Jensen gave the
canoe a playful jerk.
Felicity squealed. The summer
had turned her hair a rich, luscious blonde, and with her skimpy bikini, he
could barely keep his eyes in his head. She faced him, grinning, and he
wondered if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
Claire grabbed for her side of
the seat, and he caught her gaze on him. She always made him feel a little
naughty, even when he wasn’t thinking anything he shouldn’t. Then again, he
supposed that’s what a missionary kid was supposed to do. Make you behave.
But on days like this, with the
sun streaming down his back and both girls smiling up at him, he didn’t care about
behaving.
Just winning.
Jensen jerked the canoe hard,
and Darek’s arms windmilled. He nearly went over but found his balance and
stamped his foot, making the canoe lurch the other direction.
Jensen caught himself and
jerked it back, this time fast, hard and—
Darek leaned into it, and
suddenly Jensen found himself in the air. The chill of lake water swept away
his breath, and he kicked hard to right himself.
He found Darek’s hand reaching
for him when he came up. Jensen took it. And yanked.
Darek flipped over his head and
into the lake. Darek came up sputtering, then launched himself at Jensen. They
wrestled until they both hung on the side of the canoe, breathing hard.
“Let’s take your dad’s boat
out, get some dinner down at the Landing,” Felicity said as Darek reached for
her. She swatted him. Glanced at Jensen. “Please?”
“Sure.”
Claire reached out and helped
Jensen into the canoe. Darek climbed in after him and they paddled back to
shore.
Thankfully, his father wouldn’t
be back until the weekend to grouse about the boat. Claire and Felicity met him
in sundresses and they picked up Darek across the lake, then motored down to
the outside grill and restaurant, Jensen’s knee propped on the diver’s chair as
he guided the boat.
“Faster, Jens!” Felicity said,
so he pushed up the throttle. Darek frowned, his eyes darkening, but Felicity
was laughing and Jensen could feel it in his chest.
Her laughter always felt
sweetly dangerous, like if he hung on too long, it might burn him. He could
still hear her sometimes, in the darkness across the lake. Taste the memory of
that curious summer when he had her all to himself, feel the texture of her
kisses. What a fool he’d been, gobbling up the idea that if he did it right,
she might belong to him. Believing that he even really wanted that.
Because she’d never belonged to
him. Not then, not later.
He opened his eyes, staring
into the night, at the lights across the lake, pressing into the darkness.
He should have remembered that Darek Christiansen
always won.
~~
When famous author Luke
Maguire decides to write his next novel in the small town of Burronga,
Australia, he's sure he can ignore the fiery redhead next door. Not only has he
just been burned from a high-profile breakup, but he's never been one to set
down roots. No, he'll finish his novel and leave Burronga. And soon. 
Coleen Kwan has been a bookworm all her life. At school English was her favorite subject, but for some reason she decided on a career in IT. After many years of programming, she wondered what else there was in life — and discovered writing. She loves writing contemporary romance and steampunk romance.
