I’m offering.”
“Do you still have your EMT cert?”
“Yeah. I’m not stupid enough to enter war zones without knowing what to do in an emergency,” he said. “Warning—this offer will self-destruct in five seconds unless you accept it.”
Drew tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. “Okay, then. I’ll fill Lauren in on the plan tomorrow. She’ll be relieved, to say the least.”
Every cell in Tavish’s body froze. “Huh?”
“Well, you’ll be replacing Zach, but Lauren’s replacing me. Looking forward to it, or so she says. So you’ll be helping her out.”
Clenching his fist around the rock, he resisted the impulse to hurl it through the glass pane of the hallway door. Working with Lauren would kill him. She’d consider his involvement the antithesis of help. And he couldn’t back out of the commitment now. If he did, Drew would ask questions.
Lauren’s inevitable freak-out when her brother informed her would also result in raised eyebrows. Better to avoid any possibility of suspicion. “She and I should start communicating about how I’m going to best support her while you’re gone, so let me tell her.”
Drew shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just happy that Mackenzie doesn’t have to go on our honeymoon without me.” His smile turned wicked. “Two weeks of being alone.”
“Dude. Sister.”
“Dude,” his friend mocked. “You have to know what you’re facilitating.”
“I know you have to shut up about it.”
Mackenzie better enjoy her holiday. Because by making the most important woman in his life happy, he’d be making the woman who should have owned that title miserable.
Lauren woke up on Saturday morning and reveled in not having set an alarm. Clear sky glowed blue through the skylights in her loft bedroom, promising a cloudless morning. And she planned to enjoy her three days of freedom. Freedom from blood, freedom from needles. She wasn’t free from her contract, but at least with the financial glitches she could drag her heels a little longer before signing in triplicate. And her 10:00 a.m. date to help Mackenzie make chair decorations and centerpieces all but guaranteed she’d be able to steer clear of Tavish. No way tulle pew bows and glass vase arrangements would capture his interest. He barely stayed still long enough to snap pictures on the ultra-fancy camera habitually slung on his shoulder.
He was happy enough to be still when we were snuggling in bed together.
Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she shot out from the covers. Her plush featherbed and Egyptian cotton sheets felt way too much like the bed they’d shared during their honeymoon in Las Vegas. She needed to clear her Tavish-and-work-filled brain with some fresh air before she headed into town to meet Mackenzie. Throwing on a sports bra, thin jacket and cropped leggings, she jogged downstairs.
Wanting her space to reflect the outdoors, she’d decorated the spacious, cathedral-ceilinged main floor in soft moss and earth tones to complement the green visible through the expansive panes of glass at the front and rear.
She loved it.
Never wanted to leave.
Her gaze landed on the thick manila folder on her reclaimed-barnwood dining table. Damn. Usually never wanted to leave. But the house was full of specters this morning. She’d fled the enchanting reminders of nights tangled in Tavish, only to run headlong into her work anxiety. She needed to get away from that contract before it sprouted legs and chased her around the butcher-block island.
Yoga on the dock. Yes. An excuse to leave the house without feeling like a total chicken.
Crisp forest air pricked her sinuses as she opened the glass French doors and toted her yoga mat down the stairs to the long wooden raft. The sun had risen far enough above the lush pines on the opposite bank to lend a hint of warmth to the light breeze. She sat cross-legged on her mat and stared at the ripples marring the surface of the water.
Living out on Moosehorn Lake, a twenty-minute drive from the town center, gave her enough distance not to feel truly pathetic about the double knots keeping her tied to home. She was close enough to take care of her dad and her sister, and to help Mackenzie and Andrew once the baby arrived, but far enough away she wasn’t living in their pockets.
She was independent. Owned a stunning, green-roofed log house on a pristine chunk of waterfront. Had a meaningful job that connected her to her mom. So what if she chose to be a homebody, to put her family first? Just because her chosen lifestyle was the polar opposite of Tavish’s didn’t make it any less valid.
Though it does mean we shouldn’t have exchanged rings...
And shouldn’t have made promises neither of them was capable of keeping.
She was stretching into downward dog when the roar of a ski boat broke through her meditative breathing. Teenagers, probably. Her nearest neighbor, the quintessential get-off-my-lawn sort, would be pissed off to have boat noise before eight.
A quick glance west corrected her assumption of the age of the perpetrators. She immediately recognized not only the stripe down the side of the sleek vessel barreling in her direction, but the passengers within it.
Not teenagers.
Clearly the groom had escaped any serious abuse at the bachelor party if he was on the lake at this hour. The early-morning sun silhouetted her brother’s broad shoulders as he steered from his perch on the top of his seat. Mackenzie’s red ponytail blew in the wind from her position in the bow seat, facing backward as the spotter. Cadie snuggled in the passenger seat across from Andrew, the hood of her zippered sweatshirt pulled up.
Lauren didn’t need to look to know who they were towing.
Every muscle stood out on Tavish’s wetsuit-clad body as he tore up the water behind the boat, creating an incandescent rooster tail taller than his six-foot frame.
So much for steering clear of him.
All four of them waved as they passed Lauren, seemingly headed for the slalom course a few hundred yards east of her dock.
Giving up on yoga and ready for any entertainment that could distract her from the little voice in her heart that said things she didn’t want to hear, she pulled her knees up to her chest.
Her brother aimed his boat through the two white marker balls. She shadowed her eyes and reluctantly admired Tavish as he passed through the course, creating an S pattern as he cut around the balls positioned on alternate sides of the center guides.
She’d have accused him of showing off, but he had perfect right to do so. Tavish Fitzgerald carved up the water like a four-star chef did a Christmas turkey.
Something hot and needy, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, pulled at her core and made her skin tingle. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms and tried to focus on his skill rather than his amazing body.
After Tavish successfully rounded all six obstacles, Andrew
