Collin yawned lazily. “Maybe if we stopped using mystery meat and desperation as bait, we’d actually catch something with gills.”
Aries let out a chuckle of agreement, but his laugh was drowned out by another strident splash. Collin fully expected to be drenched, but when not a single drop fell on him, he sat up and searched for the source of the disturbance.
An empty skiff was drifting a few dozen yards away. There was no sign of the rower. Around the craft, the water rippled as though something had just fallen overboard.
“She has the right idea,” said Aries.
Collin shaded his eyes with one hand, blinking into the glare. When the abandoned canoe drifted closer, he leaned forward,pulse quickening, a wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth before he even realized he was smiling.
Dragonfly frolicked beside her canoe like a duckling splashing in a pond—hardly graceful, but lit from within by a kind of bliss. She swam ahead a few easy strokes before letting herself drift lazily back, limbs loose, unhurried. Her hair, a bright sheet of sunlight, floated around her shoulders in an ethereal halo. The locals called the colorNorth Town Gold.It was warm and rich, like standing in the middle of a summer day.
Then, with no warning, she sank—vanished beneath the surface in a rush of tiny silver bubbles. Collin held his breath without meaning to.
She surfaced a heartbeat later, grinning, on the far side of her canoe. With a quick motion, she grabbed the edge and threw one leg over. Then came the inevitable tumble—limbs flailing, a splash—and she landed with a thud in the boat.
She’d gone swimming in nothing but her linen chemise and underskirt, and now her soaked clothes clung to her like a second skin, every curve and line of her body outlined in light and water. Quickly, she tugged on her overskirt and blouse with practiced ease, then twisted her hair into a tight coil, squeezing it dry over the side. Sunlight scattered through the droplets like tiny stars. She gave her long locks a brisk shake, then ran her fingers through to separate the strands. At last, she picked up her oars, locked them into place, and set her craft into motion.
Dragonfly of North Town was a quiet spell spun in sunlight—enchanting in ways Collin could never quite name aloud. She moved through the world like glinting water, shifting her shape to match its rhythms, reserved and elusive one moment, teasing and radiant the next. He’d always admired her strange grace, but lately, he felt a more insistent tug. The girl he used to chase along the lake’s edge was vanishing. In her place stood a woman whosebeauty left him breathless, whose laughter curled in his chest like fragrance he couldn’t exhale.
He found himself watching her too long, speaking too carefully, wishing—though he wouldn’t yet admit it to her—for more than just memories between them.
Her canoe drifted level with the boys’ stationary craft. Droplets still clung to her lashes and the tips of her hair, catching the sun like beads of glass. She’d been out in the heat for some time—the sharp flush of sunburn blooming across her collarbone. The light, airy blouse she’d tugged on clung to her damp skin, translucent in places. The top buttons were left undone, revealing the soft curve of her neckline and just the faintest glimpse of cleavage.
And Collin forgot to breathe.
His eyes lingered—too long—on the hollow of her throat, on the single golden strand that slipped over one shoulder and curled along the rise of her breast. Heat surged into his face, rushing all the way to his ears. His heart tripped into a wild rhythm, every thud impossibly loud in his chest.
Say something. Witty. Charming. Anything.
But his mind, unhelpfully, chose that exact moment to vanish. Not a single word would come.
So he just smiled. Or tried to. It was the best he could do.
Dragonfly offered a shy smile in return, but the moment their eyes met, hers darted away. She gave a small tug at the top of her blouse, a subtle, nervous gesture—as if she knew exactly where his gaze had lingered.
Collin’s mouth went dry. A strange, soaring tingling crawled across his scalp. His eyes, unbidden, dropped to her lips—the soft curve of them, the way they held a trace of her smile. How many times had those lips haunted his thoughts? He ached to touch them, just lightly, to trace the fullness of her bottom lipwith the tip of his finger. The desire to taste her, to feel the shape of her mouth against his, rose like a tide inside him.
Would she shiver when he kissed her—like a leaf trembling on a branch?
No. He clenched his jaw. Don’t think of that now.
Dragonfly glanced quickly at Aries. She motioned vaguely to the far side of the lake, saying, “The lines over there haven’t yet been checked.”
Inside her canoe, several large, glassy eyed fish with their mouths wide open lay on the bottom. A few even had the hooks still embedded in their cheek.
"Fantastic! Thanks," Aries said with renewed vigor. He picked up his oars and began rowing energetically in the direction she indicated. "There is always a good haul over there!”
Collin barely heard Aries's eager remarks. His mind continued to linger on Dragonfly as she paddled for shore.
It was on that very shore where he had first seen her—Dragonfly, the girl who would become the axis of some hidden part of his heart. He and Connor had been out gathering wild berries, but the task felt dull and directionless. Restless, he had wandered down the slope alone, drawn more by instinct than purpose.
Then, by the lake’s edge, he saw her—a small girl crouched in the sand, completely absorbed in her art. She wasn’t building castles or tossing pebbles like most children did. Instead, she was coaxing worlds from the earth itself. With a stick clutched in one hand, she etched pictures into the warm, sunlit shore—trees with curling boughs, crooked little cabins, mountains rising sharp against imagined skies. Dragons coiled beside butterflies, defying scale and logic but making perfect sense in the universe she'd conjured.
Collin had stopped breathing. Something in the way she moved—delicate, assured—unlocked a stillness in him he hadn’t known he carried. He stepped carefully, reverently, through her creations, afraid to ruin them, afraid to ruin the moment. She didn’t look up until he was right before her.
“You’re blocking out the sun from my world,” she said.
He’d never forgotten that. Her voice had been light but firm, and her gaze—clear, crystalline blue—had cut straight through him. A spark had caught in his chest and held fast ever since. He dropped to his knees without a word and, fumbling for a stick, drew a bright, clumsy sun above her log cabin.
