Footsteps, sudden and steady, on the path behind them. Voices—two, maybe three—floating closer like a curse.
Nic froze. Jaw clenched. He didn’t pull away, not at first, not until Helen tensed and broke the kiss with a groan of frustration, hiding her face in his shoulder.
“Of course,” she muttered.
Nic swallowed, tried to school his face, but it was no use. The heat hadn’t left him. His fingers twitched at her back, unsure what to do now. His skin still buzzed from where hers had been.
He looked down at her—at her parted lips, the glint lingering in her eyes—and knew exactly what he wanted.
But not here. Not with boots crunching past and laughter echoing from the trees.
Not when he had so much more of her to learn.
“I wish people would just vanish,” she muttered.
Nic grinned. “Tempting idea.”
Her brow furrowed, and he could see her already folding inward, retreating from the moment. That wouldn’t do.
He stood, brushing off his trousers. “Come on, Biscuit.”
“What?”
“I know somewhere better. No interruptions.”
Helen looked up, hesitant but curious.
He motioned toward the dock, where a little rowboat bobbed lazily under the cypress branches. “Collin and Aries keep it tied up right there. Probably forgot to lock it again.”
Helen followed his gaze, then looked back at him, frowning. “Nic...”
He stretched out a hand, grinning. “Just imagine it—sunlight, open water, no stewards, no footsteps, just you, me, and that smug little seadog chasing frogs.”
She crossed her arms. “We’re not stealing a boat.”
“It’s borrowing. Temporary liberation. Revolutionary romance. You said you wanted privacy, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to commit a crime.”
“Not a crime if we bring it back better than we found it. I’ll even polish the oars.”
Helen rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”
“Admit it,” he said, already tugging her toward the dock. “You love that about me.”
He gave the chain a gentle tug. Damn, locked, but the latch on the storage box nearby wasn’t. He rummaged through the box and found the nail he'd been using as a pick for months. With a little finesse and a few well-chosen curses muttered under his breath, the lock popped with a soft click.
“Hop in,” Nic said, offering a dramatic bow. “Your private carriage awaits.”
He rowed slowly, Dolly curled between them like a mop come to life, tail wagging lazily each time Nic dipped the oars.
The lake was still and blue as melted glass. As they neared the far shore, trees closed in around them, dense with green. A narrow inlet opened into a hidden lagoon, shaded and quiet.
Nic beached the skiff in the silt and offered Helen his hand as she stepped out.
She took it. And didn’t let go.
They moved together into the tall grass by the shore, cicadas humming softly in the trees. Nic kissed her again—deeper this time. He ran his hands along her sides, pausing at her hips, letting her move closer at her own pace.
