But he was leaving.
Which was why I’d maybe, sort of planned a lunch date.
Okay.Not adate-date.Just a hey-let’s-pretend-I’m-being-polite-inviting-a-guest-out-for-local-culture type of thing. Casual. Friendly. Fun.
Completely normal behavior for someone who had, in fact, kissed the guy’s face off against a tree and then nearly climbed him like a towering pine.
I found him out by the side of the lodge, crouched down and helping my mom collect a few overturned flowerpots after last night’s wind.
He looked up when he saw me, with sunglasses pushed into his hair, sleeves rolled up, and that quiet smile that he reserved just for me now.
Trouble. Absolute trouble.
“There you are,” I said, aiming for breezy. “I was about to put out a missing person alert.”
Ben rose to his full height and dusted his hands on his jeans. “I got recruited. Your mom’s very persuasive.”
“She has her ways,” I agreed, shooting him a grin. “But I come bearing a more tempting offer.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Lunch. In town. My treat. There’s a little café on the lakefront with good sandwiches and pie that might actually change your life.”
He raised a brow. “Is that a marketing tactic or a threat?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He looked at me for a long second. Then: “Give me five minutes to wash up.”
I gave him a mock salute and practically floated back toward the lodge.
Twenty minutes later, we were seated on the shaded deck ofLittle Fern Café,sipping iced teas and waiting on paninis. Buttercup Lake shimmered in the background, and birds chirped like they’d been hired for ambiance.
Ben looked more relaxed than I’d seen him all week. He leaned back in his chair, sunglasses hooked on the neck of his T-shirt, watching me with the kind of quiet focus that made it hard to remember how to chew.
“So,” I said, stabbing at the lemon wedge in my glass. “Are you having fun yet, or are you still contractually obligated to be grumpy?”
He chuckled, low and genuine. “I’m considering renegotiating my contract.”
“Oh good. Our guest satisfaction score depends heavily on mood improvement by week’s end.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” I said, leaning in. “Smiles are heavily incentivized. We offer cookies, scenic hikes, and occasional spontaneous kissing. All part of the package.”
Ben smirked. “Do all your guests get those perks?”
I gave him a look. “Only the ones who look like they chop wood recreationally.”
He shook his head with a soft laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re just slow to catch up.”
The server brought our food then, melty cheese and herbed turkey stacked on warm bread, accompanied by a side of kettle chips and a slice of berry pie.
We ate in easy silence for a few minutes. The kind that felt comfortable now. Familiar, even. Like we were athing.A quiet little bubble of something that hadn’t existed just a few days ago.
But bubbles pop.
