Under the glow of the light and the smell of what I could only imagine was boat fuel lingering on the lake breeze, I stood there momentarily lost watching his forearms flexing under rolled sleeves as he hoisted three cases onto his dolly.
“I can carry something,” I offered but wasn’t sure what.
The crates were stacked and he was easily rolling them toward the liquor store door.At least there wasn’t a watermelon, a weak nod to one of the most popular movies back in the day.
“You already carry enough,” he said without thinking.
My heart stuttered, which was ridiculous, really.I’d heard a hundred variations ofyou’re strongoryou’re capablebut neveryou carry enough.
A tickle of breeze blew a note from Tristan’s cologne to wave under my nose, recalling an old set of memories from when he tried to impress a girl wearing a sample he’d picked up from The Bay.She had hated it but I’d loved it, and acquired a sample myself, sprinkling a little on my pillow at night.
“But if you could grab the door, that would make this much easier.”
“Oh, what?You can’t do it all?”But I scrambled ahead of him to help.
Inside, the store was aggressively bright and smelled like stale pretzels and Lysol.Behind the counter, a man with thick forearms, graffitied with tattoos, a gray beard, and an Edmonton Oilers cap perked up.
“Tristan!Thought you bailed on me, buddy.”The guy I assumed was Mark eyed the dolly.“That my marble Pinot?”
“And the Syrah you begged for,” Tristan said.“Don’t say I never deliver.”
Mark’s gaze cut to me.“Oh.”His mouth stretched into a knowing smile as he dragged out the word.“So this is why you’re late.”
Tristan froze, his brain crashing like a Windows 98 reboot.
Nudging him sharply, I gave him a look before extending my hand to Mark.“Anna Hemingsway, passenger, porter, and pallbearer of bad jokes.”
The pact.Thirty seconds if someone assumes we’re together.
Tristan inhaled, straightened, and slid his arm around my shoulders.His palm rested exactly where my neck met my shoulder.Where skin was too aware.Warm.Steady.A touch that felt like an anchor and an invitation all at once.
I should’ve tensed at the rare touch but instead, my body betrayed me and naturally relaxed into it.
The familiarity of it—the warmth, the way it fit—hit someplace I’d boarded up years ago.And that was exactly why I couldn’t trust this.I had kids who needed stability, not second chances.
Tristan finally found his voice as I separated myself from him.“We’ve been making a few scenic stops.”
Mark grinned like Santa catching elves kissing.“Ah, huh.”
“Did you know she’s never seen Lake Louise?”
“Is that so?”Mark shot a curious grin in my direction before returning his focus to Tristan.“Well, well.About time.”
I coughed on invisible air.Tristan stiffened but recovered so quickly it almost made me laugh.
“We’re...making a road trip out of it,” he added.“Showing off all the little neat places along the way.”
“Shall I get the keys to the boat?You can take her out to Copper Island.”
“Really?You?”I asked.
Why was I so impressed he could drive a boat?It wasn’t like he’d said he could perform open-heart surgery.But still.A boat.
My mind was still reeling as Tristan spoke.“No time, my friend.Merritt is still expecting us tonight.”
Mark turned to the clock on the wall.“Tonight?”
“We can make it.”Tristan faced me, his confident smile in full display.“It’s less than two hours away.Won’t be a problem.”
