Page 7 of Freeing Lark

Thank goodness. She practically bounced on her toes. Until she got a better look at him. And then she stopped bouncing. Because the man standing in the boat looked like he had been carved out of some romance author’s imagination.

A very intimidating romance author’s imagination.

He was huge. Not just tall. Huge. Broad shoulders stretched beneath a dark shirt, muscular arms covered in intricate tattoos visible as he guided the boat closer. His hair was cut short, almost military style, and a neatly trimmed beard covered his jaw.

He looked like a lumberjack who had wandered out of a romance novel. The kind of lumberjack who chopped wood shirtless and made readers forget they had bills to pay.

Unfortunately, he also looked like the kind of man who would be extremely unhappy about rescuing a stranded woman.

His expression confirmed it. Definitely unhappy.

The boat stopped beside the shoreline. “What happened?”

His voice was deep. Not warm. Not welcoming. Just... deep. She swallowed. “Hi.”

One eyebrow lifted. That was apparently not the response he was expecting. “Hi?”

“Yes. Hi. Sorry. I know this is weird.”

“You’re stranded on an island.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She glanced away. “My boat disappeared.”

His expression didn’t change. “Your boat disappeared.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Boats don’t usually disappear.”

“Mine apparently does.”

His jaw tightened. “How was it tied?”

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the rope that had been left behind by her errant boat. He followed her gaze, and that was all the answer he needed. “You didn’t tie it correctly.”

“I tied it.”

“You didn’t tie it securely.”

She frowned. “Are you always this cheerful?”

“No.”

She waited. He didn't elaborate. “Okay.”

A long silence passed. Then he sighed. The kind of sigh that suggested he regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment. “Come on.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Unless you want to sleep out here.”

“No. Definitely not.”

She grabbed her bag and stepped carefully toward the edge of the river. The man reached out. “Give me your hand.” She placed her hand in his. His fingers wrapped around hers. Warm and strong. And then⁠—