Page 39 of Fate Fiction

I snuck back to my cabin, hoping I’d go unnoticed.

Nope. Evan waved through his window. I hesitantly waved back.

I slid on my favorite jeans and a tank top and placed a few dots of concealer on my face. I’d had enough instances of Evan seeing me at my worst, I could indulge myself and let him see me at something a little better.

“We have to stop meeting like this. I'm beginning to think you’re stalking me.” Evan laughed and turned to face me when I stepped outside. He paused. For a while. “You dressed up?” His eyes moved up and down my body, and he might have briefly bitten his lip.

Innocently, I looked down at the outfit, “I’d hardly call this dressing up. But we are going to dinner after all.”

I walked past him, a small lingering limp shortening my gait. His eyes followed me and they were like laser beams straight to my core. Evan picked up his pace to meet up with me, our steps falling into sync as we walked back to Sue and Randy’s house.

Dinner was uneventful. Save for Evan’s constant staring. Between Randy commenting on what had changed in town and Sue peddling conspiracy theories about the benefits of wearing raw tourmaline jewelry, Evan stared. While Sue asked me a question about Andrea and Caroline's wedding, Evan stared. Even when Randy was talking to Evan about the state of New York City real estate, Evan stared directly at me.

I ignored it the best I could. Meeting his gaze was the first step of the beginning of the end.

After we finished dinner, Randy had every intention of showing Evan his tool shed after dinner, “stuff us men can appreciate.” Evan feigned interest, though I had the sense he was hardly a handyman.

After the two of them left, I lingered to help Sue clean up.

“I think Hollyweird likes you,” Sue said without looking up from the sink.

I froze in place. Her words were gasoline on the sparks that were dancing around my head. Evan did not like me. He may have been absurdly nice to me, and he may have spent the last hour staring at me, but he did not like me. Because people like Evan McLeod did not like people like Dani Grant.

“Oh no, definitely not, he’s being nice. It’s a pity thing.” I was wiping the same spot on the counter over and over.

“I saw how he looked when you came in injured, and how he couldn’t stop ogling you at dinner. He’s smitten, lovebug. It’s cute. You’ve been all flustered every time he talks to you.”

I stopped cleaning. It wasn’t worth fighting Sue on this, she was wired to overexaggerate and read too much into little glimmers of…nothing…it was still nothing.

“Mmhmm, sure.” I bit my tongue. “I came here to get over Nick, remember? I don’t need…distractions.”

“Is that what we’re calling this?”

“‘This’ is nothing!” Sue looked at me incredulously. “I swear. We’re being nice to one another, and he’s…ridiculously handsome. That’s all.”

I furiously scrubbed at the counter again, attempting to eliminate non-existent stains. Sue attempted to formulate a sentence a few times but always trailed off.

The side door burst open, Randy’s large frame blocking out the dwindling light. He was the kind of man who was impossible not to notice. He was large, both in height and width, and he wore worn out Carhartt overalls and a ball cap likely older than me every day.

“The kid wants a bonfire,” he huffed. “Said it would be nice for all of us to enjoy it.”

“Well, it’ll be a clear night, good chance for some shooting stars,” Sue propped her hands on her hips. “Dani, could you gather up some firewood and bring it to the fire pit in front of the dock?”

A perfect escape from whatever wild ideas Sue was trying to put into my head and another distraction. Maybe that was the solution here, if I stayed constantly busy I wouldn’t have the time to think about Evan.

I scooped up a bundle of logs Randy chopped and teetered towards the fire pit, hoping that I wouldn’t trip on another root with my arms full of splinter projectiles. A silhouette was sitting in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the stones surrounding the fire pit, staring out at the lake.

Evan looked up with a start when I dropped the wood behind him.

“You good?” I asked.

“Sorry. Deep in thought. You spooked me.” He replied, turning his hands over nervously in his lap.

“I only have to bring a few more loads over then I’ll get out of your hair,” I turned to leave and he stood up abruptly behind me.

“I’ll help out, I’m not letting you go through that work solo, especially after your injury.” He nodded down at my leg.

I had mostly forgotten about the ankle, other than a slight pain when I stepped on it at a certain angle it was largely fine now. I walked back to the woodshed and he followed, each of us bringing an armful of cut logs to the fire pit. We worked in silence, both focusing on the job at hand and the sun dipping behind the mountains in the distance.