Page 64 of Enchanted to Meet You

“Why do you have this?” I asked suspiciously, wrapping my hair into a messy bun at the crown of my head.

“You left it in here after the gym last week.”

“And you just… kept it in here?”

“Yeah. In case you needed it.” He glanced over. “Told you I can be boyfriend material.”

Then he reached over and cranked the volume dial until the speakers vibrated against the door panels. He let out a loud, wild laugh, leaning his head back toward the open window, the wind catching his hair. He grabbed my hand where it rested on my thigh, and pulled it up, wrapping my fingers around his as he held our joined hands up over the center console, keeping beat with the music.

My heart did a terrifying vault in my chest. There was no one here to watch us. There were no cars behind us, no spectators on the side of the empty country road, no one around for miles except the pine trees and the shimmering gray granite.

“Rhys,” I said, my voice lost beneath the roar of the wind and the music.

“What?” he called out, glancing at me with bright, laughing eyes.

I shook my head, squeezing his hand back before he could notice the sudden panic in my chest. “Nothing, just don’t wreck the car!”

“Never.”

He finally released my hand to grip the wheel as we hit a steep incline, but the warmth of his palm stayed imprinted on my skin long after he let go.

Ten minutes later, we passed the wooden sign carved with gold lettering: WELCOME TO CARLING BEACH.

The small cottage town was buzzing. Main Street was lined with old wooden storefronts, a bustling marina packed with expensive wooden boats and sleek modern speedboats, and an ice cream parlor with a line wrapping all the way down the boardwalk. Teenagers in wet swim trunks were walking barefoot down the gravel shoulders, carrying towels over their shoulders.

“Almost there,” Rhys said. We blew all the way through the town, then five minutes past it, turned down a narrow, bumpy dirt lane framed by towering white pines. The SUV bounced over the roots and gravel, the tires crunching loudly in the quiet woods.

Through the trees, I caught my first glimpse of the lake—a vast, mirror-like expanse of deep blue, dotted with trees and boathouses.

My chest tightened with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The easy, carefree bubble of the car was about to pop. Beyond the next bend was the cottage, and waiting inside were his dad, his step-family, and the ex-girlfriend he was trying to make jealous.

Rhys slowed the car as a massive, dark-timbered cottage came into view at the end of the point, perched right over the water with a wide wrap-around dock. He pulled into the gravel driveway and turned off the ignition. The engine turned off, leaving us in a sudden quiet broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore and the distant call of a bird.

Rhys didn’t get out right away. He rested his hands on the top of the steering wheel and turned to look at me. “Ready for this?”

I looked down at my sandals, then back up at his searching eyes. I reached out and lightly touched his arm, feeling the tight wire of tension in his muscles.

“I’m ready,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Rhys stared at me for a long moment, his eyes dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my gaze. Then he opened his door and stepped out into the cool evening air. I took a deep breath, grabbed my duffel bag, and opened mine, stepping out into the sunset to play my part.

eighteen

The gravel crunched beneath my flip-flops. The driveway was next to the cottage and offered a clear view of the lake between the trees, the water reflecting the orange and pink sunset beautifully. The air carried a cool, cedar-scented bite that made me take a long breath through my nose, feeling rejuvenated even after the long drive.

The cottage was massive—a sprawling structure finished in dark brown siding with crisp white trim around an absurd number of windows, all of which were huge. Sharp gables jutted up toward the pine canopy, and a high-pitched A-frame glass wall dominated the lake-facing center of the house. A wooden wrap-around deck surrounded it, with steps leading up to the front door.

“Not bad, huh?” Rhys asked. He swung both of our duffel bags over his shoulder like they weighed nothing at all, his hand dropping casually to the small of my back as he led me toward the front steps. The heat of his palm sank straight through my sweater.

The inside looked exactly as I expected—dark hardwood floors, exposed timber beams on the ceiling, anchored by a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace that looked like it had been built using rocks pulled straight from the lakebed. A long, polished wooden dining table that led into an open-concept kitchen with warm oak cabinetry and a wide breakfast bar. It was grand, but it didn’t feel like a museum. It felt even more lived-in than his house, with flip-flops in a pile by the back door, towels hanging from hooks in the sunroom, stacks of worn board games on a side table, and the unmistakable smell of roasted garlic filling the air.

“Hey guys,” Justin’s voice came from the opposite direction of the kitchen. I looked over and saw him and Kelcey cuddling on the couch. Kelcey’s hair was pulled up in a claw clip and she was wearing a linen shirt unbuttoned over a white bikini, like she’d already been down to the dock and only just came back up. “Traffic bad?”

“Crawled through Barrie, but otherwise fine,” Rhys replied casually, his hand slipping down to rest firmly on my hip bone. He squeezed slightly, a silent command for me to play along.

I leaned into him, resting my shoulder against his chest, and smiled. “It wasn’t too bad. We had great music.”

Kelcey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Rhys’s road trip playlists are something. He used to force me to listen to those terrible nineties grunge tracks every time we drove anywhere near the lake.”