Page 72

He laughs.

I scrunch my nose. “I mean—do you want to go out on the lake? In a kayak.”

Now, his eyebrows shoot up. “You’d let me invade your sacred time?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t make a thing of it or I’ll take back the invitation.”

“Not making a thing.” His hands go up in front of him. “I’d love to go.”

“Good. Put on some actual clothes and meet me down there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives a two-finger salute, which is warranted given how bossy I sounded just now, but then he smiles, and I shoo him out.

I watch him go, sipping my coffee and trying not to smile.

Ten minutes later, we’re loading our kayaks into the water.

We push off, slow at first, me feeling like I have to out-row him for some reason. I pull out in front, Noble just a tick behind me, content to let me lead. This is a little like letting him in on a secret. Like I’m sharing something I wouldn’t normally share.

I try not to overthink it as we row. I push the pace, all the way out to the middle of the lake, then I stop paddling to breathe, giving the burning in my arms a chance to subside.

Noble floats beside me, dragging his oar in the water to glide to a stop.

We’re both quiet, only the sound of nature playing in our ears. I listen to the familiar soft lap of the water against the side of the kayak, sense the sway of the surface, feel the clean, brisk mountain air. The sky stretches out in front of us, behind mountains dotted with trees that are starting to turn. It’s cooler now, and I inhale a slow breath.

Peaceful. Refreshing. Refilling.

“You do this every day?” he says, voice low, almost like he doesn’t want to disrupt the stillness.

I nod. “When the weather cooperates, yeah. It does snow six months out of the year here.” I smile at him. “Though, I’ve been known to bundle up and get out here even when it’s cold. Not in the water like you lunatics, just on it.”

“Living dangerously.”

My laugh is soft. “Not as dangerous as some.”

“Hey, now.” He shoots me a teasing smile.

We float, our kayaks slowly turning in a placid dance, pushed by the slow breeze and the ebb and flow of the water.

I look over and see he has his eyes closed. “It’s peaceful.”

“It sure is,” I say. “Another reason I wasn’t sad to move into the lodge. So many spots like this.” I look at him. “What do you do for quiet out there on the road?”

His face falls. “It’s always quiet.” A pause. “But not always peaceful.” He glances at me. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, actually. It does.”

He goes back to staring at the mountains. “I think this is what I’ve been missing.”

I let out a small, “Hm,” then go still.

“Say it,” he says with a soft smile.

“No, it’s just, you know—” I look away. “It’s been here all along.”