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She was living her life the way she wanted. As for me? Well, I was living my life, but it wasn’t the one I wanted.
How in hell had I managed to get to this place? Alone on New Year’s Eve, holed up in a cabin with no heat or hydro, with only Boyd Appleton standing between me and certain death.
Okay. Stop being dramatic. I wasn’t going to die. At least, I hoped not. In a few hours, the sun would come up, Mr. Davis would open the main house, and I’d figure out my shit. Hopefully without laying eyes on Boyd again, because I couldn’t go another round with him. I didn’t have it in me.
A girl could hope, couldn’t she?
I sank back into the sofa and pulled the blanket up to my chin. I was so tired. So done with it all. And that wasn’t fair, not really, considering I’d just turned twenty-three. It made me sad to feel this way on the first day of a new year. I closed my eyes, and even though my plan was to forget everything and try to sleep, my exhausted mind wouldn’t let me. I thought of that summer in Louisiana. The summer when everything changed. The summer my dad made us spend with him and his new bride, Iris, and her sons Bodhi and Boyd.
The plantation, Live Oaks, had belonged to my father’s people for generations. It was alive with a past that had infiltrated our blood and lived in his music. Axel Mansfield was the king of blues and rock. A god with a guitar. He had the voice of an angel on crack. It was full-blown melody with runs and feel and pain. It was why he was one of the most famous musicians in the world and toured constantly. His life didn’t leave room for much else other than music and touring, which sucked for me and my sisters.
He told me once that the only place he felt settled was Live Oaks. It was why he brought Iris and her sons there. It was why he insisted I and my sisters come as well. He’d wanted things to work. For our families to blend. Instead, we circled each other like sharks, and in the end, it had been a disaster.
That summer had been hot. The kind of hot that makes steam rise from the pavement and creep along the ground like fog. The kind of hot that makes a girl bothered and twitchy. Makes her think of things she shouldn’t. Like sex. And Boyd Appleton.
I didn’t want to think about that summer anymore. But something in me was determined to go back there, and I couldn’t stop myself.
The swimming hole was my place. None of my sisters ever came out here because there wasn’t any Wi-Fi or concierge service, for that matter. Plus the hike took a good twenty minutes. God forbid Harmony sweat or Lyric actually, you know, exercise.
There was a large live oak that spread its branches over the water like an embrace. Moss hung in clumps, and the air was alive with the sound of big old toads and grasshoppers. Late afternoon, the cicadas would sing, and I’d float in the water and pretend I was anywhere but where I was. Stuck in Louisiana while my friends were in the Hamptons.
We’d arrived two days ago, and for the most part, Iris’s sons had kept to themselves. Harmony spent most of her time online or on the phone ignoring everyone, and Lyric was more interested in reading an old copy of Flowers in the Attic. As for me? The Appleton boys fascinated me, or at least Boyd did.
But he also made me nervous. He was the guy every girl fantasized about. Tall. Hot. Confident. Cocky. He was two years older than me, and every time his dark eyes landed on mine, I blushed. Or forgot what I was going to say. I’d been avoiding him since the first night when he’d handed me a plate of crawdaddies at the dinner table and I dropped it. All because his fingers touched mine, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I wanted to die. He looked at me and grinned.
So yeah. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him because the embarrassment level was code red with a capital R.
I escaped and lay on the grass at the edge of the swimming hole, reading magazines and listening to old-school rock. You know, the good stuff. Skynyrd and Zeppelin. After a while, the heat got to me. I tossed my clothes to the ground and jumped in. The water was cool, refreshing, and I floated, losing myself in the quiet, in the ancient feel of this place. I stared up at the live oak and wondered how old it was. One hundred years? Two hundred? Five?
Not sure how long I pondered that question, but when I heard a splash, I yanked my body under the water so fast, it made my head spin. I sputtered to the surface and clawed at the hair in my face.
And nearly died because Boyd Appleton was treading water a few feet from me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, frantic because I was one hundred percent naked. I mean, bathing suits were so passé…weren’t they?
A slow grin spread across his face, and my stomach dipped. I kicked back, trying to put some distance between us.
“Looking at you.” His voice sent shivers racing down my spine. Who knew that was a thing?
“Don’t come any closer.”
But he didn’t listen, and I kinda froze in place. When he was close enough that I knew if he looked down, he’d see things he shouldn’t see, I found my voice.
“Boyd. Don’t.”
He stopped at the sound of my voice, but then his gaze lowered and stayed there for so long that by the time he met my eyes again, my cheeks were as red as the apples in the bowl on the kitchen counter.
“You like to skinny-dip.” He paused. “So do I.”
“What?” I looked down and then yanked my head back up. “This is my place. You need to leave.”
That grin of his widened. “I don’t see your name on it.” He glanced over his shoulder, back to the live oak. “Is there a sign somewhere? Did I miss it?”
“I mean it. You can’t be in here with me and…”
“And?” His eyebrows shot up, his dark eyes not leaving mine.
“You’re like my brother now.”
