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She smiled. “You never said it was a secret. I stopped by to see a friend and told her you were back. She was surprised.”
“That’s one way to put it. She gave me an earful.”
The barista handed Maya her latte. Maya took it and started for the door. “If you’re expecting me to feel guilty about that, it’s so not happening. How could you not bother telling your mother you were coming home? I’m not the bad guy here.”
Del fell into step with her. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
He held open the door for Brew-haha. When they got to the sidewalk, he pointed to the left and she walked along with him. Because, well—why not?
“You’re saying I should have let her know I was home for the rest of the summer?”
“Speaking as your mom’s friend, yes, you should have told her you were coming. Or that you’d arrived. And if you didn’t want me to tell her, you should have said something. If she scolded you, it’s your own fault. I accept absolutely no guilt or blame on the topic.”
He surprised her by laughing. “You always did have attitude.”
Back then it had been bravado. She liked to think she now had a little experience or even substance to back it up.
They reached the lake. Del turned toward the path that led to the rental cabins on the far side. Maya went with him. The day was sunny and promised to be plenty warm. August was often the hottest part of summer in Fool’s Gold. Up in the mountains fall came early, but not in the town itself.
Along the shores of Lake Ciara, just south of the Golden Bear Inn, was a cluster of summer cabins. They ranged from small studios to large three-bedroom structures. Each cabin had a big porch with plenty of room for sitting out and watching the lake. There was a play area for the kids, a communal fire pit and easy walking access to Fool’s Gold.
Del led the way to one of the smaller cabins. There was plenty of seating on a surprisingly large porch.
“Not a suite at Ronan’s Lodge?” she asked, taking the chair he offered.
He settled next to her. “I spend enough time in hotels when I travel. This is better.”
“But there’s no room service.”
He glanced at her, one brow raised. “You think I can’t cook?”
It had been ten years, she thought. “I guess I don’t know that much about you.” Anymore. She didn’t say the last word, but she thought it. Because there had been a time when she’d known everything about Del. Not just his hopes and dreams, but how he laughed and kissed and tasted.
First love was usually intense. For her it had been that and more. With Del, for the first time in her life she’d allowed herself to hope she might not have to go it alone. That maybe, just maybe she could believe that someone else would be there for her. To look out for her. To give a damn.
“To start with, I can cook,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “There was a last-minute cancelation so I got the cabin.”
A couple of little boys played down by the water. Their mother watched from a blanket on the grass. Their shrieks and laughter carried over to them.
“It’s going to be noisy,” she said.
“That’s okay. I like being around kids. They don’t know who I am, and if they do, they don’t care.”
Some people would care, she thought, wondering how difficult his version of fame had become.
He’d made a name for himself on the extreme sports circuit. Crazy downhill snowboarding stunts had morphed into skysurfing. He’d become the face of a growing sport with the press clamoring to know why anyone would jump out of a plane with a board attached to their feet and deliberately spin and turn the whole way down.
After a few years of being a media darling, he’d made yet another change, designing a better board, and then starting the company that built them. That move had made him more mainstream—at least for the business crowd—and he’d become a popular guest on business shows. When he’d sold the company—walking away with cash and no announcing what he would do—he’d become the stuff of legends. A daredevil willing to take life on his own terms.
She’d wanted that once. Not the danger, but the being famous part. It would have been one of the perks of being in front of the camera instead of behind it. For her it hadn’t been about money or getting a reservation at a p
opular restaurant. It had been about belonging. That if others cared about her, she must have value. Be worthy, in some small way.
Time and maturity had helped her see the fallacy of that argument, but the hollowness of needing it had never completely gone away. With that dream over, she would have to find another way to make peace with her past.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
