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She runs her hands through her hair and then crosses and uncrosses her arms like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them. And then she looks down at herself. Her hands go to her stomach. “Oh fuck me. I’m so burned! How am I going to get rid of this?” In the center of her stomach is a very obvious book-shaped tan line.
I bite my bottom lip and try not to laugh, but her expression is priceless. “I guess no crop tops for you this weekend, huh?”
“I’m too old for crop tops.” Her gaze meets mine and then drops, moving over me on a slow sweep. “I just pulled you into the water, didn’t I?”
“I was planning to go for a dip anyway.” I grab the towel from the back of my chair and pass it to her.
“Getting dragged into the water and willingly jumping in aren’t quite the same.” She drapes the towel over her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I think you introduced yourself, but I missed it because I was panic-flailing. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Her gaze roves over me again. “You don’t look hurt, but you do look like you could do a lot of damage in a fight.”
I grin. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
She drops her head, hiding her smile. “If you want to, sure.” She peeks up at me again. “Do you know what time it is? I have no idea how long I’ve been floating.”
“It’s closing in on five thirty, last time I checked.”
Her eyes go wide. “No. You can’t be serious.”
I hold out my arm with my smart watch and tap the face so it lights up. “It’s five thirty-eight.”
“I’ve been floating for nearly six hours. I don’t understand how I got here. I don’t even know what side of the lakehereis.”
Pearl Lake is a lot smaller than Lake Geneva, but it’s still a lot of water to cover on a paddleboard. “You’re on the north side.”
“Thenorthside? Yeesh.”
“Where’s your cottage?”
“In Pearl Bay, on the south side of the lake.”
“You wanna use my phone to call someone? A boyfriend maybe?” I’m totally fishing.
“That was subtle.” She arches a brow and gives me a wry grin. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That’s excellent news. I don’t have a girlfriend, in case you were wondering. And my name is Maverick.” I extend my hand.
She blinks. “Maverick? Is that a nickname or a given name?”
“Given. And surprisingly, my parents aren’t hippies.”
“Did your mom likeTop Gunor something?” She slips her hand into my palm.
I watch as goose bumps rise along both of our arms. “Actually yeah, she did. At least until Tom Cruise sort of . . . went out of style.” I reluctantly release her hand.
“Ah, well, that’s fair. I’m Clover.” She dips her head, and if her cheeks weren’t already pink with too much sun, I’d guess she was blushing. “And my parents were absolutely hippies. Please don’t make a joke about four leaves and being lucky.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Clover-without-a-boyfriend.”
We smile at each other for a few seconds. She’s definitely older. Maybe mid-twenties. My size makes me look a little older than I am, and so does the fact that by the end of the day I have a hint of shadow on my cheeks, unlike my older brother, Robbie, who can still get away with shaving twice a week.
“Can I get you a bottle of water? Or a soda? You must be parched.” I flip open the cooler and rummage around, setting cans on the arm of my Adirondack chair.
“Water would be amazing. Thank you.” She plucks a bottle from between two cans of soda and then looks up toward the cottage set back on the hill behind us. “Oh wow. Are you renting this place?”
“My aunt and uncle own it.”
“Wow.” She lets out a low whistle. “What are they, movie stars or something?” She cringes. “Sorry, that was so rude.”
“My uncle’s a retired NHL player.”
