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Bea’s pointed comments at dinner had found their mark and hooked in.
It wasn’t like I’d planned to be single at thirty-eight. I’d gone into each of my three major relationships thinking they’d surely turn out to be The One, but then they just…hadn’t. No tragedies there—I’d always consoled myself I’d rather be single than make a permanent mistake like marry the wrong man. But Bea’s conclusion my singleness stemmed from some kind of failure on my part left me lying in bed staring into darkness, cataloging inadequacies.
I didn’t get nearly enough sleep before my phone alarm woke me in the morning. Hazy light shone through the window as I scrabbled to shut off the low buzzing. Rubbing at my bleary eyes, I thumbed off the alarm and found a text from Jill. It included a picture of Shatner, his eyes shut and tongue lolling, tucked in bed next to her husband Ed, along with a note.
Jill: Who’s the Silver Fox?
I stared at the screen trying to decode her message. Shatner did have gray hair, but silver fox seemed a stretch—although I would have to start calling him that when I got home. Ed’s blond head wasn’t remotely gray. Maybe I’d missed a text?
I scrolled up to the braggy photo I’d sent of the lodge. Duncan stood on the doorstep with his arms folded, glowering straight into the camera. I’d been so taken by the glorious old building, I hadn’t even realized he’d loomed in the doorway when I took the shot.
I enlarged the picture until his face filled the screen: stern brow, the barest shine of stubble on his head, impressive full beard. Staring longer than I would have dared in person, I did find him handsome, in aDon’t mess with mesort of way.
Silver Fox was on point.
Not that Jill needed to know I agreed with her. If she caught so much as a whiff of interest, she would hound me about this guy the rest of the trip. Happily paired off friends always wanted everyone else to have the same happiness.
Molly: Duncan—he lives in London
Harlow’s bed sat empty. She’d probably woken early and already gone down for breakfast. I sorted through my luggage for appropriate clothes, but my phone buzzed. Jill must have been up with Olivia, because she’d texted right back.
Jill: Vacation hottie’s not bad
I laughed at how quickly my prediction had come true. If she knew his last name, she would probably stalk him online for me and write up a report with every last detail of the man’s private life.
Molly: I’m just here for the scenery
Jill: Loser. Keep me updated on the sexy Brit
Molly: Scot
Jill: Even better!
My mom had sent one of her rare texts.
Mom: Keep an eye out for available men!
Lovely. Now I had three women ready to harass me about my love life.
The pathetic water pressure took a little of the shine off the thrill of staying in fabulous old lodges. I had a quick shower under a dribbling stream, but I might as well have rubbed myself down with a wet wipe. At least the water stayed hot. I wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and stepped out of the ensuite to find the room door wide open. Carlos leaned against the jamb mid-conversation with Harlow, who rummaged through her suitcase.
“Good morning.”
His wide, cheeky grin somehow made me feel even more naked. Would it be more or less dignified to run right back into the bathroom? Since I wasn’t sure how much of my backside the towel covered, I stayed put.
“Do you mind…?” I flicked my fingers toward the door.
He caught the hint, but he wasn’t quick about it.
“I’ll catch up with you outside, Harlow.” He smirked at me as he backed out, finally pulling the door shut.
Harlow hadn’t looked up from her luggage. “Carlos wanted to know about my yoga practice so I’m going to take him through a session out on the lawn. I just needed a strap. Do you want to join us for a few asanas?”
Strap in hand, Harlow finally stood and realized I still dripped in the bathroom doorway.
“After you get dressed.”
As though if she hadn’t clarified, I might have joined them in the nude. Wait, was naked yoga a real thing? I didn’t want to know.
