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“Yeah?”
I nod.
“Maybe, lately, I’ve just needed a reason to,” he says cryptically.
We walk up the stairs to my front porch and face each other. Zane pushes my hair behind my shoulder. For such a surly, hard man, he’s surprisingly gentle.
“You totally like me,” I murmur.
“I do, huh?” He backs away a step or two. “I guess we’ll see, now, won’t we?”
We say good night, and I unlock the door. Zane watches until I’m tucked inside the house before disappearing into the darkness.
It didn’t dawn on me to ask him inside. And I don’t wonder how he really ended up walking me home in the first place—at least not until I’m thinking more clearly the next morning. But I do go to sleep that night in my rented cabin in the quiet mountain town with a smile on my face and the taste of IPA beer and Zane on my tongue.
It isn’t instant love.
But it’s definitely instant attraction.
CHAPTER THREE
WILLOW
My phone chimes, startling me awake. I immediately reach for it on the bedside table, my mind traveling to work and surgical patients and responsibilities. Dr. Cooper. I’m confused at first when I see a message from an unknown number. It takes me a moment to realize it’s from Wyatt. I never programmed his name into my phone last night.
Unknown Number: Swimming. Moose Falls. Be ready in an hour. Wear the smallest bikini you own.
I laugh, glancing around the room as my head finally registers where I am. The clock reads twelve thirty p.m., and I’m surprised. I never sleep this late. But it’s so quiet here and so peaceful. The sounds of the city are missing. The frantic pace of my job is in the rearview mirror. I don’t have to plan or rush around. The entire day spreads out before me with an easy freedom I’m unused to. I’m starting to feel relaxed, though lack of a schedule mostly makes me feel uneasy.
After programming Wyatt’s name into my cell, I stretch my arms overhead and lazily untangle my legs from the bed sheets. Iventure into the bathroom and cringe at my reflection. My hair is a mess, my eyes are bloodshot, and there’s a pounding in my forehead. I wash the makeup from last night off my face and take two ibuprofens.
A scene suddenly flashes through my head.
Zane.
Walking home.
Us kissing.
I’m frozen while staring at my reflection in the mirror. My fingertip grazes my bottom lip.
Memories from last night appear like a grainy picture show as I smile. Then, I groan, wondering if I said something to embarrass myself. My filter was missing for most of the night. Add in all the alcohol I drank, and I can’t remember everything I said or did. I do remember crying on the walk home. And I’m sure Zane and I wouldn’t have shared a kiss if we hadn’t been drinking the entire night.
I shake off the embarrassment and keep getting ready. I pull on a yellow string bikini and throw on a wide-necked sweatshirt and jean shorts over it while pondering who will be there today. I pull my hair into a messy bun, not bothering to straighten my wavy locks. It’s just going to get wet anyway. I leave my face bare, using a tinted moisturizer, and coat my lips in tinted ChapStick.
I eat an everything bagel with cream cheese and then brush my teeth twice to remove the onion and garlic smell from my breath. An hour later, I’m peering out the window with a large purse—more like a small bag—thrown over my shoulder. A loaded maroon 4Runner pulls into the driveway. I see Zane behind the wheel, and my heart skips a beat. I would’ve been disappointed if he hadn’t come today.
Wyatt jumps out of the front passenger seat and jogs up to my porch as I’m locking the door behind me.
“Ready?” he asks. His eyes grow hungry as he looks at me. He slides a finger beneath the yellow strap of my swimsuit, where it travels across my collarbone. “I see you listened to my instructions.” He snaps the nylon material against my skin with a smirk, lifting the edge of my sweatshirt at the neck and pretending to peer beneath it.
“Don’t push it,” I warn teasingly.
I swat his hand away with a laugh, though I’m not offended. Wyatt feels harmless, like someone I’ve known for a long time even though we only met last night. I’m betting that he’s the forever type of friend, though from the heat in his eyes, I think he might like to be more.
I follow Wyatt to the SUV and insist on riding in the back when he offers the front passenger seat to me. Benji is already back there, sitting behind Zane, and Chelsea is in the middle.
“Hi!” my neighbor squeals, hugging me hello.
