Page 10

T o avoid my grandmother, who likely wasn’t on the phone—my luck was not that good—I climbed up the back of the garage, scuttled across the roof, and slid into my bedroom via the window I never locked.

I’m too old for this!

Glancing at my reflection, I had to begrudgingly admit that this was the most excitement I’d had in ages. While it might be ridiculous to hide from my grandparents and sneak around like a teen, I couldn’t deal with their negativity right now.

Not that they’d ever caught me in the walk of shame.

The grandsons? The inheritors of the farm and the hope for the future? Yeah, they could come home still drunk from the bar and so long as they hadn’t driven home, they received a hug or slap on the back with their morning cup of coffee.

The granddaughter coming from the boat in her satin PJs? That might earn me a trip to the nunnery. Not that my devout Protestant grandparents normally threatened Papist punishments, but this might just be the exception.

Muttering about the unfairness of it all, I bounced into a pair of scrub pants, tugged a bra over the ladies, and pulled a tee over my torso before the scrub top came down. The second day wash on my hair was acceptable, but as I flicked the shoulder length strands into a high pony, I paused.

“Is this a date?” I pointedly asked the reflection.

No… the voice of reason began as my inner goddess raised her voice in protest.

It’s just me being neighborly, reason insisted.

“So why do I have the urge to tug on a cute sundress, brush on some makeup, and try to do something I don’t have time for to my hair?” I arched a brow.

The seconds ticked by—one, two, three.

Because Kole is hot.

And he was different. He was as different from the local boys as a guy could be. But he also stood out from the lake crowd. There was something intriguing about him. I wanted to peel back his layers and find the man who lurked underneath.

Groaning at my reflection, I launched into a scrambled makeover. The hair would have to stay as it was. I didn’t have time for that. A layer of powder dusted my face. A hint of bronze swept over my eyelids. I darkened my brows and lashes, and lined my eyes. After dabbing on some lip gloss, I liked what I saw.

“He was rude, trying to kick me out,” I muttered, shrugging out of my scrubs and jumping into a soft purple sundress.

But I’m sure he had his reasons.

Whatever spell he’d fallen into last night, he was likely more embarrassed by it than actually pissed off. It was like a dog. He barked, but the reason for it wasn’t true anger. Canines never really grew mad. Scared, uncomfortable, they barked to let you know. That was how I read Kole.

“Which is why I’m making this otherwise ridiculous effort,” I informed my reflection.

Tote bag with work clothes over my shoulder, I bounded downstairs and slid into my cowgirl boots, because strappy sandals would be too dressy for the diner.

“What, no swimming lesson this morning?” Grandma called from the kitchen.

“Nope!” Snatching my keys, I almost made it out the door before she came around the half wall.

“Why are you dressed like that?” my grandmother demanded.

“Meeting a friend for breakfast,” I said sweetly.

“Who?”

“I’m going to Betty’s,” I deflected. “I’ll see if she’s got any chocolate silk pie.”

Granny narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you go spending all your hard-earned money on things like pie. You shouldn’t be going out to breakfast either.”

“I have to have some fun.” I pecked a kiss on her cheek. “I close tonight, so don’t wait up.”

Having successfully avoided the inquisition, I bolted to my little speedster and took off before Grandpa or one of the boys caught me. There was no long-term potential with Kole. Whatever spark of connection we found, I wanted to keep that private and sacred. I knew what my grandparents would think of him. It didn’t matter how likable he was, the moment they found out who he was and where he lived, they would dislike him.

“This is just a friendly, neighborly brunch,” I repeated. The upbeat song on the radio sent my blood pumping. It wasn’t strong enough to hide the wings of anticipation fluttering in my stomach.

Gravel skidded under my wheels as I pulled into the already busy parking lot outside the quaint diner. Betty’s Home Cooking was a beloved spot. A quick scan showed an array of pickups, vans, and other middle-income vehicles. Although older, mine was the sportiest car in the lot.

I frowned. It was exactly seven a.m. Kole should be here. But there was no sleek nor sporty car. Grabbing the strap of my wallet and phone, I hurried inside. The clatter of breakfast eaters greeted me. The scent of rich, greasy meats sizzling on the griddle was second only to the strong and refreshing burst of coffee.

“Hya Har!” Gemma called out. “Long time, no see.”

I threw her a half smile while continuing to search the faces. “I’m meeting someone here, Gemma.”

The waitress gave me a strange look but then a slow smile spread over her face. “A guy? About six and a half feet?”

“Yeah?” I gulped.

Her grin turned wicked. “Try the back room.”

Oh, lanta. Waving my thanks, I wove through the noise. Bars might not be clean, but they didn’t have the same sticky quality that diners always seemed to have. I narrowly avoided stepping in a syrup spill on the cracked and worn floor.

My heart pattered wildly in my chest as I stumbled through the partition.

“Harley.” His powerful bass brushed against my skin like an intoxicating caress.

Holy cow, he did not belong in a place like this. Sitting at a two-top, a black henley shirt, sleeves pulled to his wrists, molded to his body as a second skin. His whole aura pulsed with something different. Dangerous and terrifying. He might as well be an alien from a spaceship, so at odds with everything normal.

I hurried forward, drawn to that strange pull.

“Kole,” I smiled, hyper aware that every pair of eyes was watching even if they weren’t staring at me. “I didn’t see your vehicle out there.”

He tipped his head, stormy eyes grey in the soft lighting. “Do you even know what I drive?”

I faltered. “No, I guess I don’t. But I assumed some luxury European model.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing flashy. I prefer to blend in.”

As if he could…. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

His brows drew together. “Did you expect anything less?”

Words stammered on the tip of my tongue, but Gemma saved me by gliding to the table with a pot of freshly brewed goodness. “Bless you,” I breathed. “Keep it coming?”

Chuckling, the waitress set an even larger mug down and splashed the heavenly black liquid into it. “I pulled one of our cups from the back.”

“You know me so well,” I beamed.

“You sure you don’t want some, hun?” Gemma asked Kole.

I slid a look in his direction.

“Just water,” he rumbled. “Thank you.”

“Well, then, what are we hungry for?” Gemma coaxed. “We have a strawberry waffle special this morning and a Philly omelet.”

“The strawberries are canned, aren’t they?” I gave my friend a leveled look.

Gemma scrunched her nose and nodded. “You know they don’t make things from scratch around here.”

“All the more pity. Whenever you decide to open your café, let me know,” I pushed.

The wistful look spread over Gemma’s face, but I knew the answer before she said it. “That’s the dream, Har.”

It had been her dream for years, and here she was, still serving unimaginative food that came off the Sysco truck.

“French toast, over easy eggs, and bacon for me,” I ordered, not even needing to look at the menu. “But did you need a minute, Kole?”

He shook his head. “I’ll have the same. Extra side of bacon, please.”

Gemma sauntered away, leaving behind a sudden rush of awkwardness.

“So…a café?” Kole broke the silence.

I nodded, grateful for the topic of conversation. “There’s a farm-to-table café in Lake Geneva—the town twenty minutes south of here. Gemma wants to open one in Moosehorn that focuses on local ingredients with a rotating seasonal menu. She’d work with farmers to have cleaner food choices. For instance, we have a beautiful strawberry crop that starts at the end of this month and goes strong through next month. Gemma’s waffles would be fresh ground flour with seasonal toppings like that. She makes a mean sourdough, which elevates her French toast!”

I clapped my mouth shut, realizing that I’d been rambling.

“As opposed to what they serve here.” Kole lifted his water, took a sip, and grimaced.

“Exactly.” I nodded to his cup. “The pipes here are old and give it that pungent taste.”

“Yet they’re packed,” Kole observed.

I nodded. “It’s a phenomenon, that’s for sure. But it’s not like there are many choices for breakfast around the lake.”

“So your friend’s dream is a café, but yours is….” One dark brow lifted.

I brushed my fingertip against the single carnation in the bud vase, a pitiful attempt to liven up the place. “I’m going to veterinary school this fall.”

“Tell me about it,” he insisted, voice velvety and soft. Almost like a tangible caress.

Warmth spread through me. It was strange to have someone genuinely want to know. My answer to his question started slowly enough, but when I found only encouragement in his brief responses and steady gaze, I loosened my hold. The plans and dreams became animated as they poured out to a sympathetic listener.

“So while I want animals, it would be more of a sanctuary than a farm,” I trailed off as the food arrived.

That was the longest I’d talked on the subject.

Kole spoke so low, I almost didn’t catch what he said. “It’s nice to have cousins to take over the family business.”

I blinked rapidly, unsure if he was talking about me or…someone else. When he didn’t elaborate, I carved into my French toast.

“Dig in.” I smiled.

Kole nodded, looking at the rack of syrups Gemma dropped off.

“It’s not real maple syrup,” I confided. “That’s why I just eat mine with extra butter. Their French toast is tasty enough it doesn’t need it, though.”

“I’ve never had French toast.”

My jaw dropped. Thankfully, there wasn’t food in my mouth. “How is that possible? I would have thought you’d eaten it every time you went to France, sitting in one of those bougie restaurants with a view of the Eiffel Tower.”

“The three times I’ve been to Paris, I haven’t been to the Tower.” Kole popped a bite of pancake into his mouth.

“But you have been to Paris?” I nudged. Finally! We were talking about him.

“Yes.”

I waved my hand for him to elaborate. “What did you see? What was your favorite thing to eat and drink? Did you go dancing with a pretty little coquette or were you there shmoozing with a group of models?”

“It was a business trip.”

“All work and no play?” I pouted. “Tell me you did not go to the most romantic city on earth just to sit in an office.”

“Not an office.” Something dark flashed in his eyes. “This is a good cake. But I think I’ll try the fake syrup.”

I leaned forward. Come on, give me something . “What do you do for work?”

He looked up at me from under his brows. The lid slid over the syrup container, cutting off the flow. “I’m part of a project management division. Chief risk mitigation officer.”

“In normal people speak that means…?”

“I eliminate risks before they become problems,” Kole said smoothly.

With a huff, I sat back and focused on my food. It was clear he didn’t want to tell me details. And a little part of me, the part that urged me I was a farmer’s daughter and wasn’t able to know any better, said I wouldn’t understand the complex nuances of the corporate work if I tried.

“Over a year ago, I went solo on a personal project,” Kole offered.

Looking up and meeting his gaze, I saw something turbulent. Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell me, but he couldn’t. And not because I wouldn’t understand.

“You work for yourself?” I asked, hoping my theory was right.

He nodded. “I do.”

Grateful for the genuine response, I tried again. “So even working for yourself, you can come to the lake for a few days?”

“A short-term sabbatical.”

It’s temporary. But the feeling in my chest, the one that glowed when we talked, begged me to keep trying.

By the time we paid and left, I couldn’t tell if it was a date or something more. I would spend all day at work sorting through the pros and cons of doing it again. The bright, enticing scent had me stopping by the overgrown bush that leaned against the diner. I leaned forward to drink in the lilacs.

“Pretty.” Kole stared at me with an intensity that stole my breath.

“They’re my favorite. They only bloom in the spring. Most of the bushes have dried up because of the warmer weather we’ve had, but this one’s in the shade,” I rushed to say, hating how warm my cheeks were.

Kole hummed.

Now that we were away from the prying eyes inside the diner, I knew the words I had to say. The elephant needed to be addressed before I could pursue that look any further. “Look, I’m sorry about invading your privacy last night. It won’t happen again.”

His voice tightened. “Thank you for not letting me drown.”

A grin spread across my face. “Anytime.”

“Don’t do it again.”

I flinched, not moving fast enough to hide the reaction by grabbing the keys from my pocket. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Harley.” Kole stepped into me. “It’s dangerous.”

He stood so close, large frame crowding me. I had to tip my head back to meet his towering gaze.

“It’s not safe to be around me,” he murmured.

That was an odd thing to say. It had to be the trance he was talking about, because we’d been swimming together every morning, and he was at the Landing every night. I needed to clarify what he meant but couldn’t bring myself to ask him outright about his condition.

“Are you backing out of your swimming lessons?” I braced myself for the response. Maybe that was why he agreed to breakfast. To let me down easily.

“The forecast is calling for rain and storms tomorrow morning. But I expect another lesson the day after.”

Relief swept through me. “I’ll see you tonight? For supper.”

Kole nodded. “Tonight.” Another moment passed. His gaze dropped to my mouth. But then his lips pressed tight, his body stiffened, and he took a step back.

Alrighty then. Muttering a goodbye, I hurried away, disappointment that he didn’t kiss me haunting my steps.