Page 24

Wren

“ H e sees you like a sister. He’s made that clear. What the heck is wrong with you? ”

My pink toothbrush clinks down into the porcelain holder as I scold myself mid-rinse, still reeling after a sleepless night.

What’s wrong with me is that I trust Carson more than I trust anyone else.

What’s wrong with me is that I ignored reason and rode a wave of false bravery straight into a late-night swim—in my bra and panties. With him .

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head at the reminder that I stripped down like that in front of Carson last night.

Honestly, I should just be grateful I had a matching set on. Small mercies.

The washer buzzes in the other room, calling me to move my clothes to the next machine. I toss the wet clothes into the ancient dryer, turn the knob, and press the cracked start button.

Nothing happens.

“You have got to be kiddin’ me.”

My cheeks fill with air and then deflate with a dramatic sigh.

For the next twenty minutes, I attempt to troubleshoot the dryer—opening it, closing it, kicking it, unplugging and replugging it—but I still end up with a large hunk of metal that does absolutely nothing.

“That’s okay,” I encourage myself as I pull the clothes from the circular drum. “We know how to use a clothesline. Plenty of people have done that for centuries. This will give the clothes a nice… airy scent.”

I channel my inner optimist and gather the few items in my hands, thankful that I didn’t wait to wash a full load.

Walking out the back door, I make my way to the small clothesline tied between two skinny trees. I debated taking it down when I moved in, but apparently, the universe knew something I didn’t.

Of course there aren’t any clothespins on the line for me to use, and I obviously don’t have any, since I haven’t had to hang clothes on a line since I was a little girl.

Undeterred, I toss my outfit from yesterday and a few towels over the line, smoothing them out to prevent wrinkles. There’s zero breeze today, so I’m not too worried that they’ll blow off the line while I’m gone.

My shift at work doesn’t start until later this afternoon. I’m not sure how long it takes for clothes to dry on a line, but maybe they’ll be finished before I leave.

I dust off my hands and step back to inspect my handiwork. My eyes travel from the top of the clothesline down to the row of trees in the distance—the ones I know line the edge of Carson’s pond.

The memory of the cool water floods back, and I itch to return there and be one with nature again.

I want to float in the water and let all my stresses wash away as I breathe in the fresh air.

It would also be nice to allow my pale skin to soak up the warm sunlight, adding some much-needed color for summer.

And pretend I’m a woman who didn’t totally humiliate herself twelve hours ago.

Last night, Carson said he’d be up early to head to the diner and get back to work this morning. The man hasn’t stopped working since he moved back to town. Not that I don’t enjoy his company, but seeing him again, after… that , is at the very bottom of my to-do list.

The mental debate lasts only a second.

He won’t be there. I’ll be quick. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me using his pond.

I go back inside the house and make a quick call to the first handyman I can find online. After scheduling him to come and look at the dryer tomorrow, I head out the door before I can talk myself out of it.

It’s just a swim, and he’s not even there. Chill, woman.

By the time I reach the pond, a thin layer of sweat covers my entire body. The humidity hangs heavily in the air, and I can quite literally feel it in every crevice of my body.

Peeking over my shoulder, I double-check that no one can see me or has followed me out here. I may have talked a big game last night, but here in the daylight, I don’t think I’m brave enough to let anyone see me in my underwear.

I fold my clothes neatly on the dock and then slip into the dark water with a quiet splash.

The relief is instant. The cool water glides over my skin, washing away the heat and tension in one glorious wave.

When I surface, the warm air kisses my skin; the combination of water and sunlight on my body feels crisp and refreshing.

Without care, I fall onto my back and start to stroke my arms and kick my legs, coasting across the water, eyes closed. The world fades to nothing but smooth water flowing through my hair, slipping through my fingertips, and fresh air filling my lungs.

After a few lazy laps through the pond, I decide that’s enough bravery for one day.

That’s when I hear it.

A voice.

His voice.

“What are you doin’ here?”

I let out a startled yelp, spinning around in the water.

“What are you doin’ here?” I snap back, a little harsher than intended.

Carson stands at the edge of the dock, arms crossed over his chest, one brow raised. “What am I doin’ here? Last I checked, this is my property,” he says evenly. “What are you doin’ here?”

Embarrassment floods my cheeks.

“Right. Sorry, you just startled me.” I become acutely aware of my state of dress and hope the water conceals my body as I lower myself deeper.

“Why didn’t you call me?” His arms are still crossed as he watches me floating in the water.

“I thought you were at the diner.”

And I didn’t want a repeat of last night’s disaster.

“What time is it, anyway?” I hope the sudden change in topic will prevent him from remembering our last encounter.

“I came back to the house to grab some things and saw a little blonde head sneakin’ past my kitchen window. Thought I’d see what you were up to.” He clears his throat, eyes flicking to my exposed shoulders. “It’s almost noon.”

“Shoot,” I huff, paddling toward the dock. I reach for the small ladder, then freeze.

“You gettin’ out?” he asks, holding up a towel for me.

Where the heck did that come from?

“You brought me a towel? How’d you know what I was doin’?”

He sighs. “Wren, I always know what you’re up to. And I didn’t see a towel in your hands. Last night, I nearly froze my ass off walkin’ back to the house. Didn’t want you to do the same again.”

“Oh.” I stare hard at the old ladder, like its wooden rungs are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. “You can just leave it there.”

“Are you not gettin’ out? Sounded like you were gonna be late for work.”

Damn him for paying attention to me when I talk.

“Yeah. Well…” I shrug. “I’m just stayin’ in a little longer. It feels nice.”

A knowing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought it wasn’t any different than a swimsuit, Tink?”

“Yeah…” My cheeks flame. “It… It feels different in the daylight,” I admit.

“Hmm.” He tilts his head. “So, you want me to see you completely naked, but not in your underwear?”

He nods slowly with an amused smirk. “Got it.”

My face heats even more, and I groan, ducking until just my nose and eyes peek above the water like a mortified little swamp creature.

Carson chuckles and sets the towel down on the dock.

“Take your time, Tink. I’ll be inside.” He turns and walks back toward the house, giving me mercy—and privacy.

Once he’s gone, I finally exhale and sink deeper into the water.

Great.

I came here to clear my head, not relive my most awkward life choices in broad daylight.

I close my eyes and float again, letting the water carry me.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll dry off, get dressed, and pretend none of this ever happened.

Starting now.

I paddle back toward the dock, already mentally preparing my speech for the inevitable moment we run into each other again.

It begins with: “So, about last night…”

And ends with: “Please forget everything I’ve ever said while wet.”