Page 29 of Wildest Dreams

Him in a pair of drenched workout shorts and me wearing – what? – his shirt and a pair of panties?

Being with Tanner is dangerous, especially when it’s just the two of us. He’s as reckless as I am, and when we’re naked we get downright stupid.

I gracefully dip down to collect my phone from the wood and, lifting my nose in the air, I tell him, “Actually, I’m working.”

His cheek tics up for the briefest of seconds.

“Baby, all you’re doing right now is working that pretty mouth.”

He swims slowly closer, strong and silent.

“It’s a Saturday, Aisling. Get down here and we can tick something off your bucket list.”

I blink quickly, alarmed, and then almost jump out of my skin as a tiny knock sounds behind me.

I whip around and see Fallon, still in her dress from last night, beaming up at me, fresh as a daisy. She’s pointing to something on the screen of her phone and when I tiptoe closer to the door I see that it’s the hardware store’s weekend opening times.

Saturday: 7am – 12pm.

Sunday: CLOSED.

I breathe out a shaky, grateful exhalation, relieved that she’s here with me to keep me on the straight and narrow – to keep mefocused. If we head out in five we can get pancakes at the Larch Peak diner, and then make our way to the hardware store just as it opens. That gives me the whole day once we get back to start hauling all of the debris from the lake house and potentially give each room it’s preliminary clean-down, the perfect time to check for any major issues with the wood panelling and any sockets.

I give her an enthusiastic nod and she blows me a kiss before signalling that she needs two minutes to get changed. Hunter is still laying half-out of Fallon’s sleeping bag, palms pressed into his eyes as he lets out a low early morning groan. When he drops his hands he shoves himself to his feet, lazily moving our way so that he can give Fallon a rough squeeze from behind, and he drops a kiss to her cheek before she starts explaining our plan for the morning to him.

While they’re momentarily occupied I chance one more look over my shoulder and see that Tanner is still waiting for me silently in the bright morning sunspot, water lapping gently at his broad hockey player shoulders in endless golden swirls.

As reckless as I am, I remind myself.

Then I spin around on my heel and rush back inside the lake house.

*

I wipe the back of my wrist over my forehead as I finally sit myself down, my short denim overalls covered in dust and both of my knees rubbed red raw. I keep my back pressed against the wall beside the front door and take in the sight of my full day’s handiwork.

The lake house is shining from the inside out. Every surface that I could reach has been dusted and cleaned, ready to be sanded, painted and polished over in the coming days. Even without any furniture, the wooden walls and floors make the place seem cosy and warm.

It’s inviting. Intimate. I tip my head to the side, the last of the day’s summer light streaking through the large first floor windows, and I bask in the silence, listening mindfully to nothing but the lapping of the lake.

I breathe deep and even, tired but satisfied for my first day’s results.

A tiny vibration buzzes in my dungaree pouch, pulling me from my sunset bathing, and I lazily slip my baby pink phone out of the pocket.

It’s a text from Fallon, containing a photo of maybe thirty burgers in the back of someone’s car, with the captionyour feast awaitsand, like, ten thousand heart-eyes emojis.

I send her back the emoji of my spirit animal – the crawling baby – and tentatively lift myself from the floor, fluffing the fly-away wisps from my face as I nudge the door open with my sandal. There’s instant hollering from the other side of the lake as I begin casually making my way down the porch steps, hands in my hair to reaffix my fluffy bun. I flash a smile to the hockey boys who are whistling at me like they’ve just seen a Hollywood actress.

“Oh my God, stop!” I call over to them, shimmering with delight when they continue for my whole walk over. I’m blushing and hiding my dimples with my hands by the time that I reach their make-shift log-dining situation, comprised of three big pieces of lumber around a not-yet-lit campfire.

“Embarrassing,” I say when the guys wrap me in some sort of group bear hug, even though I haven’t stopped smiling for a single second.

Fallon teeters over from the log that she’s been sharing with Hunter and she presents a baggie of burgers and fries to me as if it’s made of diamonds.

I give my own diamonds a little rub, having totally forgotten that I was even wearing them.

They were a gift from my ex. I really ought to stop wearing them.

“Thank you so so so–” I begin, but then I stop my hand mid-reach as a thought suddenly crosses my mind. I retract my hand like I’ve just touched a hot flame and my wide eyes immediately dart to hers.

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