Page 80 of Wildest Dreams

I pull us to a sharp stop in front of the ranger’s door and I look down at her, eyes burning as they meet hers.

Her lashes flutter as she tilts her head back to look up at me.

“Tanner?” she asks warily, brows arching as if she’s afraid of the answer.

But I don’t need to give it to her. She already knows the truth.

I brush the pad of my thumb over her soft cheruby cheek and then wrap my hand back around her wrist. I open the door for her so that we can head back to my car.

“Come on,” I say, my voice deeper than usual as I jerk my chin for her to walk through the door first, and then follow behind her. There’s an almost-smile playing on my lips. “Let’s share that muffin.”

Chapter 21

Aisling

Present day

I pad out from the front door of the lake house and lean my hip against the porch railing, doing a brief wave to the delivery van as it slowly reverses beside my brother’s 4x4.

It’s the first time in four weeks that clouds have appeared in the sky – thick grey thunderclouds that blanket out every inch of light.

I peek up from under the canopy overhead, eyeing the weather warily as the driver jumps down from the van. Sandy dust kicks up around his boots, and he pulls the heavy door open at the back of his vehicle.

“You want help hauling this into a particular room?” he calls over to me, as he and his colleague begin mutually lifting and manoeuvring the first piece of the bed-frame down from the back.

“Please,” I say, as they carefully make their way up the porch steps, turning the wood on its side as they breach their way through the front door. I follow in a couple of steps behind them, not wanting to get in their way when they’ll be doing more than a few trips back and forth between the house and the van.

I point my finger above my head, gesturing to the guy who is walking backwards up the stairs that the master bedroom is at the front of the property.

He nods. “Gotcha.”

After that I move back out to the porch, rolling my lips into my mouth as I look out towards the left, letting my eyes follow the trail of the silvery lake, rippling gently under the darkening sky.

Over the past week I have started to collate and order all of the pieces for the lake house’s interior that will pull the property together and transform it from a house into a home. So now the open-plan downstairs living area has a multitude of still-wrapped sofas filling the space, as well as a number of made-to-order wooden tables and a few cosy décor pieces. All still untouched and in their cardboard boxes.

The delivery of the bed-frame for the master bedroom is the last essential item that I needed before I start unwrapping all of these pieces and finally turn this place into what it was always meant to be: rustic, rich, cosy. The perfect escape for when someone feels the call to come back to nature. With the glistening lake out the front and the emerald forest beyond the back the location couldn’t be any more perfect, so it’s my job to tie it all together by making the inside just as dreamy as the out.

It really is going to be the most beautiful home.

I hear the final piece of wooden bed-frame thump against the upstairs wall and I glance over my shoulder through the doorway, wondering how long it will take me to construct all of those pieces together.

Seeing as this is my first semi-official project for my family’s company my parents had given me a two month timeframe to get the whole thing done, but I had obviously wanted to finish it ahead of schedule, to prove myself to them by showing them how capable I am.

The guys duck out of the front door and give me a quick nod and a smile as they trudge down the porch steps.

I turn my back to the gently shimmering water and gaze wistfully at the house before me, a small sparkle of satisfaction in my chest as I take in the fact that all of the hard work is now done. From this point on all I have left are the aesthetic finishing touches. I let out a tiny sigh of relief, proud of what I’ve achieved so far but not yet feeling complete. There’s still work left to do.

The sound of a cabin door opening across the lake pulls me out of my daydream and I turn around, resting my palms back on the top of the porch railing. Connell had fitted a new working lock in the lake house’s front door, so Tanner and I switched accommodations again last weekend.

Tanner walks slowly out of the front door of his cabin, his gait heavy with sleep as he rubs his palms into his eyes. He’s wearing a cotton shirt stretched thin over his broad chest, and unbelted jeans sitting low on his strong hips.

I’m pretty sure that he spent yesterday in Carter Ridge with his mom – mainly because, when we were all having breakfast around the campfire yesterday morning, he said as much to Hunter, very loudly, all while looking me dead in the eyes.

Yeah, okay, it felt good to know where he was going. And even though I don’t doubt that he’s super interested in me, I was relieved to have the confirmation that he wasn’t, like, hooking up or something.

Since taking me to the range last Saturday, Tanner has been cautiously optimistic with befriending me, which ironically enough has absolutely delighted Connell. Connell is such a freaking cinnamon roll that as soon as he watched Tanner knock at the lake house door on Sunday morning, so that he could walk me over to where everyone was eating breakfast, Connell got all excited and decided that Tanner is now his ‘third best friend’– with me being his first, and Fallon and Logan being ‘joint second’.

A small dot of rain hits my knuckle with a littlethump, and I blink myself out of my thoughts before brushing the back of my hand against my baby pink sundress. I glance up at the heavens and watch as the deep slate clouds roll by faster, dark and thunderous.

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