Page 62 of Dream Lake

Someone opened the front door.

Too startled to react, Zoë felt Alex yank her shirt back down. He grabbed a box from the island and carried it to the counter area near the sink.

“We’re here,” Justine announced, shouldering her way inside the cottage with a box in her arms. “Duane’s right behind me. Wow. Would you look at this place. Fantastic!”

It was difficult to think past the cloud of dream-colored heat that surrounded her. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Zoë asked, feeling swoony and unsteady as she retrieved the tiny remote control from the floor.

“It’s beautifulanda great investment,” Justine replied. “I’ll have no trouble renting this place out someday. Nice work, Alex.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, using a jackknife to open the box.

“Out of breath already, old man?” Justine asked with a grin. “It’s a good thing Duane’s here to help with the heavy lifting.”

“Look at this, Justine,” Zoë said hastily, before Alex could say a word. “Alex installed a special door for Byron.”

The electronic pet door was duly admired, while Duane entered the cottage with another couple of boxes.

Duane was a good-hearted man who attended his biker church regularly. He tended to be rowdy and impulsive, but he was loyal to his friends and always ready to help someone in need. His appearance was so intimidating—muscle-bulked arms protruding from leather vests, both arms sleeved with tattoos from wrist to shoulder, his face half obscured with boot-shaped sideburns—that it had taken Zoë a while to feel comfortable around him. But he seemed devoted to Justine, with whom he’d been going out for almost a year.

“I’m not the falling-in-love type,” Justine had once told her breezily, when Zoë had asked if the relationship with Duane might deepen into something permanent.

“You mean you’re leery of falling in love, or is there something about Duane—”

“Oh, I’m not leery of it. And Duane is great. It’s just that I can’t love anyone.”

“You’re a very loving person,” Zoë had protested.

“To friends and family, yes. But I can’t love someone in the romantic way you’re talking about.”

“But you have sex,” Zoë had said, bemused.

“Well, sure. People can have sex without love, you know.”

“Someday,” Zoë had said wistfully, “it would be nice to try both at the same time.”

More labeled boxes were brought in, including those containing Emma’s belongings. After Alex and Duane had left to get the furniture out of storage, Justine and Zoë unpacked shoes and handbags. They put them away on the shoe racks and shelves in the closet of the main bedroom. “I don’t remember all these built-ins being listed on the invoice,” Justine said. “It looks like Alex has been doing some extra work around here. Have you paid him on the side?”

“No, he did it without even asking,” Zoë said. “He really wants to make the house comfortable for Emma.”

Justine’s mouth twisted with wry amusement. “I don’t think Emma was the one he did it for. Is there something going on between you and the human iceberg?”

“No, nothing at all,” Zoë said emphatically.

Justine’s brows lifted. “I would have believed you if you said ‘a little flirtation here and there,’ or ‘we’ve gotten to be friends.’ But ‘nothing at all’… nope, I’m not buying it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is noticing.”

“What way?”

“Like he’s a starving climber who’s just been rescued after three days with no supplies, and you’re a Cinnabon.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zoë said.

“Okay.” Justine continued lining up shoes.

After a moment, Zoë burst out, “It’s not going to go beyond kissing. He’s made that clear.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because you already know my opinion.” Justine began to open another box.

“He’s a better man than you think he is,” Zoë couldn’t resist saying. “He’s a better man thanhethinks he is.”

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