Page 44 of Anchored

I suddenly don’t care about dinner. I could skip right to the shower and consummating, but then I see that Maple’s gone out of her way to go to the nicest restaurant in town and get us takeout.

“Dock & Dine Bistro?” I ask, leaning down to kiss her cheek before taking my seat. “Are you trying to wine and dine me, ma’am?”

She opens a container to reveal grilled salmon, wild rice, and steamed vegetables. She slides it in front of me and hands me a fork. I wait for her to open her container—salad, sans any meat—before I dig into my food. We chat about our day and discuss anyone around town we could interview to see if they knew the mysterious Hank.

The second I finish my meal, Maple sweeps the containers off the bar and throws them in the trash, depositing the forks in the sink on her way. She whirls around with something behind her back, approaching the bar from the other side.

“Whatcha got there?” I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. Haven’t lost it all summer, actually. It doesn’t escape me how different this cohabitating experience has been with Maple. How easy. How natural.

Her hands whip around to the front and she places a book in front of me. At closer inspection, it’s a leather journal with hundreds of empty lined pages inside. The front is etched with a man and a woman in a small boat, floating in a body of water.

“It’s kind of silly, but you said Debbie does all your reminding at work, and I also know you said anchoring works for you, but I thought it might be helpful to write down the anchoring words or things you need to do each day outside of work. That way you don’t forget as much. You absolutely do not need to use it, but I saw it at Bayside Books when I was walking by to get dinner, and I just had to get it for you. It reminds me of our day on the lake.”

I butt into her rambling words, touched beyond measure. “The day I tried to drown you and Mookie?”

Maple’s cheeks are flushed. She looks so uncomfortable it makes me wonder why she doesn’t like giving gifts. It’s perfect. And thoughtful. And sweet. I stand abruptly, reach across the bar, and hook my hand behind her neck to haul her to me. My lips crash onto hers and she gasps, giving me the opportunity to slide my tongue along hers and drink in her taste. Her hands immediately slide into my hair, grasping the strands and holding me tight. Fuck, she’s perfect.

I pull back and rest my forehead on hers, both of us breathing hard. “Thank you, Maple. It’s a thoughtful gift and one I’ll absolutely use.”

Her cheeks are still flushed when I let her go, hopefully from our kiss this time. She nods, her gaze on the journal. “Grandma Gracie taught me to journal during my summers here. It’s something I’ve done ever since.”

An idea spikes in my brain, one that piques my interest so much I have to ask. “Did you write in your journal about our first kiss?”

Her gaze darts to the side. “No!”

“Really, moonbeam? I’m hurt.” I come around the bar and nudge her with my elbow. Her gaze finally comes back to mine. Even her neck is flushed at this point. “Yeah, okay. I totally wrote about it.”

I smile smugly. “Want to read it to me?”

Her eyes go wide and she shoves my chest. I don’t so much as sway from the push. “No!”

I chuckle and take her hand. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find that secret bonfire.” At her widening eyes, I add, “Without a canoe!”

We slide our feet into tennis shoes at the back door and I reluctantly pull on a shirt. We slip out before Mookie notices we’re gone. I love the little beast, but I also want some quiet time with my girl. Well, she’s not really my girl. Justtemporarilymy girl.

We walk hand in hand on the dirt pathway that leads around the entire lake if you walk long enough. I don’t intend to go all the way around the lake, but hearing people barbecuing in their backyards while the water laps against the lake’s edge, the buzz of insects, and the smell of marshmallows makes me happy. We’re both quiet, just enjoying a calm summer night at the lake. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, unlike when I was married to Macy. Silence then meant I was in trouble.

“Holt!” Maple suddenly whisper-shouts, grabbing on to my arm. Then she points into the distance where the pine trees get thick on the west side of the lake. “I think that’s it!”

I know what that spot is. It’s a nice secluded alcove that you can only get to easily from the dirt path. The other side of the alcove is a straight rock face up to the area where I took Maple hiking. We pick up our pace and join the group. Half the dang town is here. I lift my head to Eddy, standing by Jackie, who looks to be reading him the riot act. Not surprising. Those two fight like cats and dogs. He holds up his bottle of beer in greeting. I head that way with Maple in tow.

It doesn’t take long to also notice a jet-black head of hair that makes me want to groan. This is the danger of returning to your hometown to live. You see your exes. Maple follows my line of sight and turns to me, making a silly face with her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. It lifts my mood instantly. We greet Eddy and Jackie, who excuses herself to get another beer.

“Thanks for the assist. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to bend over while she ripped me a new one, or if I should just stand there and take the verbal lashing. I kind of like it when her eyes go feral like that.” Eddy claps me on the shoulder and leans in to give Maple a hug.

I grimace. “You’re sick, Eddy.”

He shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. “I know.” He points to the ice chest at his feet. “I brought a couple six-packs. Feel free to have some.”

I grab one for Maple and one for myself. Eddy’s already in conversation with Will Shaw, the owner of Ripple’s, the ice cream shop that’s been here longer than we’ve been alive. He took over after his father died and his mom wanted to retire. Pulling Maple with me, I head for an open log, sitting down and making sure there’s just enough room for Maple to join me. I open her beer and hand it back to her, then open mine. She lays her head on my shoulder, both of us staring at the dancing flames coming from the giant bonfire.

“I’m surprised these secret bonfires have never caused a fire,” Maple murmurs.

“That’s one of the rules, actually. You have to always inform one fireman of the location. A few of them usually come to hang out, a couple fire extinguishers at the ready.”

Maple lifts her head, and I glance down at her. She licks her lips. I chastise myself internally for bringing her here when I could have had her all to myself at the cabin.

“Why’d you and Macy break up?” she asks out of the blue.

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