Page 17 of Anchored

Holt swings Grandma out of the Jeep like she weighs nothing. Grandma hoots her excitement being in his arms and looks so happy I don’t think I’ll ever have the heart to tell her that Holt’s not my fiancé. Maybe I can just slink back to Charlotte at the end of the summer and Grandma will be confused enough to forget this whole charade entirely.

Holt waits for me on the couch with a romance novel in his lap as I get Grandma changed into pajamas, make her a mug of chamomile tea, and get her situated in bed. She’s already asleep by the time I get her clothes put away and her bedroom door shut behind me.

“She’s asleep,” I whisper to Holt.

His head lifts, eyes wide. He points to the book, where his finger keeps his place in the historical romance. “I had no idea ankles were so sexy.”

I laugh softly and grab my purse. “The people in that book would be scandalized to see my whole leg.”

Holt’s eyes dip down to take in my bare legs. I swear I can feel his gaze on my skin. He swallows hard and puts the book down on the coffee table to head for the front door. “Let’s see if we can find this weekend’s secret bonfire, huh?”

I brighten at the prospect. I haven’t attended a summer bonfire in Anchor Lake in years. “Any ideas where it could be?” I didn’t even know who was behind the location choice, but they did a great job keeping everyone guessing from week to week.

Holt helped me into the Jeep, rounded the hood, and climbed behind the wheel to head home. I liked that he was a gentleman. Helping me into the car, his hand on my lower back, paying for our lunch…I noticed all of it. Dexter hadn’t been too keen to do those things, saying women were equal to men and didn’t need his help. I mean, he’s right, but Iwantedhis help. The distinction is key.

“No idea, but I was thinking we could take Gracie’s canoe out and find it that way. I could use some rowing to burn off the donuts and hot dogs.” Holt pats his washboard abs like he’s suddenly grown a potbelly from one day of junk food.

We don’t spend much time at the cabin, just enough to throw on sweatshirts and grab Mookie. She’s sporting a harness and leash in case we find the bonfire, but Holt makes a makeshift bed out of blankets for her in the bottom of the old canoe out back. The moon is high in the sky and a few fireflies light the way as we trudge through the backyard and over to the edge of the water. Smoke climbs into the dark from several fires along the rim of the lake.

The canoe doesn’t look as good as I remember it from my youth. It’s smaller, more rickety, and it even looks like some wood rot might have caused a slight hole in the bottom. Although that could just be a trick of the light. Holt assures me he’s taken it out recently and it was seaworthy. I climb in and have a seat on one of two slats across the width of the canoe. Mookie looks up at me from her bed at the bottom like she’s asking me to save her.

Holt hands me two paddles, throws his shoes into the canoe, and shoves it the rest of the way into the water. The thing floats perfectly, even when Holt splashes over and hops in with ease. The canoe bobs dangerously under his weight, but settles as I hold on to the sides in a death grip.

“You know how to swim, right?” Holt asks, taking an oar from me.

I bobble the remaining one, almost dumping it into the water before we’ve gotten even two yards from the shoreline. “Yep. I’m just not a strong swimmer. I like land-based physical activities.”

Holt grins and starts paddling us further out onto the lake. Water seeps into my tennis shoes, but I figure that’s par for the course in an old canoe. “Do you like skiing? Hiking? Rock climbing?”

“Whoa there, Mr. REI.” I finally get the oar situated in my hands and dip the ends into the water to help out. “I’m more of a yoga and Pilates girl.”

Bam!

My oar slams into his and slips right out of my hand. The splash it makes as it falls into the lake gets my legs all wet. I reach over the edge of the canoe and snatch it out of the water before it sinks, but the sudden movement tips the canoe. Holt yips and counterbalances. Mookie whimpers from the bottom. Little ripples of water fan out from our canoe. Holt and I stare at each other as the thing slowly steadies without catastrophe. My hands are shaking as I turn back around and try rowing again.

“Sorry about that.”

Holt shakes his head, but he’s still smiling when I peek a glance at him. We make it almost into the middle of the lake when Holt points out a particularly large plume of smoke on the northwest side of the lake.

“There! I bet that’s the bonfire. Let’s head that way.”

Thank God for his muscles, because my shoulders start burning and we aren’t even close to the bonfire. I rest in between paddles. I stretch my fingers down to my toes to get some blood back in my arms, but find that my feet are almost completely submerged in water.

“Uh, Holt? Is the boat filling with water?”

The splashes from his oar fall silent. He curses under his breath a moment later. “Yeah, I think so. Must be the added weight of two of us.”

Panic starts to seep in along with the lake water. “Uh, should we turn around? I mean, Mookie might be swimming soon.”

She jumps to her feet and off the pile of blankets at the mention of her name. Her little legs are completely submerged. She barks and I can tell she’s as terrified as me.

“Shit. Yeah, I think we better head back.” He starts rowing in earnest now.

Considering I don’t want the canoe to sink with both of us and Mookie in it, I dip my oar in and try to help out. Sadly, I don’t help. I mostly just clank my oar into his. One particular whack makes the end of my oar fall into the water uncontrolled, sending up a wave of water right in Holt’s face. He sputters and I dare to turn around. He’s soaked.

He’s not smiling now.

I mutter an apology, but then he whips his shirt over his head and words die on my lips. Why is he always half naked? And why do I like it so much? The light from the moon creates shadows across his muscles. The man is stacked with round, sinewy muscle that flexes and moves each time he digs his oar into the water. It’s basically crew porn, and I have a literal front-row seat.

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