Page 8 of Love Notes

I let go, and he scrabbled backward toward the shore.“Are you okay?”

“What thehell?”he shrieked again.He made it to the shore and turned over onto his hands and knees.He tried to push himself up onto his feet, but it was slippery at the edge of the lake, and his legs went out from under him, and he landed with a loud splat.“I don’t have any money!”

“What?”

Gasping for breath, he sat and faced me.“I don’t have any money, but you can take my phone!It’s on the bank!”

“What?” My jaw dropped.I took a step toward him, and he flinched back, so I stopped and showed him my palms.“I’m not robbing you.I thought you weredrowning!”

“What?”He squinted at me and then lifted a dripping hand and wiped the tendrils of wet hair off his forehead.“I wasn’t drowning!”

“What the hell were you doing then?”

“I was being murdered!”

It was my turn to stare.

I stood in the lake and dripped, and he sat in the lake and dripped, and a couple of ducks coasted past us.

The guy shuffled backward on his ass, his jeans crunching against the grit of the lakeshore.“I was choreographing a murder.”He held up a hand.“I write books!I’m not actually a murderer!”

That honestly didn’t sound much less unhinged.“You did that on purpose?”

“Yes.”He was bright red in the face, either from exertion or embarrassment.Now that my adrenaline had worn off, I noticed he was kind of cute as well.His wet shirt clung to a frame that was slim with a hint of softness.He had hair that might have been wheat-blond if it wasn’t plastered to his head, a button nose, and wide blue-gray eyes that looked as though they might change with the weather.“It’s research.”

“Research?I thought you were having a seizure!”I waded slowly toward the shore, giving the guy plenty of time to scramble to his feet.

“Where the hell did you even come from?”he asked.“I didn’t think anyone was around.”

I pointed at the trees.“Through there.”

“Oh!You must be Rebecca’s brother.She said you lived right next door.”

“And you must be the paying guest,” I said, squelching onto the shore.I stuck my hand out.“Ryan Devlin.”

“Adam,” he said, and we shook.“Adam Nelson.Thanks for the attempted rescue, and sorry I thought you were robbing me.”

I couldn’t help my snort of laughter.Even if I wanted to be angry, which I didn’t, it would have been impossible in the face of such a ridiculous situation and its equally ridiculous apology.“I’d say I’d guess this kind of thing sometimes happens, but honestly, it never has before.”

Adam laughed too, ruefully, and then jabbed his thumb in the direction of the cabin.“I guess I’d better…”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking wistfully of the hot shower he was about to enjoy.“Me too.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, stooping down to pick up the shoes he’d left on the bank.Then, shaking his head when he presumably realized what a dumbass thing that was to say given the way we’d met, he headed off toward the cabin.

Choreographing a murder.I’d never heard anything as dumb—unless you counted the guy who leapt into the lake to stop it.My friends would think it was hilarious, which was why they could never find out.Although who was I kidding?I’d tell them myself it was so funny.

I followed the old cement track back to the workshop.In the days when it had been a boatbuilder’s shed, the cement track had been a way to tow boats in and out of the lake.It was mostly overgrown these days, hardly visible unless you already knew it was there.I’d been meaning to hire a jackhammer and break it up at some point, to give the loosestrife and the blue vervain the chance to reclaim the space, but the job wasn’t urgent enough that I’d got around to it yet.

I’d left the roller door to the workshop open, and the cat was waiting for me when I squelched inside.I hoped she hadn’t helped herself to the open packet of dill pickle chips on the counter.Those were mine.

“Yeah,” I said when she blinked at me.“Well, you should see the other guy.”

I went to the sink and crouched to unlace my boots.The laces were wet and difficult to untie, and I had no idea how long it would take for the boots themselves to dry out.They were leather boots with steel caps; I had a spare pair, but I didn’t like them quite as much.I set my boots in front of the open roller door, hoping the breeze would work some magic on them, and then returned to the sink and began to strip my clothes off.I could rinse them off in the sink and leave them hanging, but tomorrow I’d have to go to Rebecca’s apartment and use her washing machine.

I dropped my shirt into the sink with a wet squelch, and then awkwardly leaned down to pull my socks off.They were soaked and trying their hardest to stick to my skin.I dropped them into the sink.Then I peeled my jeans and underwear down.

“Hey,” I said to the cat when I caught a flash of movement in my periphery, “You’re—”

---