Page 14 of Summer Showdown
"Beginner's luck?" Tyler teased.
Lark just smiled sweetly. "We'll see."
As the game continued, I watched in amazement as Lark dominated the competition. Her throws were precise, her strategy flawless. When we won the final round, she let out a triumphant whoop and high-fived me with childlike enthusiasm.
"Where did you learn to play like that?" I asked as we accepted our prize—a gift certificate to the local ice cream shop.
"Summer camp, believe it or not," she said, cheeks flushed with victory. "I was very serious about color war competitions."
"I can picture that," I laughed.
As the evening wore on, I found myself watching Lark when she wasn't looking. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when listening intently to someone. How she periodically checked her phone, a slight furrow appearing between her brows each time. The genuine interest she showed when locals told her about Wintervale's history.
For someone playing a part, she was doing a remarkably convincing job. Or maybe, just maybe, she was letting her guard down and enjoying herself despite her initial reservations.
The crowd began to thin as families with young children headed home. The mayor approached us again, this time with a specific request.
"The regatta on Saturday is one of our biggest events," he explained. "It would be wonderful if you two would participate. Nothing builds publicity like a little friendly competition."
"I've never been in a kayak," Lark admitted.
"Wade here is an excellent teacher," the mayor assured her. "And the course isn't difficult—just around the lake and back."
I glanced at Lark, trying to gauge her reaction. "It could be fun," I offered. "I could show you the basics tomorrow, if you're interested."
She considered for a moment, then nodded. "Why not? It's all part of the experience, right?"
"Excellent!" The mayor beamed. "I'll add you to the roster."
As the mayor walked away, I suggested to Lark, "Want to take a walk? The lake is beautiful at sunset."
She checked her phone once more, then slipped it into her purse. "Sure."
We made our way from the town square to the lakeshore, the path lit by the last golden rays of the setting sun. The water was calm, reflecting the pink and orange sky like a mirror. A few boats were still out, distant specks on the glassy surface.
"It's peaceful here," Lark said softly as we walked along the shore. "Different from Chicago."
"That's what most people say when they visit," I replied. "What's it like there? Your life in the city, I mean."
She was quiet for a moment. "Fast-paced. Competitive. My apartment has a view of the lake—Lake Michigan—but I rarely have time to enjoy it. Most days, I'm at the office before sunrise and home after dark."
"Sounds lonely," I said without thinking.
She glanced at me, surprise in her eyes. "I never thought of it that way. I'm always surrounded by people—clients, colleagues."
"That's not the same as connection," I pointed out gently.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice called out, "Wade! Is that you?"
Logan jogged up the path toward us, his lanky teenage frame awkward but endearing. My cousin's face lit up when he saw me, the same admiration I'd seen since he was a toddler shining in his eyes.
"Hey, Logan," I greeted him. "What are you doing out here?"
"Mom said I could fish until sunset," he explained, holding up a small tackle box. "No luck today, though." His curious gaze shifted to Lark. "Is this your girlfriend everyone's talking about?"
I felt Lark stiffen slightly beside me. "This is Lark," I said. "Lark, my cousin Logan—my aunt Diana's son."
"Nice to meet you," Lark said with a smile.
