The stone terrace cascades toward the bridge and dock, the majestic scenery glowing in the early morning sun. In the distance, a few boats drift on the calm lake. Closer in, a heron soars over the water.
Something moves beneath the canopy of the dock. Shifting to the window closest to the bridge, I spot Cole and Trace walking around the ski boat. They’re too far away to make out expressions, but it’s easy to differentiate between Cole’s broad build and Trace’s height.
Cole tosses a bundle of rope to Trace, and they climb onto the boat. What are they up to?
Both are wearing jeans, heavy jackets, and sunglasses. I guess I should change clothes and make my way down there?
First, I need to call my parents.
Coffee in hand, I lower onto the couch in the living room and hit the speed dial for Florida.
Mom picks up on the second ring. “Good morning, darling.”
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s the drive going? Did you stay the night in Tennessee?”
“I’m still in Missouri.” I sip the coffee, basking in the serene view beyond the windows. “I’m at Table Rock Lake. Cole owns a house here.”
“You went back to him?” Hope whispers through her voice.
She hasn’t met Trace, but she always liked Cole. Really, I think she’d like any man I date. She just wants me married and settled.
“Trace is here, too.” How am I going to explain this? “They kind of bonded after I left.”
“That sounds…complicated.” Her tone shifts from thoughtful to worried. “What are you doing, Danni?”
“I don’t know. I guess that’s why I’m here. I need to figure it out.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming to Florida?”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
“Of course. Our home is always open to you.” She sighs. “Just be careful, sweetheart. I know you’re twenty-eight—”
“Almost twenty-nine.”
“—and you think you know everything there is to know about the world. But you have a lot of growing up to do. Relationships are hard work. Love is hard work. Whether you choose Cole or Trace, make sure you pick the one you’re willing to work the hardest for. Okay?”
“You work hard for Dad?” I grin.
“Oh, that man…” She groans. “Don’t get me started.”
I spend the next ten minutes answering her questions about the lake house and the surrounding property, going into detail about the landscaping. She loves that shit. Then I end the call and finish off the coffee while waiting for the phone to ring.
My mom and sister are tight. So tight they call each other about everything. Right now, I know my mom is updating Bree on the status of my life.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzes, flashing Bree on the caller ID. When I answer, I give her the same spiel I gave Mom.
Her questions are more intrusive. Why did you change your mind? How did you get there? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you going to choose between them?
I hate lying to her, so I keep my responses as truthful as possible. I missed them. Cole drove me here. Just arrived last night. I’m here to finally make a decision.
“You better keep me updated,” she says.
“You have my number, Nosy Nancy. I love you.”
“Love you, too”
We hang up, and I head back to the bedroom, change into the warmest clothes I find—jeans, fleece sweatshirt, UGG boots, and a thick Down coat with a faux-fur-lined hood. Slipping my phone into the coat pocket, I walk to the keypad for the bedroom’s exterior door and enter 1974—the Midget’s birth year. It opens.
Bracing for the cold, I step outside and shut the door behind me. Surprisingly, the air is warmer than I expected. Not as warm as I would like, but there’s no wind. No need for gloves or a scarf.
I follow the cobblestone path to the bridge, my boots scuffing along the wood planks. As I reach the dock, my pulse quickens. This feeling never gets old—the buzz in my belly, the anticipation of a lingering glance, and the consuming fixation on what-ifs and could-be’s.
“Morning, baby.” Cole stands in the ski boat a few feet away, his grin bright against the dark shadow of scruff on his face.
“Morning.” I pause at the edge of the slip.
Behind him, Trace rummages through a storage compartment, grumbling about Cole’s lack of organization.
“How’d you sleep?” Cole peers at me over the top of his aviator glasses.
“I don’t remember.” I return his smile. “That’s a good thing. You?”
“Fantastic.” His expression softens, and he leans over the railing and holds out a hand. “Come on.”
I grip his fingers and let him haul me into the boat. “So this is yours?”
“Yep. Wanna put some hours on it?”
“Sure. Do I get to drive?”
“Not a chance.” Trace stands, removes his sunglasses, and gives me a thorough once-over, lingering on my mouth. “You look gorgeous this morning.”
“Thank you.” I bite my lip, the flutter in my stomach showing no signs of fading. “Why can’t I drive?”
“You don’t know how.” Cole moves behind the steering wheel. “But you have six months to learn.”
Six months. I’m not sure how I feel about that time line. Maybe it’s exactly what I need. Before I left, I wasted so much energy on beating myself up because I couldn’t make a decision. It would be nice to just take one day at a time without worrying about making them wait.
Ten minutes later, Cole drives us out of the cove and into the open lake. The chilly air nips at my cheeks, but the sun is warm and energizing. Before the boat speeds up, I move to the front and stretch out on the curved bench seat. Trace sits beside me, his sunglasses back in place.
I open my mouth to ask if there are extra shades, but he’s already removing a pair from his pocket. They look identical to the cat eye sunglasses I keep in my car.
“Thanks.” I slide them on. “Did you steal these from me?”
“No.” His teeth scrape his bottom lip. “I bought them because they reminded me of the first day we spent together.”
The day he ran errands with me. He was so standoffish and rude when we met, but there was something compelling about him, something magnetic and so damn irresistible I tolerated his bullshit. In fact, I craved more of it. More of him.
“You kissed me that day,” I whisper wistfully and peek behind me.
Cole doesn’t seem to hear us over the wind and the motor. Aviator glasses conceal his eyes, his head turned slightly away as he steers us through the open water. Since there aren’t many boats out, the lake is gentle and waveless.
Trace slides his fingers around mine, pulling my attention back to him. I hold his hand on my lap and trace his knuckles. The simple connection makes my chest feel lighter. The soft frown on his mouth heats my blood. And the caress of his gaze on my face makes me feel whole, more alive.
“Tell me a story.” The wind swallows my voice.
He waves at Cole and shouts, “Find a spot to park.”
Cole veers the boat into a quiet inlet enshrouded by trees and turns off the engine. The speakers in the boat crackle, and a second later, a punk rock song thumps on low volume.