Arrival at the Lake

The gravel crunched under the tires of Kelly's beat-up Honda Civic as she pulled into the long driveway. The lake house emerged through the trees like something from a dream. Weathered cedar planks gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Floor to ceiling windows reflected the glittering water beyond. A wraparound deck hugged the entire structure. She killed the engine and sat there for a moment, her pulse thudding against her ribs.

She had imagined this weekend for months. Ever since Brooke had mentioned her summer internship in Chicago. Ever since her best friend had casually asked if Kelly wanted to house-sit at the lake house instead of staying in her cramped dorm.

Say yes, she had thought. Say yes and maybe he'll be there.

And here she was. Marcus Carrol stood on the front porch, wiping his hands on a rag, a smile spreading across his face as he recognized her car.

Kelly grabbed her overnight bag and stepped out into the warm summer air. The scent of pine and lake water wrapped around her. Crickets chirped in the underbrush. Somewhere nearby, a bird called out from the treeline. She smoothed her sundress and pushed her auburn hair behind her ears.

"There's my girl," Marcus said, his voice deep and warm.

He descended the porch steps with an easy confidence that made her stomach flip. He wore faded jeans and a tight gray t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His salt-and-pepper hair was slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it. His trimmed beard framed a smile that reached his blue eyes.

Kelly's breath caught. She had seen him dozens of times. At Brooke's birthday parties, at graduation, during random drop-offs and pick-ups. But never like this. Never alone. Never with the whole weekend stretching ahead of them like a blank page.

He reached her and pulled her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her, strong and sure. She pressed against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. She inhaled his scent. Sandalwood and something clean, like fresh laundry. Her hands settled on his back, feeling the muscles shift beneath the fabric.

The hug lingered.

One second too long. Two seconds. His chin rested on top of her head. She felt his breath stir her hair. Her pulse raced so hard she was sure he could feel it.

"You made good time," he said, his voice rumbling through his chest.

"Traffic wasn't bad." She pulled back, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Thanks for letting me stay. I know Brooke was worried about the house being empty."

"Happy to have the company." He released her slowly, his hands sliding from her shoulders to her arms before finally dropping away. "Let me help you with your bags."

He grabbed her duffel and a tote bag before she could protest. She followed him up the porch steps, watching the way his back muscles moved under his shirt. The screen door creaked open. She stepped inside.

The lake house was beautiful. Open concept living area with vaulted ceilings. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall. The kitchen was all stainless steel and dark granite. French doors led out to a back deck and the pool beyond. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting everything in a golden glow.

"Guest room's down the hall," Marcus said, nodding toward a corridor. "Second door on the right. I figured you'd want the one with the lake view."

"Perfect." Kelly followed him down the hall, her sandals slapping against the hardwood floors.

The guest room was cozy. Queen bed with a white duvet. A window that looked out over the water. A small dresser and closet. He set her bags on the bed.

"Make yourself at home," he said. "I was just about to pour myself a drink. Join me on the deck when you're settled."

"I'd like that."

He smiled again, that slow, warm smile that made her feel like the only person in the world. Then he left, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

Kelly let out a shaky breath. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. They were burning.

Get it together, she told herself. You're here for a weekend. Brooke's dad. Just a friendly weekend.

But she knew that was a lie. She had known it the moment she said yes.

She unzipped her duffel and pulled out her bikini. A tiny two-piece in emerald green that matched her eyes. She had bought it specifically for this trip. She stripped off her sundress and changed, then threw a sheer white cover-up over the top. She checked herself in the mirror. Her auburn hair fell in waves past her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled with anticipation. The freckles across her nose stood out against her slightly tanned skin.

You look good, she told herself. You look ready.

She padded down the hall and through the living room. The French doors were open, letting in the warm breeze. She stepped onto the deck.

Marcus was already by the pool, pouring something from a pitcher into two glasses. He had taken off his t-shirt. He wore only swim trunks, navy blue, hanging low on his hips. His chest was broad and muscular, covered in a light dusting of gray hair that tapered down his stomach. A thin line of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his trunks.

Kelly's mouth went dry.

He turned and saw her. His gaze traveled down her body, slow and deliberate. She felt it like a physical touch. Her skin tingled.

"There she is," he said, his voice a little rougher than before. "Thought you might want a margarita. Fresh squeezed."

"You're spoiling me."

"Someone should." He handed her a glass. His fingers brushed against hers. The contact sent a jolt through her arm.

She took a sip. Tart and sweet with a hint of salt. "This is amazing."

"I make a mean margarita." He gestured to one of the lounge chairs by the pool. "Sit. Tell me about school. How's junior year treating you?"

She settled into the chair, tucking her legs beneath her. He sat in the chair next to hers, close enough that she could smell his cologne. The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck.

"School's good," she said. "Classes are tough but interesting. I'm thinking about switching my major to communications instead of business."

"Yeah? What brought that on?"

"I don't know. Business feels so corporate. Communications feels more creative. More me."

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "You always were the creative type. I remember those drawings you used to show Brooke. The ones of the cityscapes."

Kelly's cheeks flushed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I remember. They were good. Really good." He looked at her, his blue eyes intense. "You should pursue that. Don't let anyone talk you out of what makes you happy."

"Thanks, Marcus." She said his name deliberately, letting it roll off her tongue. She watched his jaw tighten slightly.

They fell into easy conversation. He asked about her classes and what she had planned for the summer. She asked about his architecture firm, the projects he was working on, how he was handling the empty nest now that Brooke was in college. He laughed easily, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

The margaritas went down smooth. The sun dipped lower. The air grew warm and heavy with humidity.

Kelly shifted in her chair, letting her cover-up slide off one shoulder. She caught him looking at the exposed skin. He didn't look away quickly. He let his gaze linger.

"So," she said, her voice dropping slightly, "are you seeing anyone?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a personal question."

"I'm a personal person."

He laughed, a low rumble. "No. No one special. Just work and the occasional dinner with friends."

"Really? A handsome guy like you? I find that hard to believe."

"Handsome, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "And what do you know about handsome guys?"

"I know a thing or two." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "I know what I like."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhm."

The air between them thickened. His gaze dropped to her lips. She felt her pulse quicken.

His phone buzzed on the table between them. He glanced at it. "It's Brooke."

Kelly's stomach clenched. Guilt flooded through her, cold and sharp.

He picked up the phone and read the message. "She says hi. Wants to know if you made it okay."

"Tell her I'm fine." Kelly's voice came out steadier than she felt. "Tell her the house is beautiful."

He typed a quick response. Then another buzz. He laughed. "She says don't let her dad bore you with too many architecture stories."

"I don't think that's possible." Kelly met his gaze. "I find architecture fascinating."

His smile faltered for just a second. Something flickered in his expression. Desire tempered by caution, a silent warning he couldn't quite hide.

He cleared his throat. "More margarita?"

"I'm good for now." She set her glass down and stretched, arching her back slightly. The motion made her bikini top shift. She saw his gaze drop, then snap back up.

"It's getting late," he said, though the sun was still an hour from setting. "I should probably start thinking about dinner."

"I could help. If you want."

"I always appreciate a pretty sous chef."

His words hit her like a shot of whiskey. Warm and potent. She smiled slowly.

"Then let's cook."

They stood at the same time. He was close. So close she could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her hand brushed against his arm as she turned toward the house.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be." His voice was low, rough. "Don't apologize for touching me."

Her breath caught. She looked up at him. His face was serious now, the playfulness gone. Replaced by something hungry.

"Kelly." He said her name like a warning. Like a prayer.

"Yes?"

"We should be careful."

"Why?"

"Because." He stepped closer. His hand came up, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Featherlight. "Because I don't think I'm going to be very good at keeping my distance."

Her heart soared. She leaned into his touch, just slightly. "Who said I wanted you to?"

His jaw tightened. He pulled his hand away, but his gaze never left hers. "Come on. Let's get dinner started."

He turned and walked into the house. Kelly followed, her skin tingling where he had touched her. She watched the way his back muscles moved as he walked. The way his hips moved with that easy confidence.

She was in trouble. Deep, delicious trouble.

And she didn't want to be saved.