Grace: Great.
Tegan: That’s not all.
Grace: Even better. Hit me with it all.
Tegan: He’s a widower.
Bia. The wounded, aching sound.
The pit of Grace’s stomach fell away, hollowing out the inside of her body.Oh, shitwas right.
Tegan: Mom?
Grace: I’ll fix this.
Tegan: Maybe don’t do anything.
On the other side of the room, Heather Tully climbed onto a chair and hollered a cheery greeting as she held a piece of paper in the air. “Good morning, campers! Did everyone get their schedule for the day? Each morning this will be delivered to your cabin—” Grace had clearly missed that in her rush to get to breakfast. “But it’s also posted in the main lodge, outside the dining hall, and today we have extra copies here as well. Raise your hand if you need one.”
Grace didn’t bother. She’d scurry back to her cabin at the first opportunity and look at it there in the safety of her solitude.
Heather continued. “Also, take a look to your left and right, folks. This is the highest enrolment of singles in any of our camp sessions.” She said it with a nudge-nudge, wink-wink tease in her voice, and everyone shifted in their seats, an excited murmur rising from the crowd.
Jeepers, you’d think none of these people had been laid in the last year.
Grace tried to hide behind her coffee mug.
“You’re going to be making new friends all week, and today’s activities are all designed to help with that.”
No, no, oh God, no. The noise level bumped up another notch as prime candidates were eyed up lasciviously, and Grace realized her mug wasn’t going to protect her.
Get a grip, Grace Bennett. You can—
“You’ll need a buddy for kayak lessons, macramé in the Arts and Crafts building, and then at lunch, we’re going to do picnics for two out of the boat house!”
Nope. She could not do a picnic for two. Forced romance was a fate worse than death. Maybe kayaking. Kayaking sounded safe… But who would she be willing to get in a boat with?
Apparently, she wasn’t alone in turning her head to check out the Navy SEAL commander two tables over. Grace watched in a mix of horror, shock, and black amusement as all the women in the room honed-in on Angry, Sad Neighbor.Frank. Wyatt’s boss, so-to-speak, and awidower.
Maybe not all the women in the room. Eighty-six percent of them. There were a few in the back who couldn’t see him, couldn’t see how the way he was built like a concrete wall.
She knew firsthand how powerful his body felt. He would be an excellent partner for kayak lessons. And he could carry twenty picnic baskets at once.
This was a disaster.
She tapped her phone. Tegan had told her not to do anything, but…
Grace: Little late for that, baby. But don’t worry. I’ll make it up to him.
Tegan: I can fly out tomorrow if you need me.
Grace: I’m fine. Go back to sleep and dream of wedding things.
She wasn’t fine, truthfully. She was still mortified about last night. But her neighbor had looked devastated last night, and right now he looked like he might blow a gasket any second. In the hierarchy of emotional need, he won. Or lost, as it were. Either way, she didn’t have any business feeling sorry for herself. She took a deep breath and stood up, picked up her coffee, and pointed herself in his direction.
* * *
Frank noticedin his peripheral vision as his flaky blonde neighbor approached. At least she didn’t seem drunk this morning. Frazzled, but not intoxicated.
