We watched the cabin for a few more minutes, but nothing happened. Defeat settled in my chest. We were close to finding out something, I could feel it. But there wasn't much more we could learn without breaking in. Even I wasn’t ready to do that.
“We should go,” Garner said. “Don’t want to be late for the next activity and have Serena send someone looking for us.”
I nodded. As we walked back to the main resort, the silence between us grew heavier with each step. Neither of us mentioned the kiss, though it was all I could think about. My lips still tingled, and I kept reliving the way his body had felt pressed against mine.
"So," I finally said as the main building came into view. "Mountain Peak Investments."
"Yeah. I'll see if Priest knows anything about it when we get back."
I nodded. "And I can check property records through the town hall database."
More silence.
"About what happened back there—" I started.
"We don't have to talk about it," Garner cut in. "It was just for cover."
"Right." I ignored the sting of disappointment. "For cover."
That night, we participated in more couples' activities, ate dinner as a group, and did an after-dinner meditation that left me feeling way too relaxed. If I leaned into Garner’s touch a little more than necessary, or if his hand lingered at the small of my back longer than it should have, neither of us acknowledged it.
Back in our room, I wandered around while Garner showered. I was restless, all worked up over that kiss from earlier, wanting to talk about it but afraid to bring it up and destroy our friendship. I wandered around the room, peeking out the window to look at the moon, turning the TV on then off again. Finally, my fingers trailed over the desk where Garner had left his sketchbook.
I shouldn't look. It was private.
But something compelled me to open it, to take a quick peek. I flipped through pages of stunning tattoo designs until I came to a different kind of drawing—one of a woman with her hair twisted up in a messy bun, her head bent in concentration. The drawing was so intimate, so familiar, that it took me a moment to recognize myself.
The shower shut off, and I quickly closed the book, my heart pounding. By the time Garner came out of the bathroom, I’d jumped under the covers and was pretending to read a magazine left in our room.
"Anything interesting?" he asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.
I looked up at him and lied. "Nope.”
“Bathroom’s all yours, baby girl.” He hung the towel on a hook and plopped down on the bed.
“Thanks.” As I got ready for bed, I studied my reflection in the mirror. My lips were still slightly swollen from our kiss, my cheeks pink from spending the whole day thinking about it. He’d kissed me for cover, but it had felt so real.
That night, we lay side by side again, not touching but I was acutely aware of his big body warming the sheets just a few inches away.
That drawing he’d made of me meant he'd been seeing me all this time. Really seeing me. And it made me wonder if I'd been the blind one all along.
CHAPTER 5
GARNER
I'd spent most of my adult life with my hands on other people's bodies. The tattoo gun was an extension of myself, a tool that let me transform skin into art while maintaining a safe, professional distance. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared me for the experience of running my hands over Olivia's bare skin in a room full of strangers.
"Remember to use firm, even pressure," Serena called out. "Your partner should feel supported, not tickled."
I adjusted my grip on Olivia's shoulders, carefully rubbing in the warm massage oil in smooth, even strokes. The couples' massage class was being held in a sunlit room overlooking the lake. Soft instrumental music played in the background and scented candles burned along the edges of the room. Everything was designed to feel romantic and intimate. Unfortunately, it did.
"Is this okay?" I whispered, my voice rougher than I intended.
Olivia's head dipped forward slightly, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. "Perfect," she whispered, sending the word traveling directly from my fingertips to my chest.
Every tattoo artist learns to read the body's response, like the subtle flinch that means you're hitting a nerve, and the relaxation that comes when the endorphins kick in. I'd memorized those signals years ago. But reading Olivia's body was different. When my thumbs traced the ridge of her shoulder blades, she released a small, involuntary sigh that almost made my knees buckle.
"Now partners, move down to the middle back," Serena directed. "Notice the trapezius muscle. It carries so much of our daily tension."
