I cock my head to one side, listening. It sounds like Sam Fender.
She jogs back down the steps and turns right to walk roundthe side of the house. I check my messages as I trail after her, and sure enough, there’s one from Anders.
We’re at the cabin.
I smile and pocket my phone. We’re getting to see the lake house!
The driveway comes to a stop at a scruffy lawn. Over on the right is the storm shelter, half hidden by a strategically placed rose bed. The music grows louder as we cross the grass and reach the wood, our feet crackling through twigs as dappled sunlight spills down through the leafy tree cover overhead. The lake gleams between the tall, slim tree trunks, and as we approach, the smoking smell of a barbecue drifts toward us on a light breeze.
Jonas and Anders are sitting on chairs on a deck overhanging the water, looking very laid-back with bottles of beer in their hands, their long legs stretched out in front of them. Anders looks over his shoulder and spies us, and, as his eyes snag mine, my treacherous heart flips.
“Hi!” Bailey calls.
“Hey!” Jonas calls back, and he and Anders get to their feet.
Jonas lopes over to greet us midway. He seems happy, content, and I don’t know if it’s the beer or the fact that he has his brother at home with him again, or whether he’s simply putting it on for “strangers,” as Anders once said he did, but it’s so good to see him in an upbeat mood.
He gives Bailey a hug, followed by one for me, then slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward Anders.
“Hey,” I say to Anders as Jonas releases me. “You managed to get some time off, then?”
“I did,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest.
He doesn’t make any move to hug us and it strikes me that he’s not at all touchy-feely like his brother. I belatedly wonder if he’s a bit like Sheryl, protective of his personal space.
Or maybe he’s just reminding me that he’s not interested.
“Boss agreed to be flexible for the rest of the season,” Jonas interjects, clapping his brother on the back.
“That’s amazing!” I exclaim, trying to shrug off that disturbing last thought.
“He hasn’t taken a vacation in over three years,” Jonas says dryly. “I reckon it’s the least his team can do.”
“You haven’t had a holiday in three years?” I ask Anders with alarm, determined not to be put off by the walls he seems to have put up since I last saw him. “Why not?”
He hesitates and then frowns at his brother.
Jonas answers for him: “He’s a workaholic.”
Anders shrugs at me, the amber fleck in his eye glinting under the sunlight.
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting a break now. We brought beer and wine.” I offer up the cooler bag, wishing I didn’t find this unattainable man so goddamn attractive.
Jonas takes it from me. “What would you like?”
“Wine, please.”
He looks at Bailey.
“Same.”
He heads off to the cabin.
“Take a seat.” Anders nods toward a couple of deck chairs. “I’m just going to check on the ribs.”
“Ooh, is that what we’re having?” Bailey calls after him.
“Yep. Should be ready soon. Jonas has been smoking them all afternoon.”
