“I love you, Tara,” he says.
I press my lips to his.
“Forever,” I whisper.
We stay on the dock until the candles gutter out and the sky turns violet again, the lake and our future endless and waiting.
By the timeI wake the next morning, the lake’s already calling me.
I slip out from under the down comforter, careful not to disturb Hunter, and pad barefoot down the hall, out the slider, and across the dew-wet planks. My muscles ache, but in a good way. My hair smells of smoke and sex and lake air. The ring on my finger feels just right, like I was always meant to wear it.
The water’s warmer than the air, so when I dive in, it’s almost gentle. I cut straight through the surface, my body shock-smooth, eyes wide open. The world underwater is silent and blue. I push down, deeper, until the pressure drums in my ears, then I flip and kick for the sky.
I come up gasping, laughing, alive.
Hunter’s on the dock, hands on his hips, looking like he wants to drag me back to bed. Instead, he strips off his sweats and cannonballs after me, sending up a wave that rocks the loons off the far reeds.
We float there, naked, treading water. He’s so close I can see the goosebumps on his skin, the white of his teeth.
“Early start,” he says, voice echoing across the lake.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I let the water slick my hair back. “You wore me out.”
He grins, circling me in lazy strokes. “I’ll never get tired of this view.”
I roll my eyes, but I love it.
We swim out to the float—an old wooden platform anchored a hundred feet from shore. I haul myself up, breasts pressed to the sun-warmed boards, and turn to face him as he climbs up after me.
He’s beautiful, even dripping and shivering. More so, maybe.
He sprawls next to me, resting his chin on his arms. “You’re different in the water,” he says. “Calmer.”
I nod. “I think I belong here.”
He looks at the lake, the sky, then at me. “I think you belong with me.”
I smile at him. “Oh my gosh, you’ve turned into a romantic.
Hunter winks.
“With you? Always, sweetheart.”
We’re quiet for a bit, the only sounds our breathing and the slap of water against the float.
Then I remember. “Oh. I wanted to tell you about Kat.”
“Pink haired Kat?” he says. “The one with you met talking in the library?”
“That’s the one.” I lean back, showing off my big breasts, which always gets Hunter distracted. “She’s taking a semester off though. Got a job as a personal assistant for some reclusive billionaire author, and is supposed to live at his lake house and help him with a book.”
Hunter shrugs. “Not a bad gig.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Except she says he’s crazy. Not in a murderer sort of way though. In a ‘role-play for my research’ way.”
Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head, bemused.
