Page 71 of Enchanted to Meet You

Rhys moved closer, his bare chest practically brushing my back. Then, his broad, warm hands touched the exposed skin of my shoulders.

I gasped softly, a sharp, involuntary shiver running straight down my spine. His hands were large, firm, and surprisingly gentle as he spread the cool cream across my collarbones, his thumbs smoothing slow, circular motions over the tops of my shoulders. Every slide of his palm sent a wave of electric goosebumps racing across my arms, making my breath hitch in my chest.

“Cold?” he murmured near the base of my neck, his fingers tracing down the line of my spine to the tie of my bikini top.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut as his hands moved down to my upper back, his knuckles lightly grazing my ribs. “Just ticklish.”

The moment broke when Leah came running down the steps to the dock, demanding that somebody take her tubing. Carolyn followed behind her, looking exhausted, and told us that if we all went together and gave her quiet time on the dock, she would give us two hundred dollars to spend next time we went into town.

We were gone in minutes.

For the next two hours, the bay was ours. Even being out there with Kelcey wasn’t enough to ruin it. The boat tore through the sparkling water, creating massive white wakes. Justin went on the tube first, clinging for dear life as Rhys whipped the boat into sharp, agonizing donuts until Justin was launched airborne, crashing into the lake with a massive splash that had all of us on the boat screaming with laughter.

Then it was Leah’s turn, her high-pitched shrieks echoing over the water as Rhys took over the wheel, deliberately driving over the choppy boat wakes to give her the ride of her life.

When it was my turn to get in the water, I balked at the edge of the swim platform, looking down at the deep water.

“It’s cold!” I yelled over the idle of the engine after I tentatively stuck a toe in.

“It’s not cold once you’re in!” Rhys called out from the back seat, holding a lifejacket out to me.

Before I could protest, Rhys stepped onto the platform behind me, wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, and yelled, “Three, two, one⁠—”

“Rhys, no⁠—!”

We hit the lake together in an explosive spray of water. Like I’d said, the water was freezing, shocking my lungs as we sank under before popping back up to the surface. I came up sputtering, wiping wet hair out of my eyes, only to find Rhys bobbing right beside me, his wet hair slicked back, laughing wildly.

“You are evil!” I gasped, splashing a wave of freezing lake water straight into his face.

Rhys wiped his eyes, his laugh booming across the water as he swam closer, pulling me into a loose embrace to keep us afloat. Our legs tangled together beneath the dark surface, his wet, cool skin pressing against mine as the lifejackets kept us buoyant.

“Revenge for the pool!” he laughed, his face inches from mine. “And admit it, you loved it!”

I looked at him—at the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, the wet grin on his lips, the absolute freedom in his voice—and I couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

“I hate you,” I laughed, wrapping my wet arms around his neck as the boat circled back toward us.

“No you don’t,” he whispered softly, his hand resting on the back of my wet head, his fingers tangling in my hair.

My eyes bored into his for a beat, my breath coming out in short gasps that had nothing to do with the shock of the cold water. “You’re right,” I whispered. “I don’t.”

Something shifted on his face, something softening in his eyes. Rhys tightened his arms around me even further. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Leah’s sharp demands for another turn had him blowing out a breath instead.

Another hour later, we finally climbed back onto the main dock, utterly exhausted, waterlogged, and happier than I had been in months. Rhys and I dragged two lounge chairs together near the edge of the wooden ledge, wrapped ourselves in dry towels, and lay side-by-side in the warm late-afternoon sun. He reached across the small gap between our chairs, his long fingers finding mine under the edge of my towel. I didn’t pull away. I closed my eyes, listening to the gentle lap-lap of the lake water, feeling the hot sun on my face and the firm, steady weight of Rhys’s hand holding mine.

There was no school, no rivalries, no fake dating rules, no past heartbreaks. There was only the sun, the forest, the water, and him.

twenty-one

The sun had barely cleared the horizon when I stepped out onto the wrap-around porch of the cottage on Monday morning. We’d spent Sunday much the same as Saturday, racing around in the boat, jumping in the water, and then warming back up in the sun, Rhys and I always within reaching distance of one another. I’d briefly considered the possibility that I might get sick of him after spending all of our time together for days like this, but if anything, the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted him around.

It was the only explanation for why, when he didn’t drag me out of bed this morning like he’d done the last two days, I went outside looking for him in the cold morning.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater—okay, one of Rhys’s sweaters that I’d stolen from his room when I was looking for him—over my hands and took a deep breath of the crisp cool air. The air was heavy with the morning dew and I was already regretting the shorts I’d pulled on instead of pants, but there was still nothing more refreshing than the fresh air of the forest that felt so different from the air we had in North Glen.

I walked down the steps slowly and wandered toward the gym, which was the only spot I could imagine Rhys would be at this time of day if not in the cottage. Sticks and pine needles crunched under my feet as I wandered over and found him with his back to me, dressed in only a low-slung pair of grey sweatpants. His shoulders flexed with effortless, hypnotic rhythm as he bounced a soccer ball off the brick wall, catching it on his thigh, hopping lightly to his opposite foot, and juggling it before snapping it back against the wall.

It was almost irritating how natural he looked with a ball at his feet. Pure, instinctual talent.