None of them figured on her being knocked up before her high school graduation, least of all Stella herself.
What could she say? She’d been young, and headstrong, and high on that dizzy cocktail of summer romance and lust. They’d fumbled with a condom – but clearly, not carefully enough. Because there she was, pregnant. And just like that, the magic spell that had been wrapped around her life suddenly melted away, and Stella woke up to find herself in the real world.
Alone.
She shook off the old memories as she turned down the bumpy dirt road towards home: a rambling old farmhouse nestled a few miles outside town. She’d bought the place for a song years ago, when it was barely standing after a bad storm. Nobody had lived there in decades, but she’d fixed it up little by little, trading plumbing work with the local contractors until the roof was fixed, and the walls were sturdy, and the old Aga stove in the flagstone kitchen kept them snug all winter long. A little corner of Cape Cod, just for them.
A cluttered, overflowing corner, full of school projects, and discarded laundry, and hairy, enthusiastic beasts. Matty was a soft-hearted kid, a sucker for any stray that came his way, and somehow, they’d gone from a single, neat little hamster to three dogs, two cats, and a couple of ornery alpacas, who’d wandered off the Lane farm last year and refused to go back. It was a menagerie, alright, but Stella liked the chaos. She’d grown up in a pristine magazine spread, full of priceless objects to look at but not touch. Her life now may be haphazard, loud, and drool-stained, but it was a house full of love, and she smiled every time she walked through the door.
Today, that smile was even wider than usual. She’d cleared her afternoon to face those dreaded cupcakes for the PTA, but thanks to Summer and her cinnamon rolls, Stella had two whole hours free before school let out. She looked around. What to do? As usual, she had an endless chore list: there was laundry, of course … dogs to bathe… a grocery list on the fridge… But just as she was unloading the dishwasher, her cellphone rang.
“Who’s your favorite potter-slash-matchmaker?” Mackenzie asked, the moment Stella answered.
She smiled. “Are you considering a career change?” she asked, balancing a stack of dishes. Her friend Mackenzie owned a ceramics shop in the square, selling cute – and macabre – pottery.
“No, I don’t want to tread on Aunt June’s toes,” Mackenzie said with a laugh, “But I do have someone for you. My cousin just moved back to town, he’s a firefighter, and I think you’d be perfect together.”
“Oh yes?” Stella paused. Her friends had tried fixing her up over the years, but dating in a small town was always more trouble than it was worth. She didn’t want to make life more complicated for Matty, getting involved with one of his teachers, or his classmates’ father, so she’d made a rule for herself: to keep her romantic life outside county lines.
Not that there’d been much romance these past years. ‘Single mom’ wasn’t exactly high on most guys’ wish-list. “Why do you think we’d get along?” she asked, curious.
“Umm, didn’t you hear the part about him being a firefighter?” Mac teased. “He spends his day lifting heavy objects and rescuing puppies!”
Stella laughed.
“Anyway, we’re having drinks at the pub Friday, you should come by and say ‘hi’.” Mac continued. “You’ll like him, I promise.”
But although she was tempted, Stella paused. Liking them wasn’t the hard part. It was all the complications that came after that was the problem. And the last time she’d acted on impulse…
Well, her cheeks still burned remembering the look on Aidan Kinsella’s face when she’d kissed him in the middle of the street, out of nowhere. It was almost two months ago now, but she could still feel the hot slide of his mouth against hers; his strong hands gripping her waist. It had been an epic kiss, the kind she still fantasized about late at night…
But the only reason she’d been brave enough to do it was the handy fact that she never had to see him again. Aidan was never going to step foot in Sweetbriar Cove, but someone who she was going to bump into at the farmer’s market or the next town meeting – introduce to Matty, and explain the messy, complicated story of her life?
Stella’s chest clenched at the thought.
“I can’t Friday,” she told Mackenzie, and it was almost the truth. “I have a big job that needs finishing.”
“Aww, another time then.” Mac said. “But you know what they say about all work and no play – you need to have some fun!”
Stella rang off, and looked around. Maybe Mackenzie was right. Not about the torrid affair with a firefighter, but having a little R&R. She’d been working all week: she deserved a break. Besides, she was still sticky and hot, so she left the dishes stacked, grabbed a towel, and threw it into a beach bag along with a flask of icy lemonade before setting off down the winding path through the woods to Black Bottom Pond.
It was Stella’s favorite spot on the Cape. Everyone else loved the beaches, and paid top dollar for a spot right on the sand, but she would happily trade the waves for the cool, still waters inland any day. The pond was calm and deep, nestled in the trees, away from the bustle of tourists and chatter; ringed with reeds and buzzing dragonflies, with a small rocky shoreline and an old wooden dock floating halfway out. She’d taught Matty to swim in the shallows right there amongst the lily-pads, and on a hot day, there was nothing better. Usually, she cut through the back of the neighboring property that had direct access onto the pond, but today, when she made to clamber over the gate, she found a brand-new sign hammered into the dirt:
Private. Keep out.
Stella paused, narrowing her eyes at the warning. So, somebody had finally bought the place, then? She hoisted herself up and climbed over all the same, giving the house her usual sideways glance as she cut across the yard. The place was notorious around town: a hulking great concrete-and-glass box in the middle of the woods. She couldn’t imagine who would decide to call a sterile, modern place like that home. Some out-of-towner, probably, with more money than sense. The heating bills alone, with all those windows… But then again, people like that rarely stayed the winter. This was just a summer vacation spot to them, and come September, they were packed up and heading back to their normal lives again, leaving the locals like her to enjoy the peace and quiet of the Cape all to themselves.
It was their loss… and Stella’s gain. She smiled as emerged through the trees at the pond’s edge, ready to strip off her jeans and T-shirt and go wading in. But a flash of movement in the shallows caught her eye just in time.
There was already someone out there.
And as he rose up out of the water, Stella realized two very important things. Despite all his promises, Aidan Kinsella was back in Sweetbriar Cove.
And he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.
2
Stella stopped dead in surprise. What was he doing here? Aidan was supposed to be hundreds of miles away, living his big-shot city life, not splashing around the shallows of Black Bottom Pond in his altogether.
However good that altogether looked.
Stella stood there, still frozen on the shore. She knew the polite thing for her to do would be to hightail it home as if she’d never been there. Or, to turn her back, and call a greeting, and give Aidan the chance to wade to shore and cover his, umm, modesty. But for some reason, she couldn’t look away.