Feeling like I could finally relax and breathe again, I settled against the post opposite her so I could see her as we talked. Granted, that was a bit presumptuous of me, but I wasn’t opposed to going after something I wanted. And I wanted a conversation—I didn’t want to be alone.
“Are you staying at the resort or just passing through?”
The beginnings of a confident smirk toyed with one corner of her mouth. “I’m staying here—got in this morning.”
I really wanted to find out which cabin she was in, but even I knew that would be a creepy thing to ask. So I did the next best thing. “What’s your name?” With that piece of information, I could look it up without scaring her off.
“McKenna.” A last name would’ve been helpful, but I wasn’t about to complain.
“Are you here with anyone, or are you staying by yourself?”
Her light eyes narrowed the slightest bit. It must’ve been an involuntary move, because it only lasted a split second. As fast as it came on, the fleeting concern dissolved, and an almost unnoticeable excitement colored her fair cheeks. “By myself.”
Suddenly, I understood her reaction. The last thing I wanted was to make her think I was a stalker, although I felt safe in the assumption that she didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from explaining myself anyway. “Oh, I was just curious why you were down here alone. I thought maybe you were trying to get away from family or something.”
“My cabin faces the wrong way, and the restaurant was packed. The only available space they had left was to stand at the bar, which also faces the wrong way. I started walking, heading toward the lake, and I ended up here. I didn’t expect anyone to show up, so I thought it’d be fine.”
She must not have noticed the large deck around the back of the bar, where everyone would eventually gather once the celebration began. But I wasn’t about to tell her that and risk her leaving. So instead, I pointed to the cooler I’d set down next to her and asked, “Mind shoving that this way?”
She slid it toward me and then relaxed a little more against the railing. Her right leg—the one not dangling off the dock—was bent at the knee with her bare foot pulled close to the apex of her thighs. She had on a pair of cuffed khaki shorts that could very likely give a few things away with the way she sat, so I tried not to look. But the way she mindlessly picked at the skin on her heel made it damn near impossible to focus on anything else.
Wondering if this was such a good idea after all, I grabbed a beer, and just as I reached in to get a second one for McKenna, I thought twice about it. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen. Why?”
Technically she was underage, so by law, it was illegal to give her any alcohol. Although—my mind had this fantastic way of justifying things to make me feel better about certain decisions—she is at least eighteen years old. That logic made tons of sense, considering I regularly had beer in my fridge when I was her age. Not to mention, there were only six in the cooler; even if we split them, it wouldn’t be enough to get her drunk.
Shrugging to myself, I decided not to worry about the details. I had a cold can in my hand for myself and nudged the cooler toward her. At least this way, I wouldn’t feel like I’d offered it to her—or pressured her into drinking. If she took one, then she took one. And after glancing between me and the open cooler a few times, that was precisely what she did.
“How old are you?” she asked as she popped the top, the sound echoing around us.
“Twenty-one.”
McKenna didn’t drop her stare, she just flicked her gaze between my eyes, reading me the way a blind man’s fingertips deciphered braille. It made me a little self-conscious, if I were honest. Without the ability to hear her thoughts, there was no telling what was going through that pretty head of hers.
I wasn’t a stranger to beautiful women. Running a resort on a lake kind of ensured that I was around my fair share. Especially in the spring and summer months when most would prance around in bikinis and frayed denim shorts, begging to be noticed. However, I couldn’t for the life of me remember a time a woman had me so wrapped up that my brain refused to think straight. There was something about this one that caught me off guard, her presence practically hypnotizing me.
In a genuine effort to break the spell she had me under, I glanced down to the one place I’d fought to ignore—the same spot I’d caught her picking at a moment ago. She held the cold can against her heel as if to soothe a pain or ache. A pair of sandals sat next to her, and it made me wonder if she’d stepped on something on her way here. It could’ve been an anxious tic, but other than the first few seconds of meeting her, I hadn’t detected a nervous bone in her body. I gestured to her foot and asked, “Are you okay?”
She dropped her chin to see what I was talking about as if unaware of her actions. “Oh, yeah…I think I got a splinter or something in it when I tried to get up.”
Without a second thought, I leaned forward and wrapped my fingers around her ankle. I’d expected her to put up a fight, but after only the slightest hesitation, she allowed me to pull her leg to my lap. The sun was fading fast, so if I had any hope of not only finding the splinter but removing it as well, then I needed to work quickly.
That meant I had to stop staring at her.
Using the light from my cell and the pocketknife that I carried with me everywhere, I managed to find the sliver of wood lodged in her heel and pulled it out effortlessly. On the one hand, I was happy with myself for removing something that had caused her physical pain. On the other, I was disappointed that I’d done it so quickly. I wasn’t ready to stop touching her.
So I didn’t.
As if my hands had a mind of their own, I began massaging her foot with my thumbs, which elicited a soft, hummed moan from McKenna. I glanced up, and the sight of her immediately caused my breathing to slow. She innocently sucked her plump lower lip into her mouth, her eyes darkening, the red scarf reappearing around her neck again. It was the most unintentionally erotic moment I’d ever witnessed.
An odd sense of déjà vu slammed into me. It wasn’t soft or slow forming. It crashed over me like an angry wave, threatening to drown me. Suffocating. I somehow knew this woman. Like a part of my soul knew her. It was the strangest feeling I’d ever experienced, which left me silent and stoic.
Her shoulders rose and her chest lifted, yet she didn’t pull her leg away. Then a harsh, rushed exhale blew past her lips. She dropped her gaze to the center of my chest before peering out across the lake. But it was only for a moment. As soon as her eyes met mine again, my pulse accelerated until I could feel it in every pressure point. My neck thrummed. Even my fingertips danced to the hurried tempo of my heartbeat.
“Thank you.” Never had two whispered words carried such desire.
I let up on the massage, though I didn’t let go of her foot. I kept it in my lap, resting on my thigh as I lightly stroked it with my fingertips. It was involuntary; I felt powerless to stop myself. I had never in my life felt so compelled to be near another person. I guess it was just one more thing to add to my growing list of confusion.
“For what?”
Her gaze narrowed, followed by a carefully guarded grin. “For getting out the splinter.”