Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Troy

This woman is adorable. From her cute outfit to her glasses to the way she interacts with Shelby and Noah.

I could tell she was a little surprised when she got here, and I can't blame her. I thought she'd text me when she was on her way. Or when she got here. Or something. My plan had been to be in the house when she arrived, but instead, she didn't respond after I told her to get here as soon as she could, so I wasn't entirely sure she was coming at all. Plus, Nick and I were talking, and I lost track of time, then suddenly Tina's hollering at me about my friend being here.

I couldn't scramble up the stairs fast enough, and then I found her looking almost stunned, standing just inside the door like she was too scared to come inside.

She reminds me of Mitzy, the cat we adopted when I was in high school. One of Mom's coworkers was moving into a place that didn't allow pets, so Mom took in this long-haired white and black cat. As soon as we let her out of her carrier box, she darted away and went into hiding. We didn't see her for weeks and only knew she was alive and still in the house because she used her litter box and we kept refilling her food and water bowls.

One day, I was home alone doing homework on the couch when Mitzy made her first appearance. She snuck out of the hallway, stopped in the doorway, and stared at me.

When I noticed her, I looked up and said, "Hey, Mitzy!"

And she darted away.

The next time she snuck into the room while I was there, I didn't acknowledge her at all. Slowly, she crept closer. But when I looked at her, she ran away again.

After about a week of this happening daily, she eventually hopped onto the couch next to me, sat down, and started purring. If I tried to pet her, she'd leave. But if I let her be, she'd sit with me. Eventually, she adapted to our house and family, but we had to take it slow and let her set the terms.

Anna's not nearly as skittish as Mitzy, but she has that same kind of energy. She's curious and wants to be here, but one wrong move, and she'll dart back into hiding.

I don't want her to dart into hiding again. I want her to feel comfortable with me, but I'm acutely aware of the fact that I only have about ten days left here in Arcadian Falls. Will that be enough time for us to get past her natural skittishness? Does it really matter either way? Is there a point in even trying if I'm just leaving anyway?

My stomach clenches at the thought of letting this—her—go. Giving up and not even trying anymore isn't in my DNA. My whole life has been about working and striving and conquering.

Except it's not now. Not anymore.

I'm not a hockey player anymore. I'm just … a guy. Directionless and adrift.

God, that's not dramatic or anything. Jesus. I need to get a handle on myself.

So what if I haven't figured out what to do next? It's only been a few weeks. Hell, even deciding to retire wasn't all that long ago, and then I was still working on finishing out the season as strong as possible, rehabbing my knee until it only twinges a little when I'm running up and down the stairs here or horsing around with Nick and Tina's kids.

And just because I'm scheduled to leave with everyone in a week doesn't mean I have anywhere to be …

Besides, Anna's not taking nearly as long to get comfortable as Mitzy did. Anna's holding my hand, her shoulder bumping against my bicep as we stroll down the path to the dock, past the canoes and kayaks that came with the rental. "We could go out in a canoe if you want," I suggest, breaking our comfortable silence.

She stops, looks at the silver canoe, the water, and then at me, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she considers. "Is that something you'd want to do?"

I shrug, taking in the way the setting sun seems to paint her skin a rose gold. She raises one hand to shield her eyes against the glare of the evening sun, and I shift to the side so my shadow falls across her face. She smiles up at me in gratitude.

With her face tipped up, her plump lips look so inviting. I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy. We're standing close enough. All I'd need to do is bend my head and bring my lips to hers …

Instead, I clear my throat, glancing out at the water, then back over my shoulder toward the fire pit. I can't hear anyone, so I'm assuming Nick's attending the fire but the kids are still inside with Tina. This is as much privacy as we're likely to get right now, and it's possible this is all the alone time we'll get tonight. Why did I think inviting her over to hang with Nick and his family was a good idea?

Ugh.

"I enjoy the canoe," I murmur. "It's calming being out on the water. We don't have to go far."

She looks at the canoe again. "I haven't been in a canoe since I went to summer camp in middle school. A couple of my cabin mates and I decided to take one out during free time one afternoon, and two boys from the eighth-grade boys' cabin followed us and tipped us over."

My eyebrows jump up at that story. "Seriously?"

Facing me, she grins. "Yup. They were terrible. We were stuck in the middle of the water, and every time we tried to get back in the canoe, it'd turn over again. They just sat there laughing. Eventually, the lifeguard on duty heard us screaming and saw all the splashing and sent some counselors out to help us out."

"What happened to the boys?"

She smirks. "They got sent home. It was a last straw kind of situation." She shrugs. "I don't know what happened to them after that. I never saw them again."

I hold my hand over my heart. "I promise you won't fall out of this canoe. If any pipsqueak eighth graders try to tip us over, I'll fend them off with an oar."

Laughing, she nods and points at me. "I'll hold you to that."

I hold up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. "Scout's honor."

Still laughing, she squints at me. "Were you even a Boy Scout?"

Grinning, I shake my head, leading her to the canoe. "Nope. No time. Hockey always took precedence. A guy I grew up with made it to Eagle Scout, though. What about you? Were you a Girl Scout?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. It didn't interest me. I do like their cookies, though."

"Who doesn't?" Releasing her hand, I guide the canoe along the dock, crouching low to hold it close to the edge. "Alright, you climb in first, and then I'll get in."

Nodding, her brow furrowed in concentration, she gingerly climbs into the canoe, steadying herself with a hand on the dock. She chooses the more forward seat, her fingers gripping the cleat on the dock. "Okay. I'm in. Your turn."

She lets out a little squeak that makes me smile when the canoe bobs under my weight, but the two of us together keep it steady until I'm in and seated.

"You gonna help me row?" I ask, picking up an oar.

Looking at me over her shoulder, she nods. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

I grin. This woman is perfection. I pass her the oar in my hand and pick up the other one stowed in the canoe, using it to shove us away from the dock. "Let me know when you want to head back."

She gives me a thumbs up over her shoulder, her oar dipping into the water on her right. I put mine in on the left, sending us straight out into the water.

"There's a little bay around the curve over there with a sandy beach. It's only accessible by boat, and there aren't any houses there. Want to check it out?"

The smile she gives me over her shoulder takes my breath away. "That sounds fantastic."

We fall into an easy rhythm, and I switch sides when Anna does unless I need to course correct to get us around the bend to the place I have in mind. I hadn't planned on suggesting this, since the invitation was for the fire and s'mores, but I'm glad I did. It's peaceful out here, the only sounds the slap of the water against the canoe, the swish and splash of the oars, and the faint sounds of boats elsewhere on the lake. The cabin we rented is remote enough that we're not bothered by neighbors often, and we're in our own little bay on the long, wiggly lake. It's amazing that a place so close to town isn't more populated, making the cabin even more of a gem, and the price for it seems reasonable, all things considered.

And watching Anna's back as she rows is more of a turn-on than I expected. She's gorgeous. The lines of her back as she wields the oar pulling her shirt taut, the nip of her waist accentuated by the shirt she has tied around it, the muscles in her arms standing out as she pulls the oar …

Most of the women I've dated are the spin class and pilates types, and their exercise is carefully controlled and regimented by their schedule. Additional activities were rarely allowed and had to be planned well in advance.

I wonder if Anna'd ever go ice skating with me?

A vision of her in leggings and a sweater, holding my hand as we glide around the ice fills my mind, and it seems perfect.

That's the ideal, isn't it? A woman who's happy to be with me, having fun and spending time together? And I need someone who's willing to be active because no matter what comes next, I've never been the type of guy who can sit still and do nothing for long.

Anna gasps as we round the bend, picking up her oar and just basking in the beauty before us. I can't blame her. My own strokes slow as I look around too. There's no one here, which is perfect, though it's obvious people come here at least occasionally. There's a fire ring on the beach and when I was here yesterday, I cleaned up wrappers, bottles, and cans that someone else had left behind. Hopefully, there's no new litter since then.

"This is beautiful," Anna says over her shoulder, and I grin.

"I agree. Do you mind getting your feet wet?"

"Not at all," she says with a sweet smile.

I resume rowing, and Anna laughs, the sound pure joy as I speed us toward the beach. She keeps her oar across the boat over her legs, which is fine because I've got it covered. I run us aground, the prow of the canoe biting deeply into the sand. Stowing the oar in the boat, I kick off my flip-flops, intending to get out first and hold the canoe steady so Anna can climb out. But before I do, she's already out of her seat, holding onto the edge of the canoe while she climbs out like she does this frequently.

"You sure you haven't been in a canoe since middle school?" I ask, watching her with a big, goofy grin on my face. She's completely unselfconscious, letting out a little shriek as she hits the water.

"It's cold!" she exclaims, meeting my eyes.

I nod. "Aren't you from around here? Don't you know the lake is cold year round?"

She shrugs, walking up onto the beach to make room for me to climb out as well. "I haven't been in the lake much here. So no, not really."

The canoe shifts a little as I climb forward to get out in the shallower water, but stays embedded in the sand. Once I'm out, I pull the canoe farther up the beach, then step in front of Anna, my eyebrows raised in question. "How long have you lived here?"

"Four years," she answers quietly. "Almost exactly. I moved at the beginning of June."

"You've been here for four years, and you've never gotten into the water?"

Shaking her head, she looks away, turning to take in the cove. There's a line where the land falls away, tree roots visible. It must be the high water mark, which means this beach is underwater at least part of the year. Above that line, tall trees surround us, cutting us off from the rest of the world. It feels like we're all alone here, and it feels good getting Anna all to myself, even if it's only for a short while.

"No," she says quietly. "I haven't explored the area much. I mostly just work and go home."

"Really?" The question is out before I can stop myself, and I hold my breath, waiting to see if she'll dart away. Not literally, of course, but she could easily retreat back into her shell of anxiety and self-consciousness.

But she doesn't. She glances at me, then resumes her study of our surroundings, stepping away from me to walk slowly around the fire ring, trailing her fingers along the edge of the giant driftwood log off to one side. "I've been"—she tilts her head to one side as she looks for the right word—"hibernating I guess is the best way to put it." She glances at me then. "But I think I'm ready to stop."