summer camp. I came back after graduating college in May. The summer with them in town had set my world on an awkward axis.
Every time JJ came into the Frolicking Moose for a green tea, my heart somersaulted. Maybe it was his olive eyes, subdued but bright. Or his corded, muscular arms or equally strong legs. His climbing expertise was legendary. His affinity for hiding in the rocks made him even more popular.
The Zombie Mobile, the name Mark had given his truck, sputtered to a stop next to a bank of snow, then died. JJ chuckled. Through a thick blanket of snow, I could barely make out a building in the dim headlights. Relief coursed through me so profoundly I sagged.
Safe.
The wintry world gave only a few clues to the building that seemed to lurk in the storm. A flash of warm light appeared, then vanished. JJ looked at me. For what felt like the first time that night, I really saw him.
My heart almost seized again.
Gentle hazel eyes. Long hair pulled into a sloppy man bun at the back of his head. With his wiry, strong shoulders, quick smile, and tight jaw, he was the picture of masculine grace. He regarded me with concern and compassion.
“You okay?” he asked.
A thousand replies surfaced on my tongue, but I forced them back. “Yeah,” I croaked. “Getting there. Th-thank you.”
“Your car just plunged into an icy river in the middle of a snowstorm, and you almost went with it. It’s okay if you’re not really feeling great.”
He slapped on a panty-melting smile that would have reduced a lesser woman to goo.
“Let’s get inside,” he said. “Both of us could use something very warm.”
Snow blasted the back of my neck as I stumbled out of the truck. I couldn’t feel my toes. The storm swirled in eddies of ice as I attempted to wade forward. JJ reached out, clamped a hand on the parka, and guided me to him. Once he was at my side, he hooked an arm around my shoulder and all but held me up as we trudged through two feet of snow. He wore a long-sleeved gray shirt that fit him a little too well.
Only a few feet away stood a wooden door. We hurried inside and were greeted by a blast of blessed heat.
“You’re alive, J-man.”
A man with black hair and meaty shoulders stood up from a chair near a cluttered desk. Mark, JJ’s twin. Despite being twins, they only had their face structure in common. All three of the Bailey kids, their sister Megan included, seemed to have the same face but with vastly different expressions. Where JJ was more thoughtful, Mark reminded me of an enigmatic quarterback: in love with the spotlight and adored by all.
JJ shut the door behind us with a shiver. “Definitely alive.”
“And you brought a friend!” Mark cried. “Tell me you also have coffee, Lizbeth. I could really do with a cappuccino right now.”
I felt, more than saw, JJ shake his head.
Mark’s face fell. He appraised me with open curiosity. Mark and I had never really spoken. Although he came to the coffee shop I managed, he was always on his phone. JJ and I sometimes spoke, but it was rare that I could summon words in the face of my soul-deep crush.
“She’s going to hang out with us for the night,” JJ said. “She’s . . . had some car troubles.”
Suddenly, the warm fire was especially warm, and the smell of man-cave especially pungent. My trembling had ceased, but I still felt sick to my stomach. When the crunch of the falling car replayed in my head, I forced back a wave of nausea.
JJ rested a warm hand on my shoulder. It grounded me against the rush of hysteria. My eternal gratitude for his perceptiveness deepened another notch. I just wanted Bethany to wrap me in her arms while I cried.
“She needs a hot shower,” JJ said with a gentle squeeze. “Storytime later.”
“No problem, Liz,” Mark said as I peeled off the parka. “Get warmed up. JJ’s on deck for dinner tonight, so you know it’s going to be good. You’re shaking. I’ll build up the fire.”
Mark grabbed a coat and disappeared through a back door at the end of a hallway. The area was sparsely decorated. What was there looked accidental. A giant desk with a computer and phone filled the far wall, near the fireplace. Papers, file folders, unwashed coffee mugs, fast-food wrappers, and a ridiculous number of pens