Midsummer Fling - Abby Knox Page 0,2

shouldn’t be witnessing this.

“You like me feral.”

Somebody save me, this feels like a little game between them. Are they going to start humping right here on the office desk? Do I need to cover the eyes of the fake moose head that’s mounted on the wall? And those of the poor little cuckoo bird in the clock?

Gretchen finally hands over my key, and that’s when she walks in: the person who was double-booked for my cabin, I presume.

Her friendly eyes quickly transform into confused and wary when she reads the room. Soft waves of hair brush her bare shoulders, exposed in a checked halter top. Below that, her denim shorts have been cut off so high I can see the ends of her front pockets. If it weren’t for her bare fingernails and practical-looking sneakers, she’d look like a curvy pinup model. But the most arresting thing about her is a pair of familiar eyes that communicate openness and kindness. I need to know her. I will know her. As crazy as it sounds, I know right then and there I’m looking at my future wife.

Gretchen and Matthew can make all the calls they want, but this lady is not going anywhere. Because I’m not letting this person out of my sight.

Chapter 3

Penny

I can’t believe I’m back here.

I arrive at Rocky Shores Resort and my first thought is, Everything is the same. There’s the sparkling lake, the rickety dock, fir and birch trees lining the shore, a scrubby patch of sand where my sister and I used to fight over the sandcastle buckets, the firepit, and about ten quaint log cabins that look like they came straight out of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Some have two bedrooms, but I’ve rented one of the smaller cabins.

I park my car at the main office and go inside, where instantly I’m slapped by a chaotic energy I wasn’t expecting. There are the three bears all right—a frazzled mama on the phone, an angry papa bear with flames shooting out of his ears, and an overgrown, annoyed teddy bear with so much sinew in his forearms that my knees tremble.

Those forearms are impatiently crossed at his chest while he stares at the ceiling. He has that look of someone awaiting a third round of bad news from customer service.

All eyes pivot to take me in when the screen door smacks shut behind me.

The mama and the papa bear change their faces as if getting ready to apologize. The third bear looks like he could eat me for breakfast with some berries and wild honey. I would let him, and I would say “Thank you very much, sir, would you like some more?”

The woman looks at her counterpart, urging him to take the lead. “Uhh, it seems we had a mix-up. The cabin that came open was unintentionally double-booked. I’m so sorry. But we are doing our best to take care of you and find you another place to stay,” he says.

Shocked and disappointed, I look from the man to the woman I assume is his wife. “I don’t understand. I made the reservation yesterday over email,” I say.

The husband, who introduces himself as Matthew and his wife as Gretchen, nods and replies, “Yes, and my wife took this gentleman’s reservation over the phone early yesterday morning and didn’t enter it into the spreadsheet.”

I look at the feet of “this gentleman,” because if I keep looking at his piercing eyes, I might fold like a chair under the pressure to change my reservation. His cheap flip-flops and ratty cotton shorts remind me of every other bro I’ve ever met. At least his toenails are trimmed. Nothing worse than a dude with unkempt toenails.

Gretchen pipes up, “And my husband didn’t check the physical logbook before taking yours, dear.” She appears to be on hold, looking for some other place for me to stay.

I gather my courage and lift my gaze again to meet the other guest’s eyes. Still looks like he wants to eat me for dinner. I can’t tell if he’s upset or trying to intimidate me into giving up my room. Matthew continues to explain and apologize, but I’m not even mad. I feel this stranger’s stare, and I’m digging his frustrated energy. He needs to lighten up; How recently has he gotten laid? I wonder.

The slightly naughty corner of my mind dares him to lick his lips while he eyes me like that. The dirtier place in my mind imagines how talented