I shut my eyes for what felt like a minute, making a baby is apparently quite exhausting, and when I woke up, the credits to the movie were rolling. My phone buzzed and there was a text from Tess along with a blurry photo of Jake McManus with his shirt off. I had to admit, for a retired hockey player, his body was still top-notch. That’s when I noticed the message from Dylan. It must have been the one that came in just before I fell asleep.

  Just seeing his name on my phone made my lips turn into a smile. I clicked on the message and as my eyes scanned it, I sat bolt upright. It read:

  Get ready for our first date. I’m coming to pick you up at seven-thirty.

  The time on my phone read 7:20.

  “Shit.” I threw off the blanket and bolted to my bedroom. I couldn’t go for a date looking like I had just wandered in from milking the cows in a previous century. I read the text again, hoping for a hint of what we were doing. Did I put on a dress with heels or something sporty and cute? Fucking men. They had no idea what we went through when it came to getting ready for a date – let alone a surprise date.

  I opted for some black leggings and a black cashmere sweater over a black T-shirt. My hair had been piled into a messy bun on the top of my head and I shook it out, put on some minimal makeup, and finished my look with my statement red lipstick. As a model, I knew how to put myself together at a moment’s notice.

  My text back simply read: see you soon. I added a smiley face. Nothing too cutesy, but not cold either. Then, I put on some music, picked up a magazine, and took a seat on my screened-in porch, waiting for the sound of his sexy as hell-looking motorcycle to come down the driveway.

  At 7:35, I still hadn’t heard the motorcycle, so when Dylan appeared on my front stairs, I almost let out a scream.

  “Hi.” He smiled. “Did I scare you?”

  Yes.

  “No, I just didn’t hear you drive in.” I stood and opened the door to the porch. “Come in.”

  Dylan paused in the open door and produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “These are for you.”

  It was the most beautiful bouquet I’d ever seen. The flowers were all different shades of pink. “They’re beautiful.” I put the bunch of flowers to my nose. “Let me put these in some water.”

  Before I could turn to head into the bunkie, Dylan’s hand was on my wrist, and he was pulling me toward him. He snatched the flowers from my hand and tossed them into the woods.

  “What are you doing—”

  The second his lips were on mine I completely forgot about the flowers or anything else in the world besides Dylan. My knees wobbled and he pulled me a little tighter to him.

  “My yard is full of those flowers. I’ll get you more tomorrow.” He whispered in my ear. “And then the next day… If you want them,” he added.

  I nodded and let my head rest on his chin. “I do want them.” I kissed his lips again and then we locked eyes. “I want them every day.”

  “You got it, Queen,” he growled.

  I smiled. “Last time it was Princess, Did I get a promotion?”

  “Nah.” He squeezed both of my ass cheeks at the same time. “I was an idiot and didn’t realize the power of the woman standing in front of me. You’re no princess, B. You’re a queen. All day, every day.”

  The whoosh of adrenaline that surged through my body following his words caught me off guard and I felt a little light-headed. I held onto his shoulders and hoped that I wouldn’t fall. “And what does that make you?” I knew that he wouldn’t say, Prince Charming, Dylan Moss was a lot of things, but predictable and cheesy wasn’t one of them. I was expecting ‘king.’

  He wrapped one arm around my waist and the other up my back, completely supporting my body weight. I swayed lightly on my feet and he gripped a little harder. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.

  The strength came back to my body, and I pressed my whole self against him so hard he teetered on the stairs. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you the king?”

  His eyes flashed. “No baby.” He swept me off my feet and into his arms. “I’m the fucking court jester.”

  I squealed and kicked my feet. “No, not the jester!” I slapped at his shoulders. He was heading to the lake. “Where are you taking me?”

  He set me down on the path and slipped his hand into mine. “On our date m’lady.” We followed the pathway to the lake, and I gasped when we got to the dock and Calliope was moored at the end.

  He squeezed my hand. “You need to inspect my work. Floyd’s got a rule that a boat has to pass the sunset cruise engine test before we release it to the owners.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and slipped them into my hand.

  “She’s all fixed?” I thought that it was going to take at least three days.

  Dylan gave a light shrug. “I guess you rubbed your mechanic the right way.”

  The double entendre was rude – but his wry grin made up for it. “Oh, did I?”

  It felt like Dylan and I had been walking hand in hand and joking with each other forever – except for the butterflies having a party in my stomach. We neared the main cottage and I pulled my hand from Dylan’s. I didn’t think the staff would talk about me, but if the house manager was onsite, her loyalties sat with my parents, not me – and strolling hand in hand, laughing like a hyena with the mechanic wasn’t going to be easily explained.

  “By the way, someone from the Yates Estate called today to check in on Calliope.”

  “Oh no,” I whispered, weaving my fingers through Dylan’s once we were hidden by the forest between the main cottage and the boathouse.

  “Don’t worry. I told Floyd to tell your family’s secretary, or whatever her job is…”

  “Estate Manager,” I grumbled.

  “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Floyd told your estate manager that it was routine maintenance. The boat is running like a top – your family will never know that you almost murdered their beloved woody.”

  This time it wasn’t a naughty slip of the tongue. Woody was a Lake Casper colloquial term for any old wooden boat. All the old rich men sat around smoking cigars and talking about their woodies without cracking a smile. As a teenager, I had teased my dad for it, but he didn’t care.

  I was practically skipping as we reached the dock. “I didn’t do it on purpose, so it couldn’t be murder. I think it would be considered boatslaughter.”

  Dylan’s laugh was throaty and guttural. “Do I dare let someone capable of boatslaughter captain Calliope?”

  I kicked off my black topsiders at the same time Dylan kicked off his flip-flops. I pointed to his footwear, “Do they issue all of you guys a pair of these?”

  “All you guys?” Dylan raised his eyebrows and hopped into the boat. He held out his hand and helped me get settled in the captain’s chair.

  “Hockey players.” I turned the key and the engine roared briefly before settling into a low purr.

  Dylan slid into the seat next to me. “They issue them along with a pack of Spits and an Otters’ hat.”

  “Spits?” The hockey world had its own language – one that I didn’t speak. I knew that barn meant arena and biscuit meant puck, but that’s as far as my hockey jargon went.

  “I forgot that you didn’t grow up around the game. Sunflower seeds. A lot of the guys switched over to sunflower seeds when chewing tobacco wasn’t cool anymore.”

  “Was it ever?” I scrunched up my face. “What are you guys, cowboys in the old west?”

  He waggled his brows at me over top of his sunglasses and put the Otters’ hat on my head. “There, you’re a third of the way there.” I turned the hat backward and navigated the boat into the deeper water before pushing down the throttle. The powerful engine growled and echoed off the granite outcroppings until we entered the choppy whitecaps of the big open water in the middle of the lake.

  As we rounded Danger Island, I slowed and followed the channel markers, keeping an eye on the rocks that had claimed the propellers of many boats.

  “You’re a good Captain.” Dylan squeezed my hand but didn’t let go.

  There was no other way to describe how I felt with Dylan besides right. It felt both new and exciting, like a new relationship should feel, but also full of comfort and knowing, like we’d been together for twenty years and knew and loved each line and wrinkle and fault of the other. “You’re a good mechanic.” I patted the steering wheel. “She’s running the best I’ve ever seen.” I slipped my hand from his but was glad when he kept his resting on my thigh. I turned in my seat to look at the back of the boat and as a result, his hand naturally crept higher on my thigh. “And look…” I turned to face forward and crossed my legs, trapping his fingertips between my thighs, “no smoke.”

  “Always a good sign,” he laughed. The setting sun reflected in his glasses.

  Another boat passed and we both gave the friendly Lake Casper wave. The driver returned the wave and gaped at the boat. He was clearly appreciative of the rare woody. I glanced over at Dylan and could see that he was dealing with a woody of his own. That’s when the guilt crept in. I was having so much fun with Dylan, but I knew that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Was that fair to him? I mean, he was a hot-blooded man and I had first-hand knowledge of the power he wielded between his legs.

  His eyes caught mine and he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “You look so hot with that hat on backward.”

  I took it off and put it on his head. “I think it looks better on you.”

  “I doubt it.” He turned it backward and was easily the hottest-looking man I’d ever seen, his hair flicking out from beneath it. “The sun sure is giving us a show tonight. If we weren’t on a secret date, I’d take you for an ice cream cone at Laketown Lickety.”

  The ice cream shop was accessible by both car and boat, and at this time of night would have a lineup down the road and the dock. “Mmmm. I could go for ice cream.”

  He grinned and pulled a cooler from the back of the boat. “I thought you might say that. It was either champagne or ice cream.” He held up a bottle of champagne and two ice cream sandwiches.”

  “I’m a responsible boater.” I patted the steering wheel, so I’ll have one of the sandwiches. “But if you want a bit of bubbly, I won’t object.”

  “Bron,” he unwrapped one of the ice cream sandwiches. “I don’t know if you know this, but I had a bit of a rough patch a couple of years ago.”

  “I remember.” I pulled back so the boat was barely in gear, and we rocked gently as the boat cruised along the shoreline at a snail’s pace. “You stopped calling me for a while.”

  “I had some issues with booze and Coach stopped me before I hit rock bottom.”

  I knew that the timing fell within his grieving of his parent’s death. “You’re lucky to have him in your life. But Dylan, I wish you would’ve talked to me.” I licked the edge of the ice cream sandwich and then squeezed his hand. “You could’ve talked to me about your parents.”

  “Could I?” He took a bit of his ice cream. “I thought that we were just…um…”

  “Fucking?” I finished his sentence.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I thought you got off on being with a dirtbag.”

  I finished the sandwich and licked the sticky wafer off my fingers. “Dylan Moss. I have never, ever been with a dirtbag.”

  “You know what I mean.” He looked at the horizon.

  “No, no I don’t. I never saw you as anything but a hot guy who also made me laugh.”

  “That’s not all I made you do.” His lips turned up slightly. It had become very apparent that Dylan used humor to diffuse a situation and I wasn’t going to fall into his trap.

  “No. You’re not getting out of that self-deprecating comment so easily. I wasn’t slumming it with you, Dylan.”

  “Oh, come on.” His head whipped to look at me. “You’re telling me that you weren’t just having some fun with someone completely disposable because that’s how I felt.”

  Now I was getting angry. “I could say the same thing. You showed up whenever you felt like it -sometimes at three a.m. Then I wouldn’t hear from you for months at a time. You treated me like a summertime cottage girl, one that you’d never have to be serious about.”

  The boat rocked as we stared each other down. “That’s not what I thought,” he said quietly.

  “Same.” I crossed my arms across my chest. I could imagine walking down the aisle with Dylan Moss, even if it was forbidden by my parents. “I liked you for you.”

  He crossed his arms and his lips narrowed. “I liked you for you too.”

  It was a standoff of the weirdest complimentary argument I’d ever experienced. His lip quivered before mine. Once his laugh escaped his lips, mine did too. “Are we fighting about how we genuinely like and respect each other?” he laughed.

  I took my sunglasses off and wiped a tear of laughter.

  The lyrics to a Van Morrison song floated through the air and once I put the boat in neutral and turned off the engine, I was able to identify it – Moondance. The pinks and purples of the sunsets were reflecting off Dylan’s glasses and the warm wind rustled my hair. “This song reminds me of my mom.” He smiled and looked to the horizon.

  “I wish that I could’ve met her. I can tell that you sincerely loved her.” I paused. “Which is more than I can say for my mom.”

  “You’re not close?” Dylan asked.

  “Not at all. I was raised by nannies. My dad was always working, and my mom was either working out or going to some spa.” As a kid, I was invisible to her, or more like a mosquito – an annoyance. As if on cue a mosquito’s high-pitched whine droned by my ear.

  “What about your dad?” Dylan turned to look at me and intertwined his fingers around mine.

  “As I said, he worked a lot. Although, we had some things in common, like sailing.”

  “Your mom didn’t like yachting?”

  I laughed. “Oh, she liked yachting. I’m talking about racing dinghies. I’m not sure why they married actually.” I partially knew the answer, my mom was with my dad for his money. My dad? I don’t know what he got out of the deal.

  An awkward pause followed. As the flute solo fluttered to an end, Into the Mystic came on the radio. “They must be doing a Van Morrison night,” Dylan whispered. He stood and pulled me from my seat and slid his hand to my lower back and held my hand with his. I glanced around, scanning the horizon for boats.

  “Don’t worry, B,” he whispered. “No one can see us.” His breath was hot on my ear and to my surprise, Dylan started swaying and humming to the music. I was stiff as a board. Taking a test ride with the mechanic was explainable, dancing with him to the sunset? That was above and beyond the services offered at Lake Casper Marine. “Dance with me, B.” This time he kissed my ear and I melted into him. Thankfully, he had a firm grip on my back. Holding onto his shoulder, I rested my head on his chest and let the music, waves, and breeze fill my body with their movement. Dylan and I were one, moving with nature and each other’s gentle sway. I had to rethink this whole dating thing. As Dylan’s heart thumped beneath my ear, I knew I’d never be able to let him go. I was falling in love. No. That wasn’t true. I had completely and utterly fallen head over heels in love with Dylan Moss. And that meant one thing I was going to have to give up my fortune to be with him. At that moment, as the first stars started to appear, I was fully prepared to walk away from the Yates Petroleum dynasty for the man whose arms were wrapped around me.

  And it felt good.

  Fourteen

  Dylan

  The sweat rolled down my face and dripped from my chin. Leo barked orders and made us repeat the play.

  “How many more times do we have to do this?” Mike raised his stick in the air. “It’s perfect. That last time, totally perfect.” His voice echoed through the barn.

  “You were one stride behind,” Leo shouted back and blew his whistle.

  I skated up beside the assistant coach and my friend. “Leo, it was perfect. If you keep working these guys this hard, half of them are going to barf and the other half are going to collapse.”

  The sound of Jasper retching over the boards proved my point. Leo’s lips had been drawn in a line, but they relaxed. “I just want them to do well.”

  “I know you do.” I took off my glove and wiped the sweat from my chin. “But they’re going to be no good to you if you keep pushing them this hard.”

  The buzzer sounded, but the guys continued the play. “Leo,” I urged. “Come on.”

  He blew the whistle and the relief on the ice was noticeable. “You’re right, Captain.” He waved the guys off the ice. “Nice hustle today.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t know if it was obvious, but I had given the practice at least one hundred and ten percent.

  Leo followed me off the ice. “Moss,” he called as he jogged on his skates to catch up to me before I went into the dressing room. “I meant to ask you, what’s going on with you and the model? I noticed you two disappeared from Fitzy’s boathouse the other night.”

  Leo and I had been friends for years. Would he know if I was lying? I was about to find out. “She wasn’t feeling well. Something about gluten. I took her home.”

  “You two looked pretty cozy. I can’t believe she’d be seen with a guy like you.”

  His comment was meant as a joke, but it cut like a blade. “We’re just friends. I was helping her with her boat and invited her to come along, I don’t think she knows too many people here.”

  “She doesn’t know any normal people,” Leo corrected. “She doesn’t know any Laketownies.”

  I sighed. “True. But that’s not her fault. And Leo, she’s not a snob. She can hang out with anyone.” I shot him a grin, “Even you.”

  He laughed, even though it could’ve been taken as an insult. “She does seem pretty cool for a billionaire. You should try to get in on that.”