“It’s not like that.” She moved closer to me, but I inched back.

  “Yeah, it isn’t like that. I can’t believe you would even ask me a question like that. But yes, Brownyn. If in some parallel universe you lost all your money, I would still be in love with you.”

  Her eyes shot open wide, and I clamped my mouth shut, but the words were out. I took her hand in mine. “If you worked the night shift at the grocery store and lived year-round in Laketown, I would still love you. You would still be the kindest, sweetest, and most interesting person on the planet. Not to mention beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and outside. You never looked at me like I was a Laketownie. You never treated me any differently. Until tonight.

  Her eyes shimmered. “Dylan. I love you.” She slipped her hand into mine. We had just declared our love to each other, so why did it feel so sad.

  “Come on.” I pulled the comforter and sheets up and she crawled underneath. I handed her one of my Otters T-shirts and she changed into that from her sweater. I took off my shirt and slipped into the bed behind her and pulled her body close to mine, wrapping my arms around her tightly. Her breath slowed into her sleep tempo, but I couldn’t sleep. Why did she have to ask me that question? I had never thought about her money. But her family obviously did. I kissed her ear. “I love you, Bron.”

  Deep down I knew it wasn’t coming from her, but all the pieces seemed to fall into place. She wasn’t hiding me from the paparazzi. She was hiding me from her family – and now that we were official, she was going to have to prove to them that I wasn’t a gold digger.

  That wasn’t her job. I would prove it to them myself.

  Seventeen

  Bronwyn

  As the room came into focus, it took me a second to figure out where I was. A Wayne Gretzky poster was on the wall above me, and I was wrapped in a very masculine-looking plaid comforter.

  Dylan. I was at Dylan’s house. I rolled over to snuggle into him but was met with an empty bed. “Dylan?” The house was silent. I pulled back the curtain and saw that the sun had just crested the horizon and a pink hue hung over the wartime bungalows on Dylan’s street.

  I unwrapped myself from the covers and tiptoed to the bathroom. It was empty, so I splashed some water on my face and went downstairs. The house was cute but still felt like a parent’s house. The furniture was old and time-yellowed family photos hung on the walls. I laughed as I fingered the lace curtains – they definitely weren’t Dylan’s style. I poured myself a glass of water and looked out the kitchen window, where a garden full of the same beautiful pink flowers that Dylan brought me ran along the entire length of the fence.

  “Dylan?” I walked around the entire house and even opened the front door to see if he was sitting on the porch.

  My heart rate increased a few beats for every passing minute. Where had he gone? He had been upset the night before. I shouldn’t have asked him about the money. Dammit. I knew the answer. He didn’t care about the money. My mother had put that idea into my head, and I didn’t know why I had brought it up. Except for the fact that when I told my family about Dylan, I was going to be homeless and penniless.

  I sat on the porch swing and rocked it lightly as I thought about my next move. I’d have to call one of the staff to come and get me. But I didn’t want to leave before I told Dylan about the inheritance. I took a sip of water and gulped it down. After that was over, I’d have to tell him about the next big thing – the baby.

  Baby steps. I whispered to myself and then shook my head at the absurdity of it all.

  I don't know how long I sat on the porch swing before a set of headlights turned down the street.

  Where have you been? I asked.

  Dylan got out of the car and joined me on the swing. “I had to go get the vulva,” he said.

  “The what?” I must've heard wrong.

  Dylan chuckled. “It's the nickname for my car. The Volvo.” A line of crimson spread along his stubbled jawline.

  “I guess it makes sense, but real mature.” I gave him a laugh to know that I was joking. The rusty car in front of me looked like it had seen better days.

  He gave a half-hearted shrug at the immature comment. “You looked so peaceful sleeping this morning I didn't want to wake you up, but I didn't think you'd want a motorcycle ride home.”

  He was right. “I thought you'd abandoned me here.” I snuggled into him as the sun rose higher over the horizon and handed him the glass of water. “Need a drink?”

  “I'd never abandon you, Bron.” He took a sip and then kissed me on the cheek with his cold lips. “But…” he glanced at his watch, “…there are a few things I need to do this morning.”

  “I can't believe I forgot to ask. What happened with the boat buyer?”

  Dylan took a deep breath and open his mouth like he was about to speak but then changed his mind. “I'm not sure that he's interested. We didn't even discuss the price.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “It's a beautiful boat, Dylan. I think you're going to be surprised with how many people are going to want your work.”

  “Thanks, Bron. That means a lot coming from you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It's a bit of a relief though. I think I might want to keep this one for myself.”

  Dylan stood and pulled me from the swing. I threaded my fingers behind his neck and kissed him. “Do you want to help me get dressed?” I gave him a wry smile and a little wink.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned. “I would love that, but this is very important.”

  “Getting undressed is more fun anyway.” I gave him another wink. Dylan didn't follow me into the house, and I dressed quickly and ran out the front door to where he was waiting in the car.

  “Don’t you have to lock the door?” I asked, as I tried to open the passenger door. The handle clanked in my hand, but the door didn’t budge. Dylan reached across and opened the door from the inside, and I slid into the passenger seat.

  “I don’t have keys for the house.” I pressed the button to roll up the window and it shuddered and then didn’t go up at all.

  “The window doesn't work either.”

  “That's okay. I could use some fresh air.” I shot him a smile and tried to relax. The air in the car felt comfortable but also strained. I wondered if I could be reading too much to it and was projecting my guilt onto him. I should’ve told him everything.

  The car belched a trail of dark smoke as we headed through town. There was no sign of life on the main street except for a light on in the local bakery and coffee shop.

  “Would you like a coffee?” Dylan asked. “I should've made some before I got up this morning. What kind of a host am I?” He shook his head.

  Coffee. One of the few things from my past life that I truly missed. “I'll get some when I get home,” I smiled and patted his leg. “I don't want you to be late for whatever it is that you have to do.”

  “Thanks, Bronwyn.” The car shuddered as he pressed down on the gas, and we headed out of town toward my cottage. We didn't talk much on the drive and at one point Dylan turned up the radio. It was tuned into one of the two local stations, the country station.

  “This is a pretty song.” I had never really listened to country music, and it caught me by surprise that the lyrics were so beautiful.

  “Well, it's debatable if that's country. But yes. It is pretty.” He gave me a wry grin. “If you're a chick.”

  And just like that, we were back to joking. With the music in the background, I tried to figure out how I was going to explain to my family why Dylan had dropped me off.

  “I'm sorry about last night.” I turned the radio down.

  Dylan didn't take his eyes from the road. “It's okay, Bron.” I think I know where that was coming from. And just so you know, even if you were broke, I would dedicate every waking moment to making your life as happy as it could be.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. Dylan was already working two jobs to support himself. I swiped at the tears hoping that he hadn't noticed. Maybe this was a bad idea. I couldn't ask him to take care of me. That’s when it dawned on me, I didn't care about losing my fortune. I could drive around in this crappy car, I could work at any job, but what I couldn't do, is ruin this beautiful man's life beside me. Plumes of dust rolled behind us as we wound our way down the winding trail to the estate.

  “Hey, Dylan. I'm actually in the mood for a walk. Do you mind letting me out here?” We were about a mile away from the estate.

  “Are you sure?” He slowed the car and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  I gave him a big smile. “Yes, babe, I'm sure.”

  “Oookay.” He stopped the car and put it in park. “I didn’t know that you liked walking.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Dylan Moss.” I tried to be playful about it. “And one of those things is that I love walking.” I didn’t.

  Dylan reached across me to open the door. “I’d do it from the outside, like a gentleman, but…” he shrugged. “You know.”

  I pushed the door open. Dylan ran to help me out of the car, and I let my hand linger in his. “Do you have a game tonight?” I asked.

  “Nope.” He rubbed the back of my hand with his. “Wow. Your hands feel incredible.”

  “It’s that cream from Thelma. It’s amazing. I’ve ordered more.”

  “You went through that jar pretty fast. Are you sure you’re not part alligator?”

  I wanted to tell him that most of it was being slathered over my belly and thighs, but I was second-guessing all of my life choices at that moment.

  Dylan slipped his arms around my waist. “Don’t worry about anything, babe. I can see it in your eyes. It takes a lot more than a money comment to hurt my feelings.”

  I squeezed my eyes tightly to stop the tears. “I’m so sorry about that, Dylan. I really and truly am.”

  “I know.” He kissed me and then stepped back but kept my hand in his. “I don’t have a game or practice tonight. Do you want to go on a date? Maybe even the fishing one that we talked about?”

  Yes. Everything in my body wanted to scream yes - to a fishing date. Who had I become? “I’ll call you later.” It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no. I hugged him and squeezed his perfect hockey player ass. I still didn’t know what I was going to do. I had been so certain that giving up my fortune for Dylan was the right thing for me that I’d forgotten to think about him.

  Disappointment flashed in his eyes and then he shot me his patented Dylan Moss smile. “I’ll let you use my rod.”

  The man had a way of breaking the tension and I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “Can’t wait.” I stood on my toes, so we were eye to eye. “I love you, Dylan.” I kissed him and gave his ass one more, maybe last, squeeze.

  “I love you too, Bron. Enjoy your walk and message me when you get home.” He kissed my hands.

  I gave him a wave, then set off down the road - hoping to hell that nobody had seen my early morning walk of shame return to the bunkie.

  Eighteen

  Dylan

  The vintage Ferrari was already parked outside the marina. He had beat me there.

  “Shit.” The gravel crunched under my work boots as I approached the door. “Were you waiting, long sir?”

  Mr. Yates turned to look at me with absolutely no expression on his face. “No. Just a couple of minutes.”

  “Let me open up and turn off the alarm. Wait here one second.” My heart was hammering against my ribcage – harder than it did after any hockey drills. While Bronwyn’s dad wasn’t exactly rude, he wasn’t warm and fuzzy either. My fingers shook as I punched in the code for the alarm. Before I returned to the door, I took a deep breath. So many things were riding on this meeting. My life could take a dramatic turn, for the better or worse.

  The metal door clanged as I opened it for Mr. Yates. “Come on in.” It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and he was dressed impeccably. His top sider loafers didn’t make a sound on the concrete as he followed me to the almost completed boat.

  He ran his finger down the gunwale and asked me a few questions about the engine. “Do you want to see it? I’ve got it out back, it just needs to be cleaned up.”

  “I know that engine.” He smiled. “And I know that Floyd’s the best mechanic in the state.”

  For the first time, it seemed as though the smile on Mr. Yates’ face was genuine. He studied every inch of the boat, stepping back every so often to look at her from further away. “You are a talented man. Mr. Moss. Where did you learn how to do this?”

  The last meeting had been all business and the pleasantry caught me off guard. “M-m-my Dad,” I stammered. I cleared my throat, “My father. He was a boat builder for the Watchrye Company.”

  Mr. Yates nodded and seemed to be listening but didn’t take his eyes off the boat. “That’s a great company.” He did one more lap around the boat. “I usually wouldn’t buy a boat without seeing her in the water, but I’m going to go with my gut on this one. Knowing that your father built for Watchrye, you’ve just sealed the deal.”

  “Sir?”

  Mr. Yates pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  The chuckle was light and not condescending. “It’s a bank draft.”

  I unfolded the piece of paper and dropped it when I saw the number printed on it.

  Eighty thousand dollars.

  “Don’t lose that.” He stepped on the corner of the paper with his shoe, and I reached to pick it up. “When will you be able to finish the boat?”

  My hands were shaking, but I tried to play it cool and folded the draft, then stuffed it in the pocket of my mechanic’s shirt. “As soon as Floyd has some time to help me with the engine.”

  The displeasure was obvious on his face, and he folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve got eighty thousand dollars in your pocket there, son. You’ll get the last ten when it’s completed – but I’d appreciate an actual date.”

  “Right.” It was nearing the end of August. After Labor Day and before Thanksgiving, the pace at the marina slowed down a little. I met Mr. Yates’ steely stare and knew that I had to pick a date and make that date work.

  “October first.” My voice sounded a lot more confident out loud than it did in my head.

  Mr. Yates gave a nod. “That works for me, but I know how things work here in Laketown. You people don’t have the same sense of urgency and respect for deadlines as the rest of the world.”

  It wasn’t a new sentiment; things did happen at a slower pace in Laketown – it was a running joke that there was a separate time when you were in Laketown. There was ‘regular’ time, and then the slower version, the ‘it will happen when it happens’ Laketown time.

  “October first. She’ll be delivered to your dock.” I extended my hand. He raised his eyebrow and then shook it.

  “October first it is. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  While I was trying to get the nerve up to say what I had to say, he stopped and turned. “Do you know my daughter, Bronwyn Yates? I believe she’s used the water taxi service here.”

  Oh fuck. It was now or never.

  “I do know her. Your daughter.”

  Mr. Yates put his hands on his hips. “Have you two spent any time together this summer?”

  Things were getting weird. Could this have anything to do with Bronwyn’s weird question about money the night before?

  “ActuaIly, Mr. Yates. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He crossed his arms and met me with a narrowed gaze. “And what might that be?”

  This was a lot harder than I had imagined in my rehearsal. “I’ve known your daughter for a few years now. And in that time we’ve gotten…”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to find the right words. This was the man’s daughter.

  “You’ve gotten what?”

  I gulped. “Close.”

  “I see.” His eyes looked so cold as if he could turn the marina into an icebox.

  I shivered but squared my shoulders and met his icy eyes. “I want to ask your permission.”

  “My permission?” His eyebrows rose so high they almost met his salt and pepper hairline. “For what?”

  “Mr. Yates, I’ve fallen in love with your daughter, and I would like your permission to date her.”

  You could’ve heard the tiniest engine part drop in the silence of the workshop. Mr. Yates’ laugh broke that silence. “You. The mechanic. Want permission to ‘date’ my daughter?” He said it like it was a dirty word.

  “Court?”

  “Court my daughter? I don’t think you have an understanding of what that means.”

  I was lost for words. “Mr. Yates, I love your daughter.”

  “Correction.” He took a step toward me with his hands balled in a fist and I waited for the punch to the face. I tried not to wince as I saw the fist coming toward my face, but instead of the sting of a punch to the cheekbone, Mr. Yates plucked the bank draft from my pocket.

  “No deal.” He tucked the draft into his pocket.

  He hadn’t physically hit me, but I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “Sir?”

  I had to fight for her. I jogged to him and grabbed his arm. He ripped it from my grip like my hand was made of flames. “Don’t you ever touch me. And don’t you ever….” He shook his finger in my face. “Touch my daughter, ever again.”

  Nineteen

  Bronwyn

  Do pregnant women sweat more than regular women? I wiped my brow as I reached the estate. Luckily, I hadn’t run into anyone and was able to slip into my bunkie undetected. I peeled out of my clothes from the night before and into one of my Italian one-piece bathing suits and silk cover-up.