“I have had the pleasure.” I thrust the shirt at Dylan again. “You have my purse.”

  Dylan took the shirt and put his hand to his chest. “I didn’t realize...”

  Floyd hacked out a laugh. “I thought it was your new look.”

  Dylan cast a glare at the man, shrugged the purse over his head, and tossed it at me. I wasn’t ready and it bounced off my fingertips and fell to the floor.

  “Dylan.” Floyd sounded exasperated.

  “Catch much?” Dylan gave me the smile that used to make my heart flutter.

  “It’s alright, Mr. Winkman.” I scooped the bag up from the floor, brushed it off, and glared at Dylan.

  “Floyd?” A woman with hair just as white as Floyd’s peeked into the office. “There’s a call I think you should take.”

  Floyd nodded. “Thanks, Thelma. Miss Yates, I have to take this call. You wait right here.” He patted one of the leather chairs. “I’ll have someone from the marina give you and your friend a ride home. Calliope isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

  My heart sank, but I nodded. My feet were throbbing as I eased myself into the chair.

  “Are you okay?” Dylan asked.

  I smoothed the skirt over my legs and tried not to shiver. “I’m fine.”

  “You look like an eighty-year-old woman with hemorrhoids.”

  “Fuck off, Dylan.” It was my turn to throw my purse. But damn him and his lightning-fast reflexes. He caught it before it hit his face.

  He tilted his head and handed the purse back. “Seriously, Bron. Are you alright?” He took a seat in the chair next to me. I shifted away from him, knowing what close proximity to his scent did to my body.

  “I said. I’m fine.” I crossed my arms across my chest.

  Dylan reclined in the chair, kicked one foot in front of him, and laced his fingers behind his head. “You might be fine. But you certainly did a number on Calliope.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Is it bad? I thought she just broke down.”

  “It’s hard to say yet. Floyd’s the expert on those engines, but from what I saw, she might require a complete rebuild.”

  “A. Complete….” My voice faded.

  “Rebuild.” Dylan finished.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  He furrowed his brow. “What does it matter to you?”

  I couldn’t get into the details with Dylan. The only heir to the Yates fortune was an unmarried, uneducated, embarrassment to the Yates name. Now that embarrassment had just killed Calliope. How could I explain that to him? He’d never understand.

  I leaned over the arm of the chair to swing the office door closed. “Dylan. I need you to help me.”

  He didn’t look at me, but I could see his eyebrows rise. He maintained his leisure-like posture and I wondered if he was enjoying my neediness. “Help you? Like more help than rescuing you and your friend from dehydration and heatstroke?”

  I needed to speak his language. “Have you ever been in trouble with your parents?”

  His hands dropped from behind his head, and I realized the terrible mistake I had made. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

  His head hung, but only momentarily. “You forgot that my parents are dead.”

  I rested my hand on his, but when I went to squeeze it, he pulled away. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  The door swung open, and Floyd stepped into the office. “Miss Yates.” He had a clipboard with him and flipped a few pages. “Your house manager. Is that who I should call with details about the boat repair?”

  “No.” I practically shot out of the chair. “She’s off for a little bit.” I lied. “Can you call me? I’ll relay the information to my parents.”

  Floyd scribbled a note on the paper and took down my phone number. “I’ll have more details tomorrow.”

  He looked past me. “The water taxi is all fueled up. Can you take Miss Yates and her friend home?”

  I couldn’t see Dylan, but I could hear the growl in his voice. “Isn’t that Sam’s job?”

  “We’ve got a fuel shipment coming in that he’s helping with that. Keys are in the boat.” Floyd’s no-nonsense approach was refreshing, but I wasn’t looking forward to yet another boat ride with Dylan.

  Floyd sat at his desk. “I said the keys are in the boat.” He didn’t look up from his paperwork.

  “Your chariot awaits.” Dylan gave his boss a side glance and opened the door for me, gesturing like a clown.

  “Smarten up, Dylan,” Floyd rasped. I tried to keep the smile from spreading across my face as I walked away, but sometimes it had a mind of its own.

  “What are you grinning at?” Tess asked. She was sitting on the end of a dock, her feet crossed over the side of a wakeboard boat.

  “Nothing. We’ve got a ride home.”

  Tess stood. “I was hoping that the owner of this boat would give us a ride home.” She pointed at the name on the back of the boat. It wasn’t a name, just a number. And, you didn’t have to be a hockey fan to know that number 74 was Jake McManus’ retired number.

  Tess was either a really good friend or a really bad one. Was she hoping that Jake McManus would show up for her or me?

  I felt a surge of nausea and realized it didn’t matter. “Our ride is over there.” I pointed to the water taxi dock where Dylan had already started up one of the boats.

  “Pity,” Tess pouted.

  Dylan helped both Tess and me into the water taxi and handed us two Lake Casper windbreaker jackets to wear. Dylan knew how to get to my cottage. He’d shown up several nights over the last couple of years by water but had to get directions from Tess to hers.

  Tess protested about being dropped off first. “I was hoping to see the decorating changes you’ve done to your bunkie.” Tess waited for Dylan to help her out of the boat onto her dock then she gave me a sly smile. “I guess the mechanic will be the first one to see your new place.”

  I wondered if it was the pregnancy hormones, or if Tess had always been a terrible person.

  “The renovations aren’t done yet,” I muttered. “You’ll be the first to see the bunkie when it’s done.” I shot her a weary smile, and she blew me back a kiss. I had effectively killed two birds with one stone. I’d placated Tess and ensured Dylan wouldn’t expect an invite upstairs.

  Four

  Dylan

  Bronwyn had grown up around boats and it showed. Even though we had taken the crappy water taxi, she took off her ridiculous high-heeled sandals for the ride. After we got rid of her friend, who I was convinced was either dumb or evil, I wanted to ask her the question that had been on my mind for the past few months – but I was waiting for the right time.

  She held onto her hair as I ran the water taxi at top speed down the middle of Lake Casper. The Yates family compound loomed large at the north end of the lake. It was built in the era when cottages blended into their surroundings, and in old photos, it had been painted the same color green as the trees. Today, it was a light yellow and its bronze cupolas could be seen for miles.

  As I reversed the engine to sidle perfectly at the end of her dock, she leaped out of the boat like a cat.

  “Bron…” I had been trying so hard not to call her by her nickname. Shit. “Wyn,” I added quickly.

  “Did all the pucks to the head give you a stutter?” she asked.

  I didn’t blame her. I had been an immature jerk, and she was giving it back to me.

  “Ha. Ha.” I drew out the words and waited for her to walk away. She took off her sunglasses and slowly folded their arms. It seemed like she was lingering, waiting for something. “What? Do you need to be carried to your fancy bunkhouse?”

  She bit her lip and her dress flared as she spun and walked away. I rolled my eyes. The woman couldn’t walk down a dock without putting on her ridiculous model strut. She threw her arm in the air and yelled. “Byeeeee Dylan.”

  “Wait,” I shouted. The dress flared again, but this time a breeze caught it from below and the entire skirt blew up in front of her face, giving me the perfect view of her lacy panties. She battled with her dress and managed to hold it in her fists at her thighs.

  I shifted in the seat, the millisecond view of her panties, pink ones that didn’t match her dress had gotten me hard.

  “What?” Her voice had an edge to it.

  Why didn’t you call? Did you not get the text messages I sent? What about that voicemail where I told you I couldn’t wait to see you? “Your purse.”

  I snatched it from the seat beside me and tossed it to her. This time she caught it.

  What was I thinking? She had already proven herself to be incapable of catching anything, and if she didn’t already hate me, which I think she did, tossing her purse into the lake would’ve ensured me a spot on her shit list.

  “Unbelievable.” She put her purse strap over her shoulder. “I don’t know what your problem is Dylan, but…” her voice faded.

  “But what?” Our wake had caught up to us and I gripped the dock boards with my fingers as the boat rolled, bumping into the dock.

  My eyes were glued to hers and hers to mine. I questioned whose were angrier looking, hoping that the answer was mine.

  She gave me a dismissive wave. “Just go.”

  She was much meaner. I wasn’t ready to go. “I was leaving. You don’t get to tell me when to come or go.”

  “Go then.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  She didn’t move and neither did I.

  What was she doing? My cock was hard and pressing against my damp jeans. Her steely gaze did the opposite of what it should do. It made me want her. Without thinking, I launched myself from the boat and my work boots thudded on the wooden pier. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. I felt her sharp exhale on my neck from the force of our chests colliding. And then I kissed her.

  And she kissed me back.

  Five

  Bronwyn

  The wind whipped, causing my skirt to threaten another Marilyn Monroe moment. “You need to leave.” I pushed Dylan away with my hands, even though I wanted to press every inch of my body against every inch of his.

  Dylan’s eyes were pools of stormy blue when I stepped away from him.

  “Why have you been avoiding me?” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

  I opened my mouth to respond but didn’t have an answer. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t want to tell him the truth either. “It’s a mistake. We can’t keep doing this.”

  He stepped toward me, but I took a step back and the fight disappeared from his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered and turned away.

  My mind screamed, Dylan, don’t go, but my body did nothing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He jumped into the boat. “Yeah. Me too.”

  The outboard engine started in a puff of smoke and Dylan hammered down the throttle, leaving me behind in a cloud of engine smoke and waves banging against the pier.

  I managed to keep the tears at bay until the water taxi disappeared behind Danger Island. I touched my fingertips to my lips which still felt like they were buzzing with electricity. For something so bad, kissing him felt so damn good.

  I used to think people were full of it when they said someone’s touch made them melt, but that day, when Dylan’s hands grabbed my hips, I could’ve dripped through the slats in the dock and all that would’ve been left was a pool of my red silk dress on the wooden planks.

  The sound of a car approaching made my breath catch in my throat. I was supposed to be alone this weekend. If my parents had seen Dylan Moss kissing me, my inheritance was as good as gone. And it was all that I had.

  I swiped angrily at the tears on my face, but more just took their place. Damn hormones. I thought to myself and made my way to my bunkie. As I passed the main cottage, I remembered that my parents had taken the helicopter when they left.

  As if their spidey senses warned them that their daughter was kissing a townie, the sound of a helicopter echoed across the water. I groaned and picked up the pace, bypassing the main cottage.

  The screen door slammed behind me as I made it to the refuge of my bunkie. I flopped onto the couch and tried to forget the feel of Dylan's lips on mine.

  What was I going to do?

  Spending all this time at the family cottage was supposed to give me clarity, but it only made me more confused. If this were the 1960s, my parents would've shipped me off somewhere far, far away to give birth. But it wasn’t the sixties and even though they were upset with me for getting pregnant, they were happy that the Yates family line would continue.

  The hunger pangs couldn’t be ignored any longer. I had thrown up the only thing I had eaten that day and while I was used to going hungry, I wasn’t going to subject my baby to that feeling. I rested my hand on my belly and pulled myself to a seated position. Dylan was right, I was moving like an old lady.

  I padded to the fridge to see if my housekeeper had left any meals for me. Everyone in the family had a personal housekeeper, and my friends joked that I had my nanny. My housekeeper, Lisa was a kid from Laketown High. My parents had wanted to hire someone more experienced, but I liked the fact that she was young and needed the opportunity.

  The big tip I left her every week ensured that my fridge was fully stocked, and it was always in the back of my mind that Lisa could easily spread my news all through the town, but I trusted her. I shuffled the glass containers around on the shelves, praying for something cheesy and crunchy to appear, fully knowing that cheesy and crunchy were not on the list of approved meals.

  "Dammit." I slammed the fridge door so hard the condiments rattled inside. My stomach growled again, and it wasn’t a want, it was a need - my first pregnancy craving. It wasn't one of those weird pregnancy cravings. No, I just wanted a pizza, a pizza with pepperoni and cheese and a thick crust and lots of sauce. Nothing fancy, no thin crust, no gluten-free, I wanted the real deal, and I wanted it yesterday.

  I texted Lisa and asked her advice on where to order a pizza. While I waited for her response, I slipped out of my lace panties and rubbed at the mark on my hips where the thin waistband had been cutting into my sides.

  My phone buzzed and I smiled. Another pro for hiring a young person - she texted back almost instantly. The news wasn’t good though, there was only one pizza parlor in town and, they didn’t deliver on Tuesday.

  If I wanted pizza, I was either going to have to make it or go into Laketown.

  My phone chimed with another text. Lisa was offering to bring the pizza to me. As much as I wanted to bite into cheese and bread, I couldn’t ask her to rush out on her day off.

  I wasn’t my parents.

  I replied to Lisa and told her not to put on her delivery hat, then slipped into a pair of ballet flats, grabbed my purse, and headed to the carriage house. I felt like a kid sneaking out to see her boyfriend in the middle of the night.

  “Bron. Honey.”

  I froze and turned. “

  Hi, Mom.”

  She was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. If she could’ve moved her face, her brows would’ve furrowed. My mom had enough stuff injected into her to ensure that no emotion would ever show on her face again.

  “Are you going somewhere?” she asked.

  “I’m heading into town.” I didn’t want to lie to my mom.

  Her gaze traveled up and down my body. “I thought that we talked about this.”

  I sighed. “I can’t hide here forever.”

  “Hide. Here?” she spread her arms wide. “You have everything you need here.”

  Not pizza.

  I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress. “I’m not showing yet. I thought it was okay to be seen until, you know…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. The baby is showing.

  “The publicist is working on it, Bronwyn. The estate planners and lawyers all have red tape to get through. That’s not just any baby in there. That’s the only heir to our fortune. That baby is going to be the richest child in the state, and we don’t even know who the father is.

  “We do know,” I whispered.

  “No. It isn’t confirmed who the father is until the testing is done.”

  The conversation was getting old. If Dylan wasn’t the father, then the baby was a true miracle – Dylan was the only man I’d been with for the past two years. But my parents couldn’t handle the idea of a Laketownie being the father of their heir. If I had siblings, I’m pretty sure I would’ve been disowned, but since I was an only child, they had to figure out how they wanted to deal with this situation.

  “I’m not a prisoner here. If I want to go to town to get a pizza, I’ll go to town.” It was childish, and I almost felt like stomping my foot but didn’t.

  “Pizza. Dear.” The disapproval was palpable. “Your figure.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Mom. My modeling career is over. You said it yourself.”

  Redness crept up my mom’s neck and her shoulders slumped. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry. I’m sure someone will hire you after…” she pointed to my stomach. Classic Joan, an apology wrapped in an insult.

  I heard my father’s voice echo in the foyer. “Who’s there, Joanie?”

  “It’s Bron.” My mom pulled me inside the cottage. “Don’t upset your father.”

  I didn’t know what she meant. Don’t upset him how? By going to get a pizza. That seemed to be the worst thing in the world at the moment.

  “Bron.” My dad grinned and pulled me in for a hug. “Want a drink?”

  Of course, it was four o’clock in the afternoon, my dad would have a two-finger pour of scotch, straight up waiting for him.

  “Peter.” My mom smacked him on the front of his polo shirt.

  The smile disappeared from his face. “Right. Sorry, Bron. I forgot. Come, sit on the veranda with us and have a soda water or…”