907 For Keeps Way (Cherry Falls)

“What?”

Her voice is so loud—such a shriek—that I pull the phone away from my ear.

“Good grief, Anna. You just burst my eardrum.”

“Mom. Why are you meeting the hottest man in the whole world at the marina? And why didn’t you tell me? Or bring me with you?”

“You are fifteen years old, little girl.”

“You had Patrick Swayze posters on your bedroom wall at my age, thank you. I’ve seen pictures.” She scoffs. “I can’t help it that the heartthrob of my generation lives in Cherry Falls and my mother is going to meet him.” She squeals again. “Why? Are you dating him? Tell me.”

Her excitement draws a smile.

This is the first time that Anna and I have had a conversation without arguing since her dad left us. I haven’t been sure if the reason behind her disdain for me or quarrelsome attitude has been the trauma of her parents’ divorce or if it’s her age. Haley says it’s the latter. Regardless, having Anna show some happiness around me—to me—is different, and I’ll take it. Even if her ideas are misplaced.

Dane McDaniels isn’t going to date me. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old divorcee—blessed with a smart-mouthed teenage daughter. I spend all of my time making pizzas if for no other reason than to prove to my now ex-husband that it wasn’t a terrible business venture. That’s excluding the pounds I’ve gained over the years or the fact that I have no interests other than sleep.

Still, I can’t deny that the fact my daughter would even think something was going on between the hottest man in the whole world and me makes my insides light up.

Silly, silly sweet girl.

“I bought a couple of sessions at Cherry Falls Fitness,” I say smoothly. “He took me on as a pity project because whoever I was supposed to work with was off.”

“He took you on because you’re a hottie.”

I roll my eyes. Despite the gesture, my cheeks ache from smiling. “Stop it.”

“You are. I get so sick of the boys at school singing Anna’s Mom instead of Stacy’s Mom.” She blows through her phone in exasperation.

“I’m sure it’s just to annoy you,” I say as I approach a bright red kayak.

Dane stands on the edge of the dock. One hand is planted on a post as he watches me get closer. It could be a picture out of a magazine. The cover of said magazine at that.

My insides twist as a nervous excitement coupled with a hefty dose of dread fires through my body. I’ll blame it on Anna’s overzealous and unrealistic, assumptions.

“I’m here so I have to go,” I say. “Wear the Nikes. They’ll be fine.”

“Have fun. Get kissed.”

“Oh, Anna.”

Her giggle makes my heart happy.

“Bye, Mom, you little—”

“Bye, Anna.”

I end the call before Dane’s brows arch any higher.

“Sorry,” I say, stopping in front of him. I shove the phone in Haley’s bag. “My daughter was … excitable today.”

“Aren’t all teenage girls?”

“Ha.” I grip my bag—more to steady myself from his smile than anything. “They are usually dramatic and loud and … Anna is chaos with curls.” I laugh. “So, I’ll take her excitement today over the rage this morning.”

“Well, maybe we can bring her next time and tire her out. Then she won’t have the energy to rage.”

“Oh, she’d love that.” I laugh to myself. “So, kayaking. I know nothing.”

“You don’t have to know anything.” He hands me a life jacket. “Put this on.”

I manage to take the yellow accessory from him without our fingers touching. I’m not sure if I’m more grateful or disappointed by the lack of contact.

He slips on a vest identical to mine. I’m not sure what to do with my bag, so I snap the life jacket on top of it.

Works for me.

When I look up, Dane is watching me carefully. His eyes are so bright, so blue, that they catch me off guard.

He’s so freaking handsome.

He offers me a hand.

I place my palm in his before I can overthink it.

It’s probably not a good idea to get on the water with someone who’s pure electricity, but there’s no way I’m breaking contact. His hand is large and warm as he gently urges me into the kayak. Fire shoots through my veins so sharply that it throws me off-kilter for a quick moment.

“Whoa,” I say as the vessel rocks under my feet.

“Go slowly. Get acclimated.”

“Sure.”

“Sit in the front seat, please.”

I manage to get situated before Dane climbs in and sits behind me. A paddle lays near my feet, so I pick it up. He unties us from the doc, and suddenly, we start to drift away.

“All right, I want you to put your paddle in the water and drag it like this,” he says.

I turn around as best as I can and watch him demonstrate the proper movement. It would behoove me to pay attention to the stroke and not to the visions that the word stroke conjures in my mind. Nor does it really do me any good to focus on the way his muscles, lightly dusted with sweat, ripple under the sunlight.