Love on the Lake (Lakeside 2)

“That’s fantastic. You’re hired.” Donna smiles widely. “Can you start this Friday?”

“Absolutely.”

And that’s how I manage to get my third job in Pearl Lake.

It’s only noon, and I still have half a day and nothing constructive to do with it, so I offer to pick up lunch for my brother and whoever else is in the office at Footprint Construction. I’m given a huge list and a bunch of you’re the best messages.

I can’t decide if I want Aaron to be there or not. His frosty demeanor seemed to thaw by the end of the night at the bar. I wouldn’t say he was nice to me, but he wasn’t a complete jerk either. And I still can’t figure out why I care. Maybe because he’s a bit of an enigma. Maybe because he’s ridiculously hot. Or maybe because he looks like a bad boy and he’s got a reputation to match and my most recent ex-boyfriend seemed perfect on paper and was actually a huge, cheating jerk.

I show up just after twelve thirty, laden with bags of food. I’m barely in the door when a familiar voice calls out, “Whoever brought Boones’s apple fritters is going to get a big old sloppy kiss!”

I’m nearly bowled over when Aaron comes barging through the doorway and then stops dead when he sees me. His eyes flare and then dip down to the bag I’m holding between two fingers, mostly because it’s paper and soaked through with grease. And that’s even after the contents have been boxed up.

“Oh, hey, Teagan.” His expression shifts to something like irritation or dismay, and I try to coat my feelings in Teflon so the hurt slides off instead of sticking to me.

“Aaron.” I give him my sweetest smile, all teeth and eye sparkle.

His gaze bounces from my face to the bag and back up again. “Let me give you a hand.”

I tuck the greasy bag behind my back, out of his sight, and pin him with an unimpressed glare. “I see how it is.”

“You see how what is?” He takes one step forward, bringing him into my personal space. I’m not short, but he barely clears the top of the doorway, so it’s not hard for him to look over my shoulder.

“You’re only nice to me when I have something you want.”

I try to brush by him, hoping I’ll run into Dillion, or my brother, or literally anyone other than Aaron. It irks me beyond belief that he dislikes me so much for no apparent reason when he flirts with every other human being in existence.

He mutters something I don’t catch.

I spin to face him, jutting my chin out and tipping my head back so I can meet his storm cloud eyes. “What was that?”

“I was just offering to give you a hand. No need to bite my head off.” One side of his mouth tips up in a lopsided smile. As if he knows how much it bothers me and he enjoys getting this kind of reaction.

“I smell Boones!” Van appears in the doorway at the other end of the room, preventing me from saying anything else.

I turn to face him and hold out the bags of food. “These things should probably come with some kind of heart attack warning.”

He takes the greasy bags from me and pulls me in for a very brief hug. Then tries to run away with the food, but it’s as if a dinner bell went off somewhere, and also as if everyone has turned into some kind of apple-fritter zombie, because several people flood the room, all shouting at Van that he’d better not be sneaking more than his share or he’ll be losing a finger.

Dillion gives Van a quick jab on the outside of his thigh, causing him to lose his hold on the greasy bag. She grabs the fritters before they hit the floor and holds the bag to her chest—which is a colossally bad idea.

“Settle down, you’re freaking Teagan out!” Dillion yells.

That quiets the group.

Van chuckles and mutters, “Boones are a thing around here.” He’s still rubbing the outside of his thigh.

“Aaron, get plates. Dad, get silverware. Uncle John, you’re in charge of napkins. Van, you’re in charge of sitting your ass down. And you get last pick of the fritters, since you were planning to steal one.”

“I was just helping, and Aaron was out here first, and for sure he was going to try to lay claim to the fritters before me.”

“Fine, you and Aaron get last pick. Everyone, sit your ass down and use some freaking table manners so my poor future sister-in-law doesn’t think we’re all backwoods hicks who never learned basic etiquette.”

“She’s making us seem a lot worse than we are,” Dillion’s dad, Jack, says with a wink.

But a minute later everyone is seated at the table, and Dillion helps me unload the bags, calling out sandwich and meal names. They each raise their hand like kindergartners, and no one starts eating, even after everyone has their lunch.