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“I’m just going to deliver these towels to Room 1 and then I’ll meet you outside.”
“No, no, no,” Papa says, stepping forward. “Hand ‘em over. Go with Carter.”
“But Papa?—”
He takes the towels from me. “Go. I’ll make sure these get upstairs.”
I glance at Carter’s handsome smile, tempted. “You’re sure?”
“I mean, I won’t take them up. I’m retired. But I’ll have one of the other girls do it.”
I glare at him as Carter crosses the room and takes hold of my arm. “You know, for a retired guy, you sure do hang out here a lot,” I say.
“Go!” Papa says, shooing me away. “Go. Go. Go.”
I give in, letting Carter spirit me away out the front door.
As we walk around the porch, we say hello to several other couples currently staying at the inn. They wave at us from the patio furniture; the ladies swooning at the way Carter clings to my hand. I feel the familiar daily rush of love for him as he leads me off the porch and onto the path toward the lake.
Hand-in-hand, we walk the clear path lined with lanterns and fairy lights, my smile stretching wide. It’s a warm night with open skies and a bright yellow moon, perfect for the Fourth of July.
We reach the boathouse, passing a few more couples getting in the paddle boats. Carter pushes us past them, however, and we reach the end of the dock where a row boat awaits.
The row boat is a recent addition to our boathouse, but not one usually made available to guests. Carter bought it because it turned out that he and my father had a shared love for fishing. Not my choice of activity for relaxation, but it gave the two of them something to bond over, and that’s just adorable.
Tonight, Carter hops down into it and offers me his hand. “Come on,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
“Please don’t let me fall in the lake,” I warn.
“I won’t let you fall in the lake.”
“Promise?”
He promises with a smile. Slowly and carefully, I ease down into the boat and sit down on the seat. Carter sits across from me and handles the oars, quickly remembering to unleash the boat from the dock before pushing us off.
The lake is calm, the surface only bothered by the movement of the oars. As we drift further away from shore, we pass a paddle boat or two, their occupants pointed toward the shore, waiting for the fireworks to go off from the Small Town center square.
But Carter keeps taking us out. The further we go, the darker it gets, and I flick on the LED lamp hidden away under my seat.
As I think to ask how far out he intends to go, Carter slows us down. Within moments, we stop and the water goes still once again.
I chuckle. “What are we doing all the way out here?” I ask. “
“A better view,” Carter answers. “And some privacy.”
“Oh.” I smirk. “Yes. Privacy.”
He chuckles as he turns and picks up the pack tucked behind his seat. Inside, he withdraws two glass soda bottles and offers me one.
“Aw, score!” I say.
He hands it over with a laugh and pulls a small blanket out of the pack as well. With some careful maneuvering, we roll it out and lie down just as the first bright and colorful BOOM rings out from the center of Small Town.
The firework explodes into a red and blue star shape, the light flashing on the lake and reflecting wildly around us. From a distance, we spot the small twinkles of distant fireworks above Big City and Pleasant Place to the north and another from Littleville to the west.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “Okay. You’re right. This is the best view.”
Carter chuckles, opening his arms to me. I lean in, getting cozy with him. As the second firework explodes in the sky, we tap our soda bottles together and toast to the night.
