Page 8 of Freeing Lark

The universe laughed. Because the moment her foot touched the boat, things shifted. The boat moved. Her balance disappeared. “Wait⁠—”

Too late. She fell forward. The man grabbed for her but missed. Both of them went straight into the water. The splash echoed across the river.

For several seconds, there was only silence. Lark surfaced first, coughing. Her hair covered her face. Her clothes weighed her down. She pushed wet strands away. “Oh my gosh.”

The man surfaced beside her. He looked furious. Not mildly annoyed. Not irritated. Furious. “Are you kidding me?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I didn’t exactly plan that.”

“You think?”

Staving off the tears that were threatening to fall, she bit her lip. “I’m having a really bad day.”

“So am I, apparently.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Because he had a point.

He swam toward the boat, grabbed the side, and helped her climb in first. Despite his irritation, he didn’t leave her struggling. Even with his obvious desire to be anywhere else, he made sure she was safe.

That made her feel slightly less terrible.

Only slightly.

The ride to shore was quiet. She sat dripping in the boat, occasionally sneaking glances at him. He stared straight ahead. Definitely grumpy. Definitely intimidating. Definitely unfairly attractive.

She hated that her brain noticed that last part.

When they reached the town’s dock, he tied off the boat and helped her out.

“I really appreciate this,” she said quickly.

He nodded once. “Next time, tie your boat properly.”

She winced. “Right.”

“Or don’t go to an island alone without a backup plan.”

“Also right.”

“And charge your phone.”

She looked down. “Okay, you can stop now.”

His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. But it disappeared. “Good luck with your bell.” Her eyes widened, surprised that he’d seen her unfinished project.

She looked back at the island in the distance. Then at him. “Thank you. Really.”

He nodded. She started walking away. After a few steps, she glanced back. He was already climbing into his boat. Of course he was. She didn’t even know his name. And honestly? She probably never would. Because people like him belonged in books. Not in her messy, Murphy-ruled life.

She watched until the boat disappeared around the bend. Then she turned toward town, desperate for caffeine and conversation. And no place was better at both than The Flour Power Bakery which her Aunt Marilyn had owned and operated for forty years. Her pace increased as she contemplated the newest brew concocted by her aunt’s latest hire. Completely unaware that the grumpy, bearded lumberjack of a man she’d just met was about to become the biggest complication her life had ever seen.

CHAPTER 3

“Thirty minutes!” The room instantly shifted. The philosophical conversation of earlier gave way to routine. Magazines clicked into pouches. Night vision goggles were checked. Helmets buckled. Weapons loaded, checked, then rechecked. Six men transformed from tired soldiers into professionals.