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“So it’s your land now, is it?”
Biting back a smart-ass reply, I plastered a smile on my face. “Freudian slip. Feels like mine,” I admitted.
I refused to notice how sexy the man looked, legs extended, jeans and a light fleece making him very much blend into the lakeside lifestyle, coffee in hand. I’d looked him up on social media. Nothing. But I did know, now, what the Army Ranger uniform looked like since I sort of searched that too yesterday in a moment of weakness.
Could you imagine him in that uniform? Dear god.
“I can appreciate that,” he said. “This must be hard for you.”
Keep smiling. Pretend you don’t hate him.“It is,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. “If you could see some of those kids that come through the program. For a few of them, it’s the only extracurricular thing they’re involved in.”
“If the land is purchased, that doesn’t mean the end to your program. Surely you can find a new spot for it?”
I took a sip of coffee to hide my face. I’d never been good at poker. “By the time I found a spot and got the necessary permits, the season would be over. I usually run three six-week sessions. So the summer and fall kids would be out of luck.”
He couldn’t argue that, and didn’t. Likely no one knew the red tape of something as simple as my program, never mind actually purchasing protected property, like he did.
“I could help you. I’ve got a lot of contacts that are good at that sort of thing.”
Unsure if I wanted to thank him for a surprisingly kind gesture or throw my coffee mug at him for assuming his purchase would go through, I took another sip instead. Then a few deep breaths.
Honey. Remember. Honey.
“I appreciate that. But I guess we’ll see what happens first. No use rocking the boat if it’s not necessary,” I ventured.
“Interesting analogy.” He smiled. “Considering.”
I let myself smile back.
“Would you look at that? A real smile. Glad to know you’re capable.”
“It’s very much like you to ruin an actual decent moment between us.”
His laugh was everything. Deep, like his voice. But oddly cheerful.
“I didn’t think you were actually going to take me up on the temporary truce offer,” he said, laughter still lingering in his voice.
I lifted my mug. “I’m sitting here drinking coffee with you, aren’t I?”
For some reason, though my friends often called me the nice one, I found it hard to keep my cool completely with him. Maybe if he looked like a normal guy and didn’t exude absolute confidence and sex and manly vibes.
“True statement,” he said. “We’re clearly not going to find common ground on the subject ofyourland. How about you tell me how you ended up squatting there in the first place?”
“Ugh, you are incorrigible.”
“I’m kidding,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and turning his attention out onto the lake. Which was good, because for a second there, I swore he looked at me appreciatively. Ridiculous. He was way out of my league—looks-wise, not personality-wise—and I was an absolute fright after that dunk in the lake.
“I meant to say, with the Finger Lakes Land Trust. What’s your backstory, Natalie Hartwell?”
Honey. Remember, honey.
“Nothing extraordinary. I grew up two hours from here. We moved to Kitchi Falls, where my parents had a summer home, when I was fourteen. I’ve always loved the charm and natural beauty of the region, so aside from missing my friends, I was okay with the move. And met some great girls here. I majored in environmental science at Cornell—”
He whistled. “Cornell. Impressive.”
Ignoring the compliment, I forged ahead. “Where I joined the school’s rowing team and fell in love with the sport. After college, I was lucky enough to get a job with FLLT and came back here. End of story.”
“And your personal life? Family?”
