Free The Way Home by Cindy Gerard

wanted to indulge in it. So when he handed her the wine and then opened the door for her, she walked outside ahead of him.
    Dusk had fallen softly over the lake. Lights glowed from cabin windows. The distant sound of laughter and the smells of a dozen different dinners mingled with the scent of pine and the soothing sound of water slapping gently against the shore.
    He eased a hip onto the deck rail and looked out over the water. “Nirvana. A man could get used to this.”
    “Someday, I want a house right on the lake.” She joined him at the rail and followed his gaze. “I’ve lived here most of my life but never directly on the water. Always above the store.”
    “I totally get why you’d want to be on the lake,” Ty agreed, looking from his wine to her. “Colorado is beautiful, but this place gives it a run for its money. It’s so pure and unpopulated. What I don’t understand is where are all the people? The land development? The condos? Why doesn’t everyone in the world know about this place?”
    “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I want it to stay one of the best-kept secrets of all time.”
    “Even though more people means more revenue for you?”
    “Even though. I get by. And I like Kabby the way it is.”
    “You’ll get no argument from me. Thanks for showing me the lake today. I had a really great time.”
    “My pleasure.” She sipped her wine, aware of him watching her. Aware that she felt too aware. Despite the warm summer night, a little shiver eddied through her, setting all of her erogenous zones tingling along with a few warning bells.
    In the far distance on the north shore, the faint beam of a red signal light blinked on and off above the jagged, ink-black tree line. Someone had started a fire in the fire ring down by the shore, and a few people had gathered around. Their laughter blended with the mellow strumming of a guitar and the night sounds of lapping water and the hum of crickets and the steady breathing of the man standing beside her.
    “We still have a bit of unfinished business to deal with, you know.”
    She knew exactly where this was going. Just as she knew that if she’d intended to stop him, she’d have been gone by now, instead of sharing the moonlight and the wine.
    “Unfinished business?” Her voice sounded breathless, and oh, she hadn’t wanted it to.
    “The race? The bet?” He pushed off the rail and moved in closer.
    “I cooked your darn hot dogs.” she said and made him smile.
    “That was the loser’s part of the bet. We never got to the winner’s part. Loser made the fire and cooked. Winner got to pick a prize of their choice.”
    He’d moved in very close beside her now. She could feel the heat from his body. See his chest rise and fall beneath his shirt. Smell the lingering scent of sun and water and the sunscreen she’d insisted he wear.
    “Ah . . . right. I forgot that part.” That, too, was a lie. She figured she already knew what he wanted. Figured she’d probably let him take it.
    “I didn’t forget. Not for a second. I’ve been waiting for the right time to claim it.”
    She let him lift her wineglass out of her hand then and set it with his on the small table between the deck chairs. “I want to kiss you, Jess. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you.”
    He moved in to her then, wrapped his arms around her, and slowly pulled her close.
    And she liked it. “You say the word, I back away. But I ask you to remember something.” He smiled then, that oh-so-easy smile that made everything feel safe and right and so hot she thought she would self-combust. “You did agree to take the bet.”
    “That I did. I absolutely did.”
    When was it, she wondered as he pulled her closer, that she’d stopped reminding herself that she did not want to get involved with another warrior? When was it that wariness had transitioned to anticipation and yearning and obliterated her carefully thought-out arguments to keep a safe