“Yeah. We met at your dad’s place and the three of us drove in together.”
“How was the drive?”
His expression grows pained.
I sigh. “That bad?”
“Oh yeah.”
Now I groan. “What is wrong with him? This was supposed to be a family trip.”
Nick steps forward and reaches for the handle of my suitcase. His scent wafts into my face, a combination of sunscreen and a hint of coconut that might be his shampoo. I love coconut. I order myself not to breathe.
“In his defense, your family bailed,” Nick reminds me as he tosses my suitcase into the backseat with zero effort. His biceps flex enticingly. I order myself to look away.
“Yeah,” I agree, “but he didn’t have to replace them with Michelle. Jeez.”
“But if he hadn’t come up with an alternate solution, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Even better!” I say happily.
“Jerk.”
“Uh-huh, I’m the jerk. You just asked me if I came from a homeless encampment.”
“Look at what you’re wearing!”
“I get cold on planes!” Although, he’s right. It’s blistering hot out and I’m starting to sweat in my long-sleeved shirt.
Gritting my teeth, I undo the buttons and peel the plaid material off my shoulders. I’m left in a yellow crop top that bares my midriff. It’s what I was planning on wearing when I thought Anna was picking me up. I certainly didn’t expect Nick to be there instead. Nick, who wastes no time dropping his sultry gaze to my chest.
“My eyes are up here,” I order.
“Yeah, but your tits are down there.”
Incredulous laughter slides out of my mouth. He’s unreal. Also, since when does he comment on my boobs? I’ve always had these. Now he’s remarking on them?
“Looking good, Poodle,” he drawls.
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Never.” Then he gives me that infuriating grin and hops into the driver’s seat. “Get in already. Don’t want to keep the happy couple waiting.”
3
At the house, Michelle greets me like we’re long-lost friends who haven’t seen each other since the war. The thing about this girl is, she has to know that the members of Danny’s family aren’t her biggest fans, yet she constantly acts like we’re best buddies. She flings her arms around me, her curly hair suffocating my face. She smells like expensive perfume that I’m sure the mosquitoes are going to love. We’ve warned her time and again about not wearing scents out here, and although she’s been to this lake house often, she never takes the advice and always lives to regret it.
“Oh my gosh, Katie, it is so good to see you!”
“Kate,” I correct.
“So formal!” She laughs. “I prefer Katie.”
I offer a big, fake smile. “I prefer Kate.”
The only people who call me Katie are my brother and, less frequently, my dad. My name isn’t even short for Katherine. Mom wanted me to be Kate. Just Kate. To be honest, I kind of love it. Katie sounds like a little kid to me.
And I’m not a kid anymore. My gap year helped me recharge, gave me time to focus on myself and my art, but I’m eager to start freshman year of college. Eager to be on my own, living in a dorm. Not having my mother knock on the door every ten minutes to check in and see how I’m doing. Or Dad waltzing in ordering me to have dinner. The whole point of this gap year was to paint. But whether I was at Mom’s house or Dad’s ranch, I was constantly getting interrupted. They can’t grasp that when I’m in the zone, hours could pass. I don’t feel the hunger, not until I emerge as if from a fugue state and choke down two days’ worth of leftovers. A literal starving artist.
But it didn’t go the way I wanted. My parents are too damn caring and attentive. Those fuckers. Hopefully college allows me more freedom than this past year had.
“I’m so relieved you’re okay with me and Nick filling in for your cousins. I know you and Anna are super close and you wanted a cousins’ weekend. But”—Michelle links her arm through mine—“now it can be a sisters’ weekend.”
Gag. I glance over my shoulder at Nick, who’s lifting my suitcase out of the backseat. He’s grinning at me. He knows I want to smack her.
“Where do you want this?” he asks, holding up my carry-on.
“Oh, in the blue room, please,” I tell him.
“Yes, Poodle,” he says obediently.
Michelle giggles and tightens her hold on me. “Are you ever going to tell me why he calls you that?”
“Nope,” I say.
When we enter the house, I’m immediately overcome with a wave of nostalgia. No matter how many times I come here, it never gets old. I love this place. The main floor consists of a huge open-concept space with impossibly high, chalet-style ceilings. There’s a massive kitchen on one side, and a dining room with a long table that seats twenty. Beyond that is the great room with its enormous wall of windows.
I approach the shiny panes and peer out at the upper deck. The gleaming cedar steps lead to a lower deck with an outdoor eating area, and then another set of stairs takes you to the path leading down to the dock, which is large enough for a handful of lounge chairs and umbrellas. Dozens of yards from the main dock is the floating dock where Anna and I like to tan topless, only covering ourselves up when a boat speeds by.
“Anyway, I’m really glad I’m here and able to spend this time with Danny before he goes away,” Michelle is saying.
“He’s not leaving for another month,” I point out.
“Sure, but every minute counts! I want to squeeze in every last second!” And then squeeze she does, gripping my arm so tight her red nails leave indentations in my skin. She’s not trying to hurt me. Her nails are just that long.
“Where’s Danny?” I ask, peering out the windows again. I don’t see him outside.
“He went upstairs to change. We’re going out on the boat.”
“Oh, are we?”
“Well, we are,” she says. She gives an apologetic look. “It’s sort of a couples thing.”
And so it begins.
“Okay. Well.” I swallow my irritation. “I should go upstairs and change too. Guess I’ll be chilling here alone this morning.”
“Not alone. With Nick!” She pats my arm before darting toward the hall. “Just gonna hit the loo before we go.”
I hate that she says “the loo.” She’s from fucking Utah.
Upstairs, the staircase divides the second floor into two long wings, and I quickly hurry to the left side. Our family’s had this place since I was a baby, so over the years we all inevitably got comfortable in certain rooms. Mine is the blue one with the seashells. Danny’s is the yellow one next door. The one with the traitor inside.
I throw open the door just as he’s sliding a pair of striped trunks up his hairy legs.
“Jesus Christ!” he balks. “Knock, will you?”
“Are you serious right now?” I close the door behind me and advance on him. Arms crossed. Voice lowered. “You promised,” I hiss.