He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Where? We can’t get in a car drinking.”
“There’s a trail in the back of the cabin that leads to a lake.” He scooped up the beers and two towels, and headed out the door. The sun stung her skin, but as they made their way back into the cluster of trees, shadows cloaked them from the burn. The musky scent of earth and rotted wood drifted to her nostrils, and she picked her way over the moss and rocks in her flip-flops until the path opened up.
They walked in silence. The birds sang, the trees watched, and the bugs hovered, occasionally landing for a quick bite. Wood snapped under her feet and a strange lightness flooded her body. How could she feel like this when a few hours ago she was in the church, about to marry David? Why did this moment strike her as more real than the past six months? She needed to figure it out, because the answer was the reason she’d run.
Unfortunately, the truth seemed more dangerous than denial right now.
“Here it is.”
The lake was more of a pool that looked as if it emptied at the end of its journey, with a crooked dock that seemed about to fall apart and tall marsh grass surrounding it. Gen stared at it and wondered if the monster alligators would get her like in Lake Placid if she put a toe in. She put her hands on her hips. “You want to try to kill me or something? You couldn’t pay me to go in there.”
He snorted. “Chicken. It’s safe. I caught Sawyer and Julietta out here skinny-dipping. I felt blind for a week.”
She laughed. “I remember catching Nick and Alexa fooling around in my parents’ walk-in closet one visit. I couldn’t even look at them, let alone eat Sunday dinner. Ruined my appetite.”
Wolfe dropped the beer, kicked off his sandals, and walked onto the crumbling dock. “Saratoga Lake is about eight miles long, but narrows down to Fish Creek. We’re at the tail end. Sawyer wanted privacy more than recreation. This is an isolated paradise and you’re complaining. Much better than a fancy chlorinated pool.”
“Speak for yourself, dude,” Gen said.
Wolfe peeled off his T-shirt and revealed perfectly defined pecs and abs of steel. The elaborate serpent tattoo curled like smoke and started at the right side of his belly, moved up his chest, wrapped around the upper arm, and landed just below the ear. She rarely saw him unclothed, unless it was in some designer advertisement, but the breadth and detail of the tat was a living, breathing thing. He kept his wristbands on. Gen knew he never took them off. Ever. She bet he even showered and slept with them, too. At first she’d thought it was some weird fashion thing, but over the years, Gen became used to them, as if they were part of his body. And she still didn’t ask questions.
She remembered the first time she met him, when she was twenty years old. A family dinner at Alexa’s. Max and Michael—husbands of Alexa’s closest friends, Carina and Maggie—had brought Wolfe and introduced him to everyone.
She’d been instantly fascinated. From his ink, to his shaven head, various piercings, and massive muscles, his entire aura sucked out the air in the room and left it silent. He appeared obviously uncomfortable, his mouth turned down in a gorgeous sneer, as if ready to give everyone a big fuck you. But he remained politely still, scanning the crowd, until their gazes met and locked.
A weird connection fired between them. As if they’d met before. Recognized each other. And were being reintroduced.
She had no idea why. Izzy had been the hell-raiser and scoped him out like a hungry she-wolf. Her father frowned and seemed ready for battle. Alexa chattered nonstop and tried to ease the tension, while Maggie, Alexa’s best friend and honorary aunt, spoke proudly of his modeling career and smarts.
Gen walked over, offered her hand, and a smile. “Welcome to the family, Wolfe. I’m Gen.”
He paused. For one long, endless second, she wondered if he’d diss her. Instead, his hand clasped hers, warm and strong and safe. “Nice to meet you.”
All Gen knew about him was that he’d once been homeless, then lived in Milan with Sawyer and Julietta, and now stayed in New York with Max and Carina. He was also attending NYU for business. Since they were both attending the same college, he’d been seated next to her at dinner.
They fell into an easy camaraderie. Somehow, she understood he held secrets so deep and dark they may never come to light. She didn’t care. She sensed on a gut-level instinct he had more honor than most men his age.
After dinner, they’d found themselves alone, talking outside. She’d asked a bunch of questions, wanting to get to know him, but he only gave one-word answers. Tension tightened his frame, and she realized he grew more and more distant. Fragments of the conversation drifted past her memory.
“DON’T YOU LIKE TO talk about yourself?” she asked curiously. This man, who her twin sister pronounced extremely fuckable, seemed so much more than his shaved head, tats, and leather wristbands. Secrets danced in his eyes. She also sensed they were painful. Another reason he didn’t like to talk?
“No,” he answered. “I don’t talk about the past. Just today.”
His answer fascinated her. A deep connection flowed between them, as if they’d met in another life and time and were just now picking up where they left off. “So I won’t ask you any other questions. We’ll just be friends.”
The need and suspicion mingled in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Friends? I bet one day you’ll ask me stuff. Get mad at me for not sharing. Girls do that.”