Page 70 of Make Me Dream of You

Wood claps his hands, smiling. He’s wearing swim trunks and a white T-shirt, his blond hair poking out of a backward baseball cap. “Well, now that you’re no longer missing. It’s time to start packing up so we can hit the road. I got snacks!”

Wood’s family lake house is on the south side of Lake Chelan. Noah and I ride with Wood while Bex and Macy follow behind with Spencer and his brother.

It’s a three-hour drive on twisting highways along riverways surrounded by thickening forests and misty mountains in the distance.

Wood sings his heart out the whole drive.

We turn off the main highway to a dirt road hidden past a moss-covered pine tree. It winds through trees so tall and dense the sun can barely poke through the canopy.

Then the trees clear and Wood turns onto a large, circular paved drive and up to the house. I guess I was expecting a smallish cabin tucked away somewhere. Not this.

It’s a three-story mansion with giant stone steps, a wraparound porch, arched windows, and large eaves. The east side is dripping with purple wisteria, and the cedar shingles are grayed and weathered, adding texture and character.

We hop out of Wood’s black SUV. It’s humid and warm, the cloud cover threatening rain. Noah carries my bag as well as his own and we walk up the stone walkway lined with white hydrangea bushes to the house.

Noah holds the door for me as I step inside the wide, tiled entry with an elegant staircase with carved wooden spindles. A family portrait with a young Wood, even more blond and tan than now, hangs on the wall.

“Make yourself at home,” Wood says as he passes with the cooler. I follow him to the kitchen where he starts unloading beers into the fridge. “The bedroom down that hall is my parents’ but you can choose from any of the other seven rooms.”

“Seven?”

He nods, popping open a bottle. “You get first pick ‘cause you’re the coolest.”

I barely have time to marvel at the crisp white kitchen with a marble island large enough to sleep four before I look out past the family room. The entire back of the house is a wall of windows, and the view is spectacular.

Eagerly, I go to the glass. Past the expansive wood deck are steps down to a sandy beach with a massive fire pit surrounded by Adirondack chairs and a private dock jutting out into the lake. The water is sapphire blue and smooth, stretching to the horizon. We appear to be tucked into a little cove of the lake, surrounded by woods and mountains without another house in sight.

“Hey.” Noah’s voice catches me off guard, and I almost yelp at his sudden presence by my side. “The best view is from one of the bedrooms on the third floor. Come up with me.”

He directs me to go up first, following closely behind, one tattooed hand on the railing, the other softly at my back.

“That one,” he says when we reach the landing.

The room is large and bright with white walls, buttery wood floors and a plush, ornate rug. In the center there’s a four-poster bed with a fluffy cream duvet and a light blue quilt. The ceiling slopes down toward the floor on one side with a dormer of arched windows across from the bed. The view stretches for miles, the clouds starting to break to show bright blue sky and streaks of sunlight hitting the trees and sparkling on the lake.

“This is beautiful,” I say.

Noah is next to me. He looks out of place in this pretty room—dressed all in black, skin covered in ink.

“You take this room. I’ll stay in the one next door.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I nudge his arm with my elbow. But I don’t step away after. I let it linger there, our arms brushing. He doesn’t move away to break the contact either.

I want this. I want him. I’ve wanted him for so long, and it always seemed impossible, a little girl’s stupid dream. But not now. He’s here and he’s real and he’s looking at me like he wants me, too.

And I try not to think about how last night we were in the same bed. Or how I dreamt about him all night. About us doing more than sleeping in that bed.

His gaze drops to my mouth for a second. Instinctually, I arch toward him.

For an instant, I think he’s going to lean in, too.

“I’ll go get our bags,” he says as he steps back and turns to leave.

After taking in the view for a few more minutes, I head back downstairs, too, right as the others are pulling up to the house in Spencer’s fancy car. Spencer steps out in Dockers and a Polo shirt, Rayban sunglasses on his head.

Macy gets out of the car in a yellow sundress, followed closely by Bex, her blonde hair flowing in the breeze. She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts and a loose tank top, her red string bikini showing underneath. “I need to pee and then a margarita, stat.”

Spencer squints up at the house. “My parents’ place is much nicer than this. It’s not too late to go back. We can drink champagne while we have the perfect view of the fireworks over Puget Sound.”

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