Page 17 of Story Of My Heart

Eyewitnesses (who prefer to remain anonymous for fear of never being invited to another of Go Jump’s amazing lakeside gatherings) report that the kiss seemed as stiff as the breeze off the lake. “It was all lips and no love,” one partygoer commented, sipping a cocktail with a raised eyebrow. Another onlooker noted, “If kissing were a sport, Tate would surely be benched.”

But it’s not just the kiss that has tongues wagging. Speculation is rife about Tate’s intentions. Is this an attempt to stir up a little excitement for the resort, or is there something more tender brewing beneath that reserved exterior?

In a town that thrives on community and closeness, Tate’s reclusive nature has always been the subject of much gossip. Now, with his return—and the addition of a romantic interest—the speculation has reached a fever pitch. The big question remains: Is this mystery woman here to stay, or is this just another of Tate’s whims?

Stay tuned to Sunset Fake, where we peel back the layers of this intriguing love affair faster than you can say ‘check-in’! Remember, you heard it here first—the good, the bad, and the awkwardly unromantic! Seriously, Tate, raise your game!

“What is it?” Piper peers at me from over her book, her brows knit in concern. Before I point out how ridiculous it is that Sunset Lake, a town of around 20,000 citizens, even has a dedicated gossip blog, I remember the hurt in her eyes on the boat, and how much I don’t ever want to see her look like that again.

“It’s nothing,” I grumble, setting my phone down next to me on the bed. “Some local blog wrote up a whole post about me coming back to Sunset Lake. Imagine not knowing my net worth and still thinking I’m interesting enough to talk about.”

“I’m sure that blog post will age well once you’re on the cover of Time,” she mutters with a yawn, returning her attention to her reading. She only starts to yawn in front of me when she’s absolutely exhausted. Piper hasn’t had a moment of real rest since I barged into her apartment this morning with coffee, and it’s starting to show. Her eyes keep drooping every few pages, and her head is starting to nod. Eventually, the book winds up flat on her chest, and her glasses slip to the end of her nose as she passes out entirely.

Watching her fall asleep has left me feeling just as tired, and I decide that it’s time to salvage what few hours of sleep that I can. I clean up my work as quietly as possible, tiptoeing around as I brush my teeth so as not to wake her. The sofa isn’t very large, and the way she has her neck resting on the arm looks like it’s going to murder her muscles. I tap her on the hand, gently whispering her name, but she’s out cold. With no other real options, I slip my hands underneath her and scoop her up against me, lifting her toward the bed.

She’s so light in my arms that I resolve to start feeding her donuts the second she wakes up in the morning. Her breathing changes slightly once I get her into the air, and I freeze, worried that she’ll wake up and this will all look very weird. Then, she sighs, nuzzling her body into mine, and my heart melts. I could stand here with her in my arms all night, but that feels like a serious ethical breach of our professional boundaries, and I snap out of it, softly rolling her onto the bed. She flings an arm over her pillow, curling into a ball on her side, and I pull the blankets up over her before climbing into bed next to her.

It’s not like this is real, right? Nothing’s going to happen between us in that way. Nothing has changed just because we’re here at the resort and we’re in on a ruse together. Saying things doesn’t make them true. All that stuff she’s been telling me—in the car on the way down here, on the party barge, in this very cabin—are made up. And the things I did, like let my sister think she’s my girlfriend, and dream about taking her in my arms and making her mine, and kissing her underneath that damn wagon bridge…. That’s been all for show.

She doesn’t know how I really feel about her. How what’s fake could become real in the blink of an eye. And I can’t ever tell her. If I did, things could go sideways and I’ll lose the part of her I do possess, no matter how small. It would ruin everything.

The first moment I had thoughts about Piper that strayed toward reckless I decided it couldn’t be any other way.

There’s only one problem. My body. It tightens and aches and reaches toward hers. That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about no matter how many times I tell myself we can’t go there.

Each heartbeat feels like a traitor, throbbing with a silent confession I dare not speak.

“Night,” she mumbles into the pillow, still less-than-conscious.

“Goodnight,” I whisper back before turning off the light.

Then unable to help myself, I press a soft kiss to her forehead.

Chapter Ten

Piper

Sunlight streams in through the window highlighting all the little dust flecks suspended in the air. It takes me a moment to get my bearings and remember where I am and how I got there. I’m not used to waking up somewhere that isn’t my own bed. It must still be very early, judging by the small amount of light, and I stretch, rolling onto my side.

The second thing I see is a man lying next to me. I blink, startled, before realizing it’s Tate. I don’t remember how I got into bed last night, and panicked, I check beneath the blanket, relieved to see that I’m still wearing all of my clothes. I have fuzzy recollections of falling asleep on the sofa. Tate must’ve moved me into bed so I didn’t end up cramped and sore. Looking at his face, I reflect on the fact that I’ve never seen him totally still before. He’s always moving, talking, or writing. Seeing him relaxed and actually resting is such a drastic change. He looks so peaceful here, his features made so much more handsome when they aren’t contorted in thought. I reach out, gently brushing a loose thread from the pillowcase out of his beard. His skin is warm and soft, and he stirs ever so slightly before digging his head deeper into the pillow.

The magic of sleep wears off of me, and I realize what I’m doing, self-consciously drawing my hand back. I need to get up. I need to take a shower. I need to stop acting like any of this is normal or okay. Besides, the second that Tate wakes up, I’m not going to have any time to myself. He’s going to want to immediately get to work. That’s just how he is. When an idea comes to him, he’s like a dog with a new toy. He just has to turn it over and over in his head until it’s worn out, or he is.

I’m less than five minutes into my showering, lathering my shampoo with my eyes screwed shut when I hear a voice. I can’t make out what he’s saying over the water, but the fact that he’s trying to talk to me at all when we just went through this last night is making me see red.

“I’m in the shower!” I call out. I would’ve thought that the sound of the water would be clarification enough, but Tate is incapable of taking a hint. While I’m rinsing my hair clean and getting ready to condition, I hear the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“I know,” Tate responds casually, shutting the door behind him. “And I needed to talk to you. That’s why I’m in here.”

“I’m naked!” I blurt, covering myself with my hands and backing into the corner of the shower. He isn’t looking, exactly, keeping his eyes somewhere around the sink instead. But this is too much.

“You saw me naked.” He leans in toward the mirror, examining his teeth before picking up his toothbrush and rinsing it under the tap. It takes everything in me not to scream.

“You didn’t care that I saw you. I, however, care that you’re seeing me.” I can’t believe that he needs this spelled out for him. At first, I hadn’t believed it when I found out he’d never had a serious girlfriend. Now, I can say that it shows. “Boundaries. Remember? The shower is not your private elevator.”

I pause, waiting to see if he leaves the bathroom of his own accord. Tate instead starts to apply toothpaste to his brush.

“Wait for me in the bedroom, and I’m not kidding!” I bark, taking some solace in the way that he jumps, his toothbrush clattering to the counter before he hightails it back out of the bathroom, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

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