Page 64 of Amnesia

We kissed until my lungs burned and spots swam before my closed eyes. I ripped away, only because I had to. The sound of our ragged breathing was proof passion burned between us.

“Good Lord, woman,” I drawled. “You can kiss me anytime.”

She giggled, but I knew she was pleased with herself.

The front of my cabin was pretty boring, all wood and windows and not much else. All the stuff to look at was around to the “back,” which was really the front. Houses that faced the lake always looked plainest on the side that faced the road.

The front of my place had a small porch with just enough room for chairs to sit and watch the water. There was a screen door because there wasn’t anything quite like a lakeshore breeze. The inside was pretty barebones because I really was working on fixing it up.

“This is beautiful,” Am murmured, running a hand along one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

“Woodworking is kind of a hobby,” I said.

“You built these cabinets?” she asked, her eyes swinging to mine.

I nodded. “I like to work with my hands.”

Her cheeks pinked, a color that looked very good on her. “The kitchen is gorgeous.”

“I’ve done most of the work in here,” I explained. “And the bathroom, my bedroom. I’m just now getting to the other rooms.”

It was a simple house with a kitchen, a living room, and fireplace. There were only two bedrooms, likely the reason this place stopped renting out and sort of fell in disrepair. Most people wanted larger houses to vacation in because most families were big. But I was just me, and this place was the right price and on the water.

Eventually, I could build onto it if I ever needed more space. The land was the most valuable thing here anyway.

She didn’t go down the hallway or ask about my bedroom, and I didn’t bring it up. Her standing in my bedroom would test my patience anyway. Hell, just having her wander through my house, seeing her here, watching her admire all the work I’d put into the remodel was enough to do that.

She belonged here. With me. This wasn’t just my house. It was ours.

I wanted to tell her that, but I held back.

“Thank you for showing me,” she said, moving to the door, gazing out.

Reaching around her, I pushed open the screen and motioned for her to go outside. On the porch, she turned toward the water, gazing out.

“What’s that over there?” she asked, pointing toward the island.

“Rumor Island,” I answered. “It’s a private island about a mile or so from shore.”

“Someone lives there?” she asked.

“Yeah, a reclusive woman.”

She turned to me. “Why’s it called Rumor Island?”

I smiled. “Why else? There’s lots of rumors about it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Tell me.”

“How about I tell you over dinner?” I suggested.

Her stomach growled. “I could eat.”

I laughed. “Clearly.”

“Maples?” she asked, naming off the place on Main Street she knew. I always brought her burgers and salads from there when she was in the hospital.

I tilted my head, considering. “How about Lobster Shack?”

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