Page 92 of Blindly Yours

“Looks like the bluebells are blooming. I’ll have to take a photo for Kara,” Nate says as he pulls his truck up to a small wood-planked cabin with a green tin roof. Dozens of tiny trumpet-shaped blue flowers line the sidewalk up to the front door. They blow gently in the spring breeze, showing their color against their green foliage.

“Did Amber plant them?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Nate shuts the engine off and goes a little rigid. “Yes.”

I smile and reach for his hand. “They’re beautiful.” I don’t want him to think something like planted flowers will make me uncomfortable. I’m glad something she enjoyed so much still lives on.

Once he returns my smile, I open my door and turn my attention to the cabin. It’s small, but it looks incredibly well-kept. The exterior wood paneling looks newly stained, and the roof is in perfect condition. To our left and right are nothing but tall pines, and there’s not a sound to be heard, save for the birds and skittering squirrels.

“It’s so peaceful here.” I take a deep breath of fresh air.

“That’s what I love about it.” Nate climbs out and then opens the back door for Duke, who leaps onto the gravel and immediately begins sniffing everything in sight. He returned from the trainer’s last week and I fell for his charms much faster than I expected. He’s quite large, and a little intimidating, but only until he gallops over, leans against your leg, and looks up at you with the biggest brown eyes.

“How long have you owned this place?” I climb out and begin gathering my bags from the back.

He scratches his chin. “About four years. It was pretty run down when I bought it. I’ve put a lot of work into it.”

“It looks brand new.” I sling a bag over my shoulder.

Nate laughs and takes the bag right back off, hanging it over his own as he grabs another. “Hardly.” He heads toward the front door. “Duke, come.”

Duke immediately stops sniffing and follows at Nate’s heels. I don’t know how he behaved before, but it’s clear the training worked.

When we step inside, I’m greeted by a simple, cozy setup. The walls have the same stained finish as the outside, and long beams span across the entire ceiling. To the left is a small kitchen and dinette, and beyond it is a wood-burning stove facing a plump sofa and armchair. But what really catches my eye is the huge picture window on the back wall. It follows the vaulted lines of the ceiling, providing the most breathtaking view of Lake Mille Lacs beyond.

“This is gorgeous,” I breathe, drawing closer to the window. Apart from the overhang of a few trees, the view of the lake is completely unobstructed, and it’s so big I have to squint to even make out the opposite shore.

“That window is a new addition. The previous owners had just a few small ones across the back,” Nate says from behind me. “But the view deserved something grander.”

“Absolutely,” I agree, continuing to take it all in. Behind the cabin is a small backyard with a picnic table, fire pit, and a little dock with a metal canoe tipped upside down on the shore.

“This is Kara’s room.” Nate pushes open a door to the right. “But feel free to use it any way you need this weekend.” He pushes open the next door. “Here’s the bathroom.” And the final door. “And here’s my room.”

I follow him inside. The bed takes up almost the entire space, but there’s an antique dresser on one wall, and a window overlooking the lake on the opposite. It’s simple and masculine, but very tidy. There’s a photo of a waterfall above the bed and two small carved wooden wolves on the dresser.

“Your favorite animal. Did you make these?” I pick one of them up and trace my fingers across the grooves on its back.

“I’m impressed you remembered.” Nate chuckles. “But no. I don’t quite have the dexterity for details like that. I bought them from a guy down the street. His whole house is full of his carvings.”

I put the wolf back in place, sit down on his bed, and run my hand across the sage-green comforter. “Are most of your neighbors part-time residents like you?”

He sits down next to me. “It’s about fifty-fifty. There are a few from Minneapolis, St. Cloud, even Duluth.”

“And you know them all? Kind of like at home?”

“Most of them.” He nods. “We keep an eye on each other’s places when we’re not around.”

“I don’t even know my neighbor’s names.” I play with the cuff of my flannel shirt. I made a quick stop at Patagonia the day after Nate invited me here. I figured my Louboutins and pencil skirts wouldn’t make sense at a lakeside cabin, so I bought some flannel and fleece, and also a pair of weatherproof hiking boots.

“The culture’s a little different in the city,” Nate says as he reaches over and touches my shirt. “By the way, I don’t think I told you, but you look gorgeous in flannel. Is this new?”

I smirk. “You think I had this in my closet before you?”

He laughs and tugs on my ponytail. “The look suits you.”

I bite my lip and look up at him. “You’re into it?”

“Sointo it.” He leans in and kisses me, just slow enough that I have to impatiently take the collar of his shirt and pull him closer.

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