Page 56 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

e about my screwed-up priorities.”

“Which they are.”

“See? You’ve already made progress.”

“Molly’s sharp. She won’t buy that for a minute.” She didn’t add that Molly had already started asking Annabelle probing questions about how she and Heath were getting along.

“You can handle whatever she throws at you. And do you know why, Ace? Because you’re not afraid of a challenge. Because you, my friend, live for challenges, the tougher the better.”

“That’s me, all right. A real shark.”

“Now you’re talking.” They flew past a sign pointing toward the town of Wind Lake. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“The campground’s on the other end of the lake.”

“Let me see.”

As he reached for the crumpled page of directions lying in her lap, his thumb brushed the inside of her thigh, and she got goose bumps. She distracted herself with a little passive aggression. “I’m surprised this is your first trip to the campground. Kevin and Molly come up here all the time. I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you.”

“I never said I hadn’t been invited.” He glanced from the directions to a road marker. “Kevin’s a solid guy. He doesn’t need the same amount of hand holding my younger clients do.”

“You’re weaseling. Kevin’s never invited you up here, and do you know why? Because nobody can relax around you.”

“Exactly what you’re trying to change.” A green-and-white sign with gilt-edged letters came into view on their left.

WIND LAKE COTTAGES

BED AND BREAKFAST

ESTABLISHED 1894

She turned into a narrow lane that tunneled through a dense stand of trees. “I know this might be hard to process, but I think you should be honest. Everybody knows you and Phoebe are at loggerheads, so why don’t you just admit that you saw an opportunity to improve your relationship and took advantage of it?”

“And put Phoebe on guard? I don’t think so.”

“I’m guessing she already will be.”

Another lazy smile. “Not if I play my cards right.”

Fresh gravel pinged against the undercarriage of the car, and a few minutes later, the campground came into sight. She took in the shady commons, where a group of kids were playing softball. Gingerbread cottages with tiny eaves that dripped wooden lace surrounded the grassy rectangle. Each house looked as though it had been painted with brushes dipped in sherbet cartons: one lime green with root beer and cantaloupe trim, another raspberry with touches of lemon and almond. Through the trees she glimpsed a slice of sandy beach and the bright blue water of Wind Lake.

“No wonder Kevin likes it here so much,” Heath said.

“It’s exactly like Nightingale Woods in Molly’s Daphne books. I’m so glad she talked Kevin out of selling it.” The campground had been in Kevin’s family since his great-grandfather, an itinerant Methodist minister, had founded it for summer religious revivals. Eventually, it had passed to Kevin’s father, then Kevin’s aunt, and finally to Kevin.

“The upkeep on the place is unbelievable,” Heath said. “I’ve always wondered why he kept it.”

“Now you know.”

“Now I know.” He slipped off his sunglasses. “I miss not being outdoors more. I grew up banging around in the woods.”

“Huntin’ and trappin’?”

“Not too much. I never got into killing things.”

“Preferring slow torture.”

“You know me so well.”

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