Lark Lake Lodge

Chapter Eight

Puppies and Mixed Messages

Just as Harlan had predicted, Delia had her puppies around lunchtime the following day. Outside of doing a walk-through with the roofer and signing a quote that churned my stomach and made the window money look like chump change, all of my time over the next few days was spent with Harlan, Miguel, and our new arrivals.

These little mewling balls of pudge and fur became my entire world. The litter was larger than was usual for the breed. Delia and Ralph had ten healthy pups which meant a lot more man hours making sure the little guys were fed. Delia had a tough time producing enough milk for the lot, so we all pitched in on bottle-feeding to supplement.

Much to Harlan’s chagrin, Miguel was constantly shooting photos and videos of the puppies. His intention was to drag his boss out of the ’80s by making a website for potential customers .

“I don’t need a website. My sales are just fine.” Harlan groused one day while we all fed the pups.

“For God’s sake, grandpa. Nobody’s business model is an ad in the newspaper and a landline anymore. People want to see what they’re buying.”

“It’s called word of mouth,”

“Oh my God, please shut your mouth.”

Regardless of Harlan’s protestations, Miguel’s website project went forward. I couldn’t wait to see what he came up with.

While the nurturing of the babies was fulfilling, the best part of the experience was watching Harlan with them. Nothing could possibly be as much of a turn on as seeing him hold a tiny, floppy puppy in his big manly hands, cradling its body against his wrist as he gently slipped the bottle in its mouth. Thank God Miguel was always there, or I’d have humiliated myself by launching at him and attempting to act out some of the spicy, Harlan-centric fantasies that had begun to haunt me.

Our evenings of deep conversation continued. We fell into a sweet and comfortable routine of him making me dinner, me doing the dishes, long chats over some kind of calming drink, and me trotting off to sleep in my truck as he grumbled and frowned.

Fortunately, each day the weather warmed a touch and spring began to give hints that it would finally arrive. My nights in the truck got a little less miserable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was veering away slowly from bone-chillingly cold, and I was thankful.

At the beginning of my third week at the lodge, I got a call at Harlan’s from Melanie at the library. She said Mr. Symanski had found heaps of great documents on the property and its history. I offered to come down and take a look, but she said Symanski was very particular about how town documents were handled, and as he’d left town for a few days to visit his daughter, he didn’t feel comfortable with me rifling through everything without him there. Instead, he’d promised to make copies and put together a set for me to keep. How could I refuse? It would save me a lot of trips to town and a lot of time digging through records when I needed to be at the lodge overseeing work being done. I thanked Melanie and she promised to call and let me know when I could pick everything up.

I spent the rest of the week greeting workers and writing checks like my money was never going to run out. Roofers were there for four days. For two days the heating and cooling guy was working on the boiler and the air conditioning. And the electrician spent a day and a half upgrading everything. He’d likely have to come back here and there for specific outlets and fixture wiring, but I was sure he wouldn’t mind, considering the fat check he got on his first visit.

Mid-week, Michael Powell, Simon’s husband, stopped by. He was much friendlier than Simon and jaw-droppingly beautiful. He had smooth ebony skin, close cropped hair, and insightful brown eyes with dark lashes so long, he could have given butterfly kisses from across the room. And it was clear from his muscular build that he saw the inside of the gym with regularity.

Way to go, Simon!

Michael and I toured the lodge and I talked him through all the improvements. He was very encouraging, forthcoming with great advice, and surprisingly honest about his envy for some of our amenities. It really filled my bucket. This man, whose business had taken the place in my brain as the pinnacle of success that I’d never achieve, was complimenting me and cheering me on.

At the end of our visit, he hemmed and hawed a moment before saying, “I’m guessing that when Simon was here, he probably wasn’t the warmest. He’s always loved this place, and no matter how many times I tell him we’ve got enough on our plate with the Firebrand, he can’t stop obsessing about it.” He rolled his eyes. “I just want you to know, we’re really excited for you. And Simon is working through his begrudging feelings. ”

“Thanks. He wasn’t that bad,” I said, smiling back.

“Good. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into the messenger bag he had slung across his body. “Here,” he said as he handed me an envelope with this same gilded logo as Simon’s card. “It’s a voucher for a night’s stay and some spa treatments. Simon and I know how grueling restoration can get, so if you ever want a night off and a chance to decompress, it’s on us.”

My eyes welled. I hadn’t realized how stressed I really was. Most of it was money worry, but overseeing this project had started to take its toll even more than I’d imagined. Hugging him, my throat grew tight and I struggled to keep the tears from flowing.

As Michael left, the plumber arrived and my need for spa treatments spiked. Another big job. Another large bill. Another necessary repair to make the lodge habitable. That said, once the plumber was done, I would have heat, lights, a roof, a working toilet, and no critters. Just enough of the basics to move in. The prospect of spending my first night was so thrilling, it got me through the nausea and anxiety of writing yet another check.

That night would be the first time I’d lay my head down and rest in my place! Okay, so I’d have to sleep on the grubby old sofa in the great room. Harlan and I had to trash the couple of beds that were upstairs. The frames were rotting and the mattresses had the remains of nests left behind by the mice that Dale and Annie had evicted. So, my victorious first night at the lodge would be spent on a manky old couch with scratchy woven fabric and wooden armrests. None of that mattered. The lodge was livable. And as soon as I could get to painting and decorating, it would be beautiful.

That night at dinner, I announced my grand plan to Harlan. He wasn’t as thrilled as I hoped. I wasn’t astonished, considering the hard sell he’d given me about staying at his place. But I didn’t let him get me down .

“You’re sure you wanna stay there? The place is still pretty rough. And that couch smells like Randy’s old hunting boots,” he said as he placed a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of me.

“Don’t shit on my parade, Harlan. This is a big deal. And I’m sure in college I slept on funkier couches than that one.”

“Still. I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He just couldn’t let me have this one thing. His furrowed brow made me see red. But rather than snapping and starting one of our typical debates about my sleeping arrangements, I took a breath and didn’t engage.

“Your concern is noted.”

Taking a bite of one of the meatballs, I let out a little moan. Harlan’s food was always so homey and delicious. I looked up and he was staring at me, but in a different way than usual. His face was a little flushed and his silver-blue eyes darkened. If I didn’t know better, the sound I made had revved his engine. I said a quick prayer that he might have even just a thousandth of a percent of the interest in me I had in him. He blinked a couple of times and went back to eating. I did the same.

“Do you know anyone who refinishes wood floors?” I asked between bites.

“Yeah. Me.”

Up to that point the actual hands-on work that Harlan had done was minimal. Usually, he was helping me assess what I needed to hire someone to fix. This was new territory and I felt like I’d be taking advantage.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I offered. You buy the supplies and I’ll do the floors.”

It wasn’t a discussion. He’d decided. And for once, I didn’t want to fight him on his bossiness. I didn’t really have the money to hire a flooring guy, so I would gladly take his help.

“You’ve got sauce on your cheek,” he said. I lifted my napkin to wipe it away, but must have missed. “Nope. It’s right here.”

He leaned across the table and ran a thumb across my cheek. A thousand prickly jolts of electricity tingled where he touched me. He let his hand linger, and then gently stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I gazed into his intense eyes while he stared at the spot where he touched me. Typically, I hate the word magic , but there was no other way to describe the feeling in the room. Pure goddamn magic.

But a moment that perfect couldn’t last. The phone on the wall rang. The surprise caused me to jerk in my seat, shaking his hand from my cheek. Harlan let out a frustrated breath and crossed to answer it. His annoyed expression quickly shifted to one of concern when after saying hello he was greeted by loud sobs I could hear all the way across the room.

“Doodle? Is that you? Hold on, honey. You have to calm down. I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

His brows slanted and his cheeks pinked as he stood stone still, a wailing sound pouring out of the receiver.. It had to be his daughter, considering the adorable nickname. Suddenly, I felt like I was intruding. I started to stand, but he shook his head and gestured for me to sit.

“So, she finally told you. Yes, I knew,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. It sucks. But it’ll be fine, sweetheart. Wouldn’t you rather be in Florida than drafty, damp old Michigan?”

He listened for a moment. Shannon’s voice raised high enough a few times that I could hear her, but couldn’t make anything out. Instead, I focused on finishing my dinner so I didn’t look like such a voracious eavesdropper.

“Your mom said this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I don’t want you to miss out…I know. I know. But Cort seems to think Billy really wants to mentor you. It’s not just Cort pushing. Billy saw your video. The whole thing was his idea.” He paced a bit, only going as far as the cord on the phone allowed. “I’m not siding with the devil! Doodle, you’ve got a real gift. And as much as I can’t stand Cort, he knows what he’s talking about.”

My chest ached watching him bite his lip and swallow his hurt feelings so he didn’t upset his daughter. A less mature or pettier man would have riled Shannon up, campaigning against his ex or trash talking the step dad. But Harlan focused on bolstering his daughter and cheering her up. I really needed him to stop being so damn crush-worthy.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll miss you, but I’ll be fine,” he said. He looked up at me, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I made a new friend. She’s here now. What? Doodle, stop. No, I…just hold on. Yes, I said ‘she,’ but—it’s…now just hang on.”

I could easily picture his daughter’s excitable teenage reaction to hearing that her loner dad had a woman over for dinner. Even though, much to my deep regret, our friendship had been one hundred percent platonic, the very idea that Harlan had a woman in his house must have sent his daughter into an unprecedented level of squee.

He did his best to get back on track, but from what I could gather, Shannon clearly had questions.

Harlan looked at me, blushing and rolling his eyes. “Her name is Maisie. What?” He regarded me again, debating over what to say. “Yes, she’s very pretty.”

I. Died.

Very pretty? Did he really think that? Or was that for Shannon’s benefit? What would even be the point of exaggerating to her? He really thought I was very pretty? I’m sure I looked ridiculous with my eyes wide and my jaw dropped, but I couldn’t control my surprise. He smiled at me.

“Listen, Doodle. I should go. Like I said, I have company. Just give this trip a shot and try to keep an open mind, okay? Okay. I love you. Bye. ”

He hung up the phone and sat back down at the table. The man was crazy enough to think that he could just go back to eating like nothing had happened. Even if I didn’t have a thousand questions about his daughter, I still would have been desperate to know about the pretty comment.

“So where is she going for spring break? I tried to piece it together, but I’m missing a couple pieces.”

“Kayla, my ex, is married to a hotshot country music producer. Cort MacGrath. He’s determined to launch Shannon as the next Taylor Swift,” he said. It all sounded so weird coming out of him. His life was so simple and so devoid of TV, pop culture, and social media. I was surprised he even knew who Taylor Swift was.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked.

“Honestly, and this isn’t just because I’m her dad, I think it could happen. She plays guitar like a pro and her voice…you wouldn’t believe it. Phenomenal. She writes great songs too. Witty and a little dark.” He spoke with such pride I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Cort is good friends with Billy Christian and he invited Kayla, Cort, and Shannon down to his place in the Florida Keys for a week.”

“ The Billy Christian? The singer?“ I asked, stunned. I didn’t listen to country music, but even I knew who Billy Christian was.

“Yeah. Cort seems to think that Billy might take Shannon under his wing. It would be a huge opportunity. So as much as I feel robbed not getting my usual spring visit, I decided to back off and let her enjoy the chance of a lifetime.”

What an amazing guy. His pain at not seeing his daughter was palpable, but he’d rather hurt himself than keep her from what she needed. I’d never imagined that self-sacrifice could be so damn attractive in a guy. But considering I’d been married to a selfish shit, the entire concept was foreign and exotic to me. I carried my empty plate to the sink and started to clear the table, stopping short when I remembered a key point .

“You said I was pretty,” I said, just as I reached from behind him to pick up his plate. My breast grazed his shoulder and my breath was stolen by the electricity pulsing between us.

He didn’t look back at me. “Well, she asked and I told her the truth.”

I nearly dropped the plate in his lap, but somehow made it back to the sink without incident. As I started washing the dishes, his response kept running over and over in my head. He thought I was pretty—but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested, right? He appeared at my side and started to dry the dishes.

“Are you really going to sleep over there tonight?” The change of subject and the concern in his voice instantly killed the mood.

“I really am.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You said that already.”

“All right, listen.” He threw his towel on the counter and reached over my shoulder to shut off the tap. Taking me by the shoulders, he turned me to face him. “I hate the idea of you staying by yourself at the lodge. It’s too far away. What if something happens? I wouldn’t even be able to hear.”

While I was supremely touched by his worrying over me, I couldn’t help but wonder what scared him so much.

“What do you think will happen? An earthquake? A zombie apocalypse? Or are you worried that some random pack of wolves will develop opposable thumbs and teach themselves how to open the door? What are you afraid of exactly?”

He leaned closer and planted his hands on the edge of the sink, caging me between his long, strong arms. “I’m not afraid. I just think it’s stupid to stay on a grubby sofa when you could stay here.”

We both realized at the same time how close our bodies were to touching. Something akin to a staring contest ensued and the only sound in the room was our breathing. Finally, I went for broke. If he was propositioning me, he better damn well say the words.

“What kind of ‘stay over’ are we talking here?”

He stood up straight and his arms fell to his sides. Letting out a deep breath he gestured to the hallway.

“You know, the guest room. Like the million other times I’ve offered it.”

I finally had my answer. Regardless of his flirting and lingering looks, Harlan wasn’t interested. He might have thought me pretty, but he clearly didn’t want me. I didn’t allow myself to fully absorb the sting of rejection. Picking up the towel he’d thrown aside, I wiped my hands and then rounded the table to put on my jacket and grab my purse.

“Then this’ll make a million and one times that I’ll say thanks for dinner and no thanks for the room. I’ve got a couch that’s calling my name.”

I marched to the door that led from the kitchen to the wrap around porch on the side of the house beside the kennels. I opened the door and walked out, without looking back.

“Maisie, wait—“ I heard behind me.

I didn’t turn. I didn’t want to see his beautiful face now that I knew he wasn’t interested. Instead, I would cry into a filthy couch and pass out. Some victorious first night in my place, huh? Instead of celebrating a milestone in my history at the lodge, I’d be bawling over a guy.

Really crushing the strong, independent woman goals there, Maisie.