Lark Lake Lodge

Chapter Eighteen

Songs and Suggestions

The week of Shannon’s visit flew by. Harlan started refinishing the floors at the lodge, throwing a ton of hours Miguel’s way to take care of the dogs so he could free up time for the task. A steady flow of clients came through during that time, thanks to Miguel’s videos and website. Three of the adult dogs and four puppies were purchased and taken to new homes. It was the first time I saw the business end of Harlan’s world, and it really blew my mind. I’d only known these dogs for a few weeks, and it was gut wrenching to watch them go. Harlan had raised them from pups and seemed unaffected. It was just part of the job.

Shannon spent much of her time helping Miguel in the kennel. They had an easy, teasing, sibling-type relationship, having spent time together on Shannon’s school breaks for the last few years.

Unfortunately, that left Harlan and me alone a lot. Most of that time, he was stripping and sanding the floors, while I spread out all of my research, my sketches, and my lists on the front desk and pored over them. We tried to keep busy to avoid addressing the ever-present tension—both relationship awkwardness and deep, palpable desire.

I did my level best to stay on task and keep a classy, professional distance. But, come on. How the hell was I supposed to focus on ordering parts for the sauna or choosing tiles for the bathrooms, when a tall, strapping man stood before me with his biceps flexing while running a belt sander?

My productivity boosted exponentially after the satellite guy came and installed my dish mid-week. The lodge had internet! Huzzah! I immediately hired Miguel to design our website and reached out to an old real estate client of mine who was a PR whiz.

Craig from the furniture store came by and did a walk through with me so we could figure out everything we’d be buying from him. Harlan expressed concern about the expense of buying from a place so boutique and custom, but I assured him I’d be frugal and that quality pieces would pay for themselves over time. After we toured the space, Craig pulled out his laptop and showed me everything he had in stock or was able to order and I made a list. He’d put together a quote and then Harlan and I would have to make some final decisions.

By Thursday, Harlan had read through all of his books, and it was time for a library run. For the first time that week, I’d have a couple of hours away from him to get my head together. But as soon as I opened my laptop on the front desk, Shannon breezed in with her guitar and hoisted herself up to sit on the long counter.

“Can I play something for you?” she asked.

She was so wonderfully confident. It could have simply been youth or it could have been something more specific to her. I couldn’t remember ever being as comfortable in my own skin as she was, especially not at sixteen .

“Sure,” I said, closing my laptop.

Full disclosure, I felt a little uneasy about agreeing to listen. I had no idea what she’d play or how long it would go on. I had bad memories of a high school boyfriend who loved to write poetry, and it had made me a less-than-willing audience in such situations.

As soon as she began to strum, all concern melted away. She played beautifully. And it helped that I knew the song she sang, “Big Yellow Taxi” by Joni Mitchell. Where had this kid heard that song? Well, she was Harlan’s daughter, so she was bound to have an appreciation for old-school stuff.

I watched, enthralled as she strummed and sang. Her voice deftly navigated Joni’s near yodeling shifts in and out of falsetto. It was like listening to the original with a new youthful flair. This girl had talent. But wasn’t she supposed to be the next country sensation? The song didn’t jive with what I’d heard of her stepdad’s plans for her career.

When she finished the final chorus with the comically low notes at the end of the song I cheered voraciously. Shannon smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“That was amazing!”

“You really think so? I played it for Dad and he said the same. But I figured you’re more impartial. I’m entering this Joni Mitchell cover contest. A radio station in LA is hosting it. You send in a video of yourself and they get people to vote. The prize is five thousand dollars.”

“Wow. Well, you’re gonna win for sure,” I said. “How’d you learn to play so well?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” she said. She drew her legs up and crisscrossed them. Her guitar was cradled in her lap and she leaned on it with her elbows. “My mom started teaching me when I was four.”

“Man, that’s young. I didn’t know she played.” I tried not to let my intense curiosity about her mother show through .

“Oh yes, she plays. Her dreams of being a famous singer were the whole reason my folks split up,” she said. “Well, that and the fact that she cheated on Dad.”

Holy shit!

I was desperate to hear more. Though I felt a little guilty knowing that Harlan probably had a reason he avoided telling me this juicy story, I had to get the details.

“Okay, one thing at a time. How did her singing split them up?”

“She wanted to move to Nashville to pursue music. I was two or three when she finally got really impatient and started throwing out ultimatums. Needless to say, Dad didn’t want to move. I think it was something about how tied he feels to this place. And I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s not great with change.”

I laughed. “Yeah. I picked that up.”

“So, around the time she finally hit her limit, my mom hooked up with this young guy behind Dad’s back. I’m almost completely sure she was just forcing Dad’s hand so he’d divorce her. But before he could even have papers drawn up, she dragged me off to Nashville and broke his heart; mine too, honestly. If I’d been given the choice, I would’ve rather stayed here with him.”

Poor Harlan. No wonder why he’d stayed single so long. He’d been crushed, betrayed, and abandoned. That’s got to do a number on a guy.

“She played as many gigs as she could while waitressing and taking care of me. One night this big producer waltzed into the bar while she was playing. She caught his eye, but not with her talent. Cort fell for my mom, and even though he didn’t intend to foster her as an artist, he won her over. They got married a month after they met.”

“Holy shit. That’s quick.” Who was I kidding? I’d basically jumped into a relationship with her dad after three weeks. “Why didn’t he support her career? ”

“He didn’t think she had what it took. He told her flat out and she married him anyway. I guess she figured she’d still get to go to the CMAs every year.”

I couldn’t imagine marrying a guy who openly admitted he didn’t believe in me. Harlan would never do that. He’d supported and helped me from day one, even though I was just a clumsy stranger. I felt a pang of guilt for pulling away from him. He’d hurt me, but I didn’t know how complicated his situation was.

“So…you and my dad,” she said. Her blue-gray eyes held the exact same inquisitive stare as Harlan. “What’s the story there?”

“Like he said, we’re business partners.”

“Uh huh. He’s nuts about you. You know that, right?”

I tried to feign a surprised laugh, but I don’t think it was very convincing. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. You should see the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way before. He never takes his eyes off you. Not for one second. And he talks about you nonstop. He’s totally into you. Trust me.”

It should’ve been no surprise that Harlan’s daughter would be perceptive. She was like him in so many ways. And though she chipped away at my resolve, I held the line and didn’t gush.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“I think you should go for it! He’s a great guy and he deserves to be happy. He’s been alone forever,” she said. “Plus, I may be biased here, but he’s kind of a babe…as much as a dad can be anyway.”

I laughed again. This girl was awesome. “Okay, yes. Your dad is very attractive.”

“Gimme your number,” she said, pulling out her phone and starting a new contact. She handed it to me. “I know you two won’t do anything while I’m here and I want to check on your progress once I’m home.”

“Shannon…” I groaned. It felt wrong to foster a confidante relationship with Harlan’s daughter behind his back. As much as I liked her, it would be awkward to chit chat about dating her dad—especially since I had no idea what the future held.

“Please! I’ve been desperate for my dad to find someone nice. And you’re exactly what he needs. If I text you in a week and if you want me to drop it, you can totally tell me to buzz off. But I’m sure you know that Dad is a bit of a closed book, so I have to try to get intel however I can.”

Letting out a sigh, I smiled, and then typed in my name and number. I handed her back the phone, and she beamed as she stashed it in her pocket.

“So why Joni Mitchell? I thought you were going to be a country artist?”

“Ugh! God, no! I hate country music. I’ve been trying to tell that to Mom and Cort my whole life, but they never listen. And I’m not entering that contest in hopes of being a singer. I want to win the money for my college fund. My mom doesn’t think I should go, but I’m determined. I’ve been squirreling away since I was little.”

Just like her father.

***

At dinner that night, Shannon informed us she was going to the movies with Miguel and Heather. I shot a quick look at Harlan to gauge his reaction. He bit the inside of his cheek and his brow furrowed. It was one thing for us to be alone during the day when there was plenty to do. But once she’d left, we’d be sitting together at his kitchen table. It was the place where we had fallen into the deep conversations that bonded us. Not to mention, the last time we were alone at that table, some very delightful, very dirty things were going on .

Miguel came to pick up Shannon, and before they left, she gave me a knowing look. “I won’t be late. You two have fun tonight,” she said with a smug smile.

I started to clear the table and get going on the dishes. Harlan stood and helped me. The tick of the clock over the door to the porch was the only sound, and the air was thick with heated energy. We kept bumping into each other and reaching for the same dishes, each time resulting in a fumbling negotiation of who should carry the dish to the sink.

I washed and he dried. We worked without speaking through all of the dishes, silverware and glasses. When I started to scrub the sauce pan, he broke the silence.

“I miss you.”

The breath left my body and my eyes fell shut. The soapy sponge in my hand sat motionless in the pan as I tried not to let my wobbly knees give out. I’d missed him terribly. It was funny how after only sleeping next to him a couple of times made sleeping alone so miserable.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. Thankfully, he’d held his ground and didn’t approach me. From his darkened eyes, I could tell that if he came near me, we’d be in his bed in seconds. And I still hadn’t figured out how to get past my irrational fear of broken condoms .

“I miss you, too.”

As I started scrubbing the pan in my hands again, he took a step closer and leaned his back against the counter.

“Stay here tonight.”

It was so very tempting. Images of a naked night with Harlan swirled in my head. I was on the verge of giving in when I realized it was impossible.

“I can’t,” I said. His whole body slumped. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I really do. It’s just…what would you say to Shannon in the morning? ”

“Well, she and I had a little chat about you before dinner,” he said. He put the dish he was holding in the cabinet and moved to the other side of me to start making coffee. As he passed, he stayed close and his body brushed against me. My breath hitched.

Not fair.

“She and I had a little chat about you, too.”

He stopped in the middle of reaching for the coffee filters in the cabinet. “Looks like somebody is trying to play matchmaker,” he said. He pulled a filter out of the plastic wrapping, placing it in the machine. “Lucky for her, she’ll have a pretty easy job matching us up.”

“True,” I said. I went to the stove and collected the rest of the pots and pans, dropping them in the sudsy water in the sink. “But that’s why I can’t stay tonight.”

“What? Why not?” His cheeks reddened and his brow wrinkled.

“In Shannon’s mind, we never thought about crossing the professional line until she suggested it. This would essentially be our first date. I don’t want her to think I go to bed on the first date.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as though I’d given him an instant headache. “Maisie, I’m dying here,” he turned to face me. “I was perfectly fine with my solitary life until I got a taste of what it would be like to have you. And now it’s impossible to go back. When I’m around you, my arms automatically want to reach out and pull you to me. The horse is out of the barn now, and I’m having a hell of a time putting it back.”

His tortured eyes and his honest, pained words hit me hard. I wanted to cave—to leap in his arms and throw caution to the wind. But I wanted his daughter to respect me. It took every bit of strength and will I had to refuse him.

“Only a couple of days left. You’ve made it this far,” I said with a smile .

I reached for his hand and held it. He squeezed the life out of my hand in return. He looked so sad I almost couldn’t bear it. I decided to lighten my embargo on physical contact in hopes of cheering him up a bit. And, full disclosure, I really wanted to kiss him again. I took a step closer and stood on my toes. I pressed my lips to his. His hand slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. We both did our best to keep the kiss from spiraling into a wildfire. Our lips nibbled, pressed, and searched as we clung to one another, both wordlessly conveying our aching desire and our mutual disappointment that we couldn’t go straight to bed. When our mouths parted, he leaned his forehead against mine.

“You’re not making this any easier,” he said with a thin smile. “I think we should call it a night. I’ve got to check on the dogs and honestly, I’m at the limit of my self-control.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I walked to the door, grabbed my jacket from the hooks beside it, and pulled it on. By the time I turned around, Harlan had closed the distance between us. He took my face in his hands and gave me a powerful kiss full of yearning and a touch of regret.

“There are so many things I want to say,” he said.

“Saturday. Tell me on Saturday.”

“Saturday.”