those full lips of his might be. The filthy me says his talents won’t matter as much if I’m the one riding his face.
If Matthew and Gretchen find another place for me to stay, I might be sad to leave now. Because Mr. Forearms is a snack and a half.
Gretchen places the receiver back in its cradle and looks sheepish. “I’m so sorry about this. Every place is booked solid, up and down Lake Huron from here to Saint Ignace. Nothing even in the Soo unless you’re okay with a motel room,” she says, using the local nickname of Sault Ste. Marie, the biggest town on the peninsula. “Otherwise, best I can find is an extremely rustic place up on Whitefish Bay near the shipwreck museum in Paradise, but it’s more than an hour’s drive from here and has no electricity. Again, I’m so sorry.”
I’m not sure what to do here. I can’t go all the way to Whitefish Bay. That would tack on hours to the day trip I need to take with my mom’s remains. I don’t know if I can afford a hotel room on the island where I’m taking her. The stranger sees my worry, and his expression shifts. Softens. A look passes between us. I feel like I know him, have known him for years. The only solution in this scenario is for one of us to leave and take our chances elsewhere, or for us to share a cabin. My brow lifts in a question; the stranger returns my question with a nod, a silent agreement. He needs me to be the one to suggest it; he doesn’t want to look like a creep.
Are you sure this is wise, Penny? I glance over at Matthew’s beefy shoulders and stern face. If this stranger isn’t safe, if I complain about a single crossed boundary, I’m pretty sure Matthew would knock his ass down. And so would Gretchen, for that matter.
I glance back at the stranger, and he lifts his eyebrows in anticipation. He’s waiting for me to say it. If this goes south, I can always get in my car and drive away.
This is unlike me, but I’m jumping in with both feet.
I tear my gaze away from Mr. Forearms to address Gretchen. “Oh, it’s all right,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll take the cabin here. It has one bed and one couch? Then he can have the bed since he technically booked first. I’ll take the sofa. We’ll just have to find a way to put up with each other.”
“Well, if you insist,” grumbles Teddy Bear McForearms. The grumble feels like a show for Gretchen and Matthew. I can read right through it. He’s happy about this.
Am I going to let this total stranger share a bathroom with me? A tiny kitchenette? Yes, I am. Do I know him enough to trust him? No, but there’s something oddly, cozily familiar about this guy, and I can’t put my finger on it.
I smile. “It’s not ideal,” I tell him. “But as long as we stay out of each other’s way, we should do just fine.”
We gather our keys and head out, to the astonishment of the owners, and I think I’m going to reward myself with a good look at the stranger’s ass as he walks ahead of me toward our cabin. Yet another memory comes rushing back like a boomerang to smack me in the head when I take notice of his swagger, the way he holds his head, rubs the back of his scalp for no reason.
He’s Joshua. That’s why he feels so familiar. That Joshua.
My heart pounds, my head explodes, and the inner child in my soul lights up like a sinking ship’s signal flare.
He holds open the cabin door and I step inside, enveloped in the scent of wood and floor cleaner. Even the light fixtures and the sink spouts haven’t changed. I’m now taller than the vintage fridge that had at one time housed the gallons of homemade lemonade that my sister and I used to make with far too much sugar (which I now realize we were allowed to do on rainy days just to keep us occupied with projects).
And now I have all of this to myself, as well as Joshua, my vacation crush, after more than 15 years.
I wonder if he remembers. If he doesn’t remember, how embarrassed will I be when I eventually blurt it out because I can’t take the suspense?
Chapter 4
Josh
When I see