Page 70 of Enchanted to Meet You

“She’s a keeper,” Marcus declared, giving my shoulder a quick, warm squeeze as he reached for a spatula. “Morning, kiddo. Did you sleep alright?”

“Like a log,” I smiled, feeling a flush of warmth in my chest.

Footsteps clattered down the stairs as Leah rushed in, practically throwing herself over the counter to grab a cinnamon roll, followed closely by Carolyn, who poured herself a mug of coffee and beamed at the spread.

“Oh, this smells like heaven,” Carolyn said.

Finally, Justin and Kelcey drifted into the kitchen. Justin was rubbing his eyes, wearing boxers and a white T-shirt. I stared for a moment, still somehow expecting old feelings to rise up in me again, some lingering feeling of my crush. Instead, all I felt was emptiness—and maybe even a slight feeling of pity for him, that he was stuck with Kelcey, even though it was his choice. Kelcey looked infuriatingly put-together in an oversized dusty-pink matching lounge set, her hair styled in effortless beach waves. She stopped near the edge of the kitchen island, her eyes flicking from the sticky, icing-covered baking pans to where I was standing right beside Rhys, wearing his massive hoodie with flour smudged across the bridge of my nose.

Her lips curved into a slight, condescending smirk.

“Oh,” Kelcey said, her voice laced with that familiar, sugary falseness. “I see you guys made cinnamon buns. That’s... ambitious for a guest, Ainsley. It’s kind of a sacred family thing. I usually just let Marcus and Rhys do their thing when I stayed here.”

The subtle bite in her words was undeniable—calling me a “guest,” reminding everyone that she’s been around far longer than I have, trying to make me feel like a clumsy intruder stomping all over sacred ground.

Beside me, I felt Rhys’s body go rigid, his jaw clenching as he opened his mouth to snap back. But I didn’t give him the chance.

I set my mug down on the granite counter with a sharp, deliberate thud, wiped a speck of flour off my hands, and looked Kelcey dead in the eye with the sweetest, most blindingly confident smile I could muster.

“Oh, I know all about the tradition, Kelcey,” I said smoothly, leaning my hip back against Rhys’s side and sliding my hand effortlessly into his back pocket. I felt Rhys take a sharp, surprised breath against me, but he immediately relaxed, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me tight against his side. “He told me all about it last night. In fact, he was the one who woke me up at eight specifically so we could make them together. He said Saturdays at the cottage just aren’t the same without them, and I think we make a great team.”

The silence in the kitchen was absolute. Leah stopped mid-bite, her eyes wide with delight as she looked between us. Carolyn suddenly found her coffee mug fascinating, while Marcus looked down at the baking pan with a subtle, amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Kelcey’s face went stiff, her cheeks flushing a dull, mottled pink as she realized her passive-aggressive strike had completely backfired. She opened her mouth, closed it, and settled for taking a sharp, loud sip of her herbal tea.

“Well,” Kelcey muttered, turning toward the French doors. “They smell fine.”

Beside me, Rhys leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered under his breath, his voice thick with amusement. “Holy hell, Ainsley. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

My pulse hammered wildly against my throat, my heart soaring with a dangerous, intoxicating thrill.

By two o’clock in the afternoon, the temperature had shot up to a glorious twenty-four degrees. The sun hung high and brilliant in an unclouded azure sky, baking the wooden dock until the cedar smelled rich and sweet. The afternoon had devolved into a full-scale, sun-drenched cottage extravaganza, with the dock holding a chaotic pile of colorful beach towels, lifejackets, sunglasses, and dripping water bottles.

I was sitting near the edge of the dock on a bright turquoise towel, wearing the pale pink bikini Rhys had held up to me in the changing room what felt like a lifetime ago. Back when I swatted his hand away for coming too close, and now I’m wondering how I can get him to wrap his arm around me again and find ways to make him laugh.

The sun was beating down on my bare legs, turning my skin warm to the touch, while the cool lake water lapped softly against my bare feet dangling over the edge.

Rhys walked down the ramp carrying a bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen. He was wearing dark blue boardshorts, his broad shoulders and toned chest completely bare, glistening lightly with sweat in the afternoon heat. His sandy blonde hair was messy, sticking up in all directions from the wind. When he got to the dock, he paused, pulling his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose as he stared at me, his lips lifting in a surprised smirk. I tilted my head to the side, giving him a grin of my own.

“You actually wore it,” he said, finally pushing the glasses back up his nose and striding to the edge of the dock like he wanted a closer look.

“You can’t just leave me a bikini and a note that you bet I won’t actually wear it and think I’m not going to prove you wrong.”

He was silent for another beat, and I fought the urge to fidget under his stare. “I’m happy you proved me wrong. But I was also right.”

“About?”

“That color looks fantastic on you.”

He dropped down onto the towel beside me without another word, his bare knee brushing against my thigh. The sudden physical proximity made my skin prickle with instant, intense goosebumps despite the blazing heat.

“You’re going to burn, Ains,” he said, turning the yellow sunscreen bottle in his hands. “Your shoulders are already turning pink.”

“I put some on an hour ago,” I protested, squinting up at him through my sunglasses.

“Not enough,” he said firmly. He squirted a thick dollop of white lotion onto his broad palms, rubbing them together before reaching over. “Turn around.”

My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard, turning my back to him and pulling my brown hair over one shoulder.