“Yeah. Small-town drama is real.” She twists one of her curls around her finger. “Anyway, I’m running behind because I was dealing with his meltdown. I need to grab a shower before dinner, if you’re still up for it.”

“Absolutely.” I take another step forward, and she takes one back.

“I don’t smell all that fresh.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” I link my pinkie with hers and step up so I’m in her personal space. And that’s when I get a full view of the inside of the trailer. “Holy shit, Dillion, it looks like it rained inside here last night.”

“I left the windows open, and there are a few leaks. It could be worse, though.”

“Not by much.” The mattress isn’t even on the bed, and there’s a huge watermark on the wooden platform. It also smells dank, like old wet stuff. “You can’t stay here.”

She waves her hand around in the air, like it’s not a big deal. “I’ll sleep in my brother’s old room until it dries out.”

I point to my chest. “I happen to have a great bed that I’d be willing to share.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely. It even comes with orgasms. And postorgasm spooning.” I waggle my eyebrows, hoping it will make her laugh.

She chuckles. “Orgasms and spooning? What more could a girl ask for?”

An hour later Dillion has moved her toiletries and a few outfits over to my place, citing that as soon as the trailer is dried out and she’s patched all the holes, she’s moving back to her place. I leave her to shower on her own, aware that she’ll be sleeping beside me tonight, and I’ve already promised orgasms and spooning, so there’s no need to rush things.

She pulls on a pair of jeans and a loose tank, and we climb into Grammy Bee’s old truck.

It takes a few tries to get the engine to turn over. “Any suggestions as to where we should eat?”

It’s not as though we have a huge array of choices. She taps her lip, thinking for a moment. “How about Casual Affair? It’s a couple of steps up from the diner and has better food than the bar. Everything is homemade, so the options are limited, but if you’re into home cooking, it’s honestly the best place in town.”

“I’m game.”

I’m more than happy to try something new. I don’t have a ton of memories of my mom, but she used to make me breakfast every morning and always made fun dinners, like homemade mini pizzas, since my dad often worked long hours. After she passed, our nanny took over making meals for us. She made sandwiches on some ridiculously healthy whole grain seed bread that was gluten- and basically taste-free. I’m hoping this will be different. And better tasting.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we opt for a table on the outdoor patio. It’s a seat-yourself establishment, so we head for the side with the water view. The breeze coming off the lake cuts the heat, and the backdrop of thick green forest is gorgeous.

Dillion stops to say hello to nearly everyone in the place and introduces me as her friend and Bee’s grandson. Each time, I hear a story about my grandmother and how much everyone loved her and misses her. And although the circumstances for my being here aren’t ideal, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

We finally spot a two top near the back of the patio. I move my chair so I’m sitting kitty-corner to Dillion, and our knees bump under the table.

“I thought this was supposed to be a no-contact dinner.”

“Since when?” I stretch one leg out under both of hers.

“Since this morning, when we discussed the whole PDA limitations of this date.”

I scoff and scoot my chair even closer. “I wasn’t even fully awake and was probably talking out of my ass. Nothing I said this morning counts.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re really looking to get into the small-town gossip circuit, huh?”

“News headlines seem like something to aim for.” I lean in and nuzzle her neck, nipping at her skin.

She lets out a small very non-Dillion shriek and covers my entire face with her hand, pushing me away, her eyes darting around the restaurant while her face turns scarlet. “Seriously, Van! You just love being an instigator, don’t you?”

I lean back in my chair, grinning. “Only with you, since you’re so easy to rile up.”

The server comes over, her face matching Dillion’s in color. She can’t make eye contact with me, and of course, Dillion went to school with her older sister, so that turns into a conversation.

Dinner is full of interruptions from locals who want to talk to Dillion. Between catching up with people she went to high school with and clients of her dad’s, we barely get fifteen minutes to ourselves, and I have no more opportunities for embarrassing PDAs. But watching Dillion in her element is enthralling. She’s charming, charismatic, and nothing like the riled-up woman I was dealing with until last night. She’s fascinating.

After we finish stuffing our faces—Dillion was right, the food is amazing; it’s like a barbecue cookout, but better—she suggests we take a walk on the beach. We’re on the southeast side of the lake, not far from where the beach party took place.

I thread my fingers through hers, and we stroll close to the shore. “So how do you like working for your dad?”

“It’s actually been really good. I sort of expected there to be an adjustment period, being family and his daughter, but it’s been nearly seamless.”

“That’s great. Is it the same thing you were doing in Chicago?” I realize I don’t even know what Dillion’s job was, or is.

She nods. “Project management, yeah. It’s similar, just on a smaller scale. I used to manage projects for a pharmaceutical company. It was pretty impersonal, but the money was good, and at the time, that mattered.”

“Because rent in Chicago isn’t cheap?” I ask.

“Exactly. I actually like this better in a lot of ways. I get to help make connections with other small, independent companies, and I know most of the people who run the businesses in town. It’s great to be able to work with other local businesses instead. Sure, I’m still looking for the best deal so we can keep costs down, but the bottom line isn’t always the most important thing in a place like this.” Dillion motions to the line of shops and restaurants behind us.

“It’ll be harder to find a job like that when you go back to Chicago, won’t it?”

“Probably, yeah.” Dillion has an odd look on her face, but I can’t quite read it. It’s a mixture of hesitation and deep thought.

“I don’t know that it’s going to be much different for me.”

“How do you mean?”

“I took a job for a company that specialized mainly in skyscrapers because I loved designing and the company offered me a great salary. I enjoyed what I did, and the money was a serious perk, but I don’t know that I’d be in love with it the same way I was before I came here.”

Dillion tips her head to the side. “What’s changed for you?”

“I don’t know exactly. Nothing and everything, I guess. It’s just . . . different. It makes me question what the hell the point is when all I’m doing is working to live, rather than living to work. If that makes sense.”