the long wooden raft. The sun had risen far enough above the lush pines on the opposite bank to lend a hint of warmth to the light breeze. She sat cross-legged on her mat and stared at the ripples marring the surface of the water.
Living out on Moosehorn Lake, a twenty-minute drive from the town center, gave her enough distance not to feel truly pathetic about the double knots keeping her tied to home. She was close enough to take care of her dad and her sister, and to help Mackenzie and Andrew once the baby arrived, but far enough away she wasn’t living in their pockets.
She was independent. Owned a stunning, green-roofed log house on a pristine chunk of waterfront. Had a meaningful job that connected her to her mom. So what if she chose to be a homebody, to put her family first? Just because her chosen lifestyle was the polar opposite of Tavish’s didn’t make it any less valid.
Though it does mean we shouldn’t have exchanged rings...
And shouldn’t have made promises neither of them was capable of keeping.
She was stretching into downward dog when the roar of a ski boat broke through her meditative breathing. Teenagers, probably. Her nearest neighbor, the quintessential get-off-my-lawn sort, would be pissed off to have boat noise before eight.
A quick glance west corrected her assumption of the age of the perpetrators. She immediately recognized not only the stripe down the side of the sleek vessel barreling in her direction, but the passengers within it.
Not teenagers.
Clearly the groom had escaped any serious abuse at the bachelor party if he was on the lake at this hour. The early-morning sun silhouetted her brother’s broad shoulders as he steered from his perch on the top of his seat. Mackenzie’s red ponytail blew in the wind from her position in the bow seat, facing backward as the spotter. Cadie snuggled in the passenger seat across from Andrew, the hood of her zippered sweatshirt pulled up.
Lauren didn’t need to look to know who they were towing.
Every muscle stood out on Tavish’s wetsuit-clad body as he tore up the water behind the boat, creating an incandescent rooster tail taller than his six-foot frame.
So much for steering clear of him.
All four of them waved as they passed Lauren, seemingly headed for the slalom course a few hundred yards east of her dock.
Giving up on yoga and ready for any entertainment that could distract her from the little voice in her heart that said things she didn’t want to hear, she pulled her knees up to her chest.
Her brother aimed his boat through the two white marker balls. She shadowed her eyes and reluctantly admired Tavish as he passed through the course, creating an S pattern as he cut around the balls positioned on alternate sides of the center guides.
She’d have accused him of showing off, but he had perfect right to do so. Tavish Fitzgerald carved up the water like a four-star chef did a Christmas turkey.
Something hot and needy, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, pulled at her core and made her skin tingle. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms and tried to focus on his skill rather than his amazing body.
After Tavish successfully rounded all six obstacles, Andrew slowed the boat and Tavish sank into the water. Cadie unhooked the tow rope and reattached it at a shorter length, and Andrew kicked the boat up to a roar once again.
Tavish didn’t look as competent with less rope to deal with, bailing hard after two passes. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat until she heard his laugh echo on the water. Andrew didn’t waste any time getting Tavish back up and heading in the direction of her dock.
She cursed her brother’s efficiency. Tavish in a wetsuit five hundred yards out had heated her to the point of needing to jump in the chilly lake. Said man, plus said wetsuit, but minus four-hundred and ninety-nine yards might get her on the evening news for proving spontaneous combustion wasn’t a myth.
The boat ripped by, and he let go of the rope. He was nice enough not to spray her. As a teenager, he’d been able to drench the entire public dock without getting his hair wet. She imagined he hadn’t lost that talent. Then again, had he sprayed her, it might have saved her a load of embarrassment by killing the flush she knew had crept up her cheeks. He knew how to read her. Would know what her pink face meant.
Lauren bent down at the edge of the dock to catch his ski and shook her head in disbelief. “The lake’s freezing and the sun is barely up.”
“I don’t see any ice.” With a powerful stroke, he pushed his ski toward her. It skimmed into her waiting hands.
He climbed up the ladder just as she lifted the ski out of the lake, bringing her gaze within inches of the pull of his violet eyes.
She straightened, breaking away from the hypnotizing effect he had on her brain. “You’re not supposed to get stitches wet. Plus, the strain could tear them.”
“Drew and I made a waterproof dressing.”
“And tearing?”
He grinned cockily. “I’m a risk taker.”
They were interrupted by the rumbling of the boat as Andrew maneuvered it up to the dock and cut the engine. He turned down the dial on the stereo, lowering the volume on the country song blasting out of the speakers by half.
She smiled at her brother, then shook her head at Tavish. “You’re a dumbass.”
Tavish laughed and scrubbed the water from his hair. A few chilly droplets landed on Lauren’s cheeks. She was surprised they didn’t evaporate on contact.
“Nice welcome there, Laur.” Andrew raised a teasing eyebrow as he shoved up his sunglasses.
“One of the many services I provide.” Lauren grinned. Mackenzie tossed her the bow rope and she fastened the length around one of the cleats.
“We figured you wouldn’t be busy,” Mackenzie said as Andrew hopped out of the boat and proceeded to offer both his hands to help her to the dock. “We can hold off on the pew bows for an hour or two. Garnet’s covering for Andrew this morning.”
An hour or two. Doable. Right?
But Lauren had been wrong about Tavish one too many times to believe her own bravado.
Smiling stiffly at her siblings, she tried to ignore her ex-husband as he peeled off his wetsuit.
She failed miserably. There were things a girl could forget in her life. Tavish’s ripped abdominals, marred only by a faded appendectomy scar, didn’t qualify. But they didn’t look exactly the same as they had the last time she’d seen him shirtless—a tattoo wrapped his torso under his left arm, a watercolor nature scene bleeding out of a bold diamond-shaped frame. The bottom of the frame dipped below the waistband of his navy-and-white surfing shorts. The scene looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline from mountain peak to stream.
Admiring Tavish’s taut stomach, another urge built deep in Lauren’s belly.
She fought that, too.
Mackenzie tossed him a towel, and he dried the water droplets clinging to the butterscotch-colored hair sprinkled on his well-formed chest.
Lauren jerked her gaze away. “Cadie, is Ben with Dad?” she asked, referring to her sister’s baby son.
Her sister nodded. “They headed off to see some of the new horses at Auntie Georgie’s ranch for the day.” Doting on Ben became a downright family competition at times. Parenting solo had been that much harder given Cadie had been recently widowed when Ben was born, so everyone pitched in when they could. “We brought chocolate croissants, Laur. Thought we’d have a bite to eat and then do some more skiing.”
Accompanied by Tavish’s perfectly formed pecs. Great. Drawing from the same well of determination as when she dealt with bodily fluids at the clinic, she forced her lips into a grin and reached for the box of pastries. “I’ll take