with Herb Stansel, who ran the program, and she suspected he’d asked Mr. Stansel to hold up her application.
She let out a sigh as she rounded the car to Betsy’s side—poor Bet, only fifteen, and by the time she was grown up, Father would be even worse .
“Look,” Betsy said then, sounding wary.
Millie followed her sister’s eyes—toward the pristine mountain lake, and to the quaint boathouse elevated over the water in the distance. But she barely saw the building’s crisp red roof or the row of canoes lining the dock. No, she saw exactly what Betsy did. A dark-haired boy—no, man —in a snug white T-shirt. Even from that distance, she noticed the pack of cigarettes rolled into his sleeve and the tattoo on his arm underneath.
When he saw them staring, he looked back.
And a strange ache crept up her inner thighs.
Oh my. Maybe Moose Falls wouldn’t be so boring, after all.
Chapter Two
A fter lunch at the shiny new Moose Falls Restaurant next door, they unpacked. Millie and Betsy took turns in the bathroom shedding their skirts for pedal pushers and saddle oxfords, and their mother donned a straw hat to keep the sun off her face while their father assembled fishing gear. “Carl Allen is taking me fly-fishing while we talk business,” he said, packing a fishing vest with a variety of lures and bobs.
Millie knew Mr. Allen owned land south of here in Whitefish, where he wanted to build a resort. Her father was a successful real estate developer, and though most of his projects were in the Midwest, this opportunity had interested him enough to make the drive—and to pretend it was a graduation trip for Millie. Although Whitefish was at least an hour away by car, they were staying in Moose Falls since Mr. Allen lived nearby.
“I saw some chairs over by the water,” her father said. “Let’s go outside and enjoy the view.” And like the family of troupers they were, the females all followed after him, one by one.
They settled near the lake’s edge in metal chairs painted white, then looked out on the beauty of it all. And thatquickly, Millie couldn’t deny that there was something special here—a tranquility she’d never quite experienced.
Yet at the same time, her eyes kept straying…toward the boathouse. Toward the boy. She watched as he helped a young couple into a long, green canoe and sent them sailing peacefully over the water’s glassy surface.
“Charlene is quitting to get married in just three weeks, Millie,” her father said. “So you’ll come into the office for a week of training after we get home.”
“Okay,” she replied. Now her fellow in the tight T-shirt lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke up into the air, looking dangerously handsome.
“If you still want to be a teacher in a few years, I can help you find a position near home. But by that time, you’ll likely be ready to get married yourself.”
“Mmm hmm,” she answered absently. Then watched the guy haul a crate from the dock into the building. The muscles on his arms bulged and she wished she could see his tattoo.
Just then, a fancy blue Cadillac pulled to a stop on the road above them. Millie’s father pushed to his feet and went to shake hands through the car window, saying, “Carl, good to see you.”
“You too, Harold. And what a lovely family you have. I trust you found the place okay.”
But like everything else, the small talk faded into the background for Millie, because her thighs were tingling again. It was both thrilling and…strangely frightening. She’d only seen guys like this on street corners in rougher parts of town. And she’d never really looked at them—because they were scary, and she was usually in a car with her father at the time and didn’t want him to witness her dark fascination with boys so different from any she’d ever known. Now she tried not to let her fascination with this boy show, but she simply couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Especially when he exited the
She let out a sigh as she rounded the car to Betsy’s side—poor Bet, only fifteen, and by the time she was grown up, Father would be even worse .
“Look,” Betsy said then, sounding wary.
Millie followed her sister’s eyes—toward the pristine mountain lake, and to the quaint boathouse elevated over the water in the distance. But she barely saw the building’s crisp red roof or the row of canoes lining the dock. No, she saw exactly what Betsy did. A dark-haired boy—no, man —in a snug white T-shirt. Even from that distance, she noticed the pack of cigarettes rolled into his sleeve and the tattoo on his arm underneath.
When he saw them staring, he looked back.
And a strange ache crept up her inner thighs.
Oh my. Maybe Moose Falls wouldn’t be so boring, after all.
Chapter Two
A fter lunch at the shiny new Moose Falls Restaurant next door, they unpacked. Millie and Betsy took turns in the bathroom shedding their skirts for pedal pushers and saddle oxfords, and their mother donned a straw hat to keep the sun off her face while their father assembled fishing gear. “Carl Allen is taking me fly-fishing while we talk business,” he said, packing a fishing vest with a variety of lures and bobs.
Millie knew Mr. Allen owned land south of here in Whitefish, where he wanted to build a resort. Her father was a successful real estate developer, and though most of his projects were in the Midwest, this opportunity had interested him enough to make the drive—and to pretend it was a graduation trip for Millie. Although Whitefish was at least an hour away by car, they were staying in Moose Falls since Mr. Allen lived nearby.
“I saw some chairs over by the water,” her father said. “Let’s go outside and enjoy the view.” And like the family of troupers they were, the females all followed after him, one by one.
They settled near the lake’s edge in metal chairs painted white, then looked out on the beauty of it all. And thatquickly, Millie couldn’t deny that there was something special here—a tranquility she’d never quite experienced.
Yet at the same time, her eyes kept straying…toward the boathouse. Toward the boy. She watched as he helped a young couple into a long, green canoe and sent them sailing peacefully over the water’s glassy surface.
“Charlene is quitting to get married in just three weeks, Millie,” her father said. “So you’ll come into the office for a week of training after we get home.”
“Okay,” she replied. Now her fellow in the tight T-shirt lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke up into the air, looking dangerously handsome.
“If you still want to be a teacher in a few years, I can help you find a position near home. But by that time, you’ll likely be ready to get married yourself.”
“Mmm hmm,” she answered absently. Then watched the guy haul a crate from the dock into the building. The muscles on his arms bulged and she wished she could see his tattoo.
Just then, a fancy blue Cadillac pulled to a stop on the road above them. Millie’s father pushed to his feet and went to shake hands through the car window, saying, “Carl, good to see you.”
“You too, Harold. And what a lovely family you have. I trust you found the place okay.”
But like everything else, the small talk faded into the background for Millie, because her thighs were tingling again. It was both thrilling and…strangely frightening. She’d only seen guys like this on street corners in rougher parts of town. And she’d never really looked at them—because they were scary, and she was usually in a car with her father at the time and didn’t want him to witness her dark fascination with boys so different from any she’d ever known. Now she tried not to let her fascination with this boy show, but she simply couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Especially when he exited the
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