Chance looked momentarily torn before giving Krissy a guilty look and taking off after Jonas and the boys.
Theresa laughed. “Dogs always love him. Of course I’m going to interrogate you,” she said. “I want to know everything about the woman my brother has fallen for.”
But as it turned out, the interrogation, thankfully, had to wait. The resort was a cluster of about a dozen adorable weathered gray log cabins. They were on a slight hill behind the lodge and were in a wide horseshoe that faced the lake. The cabins were also called dens, each named after a wild animal. Bear, Rabbit, Deer, Beaver, Skunk and so on.
“Believe it or not, Skunk Den is our most requested cabin. My dad named them,” Theresa said with rueful affection. All seemed to be occupied by members of the Boyden clan. There was also a growing tent city on the edge of the lake. They could not walk two steps without Theresa being stopped, greetings exchanged, questions asked, introductions made.
There were cousins, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, until Krissy’s head was spinning with names.
Every time she was introduced as Jonas’s fiancée, instead of feeling guilty about the lie, it seemed to become more real. She was embraced and kissed and congratulated and welcomed completely into the ranks as if she’d been born to this large, loud, happy clan.
The sound of happiness was in the air: children laughing, the low hum of conversation, the call of a name, an occasional shout, splashing and shrieking at the beach. Dogs barked and birds sang.
It was family as Krissy, as a child, had longed for, family like she had read about in books and seen in movies.
“There are so many people,” Krissy said.
“We always have the family reunion first before we open for the year,” Theresa told her. “It could be a very lucrative weekend, but its family first for us.”
Family first, Krissy repeated inwardly, and something sighed within her. Perfect contentment.
* * *
Jonas watched Krissy. This was his moment: mission accomplished. She was currently on the opposite team of the tug-of-war. She was pulling with all her might, but still his team was inching them toward the mud bog in the middle.
Children were shrieking and dogs were barking, but it felt as if his whole world suddenly went silent, his focus sharp around her.
Her head was thrown back with laughter. Her every muscle was braced. Her hair was free and tumbling around her face, her nose sunburned.
His team made their move, a sudden jerk and the other team was flying toward them, then stumbling over each other, and then falling in a tangle of limbs and shouted laughter into the mud.
Krissy was screaming with laughter. She pulled herself up—her clothes absolutely plastered to her—grabbed mud balls in both fists and came after him. He ran, and she ran after him, pelting him with the mud. He turned on her, scooped her up in his arms. She twisted and tried to free herself, but to the cheers of his family, he stomped into the middle of the mud bog and released her.
Except she didn’t let go. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and he lost his footing in the greasy muck, and they went down in the slop together. His nephews led the charge of children who were suddenly all around him, squishing mud into his hair and down his shirt.
“Enough,” he finally roared, rising to his feet and shaking children off him like a dog shaking off water. He held out his hand to her and she took it, and to the wild cheers of his family, he pulled her hard against himself and kissed her muddy lips. And then he scooped her up again, and with the children racing after them shouting encouragement, he ran into the lake and tossed her and then dived in behind her.
She emerged clean and dripping and he stared at her.
“My weakness,” he said in a voice only she could hear, “seeing you wet.”
The water had been freezing, but the sudden heat in her eyes warmed him through to his core.
He didn’t care who was watching. He scooped her up again and took her to the cabin they would share.
Later that night, they sat at the campfire, sparks shooting up into an inky dark sky. Krissy’s mouth was smeared with melted marshmallow and chocolate from the s’mores she had taken from his fingertips. Jonas decided he’d better not look at her lips anymore.
Chance was nestled between his nephews on the other side of the fire. All three of them were utterly exhausted.
The guitars came out, an accordion, a tambourine, a harmonica. His brother-in-law, Mike, had a good voice, and he led the sing-along.
The sing-along was a disaster as always: people sometimes knew the chorus, but not the words. His uncle Fred had too many beers and was singing too loudly and totally out of tune. The kids were getting tired and querulous.
Including his nephews, who began a fistfight over which one of them Chance loved best.
Jonas got up from beside Krissy and picked up Danny. His sister was right beside him and picked up Harry. Both boys were asleep on their shoulders before they reached the lodge.
He tucked Danny into his pint-size racing car bed, and his sister did the same with Harry. She disappeared for a minute and came back with a facecloth, which she handed to Jonas. He brushed the worst of the s’more remains from Danny’s face.
“You’re going to be a good dad, Jonas. And she’s going to be a good mom. I love the two of you together.”
He realized, not once had either his sister or his brother-in-law mentioned the bet or the stupid car. They were just genuinely happy for him.
And when he looked inside himself, he didn’t find a lie.
He found genuine happiness, too.
“When are you going to get married?” Theresa asked him. “If this afternoon was any indication, you should make it soon.”
“This afternoon?”
She rolled her eyes. “Disappearing into the cabin for
