"Beardless night is apparently the exception. I'm sure she'll regret that before the night is over."
"Gotcha. So a canoe, huh?" he asks, apparently wanting me to continue.
"That canoe trip took me past two of the other three corners, and I got shot with paintballs when I passed the Malone corner."
"This odd shaped lake has only four corners?" he asks.
"Metaphorical corners. Four of them. There are probably really like forty literal corners. The wildest of the Wild Ones-"
"Wild Ones?" he asks, sitting up straighter, suddenly very interested.
I'm not sure why that rouses his interest so much, but I'm tipsy enough to continue running my mouth about Tomahawk's system of crazy. Liam is growing on me, since he seems genuine and nice enough.
"Yes. The Wild Ones are put on very different parts of the lake to help break up some of the crazy. Vincents-my brothers and I-are on this end. Malones are on another ‘corner,' Nickels are on another, and the final are the Wilders."
"Wilders? You're serious?" he asks incredulously.
I nod. "True to their name, they're even worse than us, and that's saying a lot, because … have you met my brothers?"
He laughs to himself. "I had no idea there was a political system on who was the wildest."
"Yep. And the crazy scale is often adjusting to accommodate us all. My dad moved out here when he was younger, and raised the Vincent name up to full-blown heathen status with my mother at his side. My brothers and I have carried on the tradition. My aunt and uncle are only guilty by association."
"So you've always lived here?"
I nod. "Mostly. Other than the one year of graphic design school. I don't have a degree, but I learned all I needed to get my business started, and I make good money. Online, that is. Not so much here."
"Doing what?" he asks, genuinely interested.
"Book cover design. Website design. Logo design. Anything in need of a graphic designer really."
He flashes that smile again.
"And what about your parents?"
I go a little still, then recover quickly. "They died in a car accident when I was fifteen," I say, clearing my throat. His face is instantly coated in remorse. "They were going to drive down to Seattle for their anniversary. Black ice on the road caught them by surprise. But at least they had each other when they died. One could have never survived without the other."
He blows out a long, regretful breath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"We moved on. It's fine. You're not dredging up memories I can't face. We've faced all of it head on with Aunt Penny and Uncle Bill. I'm just not used to someone not knowing the story."
I glance over my shoulder to see Delaney is now talking to Benson, even though he looks less chipper now than he did before. His eyes are on me, and I offer a tight smile.
Delaney would back off immediately if I said something, but why bother? If Benson wants to have fun with other women and ignore me-the girl who has been hanging with him, beard and all, for the past few years-then he's allowed to do that.
I refocus my attention on Liam as he leans back, running a hand through his blond hair.
"You said Malones were one of these wild families?" he asks.
"Yeah. You've heard of them?"
He shrugs, a small, secretive smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe. Are you enemies or something?"
"No. No Wild Ones are enemies to each other. It's not like that. My best girl friend is a Malone. Her dad and cousins like to shoot us with paintballs when they spot us on the water, because my brothers accidentally blew up their dock last summer."
He chokes on his beer. "How do you accidentally blow up a dock?"
"Pipe bomb. They were trying to blow a big stump out of the water, but Hale tripped, and the bomb flew out of his hand. It caught the edge of the dock just as it went off. No one was hurt, but they still hold a silly grudge."
He laughs harder, as though he's not believing this. It's a true story. Not even one of the most unbelievable either.
"They rebuilt the dock to be even better than it was, but a Vincent still gets shot with a paintball if they get anywhere near that dock now."
"Damn," he says on a chuckle, then looks around and takes a deep breath, silence falling over us comfortably.
"Never was able to just relax like this in LA. I almost moved to Seattle for a while," he finally says.
"What changed your mind?" I ask.
"The rain," he answers without hesitation, to which I laugh.
"The rain can be fierce here, too. We've just got a small, semi-dry spell before it starts back up near the end of summer."
He nods, still smiling as he stares out at the lake. More boats are moving this way, but despite the small disturbance, it's still peaceful.
"I'm okay with the rain now," he says softly.
"Why's that?" I ask, leaning up on the picnic table and bracing my head with my hand.
"The rain forces me to slow down, and now I actually want to slow down. Life has a way of changing you. And I finally realized one day that I had no real friends, my job was controlling my life, I was moving at the speed of light, yet staying in the same stagnant spot, and my money brought about some of the worst of humanity disguised as the best. The biggest eye-opener was when I got hurt in a sky-diving accident, and barely managed to walk away with my life. Saved by pure dumb luck and one crazy girl."
"What?" I ask, genuinely interested.
"The parachute malfunctioned and opened late. I still managed to slow my speed enough to land a little softer, and also had enough time to steer myself over water. I was banged up and suffered a broken leg instead of dying. A girl diving with us that day pulled me out before I could drown."
My heart is actually racing as he turns to face me again.
"My family didn't call to check on me. My so-called friends didn't bother stopping by or calling, other than the few who feigned concern. Everything fun suddenly seemed so empty, because I realized no one really cared about me. Only one girl acted like she truly gave a damn, and I barely even knew her."
"What was her name?"
He flashes me a grin.
"I'll tell you soon. She's actually the reason I decided to buy the cabin out here. This is her hometown."
My jaw drops, and he winks at me.
"So that explains the total lack of interest in all things with a vagina. I sort of wondered if you were into men," I say thoughtfully.
He barks out a laugh, and I smile as he shakes his head. "Nah. I'm still working up the courage to tell her I stalked her here. I haven't seen her out yet, but in a place this small, it's bound to happen sooner or later. I just didn't expect everyone to be so spread out."
I start to try to pry a name out of him again, when suddenly he's smiling at something over my shoulder. "Hey, I'm Liam Harper."
"I know. We've met multiple times now," Benson says, his body moving in behind me on my seat at the picnic table.
His legs come up beside mine as he straddles the seat and me from behind. His hands rest on his legs, but just his proximity is having me swallow harder.
Liam looks confused for the barest second before his eyebrows hit his hairline. "Benson Nolans?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't look that different," Benson groans.
"Yeah. Yeah, you do," Liam says, and I tilt my head back on Benson's chest to smile up at him.
He glares down at me, but his twitching lips betray him. Without thinking, I reach up, my fingers touching the side of his face. He goes stiff behind me, the humor in his eyes dying.
"I like being able to finally see a damn expression," I tell him, even though I'm saying this upside down.
His smile returns as my fingers trace down the surprisingly soft remnants of his beard. It's not wiry anymore; short like this, it feels like silk. Okay, not that soft, but definitely soft enough to feel inviting.
"Benson!" Delaney calls, then stops when she sees us.
She deflates almost instantly, and actually looks hurt for a brief second. I'll explain to her later that Benson has been mine for three years, but I didn't realize it until I woke up on top of him.
"Do not leave me alone with them," Benson says quietly as I lower my hand, and I hear Liam start to laugh.
"Glad I came in at the end of this beard thing," Liam says, causing Benson's lips to twitch.
"You're the one who was over there with them. I always hang out in this exact spot," I point out, still looking up at Benson, who frowns down at me.
"I had to talk to Paul about importing some materials too big to drive on that rickety road behind my place. He's the one with the barge. Then I had to listen to fifteen stories about random things before I could get away from him. You know how Paul is."