Seven hours into my vacation, and I’m already going out of my mind.

I thought getting away from the lights and sounds of the city would be soothing. I thought the peace and quiet would be good for me, giving me some time to refocus and be alone with my thoughts.

Turns out, that’s the last place I want to be.

Being alone inside my head means thinking about everyone I’ve let down. It means dwelling on the past six months and what it means for my career. It means having to actually fucking think about what I’m going to do if baseball is no longer an option.

Being inside my head right now is really fucking depressing.

I need to get out.

Sliding out of the enormous bed—seriously, did Brandon have this thing custom-made? You could fit ten people in it, easy—I pull on a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt. After lacing up my running shoes, I head downstairs and start a pot of coffee, so it’ll be ready by the time I get back. I briefly check my phone, pulling up a few of the sites I know Ray was going to try to contact after I left. I see the usual headlines—people calling me an entitled playboy who got away with hurting an innocent girl. But then I realize that, despite my boredom, Ray was right. Because, among the negativity, there are a few new stories from people on my side. Ray has already started working his magic.

The early morning sun glinting off the lake catches my attention. I run every day, rain or shine. But what’s the point of living at a lake house if you’re not going to take advantage of the water, right? Kicking off my shoes, I strip off my shirt and step out onto the back patio.

I only ever saw this place in pictures before last night, and I have to say, they sure as shit didn’t do it justice. The backyard is the stuff dreams are made of. A large fire pit with built-in benches sits right in the center of it, a volleyball net complete with sand off to the side. And the dock leading out onto the water is gorgeous—dark-stained wood with posts every few feet or so and strings of circular lights running along both sides. At the end, a sitting area is artfully arranged with yet another gas fire pit in the center.

It’s an entertainer’s wet dream. Too bad I don’t know a fucking soul within a thousand miles.

The bite in the air gives me a moment’s pause. It’s mid-October, and while the days here still get up to the sixties and the occasional seventies, nights and mornings can get downright cold. I quickly shrug off my second thoughts though, knowing that, once I get in and going, I’ll warm up in no time. Swimming works muscles that running doesn’t even know about. It’ll be a welcome change.

Looking around and finding nobody watching, I do something I haven’t done since I was about twelve years old. I run full speed down the dock, leaping into the air and tucking into the perfect cannonball. Preteen me would’ve been in awe of the splash spraying up around me.

Adult me, however, immediately regrets this decision the second my skin comes into contact with the water. The water isn’t just cold. It’s fucking frigid. All the air rushes out of my lungs as the cold shock momentarily paralyzes me. And I’m pretty sure my balls are nestled somewhere up around my kidneys.

I shake off my temporary stupor, kicking my feet hard toward the surface. As soon as my head breaks free from the water, the cold air feeling about fifty degrees cooler than ten seconds ago, I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off staying underneath. The thought of getting out of the freezing water and into the even more frosty air is about as desirable as voluntarily walking into a bear den after a long winter.

I sharply spin around, deciding the best course of action is to get my dumb ass back on the dock, make a mad dash toward the house, and cannonball into the hot tub waiting for me on the back patio.

But, to add insult to this already fantastic fuckup, I’ve somehow managed to drift away from the dock, and I am much farther away from it than I originally thought. I frantically search the area surrounding me, my eyes landing on another dock only a few yards away.

I have no clue who, if anybody, lives in that house. I can only hope they’re not the inbred, redneck type you always hear about in these small backwoods towns. Getting shot for trespassing doesn’t sound so fun. Then again, I’m so goddamn numb right now I probably wouldn’t even feel it.

Deciding it’s my best option because there’s no way my frozen limbs will make it back the other forty yards, I force my arms to work and swim over to the battered dock. Climbing out, I shudder at the intense cold that settles into my bones and start running down the dock, toward the house.

It’s not until I’m almost there that I notice the dock leads directly onto the back porch of the house. And sitting on that porch is a woman. A woman who, from the looks of it, is confused as hell as to what a half-naked wet dude is doing, running up to her house.

When I see a brief look of alarm flash across her features, her cup of coffee clattering against the old metal table beneath her as she starts to get to her feet, I call out, “Wait, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stills for a moment, her eyes narrowed as they scan my face. Sensing she’s still half a second away from darting indoors and calling the police, I hold my hands up at my sides and take a step backward.

“See? Nothing on me. I made the mistake of thinking a nice cold swim was just what the doctor ordered. Learned real quick how stupid that was. Your dock saved my life. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman looks down at my soaked gym shorts and shoeless feet, as if the fact that I’m dripping wet didn’t even register until now. My teeth begin to chatter as I wait for her to finish her perusal of my person.

“You honestly thought it was a good idea to jump in that lake?” she asks, her lips turning up in the corners as she tries to stifle a laugh.

I try to shrug but fail miserably, my muscles aching from the cold as I tremble. “What can I say? Not my finest moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get inside before I actually do turn into an icicle.”

The woman’s smile falls as she jumps into motion. “Oh, let me get you a towel. You can’t walk through town like that.”

Before I can object and tell her my house is next door, she’s gone, the rusted screen door clanging shut behind her. I briefly debate on leaving without another word. I wasn’t being overdramatic when I said I was about to turn into an icicle. A few more minutes out here, and I might be able to give Frosty a run for his money.

But the woman is back before I can take a step, a big, fluffy towel in her arms. I snatch it out of her hands as soon as she offers it to me, wrapping the soft warmth around my shoulders and exhaling in relief. I’m still cold as fuck. But the towel is a welcome comfort.

“Thanks,” I sputter out through clenched teeth.

She gives me a sweet smile, her kind eyes sending a wave of heat through me as she looks me up and down. “Anytime. Though you might want to wait a while before you try swimming again. Like July maybe?”

I laugh at her bluntness. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. And I’ll get this towel back to you as soon as possible…” I trail off, fishing for her name.

She waves me off. “No rush. I’ve got plenty of others. Housewarming gift from my sister. Apparently, she thinks there’s going to be more than me living here. She gave me enough for the damn Brady Bunch.”

My ears perk up at that. Hearing she’s staying here by herself definitely piques my interest. Having a beautiful woman next door might make these next few months go by a little quicker.

No, Tag. No. That’s not why you came out here. The last thing you need to do is start something with a sweet small-town girl after that shitstorm you just endured. Back the fuck off.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” I realize she never supplied me with her name. I hold out my hand because, even though I’m cold as hell, I won’t let it stand in the way of my manners.

“Lexi,” she says after a moment, placing her hand in mine. “Lexi Barnes. And likewise. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

My fingers curl around hers, lingering a little longer than necessary. Something briefly flashes across her eyes, but it’s gone before I can even get a good look at it. Pulling her hand from mine, Lexi spins around, grabbing the coffee mug from the table, and disappears through the door, not even bothering to say good-bye.

Well, that was weird.

She was nothing but nice—after she was convinced I wasn’t there to kill her, that is—but then, as soon as her hand touched mine, it was as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. And, despite her final words, I got the distinct impression that the last thing she wanted was to see me around.

Leave it alone, Tag. You’re asking for trouble.

I know I should listen to reason. I should listen to that small part of my brain that evidently isn’t frozen solid just yet. Lexi isn’t like the girls I’m used to back in Seattle. She isn’t going to roll over for me just because I’m Tag Taggart.

But the problem is…

I’ve always loved the chase.