Meant to be, p.1
Meant to Be, page 1
Meant to Be
Moon Lake Series Book 2
Kat Bammer
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
The Moon Lake Series Books
Moments of Trust - Sneak Peek
I’m grateful for you lovely readers, who make writing these books both a joy and an honor.
Copyright © by Kat Bammer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information, storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
Editing by Kathy Bosman, Indie Editing Chick
Proofreading by Tandy Proofreads
1
“Oh, God.” What was that awful noise? Claire Gunterson buried her head into her pillow and snuggled into her warm blanket. But that didn’t help with the nasty beeping from her nightstand. She slapped around in the darkness until she got hold of her phone. Claire opened one eye and glanced at her clock.
4.30 a.m.
She groaned and with herculean effort, threw her blanket to the side, just to pull it back over her body immediately—it was freezing in her room. Winter was just around the corner in the small mountain town Moon Lake and even though the days were still tolerable, nights—not so much. This would be her first winter up here and Claire had mixed feelings about the cold and snow.
Claire yawned. She tried to muster enough energy to get up, but her body was heavy and warm from sleep and even wiggling her toes took effort. Why did she still feel tired to the bone if she just slept for eight hours straight? Yes, it was early, and still dark outside, but she went to bed extra early.
“Come on, lazy. Get up.” Usually Claire didn’t talk to herself, but desperate times...
She remembered the dough in the fridge. Cinnamon rolls for breakfast today. Mrs. Hayes and her lovely husband, their last summer guests, loved cinnamon rolls. So that’s what Claire had planned for their last breakfast at the Moon Lake Inn, and if she didn’t get up now, that wouldn’t happen.
In a burst of energy she threw her blanket to the side—and shivered. Getting up early had never been a problem in the past. She even liked it. It was her quiet time, her most productive time. Just what was wrong with her?
Claire got up and dressed as fast as she could.
Maybe she was coming down with something or maybe she just needed to catch up on sleep. This past summer had been pretty intense after all.
Lisa’s healing had taken longer than they had expected, but thank God, her best friend and co-owner of the Inn was okay now. Stupid prick, that psychopath who’d kidnapped and nearly killed her. Claire shivered on her way downstairs—this time from memories so she immediately suppressed them. She switched on all the lights on her way and left the curtains closed when she reached the kitchen. It was still dark outside, anyway. Later she would take a cup of coffee outside and watch the sunrise.
But for now—she had work to do.
Half an hour later she rolled up the dough for the cinnamon rolls and cut it into neat little slices and placed them on a tray. The first two batches of breakfast rolls were already baking and a heavenly scent emanated from the oven.
Five minutes to switch batches, then she could go outside and watch for the sun to rise over the mountains.
Claire opened the back door and inhaled deeply. It was still smelling like summer. Even though the air was crisp and fresh. The sun would soon warm everything up and another beautiful day would arise here in Moon Lake.
Blake would be up by now. Most likely running. He loved to run in the morning. He loved everything he did, be it working at the bar, running, or having sex with her. Claire remembered their last night together and heat rose into her cheeks. He definitely loved having sex with her.
She stepped back into the kitchen, just in time for the timer to go off. She grabbed her oven mitts and set the hot baking tray on the cooling rack before she closed the oven and slipped off the mitts to readjust the temperature.
A minute later she took the tray with cinnamon rolls and opened the oven again. The steamy heat evaporating made her dizzy for a moment and she grabbed the counter to steady herself.
Searing pain permeated up her left arm, and she instantly dropped the tray which clanged on the floor, and unbaked cinnamon rolls rolled all over the floor.
“Fuck, oh Christ Almighty.” Claire looked at her hand, then at what she had touched. She hadn’t grabbed the counter but the hot baking tray on the cooling rack. Now her fingertips were an angry red and hurt like hell.
She lunged at the sink and ran cold water over her fingers while tears ran down her face. The pain was instantly manageable under the cold water, but as soon as Claire shut the water off, the searing pain started again.
What was wrong today?
Claire was still sobbing and cooling her fingers when Lisa’s mother, Jo, entered the kitchen. Lisa, Claire, and Jo had developed a ritual in the last months after Lisa’s dad died. Jo came in every day, helped her prepare breakfast, and all three of them had a nice cup of coffee and breakfast together. Jo had changed. She was more vulnerable, softer, than when Claire and Lisa arrived in Moon Lake. The death of a loved one changed you—Claire knew that better than anyone.
“Claire, what’s wrong?” Jo wrapped her arms around Claire’s shoulders. “Why’re you crying?” She looked at Claire’s hand under the running tap. “Oh, burned yourself? Poor dear. There’s some burn ointment in the first aid kit.” She went to the kit and rummaged around. “It just happens sometimes, when you handle these hot things daily.”
Jo would know. She and her husband had run the Inn for decades.
Jo helped Claire sit in the breakfast nook and cared for the wounds.
“Wow, these are bad, poor dear. I’d say you’re out of commission.”
Claire teared up again.
When Jo was done with the burns, Claire grabbed Jo’s hand with her good hand and held on a little longer. “Thanks, Jo.” She couldn’t remember the last time someone took care of her. Her own mother hadn’t been the caring type or the staying type, for that matter. And her grandfather, who had practically raised her, had been former army. Tough as nails and not very caring by nature, even though he really tried.
Lisa stepped into the kitchen a little while later. She took one look at Claire’s bandaged hand then at her mother working at the counter and pinched her brows together. “What happened?” Her gaze swept from her mother to Claire and back.
Claire’s eyes got wet and before she could swallow down the tight feeling in her throat, Jo answered. “Claire burned her fingers. She’s out of commission for now.”
Lisa squeezed her shoulder on her way to the coffeemaker. “Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”
Claire nodded and Jo looked up at Lisa. “Remember when you were a kid. You burned your arm on the stove. God, we had to go to the hospital it was so severe.”
They both nodded, lost in shared memories.
Claire smiled about their little mother/daughter moment. Then the events of the summer came flashing back. The hairs on her arms stood up. Now the burn wound on her arm wasn’t the only mark on Lisa’s body. She had the scar of a stab wound in the back and multiple scars on her leg to remind her of the terror she endured. Claire shifted uncomfortably. Dizziness clouded her vision again.
“What’s wrong? You’re white as a sheet.” Lisa pinched her brows and put down her coffee but hovered over her seat opposite from Claire.
The dizziness subsided and Claire could see the concern on Lisa’s face.
“Nothing, it’s okay. Just dizzy for a minute.”
“I think you really need a little time off. Take the weekend, starting immediately,” Lisa said. “Maybe you and Blake can spend some time together. The Hayes’ departure is today, and I can get their room into shape on my own. Season is nearly over, anyway.”
Claire wanted to disagree, but Lisa didn’t give her the chance. “You deserve it, Claire. You worked like a dog during my recovery. But I’m fine now. Mom and I can manage breakfast.” She looked at Jo, who nodded and smiled at Claire.
“Yes, dear, we’re all right. Get yourself a little rest. You look exhausted and with your fingers, you wouldn’t be of help anyhow.”
Claire bit her lip and sat silent for a minute. She had been tired a lot lately. Maybe she should take some time off. Sleep and rest sounded wonderful. Crawling into bed right now sounded like heaven.
“Maybe I could use a little rest.” She smiled at
2
“Great view up here.”
“Yeah.” Sebastian Blake handed the two coffee cups, he had somehow successfully maneuvered up the ladder, to his best friend, Peter Fisher, who sat above him on a beam of the soon-to-be roof of Blake’s soon-to-be new home.
“You should build a second floor up here. You would even have a lake view if you cut the trees down there.”
Blake scoffed. “Nah, got better things to do when I’m up here than looking out the window.”
He didn’t need a lake view; he just needed a place where he would have some damn peace and privacy. Living in the small apartment behind the bar had been okay for a while, when he took over the bar and moved to Moon Lake. But it was getting old. He surveyed the place. There had been a hunting cabin up here, but it had been old, the wooden beams broken, and it had a hole in the floor the size of a bathtub. So logically, the fixer in him fell in love with the place instantly. The clearing around the old cabin had been nearly the size of a soccer field, big enough to not feel confined by the trees surrounding the meadow, and it had nearly doubled in size with the felled trees he used to build the new cabin. He had decided to just start fresh and build exactly the kind of home, he’d always dreamed of when he was young. Well, it wouldn’t be exactly like that. He had dreamed of a big house for a big family. But dreams change. It would be big enough for him to feel comfortable. Glass and wood and open space.
Blake stepped from the ladder onto the beam and sat next to Peter on what would soon be the roof construction. They silently sipped their coffee.
“Winter’ll be here in no time. You need to have the roof up by then,” Peter said.
Blake’s face tightened. Not only the roof but windows, as well. It was already October. He had to increase his hours up here, or he wouldn’t make it before snow came.
“I should hire some people to help with shit up here.” His tight face turned into a frown. Blake didn’t like to ask for help. Ever. Not even paid help.
“Maybe you should. Everybody in Moon Lake would be happy to help. The boys will be back in a few weeks too. Just turn our hunting plans into house-building plans. Would be fun and we’d get a shitload done.”
“Fun. Or agony.” The teasing would be relentless. But Peter was right. With the boys here, they would have the roof up in no time.
Peter’s stomach rumbled loud enough even Blake could hear it. “Hey, what happened to those cookies you promised me for breakfast?”
Blake winced. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn I didn’t even open the packet. But it was empty. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s eating my stuff.”
Blake’s eyes scanned the area but there was nothing out of order. First, he had thought it was animals that helped themselves to his food. But he had it stored away in a metal chest for weeks now and there were still things missing, things he could swear he’d left in there.
“Don’t sweat it. You can make it up to me by buying breakfast at the cafe.”
Blake’s stomach rumbled, as well. “Deal. I just have to skip by the bar first. Beverage delivery arrives in”—he looked at his G-Shock watch—“shit—fifteen minutes.”
They both moved down the ladder in a choreographed maneuver. Blake rinsed out their coffee cups by the well hand pump and stored them back in the chest. Water would be another issue. He needed to get the plumbing in order. He would start with that later today. But first things first. Bar, then breakfast, then plumbing. He checked one last time if the gas of the camping stove was off and left the cottage by the front door.
Peter stood by his truck, one foot already inside. “See you at the cafe, or do you need help with the delivery?”
Blake shook his head before he gave Peter a two-fingered salute. “No need. I’ll just put it inside and leave it for Milan to store the stuff. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, max. Meet you at the cafe.”
Peter was always eager to help and Blake couldn’t have found a better friend. Blake tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a second. Peter had been like that in the Teams, but being a deputy sheriff suited him even more. To serve and protect, and help and assist wherever he could.
Blake watched Peter hop in and accelerate down the gravel driveway. Before getting in his SUV, he took one last look across the clearing. He really loved the silence and nature out here. Blake shook his head—no time to enjoy his surroundings. He got in, turned the key in the ignition, closed his door, and sped down the driveway. At the end of the clearing, he looked back through the mirror and caught a glimpse of movement. Blake stepped on the brake and turned around in his seat. He didn’t see anything moving but he could have sworn there had been a small kid running across the meadow.
Should he go back? He sat still for a moment, his eyes glued to the mirror but he saw no movement. He looked at his watch again. He really had to get going. There wouldn’t be a kid running around in the woods alone. Maybe it had been a deer and his eyes had played a trick on him.
Blake’s stomach growled again, and he lifted his foot from the brake and sped up again. He needed to hurry to get to the bar in time for the delivery and Peter was waiting for him at the cafe. He would go on a lookout another time. He could spend the night up here tomorrow and check things out then. The empty package of cookies came to his mind. Maybe there was something, or “someone” going on that was worth investigating further.
3
Moon Lake really was her home now. Claire had taken the bike out for a ride to Blake’s Bar to grab dinner there and had to stop three times to chat. Right now their neighbor Mrs. Brooks told her about her son Paul who was doing pretty well this season with his new NHL franchise team the Hamilton Mohawks.
Claire didn’t follow hockey at all, but Paul was Julie Brooks’ brother and she had met him and some of his teammates, when they visited back in June.
So between Julie’s updates about him and Lisa and Peter watching the games, Claire knew more about hockey than she cared for. Even though, whenever she had the choice between a cooking show and some sports hoopla on TV, cooking would always win—hands down.
So she smiled at Mrs. Brooks and nodded and congratulated her. The people of Moon Lake always had time for a quick chat, and even though Claire still felt a little under the weather, it would be rude not to take a few minutes to chat with the neighbors.
Claire arrived at the parking lot in front of the bar. Not a lot of cars. Maybe Blake wouldn’t be too busy, and they could have a nice chat. It had been quite some time since they had spent time together—aside from sleeping together, which happened fairly regularly.
She remembered Peter and Lisa, home at the Inn. They had been sitting on the couch, ready for their movie night and Claire hadn’t wanted to impose on their date night.
Claire rounded the corner and leaned her bike at the side wall of the building. The surface of the lake resembled a mirror in the fading sunlight, reflecting the mountains and trees surrounding it. She watched Blake’s boat on the dock behind the bar, swaying gently on the waves. Maybe they could go out on the lake this weekend. She would love to spend some time with Blake.
Claire turned around to the heavy wooden door of the bar and when she stepped inside, the smell of great Mexican food assaulted her. She stood for a minute and sniffed the air. Cilantro, chili con carne, and oregano. Her stomach growled. Claire’s gaze swiped across the room. Blake was not behind the bar and there were only three tables populated. Maybe he was behind back and would come out any minute. She took a seat on a bar stool and nodded to Mr. Brown, a fisherman and Mr. Patterson, the owner of the only store in Moon Lake, who sat on the other end of the bar.
