Summer at the Lake House

I'm twenty-one years old, fresh out of my junior year of college, and I'm about to spend the summer wanting something I can never have.

Or rather, someone.

Daniel Pierce. My best friend's father. Forty-four years old. Recently divorced. And the most devastatingly attractive man I've ever seen.

Mia and I have been best friends since we were eight. I've spent countless weekends at their lake house, countless holidays with their family. Daniel has always been kind to me—the cool dad who let us stay up late, who taught us to water ski, who made terrible jokes that somehow always made us laugh.

But somewhere between the last time I saw him and this summer, something changed.

Or maybe I just finally let myself see what was always there.

Either way, this is going to be the longest summer of my life.

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The lake house looked exactly the same as it always had—sprawling wood and glass perched on the edge of the water, surrounded by pine trees and the kind of quiet you can only find hours from the city.

But something felt different as I pulled up the gravel drive.

Maybe it was knowing that Daniel's wife—ex-wife now—wouldn't be here. That it would just be him, Mia, and me for the next three months.

Maybe it was the flutter in my stomach when I saw him walk out onto the porch.

"Sophia!" Mia came running, throwing her arms around me before I'd even fully gotten out of the car. "Oh my God, I've missed you so much! College has been so lonely without you."

We'd gone to different schools, but we texted constantly. Still, nothing beat being together in person.

"I've missed you too." I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar perfume. "I can't believe we get a whole summer here."

"I know! It's going to be perfect. Just like old times." She pulled back, grinning. "Dad's already got the boat ready. We can go out tomorrow morning if you want."

My eyes drifted past her to where Daniel stood on the porch, hands in his pockets, watching us with a slight smile.

He looked different. Older, maybe—the divorce had clearly taken its toll. But also somehow more present, more solid. His dark hair had more gray in it than I remembered. His face was leaner, lines around his eyes deeper.

He was wearing jeans and a faded gray t-shirt that showed off shoulders that were broader than I'd realized, arms more muscled than any forty-four-year-old had a right to be.

"Hey, Sophia." His voice was the same—deep, warm, familiar. "Welcome back."

"Hi, Mr. Pierce." I managed a smile, ignoring the way my heart had started racing. "Thanks for having me."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Daniel?" He walked down the steps to help with my bags. "Mr. Pierce makes me feel...