This town. These people. Everyone loves her.”

She paused, let him nod, made sure he got what she was saying.

“Ginger is a wonderful person, Connor. She deserves so much more than she asks for.”

He didn't move, barely blinked, but the flash of torment in his eyes almost made her regret saying these things to him. Because in a heartbeat, Isabel had seen just how much he cared for Ginger.

And she knew that if he did end up hurting her friend, it wouldn't be because he didn't have a heart.

It wouldn't be because he didn't care about Ginger.

He did.

But Isabel knew too well that sometimes even loving someone wasn't enough.

The phone was ringing when Connor walked into the cabin and he nearly pulled it off the wall when he answered it.

His brother's voice came across the landline. “Had to check in, see how things are going with Dad.”

“You couldn't stop him from coming?”

“There was no stopping him. He was a man on a mission.”

It was the first time they'd talked since Sam's message from the Forest Service and Connor knew what was coming next.

“So, how's it going out there?”

“The cabin is coming together.”

“Not the cabin. You. How are you doing?”

He couldn't lie to his brother.

“Bad.”

Sam's response was just as short and to the point. “Shit.”

“I'm f**king everything up.”

“No one gives a damn about the cabin. We'll have the wedding somewhere else.”

“Not Poplar Cove. Ginger.”

“The renter? Are you getting involved with her?”

Connor had to know. “What made Dianna different?”

“Everything.”

Connor couldn't have asked anyone but his brother, “How did you know?”

“I couldn't push her away, couldn't get her out of my head. Every single second, she was with me.”

Sam and Dianna's relationship had spanned ten years. Not a week, a sledgehammer falling unexpectedly into the center of Connor's heart.

“I'll talk to you later,” he told Sam.

He couldn't spend another second in this cabin, not when he couldn't push Ginger away.

Isabel had brought it all home. Her warning couldn't have been more clear.

Leave Ginger alone. Let her be happy. Without you.

Jesus. How was he going to find the strength to do that?

The wind was strong again today. Cold and biting, perfectly suited for his mood. He needed to get out in the Laser, let the whitecaps whip him around. He went down to the boathouse, stripped down and put on one of the suits hanging from a hook on the wall.

The sail was dusty as he carried it waist deep into the water to the buoy. His abs got a workout as he balanced on top of the boat, unrolled and raised the sail and hooked it into place.

As soon as he unhooked the clip from the buoy, the Laser shot through the water. It took him only a few seconds to find his rhythm. The farther he got from the shore, the faster the wind whipped. He felt the hollow pounding of the fiberglass hull hitting the growing waves, hoping it would numb his mind. Rain had started coming down and he welcomed the storm even as the drops turned into pellets.

He gripped the tiller hard as flew over the water, waiting for the moment when all he'd feel was the hail on his skin, the rough pull of the water beneath the hull. But Ginger was still there, in every swirling whitecap he slammed into.

Just like Sam had felt about Dianna, Connor couldn't get Ginger out of his head.

Every single second she was with him.

The wind changed directions and he barely caught the boom in time before it slammed into his head. The sheet bit into his hand, but he barely felt it. He couldn't tell if his hands were growing numb simply from the cold or if it was his usual nerve bullshit. But then he realized it wasn't just his hands going numb, it was his whole arm. All the way up to his shoulder.

In the split second that he lost his concentration, the wind yanked the boat over. He hiked out as far as he could, his body parallel to the water, his abs hard, his quads flexed as they hooked to the underside of the deck.

He tried to right the boat, but once the centerboard was no longer in the water all traction was lost. The sail was already dragging into the water, going under, flipping the boat completely upside down. He lost his grip on the side of the deck as he went under and had to swim hard to keep the wind from moving the boat out of his reach.

Jesus, the water was cold out in the middle of the lake and he didn't have enough body fat to withstand it for long. Again and again he crawled onto the turtled hull reaching for the centerboard, but it was too damn slippery, too damn slick for his hands to gain any traction.

Chapter Twenty-one

THE CABIN was empty when Ginger arrived home a short while later. Looking out at the beach, she noted that the sailboat was gone from the buoy. Thinking of Connor out there in winds like this had her instantly worried.

No, she told herself. He'd grown up on this lake. He knew when it was safe to go out and when it wasn't.

She needed to stop thinking about him every second. After changing into a paint-spattered sweatshirt and jeans, Ginger brought her easel in from the windy porch and stood in front of her it. This moment was a test. A test she desperately needed to ace.

The acclaimed Blue Mountain Lake Art Show was coming up in two weeks and this was the start of her week off to get ready. The good news was that she'd just sold another one of her paintings off the wall of the diner this morning during breakfast, but it did mean that she had one less painting to put on display.

All week she'd need to paint like a whirling dervish to get everything done on time. Especially since she'd given up so many hours this past week for the pleasure of being in Connor's arms. At the same time, though, she was thankful for the way her time with him had fueled her. A few sweet days in his arms, loving him, had provided her work with a much deeper emotional sensibility.

It was only if her creativity had become intrinsically tied to him that she was completely screwed.

Taking a deep breath, as she lifted a brush she decided she couldn't let Connor take this from her too. He already had her heart.

She deserved to keep something for herself.

It wasn't an easy start, but thank God, she finally started disappearing inside her paints. She didn't know how long she'd been working — time simply fell away when she hit her groove — when she looked up from her easel and saw that the wind had turned into a full-on hail and rain storm.