Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(52)

All I want is space and fresh air, to move my body. This unrest is what drives me to do risky things. It’s what gets me on a bull. It’s what sends me searching for my next conquest.

Neither of which is an option right now. So I pour my coffee into a thermos, slip into a pair of gym shorts, lace up my sneakers, and make my way out of the cottage. I pop my earbuds in to blast something distracting and head toward Prickle Point.

When I hit the trail, I decide I won’t just go for a simple hike. I make it hurt and run the incline just to challenge myself—just to clear my mind. My lungs burn as badly as my quads do. They are screaming by the time I near the top.

The air is still cool against my damp skin as I suck in deep breaths and slow to a walk, approaching the peak.

I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead and sigh. The view from here makes the pain worth it. And I’ve made it just in time to watch the sun come up over the horizon.

“Yeah. You’ve got this.” I puff the words out as I gaze at the sky. Giving myself a pat on the back for adding the memory of an intense cardio workout to Evelyn straddling my lap.

Genius.

Shaking my head, I take a sip of my coffee. It’s not refreshing, but I know I’ll need the caffeine boost to make it through today.

The sound of a throat clearing startles me. “In the interest of not being a creepy back seat prowler like someone I know, I feel the need to announce my presence.”

I spin, and there is Julia. Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, spilling down her neck like a waterfall. Her face is scrubbed clean, and she’s wearing those tight little bike shorts she’s always sporting, along with an oversize Stal Brandt crewneck.

The sight of our family farm logo emblazoned across her chest sends an unexpected surge of pleasure through me.

“Funny,” I deadpan, covering for the unfamiliar warmth in my chest. She’s surprised me, but I’m not mad about her presence here. Still, I find it hard to look at her after yesterday.

I’m tempted to apologize. To beg her to forgive me. And for what? She understands what this show is. Hell, she’s the one who told me to own it—to sell it. She probably doesn’t care at all. And yet the guilt from this morning floods my senses, rushing through me like water from a broken dam.

I turn back to face the valley just to escape the sensation. It’s one I don’t know that I’ve felt before where my love life is concerned. Shame. Remorse. Regret.

She moves forward carefully, coming to stand beside me. Her elbow brushes mine, a gentle olive branch extended. And I make no move to create any space between us.

“Are you stalking me, Baby Silva?”

Julia snorts. “You wish.”

I joggle my head, not entirely mad at the idea.

It only earns me an eye roll.

“What are you doing here?”

She hikes a thumb over her shoulder, pointing out a black garbage bag. “Making sure the crew didn’t leave any garbage or equipment behind so the city can’t find any reason to fine us. Very glamorous, I know.”

The sun is just peeking over the horizon. She works too hard, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I nod, peering out over the lake, toward the mayor’s house. Palatial in its design, the home takes up several waterfront lots. “Good call, the mayor is a royal douchebag.”

She peers up at me. “Oh, yeah?”

I shrug. “Parker dated his son pretty seriously. Ended poorly. Now I have to hate their entire bloodline purely out of solidarity.”

I do hate the mayor. I also hate everything he stands for. Cascade Valley is a study in juxtaposition. From up here, you can see it plain as day. The ultrawealthy all blend in with the ultrahardworking. Perfectly manicured downtown streets bleed into high-end neighborhoods, then stretches of farms. Most lakefront property gets snapped up at eye-bulging prices by professional athletes and corporations hoping to build resorts. The rest of us are left clinging to the outskirts, trying to make a living and keep our heads above water.

I glance over as Julia nods, gazing out over the valley serenely. Warm, rosy light illuminates her every feature. She looks beautiful. It’s a sight I’ll never forget.

She takes me aback when she declares, “Now I hate them too.”

I can’t help it. I bark out a laugh, gazing back at her with approval. “Just like that?”

She shrugs. “Just like that.” She points at the front of her sweatshirt. “I’m Team Brandt.”

I turn and gaze over the valley again, trying my damnedest not to gawk at her. “I appreciate that, actually. Seems like every other member of the crew is Team Bottom Line.”

Or Team Evelyn. I don’t want her here. I just want to stand beside this woman—one I genuinely enjoy—and soak in the view.

“Most of them are,” she replies with no hint of doubt.

I incline my head toward her. “Show isn’t what you thought it would be?”

She smiles, the painted sky reflecting on her glossy lips. “No.”

“You’re in good company then.”

“Gotta tough it out, though. I need this on my résumé.”

“For what?”

She sighs wistfully. “The next gig.”

“Which is?”

She glances over at me. “Eventually? Major motion pictures. Directing, hopefully.” Her expression turns bashful. “A pie-in-the-sky goal, I guess.”