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towering pines, and the only trees he’d excavated were those that were simply in the way of his large, rustic home and those that directly obscured his view of the lake below from his large deck. He loved his home. It made coming back to this place tolerable. It was his sanctuary—all his. He rarely had company, his family and the occasional date. He dated plenty, but he avoided letting most women come home with him—preferring to fuck them on their own ground than his. He just didn’t want to share this place. He wasn’t ready to share any real part of himself yet.
    He let Macy run while he collected wood for the outside chimney on his deck, and he stacked the wood on the already plenty high woodpile. When he hiked down to the lake with Macy in tow, he walked carefully. He wasn’t interested in falling victim to a copperhead bite, and he sure as hell didn’t want to pay any more vet bills when his dumbass dog got herself bitten. He loved the dog. He also really enjoyed her utter stupidity.
    He’d taken Macy to a dog park once a few months ago. He’d expected his dog to make easy friends with pretty much every other animal there, and she had. She didn’t have an aggressive bone in her body. What he hadn’t expected was the overwhelming need most dog owners had to tout just how brilliant and well-trained their furry companions were. Darren wasn’t kidding himself. His dog was dumb—even by dog standards, but when he’d made the mistake of actually acknowledging such a thing, the lovely young woman he was talking to actually bent down to cover Macy’s ears as though he’d just said the most cruel thing in the world. “No” was the only cruel word his dog understood, and he spent the next five minutes trying hard to stifle his laughter as the pretty woman driveled on about her genius-level poodle. He walked away with her number and conveniently lost it in the parking lot. He knew his Macy was dumber than a box of rocks, but you’d hear no complaints from him. She was also likely the nicest dog you’d ever meet. Nothin’ much to complain about.
    The water was smooth as glass, and he spent five minutes skipping stones across the flat surface, destroying that glassy surface and sending ripples out in every direction every time he cocked his arm back and slung. He found a large rock, brushed it clean, and sat with his feet up on a smaller rock closer to the water’s edge. He kept his eyes moving over the surface of the rocks—there were more than just copperheads to worry about, and he was no more excited to be bitten by a fiddleback than a snake.
    Macy plodded through the water at the shallow rocky shoreline, getting wet up to her shoulders. She was destroying the bath she'd gotten earlier in the day with lake water. Cleanest, clearest lake water around, but lake water nevertheless. She’d bathed his dog. She’d clipped his dog’s nails even. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d known whose dog it was she was wrestling in a tub—he’d bathed the animal before. It couldn’t have been an easy chore. What difference did it matter if she’d known it was his dog or not? Did he think she’d be cruel to his dog on his account? Of course not. Hatred was a one-way street with them, and it flowed directly from him to her.
    “Mace!” She was trampling through some downed limbs that hung out into the water. Good place for copperheads and fiddlebacks. His dog was going to live a short life in this place. He smiled at Macy as she hopped around barking.
    It was spring, and the weather was comfortable. The redbuds were in full bloom, speckling the forest with their pink flowers. It was a beautiful time of year, and his gaze fell on the opposite shoreline of his little cove, taking in the multitude of colors, but even that didn’t keep his mind from disappearing for a while.
    He’d been oddly relieved to see her again. It was a confusing combination of feelings, much like it had been the other night in the