Millionaire Rents A Lakeside Cottage For A Weekend, Unsuspecting He’d Fall For The Woman Next Door
An Unlikely Meeting by the Lake
Zaden Brooks had just wanted a weekend away from the noise. No meetings, no emails, no fake smiles, just quiet. Which is why he was now staring at the keys to a lakeside cottage he’d impulsively rented under a fake name, hoping for anonymity and peace.
What he did not expect was to wake up his first morning to the sound of a woman yelling at a goose.
“Get off my dock, you overgrown pigeon!”
The voice rang out clear and furious. Zaden stepped out onto the deck, coffee mug in hand, and spotted her. She was barefoot in worn denim shorts and a soft-looking sweater, with her dark curls piled messily on top of her head.
She wielded a broom like a sword as she chased the goose with the determination of a woman who had clearly been through this before. The goose honked indignantly and flapped away. He couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him.
She looked up sharply, eyes narrowing as she caught him watching.
“You think this is funny?”
“Extremely,” he said, raising his coffee in salute. “I’d pay money to see that again.”
“Oh good,” she muttered, walking back toward her own cottage. It sat close enough that he could see the chipped blue paint on the window frames.
“Another weekend tourist who thinks the wildlife is entertainment.”
Zaden raised an eyebrow.
“You live here?”
She shot him a look.
“Do you?”
“No,” he admitted. “Just visiting.”
“Figures,” she said.
She disappeared inside her cottage, leaving him standing there still grinning. Later that afternoon, he ran into her again—literally.
He was walking back from the local market with a bag of groceries when she stepped out of the tiny bookstore on Main and crashed right into him.
“Seriously,” she said, stumbling back.
“Hey, you came out of nowhere,” he said, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.
She glanced down at the bag of groceries.
“Let me guess, you bought all the fancy wine and the overpriced cheese so no one else could have any.”
He laughed.
“Actually, I just bought the first things I recognized. I’m not exactly a regular here.”
Her expression softened just a little.
“You’re really not from around here, are you?”
“Nope. Zane,” he offered his hand.
She hesitated, then shook it.
“Celia. I live in the cottage next to yours. Welcome to Lake Forest.”
“Thanks. You always this friendly?”
“Only when I’m being watched by judgmental geese.”
He chuckled again.
“You’re funny.”
“That’s not what my ex said.”
Something flickered across her face for a second, but then it was gone. She shifted the paper bag in her arms and nodded toward the lake.
“If you’re staying the weekend, just a heads up: the power flickers during storms, and we’re supposed to get one tonight.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
He looked at her again—really looked. She had the kind of face that didn’t need makeup: freckles across the bridge of her nose, honest eyes, and a mouth that looked like it smiled more often than not, even when she was annoyed.
“You know, you could have just said hi this morning instead of attacking poultry.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Enjoy your cheese, tourist.”
But her lips twitched just a little as she turned away. That night, just as she’d predicted, the storm rolled in. The sky cracked open with thunder, and the rain came down hard.
Around 10:00, the lights in Zaden’s cottage blinked once, then went out. He lit a few candles, then paced.
He wasn’t used to silence like this: no television, no soft hum of electronics, no city horns—just thunder, wind, and the occasional creak of wood. And then, a knock.
He opened the door to find Celia standing there in a raincoat, holding a flashlight and a thermos.
“I figured you’d be useless in a blackout,” she said. “Hot cocoa?”
He blinked.
“You walked over here in the storm to bring me cocoa?”
“Don’t get excited. I brought marshmallows for myself.”
He stepped aside.
“Come in.”
She peeled off the raincoat and shook out her hair.
“You’re lucky you didn’t lose power sooner. Sometimes it goes for hours.”
He watched her set the thermos on the counter like she owned the place. She moved like someone who didn’t care what people thought, like someone who’d learned to be strong by necessity.
“Thanks for this,” he said seriously.
She shrugged.
“It’s what neighbors do.”
“You do this for all your neighbors?”
“No. Most of them can function in a blackout without panicking.”
“I wasn’t panicking.”
“You were pacing.”
He grinned.
“You were watching me?”
“Nope. Lucky guess.”
They sat in the candlelight sipping cocoa. She told him about how she’d inherited the lakeside cottage from her aunt, how she was trying to get her small candle business off the ground, and how she’d lived in the city for years before deciding she couldn’t breathe there anymore.
He told her about his work vaguely and carefully. He didn’t mention the private equity firm or his seven-figure income. He just said he worked in finance, and she didn’t press.
It was the first time in years someone had talked to him without caring who he was or what he could buy. By the time the power flickered back on, it was well past midnight. She stood and stretched.
“Well, try not to burn down the place with those candles.”
“Hey, Selia,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Thanks for tonight.”
Something in her expression shifted.
“Yeah, you too.”
