The Lake House

Book 2: Firefly Summer

by Lori Foster

Genres: Women's Fiction; Family Life

Synopsis

Second chances, surprising revelations, and sweet, unexpected love go hand-in-hand in the tiny lakeside town at the heart of this charming series from New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster.

When Pixie Nolan first came to Bramble, Kentucky, the abandoned and desperate young single mother found hope, healing, and a fresh start. With the loving support of her best friends—Marlow Heddings and her handsome Marine husband, Cort—Pixie is now happily raising her toddler son in a cozy cottage, managing Marlow’s thriving boutique, and designing firefly logo t-shirts that are selling like hotcakes. The past is behind her, and life is good.

She never expected to make an electrifying connection with a summer renter, a retired Navy SEAL with his own complicated past . . .

A rugged warrior with scars both seen and unseen, Brogan Rafferty arrives with an adorable baby girl in tow and settles into the lake house next door. And while he’s a stunning addition to the gorgeous scenery, it’s his caring devotion that captures Pixie’s heart—the way he gently snuggles away the precious infant’s cries, or swoops Pixie’s delighted little boy high in the air with his tattooed, muscular arms.

But it’s no coincidence that Brogan has found Pixie, and his startling revelations make it clear she’s the key to healing old regrets and building new dreams. And when a hostile stranger turns up with shocking accusations against Bramble’s new hometown hero, Pixie must put her own fears and heartbreak away for good—and learn what it truly means to trust.

Release date: May 26, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

Brogan Rafferty had a vague idea of how life should be. He hadn’t ever lived it, but in his mind a picturesque image always formed: family, a small cozy home, people working together in love and loyalty … an ephemeral dream he’d never been able to grasp. He’d given up wanting it a long time ago.

But now, everything was different.

As he drove through Bramble, Kentucky, the old image materialized. Granted, the sun had just set and a rose hue bathed the houses, streets, and even the numerous trees, making everything prettier than it might otherwise be.

What really struck him was the quiet. There were no shouts, no sirens, nothing breaking—or blowing up. The few people he saw—walking together or sitting on porches—spoke quietly while smiling.

Driving slowly, he made note of the old-fashioned houses with vividly painted trim and bright front doors, lights shining from the windows. Unlike the settings familiar to him, no two houses were the same. The styles, sizes, and colors all varied.

Porch swings and window boxes filled with spring flowers were a popular theme. Birds and squirrels played in massive trees. Brogan came to a stop when a deer bolted out in front of him, froze, then leaped away to disappear into the foliage. Wildlife was always a good sign of peace and tranquility. “This is the right place for us, Sugar. I can feel it.”

From the back seat, the baby made sucking noises as she feasted on her fist. Hopefully, he’d find the right address soon. She needed to be fed, and probably needed a fresh diaper, too.

Of all the things he’d survived in his lifetime—first as an emancipated youth living on his own, later getting through BUD/S and all the specialized training that followed, and then barely surviving an ambush and life-threatening injuries in northern Africa—caring for his tiny, precious cargo was the most challenging, and by far the most rewarding.

The mid-May weather was pleasantly warm, and spring rains had turned the grass and trees a lush green. Wildflowers grew in patches along the wooded side of the road, and occasionally on the other side, where he noted a few houses.

The farther he drove, the fewer houses he saw and the more natural the landscape became, until the road ended in a T and he had to choose left or right. Shortly after turning, he located the lake house.

The sight of the tiny place, set near the water and well-tended, immediately warmed him. The glow of the sunset reflected over the rippling surface of the lake. All around them, flickering fireflies began to appear. Only a few at first, then more and more.

Who knew something as simple as fireflies could envelop him in a sense of rightness? He wasn’t a man to indulge indecision. He evaluated, planned, and then acted. The fact that he was now responsible for such a vulnerable little life had made everything different. These days, he constantly second-guessed himself, but this, the decision to come here, the plans he’d put into place, they were right. They had to be.

This was the perfect starting point for a new and better life.

He would not fail.

Gravel crunched as he pulled his black SUV into the driveway next to an older pale blue minivan. The baby was fussing in earnest now. Brogan would rather listen to his own bones breaking than hear that tiny baby girl cry. Nothing shredded his heart the way she did.

After hurriedly parking, he rushed to the back door, opened it, and reached for her. Getting her out of the car seat took him a moment, and then he had to grab up the diaper bag.

She was soaking wet, which meant his shirt was now soaked, too.

Fortunately, it was a warm evening, though he wasn’t sure if it’d be too cool for a baby with a wet bottom.

“Shh, easy now, Sugar. I got ya.” Thank God he had a bottle ready to go. One armed, he opened the back of the SUV, shook out a blanket, and settled her on her back. “Gotta get ya dry first.”

“Excuse me,” came a soft, quiet voice.

Brogan glanced up and spotted a slim blonde on the walkway. Keeping his palm on the baby’s belly so she couldn’t roll, he slowly straightened.

Pixie Nolan. Yes, he was here to see her—it was the main reason Bramble had seemed fated to be his new home. He’d thought to have a day or two, perhaps a week to figure out how he wanted to approach her.

Time to improvise.

Her gaze went over him, and when she looked up again, her blue eyes were comically wide. “You’re Mr. Rafferty?”

“Yes, ma’am. Cort Easton is expecting me.”

Though she continued to stare, her smile was shy and sweet. “Cort is also my landlord. His flight plans changed, and he and his wife had to leave a day early for a vacation. He asked me to give you the keys when you arrived.”

Unexpected, but still, he could handle it. “Thank you.”

“I, um …” She laughed at herself. “Sorry, I don’t mean to gawk, but you’re really tall.”

True, enough. At six-foot-five, he stood above many people. “Might seem so with you being so …” Calling her short might be insulting, so he substituted, “Petite.” She couldn’t be more than a few inches over five feet, with a delicate build that made it difficult to believe she was a mother.

“I’m Pixie Nolan.”

He knew that already because he’d seen a small black-and-white photo that hadn’t done her justice. “Nice to meet you.” When the baby gave a piercing cry, he said, “And this noisy bundle is Shayna Raye. If you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to her before she wakes up the entire town.”

Pixie stood there, illuminated by the moon and the golden glow of a porch light. Her nearness caused an unusual restriction in his chest that limited his airflow, as if he’d just taken a blast of artillery fire, feeling like that odd suspended moment in time before a man realized he’d been hit.

It was the anticipation, he decided.

So much hinged on building an association with her. It was what the baby deserved, what was expected, and yet it was something he’d never had.

Sucked that he knew almost nothing about blood families. All he knew was brotherhood. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Her brows came together in a puzzled frown. “You have a baby?”

A rhetorical question, obviously. “I’ve got my hands full here, so my attention is needed. I’ve got the hang of diaper changes, but not so much in the back of my SUV.”

She inched closer and peeked around him. “Oh, yes.” With a light laugh, she said, “I’ve been there, done that, so I understand. Here, let me help.” She moved to the other side of him and retrieved a diaper from the bag, effortlessly opening it. “I’ll hold the bottle if you want to handle the rest.”

Damn, but he could smell her, a light scent of flowers and sunshine and possibly baby powder. The restriction in his chest increased. “You think it’s too cool out here in the night air for me to swap out her clothes?”

“It’s a warm night, so she’d be fine, but would you rather change her inside?” She nodded at his shirt. “You’re already wet.”

“True enough.” As he spoke, Shayna decided to wail again. “It was a long drive and she’s getting fussy.”

“Long drives make me cranky, too,” she said, and then, “I didn’t realize you had a daughter. Cort only mentioned one person.”

“Is it a problem?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Carefully, Brogan gathered up the baby, settling her against his chest and getting the bottle back in her mouth without her getting out a single additional wail. He felt triumphant.

“Good job,” Pixie praised as she folded the wet blanket he’d used, wrapped up the sopping diaper, and grabbed the diaper bag. “Come on. I’ll show you the house. You’ll love it.” As she led him to the front door, she said, “I lived here with my son until recently. Actually, I’d have been happy to stay here, but Andy is so active now, Cort insisted he needed more room. I’m in the guest cottage just up the street.” She tipped her head to the left. “Over that way is where Cort and Marlow live. You’ll like them. Everyone around here does.”

A dozen questions came to Brogan, but he tamped down his curiosity. If he got too nosy, he might offend her. “You like to fish?”

She stepped into the house and moved aside. “No, but Cort does. Marlow and I just enjoy the sunrises and sunsets.”

“Go boating or swimming?”

“Not much.” As if confiding a secret, she said, “There are things in the water. Big fish. Occasionally, a snake. Snapping turtles.”

He couldn’t hold back his grin. “Nothing that would hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard it all, but I still choose to stay out of the deeper water. My son and I sometimes sit in the shallow water at the sandy beach area, where he can play. I always put a life preserver on him, though of course I still can’t take my eyes off him.”

“Where’s your son now?” For many reasons, Brogan was interested in meeting the boy. Pixie didn’t know it, but it was because of her son that he was here.

“It’s close to his bedtime, so he’s with my friend Gloria.” Again confiding in him, she said, “When I came here a year ago, everyone welcomed me. Even better, they all fell in love with Andy. I’m never short of babysitters when I need one, though I don’t like to leave him very often.”

Was that a hint? “Guess I’m holding you up.” He should have realized. “If you want me to sign something, show some ID, we can take care of that real fast so you can get home.”

“No, it’s fine.” She smiled at Shayna. “Babies first, right?” Walking again, she said, “This is the sitting room; down that hall is the single bedroom and a bathroom. Everything you need is already there. Blankets, pillows, towels. Even soap and shampoo, though you probably have your own.”

He had a small overnight kit with a toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving gear, and soap. Toiletries were not, and never had been, his priority.

“I have the paperwork here in the kitchen.”

Everything about the place was miniature. Small rooms, small furniture, and a kitchen that was no more than a single row of cabinets over a sink and stove, with a narrow pantry and apartment-sized refrigerator. Good thing he was used to living lean.

The chairs at the two-seater corner table didn’t look sturdy enough to support a man of his size.

Pixie either didn’t notice his scrutiny or assumed he’d love the place as much as she claimed to. And honestly, it didn’t matter. He needed a safe, clean space for the baby. Nothing more.

She was his priority. Her comfort and security mattered more than anything else.

“There’s a stack washer/dryer in the utility closet.” She looked around as if seeing the tiny house again for the first time. “I know it’s a tight space, but when I lived here, it just meant less to keep up with. Babies, as I’m sure you know, require the lion’s share of your attention.”

Brogan leaned back on the counter, set the empty bottle in the sink, and put Shayna to his shoulder so he could burp her. While he gently rubbed her back in a circular motion, he agreed with her assessment. “Logic doesn’t apply, right? You’d think a tiny person with a smaller appetite, wearing only itty-bitty clothes and sleeping most of the time, would require less care, but somehow it’s the opposite.” His little angel belched, squirmed a moment, and then got comfortable in the crook of his neck.

Christ, he loved her, more than he’d known was possible.

“Around-the-clock care,” Pixie said softly.

“Not that I’m complaining.” Never. Having the baby’s care entrusted to him was the greatest gift he’d ever received in his entire life. “It’s fascinating, though.”

When Pixie grinned, he didn’t just see it, he felt it, clear down to his soul. Not even to himself did he want to sound corny, but she was like sunshine breaking through darkness. The magic of laughter after hearing so many broken cries.

She didn’t know it, but she was an open door when every other exit was blocked.

He hoped she’d be okay with his plans. Everything he’d read about her made it seem possible.

“You might want to get her out of those wet clothes before she falls asleep again. You don’t want to deal with diaper rash.”

Of course, Pixie didn’t know that she’d just stepped on a topic about as explosive as a land mine. He breathed a little harder, remembering things better left forgotten. He had Shayna now and he was determined she’d never suffer another ill.

Getting his mouth to smile wasn’t easy, but he forced it, adding a lighthearted truth. “This girl sleeps like a champ. I’ve changed her, and once even bathed her, while she dozed through it.”

“It’s amazing how trusting babies can be.”

It was especially incredible that this baby, after what she’d been through, could trust him—but she did. His voice emerged as a rasp. “When they’re feeling secure. When they have reason to trust.”

She tipped her head, studying him curiously. “As all babies should.”

Glad that she shared that sentiment, he nodded. “Hundred percent.”

“Do you have a crib for her in your car?”

“A Moses basket, though I’ll probably need to get her a crib soon. She’s started rolling over, and once she starts, she wants to keep going.”

With a quiet laugh, Pixie asked, “Clean baby blankets? Another bottle ready?”

It amused him to see her shift into mom-mode. He could take exception to her question, which suggested he couldn’t handle things, but obviously she loved kids and knew what she was doing. “Got all that,” he said. “Though I’ll prepare a few more bottles tonight.” Worries caught up to him and he admitted in a low voice, “Sometimes she’ll almost sleep through the night, like five hours or so, and it scares me. I almost preferred it when she was up every couple of hours.” It gave him the chance to hold her, to know she was okay. To tell her over and over that he’d never let her down, would never leave her alone, that he’d protect her always.

Reaching out, Pixie brushed the back of one finger over Shayna’s silky hair. “No other kids?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t here for her until she was nearly two months old.” Remembering felt like having a part of his guts removed—without anesthesia. “I’m military and I was away …” Dying. Or at least that was what he’d wanted at the time.

To be left alone to quietly die. To join his brothers. To escape the gnawing guilt of surviving—when they hadn’t.

Then he’d gotten the news about a half sister he barely knew, the niece he’d never met, and God, how it had invigorated him with purpose. He had a reason to go on. One hell of a reason.

“Cort was military, too,” she shared. “A Marine recon sniper. He’s considered a hometown hero around here.”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Brogan replied. He felt the same way. The military was now in his blood, the better part of him, the survival instinct that kept him going—and thank God it had, since Shayna needed him now. “As a SEAL, I had the honor of working with a few of those guys.”

“You’re a SEAL?” Awe sounded in her voice.

Damn it, why had he said that? He never talked about his service. She’d taken him by surprise, just tossing out Cort’s rank like that. She and Cort must be close for him to have shared it with her. Instead of answering her question, Brogan changed the subject. “What do you need me to sign?”

Pixie immediately got the hint. She took a seat at the table and turned the paper toward him. “Cort said you already sent the down payment and the prorated rent for the first month, so all I need is your ID, and then if you’ll sign here, I’ll give you the basic rundown and leave you with the keys.”

Brogan knew he’d chased her off, but he’d tackle that issue another time. Right now, he needed to unload the car and get Shayna settled.

He held the baby close and withdrew his driver’s license from his wallet.

Pixie was quick to confirm his ID. After he’d signed the paper and she’d put it in her purse, she sent a worried glance toward the baby. “Do you need help bringing a few things inside?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“You’re sure? I wouldn’t mind …”

She had her face turned up to his while she nervously twirled two fingers in her long pale hair. Damn, he wanted to spill his guts, to tell her the important role she could play in Shayna’s life. Now was definitely not the time, though, not if he wanted full success. “I appreciate the offer, Pixie. Really, thank you. Right now, I think I just want to get my bearings.”

Still, she hesitated.

He smiled. “I promise, we’ll be fine for tonight. How about tomorrow you stop by and give me that rundown, maybe tell me a little about the town and where to find what?”

Nodding, she said, “Sure. Will noon work?” Without waiting for his agreement, she said, “Emergency numbers are on the fridge. I’m going to add my number real quick, just in case something comes up.” Using the pen she’d given him to sign the four-month agreement, she jotted a number at the bottom of a long list that included police, fire department, hospital, and food delivery. As she hurriedly turned away to head for the door, she said, “Remote is with the TV. Outside lights are automatic, dusk to dawn. Hot water doesn’t last too long, which is something I found out the hard way, so you might want to shower before doing any laundry. Oh, and Cort likes to make sure the basics are already in the kitchen cupboards, and some necessities are in the fridge. If you need anything else before noon tomorrow, just let me know.”

After saying all that, she practically clamped her mouth shut and rushed off as if being chased.

In case he’d somehow made her uncomfortable, he trailed more slowly behind her. The last thing he wanted from her was wariness.

“See you tomorrow,” he said as she all but jogged to her van.

With a careless wave, she got in the vehicle and left.

Brogan stood there with the baby in his arms and watched as her taillights went down the road, then turned into another driveway. She was nearby, yet there was some property between them. A nice arrangement.

Presumptuous as it might be, he already imagined Pixie in their future, his and Shayna’s. She had a good heart; that much was clear. She wouldn’t deny them.

The only problem might be Cort. Pixie was obviously close to the man. Because Cort had a military background, he was bound to be protective. That meant he wouldn’t like Brogan’s plans.

The baby stirred, rubbing her button nose against his shirt, stretching a bit, then settling in again. He decided he’d deal with the issue of Cort when it became necessary. He wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.

“Now,” Brogan said, his palm moving up and down the baby’s narrow back. “It’s time for you, Sugar—and our fresh start.” He brushed his mouth over her downy crown, inhaled her sweet, comforting scent, and headed back inside.

It was time to get started.

Pixie kept remembering how bizarrely she’d acted last night. Chatty when she usually wasn’t. Bossy about his baby, as if he hadn’t already proven his competence. She’d been ridiculous.

A call from Cort saved her from further self-castigation. She set Andy in his playpen and answered the phone by saying, “Aren’t you supposed to be off having fun?”

“We are,” he countered. “Marlow told me to say hello.”

“Hello to you both.”

“I just wanted to check whether the renter showed up.”

“Yes, he’s all checked in. Did you know he has a baby?”

After the briefest pause, Cort said, “I wasn’t aware, but it’s not a problem.”

Bull. Cort researched everyone who stayed at the lake house. More so, now that she and Marlow lived nearby. “Did you know he’s a Navy SEAL?”

“Yes, it was in the background info he gave in his rental application. But how do you know?”

“He told me.”

Another pause. “How exactly did that come up?”

She gave Cort a quick rerun of the conversation, then explained, “I think he wanted me to know why he hadn’t met his daughter sooner. Does the military really keep fathers from being present for births?”

“Not deliberately, but being on active duty can make it tough to get away.”

“So, like, you think he was on a mission or something?”

Cort exhaled. “Word of warning, hon, most military guys don’t want to talk about their experiences—at least that’s true of the Marines and SEALs I’ve known. It’d be best if you put a lid on your curiosity.”

“Okay.” Guilt flushed her face, and she fanned a hand at herself. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No accusations from me. I know you, remember? Just cluing you in, in case you see the guy again.”

She bit her lip, then admitted, “I’ll see him again shortly. He had some questions about the town. You know, where to eat and shop, touristy stuff, things like that.”

The silence was damning.

And this time, it got to her. “What?”

“You’re a smart woman, Pixie, and a good judge of character. I’ll just say to tread carefully, okay?”

“You don’t like the idea of me being alone with him?” Funny, but she hadn’t even considered the risk. He was a renter. Like her, he obviously loved his child. Like Cort, he had a military background. “Andy and his daughter will be there, too.”

“Right. Just keep alert, okay? With Marlow and me gone, you’re there alone. In fact, I might ask Herman to keep an eye on things.”

“You mean keep an eye on me.” She rolled her eyes even as she smiled. It was nice to have people concerned about her and Andy. That hadn’t always been the case. Now that she had such terrific people in her life, she would never take them for granted.

“That too,” Cort said.

“I was going to suggest that Brogan try out his food anyway.” Herman ran the Dry Frog Tavern, and his burgers, pizzas, and appetizers were, in her opinion, the very best. Plus, the tavern gave newcomers a great feel for the town, and Brogan could meet a lot of locals there. “But, Cort?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for caring.”

“It’s what family does. Hey, Marlow wants to say hi. Hang on.”

Marlow was nowhere near as quiet and contained as Cort. “Tell me everything.”

Laughing, Pixie teased, “Everything about what?”

“Not what, who. The new guy. I could tell by Cort’s posture that something’s going on.”

As she paced around the room, Pixie kept her eye on Andy. He sat in the playpen, stacking, unstacking, and rearranging his building blocks. The sight of him never failed to make her heart feel full.

Because this was Marlow, and Pixie could tell her anything, she whispered, “He’s gorgeous, but also a dad, and I don’t think he’s married, but he hasn’t actually said, so for now—really, I mean it, Marlow—I’m just being neighborly.”

“Say that all you want, but I hear it in your voice. You’re interested, and I’m cheering you on.”

“Hello? Did you hear a word I said?”

“I heard every word, smart-ass, and I know exactly what you’re thinking. But that whole debacle was a lifetime ago, and since then you haven’t shown the slightest interest in men. They’re not all bad, you know. They’re not all him.”

“Yes,” Pixie quietly admitted. “I know.” Cort was the perfect example. He was a dedicated husband to Marlow, a loyal friend to Pixie, and an amazing protector for Andy. “I guess … I am slightly interested?”

“You are.”

She was. After the debacle, as Marlow had put it, Pixie had sworn off men forever. Lived the disaster, learned from it, never planned to repeat it again.

That she’d been involved with a married man, even if she hadn’t known he was married, still shamed her. But good things had come out of that awful ordeal. She had Andy now, she’d met Marlow and Cort, and she’d found her independence. Good things. Wonderful things. Yet she never again wanted to be that naïve, or that gullible.

She’d met men she liked as friends, many of them in the small town where she now lived. But the very idea of risking her heart again … Well, it terrified her.

Somehow, with Brogan, she’d forgotten her fear.

“I think it’s that he’s so good with his daughter.”

“Always a great sign,” Marlow agreed. “So here’s what you should do.”

In the background, Cort said, “I already told her what to do. Caution, honey. We don’t know the man yet.”

Pixie grinned. “Tell Cort to enjoy his vacation instead of worrying about me. I promise, I won’t give him any reason to worry.”

In a whisper, Marlow said, “It’s good for him to worry every now and then. Keeps his instincts sharp.”

Cort said, “They’re razor sharp, and you know it.”

“He’s still listening,” Pixie informed Marlow, in case she hadn’t figured that out.

“I’m overruling him. When you see Brogan again, ask him flat out if he’s married. If he doesn’t have a quick, ready answer, then you’ll know not to trust him.”

Cort’s voice was louder now, indicating he’d moved close to the phone. “Liars always have their stories ready. Go with your gut, Pixie, but I can tell you, a military man won’t appreciate being pinned down. As much as I love my wife, and as intelligent as she is, she’s wrong about this.”

“Men always think women are wrong.”

“A truism? Really, Marlow.”

Since Pixie was used to the way they worked things out, she took a seat near Andy and just listened in. It was awesome that Marlow never hesitated to speak her mind, and Cort always shared his perspective. She’d never seen them actually mad at each other. Irked a few times, sure. They had their disagreements. But there was never any doubt about their love.

If she ever did have another romantic relationship—and Pixie doubted she would—she’d want it to be as open and loving as what Marlow and Cort shared.

In his usual calm tone, which sometimes riled Marlow, Cort said, “I’ll admit, with most people you’re spot-on. But we’re talking an elite military operator and that’s a whole different breed.”

“Hmm,” Marlow said. “You could have a point.”

Pixie heard the sound of a smooch, and then, “I do.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

Laughing out loud, Pixie asked, “Are you two done debating my next move?”

“I guess so, but I want you to keep me posted, okay? I agree with Cort about using caution. The new guy will be around for the entire summer, so you have plenty of time to see how it goes.”

“I approve that plan,” Cort said. “Now come on, Marlow. We’re running late.”

Pixie glanced at the time on her phone. “Oops. Actually, I am, too. Thanks for calling, and have fun.”

“Love you, sister.”

She and Marlow weren’t actually sisters, b. . .