“So paint it.”
“I can’t, silly. I don’t have my easel or my paints.”
He pointed to her humongous bag. “Use your sketch pad and your colored pencils. Take your time. We can sit here as long as you want.”
Her hand fluttered to her necklace, and she began twiddlingwith her mother’s rings. “No.” She shook her head while keeping her eyes focused on the heavens above them. “Not tonight.” She turned her attention back to him and smiled, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s head back.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “It’s getting a little chilly.”
He started the engine before piloting the boat back to the dock. After tying it up, he climbed out and then held his hand out to her. Emily threaded her fingers with his and allowed him to guide her up onto the dock.
“Thanks for the ride, Captain Hughes.”
He chuckled, and she released his hand before bumping his side.
They headed down the path, using the flashlights on their phones to guide their way. When they reached the path leading to her former childhood home, she hesitated.
“Do you want to walk over to your old house?” Jake rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”
She craned her neck over her shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, but no.”
They continued until they reached the turnoff for his house. When they stopped, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
“Good night,” she whispered before hurrying toward his parents’ house.
Emily flipped Jake’s radio to the oldies station and began singing with The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations.” The sky above them was cloudy, and a pleasant breeze drifted in from their open windows. It was Tuesday morning, and they’d just left the home improvement store after filling the bed of his truckwith sheets of plywood and other supplies to continue fixing the barn walls.
When she snuck a glance at Jake, she spotted him resting his left arm on the truck door while he steered with his right hand. He wore his usual Mets ball cap, and he tapped his fingers along with the beat of the song.
She leaned toward him. “So you actually like the oldies, but you don’t want to admit it.”
“What?” He scoffed. “No way.”
She pointed to his left arm. “I have proof. You’re enjoying it.”
He shook his head.
“You’re going to let me help build the walls on the barn today, right?” she asked. “Having me ‘supervise,’” she continued, making air quotes with her fingers, “is insulting to everyone of my gender. I’m capable of hitting a nail. Don’t you remember when I built that diorama of the town square for art class in middle school? That required a hammer and nails, and I escaped without injury and got an A.” She lifted her chin.
He stopped at a stop sign and faced her, his grin making her want to melt into the bench seat. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
Oh yeah. Just call her a puddle, because she was definitely liquefying after that compliment.
But wait—he avoided her question!
“Jake, are you going to let me help or what?”
He accelerated through the intersection. “We’ll see.”
She harrumphed. “Such a nonanswer,” she muttered.
He snickered and drove up a hill. When he came down the other side, a small dark sedan was parked by the side of the road with the trunk opened. An older man squatted beside the rear driver-side tire and seemed to be struggling to loosen the lug nuts.
“Is that Mr. Tompkins?” Emily asked.
“I think so.” Jake slowed the truck and parked behind the sedan before flipping on his hazard lights and climbing out. “Sir, do you need help?” he called.
Emily hopped out of the passenger seat and met him at the back of the sedan.
The older man stood and swiped his hand over his balding head. “Why, Jake Hughes. Good to see you, son.” He nodded at Emily and then held up the tire iron. “I can’t get these old lug nuts to budge. I’d sure appreciate it if you gave it a try.”
