Page 13 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

Luke gave his old friend a sharp look. “Exactly why I’m not getting involved. Been there, done that, got the emotional scars to prove it.”

Jake was quiet for a moment, watching the last of the sun sink behind the houses across the lake. “You know not everyone’s Claire, right?”

“Wasn’t even thinking about Claire.”

“Hmmm.”

“Anyway, I’ve got my hands full keeping this lake the way it should be. Don’t need complications.”

“Right. Because you’re such a simple, uncomplicated guy.” Jake’s voice dripped sarcasm. “That why you’re sitting out here brooding and watching her window?”

“I’m not watching her window. I’m watching the sunset.”

“Oh yeah, you’re really convincing me, bud.” Jake stood up, stretching. “Better head back. Just wanted to check in. But see you for some beers at the Spring Awakening next weekend?”

“Maybe. I’ll see.”

Jake’s laugh echoed across the water as he headed back down the dock. “Try not to scowl too much. It puts wrinkles on that pretty face of yours.”

Luke waited until his friend was out of earshot before muttering to Coral’s sleeping form, “Jackass. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

But his eyes drifted back to Sophie’s place anyway. She’d moved to her bedroom balcony now, leaning on the railing with a mug of something steaming in one hand, book in the other. The sight did something to him, made him hot and hungry.

Tomorrow morning, he’d take her to the island, show her the driftwood, keep things professional. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Coral chose that moment to wake up and peer at him, giving him a look that suggested she wasn’t buying his bullshit.

“Not a word,” he told her. “Not one damn word.”

Seven

Sophie

“I still can’t believe the estate agent’s photos were that misleading.” Lisa’s voice crackled through Sophie’s phone, the background noise of a Brighton pub bleeding through. Of course her sister would be video-calling her while out having lunchtime drinks in a busy pub while Sophie was frantically preparing for a sunrise boat ride. They’d always been opposites that way—Lisa chasing the next adventure while Sophie packed for holidays three months in advance. But somehow that had made them even closer growing up, like two sides of the same coin. “Is it really as bad as you said in your texts?” Lisa asked.

Sophie adjusted her phone against her shoulder as she frantically searched her suitcase for something that qualified as “practical and warm” by American lake standards. “Remember that aesthetic fixer-upper cottage we drove past on our way to the Cotswolds last year? This is like that, except replace ‘charming vintage features’ with ‘actual holes in the walls.’ ”

“Christ.” There was a shuffling sound, followed by Lisa’s muffled voice ordering another gin and tonic. “And you actually slept the night there? Alone?”

“Well, ‘slept the night’ might be generous. More like huddled in a sleeping bag while making a mental list of every part of my body that might get frostbite first.” Sophie held up a soft yellow sweater with a pretty teacup sitting on top of a pile of books on its front, debating if it was thick enough to combat pre-dawn lake winds. She glanced out of her bedroom window at Luke’s boathouse, where a light had just flickered on. “Besides, I have bigger problems than that.”

“Like potentially losing your toes to hypothermia?”

Sophie smiled. “That and the fact that I have to get on a boat with my new neighbor in”—she checked her watch—“twenty minutes.”

“Ah yes, the hot neighbor who tried to run you out of town yesterday. Totally normal sunrise activity.”

Sophie groaned, yanking her hairbrush through her wild dark curls. “I know how it sounds. But it’s not like that. I can’t let it be like that.”

“Because…?”

“Because the last thing I need right now is to fall for another man who’ll just end up telling me I’m not enough.” The words came out in an unexpected rush.

“Oh babe,” Lisa said with a sigh as she shoved a drunken man trying to get in on the shot. “Marcus was a pretentious twat who thought writing coffee shop reviews made him Jack Kerouac.”

Sophie couldn’t help smiling, but the familiar ache in her chest remained. “Maybe. But I’m so done with men, especially judgmental know-it-alls who’ve already decided I’m some clueless city girl who doesn’t belong here.” She gestured helplessly at the window, watching as Luke appeared from his boathouse and began coiling thick mooring ropes, his chunky white fisherman’s sweater making him look inconveniently handsome. “At least Marcus pretended to respect me for a few months before showing his true colors.”

“Oh my God, you’re doing The Look.”