Page 37 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Mabel said with a shrug. “One week into meeting my husband, we broke his parents’ bed with our antics.”

“Mabel, you little firecracker.”

“All I’m saying is, lake time works differently. A week here is like a month anywhere else.”

Sophie’s gaze drifted back to the island, where she could make out the speeding boat silhouetted against the flames. Somewhere on there was Luke, all solid strength and capable hands. Hands that had been on her waist, in her hair, cupping her breast with a delicious pressure that made her shiver even now.

“It’s just…” Sophie hesitated, not sure how to articulate the tangle of emotions Luke stirred in her. “I didn’t come here for this. I came to start a bookshop, to prove I could do something brave and unexpected. Not to fall for the first gorgeous man who fished me out of a lake.”

Mabel took a thoughtful sip of her punch. “Maybe the brave thing isn’t always what we think it is. Sometimes it’s easier to move across an ocean than to let someone see who you really are.”

Something about Mabel’s words landed in a tender spot. Sophie stared into her cup, watching cherry blossom petals floating on the surface spin in lazy circles.

“Look, I’ve known Luke his whole life,” Mabel continued, “and truth be told, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you tonight.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “Though come to think of it, maybe the universe did you a favor with that fire.”

“How’s that?”

“Luke tends to go all in when he commits to something—whether it’s a boat engine, a storm-damaged dock or, apparently, you.” Mabel raised an eyebrow. “After his mom left, he walled himself off completely. Now that those walls are starting to come down…”

“What?” Sophie prompted when Mabel trailed off.

“Just…maybe it’s not the worst thing to have a night to catch your breath. To make sure you both know what you’re getting into.” Mabel glanced toward the island. “Luke has roots here that go generations deep. This lake isn’t just where he lives. It’s who he is. To be sure about him, you need to be sure about this place, too. I don’t think he could cope with yet another person upping sticks.”

Sophie nodded slowly, a new clarity settling over her. What Mabel was saying made uncomfortable sense. For all her color-coded binders and five-year plans, when it came to romance, Sophie had the impulse control of a toddler in a sweet shop.

Solace Springs itself had been one massive impulse. Did she even know if she wanted to stay here permanently? The night before, she’d been fretting about the lack of decent Thai food delivery. Tomorrow, she might realize she couldn’t live without London’s tube system or shops that stayed open past 7 p.m.

And if she wasn’t absolutely certain this was her forever home, what right did she have to risk Luke’s heart? The man was as rooted to this lake as the cherry trees. Clearly his mother and then his ex had already done a number on him by leaving, and now here was Sophie, potentially about to become Claire 2.0: The British Edition.

God, listen to myself, she thought. As if a man who looked like he’d been carved from granite by an artist with a very generous chisel would be devastated by her potential departure. Luke Rhodes was hardly going to waste away pining for her if things didn’t work out. More likely he’d just grunt, fix another boat, and carry on with the next woman who fell into his lake.

“You’re a wise woman, Mabel,” Sophie said finally.

“I surely am,” Mabel replied. They both stood watching the fire for a while before Mabel eventually said: “You should get some rest. They’ll be at it for hours, making sure it doesn’t flare up.”

“Will the inn be okay?” she asked.

“Looks to be the other side of the hill from the inn,” Mabel said, squinting her eyes.

The walk back to Sophie’s boathouse was quiet, the path lit only by the occasional streetlamp and the three-quarter moon overhead. Sophie’s mind whirled with conflicting thoughts: desire for Luke warring with the practical voice that said rushing headlong into this relationship might not be the wisest course.

When she reached her dock, she paused to look across the water to where the boat drew closer to the island fire. Would he be okay? What if he was hurt?

The wretched way that thought made her feel spoke volumes: I am really falling for this man.

Sixteen

Luke

The journey to the island took less than ten minutes at full throttle even with five extra bodies on board, the bow of Luke’s boat cutting through the dark water with familiar ease. As they approached, the full extent of the fire became clear: a concentrated blaze at the foot of the hill where the oldest trees grew, flames reaching toward the night sky. Luckily, it was far enough away from the inn to not impact it.

“This isn’t natural,” Jake said grimly as Luke prepared to dock. “Something or someone started this.”

Luke nodded in agreement. “Question is, was it an accident or deliberate?”

He secured the boat, his mind racing. In all his years on this lake, he’d never seen a fire on the island. It was too isolated, too barren to attract campers. The only people who ever came out here were the inn’s guests, whose numbers were dwindling year by year, and locals who knew better than to leave campfires unattended, and they rarely stayed after dark.

Then he remembered the strange lights people had been reporting on that side of the island at night. That broken bottle, too. Could it all be connected?