Page 53 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“We’ve had four confirmed incidents in the past two weeks,” the sheriff reported. “Museum, general store, and two private residences. No major damage, minimal theft. Whoever’s doing this seems to be searching for something specific.”

“What kind of something?” Grace asked, unconsciously moving closer to Zach.

“Hard to say. Papers scattered, drawers rifled through, but electronics and valuables left untouched.”

“Probably teenagers,” proclaimed Natalie with an eye roll as she looked at Zach. “That’s what happens when parents don’t discipline properly. In my day—”

“In your day?” Grace interrupted with the exhausted patience of a woman who’d heard this lecture before. “You’re only thirty-five, Natalie, Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Jake added, “and I seem to recall sneaking a smoke behind the school with you and damn near torching half the county. Still got the scorch marks to prove it.”

Natalie bristled like an offended porcupine. “Well, I never—”

“Enough!” Abe’s voice cracked like a whip. “This isn’t helpful. Jake, what about the fire on the island?”

“Looks like a small campfire that got out of control,” Jake said, “but the set-up was deliberately hidden from view.”

The sheriff nodded. “Could be connected to the break-ins, could be separate. We’re investigating.”

A murmur went up around the room and Sophie felt Luke tense beside her.

“We’ve increased patrols,” the sheriff said over the sound, “but everyone should remain vigilant. Lock your doors, report anything unusual.”

As the sheriff continued detailing the break-ins while offering advice to women living alone, Sophie felt Luke’s shoulder press against hers, solid and warm. She’d noticed how his posture had changed entirely now the topic of the fire and the break-ins had started, from casual observer to something far more primal. Sophie’s breath caught as his hand found the back of her chair, his arm creating a protective barrier behind her shoulders. The gesture was subtle enough that no one else would notice, but to Sophie it felt monumental.

Heat pooled low in her belly as she became hyper-aware of everything about them: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the barely restrained power in his large frame. She wanted to lean into that strength, to feel those arms wrap around her properly, to let this big bear of a man shield her from whatever shadows were lurking around Solace Springs.

When she risked a glance up at him, she found his blue eyes already on her, dark with something that made her pulse race. For a heartbeat, the town meeting faded away entirely, leaving just the two of them and the promise of what those protective hands might feel like on her skin.

Twenty-Four

Luke

As Luke held Sophie’s gaze, he shifted uncomfortably in his tiny folding chair, trying to ignore the way her knee kept brushing against his. The woman had no idea what that casual contact was doing to his concentration, which was already hanging by a thread in this overheated circus masquerading as civic discourse.

He couldn’t stop stealing glances at her. She looked like she’d stepped out of some British garden party catalog in that floral dress that hugged every curve Luke had been trying not to think about. He tried to distract himself by watching the town through Sophie’s eyes. Yeah, they were loud and opinionated and stuck in their ways. But they also showed up for each other. When Isabel’s baby started fussing, three different people offered to hold him. When Margaret struggled to hear Abe, Grace automatically moved to sit beside her and repeat the important parts. When Caleb got too dramatic about the break-in threat, Mikkel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and somehow conveyed “dial it back, darling” without saying a word.

This was Luke’s community. Messy, chaotic, infuriating as hell most days. But they’d shown up tonight because someone was threatening their peace, and they’d figure out how to handle it together, just like they always did.

“Speaking of new developments,” Abe said, his voice cutting through the chatter like an anchor chain. “As some of you know by now, we have a new resident among us.” His pale blue eyes found Sophie in the crowd. “Sophie Bennett, all the way from England. Be sure to make her feel welcome, folks. I understand you’ll be turning the old boathouse into a bookshop. How about you stand up, introduce yourself, say a few words?”

Sophie stood and Luke caught the slight tremor in her fingers before she pressed them together. The motion pulled the fabric of that damn dress tighter across her hips, and Luke had to force himself to focus on her face instead of the shape of her body that the evening light was highlighting. Christ, even nervous she was something to look at. Her chin came up in that stubborn way he was learning to recognize.

“Okaaaaaay, thanks for that, Abe,” Sophie began. “I’m Sophie and yep, I’m planning to open a bookshop in the old boathouse. In fact, you can all be the first to hear what I’ve decided to call it: The Cherry Blossom Bookshop because, well”—she gestured toward the window where the cherry trees were visible—“those trees are absolutely gorgeous and I’m not about to pretend they don’t exist just to be original!”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and Luke felt his mouth twitch. There she was, turning what could’ve been a simple business announcement into a story.

“I’m hoping to open by Solstice Serenade weekend,” she continued, “though that might be wildly optimistic considering I spent my first morning here testing the lake’s temperature in a rather undignified fashion.” More laughter now and Sophie’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “The plan is to create a proper community bookshop with lots of events. Plus I want to make sure you can actually find what you’re looking for; me being me, everything will be properly organized by genre, author, and possibly emotional impact level.”

That got a proper laugh, especially from the knitting circle ladies, who were nodding approvingly. But Luke also caught the frowns scattered through the crowd: folks who looked like they were still making up their minds about this British transplant with her fancy ideas.

Natalie Robinson, who’d been the same year of school with him and still acted like she owned the place, arched one of those perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Wow,” she said, voice dripping with the kind of sweetness that meant trouble. “That’s certainly ambitious, Sophie. I hope you’ve done your research on what kinds of businesses actually survive around here.”

Luke watched the tops of Sophie’s cheeks pinken. He felt his jaw clench. Sure, he’d had his own doubts about her chances—still did, if he was being honest. But hearing someone else voice them, seeing that flash of uncertainty cross Sophie’s features, made him feel deeply protective.

“Actually,” Luke found himself saying, “Sophie’s got solid plans. I’ve seen the business projections, the renovation timeline. She’s not just winging this.” He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, the way he’d talk about boat specs or weather patterns. But inside, he was feeling anything but.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Grace nodding emphatically. “Luke’s right,” she said. “Anyway, the town could use a proper bookshop.”