Page 54 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“Only a few days ago, you were railing against it, Luke,” Natalie said, her eyes still on him.

“Well, I’ve changed my mind,” he countered. “Anyone who’s willing to tackle that boathouse renovation deserves some credit. Most folks would’ve taken one look and run back to wherever they came from. I’m helping with the structural work, and I can tell you now, the project’s sound.”

Sophie glanced at him with a grateful smile that did stupid things to his pulse. “Luke’s been absolutely brilliant, actually,” she said, her eyes deep in his.

“I bet he has,” Caleb stage-whispered, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Very hands-on approach to customer service, our Luke.”

A few snickers echoed through the crowd, and Luke felt heat crawl up his neck like he was seventeen again and getting caught making out behind the marina. Sophie’s cheeks went even pinker but she was still smiling, still standing tall in front of a room full of people who were probably wondering what the hell a British girl was thinking, buying a falling-down boathouse and expecting to make a living selling books.

Luke found himself hoping like hell she’d prove them all wrong.

—

When the meeting finally broke up, Luke stood and stretched muscles that had been protesting the metal chair for the past hour.

“Overwhelming?” he asked as they headed for the door.

“Fascinating,” Sophie corrected. “Like watching a really complicated family dinner where everyone knows each other’s secrets but still chooses to sit at the same table.”

Luke nodded. “That’s not far off.”

They stepped outside into the cool spring air, the lake stretching before them, calm and dark under the star-scattered sky.

Jake appeared at his elbow.

“Evening, folks,” he said with a grin that meant trouble. “You survive your first taste of Solace Springs democracy, London?”

“Barely,” Sophie laughed. “I had no idea rusty nails could be so…contentious.”

“Wait until the next budget meeting,” Jake said. “Caleb once filibustered for forty-seven minutes about the font choice for the welcome signs. ’Course, our boy Luke here usually just sits in the back and broods silently. Tonight was downright chatty for him.”

Luke gave him a look but Jake just shot him a lopsided smile back.

“So, looks like the sheriff has finally confirmed he thinks the break-ins and the island fire are all connected?” he said, keen to change the subject before his friend got too mischievous.

Jake took the bait and nodded. “Sure looks like it. Seems whoever’s doing it all is looking for something, too.”

“Any idea what they might be after?” Sophie asked.

Jake shook his head, but something nagged at Luke. Property records, maybe? Old deeds? Solace Springs had the kind of complicated ownership history that could hide secrets. Hell, half the families in town had boundary disputes going back generations.

Mabel called Sophie over then, leaving Luke and Jake alone.

“So,” Jake said the moment Sophie was out of earshot, that shit-eating grin spreading across his face again. “You and the British bookshop lady. Things getting serious?”

“Mind your own business,” Luke said.

“Come on, man. You were practically glued to her side all night. Very un-Luke-like behavior.” Jake leaned against the wall of the community center, clearly settling in for an interrogation. “You hitting that or what?”

“Hitting that? We fifteen again?”

“Jesus, you are hitting that.”

Luke rolled his eyes. Jake could come across as crude as a rusty anchor, all cocky grins and smart-ass comments that rubbed some folks the wrong way. But Luke had known him since they were kids and underneath all that swagger was a good man who’d give you the shirt off his back without thinking twice. Times had been rough for Jake since the divorce—watching him try to navigate the world of being newly single while pretending his heart wasn’t shattered into a thousand pieces was like watching a man learn to walk again after losing a leg. All that talk about Sophie and relationships? Jake’s way of living vicariously through someone else’s happiness while his own life felt like it was held together with duct tape and stubbornness.

“So what’s the plan?” Jake asked. “Please tell me you’re not going to screw this up with your usual romantic eloquence.”

“You can talk.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m taking her to dinner tonight. The Lakeside Bistro.”