Page 56 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“You kinda did with the discount you promised,” Luke grumbled.

Victoria’s gaze swept over Sophie. “You must be the British girl who bought the Chens’ place.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I must say, I was quite surprised Julie chose to sell that historic property to an…outsider.” Sophie felt Luke tense beside her as Victoria continued. “The boathouse district has been in the same families for generations. Tradition matters here in Solace Springs.” She emphasized “tradition” as if it were a secret password Sophie would never know.

“Good thing I’m big on traditions myself,” Sophie replied cheerfully. “Like the British tradition of afternoon tea and the universal tradition of welcoming newcomers.”

Luke smirked as Victoria raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if you’ll follow me,” she said, leading them to a table by the window. Luke pulled out Sophie’s chair, the gesture so automatic it suggested his family had drilled manners into him from birth.

“Our chef has prepared a spring tasting menu tonight,” Victoria told them. “Fresh fiddlehead ferns, lake trout with cherry blossom glaze, and some delightful spring lamb. I’ll bring you both a glass of our house wine to start.”

She headed off and Luke’s eyes darted around the restaurant as his knee bounced under the table, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the tablecloth.

He was just so out of place here!

Sophie sighed and set her menu down. “Luke, you look about as comfortable as a cat at a dog show.”

He let out a low and very hot chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t do restaurants much. Especially fancy ones.”

“Fancy?” Sophie laughed. “This is positively casual by London standards. I once went to a place where they served soup as a foam and the dessert came with its own soundtrack.”

Luke winced. “Sounds like my personal nightmare.”

“It was my personal nightmare, too. The soundtrack was experimental jazz and the foam tasted like disappointment with a hint of pretension.”

That earned her a real laugh, brief but rich, like dark chocolate. The sound made Sophie glow inside.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No! Seriously, I—”

“Admit it, you brought me here because you thought, as a Londoner, I’d prefer a pretentious restaurant.”

He opened his mouth to protest but then sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“If it were up to you, where would you go to eat right now?”

Luke hesitated. “Ray’s food truck, parked up on the cliff road. Best view in town.”

“Ray, as in the Ray who nearly saw me naked yesterday?”

Luke smiled wickedly at the memory then nodded. “The same one. He gets his catch in the morning—not usually where we were yesterday morning—works as an electrician until the afternoon then he preps his food. He does a roll called Ray’s Hook, Line, and Solace this time of year. Uses his grandmother’s recipe with trout, sweet butter, garlic, and just enough seasoning to let the fish shine. It’s—” He stopped, looking almost embarrassed by his enthusiasm.

“It’s what?” Sophie prompted.

“It’s real,” he said simply. “No fuss, no foam, just good food done right.”

Sophie stood up, grabbing her cardigan from the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked.

“We’re leaving, obviously. I want one of Ray’s legendary rolls.”

Luke’s face lit up. “Hell yeah. We’ll need to go by boat, though; it’s the other side of the lake.”

Ten minutes later, they were gliding across the dark lake on Luke’s boat, Coral making herself at home on Sophie’s lap. The sad look in the dog’s eyes gazing at them through the window when they’d picked up the boat was just too much to resist, so Sophie insisted she join them. Coral was now shooting Luke these impossibly smug little glances, as if to say, “See? Our new neighbor likes me best.”

“Want to steer her there?” Luke asked.