Page 7 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

Sophie eased the door shut behind them and turned in a slow circle, letting the space sink in. Sunlight streamed through the huge window dominating the west wall that looked out at the lake, as well as the two smaller windows at the front of the house. If she squinted, she could almost ignore the cracked glass and the peeling paint. Almost. Still, she decided then and there that “bright and airy” was going to be her official first impression, not “drafty and possibly a health and safety hazard.”

She headed to the back of the main living space, ducking under the shadow of the upstairs landing, and pushed into the kitchen. Small, yes, but workable. The seller had kindly left a few appliances behind: an oven with a dial that stuck, a fridge that made a noise like an old man snoring, and cupboards that gaped like crooked teeth. No kettle, though. Typical.

She stared at the little round porthole window over the sink, framing a perfect circle of lake, and then at the back door that opened onto a deck so weather-beaten it looked one step away from retirement. But in her mind she was already standing out there with her morning tea.

She left the kitchen and headed up the spiral wooden staircase, stepping onto the balcony that overlooked the living area. From that elevated position, the great arched window painted shifting patterns over the dusty boards. She smiled. It was like living inside her very own kaleidoscope—if kaleidoscopes also came with cracked panes.

She walked the hallway, poking her head into the smaller bedroom first. Damp smell? Yes. Bare walls? Definitely. But all she could see was a sweet guest room in the making. The bathroom was another story: a rusty tub crouching beneath a window so clogged with cobwebs she half expected a tarantula to greet her, a loo that looked more ornamental than functional, and tiles stained the sort of yellow no cleaning spray in the world was going to shift. Still, nothing a sledgehammer couldn’t fix.

Finally she stepped into the master bedroom. Bigger, brighter and with a balcony that made her breath catch. She stepped out, breathing in the spring lake air. To the left, Solace Lake glittered like a promise. To the right was…Luke’s dock.

She paused to watch as he methodically smoothed the kayak’s wood with sandpaper, like every move had been practiced a thousand times. A breeze rippled across the lake, lifting his dark hair from his forehead. Sophie caught her breath. He really was rather beautiful, even with that frown of his, which only deepened whenever he glanced at her boathouse, like he was expecting it to collapse any second.

Not going to happen, Harbor Hottie, Sophie thought. She had four thousand believers, a head full of dreams, and now, finally, a place that felt like home.

Then she caught a whiff of something…something that was coming from her. She gave herself a sniff and nearly barfed.

“Ergh, I smell like fish!”

It must have been from the lake dunk. She went into the bathroom and twisted the shower knob to test it. The pipes groaned like they were auditioning for a horror movie, then spat out a stream of something brown that definitely wasn’t water.

Great. Now she’d have to go ask Mr. Grumpy-But-Gorgeous if there was a gym in town where she could shower.

Just rip off the Band-Aid, Sophie. She marched back outside, channeling her inner girlboss despite smelling like the seafood aisle. She approached Luke, trying not to get distracted by the way the muscles in his forearm flexed as he continued down the wood.

He looked up at her approach.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a gym in town, would you?” she asked. “With, um, shower facilities? My shower’s producing some kind of brown sludge.”

Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’ll be the rust. The pipes haven’t been used in a coupla years, so whatever’s sitting in them would’ve turned nasty. You’ll need a plumber to flush the system.”

“Right. I’ll add that to the list. But my immediate thought is getting rid of this fish smell,” she said, sniffing at herself.

Luke grimaced. “Oh. Yeah, Ray dropped his bait container about an hour ago. He cleaned it up, but…” He gestured vaguely at her. “The smell lingers. No gym until the next town, though.” He paused a moment, getting a look on his face like he was wrestling with some thoughts. Then he gave a resigned sigh. “You can take a shower at my place, if you want,” he mumbled.

Sophie briefly thought about turning the offer down. After all, he wasn’t exactly welcoming her with open arms. But what choice did she have?

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yep. Just head inside, there’s a downstairs shower room, first door on the right. Just make sure you close the door properly else Coral will get in with you, she’s clingy like that.”

“Coral.”

He gestured to the window where the dog was staring out at them with soulful eyes.

“Oh my God, she’s adorable,” she said.

“Yeah, she thinks it, too.”

Sophie grabbed her suitcase then paused a beat before adding: “Bet you didn’t think your day would involve inviting a woman smelling of fish into your shower.”

The words hung in the air for a moment too long, and Sophie immediately regretted her choice of phrasing. Luke’s eyebrow shot up, then a slow, wicked smile spread across his face, the kind that could make anyone question their life choices.

“Can’t say that was on my to-do list,” he drawled, his voice full of heat and amusement. Then he blinked, frowned, and looked right back at his kayak, face flushing.

Sophie’s cheeks flamed too as she practically fled toward his boathouse, inwardly cursing her big mouth. The door shut behind her, but she could still feel the weight of Luke’s gaze burning into her skin.

“Brilliant start, Sophie. Just brilliant.” As she tried to collect herself, a sharp bark cut through the silence. She looked down to find Coral staring up at her. The little dog’s chestnut-and-white coat was glossy and immaculately groomed, her head tilted with an expression of polite curiosity.