Page 72 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“You said this was just for your portfolio. Social media content.” His voice tight as a mooring line in a storm. “This looks like a whole goddamn proposal.”

“It is,” Claire insisted, tucking her black hair behind her ear. “But the company’s been getting interest from investors. Serious interest, from people with deep pockets. Imagine what it could do for this community. This little economy! This project could—”

“It’s not a project, Claire. It’s people’s homes. Their businesses. Their lives.”

“It’ll create opportunities, Luke. This lake has so much potential, but it’s trapped in the past. Your past.” Reaching for his hand. “We could be part of something amazing.”

“So who are these investors your boss reckons he’s sweet-talked, then?” he asked, pulling back. “Where’d they come from?”

“Does it matter? They’ve got vision. And money. They see what I see.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“A chance to bring this place into the current century.” That look in her blue eyes. The one she got when she was about to do something impulsive. “Make it a destination. Real restaurants, boutiques. Culture, Luke.”

“We have culture.”

“Bingo night at the fire station isn’t culture. I’m talking about art galleries, cocktail bars.”

“So you want to turn Solace Springs into every other tourist trap in America.” Edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. “Strip away everything that makes it special and replace it with the same generic crap they have everywhere else.”

Claire’s face hardened. “You’re so afraid of change you can’t see the opportunities. This town is dying. My plan could save it.”

“Your plan would drown it.”

Laptop snapping shut like a steel trap. “I thought you’d support me. I thought you wanted what I wanted.” Then she’d walked out.

Luke let out a frustrated growl. History repeating itself. Different woman, same script. City girl with big plans for his lake. Plans backed by mystery money. Plans she hadn’t been straight about. Was the bookshop the first page? Would there be a chain of them next?

Maybe he was just part of the whole package. Another prop in Sophie’s social media campaign. Harbor aesthetic. Next she’d have him posing on the stern in a captain’s hat, playing authentic local color for her followers and financial backers.

And then she’d leave, like they always left.

That led him onto darker thoughts. Thoughts that involved his mother. The thing about his mother leaving was that he’d never seen it coming. Thirteen years old, and he’d thought she was permanent as the lake itself. She’d been born here, raised here, married his dad right out of high school. This was her home. Their home. The worst part was how easy it seemed for her. No tears, no looking back. Like thirteen years of his life, of their life together, was something she could just shrug off and walk away from. It had taught Luke the hardest lesson of all: if your own mother could decide you weren’t worth staying for, why wouldn’t anyone else feel the same?

Why wouldn’t Claire?

Why wouldn’t Sophie?

Luke drained the last of his beer and set the bottle in the sink with deliberate care. He needed to cool off. Clear his head.

But the sound of someone shouting jerked him out of the brooding.

Luke’s head snapped up, eyes scanning the darkness outside. Nothing moved on the dock. Nothing but—

There. A figure bolting by in the darkness. Then another shout. Sophie’s shout.

Protective instinct roared to life, drowning out everything else. “Sophie!” He was out the door and across the dock before the echo of his own voice faded, Coral barking behind him. Three long strides, hand already reaching for the knob, not bothering to knock. Door swinging wide, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Soph?”

Kitchen light on, broken glass everywhere. And Sophie, standing by the sink, arms wrapped around herself, face pale in the harsh light.

Luke crossed the room in two strides, hands running over her arms, her face, checking for injuries.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” The questions tumbled out, rough with fear.

“I’m okay. I just…I came home and found it like this. The window was already broken. I think I interrupted them because they ran out the back.”