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I roll my eyes. "It's not like that. I only met her once. But she's stuck in my head."
Tommy groans. "Great, another one of Hart's tragic love stories. Who is she?"
"Sarah," I answer, and her name feels like a weight on my tongue.
I can still remember how she tasted.
I don't think I'll ever forget.
Tommy nods, clearly amused. "Well, I hope Sarah is thinking about you too, mate. But maybe it's time to move on, find someone new. Plenty of willing women in port."
I shake my head, the memory of Sarah still fresh in my mind. "I can't just forget about her. It's not that easy."
Tommy shrugs. "I get it, but you can't keep living in the past forever. Maybe it's time to start looking for someone new, someone who's actually available."
I sigh, knowing that Tommy is right. But even with that knowledge, I can't seem to shake the memory of Sarah. She's like a drug, addicting and impossible to resist.
As we continue to weather the storm, I find myself lost in my thoughts, wondering about Sarah and where she might be now. Maybe I'll see her again one day in Fern Hollow, but until then, I'll just have to live with the memory of her.
Chapter eight
Sarah
Summerisjustaroundthe corner in Fern Hollow.
And that meansweddings.
The months slide into each other as I make the trek down to Portland, over to other towns. I frequent old barns, people's houses, parks, fancy wedding venues, and the like. I take meetings with bakers, florists, caterers...
...and by the time I get a chance to breathe, it's summer.
The weekend of the Hart's Fourth of July celebration, in fact.
Apparently Teresa Hart--the matriarch of the whole bunch--used to throw a big Fourth shindig back in Texas every year, and now that they live here, she's starting the tradition up again. I pack a bag with a towel and sunscreen, and I hop into my retro polka dot swimsuit to drive up to Conifer Lake. The Harts have a campsite up there, right around the corner from the work site where Grayson Hart has been contracted to build some cottages.
As I pull up to the campsite, I can hear the lively chatter of the Hart family. The smell of barbecue and sunscreen mixes in the air, and I can't help but feel excited for the festivities that are about to unfold.
Until I catch sight of the big, broad-shouldered guy at the grill.
Jake Hart.
I haven't seen or heard from him since Piper and Jesse's wedding, but he hasn't left my thoughts a single night. Mostly because no one hasevermade me orgasm like that--and he's the type I would normally consider way out of my league. I've waffled back and forth between being grateful he kept things casual, being angry he didn't reach out, and being sad that maybe, he regretted what happened between us.
But as I approach him now, I feel a spark ignite between us once again. He turns around like he can sense my presence, dressed in a pair of plain black board shorts and a loose navy tank, his beard bushier than the last time I saw him and his hair unkempt. He's tan, fuckinggorgeous, and ripped.
Whatever work he's been doing, he wears it damn well.
He gives me a sly grin, his eyes dark with desire, and I feel my cheeks flush in response. But before I can get closer and put my foot in my mouth, Reagan's kid comes trundling toward me, flinging his hands around my knees.
"Auntie Sarah!" he shrieks. "You came!"
I smile and crouch down, giving him a big hug. "Hey, Ryan! Of course I came! I told you I would! I'm just sorry I didn't come a few minutes earlier. I hear you guys set off all the fireworks already?"
He shakes his head, his eyes shining bright blue. "Not yet, silly. We have to do them at night!"
I smile. "Well, maybe I can help you guys later!"
"That'd be so cool!"
