Chapter 3 #2
Claire, and a few other friends to help him repaint the entire home before he moved in. It seemed like only yesterday that
they’d sat on the old beige carpet in the den and celebrated that the house had finally been painted. Emily could still smell
the scent of paint mixed with their half dozen pies from the pizza parlor in downtown Splendid Lake.
“Home sweet home,” Jake declared, gathering up their bag from the Splendid Kitchen and hopping out of the truck.
Emily followed him in through the front door and into a small foyer, where he hung his keys on a peg before moving to the
kitchen and setting their bag of food on the counter. The delicious aroma of burgers and fries tickled her nose as she dropped
her notepad on the table and hung her bag over the back of a chair.
She peeked into the den and spotted Dusty, Jake’s old black cat, curled up on the same brown sofa Emily had lounged on nearly a million times.
“Dusty!” Emily sang while rushing over to the kitty. “How are you?” Crouching down, she brushed her fingers over the cat’s
head. The feline rolled over to expose her chin, and Emily scratched while the kitty purred with delight.
Emily’s eyes flitted to the flat-screen television, which was bolted to the wall above a brown credenza. Next to the TV sat
a framed photo of Jake and Claire posing on the dock. Emily didn’t recognize the picture, but she assumed they were dressed
up for a wedding—possibly Claire’s cousin’s wedding, which Jake had mentioned they’d attended last spring.
Jake looked like he’d just walked out of a Brooks Brothers ad, wearing a dark blue suit coupled with a light blue shirt and
a blue tie a shade darker. Emily couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit, but as she studied the photo, she wished
he’d wear one more often. His hair was trimmed and perfectly styled, and he’d shaved, revealing that strong jawline and those
dazzling cheekbones. The entire ensemble complemented his baby-blue eyes while accentuating his wide chest, muscular biceps,
and tapered, trim waist. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and Emily suddenly felt a case of the vapers coming on.
Beside him in the photo, Claire looked perfect, as usual, in a simple green dress that matched her eyes. Her long blonde hair
was perfectly straight, which was something Emily could rarely accomplish with her wild dark waves—no matter how strong the
product or flat iron. Claire’s angelic face had the perfect amount of makeup. She wore cute wedge heels, and since she was
a few inches taller than Emily, Claire looked like she belonged beside Jake, who had his arm wrapped around Claire’s perfect
little waist.
They had always been the perfect couple. So perfect that it was nauseating.
Emily swallowed a sigh. She’d once longed to be Claire and garner all of Jake’s golden attention, but she’d realized that
was a ridiculous dream. Still, the heart wanted what it wanted, and hers still longed for Jake to allow her a chance to break
out of the friend zone.
“Do you like where I hung your painting?”
Jake’s question hauled Emily back from her ridiculously pathetic spiral. He had wandered over to the sofa.
She stood, and when he held out a french fry, she took it. Then he stared at her, as if he were awaiting an answer to a question.
What had he asked?
Oh right, the painting!
She snapped to attention while her eyes focused on the painting she’d sent him for Christmas hanging in a place of honor above
the television. She’d painted it partly by memory and also with the help of a photo she’d found on the Hughes Family Orchard
Instagram account. The piece featured the old barn that sat facing the road near the entrance to the orchard. She’d spent
hours perfecting the piece, pouring all her love for Jake, his family, and their home into it. And she could see that love
in the brushstrokes and the care she’d taken.
“Isn’t that the perfect spot for it?” He handed her another fry. “I look at it every night while I watch TV.”
She nodded, and suddenly all the pieces clicked together in her mind. “I got it,” she whispered. “See ya later, Dusty,” she
told the cat before heading out the front door and down the porch steps.
“Where are you going?” Jake trailed after her to the driveway.
Emily pointed toward the entrance to the orchard. “How long has that barn been out of commission?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the blond scruff lining his jaw. “Twenty years? Why?”
She started down the dirt road toward it.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Going to the barn.” She beckoned him. “Come on, slowpoke!”
“What are you up to?”
“Just trust me,” she said.
He took a few long strides and fell into step beside her. “I always do,” he said, and his words sent a warm glow curling through
her.
Up close the barn’s age and neglect were even more apparent. The two humongous wooden doors hung loosely from rusted hinges,
while rotting boards held nests for who knew how many birds. The peeling red paint had flaked off, leaving the barn looking
naked in the overgrown field.
But the old building still held beauty along with its legacy. And its potential was endless!
Emily started inside.
“Whoa!” Jake grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him.
He held on to her, and she enjoyed the feel of his warm and rough skin as she breathed in his familiar scent—sandalwood mixed
with soap. She’d missed that comforting smell more than she’d realized. She’d missed him. Staying away from Splendid Lake for so long had been more difficult than she’d understood.
He released her arm. “It’s not safe in there.”
“What would it take to make it safe?”
“I don’t know. Why?” He studied her with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“What if we made it into a market?”
He chuckled. “What are you talking about?”
“The new orchard is offering a fun-filled fall festival—their words, not mine. That means we need to offer something equally as amazing, right?”
He nodded, and his eyes were crystal blue in the afternoon sunlight.
“What if we had a market?” She pointed to the barn. “Let’s restore the barn and invite local vendors to sell cool stuff here.
That could be a whole new revenue stream when the orchard opens for the fall season.”
When his brow wrinkled, she kept talking. “You can invite the community to be part of it—like, Mrs. O’Connor can sell her
pies, and Mrs. Randolph can sell her jams. Then there’s Mr. Williams, who always made donuts. You know, things like that.”
His eyebrows rose, but his expression conveyed he wasn’t buying any of it.
She huffed out a frustrated breath. “Jake, why did you invite me to come here?”
His face warmed. “Because I missed you.”
She blinked. She’d missed him too. A lot. Had he missed her the same way? Her stomach flip-flopped at the idea of finally getting Jake to care about her as more than
a friend. But that was a crazy thought. If he did, then why hadn’t he told her how he felt? She frowned.
He clocked her expression and scoffed. “You don’t believe I missed you?”
“I thought you wanted my help.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you so skeptical about this?”
He paused, seeming to consider the barn, and then clasped his hand around hers and tugged her toward his house. “Our lunch
is getting cold. We can talk while we eat.”
Sitting at his kitchen table, they unwrapped their burgers and fries.
She turned to a fresh page in her notepad and started sketching the barn in between bites of her bacon cheeseburger.
After completing the outside, she added booths inside.
When she finished, she set her jaw. It was a lousy diagram, but it would have to work.
She angled the picture toward Jake. “Okay, this isn’t the best barn, but you get the idea. We could clean it up and then section
off the inside for a variety of vendors. All the orchard has ever offered is apples, right?”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of his Coke. “It’s an orchard.”
“But what if you offered more? Then we’ll get customers that the other place doesn’t. There wasn’t anything on their fancy
signs about an autumn market.”
He tapped his lips, and she wondered what they tasted like.
Stop it, Emily! Stay on task!
“I like it,” he said, but his expression was grim.
“You sure? ’Cause you’re not acting like it.”
He blew out a long breath and slouched in the chair. “I don’t know if my dad is going to go for this. He’s all about tradition.”
“But times change. If the orchard doesn’t, then it won’t exist anymore.”
“You’re right.” His smile returned. “Let’s make a list of things to sell and then we can work on a plan to convince my dad
to agree.”
They finished their lunch before creating a list of possible vendors for their market and then discussing the barn renovations.