Chapter 8
Jake sat back on his heels and scanned the roof. It was Friday evening, and the roof renovation was finally done. He hadn’t
expected it to take all week, but thanks to quite a bit of rotten wood, the project was bigger than he’d planned, and it had
taken more money than expected. He was dipping into his savings, but it was for a good cause—his family’s legacy. He refused
to let Emily pay. Instead, he’d rely on his savings and then his credit card.
The evening was actually cool, and he was grateful that the late-summer air was finally letting go of some humidity and hinting
that autumn would be here soon.
Jake stood up to his full height and turned toward the orchard employees. “Thanks so much for staying late so we could finish
this up. Next week we’ll start on the barn walls.”
“Sounds good, Boss,” Vince said, and Eddie and Rico nodded.
They all climbed down the ladder.
“Have a good weekend.” Jake waved as they climbed into their pickups and took off.
After stashing his gloves and supplies in the barn, he glanced around the area in search of Emily. They’d texted earlier, and she’d mentioned she was helping his mother with a few chores and would join him soon.
He pivoted toward an old picnic table, where Emily worked on her sketch pad. His lips turned up in a grin. He should’ve known
she’d be drawing.
She was completely focused on her project. Her right hand flew over the paper, and her head bopped along with a beat only
she could hear in her AirPods. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the evening light in a way that cast
an almost imperceptible red glow.
He liked the way the corners of her mouth curved up slightly as she sang along softly with an oldies song. Her vibrant golden
eyes sparkled as she concentrated. And with her perfect nose, high cheekbones, and symmetrical face, he suddenly realized
Emily was . . . captivating. His pulse quickened as he felt an unfamiliar spike of adrenaline in her presence.
He stilled for a moment as a strange feeling washed over him. He felt something unlock deep inside him—something he hadn’t
felt for years. Was he imagining it? But if that were true, then why were his hands trembling?
He took a deep breath and tried in vain to dismiss this crazy notion that he had romantic feelings for her.
“Hey,” he called, and his voice sounded hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Carmichael!”
But Emily kept singing and drawing.
He crept up behind her and peered down at her sketch pad and found what looked like a label with the words “Hughes Family Orchard Cider” in the center of a logo featuring a grove of trees.
She continued to sing the lyrics to “Do You Believe in Magic” by The Lovin’ Spoonful while she shaded the label with a red pencil.
As usual, the drawing was impressive. He’d always been blown away by her level of detail—even the leaves on the trees were lifelike.
But as great as her logo was, he still wasn’t going to try to sell his cider and risk ruining his family’s reputation.
Emily shifted, and when her golden eyes focused on him, she gasped and removed an AirPod from her left ear. “I hate it when
you sneak up on me,” she exclaimed.
“Sneak? I’ve been calling you, but you’re too busy drawing and singing to hear me.”
She worked to catch her breath. “That’s it! I’m buying you a collar with a bell on it.”
He chuckled before jamming his thumb toward the water. “We finished the roof. Let’s go.”
“When did you become the boss of me?” She shot him a look, but the twinkle in her eyes made him grin.
“I’ve been the boss since you showed up uninvited in my orchard when we were five and never left. Now come on.”
She closed up her sketch pad and stored her AirPods in their case before stuffing them, along with her colored pencils, into
her giant bag. “Where are we going?” she asked, hefting the bag onto her shoulder.
“For a boat ride.”
“Now?”
“Yes, right now. The guys and I have been busting our rears on the barn all week. I need a break and so do you.”
They traipsed down the path to the dock, and he climbed into the old aluminum johnboat that Jake was convinced was as old as he was—if not older.
But the small boat still did its job. Jake held his hand out to Emily, and she took it.
When her warm fingers entwined with his, he tried to ignore the zip of heat that traveled up his arm.
What was wrong with him? He’d held Emily’s hand a million times over the years. Maybe he was coming down with something. Scarlet
fever? Yup, that had to be it. It was just a hot flash caused by a terrible illness. That was the only explanation that made
any sense.
Emily settled on a seat in the center of the boat, and he started the engine before they glided out toward the middle of the
lake. Above them, the sun began to set. He turned off the engine and the boat bobbed gently while the waves lapped up against
it.
Soon his aching muscles began to relax. He relished being out on the lake—breathing in a whiff of the water and taking in
the sound of the happy frogs croaking nearby while he peered at the familiar lights on the shore. This was his lake. Well,
technically, it wasn’t his, but it was home, and being out here with Emily made it feel even more special.
She opened her giant shoulder bag, plucked out her sketch pad, and flipped to the picture of the logo before shoving it into
his hands. “I know you saw it earlier. What do you think?”
“It’s great, but you’re wasting your talent. I’m not selling the cider. Not now, not ever.”
She eyed him. “Did you get your stubbornness from your mom, your dad, or both of them?”
He chuckled.
“Yup. Definitely from your dad. Your mom is more apt to compromise.” She took the sketch pad back. “The cider will be a great
addition to our fall market. I’ll find a way to convince you to sell it. You’ll see.” She paused for a moment, her eyes flashing
with determination. “You really haven’t told your folks about it?”
He shook his head. “Nope. You’re the only one who knows.” He held up a finger. “But I need to add that you were snooping when you found it, so I technically didn’t tell you about it.”
“You haven’t told anyone at all?”
“No, no one.” He tilted his head. “What are you getting at?”
“What about Claire?”
He snorted. “She’d never want to hear about my lame attempt at making cider. She just wants me to move to Nashville with her.”
He turned on the engine and motored out farther into the lake.
The boat glided through the water, and Emily looked lost in thought while she squinted up at the sky above them. The radiant
prism of colors from the sunset created a halo around her, making her dainty features even more striking.
Why hadn’t he ever noticed how pretty she was?
He shoved down that question just as Emily focused on him. “You’re staring at me again. What’s up?”
Oh no.
Had she heard his thoughts? His stomach constricted.
“Nothing.” He shrugged and tried to sound casual despite his rocketing heartbeat. “I was trying to read your thoughts, but
my Carmichael ESP is a bit rusty. So tell me—whatcha thinkin’ about?”
She pointed to the sky. “The sunsets are always glorious here in Splendid Lake.” She paused. “And they’re the best to paint,”
she added, her words soft and full of reverence.
“So paint it.”
“I can’t, silly. I don’t have my easel or my paints.”
He pointed to her humongous bag. “Use your sketch pad and your colored pencils. Take your time. We can sit here as long as
you want.”
Her hand fluttered to her necklace, and she began twiddling with her mother’s rings.
“No.” She shook her head while keeping her eyes focused on the heavens above them.
“Not tonight.” She turned her attention back to him and smiled, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Let’s head back.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “It’s getting a little chilly. ”
He started the engine before piloting the boat back to the dock. After tying it up, he climbed out and then held his hand
out to her. Emily threaded her fingers with his and allowed him to guide her up onto the dock.
“Thanks for the ride, Captain Hughes.”
He chuckled, and she released his hand before bumping his side.
They headed down the path, using the flashlights on their phones to guide their way. When they reached the path leading to
her former childhood home, she hesitated.
“Do you want to walk over to your old house?” Jake rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”
She craned her neck over her shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, but no.”
They continued until they reached the turnoff for his house. When they stopped, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged
him.
“Good night,” she whispered before hurrying toward his parents’ house.
Emily flipped Jake’s radio to the oldies station and began singing with The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations.” The sky above them was cloudy, and a pleasant breeze drifted in from their open windows.
It was Tuesday morning, and they’d just left the home improvement store after filling the bed of his truck with sheets of plywood and other supplies to continue fixing the barn walls.
When she snuck a glance at Jake, she spotted him resting his left arm on the truck door while he steered with his right hand.
He wore his usual Mets ball cap, and he tapped his fingers along with the beat of the song.
She leaned toward him. “So you actually like the oldies, but you don’t want to admit it.”
“What?” He scoffed. “No way.”
She pointed to his left arm. “I have proof. You’re enjoying it.”
He shook his head.
“You’re going to let me help build the walls on the barn today, right?” she asked. “Having me ‘supervise,’” she continued,
making air quotes with her fingers, “is insulting to everyone of my gender. I’m capable of hitting a nail. Don’t you remember
when I built that diorama of the town square for art class in middle school? That required a hammer and nails, and I escaped
without injury and got an A.” She lifted her chin.