Chapter 25
25
T he late afternoon sun sank toward the horizon, stretching long shadows across the yard. Capri stood near the open garage, the scent of freshly cut wood mingling with the crisp mountain air. Pine and sagebrush teased her senses, but the faint smell of sawdust and varnish brought her back to the task at hand.
Jake had the radio playing softly in the background—a country song she didn’t recognize—and the rhythmic sound of his hammer striking nails blended with the breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby aspens.
The cabin renovations were moving along, but Capri couldn’t shake the unease that clung to her ever since Jake had shown up with the patio furniture—sturdy and timeless, made of dark, weathered wood with thick, hand-carved details that spoke of craftsmanship.
Jake meant it as a thoughtful gesture. But to Capri, it felt like a loss of control—a symbol of the small but growing divide between what she wanted and what he was offering. She’d overreacted and thrown herself into another panic episode.
Worse? He’d witnessed it.
Her hand tightened around the measuring tape, the sharp bite of the metal immediately causing her to pull back. “Ouch!”
Her outburst caught Jake’s attention. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head as she sucked on the tiny cut on her thumb. “Just careless.” She measured the next plank.
Capri forced herself to focus, cutting lengths of wood for the beams, but her hands trembled as she reached for the saw.
Being around Jake unsettled Capri in ways she hadn’t expected. His calm, unruffled nature was like a quiet current she couldn’t escape. There was a confidence in the way he carried himself, his deep voice unhurried, never rattled, which both grounded her and made her want to pull away. But it was more than just his demeanor. There was something about the way he moved, the way his broad shoulders filled out a simple flannel shirt, or how his hands—strong, capable, and deliberate—caught her attention, especially the ease with which he handled things, whether it was a hammer or a bundle of wood.
The faint scruff along his jaw, the hint of muscles under his work-worn clothes, and the way his eyes softened when he looked at her made her pulse quicken. She was drawn to him, no question about it, but that pull terrified her as much as it thrilled her.
Even now, she could feel his gaze on her, lingering more often than not. It was a wonder he got anything done with how many times he kept looking her way.
Capri felt a flicker of warmth beneath her unease, a mixture of flattery and frustration. Part of her wanted to meet his gaze, to acknowledge the attention, but she focused on the task at hand, unwilling to let down her guard.
Capri realized she needed a carpenter’s square to make sure her cuts were precise. Glancing around, she couldn’t find it among the scattered tools. Her eyes settled on Dick’s old toolbox, perched on a high shelf in the garage. With a small sigh, she reached for it, feeling the familiar weight of the weathered metal. When she opened the lid, her breath caught. Lying there, nestled among the worn tools, was a small toy stick horse Dick had carved for her when she was young. Its wood was smooth and simple, the kind of thing only a child would treasure. Tears pricked at her eyes as the memories came rushing back.
Jake noticed her pause and stepped closer, setting down his measuring tape. “Everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft as he nodded toward the toy horse.
Capri blinked, trying to steady herself. “Dick made this for me when I was little,” she said quietly, her fingers grazing the polished wood. “Back before...before things started to fall apart.”
There was a long pause.
“Let’s take a break,” Jake suggested, motioning out the garage door.
She reluctantly nodded and followed him outside and up the steps to the porch where a pitcher of tea waited beside two empty glasses. He took the liberty of pouring and handed her the drink.
As she sank into one of the patio chairs, a tiny smile nipped at the corners of her mouth. “These are pretty nice cushions,” she admitted.
Her comment brought an amused look into Jake’s eyes. “I told you I’m happy to return them.”
“Nah, I decided to keep the set. The furniture is growing on me.” She diverted her gaze. That wasn’t all that was growing on her.
Jake leaned back against his chair. He glanced over to the sawhorse just inside the open garage, eyeing the wood Capri was measuring. “That beam’s a little long, don’t you think?” he said, half-smiling.
Capri rolled her eyes playfully. “I know what I’m doing, thank you very much. I’m no novice to building things. Dick taught me a lot.”
Jake continued to grin. “Fair enough, but just saying, precision matters. Even on a Saturday.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of Saturday, shouldn’t you be out enjoying it? Most people don’t spend their weekends covered in sawdust. I’m a tough boss, but I’m not known for working people ’round the clock.”
Jake shrugged, giving her a sideways glance. “Could say the same about you. I thought you’d be trekking up some mountain trail, not cooped up here helping me fix up an old cabin.”
Capri smiled slightly. “Trust me, I considered it. But this place needs work, and I like seeing progress. Plus, I’m not exactly the sit-around type.”
Jake grinned. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
There was another brief silence before he continued. “I also noticed you teared up when you spotted the toy horse. Wanna talk about it?”
Capri stiffened slightly, her fingers tightening around the glass she was holding. She hadn’t expected him to bring the subject up, and for a moment, she considered brushing it off. But the way Jake asked—calm, without pressing—made her hesitate. She set the glass down and glanced into the open garage door, over at the toolbox where the little toy horse still sat.
“It’s just a reminder,” she said quietly, her voice measured. “Of when things were less complicated. Dick used to make me things like that when I was a kid. Before…well, before he started drinking.”
She paused, feeling the familiar knot tighten in her chest, unsure if she wanted to continue—unsure she wanted to talk about any of this with Jake.
“I’d like to hear about it,” he prompted. “Dick sounds like he was quite a guy.”
“He was,” Capri quickly answered. “He married my mom when I was still fairly young. He was the only dad I ever knew, and, except for the years he was drinking, he treated me like a daughter.” She paused. “I loved him very much.”
Wanting to divert the attention off herself, she directed her gaze at Jake. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon—spill. You mentioned you grew up in Alabama. What was your childhood like?”
Jake leaned back in his chair, his fingers resting around his glass as he thought for a moment. His expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Well,” he began, “I grew up in a small town in northern Alabama. Not too different from Thunder Mountain in some ways. Tight-knit community, everyone knew each other’s business. My parents had a farm—nothing big, but we grew a little of everything. We sold at local farmers’ markets. It was a simple life.”
He paused, and his gaze grew distant as if he were looking back through time. “I was the youngest of five kids, so I had my fair share of fights and competition growing up. My two brothers were always bigger, stronger. I had to work twice as hard just to keep up. My dad—well, he wasn’t easy. Stubborn as a mule. He had a way of making you feel like no matter what you did, it wasn’t enough.” Jake’s smile faded.
Capri shifted slightly, noticing a flicker of tension cross his face. “Sounds tough.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It was. But it taught me something valuable—how to rely on myself. My brothers left early, went off to do their own things. I stayed on the farm longer, helped my mom after Dad passed. Eventually, she made the decision to sell. But…I knew I wasn’t meant to be there forever. I always had this feeling I was supposed to build something of my own.”
Capri nodded, her eyes softening. “And that brought you here?”
“Eventually, yeah. I went to school, got into architecture, and that’s when things started to make sense. I loved the idea of creating something lasting, something people could live in and feel safe. After a few years of working all over, I ended up in Jackson Hole, fell in love with the mountains. It’s hard to explain, but once I was here, it felt like home in a way Alabama never did.”
Capri felt a strange pull in her chest as Jake spoke, his words weaving together pieces of his life that she hadn’t known before. She could hear the pride in his voice, but there was something else—something deeper. Maybe a touch of loneliness that mirrored her own.
He shrugged as if brushing off the heaviness of the moment. “So yeah, that’s me. Not much to tell.”
Capri’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “I think there’s a lot more to you than you’re letting on.”
Jake chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made Capri’s heart skip. “Maybe,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But I figure some things are better learned with time, don’t you?”
Before she could reply, Capri felt a flutter in her stomach, the familiar unease creeping in. His words hung between them, filled with a promise she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept.
What happens next could go two ways—Capri could deflect again, pushing away the growing connection between them by changing the subject or pulling back emotionally. Or, for the first time, she might let the conversation linger, acknowledging the potential of something more with Jake.
She hesitated; a question lodged in her throat. After a moment of grappling with herself, Capri lifted her gaze to meet his. “Have you ever been in love?”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. “Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that.” Despite his initial surprise, a smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a soft laugh. “Yeah...yeah, I have.”
He waited for her response, but Capri gave him a sly look, shaking her head. “Oh no, I asked you first.”
Jake’s smile softened as he ran a hand through his hair as if the memory lingered just beneath the surface. “Her name was Sophie. We met in college—she was studying journalism. She had this fire in her, always chasing the next big story, dreaming of traveling the world and covering things that mattered.”
He paused, his eyes flicking to Capri’s, then down to his hands. “It was easy between us, you know? Real. But… in the end, we wanted different things.”
Capri raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”
Jake let out a quiet sigh. “She wanted to see the world, report from places like war zones, uncovering truths that people needed to hear. And I—I wanted something simpler. A place to call home, a life I could build with my own hands. We sat down one day and realized neither of us could give up what we wanted for the other. No blowout fight or angry words…just a simple understanding that we were headed in different directions.”
He shrugged, trying to mask the lingering hurt with a casual gesture. “It made sense, practical even. But that didn’t stop it from cutting deep when it ended.”
Capri felt the gravity of his words settle between them. That was something she wasn’t sure she’d ever had. The way Jake spoke about Sophie, so matter of fact yet laced with unspoken heartache, made her stomach twist.
She’d always believed love was something she could keep at a distance, something that couldn’t touch her if she didn’t let it. But sitting here, listening to Jake talk about what he had lost for the sake of practicality, made her realize how foreign that kind of connection was to her.
Jake watched her for a moment, reading the silence in her expression. “Your turn,” he said gently, nudging her with his words. “What about you? Ever been in love?”
Capri swallowed, feeling exposed under his steady gaze. But no doubt she’d asked for it.
She shifted in her seat, almost wishing she could brush off the question.
“No,” she said quietly, admitting it to herself for the first time. “I’ve never been in love. Not really.”
The words felt heavier than she expected, like she was confessing something more than just a fact—something deeper about the way she’d lived her life, always keeping people at arm’s length.
Jake held her gaze, his expression softening with understanding. “There’s no rush, you know,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “Love comes when it’s meant to, not when we try to force it.”
Capri gave him a small, wistful smile, feeling the truth of his words settle into the space between them. “Maybe,” she murmured. “But I’m not sure I’d even know what to do if it did.”