Chapter Three Sophie #2
Sophie hesitated, feeling Luke’s eyes flick up from where he was placing a kayak on its side at the end of his jetty, clearly not thrilled with the conversation.
She had considered something sleek and modern, like Caleb’s place.
But now she was here, she realized she wanted to go for something that honored the lake’s character—weathered wood and window seats, cozy corners and charm.
A place where wet boots and paperbacks could coexist. But she wanted to keep that to herself for now.
“Once I know for sure,” she said, “you’ll be one of the first to hear. ”
“Whatever you decide,” Caleb said, “you absolutely have to come to my Words and Watercolors Club. We talk books, we talk art, we talk life, we talk drama. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.
” He grinned, showing off perfect teeth.
“Oh, and you can find my latest novel, A Summer of Secrets and Margaritas, on . It’s a rom-com-slash-mystery set in a beachside tequila bar.
Critics—well, my mother—call it ‘iconic.’ ”
Sophie smiled. “Sounds unforgettable.”
“Oh, I’ve heard it is,” Luke said drily.
They all turned to look at him, watching as he ran his hand along the underside of the kayak, water dripping from his fingers as he inspected a crack in the hull.
His T-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of tanned, toned skin just above the waistband of his jeans.
Sophie noticed how the fabric of his T-shirt stretched taut across his large shoulders, hinting at the kind of strength that came from years of physical work.
Oh boy.
Clearly Caleb and Mabel were thinking the same as they’d both gone quiet.
Sophie tore her gaze away, reminding herself she had plenty of problems to solve without adding distracted by hot neighbor to the list.
“I suppose it’s time I checked out my new boathouse,” she said, suddenly feeling anxious.
What if it really was an absolute nightmare inside? What if she’d made a terrible mistake?
Caleb grimaced. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go in there without a hard hat.”
Great.
“Is it really that bad?” she asked him.
“Don’t look so worried!” Mabel said quickly. “Anyway, your neighbor is the town’s handyman superhero. Right, Luke? You can help Sophie, can’t you?”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Luke muttered, clearly not up for helping.
“I’m sure there are plenty of talented local contractors who can help,” Sophie said, keen to show she didn’t have any intention of dragging him into her project.
“Oh honey, boathouses are unique,” Mabel said. “And the Rhodes family are the ones who know them best. Luke, I’m sure—”
“You heard what she said,” Luke grumbled. “Plenty of talented local contractors.”
Sophie ignored him and focused on her new home.
“Go on, honey,” Mabel encouraged, giving Sophie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sometimes you just have to take that first step.”
Sophie stared at her new front door, key trembling slightly in her hand. This was it. The moment her impulsive decision became real. Four thousand people’s dreams, her mother’s inheritance, and her entire future, all hanging on whatever waited on the other side.
She could feel Luke watching from his dock, too, probably waiting for her to turn tail and run.
It made her even more determined.
The key fought her at first, protesting with the kind of stubborn resistance that seemed to say, Are you sure about this? But then—click. The door swung open with a dramatic groan that made Caleb wince.
“Oh dear,” he murmured behind her as sunlight filtered through gaps in the wooden slats, illuminating years of dust and decay. “It’s worse than I thought.”
But Sophie wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart was too busy soaring at the sight of the snug space and the large two-story (all-be-it cracked) arched window to the west of the boathouse that turned the lake into a living painting.
Before it was a large living area, which would become her bookshop—her bookshop!
—overlooked by a mezzanine balcony, winding stairs leading up to it.
It all spread before her like a blank canvas waiting for her dreams.
“Oh, you beautiful thing,” she breathed, already seeing past the cobwebs and the years of neglect. She moved through the space, her steps light on the protesting floorboards.
“You love it, don’t you?” Mabel asked softly.
“I do,” Sophie said, and she meant it with every fiber of her being. “I know it needs work—a lot of work—but it’s got stories to tell.”
“Yes, I can see it now,” Caleb said. “I’m thinking full seventies revival. Sunken conversation pit, macramé wall hangings everywhere, one of those egg chairs hanging from the ceiling…Oh! And shag carpet. Lots of shag carpet. In orange.”
“Lord save us,” Mabel muttered.
“Actually,” Sophie cut in gently, “I was thinking of something a bit more…” She searched for a diplomatic way to say “less likely to cause seizures.” “Traditional?”
“Traditional?” Caleb deflated slightly.
“I want to honor what the boathouse already is,” Sophie explained. “All that beautiful original woodwork, history in every beam.”
“Oh, thank heavens.” Mabel pressed a hand to her chest. “What a relief! Makes such a change from that horrible ex of Luke’s with her ‘modern vision.’ Nearly gave poor Noah a heart attack with her plans for his hardware store.”
Before Sophie could process that piece of information about her neighbor’s ex, a scratching sound from upstairs made them all look up.
“You better add pest control to the list of…” Caleb’s voice trailed off, realizing perhaps that wasn’t helping.
“Let’s leave her to it,” Mabel said, grabbing Caleb’s arm and ushering him out. “But do come by Blossoms it’s on me,” she called over her shoulder. “You can tell us about your plans for this place.”
Sophie eased the door shut behind them and turned in a slow circle, letting the space sink in.
Sunlight streamed through the huge window dominating the west wall that looked out at the lake, as well as the two smaller windows at the front of the house.
If she squinted, she could almost ignore the cracked glass and the peeling paint.
Almost. Still, she decided then and there that “bright and airy” was going to be her official first impression, not “drafty and possibly a health and safety hazard.”
She headed to the back of the main living space, ducking under the shadow of the upstairs landing, and pushed into the kitchen.
Small, yes, but workable. The seller had kindly left a few appliances behind: an oven with a dial that stuck, a fridge that made a noise like an old man snoring, and cupboards that gaped like crooked teeth. No kettle, though. Typical.
She stared at the little round porthole window over the sink, framing a perfect circle of lake, and then at the back door that opened onto a deck so weather-beaten it looked one step away from retirement. But in her mind she was already standing out there with her morning tea.
She left the kitchen and headed up the spiral wooden staircase, stepping onto the balcony that overlooked the living area.
From that elevated position, the great arched window painted shifting patterns over the dusty boards.
She smiled. It was like living inside her very own kaleidoscope—if kaleidoscopes also came with cracked panes.
She walked the hallway, poking her head into the smaller bedroom first. Damp smell?
Yes. Bare walls? Definitely. But all she could see was a sweet guest room in the making.
The bathroom was another story: a rusty tub crouching beneath a window so clogged with cobwebs she half expected a tarantula to greet her, a loo that looked more ornamental than functional, and tiles stained the sort of yellow no cleaning spray in the world was going to shift.
Still, nothing a sledgehammer couldn’t fix.
Finally she stepped into the master bedroom. Bigger, brighter and with a balcony that made her breath catch. She stepped out, breathing in the spring lake air. To the left, Solace Lake glittered like a promise. To the right was…Luke’s dock.
She paused to watch as he methodically smoothed the kayak’s wood with sandpaper, like every move had been practiced a thousand times.
A breeze rippled across the lake, lifting his dark hair from his forehead.
Sophie caught her breath. He really was rather beautiful, even with that frown of his, which only deepened whenever he glanced at her boathouse, like he was expecting it to collapse any second.
Not going to happen, Harbor Hottie, Sophie thought. She had four thousand believers, a head full of dreams, and now, finally, a place that felt like home.
Then she caught a whiff of something…something that was coming from her. She gave herself a sniff and nearly barfed.
“Ergh, I smell like fish!”
It must have been from the lake dunk. She went into the bathroom and twisted the shower knob to test it. The pipes groaned like they were auditioning for a horror movie, then spat out a stream of something brown that definitely wasn’t water.
Great. Now she’d have to go ask Mr. Grumpy-But-Gorgeous if there was a gym in town where she could shower.
Just rip off the Band-Aid, Sophie. She marched back outside, channeling her inner girlboss despite smelling like the seafood aisle. She approached Luke, trying not to get distracted by the way the muscles in his forearm flexed as he continued down the wood.
He looked up at her approach.
“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a gym in town, would you?” she asked. “With, um, shower facilities? My shower’s producing some kind of brown sludge.”
Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’ll be the rust. The pipes haven’t been used in a coupla years, so whatever’s sitting in them would’ve turned nasty. You’ll need a plumber to flush the system.”
“Right. I’ll add that to the list. But my immediate thought is getting rid of this fish smell,” she said, sniffing at herself.
Luke grimaced. “Oh. Yeah, Ray dropped his bait container about an hour ago. He cleaned it up, but…” He gestured vaguely at her.
“The smell lingers. No gym until the next town, though.” He paused a moment, getting a look on his face like he was wrestling with some thoughts.
Then he gave a resigned sigh. “You can take a shower at my place, if you want,” he mumbled.
Sophie briefly thought about turning the offer down. After all, he wasn’t exactly welcoming her with open arms. But what choice did she have?
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yep. Just head inside, there’s a downstairs shower room, first door on the right. Just make sure you close the door properly else Coral will get in with you, she’s clingy like that.”
“Coral.”
He gestured to the window where the dog was staring out at them with soulful eyes.
“Oh my God, she’s adorable,” she said.
“Yeah, she thinks it, too.”
Sophie grabbed her suitcase then paused a beat before adding: “Bet you didn’t think your day would involve inviting a woman smelling of fish into your shower.”
The words hung in the air for a moment too long, and Sophie immediately regretted her choice of phrasing. Luke’s eyebrow shot up, then a slow, wicked smile spread across his face, the kind that could make anyone question their life choices.
“Can’t say that was on my to-do list,” he drawled, his voice full of heat and amusement. Then he blinked, frowned, and looked right back at his kayak, face flushing.
Sophie’s cheeks flamed too as she practically fled toward his boathouse, inwardly cursing her big mouth. The door shut behind her, but she could still feel the weight of Luke’s gaze burning into her skin.
“Brilliant start, Sophie. Just brilliant.” As she tried to collect herself, a sharp bark cut through the silence. She looked down to find Coral staring up at her. The little dog’s chestnut-and-white coat was glossy and immaculately groomed, her head tilted with an expression of polite curiosity.
Not the salty sea dog she’d envisaged a man like Luke owning.
Coral’s feathered tail wagged delicately, and Sophie crouched down, stroking her soft ears. The dog leaned into her touch and Sophie found herself cuddling her close.
“What have I got myself into, Coral?” she whispered.
The dog gave a soft yip, as if in agreement, then licked Sophie’s hand with dainty enthusiasm. Sophie laughed, pressing her forehead briefly against Coral’s as she let out a sigh. “Yeah, I don’t know, either,” she said.