Chapter Twenty-Five Sophie
Twenty-Five
Sophie
The Lakeside Bistro was perched on stilts at the edge of Solace Springs, the wooden structure extended partially over the water and offering gorgeous views of the lake.
“This place is lush,” Sophie said. “I almost expect cartoon birds to start helping me set the table.”
Luke’s mouth quirked up at one corner and Sophie counted that as a win. Getting a partial smile out of this man felt like scoring the winning goal in the World Cup.
“You should have told me we were coming here,” she continued. “I’d have worn something fancier.”
“You look pretty fancy to me,” Luke said as he led her through the entrance. “Pretty damn beautiful, in fact.”
She felt that warm fuzzy sensation again.
Inside, original boathouse elements had been artfully incorporated into the decor: vintage oars crossed on walls, antique fishing equipment transformed into light fixtures and what looked like an actual boat hull serving as the bar.
Splashes of color came in the form of hand-painted murals of Solace Lake through the seasons and cherry blossom garlands wrapped around wooden beams. Sophie breathed in the aromas of warm bread and fresh herbs, with an elusive hint of something like honeysuckle drifting from the house cocktails being mixed at the bar.
“The boatman,” a woman’s voice cut through the ambience. “How…unexpected to see you here.”
The boatman?
Sophie turned to see a tall, reed-thin woman with a perfect dyed-red bob approaching them.
“Evening, Victoria,” Luke said to her, looking slightly annoyed. “I thought you’d be at your Elmsworth Falls restaurant.”
“Oh, I like to check in on my smaller businesses every now and again. So, did the Germans I sent your way turn up last week?”
“They did,” Luke replied. “Thanks for that.”
“I should charge you commission.”
“You kinda did with the discount you promised,” Luke grumbled.
Victoria’s gaze swept over Sophie. “You must be the British girl who bought the Chens’ place.
” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I must say, I was quite surprised Julie chose to sell that historic property to an…outsider.” Sophie felt Luke tense beside her as Victoria continued.
“The boathouse district has been in the same families for generations. Tradition matters here in Solace Springs.” She emphasized “tradition” as if it were a secret password Sophie would never know.
“Good thing I’m big on traditions myself,” Sophie replied cheerfully. “Like the British tradition of afternoon tea and the universal tradition of welcoming newcomers.”
Luke smirked as Victoria raised an eyebrow.
“Well, if you’ll follow me,” she said, leading them to a table by the window. Luke pulled out Sophie’s chair, the gesture so automatic it suggested his family had drilled manners into him from birth.
“Our chef has prepared a spring tasting menu tonight,” Victoria told them. “Fresh fiddlehead ferns, lake trout with cherry blossom glaze, and some delightful spring lamb. I’ll bring you both a glass of our house wine to start.”
She headed off and Luke’s eyes darted around the restaurant as his knee bounced under the table, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the tablecloth.
He was just so out of place here!
Sophie sighed and set her menu down. “Luke, you look about as comfortable as a cat at a dog show.”
He let out a low and very hot chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t do restaurants much. Especially fancy ones.”
“Fancy?” Sophie laughed. “This is positively casual by London standards. I once went to a place where they served soup as a foam and the dessert came with its own soundtrack.”
Luke winced. “Sounds like my personal nightmare.”
“It was my personal nightmare, too. The soundtrack was experimental jazz and the foam tasted like disappointment with a hint of pretension.”
That earned her a real laugh, brief but rich, like dark chocolate. The sound made Sophie glow inside.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“No! Seriously, I—”
“Admit it, you brought me here because you thought, as a Londoner, I’d prefer a pretentious restaurant.”
He opened his mouth to protest but then sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“If it were up to you, where would you go to eat right now?”
Luke hesitated. “Ray’s food truck, parked up on the cliff road. Best view in town.”
“Ray, as in the Ray who nearly saw me naked yesterday?”
Luke smiled wickedly at the memory then nodded.
“The same one. He gets his catch in the morning—not usually where we were yesterday morning—works as an electrician until the afternoon then he preps his food. He does a roll called Ray’s Hook, Line, and Solace this time of year.
Uses his grandmother’s recipe with trout, sweet butter, garlic, and just enough seasoning to let the fish shine.
It’s—” He stopped, looking almost embarrassed by his enthusiasm.
“It’s what?” Sophie prompted.
“It’s real,” he said simply. “No fuss, no foam, just good food done right.”
Sophie stood up, grabbing her cardigan from the back of her chair.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked.
“We’re leaving, obviously. I want one of Ray’s legendary rolls.”
Luke’s face lit up. “Hell yeah. We’ll need to go by boat, though; it’s the other side of the lake.”
Ten minutes later, they were gliding across the dark lake on Luke’s boat, Coral making herself at home on Sophie’s lap.
The sad look in the dog’s eyes gazing at them through the window when they’d picked up the boat was just too much to resist, so Sophie insisted she join them.
Coral was now shooting Luke these impossibly smug little glances, as if to say, “See? Our new neighbor likes me best.”
“Want to steer her there?” Luke asked.
“The boat?”
“Yep.”
“Er, I should probably mention that my driving skills peaked at parallel parking in Covent Garden. Pretty sure that’s not the recommended technique for boats. But then I guess this is captaining so…”
Luke laughed. “Yep, driving and captaining are two different things.” He reached into a box beneath the wheel and pulled out a captain’s hat, complete with gold braid and a slightly faded brim.
“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“Every captain needs her hat.” His blue eyes danced with mischief as he placed it carefully on her head. “There. Now you look almost seaworthy and very hot.”
“No,” she said, catching sight of herself in the shine of the bell above. “I look like I’m auditioning for a very low-budget production of Titanic.”
“Good thing there aren’t any icebergs in the lake, then.” He adjusted the hat’s angle. “Here, take the wheel, Rose.”
“Why thank you, Jack.” She walked in front of him, placing her hands on the wheel.
“Just keep her steady,” he said, his voice closer now, his breath warm against her ear. “Feel how she wants to move.”
He came up behind her, putting his hands over hers on the wheel. Sophie tried very hard to focus on the lake rather than the solid warmth of him against her back and the way his calloused fingers adjusted her grip gently.
“Most folks try to force their will on her,” he murmured into her ear. “But she’s got her own ideas about where she wants to go. You’ve got to work with her, not against her.”
The boat hit a ripple and Sophie tightened her grip.
“You’re gripping that wheel like it’s gonna bite you,” he said.
Sophie huffed out a breath. “Well, considering this boat is older than I am and smells like a cross between engine grease and wet dog, I’d say a little caution is warranted.”
Luke fought a smile. “You planning on insulting my boat all the way to the food truck?”
She glanced up at him, her lips twitching. “That depends. Does it have feelings?”
“No, but I do.”
She leaned against his chest as she continued steering the boat.
In the distance, Solace Springs was showing off its night-time charm.
Cherry trees dotted the shoreline, their branches swaying in the breeze, while the town lights clustered cozily.
Not London’s dazzling display, of course, but there was something oddly comforting about a place small enough to actually go dark at night, where stars could still outshine streetlamps.
“God, this place is beautiful.”
“Sure is,” Luke murmured. But he wasn’t looking at the view. He was staring at Sophie.
A few moments later, they moored and walked up the hill to Ray’s food truck.
It was exactly as promised: a weathered red vehicle parked at a scenic overlook where the whole lake spread out below.
A string of mismatched fairy lights hung around the service window and the scent of butter and seafood made Sophie’s mouth water.
Only a handful of people were there, including Abbey, the strawberry blonde Sophie had met with Grace.
“Rhodes!” boomed a voice from inside the truck. “Thought I recognized that scowl pulling up. Been wondering when you’d grace the truck with your presence.”
“Been busy keeping half the town’s boats from sinking,” Luke replied.
Up close, Ray looked to be anywhere from forty to seventy.
His deeply tanned, weather-beaten face making age impossible to determine.
He had a lean, wiry build, with forearms like knotted rope and hands that looked capable of shucking oysters by sheer intimidation.
A salt-and-pepper beard covered most of his face, but couldn’t hide the permanent laughter lines around his eyes.
He wore a faded Yankees cap that had clearly weathered many seasons, both baseball and maritime.
Ray snorted, turning his attention to Sophie. “This poor girl letting you taxi her around in that death trap you call a boat?”
Sophie felt herself blush as she remembered what Ray had interrupted the day before.
“That ‘death trap’ has rescued your sorry behind twice,” Luke shot back.
“Twice? Nah, that was just one time,” Ray protested.
“Twice,” Luke insisted. “The second time was after the fishing derby when you insisted on loading ‘just one more cooler of beer’ and broke your boat in the process.”