Page 25 of Summer Showdown
Lark shook her head. "No need to apologize. Exes are... complicated."
"Some more than others," I agreed with a rueful smile. "Vanessa and I wanted different things in life. I've always valued staying true to who you are. Commitment. Being present with the people you care about, even when it's difficult."
She was quiet for a long moment, considering my words. Then her hand found mine again, fingers interlacing with purpose rather than performance.
"Something smells really good around here," she said, changing the subject but not letting go of my hand.
I recognized the olive branch for what it was. "There's a gourmet popcorn booth just up ahead. Montana Mountain Kernels—Dorothy's flavors are legendary around here."
As we approached the brightly colored booth, I felt the awkwardness dissipating between us, giving way to something else—a deeper understanding, perhaps. Or at least the beginning of one.
Dorothy was arranging samples of colorful popcorn in small paper cones when we arrived. She looked up with a warm smile.
"Perfect timing," the plump, bright-cheeked woman said, gesturing to her fresh batches. "New varieties just ready for tasting."
We each took a cone of different flavors. Lark's expression brightened as she tasted the caramel with sea salt. "This is delicious."
"The secret's in the butter," Dorothy said proudly. "Local dairy, churned fresh weekly."
"This cheddar jalapeño has quite a kick," I noted, reaching for a bottle of water.
"That's fantastic," Lark told Dorothy, taking another sample of the caramel. "I've never had popcorn this good."
As Dorothy bustled off to help another customer, I caught Lark watching me, a soft expression on her face I hadn't seen before. When our eyes met, she didn't look away, and something in me lifted.
"Would you like to come over tonight to decorate our kayak for tomorrow's regatta?" I asked as we left the booth. "I've got my tandem kayak set up in my workshop ready to go."
She nodded. "That sounds perfect. I'd love to. I was wondering what kayak we'd be using for the race."
"One of my personal ones," I explained. "It's a forest-green tandem I've had for years. Thought it would be perfect for the Lake Challenge."
"I can't wait to see it," she said with a smile. "And to add our own special touch to it."
"I'll pick you up at the inn around six? We can grab dinner first if you want."
"Actually," she said, "why don't I meet you at your place? I'd be happy to pick up a bottle of wine on the way. Seems only fair since you made dinner last night."
"Great idea. Six o'clock at my place, then."
As we completed our circuit of the market, stopping for lemonade and cinnamon rolls from Greta's tent, I couldn't help but notice how much more relaxed Lark seemed. She laughed more freely with each new person she met, her eyes visibly brightening when she greeted those she recognized. It was as if her corporate armor was gradually melting away in the warm Montana sun.
Even when Zoe inevitably found us, camera ready, Lark's smile remained genuine as she eagerly leaned against me for the photo. Her body fit perfectly against mine, and I allowed my arm to wrap around her waist, drawing her in close as she gazed up at me. The warmth in her eyes wasn't for Zoe's benefit - I could feel it in my bones.
***
The evening sun cast long shadows across my workshop as I prepared for Lark's arrival. I'd spent the afternoon making space among my tools and projects, clearing the center workbench where we could decorate the tandem kayak for tomorrow's regatta.
My workshop was a converted garage attached to my house, spacious and well-organized with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with carefully labeled bins of hardware and specialty woods. Tools hung on pegboards in silhouette outlines— a system I'd adopted from my classroom that had become second nature in my private space. The air held the pleasant scent of cedar and pine shavings, with notes of linseed oil and beeswax finish. Along one wall stood my larger equipment: a professional-grade table saw, a lathe, a planer, and a jointer, all meticulously maintained.
The forest-green tandem kayak sat in the center of the workspace, waiting to be decorated for tomorrow's race. I'd already started some detail work while waiting—careful carvings along the gunwales representing Montana wildlife: bighorn sheep, osprey, cutthroat trout, and bear.
The sound of tires on gravel announced her arrival. I wiped my hands on a shop towel and stepped outside just as she was climbing out of her car, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder and a bottle of wine in her hand.
"Right on time," I called.
She smiled, lifting the bag and wine. "I come bearing gifts from Rory's garden. Rosemary, lavender, and some late-blooming cornflowers she said I could use. And I didn't forget the wine I promised."
"Perfect. Come on in."
