Page 10 of The Summer I Stayed
I press my hand to my chest, relief washing over me. “Jake! Are you okay?” I call out, squinting against the bright sun to see him better.
“Yeah,” he calls back, his tone casual despite what’s happening. “Just, uh, slipped a bit.”
I cross my arms, giving him a pointed look. “Now, who could use an extra pair of hands?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light even though I feel a mix of concern and irritation with this headstrong man.
“I’ll manage,” he says again, with a hint of amusement in his voice. “But if you insist, you could put the ladder back up.”
I stride over to the fallen ladder and, with a bit of effort, manage to prop it back against the house. Thank you barre classes for keeping me in shape all these years.
The metal clinks as Jake steps down onto each rung of the ladder. As he plants both feet firmly on the ground, I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I take a step back, only to feel a furry body pressing against my legs. Maverick, of course.
“Hey, boy,” I say, scratching the top of his head as I watch Jake dust his hands off his jeans. He gives me a curt nod of thanks.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, meeting his gaze. It’s then that I notice the slight softening around his eyes, a smile growing at the corners of his mouth. For the first time since I met him, Jake looks…approachable.
Jake clears his throat. “Shingles…Got to get the…” He turns and walks toward his truck.
I chuckle as Maverick nuzzles into my hand. “You’re a better judge of character than I. Guess he’s not all rough edges. Is he, boy?”
I decide to stand by the ladder, whether he wants me to or not, while he finishes working on the roof. Luckily, it was only minor damage. A few shingles were ripped up by the wind, but he didn’t find any leaks.
As I watch him work, I can’t help but be taken by the contrast of Jake’s practicality and Maverick’s playful demeanor. There’s something about their partnership that’s incredibly endearing and brings an unexpected warmth to my heart.
I don’t think Jake Hollis is as gruff as they say he is. He must be caring and loving to have a dog, especially one as carefree as Maverick.
Deciding to make the most of my time, I take a few pictures of the outside of the house. Maverick bounds around, his playful energy brings a smile to my face.
“Jake!” I call out, prompting him to look up from where he’s placing a new shingle. He squints against the sun, wiping off sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Smile!”
He freezes for a moment, looking like he’s about to refuse. But he doesn’t. His lips curl up into something that could pass for an actual smile.
I snap the picture quickly before he goes back to hammering away.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I tease him as he climbs down from the roof.
He grunts and rolls his eyes at me.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say with a laugh, glancing down at Maverick, who’s wagging his tail. “You know what, Mav?” I bend down to scratch behind his ears. “There may be hope for this summer in Blue Alder Cove yet.”
Chapter Seven
Jake
The sun beams down on the weathered porch as I start removing planks of wood to check on the structure underneath. From the outside they’re a little beaten up but solid, but it feels like you’re sinking when you walk on it.
The past few days, I’ve been doing small but necessary repairs like replacing windows and removing debris that was scattered on the property. As I work, preferably in silence and alone, Maggie flits around from one task to the next like an energetic hummingbird. Typically, it would be annoying, but for some unfathomable reason, her presence is bearable, even…welcomed.
She’s persistent, wanting to be part of every step of this renovation, and I find myself begrudgingly impressed with her determination. No task seems too daunting or menial; she dives into it with enthusiasm, even if she has no idea what she’s doing. And she manages to do it all while wearing a sundress and sneakers.
Today, she’s decided to tackle sanding the front door while I figure out the porch issue. The old paint is peeling off the door, revealing the raw wood beneath. The whirring noise of the sander competes with the classic rock streaming from her portable speaker, creating an odd symphony in the background.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye while I wrench at the impossible nails. She’s turned off the sander, dragging her hair up into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. A thin layer of sweat glistens on her tanned skin, and she’s covered in specks of dust from the door. Her sleeveless dress shows off toned arms.
She looks up suddenly, catching me in my observation. An expected wave of self-consciousness hits me. I’ve been lost in thoughts about Maggie Wilkes longer than I’ve allowed myself with any woman since…well, let’s just say it’s been a while.
“Something wrong, Jake?” she calls out, her voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.
“Uh, just checking on your work,” I reply gruffly, nodding at the door she’s sanding.
