Page 41 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

Erika

“ B y the power vested in me by the State of Oregon—and, uh, the internet—I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Glancing up from my officiant script, I grin at my father. He’s handsome in his suit and tie, sitting proudly in his all-terrain track chair. We decked it out with pink and orange flowers for this sweet, outdoor wedding on the shore of Cherry Blossom Lake.

He’s grinning at Ruby, who shines like a lighthouse in a sunny peach dress that flutters around her knees.

A jubilant cluster of canines whips past, yipping and barking with joy.

There’s Scrumpy and Orfy and Ribsy, plus Dad’s new dog, Zeke.

They’re brawling just three feet away from the flower arch framing the newlyweds, but Ruby and Dad don’t seem to mind.

They only have eyes for each other.

As our family and friends start to clap, I lock eyes with Dad. “Go on.” Tears clog my throat as sunlight shimmers on the lake. “You may now kiss your beautiful bride.”

“Amen!” Ruby shouts, flinging her bouquet to the side.

That wasn’t planned, but Hazel catches it with confusion etched on her face. “Uh, here.” She tries to hand it to Annabelle, who backs away slowly like it’s a grenade.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

My dad doesn’t hear them, and neither does Ruby. With a triumphant whoop, he pulls his new wife onto his lap. He kisses her soundly, making her giggle as the crowd goes crazy applauding.

“Get a room!” I’m laughing and clapping, not exactly the picture of stoic restraint that I’ve witnessed from most wedding officiants.

But screw it, I’m thrilled for my dad. So is Mason.

He’s following the duo back down the aisle, chucking handfuls of rose petals as my father wheels past toward the post-wedding feast. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” Mason calls after them.

Crazy is right. When my dad asked Mason if he’d like to be a groomsman, my goofball fiancé gave a stone-faced reply. “I’d really rather be the flower girl.”

Dad called his smart-ass bluff like he always has, procuring a basket and a bonnet. “Here ya go, Dolly. Knock ’em dead.”

Which is what Mason’s doing right now as he chases the newlyweds in a shower of pink and orange petals. As soon as his basket is empty, Mason holds out an arm with a smile I feel deep in my belly. “What sort of scene should we make this time?”

“Very funny.” Believe it or not, we made it through Kaleb and Brooke’s wedding without a single spectacle.

Okay, there was the moment at the reception where Mason cued up the bouquet toss to the tune of Alec Benjamin’s “I Sent My Therapist to Therapy,” but I’m pretty sure he planned that ahead of time with Kaleb.

As we troop to the picnic spot set up with cozy round tables, I admire the hard work of Mason’s whole family.

Lucy made mountains of potato salad, which is tucked next to Kaleb’s kale salad on the buffet table.

Beside that, I spot cookies—I think Brooke made those—plus some kind of fresh berry cobbler from Zoe.

There’s a huge vat of chowder from Cal, plus cornbread from Jake and chili made with love by Sarah Lou Spencer.

Everyone chipped in something, even me with my store-bought veggie tray I laid out on Lucy’s blue platter so you wouldn’t even know I didn’t cut up the carrots myself.

Naturally, Mason and Harper made decorations. Bright paper maché flowers flutter on wires looped between trees. At the center of every white tablecloth, there’s a cluster of daisies perched in a vase filled with water and beach agates collected by Harper and her grandma.

Mason’s been teaching his niece calligraphy, making place cards for the tables and directional signs they’ve positioned all over the property.

We’re on Mason’s land, the two-acre parcel he inherited from his grandparents.

It’s where we’ve begun building our home, which we hope to move into right after our own wedding.

I still can’t believe Dad picked this spot to tie the knot with Ruby. “It’s where you’ll be living your happily-ever-after, sweetheart. Where you found solace when our own lives seemed grim.”

“Oh, Dad.” Tears clogged my throat as he made his request.

“I’d like to share that with you,” he said. “To find my new start in a place that means something to you.”

“Of course.” I was almost as honored as Mason, who got to work right away clearing the land. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking great on this gorgeous spring day. The contractors poured the footings last week, so we can already see the shape of our future home.

I don’t realize we’ve stopped walking until Mason touches the small of my back. “The wedding went great, huh?”

“It was perfect.” I glance at my dad, who’s greeting his guests at the spot where the aisle meets the reception area. “Dad wanted me to say thanks—for the ten-millionth time.”

“No problem.” Mason grins. “It was a real team effort.”

“Your family makes one helluva team.”

We both spot Luke Lovelin at the same time. He’s shaking Dad’s hand, laughing at something Ruby just said. When Luke steps away, his eyes lock with Hazel’s. Something electric zings between them, but it’s gone in an instant as Hazel turns away.

“What the hell was that?” Mason murmurs.

“Beats me. Your cousin is very tight-lipped about her love life.”

“You think there’s something going on?”

“Maybe.” I’ve got my suspicions something happened between them, but Hazel’s not saying a word. “Guess we should go get in line for food.”

“Actually, do you have a sec?” He tips his head toward the spot where the construction crews dropped off the lumber last week. “I wanted to run something past you for the house.”

“Now?”

“It’ll just take a minute.” He watches his siblings line up at the buffet table. “I told Jake and Kaleb I’ll punch them in the junk if they eat all the food before we get there.”

“That’s funny,” I murmur. “I told their wives the same thing.”

He laughs and leads me through the trees toward the homesite.

Our homesite, the place where we’ll start our lives as a married couple.

We’re planning a simple wedding for ourselves, something small in the church where my parents got hitched so long ago.

No froofy bridesmaid dresses or unity candles, but we do plan to plant a tree like Sam and Maxine did.

I assume that’s why Mason’s walking me toward the spot where we talked about putting it. We haven’t decided where it should go yet, but the edge of the house seems right.

“How’s the ring fitting?” he asks.

“Great.” I glance down at my finger and smile. “I’m liking the flush set.”

“That sounds like a toilet brush.”

Laughing, I hold up my hand. His grandmother’s diamond catches the light, tucked safely inside the bright band of rose gold. “My hand looks too pretty for cleaning toilets now. Guess that’s your job.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

We arrive at a clearing where Mason stops walking and turns. At first, I don’t see it. This seems like an odd spot for planting a tree. “I wonder if maybe it’s too close to the— oh .”

I spot the door propped against an old pine. The ancient brass doorknob looks battered and worn, the wooden slab peeling with ribbons of old paint. It’s charred on one corner, and I know in an instant what I’m looking at.

“Your grandparents’ door,” I breathe softly. “The one I have the key for.”

“Yeah.” He touches the edge with a reverence I see in his eyes. “Somehow, it survived the fire.”

“I can’t believe it still looks the same.” The faded red paint is a different hue than when I first used my key. Touching the lock, I turn to see Mason watching me. “It’s yours now?”

“It’s ours.” He smiles and takes my hand. “I thought we could refinish it and use it for our place. It’s still sturdy and strong—solid maple. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”

“They don’t, do they?” I’m not just thinking about doors.

Touching the edge, I’m taken right back to the earliest days of my friendship with Mason.

I can picture my eight-year-old hand twisting the knob, opening the portal to family.

I smell chowder and homemade bread, hear laughter in his grandmother’s kitchen. “It’s perfect.”

“I thought so, too.” Letting go of my hand, Mason steps around the side. “Want to see if it works?”

“Uh, what?” He lost me there. “What do you mean?”

“Go on, give it a try.” He ducks behind the door, then peeks out to grin at me. “Knock knock.”

I laugh and play along as he drums his knuckles on the old wood. “Who’s there?”

“Baby Yoda.”

I haven’t done this one before. “Baby Yoda who?”

Mason peers around the doorframe, grinning with his dimple on full display. “Baby, yo da one for me.”

I giggle and groan at the same time, which turns into a yelp as he pulls me in for a kiss. I’m surrounded by so much sensation. The tingle of his touch, the sounds of birdsong and laughter from the distant crowd. The smell of smoked salmon and muddy lake shore. The ripple of wind in my hair.

But the thing I feel most is Mason’s lips on mine. That, and a love so consuming, I almost can’t breathe.

He’s smiling as we draw back and look into each other’s eyes. “Lock the door, Gentry. Let’s test out the bed.”

“You’re a nutjob, you know that?”

“Yep.” Grinning, he kisses me again. “ Your nutjob.”

I’m so fucking grateful for that. “Forever and ever, huh?”

“Think you can tolerate me that long?”

I pull him back down for another kiss. “You bet your ass I can.”

***

Can I confess something? Writing Mason and Erika’s story was one of the most joyful experiences I’ve had with any of the Cherry Blossom Lake books. Those two just fit , you know?

I’m so happy for Mason and Erika, and excited to see how life turns out for them.

Know what has me even more excited? It’s the prospect of discovering what the heck’s happening between wealthy, polished ice queen Hazel Spencer and prison inmate turned blue-collar construction worker Luke Lovelin.

Guess we’ll all find out soon when Move Me hits shelves in early 2026. Here’s a sneak peek at the first chapter…