Page 11 of The Summer I Stayed (Midlife Meet Cute #5)

Jake

“Thank you, Jake,” she says sincerely, placing her hand on my bicep.

My gaze flickers between her hand and her green eyes. It’s just a whisper of contact, but it’s enough to send my heart hammering against my chest. She quickly withdraws, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“Of course,” I manage to say.

She nods before heading inside, leaving me alone to process whatever that was. What was that? Sure, she’s nice, but I…

And the moment we had earlier when she asked for my opinion on the paint samples. Was that…something?

I shake my head in an attempt to get rid of these strange feelings.

I refocus on the dining table, the sander smoothly running across the wood.

Maybe it’s the heat or the afternoon sun playing tricks on me.

Or maybe it’s just because I’ve been single for a long time and she’s the first woman I’ve spent a lot of time with. That’s got to be it.

I know she told me not to look at her blog, but…I have to look at it.

I’m lying here in bed after an extremely long day of work—between Maggie’s house and a few local projects—and all I can think about is Maggie. It’s been days since she asked for my help, and yet, I keep coming back to that moment and our lunch by the lake.

Her laugh, her teasing smile, it’s all sticking to my thoughts like a song I didn’t mean to like, but now, I can’t stop humming.

So I grab my laptop, type in the URL that Gemma and Edna have both been taunting me with all week, and there it is. Cozy Charm by Maggie.

It’s bright and inviting, just like her.

As I read through her posts, it feels like her voice is in the room with me.

Her energy and enthusiasm pour out with each word, making me smile as if she were here, sharing these stories in person.

Even though I’ve been alongside her through this renovation, I’m enjoying seeing it through her eyes.

The rooms take shape through photos, and snippets describe what’s coming next.

I work backwards to find the first post about the lake house. And when I do, I find myself in the post too. It’s the photo she snapped of me on the roof replacing the tiles. The sun is shining so bright, you can barely tell it’s me. I scroll down to see this one has a lot of comments.

@CraftyCassie: What a view! (and I’m not talking about the lake)

@DIYJen: Hot handyman alert!

I slam my computer shut. Strangers ogling me on the internet? That’s new and…a tad unnerving. I wonder if that’s why she didn’t want me to see it.

I chuckle. I don’t really care about anyone else, but I do want to know what Maggie thinks of me.

And there’s no denying it now—I’m drawn to Maggie Wilkes.

Not just because she’s attractive, that’s a given.

She’s gorgeous. It’s her passion to turn a house into a home, the way she laughs at my dry humor, her determination to learn.

The way she keeps treats in her pockets for Maverick.

The way she only had to ask me once to do that photo booth and I said yes, even though Gemma asked me last week and I turned her down.

I really don’t have time to build the photo booth, but I couldn’t tell Maggie no.

I rub my hands over my face. This isn’t good. I can’t let myself fall for her or get involved. She’s only here temporarily, just passing through while she fixes the house. What if she doesn’t plan on staying?

And yet…I still find myself drawn to her in a way I haven’t in years. Or possibly ever. Not even Gabby from high school. This feels different. This feels like it’s more.

The next day, I decide to tackle the day head-on. Set all thoughts of Maggie aside while I focus on the hardware store.

But as luck would have it, I can’t escape for long.

I’ve barely been at the store for an hour, engrossed in unloading and sorting through new supplies, when Tom walks in.

“Morning.” Tom gives a casual salute.

I give him a noncommittal grunt, but Tom continues.

“Is it about Maggie?”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. “What about Maggie?”

Tom’s grin widens. “You seem to be in a bit of a mood this morning, well, more than usual, and I was wondering if the new girl in town has anything to do with it?”

“Who says I’m in a mood? You just walked in.”

Tom laughs. “You’re as easy to read as a children’s book. Your face gave you away.”

I roll my eyes and continue sorting through supplies, trying to ignore him.

He squints his eyes at me. “You like her, don’t you?”

My hands still for a moment before I resume working in silence.

“Come on, man.” Tom nudges my shoulder. “Is it that hard to admit? I mean, she’s pretty, smart, and everyone in town loves her.”

“And who says I’m looking for someone?” I say through gritted teeth.

Tom shrugs. “No one said you were. But sometimes life gives you things you didn’t know you needed.”

I shake my head. The last thing I need right now is advice on my nonexistent love life from Tom, who’s also in his forties and single.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” I nod, taking a breath.

“How’s that photo booth coming along?” He smirks, and I shove his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Next subject.”

Tom helps me with a few two-man jobs and, thankfully, drops the Maggie subject. Good. I don’t want to hear anyone else bring up or hint at or even remotely suggest anything about Maggie and me together. I’m helping her with her house, and that’s it.

Now that I’m done at the store, I have to meet Maggie to finish painting the photo booth.

The build was fairly straightforward, and we completed it in a single day.

I arrive at the lake house, my truck filled with cans of paint in all colors imaginable.

Maggie has been very specific with her color choices to match the festival theme.

Luckily, I had a bin full of samples for her to choose from.

As I pull into the driveway, my eyes land on Maggie. She’s in a blue flowy dress that hits the floor, with an apron on top, and a bandana keeping her hair out of her face. My, what a sight.

“You’re here!” she exclaims.

Is that excitement for me or the paint?

“The paint’s in the back,” I say, gesturing behind me.

Her eyes light up, and she lets out a squeal. “Let’s go!”

Maggie wastes no time in getting straight to work. The photo booth is arched with a small platform for people to sit on, just like Gemma asked for. I decided to take it an extra step further and make it detachable as well, so they can store it for next summer.

I had more fun with this project than any other I’ve done for the town, and there’s only one thing different—her.

Maggie dips her brush in a vibrant shade of yellow and enthusiastically swings it toward the backdrop, droplets of paint flying onto my shirt.

Her jaw drops. “Oh, Jake! I’m so sorry!” She reaches out, as if to wipe it off but stops mid-motion.

I chuckle. “No harm done.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she joins me in laughter.

I dip my brush into a can of blue paint, mirroring her overzealous swing, causing a spray of blue to rain down on her.

She gasps as a few specks of blue land on her cheek and nose. “Hey! You did that on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She shakes her head, a wide grin on her face, as she retaliates with another flick of her paintbrush. It’s not long before we are both streaked with a rainbow of colors.

Eventually, we return to what we’re actually supposed to be doing—painting the booth—but it’s not nearly as much fun as our paint war.

But I steal glances at her while she is intensely focused on painting.

Her brow furrows in concentration, the tip of her tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth.

As the sun begins to set, we step back to admire our work.

The archway is a stunning blend of colors, each carefully chosen by Maggie.

Her vision was clear from the beginning, and I’ve got to admit that I’m impressed with the final result.

It’s just as Gemma had described it—a whimsical summer dream.

We stand side by side, our hands brushing subtly against each other. I can feel the warmth radiating from her; it’s comforting…familiar.

She breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

I raise an eyebrow at her statement. “Maybe not as fast, but you would’ve found a way.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’ve been great, Jake,” she says sincerely. “Not just with this booth, but with everything at the house too.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

Maggie turns to me, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, and she lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me Jake Hollis just complimented me.”

I roll my eyes in response as I tuck my hands in my pockets. “No promises it will happen again,” I tease, my tone lighter than it’s been for a long time.

She laughs in response, a sound that rings in my ears like a melody. There’s something about the way she takes things in stride, the way her eyes light up when she talks about her blog and fixing up the house. She’s captivating in a way that no other woman has ever been.

I can’t deny it anymore. I’m falling for Maggie Wilkes.