Page 2 of The Summer I Stayed (Midlife Meet Cute #5)

Jake

I lock up Hollis Hardware, tugging my worn baseball cap low over my eyes.

My grandfather built this place from scratch and handed it to my parents when he passed away.

Now, it’s my responsibility. Not that I mind much now.

It gives me a reason to wake up each day.

That, and the oversized mutt panting at my side.

Maverick, my gray Great Dane, lumbers along, his big dumb heart practically wagging his tail off. He’s always with me, whether we’re at the store, at home, or doing odd jobs around town. Doesn’t matter where. He’s better company than most people.

This week’s been a nightmare. A storm tore through, leaving roof tiles scattered, fences toppled, and gardens torn to shreds.

My to-do list is longer than the line at Driftwood Diner on a Sunday.

We trudge toward the lake houses, where the wind hit the hardest. Some homes are relatively unscathed, but others, like the Wilkes’ next door, look like they’ve been through a blender.

Nobody’s lived there in years, but Gemma said she called the owner.

I met him once when he bought the place but haven’t seen him or anyone else at that house since.

It’s a mess—the porch swing has splintered wood and torn upholstery.

Windows are smashed, shutters ripped away.

Debris clings to the siding like it’s holding on for dear life.

I should’ve come by sooner to board up things, but I’ve been fixing half the town.

There’s been no time to play hero for an empty house.

A gust of wind kicks up leaves, and Maverick, the genius, decides it’s playtime. He chases them like a puppy half his size, all 150 pounds of him flopping around in the grass.

The front door bursts open with a loud bang, swaying in the wind.

I step onto the porch when I hear a loud crash echoing from inside.

I look back at Maverick, who’s happily rolling around, and grumble.

I take a step inside, bracing myself to find a raccoon who slipped in through one of the broken windows.

An unexpected sight unfolds in front of me: a woman in a floral sundress standing there armed with a hefty piece of wood like she’s auditioning for the major leagues. She’s squaring off with a raccoon that’s helping itself to the contents of a Driftwood Diner container.

I freeze, eyebrows raised. I’ve dealt with intruders before—raccoons, squirrels, even a deer once—but never a human one. Especially not one who looks like she’s come straight out of a summer fashion catalog.

She swings the plank like she’s aiming for a home run.

The sudden movement startles me, and I instinctively duck, the board sailing over my head and clattering to the floor behind me.

Maverick, naturally, picks this moment to barge in, tail wagging like he’s joining the party.

The raccoon, seemingly unbothered by the flying board or the large dog now eying it, continues to nibble at the food.

“Maverick, stay!” I snap, but it’s too late. He lunges forward with a bark that’s more playful than threatening. The woman shrieks as he charges past her. The raccoon finally bolts, scattering fries across the floor like confetti.

The woman spins around at Maverick’s sudden entrance, her green eyes wide. She stumbles back, her foot catching on the edge of the carpet. Her arms flail as she fights for balance. I lunge forward, catching her just before she hits the ground.

“Oh!” she exclaims, clutching at my flannel shirt. “I didn’t...mean to...”

“Watch your step,” I grunt, setting her upright. Her green eyes lock on mine, big and startled. “He’s friendly,” I add.

She brushes her dress off. “The dog or the raccoon?” she asks, her voice half-joking, half-panicking.

I rub the back of my neck, fighting a smirk. “The dog. Can’t say much for the raccoon.”

“My first day here, and I’m already fighting wildlife. Should I be worried?”

“Mostly harmless unless you’re a trash can,” I reply, watching as Maverick chases the raccoon down the hallway.

“Or a container of food,” she adds, examining the mauled takeaway box. “I’m Maggie, by the way, Maggie Wilkes. I…own this place,” she introduces herself with uncertainty tinging her words.

I take her hand in mine for a brief shake. “Jake Hollis, fixes things.”

Her eyes light up in recognition. “You’re Jake? Gemma mentioned you’d come by to check the damage.”

I nod in response. Of course, Gemma had to mention me. Was I going to come by? Yes. But did I want to come by when the owner’s home? No.

I take in the condition of the home’s interior. Besides some broken glass from the windows, there doesn’t seem to be much damage here in the living room. The rest of the house may be a different story, though. I’ll take a look around and see what we’re dealing with.

From the kitchen, a soft whimper from Maverick catches my attention. Guess I’ll start in there. Stepping into the kitchen, I find Maverick nudging a cabinet door open, his nose working furiously as he lets out another plaintive whine. I slowly open the door to glimpse inside.

As if a woman wielding a 2x4 and a rogue raccoon wasn’t already enough, now we have a litter of baby raccoons to contend with.

“Looks like we’ve got more guests. Got any more boards?” I ask, turning to Maggie.

She pauses, blinking at me for a moment, before walking beside me. She peeks inside the cabinet; her eyes widen further as she takes in the situation. “Oh, great! More woodland creatures to fend off.”

“Seems like it. I’ll give Randy a call.”

“Randy?” Maggie queries, sweeping her brunette waves back from her face.

“The local animal guy,” I clarify. “He’s the one you call when you have raccoons taking over your house.”

She laughs lightly and nods.

“He’ll relocate them for you. Unless you want to live with the, uh, woodland creatures.”

“Absolutely not.”

As I dial Randy’s number, Maverick paws at one of the babies in curiosity. The raccoon squeals and rushes back toward its siblings, making Maverick yelp in surprise.

Maggie chuckles, surprising me with her lightness despite the chaos. “You weren’t expecting that, were you, big guy?” she coos at my dog, who’s now sitting a safe distance away from the cabinet.

“They are kind of cute, I guess,” she comments, peering in the cabinet again.

“Until they bite your finger off,” I add with a shake of my head.

“Touché,” she replies, standing back up and taking a few steps away. Her eyes meet mine, a hint of amusement sparkling in them. “I guess I’ll have to get used to the wildlife around here.”

“Or you could just keep your windows closed.”

“Point taken.”

Maverick sniffs Maggie, then licks her hand.

“All the chaos, and we haven’t properly met. Hello, Maverick. I’m Maggie.”

Mav gives a gentle bark and lifts his paw for her to shake. Maggie glances at me and chuckles before grabbing his paw and shaking it. “You’re such a good boy, Maverick. Aren’t you?”

And there he goes…making friends with everyone per usual. I watch as Maggie coos over him. Maverick’s tail wags in delight, his tongue hanging out as he nuzzles his head further into her hand. Traitor.