Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

Of course he has. That news must’ve spread like wildfire. It feels like a bitter pill I have to swallow every time I run into someone new. When I left, I was sure I’d never have to come back for more than a holiday visit. I force a smile, because it isn’t Harry’s fault I feel the way I do. “Sure am. How are things with you? Looks like it’s business as usual around here.”

He hoists up his pants by the suspenders and rocks back on his heels. “Doing better than ever, actually. Hired on some new summer help to keep up with things. Plus, my son got himself engaged to sweet little Miss Claire Bell. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Of course, I saw Claire the other day. Congratulations, that’s such exciting news.”

“Sure is. The missus is hoping they’re not gonna wait too long to start giving her grandbabies to look after. Anyway, Claire’s planning to help out around here, but she’s been busy with online classes and working at Tom’s Diner. Her sister works at the rental shop by the beach, but I’m sure you already know that. You and Allie were thick as thieves back when you were kids.”

“That we were.” I nod my agreement.

“Have you run into her since you’ve been back in town?”

“Not yet, but soon, I’m sure.” I don’t know how excited Allie will be, actually. In the years since I moved to Chicago, I allowed my friendships to languish, too busy with work and my new life to make time for them. At first there were phone calls and text messages, but over the years they got fewer and farther between until they were mostly happy-birthday GIFs or holiday wishes. And whenever I came back to town, I’d spend a few days with my family and Bee and leave again. Mostly it’s been work and sleep and not much else since I’ve been back in Pearl Lake.

I give Harry the list of things I need and am pleasantly surprised when he can fill almost everything on order. As expected, he can’t provide the flooring option, but he puts in a call to a distributor in Chicago and gets us his wholesale discount. I feel good about the fact that we get to support local, and we’re able to get a better deal on the flooring by taking advantage of Harry’s contacts.

“I heard Tommy’s working here now too. Is he around?”

“Sure is. He’s out back. If ya want, you can head back and talk to him directly about some of the supplies, see if we have what you need on hand or whether we’ll have to place an order. Or I can do it if you’re in a rush.”

“I can do it; thanks again, Harry. And I’m glad things are going so well.”

He tips his hat, gives me a wink, and then opens the door, ushering me into the lumberyard behind the store. I breathe in the fresh scent of cut wood. The sharp smell of cedar makes me smile. The scent lingers long after the construction phase is over, warm and sweet and comforting.

I spot Tommy at the back of the lot. He’s impossible to miss. His large, bulky frame has filled out and then some since I last saw him. Where his dad is tall and lean with a small paunch, Tommy is broad and thick, like he was built for swinging an ax. He was always a nice kid who got into a little trouble back in the day, but he never meant any harm.

I tuck my thumbs in my pockets and head for him. I’m less than fifteen feet away when I realize he’s talking to someone else. As I get closer, I realize it’s Bee’s grandson. Van.

Before I can do an about-face and tell Harry I’ll call the order in, Tommy’s gaze shifts my way and his face lights up like a winning slot machine. “Holy shit! Darlin’ Stitch! Claire told me you was back in town.” He makes a face and addresses Van. “Sorry ’bout my language.”

Van shrugs and mutters something I don’t hear, but he looks my way, eyes falling from my head to my feet. Today I’m dressed in jean shorts and a company T-shirt that’s about three sizes too big because all they have in stock are large, extra large, and double XL. It’s twisted up and tucked into one side of my waistband to keep it out of the way. I’m also wearing an old pair of work boots from back when I was a teenager and into floral-print Doc Martens.

“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt. I can come back later.” I glance at Van suspiciously.

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m just about to grab a few things for Van here. Did ya know he’s Bee’s grandson?”

I force a stiff smile. “Yup. We met a couple of days ago.”

“Well, that’s great. You’ve got some real fine neighbors, Van. Darlin’s dad runs Footprint Renos, so if you’re needin’ any help, I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige. I’ll be right back.”

Before Van or I can stop him, Tommy’s off, leaving us on our own. An awkward silence follows. One in which the memory of exactly what I walked in on the other day returns in ridiculous detail. Today Van is dressed in a ratty T-shirt with a college logo on it, a pair of black shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses, and an old ball cap. My eyes skip from his feet, pausing briefly at the waist because the stupid memory of him naked refuses to go away, before moving all the way to the brim of his hat. It’s from the same college in Chicago I went to.

I cross my arms. “What are you doing here?”

He mirrors the movement. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.” What the heck is wrong with me? I’m acting like an angry PMSing teenager.