Page 38 of The Maine Event

I smirk, hopping down from the driver’s seat—seriously, this thing requires climbing—and shut the door with a solidthunk. “Yes. For the absolute lack of functional rental cars in this state.”

He whistles low, eyeing the truck. “You planning on hauling lumber after the party? Maybe joining a construction crew?”

I toss my keys in the air and catch them. “Actually, I was thinking of starting a side hustle in competitive mudding. Think I could pull it off?”

Dan tilts his head, pretending to consider. “I don’t know. You might need to swap out the heels for work boots first.”

I glance down at my ankle boots and shrug. “Fashionable and functional. I’m a woman of many talents.”

He chuckles, stepping forward to grab the bags from my hands. “Come on, city girl. Let’s get you inside before you start scaring the locals.”

I follow him up the steps, grinning. “You are aware you’re one of the locals, right?”

“Yeah,” he calls over his shoulder, “which is why I’m speaking from experience.”

I shake my head, amused, as he pushes open the door and steps aside to let me in. The house smells like fresh wood and coffee, and something about it—about being here—feels oddly… easy. Familiar, even.

Which is a dangerous feeling.

I shake it off, dropping my keys onto the counter.

“Alright. Let’s plan a party.”

“So,” he says, leaning against the fridge, “what’s left to do? I can help.”

I pause, hands hovering over the checklist. I can feel his restlessness, the way his eyes keep flicking toward the backyard, where the half-painted boathouse sits waiting.

I smirk. “You really want to help with party prep?”

He shrugs, pushing off the fridge. “I don’t mind.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You don’t mind, or you’d rather be outside putting another coat of paint on the boathouse?”

Dan scoffs. “Do you think it needs it?”

I cross my arms, tilting my head. “You clearly do, the way you’re looking at it…” I let the sentence hang, teasing.

His mouth twitches, like he wants to argue but knows I’ve got him. He glances out the window, just for a second.

I sigh dramatically, waving him off. “Go. Paint. Bond with your structure. I can handle the rest.”

Dan hesitates. “You sure?”

I gesture to the neatly arranged decorations, which all need to be hanged. “I’ve got this. Besides, you’ll probably just get in the way.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But if you need anything?—”

“I won’t,” I cut in.

He points a finger at me as he backs toward the door. “If you change your mind?—”

“I won’t,” I repeat, grinning.

He huffs out a laugh and finally gives in. “Alright, alright. Yell if you need me.”

I watch as he heads outside, already pulling his hoodie over his head like he’s been waiting all morning to get back to work. The second he steps onto the dock, his shoulders relax, and I shake my head.

Yeah. He really wants the boathouse to shine.

---