She drew in a deep breath, feeling some of the stress from a day hunched over a machine begin to ease from her shoulders.
No place on earth could possibly compare to Lake Haven for perfect summer evenings.
She loved this place. It was part of her. She briefly had dated an airplane pilot who had been appalled when she told him she had never traveled outside of the western United States. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him she rarely even left Lake Haven County and had only been on an airplane twice, both times to attend a fabric trade show in Dallas.
Linda Fremont had not been one to take vacations. That would have required her to close the store or leave it in the hands of her employees, something she had rarely been willing to do.
Besides, they didn’t need to go anywhere else, Linda would often say. Why should they, when they lived in such a beautiful place?
On this, her mother had a point. Still, the world was full of beautiful places. Staying here for her entire life felt a little like choosing to sew every pattern with only one color of fabric.
Where would she go, though? Her entire world existed around this lake.
This wasn’t the night to figure that out, when she was mentally and physically exhausted from sewing all day.
Betsey quickly did her business but didn’t seem in a hurry to go inside so Samantha decided to walk to the water.
Every muscle in her spine and shoulders ached from spending the day either hunched over a sewing machine or using needle and thread for the fine handwork on the wedding dress.
It really would be magnificent. She couldn’t wait to see the finished product.
Yes, making wedding gowns was hard, challenging work but she loved every moment.
She felt strongly that every woman deserved to feel beautiful on her wedding day. Samantha loved being able to do her part to provide that.
She was almost to the dock when she suddenly saw a beam of light coming from the house next door.
Betsey froze in the act of sniffing a tuft of grass, then hurried to hide behind Samantha as Ian Summerhill emerged from the darkness.
Everything inside her seemed to coil, like a bobbin too tightly wound. Her reaction was ridiculous. Okay, he was gorgeous. She couldn’t deny it. The younger version of herself might have tried to flirt and tease and otherwise make a fool of herself.
A few years ago, she would have been entranced by the idea of a gorgeous Englishman living next door. Okay, let’s be honest. She might have had the same reaction to him six months ago, before her mother died and all of her priorities in life shifted.
That was then. She was a different person now. She had four employees, numerous suppliers and dozens of customers who counted on her to keep the doors open at Fremont Fashions. She didn’t have time to nurture a crush on every man who entered her orbit. Heck, she barely had time to shower these days, with all the custom orders she was taking for wedding dresses.
Anyway, if she were going to develop a crush on any man, it certainly wouldn’t be for an unfeeling brute who wouldn’t even let his children grieve for their mother.
Surely she had developed better taste than that, after all these years.
She sighed as the man came closer. He hadn’t seen her yet and she was half tempted to slink into the shadows and skulk back to her house so she could avoid talking to him altogether.
But she needed to ask him about allowing the children to help her with the puppies. When would she find a better opportunity?
“Good evening,” she said.
The flashlight’s trajectory wobbled as he gave a little jolt of surprise. “Oh. Ms. Fremont. I didn’t see you there.”
Maybe because you were too busy being a jerk?
“Sorry to startle you,” she lied. She would have liked the man to fall into the lake, but she supposed that wasn’t very charitable.
This sudden fierce antagonism left her uncomfortable. She was basing her entire opinion on him because of one thing his daughter had said, that he had told them it was time to move on after their mother’s death.
Why was she so upset about that? He was the children’s father. It was his right to parent them as he saw best.
Was it because her mother had done the same thing to Sam when she was his children’s age, refusing to let her talk about losing her father?
Or did it have more to do with her own struggle to move on from her mother’s death?
Neither of those things concerned Ian Summerhill. He was her good friend’s brother. She could at least treat him with politeness.
“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” she tried.
“Yes. Beautiful.” He looked at the stars spread above them for a moment, his features in profile, then turned back to her and held up what looked like a complicated fish finder. “Some of my equipment arrived and I wanted to load it onto the boat so I wouldn’t forget in the morning. Sorry to disturb you. I won’t be long.”
“You’re not bothering me.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need him to know that.
“Again, thank you for allowing me to use your dock for my research boat. It would have been far less convenient if I had to travel to the marina every time I wanted to use it.”
She wanted to tell him she had given permission before discovering what an unfeeling father he was. Now that she knew, she wanted to rescind her approval.
That would be petty and unfair, though. Something her mother would have done. Just because she didn’t like the man’s parenting techniques was no reason to stand in the way of science.
“It’s fine. Do what you need to do. Betsey and I will get out of your way.”
“It is your dock,” he said, his tone crisp, bordering on stiff. “I
