Read Online Summer at Oyster Bay: A gorgeous feel good summer romance by Jenny Hale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Hale
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lived on meager wages that she’d made working at a donut shop. “Did you have fun there?”
“Fun?” He said the word as if it didn’t feel right in his mouth. “I didn’t have any time for fun.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, noticing the curiosity that showed on his face when she said it. “I had a lot of fun at my college. My sister, Rachel, her husband—then boyfriend—Jeff and I were all there. We used to have these game nights on Fridays. They were so much fun! We still have them, or at least we did until a few years ago when I moved to Richmond. What do you do for fun?”
“I remodel things, although I haven’t had a whole lot of time to do it.” He’d leaned back in his chair, his body turned toward her, his face so relaxed now. Emily was delighted that what she was doing was working. And she loved that the conversation was beginning to feel more natural between them. She wanted to know more about him, even though she knew that wasn’t the goal.
“What kinds of things?”
“Furniture, rooms in my house—I once stripped a room down to the studs just to build it back up exactly the way I wanted it.” He smiled, excitement in those blue eyes of his.
“That’s amazing. How did it turn out?”
“It turned out great.”
“I have something to show you,” she said, more animated than she should be. She couldn’t help it; she’d found common ground. “Come with me.” She stood up, slipped her old boots on, and opened the back door off the kitchen. “Wait right here,” she said once they were outside. Then, as quickly as she could, she ran the long path to the barn.
“What is that?” Charlie shouted as she rounded the corner in the old tractor. Its green paint was faded and the tire treads were muddy, the engine vibrating so loudly, she almost hadn’t heard his question, but the cab was roomy, and its giant tires could easily maneuver over the rough landscape.
“It’s my papa’s old John Deere tractor. Hop in!” she called through the open window, unlatching the door.
She could see the deliberation and wariness surface again, but he grabbed a hold of the large handles and hoisted himself up, scooting in beside her. “You can drive this thing?” he asked as he shut his door.
“I’ve driven this longer than I’ve been driving cars. I started on my Papa’s lap.” She put it in gear and bumped along the clearing toward a wide path leading through the woods. “When I was little, my grandfather would put the farm wagon on the back and fill it with straw. He’d give my friends and me hayrides. It was so much fun!”
“And why are we in this tractor now?”
“Because it’s too far to walk, and I want to show you something.”
They arrived at another clearing, and she turned off the tractor. When the silence had returned, Emily could hear that friendly sound of the water calling to her, begging her to show Charlie. She opened her door and hopped down onto the wild grass.
“You might want to take your shoes off,” she said, slipping her boots off with one hand and steadying herself against the tractor with the other.
Charlie, who was wearing dress-casual loafers with his shorts, took them off and set them up inside the tractor. Then he walked around to her side.
“Follow me,” she said, her hair blowing into her face. She tucked it behind her ear. With Charlie behind her, she walked over a small hill covered in sea grass and rocks, until her feet met the fine sand of the bay. She swallowed, emotion welling up inside her, as she saw the long dock that her grandfather had built.
She took him over to Papa’s old wooden boat, the paint nearly gone, the grains showing through it.
Charlie walked around it, his head tilted to the side, his face giving away his interest.
“I’ve thought about restoring it,” she said.
He looked up.
She’d considered restoring the boat even living in Richmond. She wanted to read up on the best way to strip the paint and apply more
“Fun?” He said the word as if it didn’t feel right in his mouth. “I didn’t have any time for fun.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, noticing the curiosity that showed on his face when she said it. “I had a lot of fun at my college. My sister, Rachel, her husband—then boyfriend—Jeff and I were all there. We used to have these game nights on Fridays. They were so much fun! We still have them, or at least we did until a few years ago when I moved to Richmond. What do you do for fun?”
“I remodel things, although I haven’t had a whole lot of time to do it.” He’d leaned back in his chair, his body turned toward her, his face so relaxed now. Emily was delighted that what she was doing was working. And she loved that the conversation was beginning to feel more natural between them. She wanted to know more about him, even though she knew that wasn’t the goal.
“What kinds of things?”
“Furniture, rooms in my house—I once stripped a room down to the studs just to build it back up exactly the way I wanted it.” He smiled, excitement in those blue eyes of his.
“That’s amazing. How did it turn out?”
“It turned out great.”
“I have something to show you,” she said, more animated than she should be. She couldn’t help it; she’d found common ground. “Come with me.” She stood up, slipped her old boots on, and opened the back door off the kitchen. “Wait right here,” she said once they were outside. Then, as quickly as she could, she ran the long path to the barn.
“What is that?” Charlie shouted as she rounded the corner in the old tractor. Its green paint was faded and the tire treads were muddy, the engine vibrating so loudly, she almost hadn’t heard his question, but the cab was roomy, and its giant tires could easily maneuver over the rough landscape.
“It’s my papa’s old John Deere tractor. Hop in!” she called through the open window, unlatching the door.
She could see the deliberation and wariness surface again, but he grabbed a hold of the large handles and hoisted himself up, scooting in beside her. “You can drive this thing?” he asked as he shut his door.
“I’ve driven this longer than I’ve been driving cars. I started on my Papa’s lap.” She put it in gear and bumped along the clearing toward a wide path leading through the woods. “When I was little, my grandfather would put the farm wagon on the back and fill it with straw. He’d give my friends and me hayrides. It was so much fun!”
“And why are we in this tractor now?”
“Because it’s too far to walk, and I want to show you something.”
They arrived at another clearing, and she turned off the tractor. When the silence had returned, Emily could hear that friendly sound of the water calling to her, begging her to show Charlie. She opened her door and hopped down onto the wild grass.
“You might want to take your shoes off,” she said, slipping her boots off with one hand and steadying herself against the tractor with the other.
Charlie, who was wearing dress-casual loafers with his shorts, took them off and set them up inside the tractor. Then he walked around to her side.
“Follow me,” she said, her hair blowing into her face. She tucked it behind her ear. With Charlie behind her, she walked over a small hill covered in sea grass and rocks, until her feet met the fine sand of the bay. She swallowed, emotion welling up inside her, as she saw the long dock that her grandfather had built.
She took him over to Papa’s old wooden boat, the paint nearly gone, the grains showing through it.
Charlie walked around it, his head tilted to the side, his face giving away his interest.
“I’ve thought about restoring it,” she said.
He looked up.
She’d considered restoring the boat even living in Richmond. She wanted to read up on the best way to strip the paint and apply more
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