I rip out the last of the drywall in my dad’s dining room and step back, dropping the crumbling material onto the heap in the middle of the floor. I grab my shirt off the floor and wipe my forehead. It comes back soaked with sweat.

“Hey, you started without me!”

Summer’s standing in the doorway in faded jean overalls, a bubblegum-pink t-shirt, and matching Chuck Taylors. I give her a once-over and whistle. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, beautiful.”

“I wasn’t going for cute. I was going for official.”

She cranes her neck back to meet my eyes as I stop in front of her. “I think you’re both—you’re beautifully official.”

Summer rocks up and plants a kiss on my lips. She jerks back with a grimace. “Oh boy, you are one sweaty man.”

“What do you expect? We’re doing a home reno in the middle of August. My shirt was soaked within minutes of starting, and I can’t seem to get enough water.”

She shakes the bags in her hands and winks. “I’ve got you covered there.”

“Oh?” I inch forward. “What’s in there?”

“Water, Gatorade, lasagna—”

“Lasagna?” I inch closer.

“And cupcakes, though they’ve probably melted already.”

I pull her to me. “You’re a lifesaver, babe.”

She squirms against my sweaty chest. “And you’re a hot mess.”

I lean down and rub my face on hers.

“Ew, Koa, get off!”

“Come on, you like it.”

She squeals as I lick her face. “I’ll drop the cupcakes!”

“I dare you,” I growl into her ear. I plant a line of wet kisses down her cheek and across her chin. She giggles as my scruff tickles her neck.

“Are you sure, Koa? Because they’re maple blueberry…”

I let her go. “Why didn’t you say so?” I grab the bags and book it into the kitchen. Everything’s unpacked and in the fridge in record time.

“So where’s your dad?” Summer asks, dumping her purse on the island.

“In town picking out materials.”

She grabs a water bottle from the fridge and takes a long pull. “That’s going to be a lot of materials.”

“I know,” I say wearily. “This is a much bigger project than we imagined.”

Summer shrugs. “How could we have known the place was falling apart?”

That’s exactly the term the contractor used when he came out to give my dad an estimate. He took one look at the house, turned to me, and said: “Gut it.”

So we got to work, all three of us. My dad hired movers to haul everything out of the first floor and into the basement, then met with a designer the next week to draw up plans. He gave Summer and me one task: gut the first floor. So gut it we had.

“Is Jim handling everything okay while we’re out?” Summer asks.

“Yeah, Captain said he’s doing fine.”

It had been nerve-wracking to tell Captain that I’d need to take a week’s vacation to overhaul my dad’s house, but he didn’t even blink an eye. He’d turned to Summer, handed her his credit card, and told her to stock the pantry with every variety of seltzer and Gatorade she could find. “You’ll need it,” he said.

And he’d been one hundred percent right. I knew a gut job wasn’t for the faint of heart, but I wasn’t sure Summer really knew what she was getting into. Luckily, my girlfriend was made of pretty tough stuff.

“I think we’re getting close to done. We’ll be back on the water in no time.”

“You have a lot more walls to tear apart before we’re done,” Summer points out.

I motion to the fridge. “I’ll knock down a brick wall if maple blueberry cupcakes are on the other side.”

“I thought that flavor would get your attention.”

“You know it’s my favorite. Did Grandma Jane make them?” I groan when she nods. “Maybe I’ll just have one right—”

I yelp as she slaps my hand away from the fridge. “I’m not having you pass out from a sugar rush just yet,” Summer scolds. “We have a bathroom to rip out next.”

“We?” I cross my arms over my pecs. “So you’re actually going to help this time?”

Her pink lips twist into a pout. “Hey, I was getting sustenance. Something’s gotta feed all those brawny muscles of yours.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Maybe.” The pout gives way to a coy smile. “Is it working?”

I grab my water bottle off the counter, down it in one go, and toss it into the recycling bin. “Definitely. But first, we’ve got work to do.”

Her eyes sparkle wickedly. “Alright, fine. But I get you later, Mr. Sweaty Muscles.”

I grin at her. “Deal. Now, grab that hammer, babe. You’re going to need it.”

* * *

I toss the sink into the hall and lean against the bathroom wall. “Why is everything mustard yellow?”

“Welcome to the seventies,” Summer mutters. She drops the broom in her hands and props her hands on her knees. “This is seriously exhausting.”

“Bathrooms are the worst. Everything else will be easier, I swear.”

She puffs a strand of hair out of her eyes and looks up at me. “We’re not putting one in, are we?”

“God, no. I’m no plumber. The electrician and plumber come through after everything’s gutted.”

“Thank the Lord for that.” Summer groans as she straightens up. “I think it’s cupcake time.”

“I’m not arguing.” I grab her hand and lead her to the kitchen, helping her navigate through the war zone of drywall, insulation, and yellow formica we magically created in three days. It had been strange to be back in my childhood home, ripping things apart and throwing them in the rented dumpster out front. Strange, but therapeutic.

Now that my dad and I were on surer footing, I was ready to put the past behind me. This project didn’t just mean new countertops and carpets. It meant having a father again.

I turn on the oven and head for the sink, washing my hands for a full minute to get off all the dust and grime. I pat my hands dry, grab the lasagna from the fridge, and turn around. “Dessert before dinner?”

Summer nods. “Please.”

I slide it in the oven, set the timer, and head back for those cupcakes. I grab two and join Summer by the island. “You’ve gotta be tired,” I say, seeing her flushed face and slumped shoulders. “Wanna sit down?”

She glances at the table a few feet away. “I do, but I don’t want to walk.”

“I got you, baby.” I grip her hips and hoist her off the ground, scooting her bottom onto the countertop. “Better?”

She sighs and closes her eyes. “Mhmm.”

I pick up her cupcake and unwrap it for her, carefully pulling the paper away from the moist edges. I break off a small piece and hold it under Summer’s nose, the sweet scent of sugary maple syrup and tart blueberries hitting my nostrils as I wait for her eyes to open.

“This will help,” I say softly as her eyes meet mine. Her lips part, waiting patiently for the sweet hit of sugar I’m promising her. My thumb grazes her full bottom lip as I slide the cake onto her pink tongue, sending a jolt of longing through my arms to my chest. She closes her eyes and moans.

“Summer,” I warn in a low voice, my blood pumping fast through my veins.

“I’m sorry, but it’s so good.”

“That’s not helping.”

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure and desire. “Am I being naughty?”

“Dammit, woman. Are you asking for trouble?”

She runs her tongue over her top lip as she watches my chest rise and fall. “Maybe.”

It’s all I need. The rest of the cupcake goes tumbling onto the counter as I take Summer in my arms. I groan as her mouth finds mine, tasting of pure sugar and whipped cream. Our lips twist, pressing down hard against each other, as our tongues meet in hot, unbridled want.

A breeze blows through the house from the wide open windows, stirring the humid, close air clinging to my bare chest. The air is alive with pine and juniper, spiced with the faint tang of the salty sea.

“I love you,” Summer murmurs against my mouth. I seize her bottom lip between my teeth, too overcome with passion and love to force a reply. I fumble with the straps of her overalls, my hands hasty as my desire for her pushes out all other thoughts.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispers.

My fingers pause at the gold clasps of her overalls, her words stopping their advance to lay her bare. I sigh and butt my forehead against the curve of her shoulder, enjoy the cloying scent of her sweetness. “I don’t want you to leave, but we still have time.”

“I leave this weekend. Don’t you remember?”

“I do, but I don’t like thinking about it.”

Her hand strokes my hair, gathering it tightly in the curl of her fingers. “You know…I’m only going back for my tests. Nothing’s keeping me in New York.”

I lean back and look into her shining eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want to come back and stay the rest of September. Maybe even the whole fall.”

“But…” I grasp around for the hole in this beautiful plan. “What about teaching?”

She draws a slow breath. “I could always start the school year in spring as a substitute teacher.”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“You’re what I want, Koa.”

I reach up to trace the outline of her delicate cheekbones. “I have news of my own.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good, I think. Captain told me he’s retiring. The job’s mine, permanently, if I want it.”

She frowns. “What about your dream of leaving Portland to see the world?”

“Well, what about your dream of being a high school teacher?”

She bites her lip and looks away. “It’s not the same.”

I rest my hand on her shoulder briefly, then slide it down the strap of her overalls, pinching the rough fabric gently between my thumb and finger. “Maybe it’s a little the same.”

“I don’t know what my dream is anymore. Whether it’s New York or teaching or…” Her eyes drift up to mine. “You.”

“I know,” I murmur.

“But I’m not asking you to sacrifice your dream for me. I can teach anywhere, and maybe that’s what I’ll do.”

“Really?”

“Maybe.” Her eyes grow distant as she thinks about it. “But that still means you’re chained to Portland if you take this job.”

“I’d never be chained to any place if you’re there.”

“Oh, Koa—” She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me to her, taking my lips with hers. More is said in that kiss than words ever could, and I meet her love with a tenderness of my own.

She pulls back with a small cry and rests her cheek against my neck. “Nothing’s going to change, will it?” she asks, half begging, half pleading with me.

I ache to hash it out right there, talking deep into the night to figure out what we’re going to do when August gives way to September, but I push the urge down, heightening my own fears to quell hers. Instead I hold her, stroking her soft hair, and tell her that everything’s going to stay the same. I lie because it’s what I want her to believe. I lie because I don’t have the answers.

Who can say what the swift winds of autumn will mean for our summer love, dazzling and bright like the sunlight glinting off the white-capped ocean. Will our love weather the seasons changing, the altered life plans and dreams? Or will it wither and fall to the ground, surrendering in defeat?

I don’t know.

All I know is what I want, and it’s clinging to my chest, whispering her love into my ear, and promising me her heart.

My heart, you see, is already hers. And I now know that it always will be.