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Man, but it was hot. She wasn’t used to physical labor in the heat. If installing a doggy run counted as labor, that was. Still, she was hot and sticky. Jake had to be even stickier. He was working three times as hard and had yet to take a break.
    “I’m grabbing a cold drink,” she called up to him. “Do you want one?”
    He shook his head and, after pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from his face, continued working.
    “Talk about stubborn,” Zoe said to Reynaldo. The dachshund was laid out dozing on the concrete step. “He wouldn’t accept my offer of a drink while we were on the Vineyard, he wouldn’t take one after his ‘fresh air break,’ and now he’s still refusing. Either the man’s impervious to heat or he wants to be hot and miserable.” After today’s events, she was leaning toward the latter.
    “Well, I don’t care how often he refused, he has to be thirsty. I am.”
    She grabbed two bottles of ice water from the kitchen fridge and made her way to the ladder propped on the side of the house.
    When she reached the roof, she saw Jake had finished his chimney assault. He stood with his backto her, breathing hard. Sweat and soot had turned his light gray T-shirt dark and heavy. The material stuck to his upper back like a dirty second skin. Zoe couldn’t help noticing the muscles underneath. She was close enough that she could see the way they rippled like water every time he breathed deep. A wave of female awareness coiled through her. Even standing still, he moved with grace. Her fingers twitched a little as she wondered what the view might look like beneath the cotton. Was it as hard and taut as the rest of him?
    Flushing, she cleared her thoughts and her throat. “I decided to bring you a drink anyway.”
    His spine stiffened, and she could tell, despite making noise, she’d startled him, making her feel all the more like a voyeur for her earlier thoughts. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were deep in thought. Here.”
    “Do you always do what you want regardless of what people tell you?”
    Talk about a loaded comment. Thoughts of Paul came to mind. “Unfortunately, yes. See, it’s kind of my job to know best. Ever hear of ‘Ask Zoe’?”
    “No.”
    She wasn’t surprised. He didn’t strike her as the type to peruse the arts and lifestyle section. “It’s a nationally syndicated advice column. People write in and ask me what they should do.”
    “And you tell them.”
    “That’s the point of asking me, isn’t it?”
    “What if you’re wrong?”
    What if, indeed. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “as far as bringing you water, I prefer to use the term executive overruling . I don’t need you getting light-headed from dehydration and falling off my roof.”
    Jake slipped the water from her hand. “Afraid of a lawsuit?”
    “One big payout a year is enough, thank you.”
    As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. Once again, she’d said too much. From the way Jake knit his brow, he must have caught her reaction as well. Shoot. Now she felt compelled to explain. “Expensive divorce. And before you say anything, yes, I’m aware of how ironic my situation sounds.”
    “Ironic?”
    “A divorced advice columnist.” She tried for a self-deprecating smile. “Guess I can be wrong sometimes.”
    She was grateful that Jake didn’t reply; he was too busy draining his unwanted water bottle. Zoe tried not to notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow or how his biceps bulged from one simple bend of his arm.
    Instead, she turned her attention to the shore across the street. There weren’t many places where you could get a better bird’s-eye view of the island.Below them, Naushatucket spread out in beige, navy and green glory.
    She scrambled up the last couple of rungs to get a better look, realizing only when she reached her destination how steeply pitched the Cape Cod-style roof was. Standing was awkward at best.
    Pressing a hand to