Chapter Twelve
Thanksgiving at the Seaglass Saloon was a loud, crowded, slightly chaotic affair. The mismatched chairs around the long table didn’t quite fit together, and the plates were a mix of whatever survived the last dishwasher meltdown. Still, for Willa, it felt like home.
Or rather her Seaglass home.
For as long as she could remember, it’d been their family tradition to have Thanksgiving in the saloon and while it wasn’t the coziest of atmospheres, it was somehow always perfect.
Even when it wasn’t.
Right now, it was indeed perfect.
Willa sat across from Cal, doing her best to ignore the way her mother, grandmother, and even Fia kept dropping the most unsubtle soulmate hints humanly possible.
“I always say,” Delia said, passing a basket of rolls, “that a true soulmate will carve the turkey just right. Nice and steady, no unnecessary shredding.”
Cal, who had been expertly carving the turkey with the precision of a surgeon, gave her a small, knowing grin. He’d taken over that duty after Willa’s father, Benji, had been more than happy to hand the chore off to someone else.
“Not everyone’s lucky enough to find a soulmate, though,” her grandmother Maeve chimed in as she heaped sweet potatoes onto her plate. “But sometimes, they’re sitting right across the table from you, and you’d be a fool not to notice.”
Fia covered a laugh with a cough, badly.
Willa focused on her mashed potatoes. She had been ignoring this matchmaking all day.
She had been pretending that she didn’t notice the subtle glances or the not-so-subtle nudges from her family.
She had been pretending that her pulse didn’t kick up every time Cal’s knee brushed hers under the table.
Except she wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending.
Because Cal was definitely looking at her like he was replaying every inch of their last night together.
And she was definitely thinking about it, too. Thinking about his hands, his mouth, the low rumble of his voice when he said her name against her skin.
She stabbed a piece of turkey with maybe a little more force than necessary. When she glanced up, Cal’s eyes met hers. The spark there was impossible to miss. His slow, heated smile sent a rush of heat straight through her.
They both looked away at the same time, but the damage was done. She was already wondering how quickly they could escape after dessert.
Willa tuned out her family’s soulmate chatter as she spooned cranberry sauce onto her plate, her mind slipping back over the last couple of weeks with Cal.
There had been dates. Actual dates. Walks on the beach, late-night coffee runs, movie marathons on his couch that always ended with her tangled up in his sheets.
And the sex.
Sweet heaven, the sex.
She had never laughed so much in bed with someone. Or outside of it, really. He made her smile. He made her feel seen. He made her happy in a way that caught her off guard every time she let herself slow down long enough to notice.
And yeah, she had fallen for him. Hard.
But she wasn’t going to push. She wasn’t going to poke around, trying to drag his feelings into the open. That was a fast track to ruining what they had.
She just wanted to take things slow. Let it unfold. Let it be whatever it was supposed to be.
And, okay, have a lot more sex.
Preferably soon. Preferably somewhere that didn’t have paper turkey decorations leering at her.
Across the table, Cal caught her staring and gave her a slow, secret smile that sent heat zipping straight through her. Willa quickly focused on her green beans, but the damage was done.
It was going to be a long dinner.
The pounding at the front door shook Willa right out of her cranberry sauce daydream. It wasn’t a polite knock. It was the kind of pounding that said someone was either really angry or trying to sell something aggressively.
Willa got to her feet, muttering, “If that’s a door-to-door turkey fryer salesman, I swear I’m going to lose it.”
She pulled the door open and nearly groaned out loud. “Brent. Perfect.”
He was soaked from the rain, face twisted in fury. He stormed right in without waiting for an invitation.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Willa snapped, stepping in front of him. “It’s Thanksgiving, Brent.”
“Yeah?” His eyes blazed. “Seems like a great day to ruin someone’s life. Funny, you already started.”
“What are you talking about?” she snapped.
He shoved his phone in her face, his thumb jabbing at the screen. “This. This video.”
Willa’s stomach dropped as she caught sight of the screen. It was Brent. In bed. With a masked woman. There was no mistaking the footage. It was explicit, and it had her name tagged as the person who uploaded it.
“What the hell, Brent? I didn’t post this.” Her throat tightened as the panic swelled. “I wouldn’t do this. I don’t even have this video.”
He scoffed. “Save it. Your name’s right there. You’ve been gunning for me since the breakup. This was your chance, right? Payback for everything.”
Willa opened her mouth to argue when the front door flew open again. Lark and Sawyer rushed in, both drenched and furious.
“Why was our vlog tagged in this garbage?” Lark shouted, holding up her phone. “This is not what we signed up for.”
Sawyer scowled, his expression dark. “You dragged our brand into a revenge stunt?”
“I didn’t do this,” Willa said quickly, her pulse thundering in her ears. “I swear to you, I didn’t post this.”
Cal appeared in the doorway behind her, his gaze bouncing from Brent to Lark and Sawyer, then landing on Willa.
“I know you didn’t,” Cal assured her.
His words steadied her, but Brent was still fuming. “Oh, sure. Of course he believes you. Must be nice.”
Willa turned to Brent, her voice sharp now. “I’m telling you, I didn’t post this. And I’m going to prove it.”
Brent’s glare burned, but before he could fire back, Delia appeared behind Willa, her hands on her hips and a wooden spoon in one hand. “What’s going on here? People are trying to digest sweet potatoes, you know.”
No one answered. The room was thick with tension, but Willa’s heart had already locked on the one thing that mattered—Cal believed her.
And she was going to figure out who was behind this.
Delia stepped forward and clapped her hands. “All right, everyone. Inside. We are not handling this circus on the doorstep like a bunch of caffeinated squirrels.”
Brent looked like he wanted to argue, but Delia’s sharp stare left him no room to protest. Lark and Sawyer exchanged glances, then reluctantly stepped in out of the rain.
Maeve crossed her arms and leveled Brent with a glare that would have made a grown man confess to crimes he didn’t commit. Her gaze drifted to his crotch, slow and pointed. Brent shifted on his feet and awkwardly scratched his leg like something had started itching.
Willa pressed her lips together, trying not to smirk.
Fia’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out quickly. “Oh my God,” she said, her eyes wide as she read the screen. “Someone just sent me the video. I’m betting half the town is watching it now.”
Before Willa could fully process that, Cal’s phone rang. He checked the caller ID and muttered, “It’s my office manager,” he said before he answered the call. “Hey, Darlene.”
His voice tightened as he listened. “Yeah. No, I saw it.”
Willa inched closer, catching bits of the conversation.
Darlene’s voice was loud enough for Willa to hear. “Why is your company tagged in this? I just got an alert, and now I’ve got an irate sponsor on the phone asking why your business is suddenly in bed—literally—with some revenge scandal.”
Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out.”
Willa’s stomach dropped, a cold weight settling there. Cal’s business. His reputation. It was all tangled up in this. And someone had made sure of it.
Lark crossed her arms and gave Willa a tight, polished smile. “We’ll be in touch. You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”
Sawyer’s jaw flexed. “We’re very good at punishing people for this sort of thing.”
Willa’s heart dropped, but she forced herself to stand tall. “I didn’t do this.”
Lark’s gaze drifted around the Seaglass, slow and pointed, as if mentally measuring the walls. “I hope you won’t lose this place in the lawsuit,” she said quietly, but her words landed like a grenade.
Brent straightened, smugness creeping back into his expression. “Oh, I’ll be suing, too. Hope you’ve got good insurance.”
Delia’s grip on her wooden spoon tightened, and Willa could see her mom’s nostrils flare. She was two seconds away from launching a verbal attack—or the spoon—at all three of them.
But Willa touched her arm, silently asking her to stand down.
Lark and Sawyer turned and walked out, not bothering to say goodbye. Brent hesitated at the door just long enough to shoot Willa a satisfied look before following them into the rain.
The door clicked shut.
Silence.
Willa’s stomach twisted as she turned toward Cal, her chest tightening with the weight of what had just dropped into their laps.
“They’re serious,” she whispered. “They could really try to take the Seaglass.”
Cal’s jaw was tight, his eyes still fixed on the door. “They could try, but that doesn’t mean they’ll win.”
It didn’t mean they’d lose either. The Seaglass was family owned, and while it made good money, she wasn’t sure they had the ready funds for a big legal fight with vloggers who were probably filthy rich.
“Besides,” he went on, “they’d have to prove their claim that you posted that, and you didn’t.”
No, she hadn’t, but Willa wasn’t sure how to convince Lark, Sawyer and Brent that she’d done nothing wrong.
If it came to a lawsuit, she’d have to defend herself, would have to prove she hadn’t put up that icky video of her ex in the throes of…
something she didn’t even want to think about when it came to Brent.
Cal’s phone buzzed again, and when he glanced at the screen, his expression darkened even more.
Willa already knew what that meant.
This wasn’t just about her anymore. It wasn’t just her reputation or the Seaglass at stake. Now Cal’s business—his career, his life back in Dallas—was on the line, too.
And the worst part?
If it came down to saving his future or staying tangled up with hers, Willa already knew exactly what Cal should do.
She met his gaze, her throat tight but her voice steady, and her heart breaking. “My advice. Take a huge step away from this so you don’t get caught up in the crossfire any more than you already are.” She swallowed hard and said the rest, “You should let me go.”