CHAPTER 5
Neely
It was a kiss. No big deal. People kiss.
And summer flings are a thing. So, why can’t I have one? Kissing Tate doesn’t change any of my plans. I’ll still head to Oregon in the fall.
It’s fine. It’s fun. Nothing is wrong with a bit of fun.
Tate leads the way into the restaurant, and a curly-haired woman in her fifties grins at Tate. “Saw that.”
"Bev," Tate says, unbothered, steering me toward a booth with two fingers at my lower back. And I like it way more than I should.
Bev follows us with a couple of menus. "That may have been the most entertaining thing I’ve ever seen through those windows,” she says, gesturing to the big windows that face Main Street. "I know Tate wants the meatloaf. How about you, dear?”
“Meatloaf is fine,” I say, though I’m not the biggest fan of meatloaf. When Bev walks away, I turn to face Tate. “Did I just meet the town gossip?”
Tate laughs. “No. Bev doesn’t gossip, but she does know everything. Unfortunately, she does share information with people in her inner circle—and that happens to be my family.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She’ll tell your family about our kiss?”
“Without a doubt. In fact, I bet she already has.”
The meatloaf arrives, and I’m forced to take back every negative thought I’ve ever had about meatloaf.
I don’t know how Bev did it, but her meatloaf tastes better than any meal I’ve ever had in my life.
I'm halfway through it when the door chimes and a woman comes in with a stroller and a boy in a green dinosaur t-shirt.
The boy spots Tate and launches toward him.
"Uncle Tate! Is it true there's a bear? Dylan said there's a bear. Did you catch it? Can I see it?"
Tate catches him one-armed without spilling his coffee, an obvious veteran move. "There's a bear. Nobody's catching him. He should get to live happily in the mountains, same as us. You want to help him, keep your granola bars zipped up at the lake. Deal?"
"Deal." The kid, Jonas, I learn, is eight, missing a tooth, and obsessed with big animals.
Extinct dinosaurs and bears alike. He gives us an animated and unbroken narrative about a documentary he saw where a grizzly bear killed a moose.
While he chatters happily to Tate, the woman introduces herself to me.
"Bianca," she says. "The sister. This is Lia." The stroller contains a sleeping toddler with a death grip on a stuffed trout. "You're the camp host? Bev texted me."
"Bev texted you in the last six minutes?"
"Bev texted the group chat." Bianca slides into the booth next to her brother and steals one of his fries.
“Group chat?” I ask.
That catches Tate’s attention. He turns to look at us. “Did I hear group chat?”
Bianca grins. “You sure did. I bet you were included.”
He glances at his phone and groans. I want to know what the message says. Is there photographic evidence? We certainly kissed long enough for someone to snap a photo. But I’m too embarrassed in front of Bianca to ask.
“So, Neely,” Bianca says, “How are you finding our little town?"
“Whispering Pines is charming.”
It’s true but it’s not the whole truth. Which I must admit to myself as I watch Tate’s nephew climb him like playground equipment.
Jonas peppers him with question after question, and Tate answers each patiently.
No, grizzly bears don’t typically eat moose.
No, our bear isn’t a grizzly, he’s a black bear.
No, they don’t eat moose either. Don’t call the bear, Doug, Jonas…
it’s a wild animal and doesn’t have a name.
No matter what Mr. Ollie says about his cute face.
At that, Tate sighs and mutters, Sometimes, Uncle Tate wants to shake Mr. Ollie.
Whispering Pines isn’t just charming. It’s dangerous. Because there are things here that make me think about staying. Tate makes me want to stay.
Nope. I’m not staying. I’m heading to Oregon in 3 months. No ifs, ands, or buts.
After lunch, Tate takes me along on a few more errands. Neither of us mention the kiss, but Tate places his hand at my back through doorways, and I like it way more than I should.
The drive back to the campground is quiet, but in a comfortable way. Tate breaks the silence, saying, “I’m glad you went into town with me today. Whispering Pines has the best people.”
“They all seem nice,” I agree, “and your family is lovely.”
And I need to keep my distance from them before they get their hooks in me, too. No attachments; that’s my rule. This is a temporary job assignment. Nothing more.
We crest into the campground turnoff and Tate’s radio crackles to life. Tessa's voice comes through, brisk as ever. “There’s a weather advisory for the district, a cold front dropping in from the northwest, thunderstorms expected after dark, gusts to forty miles per hour.
Tate glances at me. “Copy, Tessa. Ponderosa Flats is at full occupancy for the weekend.”
"Batten down the hatches,” she advises. "Also, your bear was on the game camera at the creek crossing at two this afternoon. He's getting a bit too close for comfort again, Tate.”
He signs off and looks at me, and there's nothing romantic in his face right now. "Full campground, stormy after dark, and a bear that seems to have stopped being fearful of humans," he says. "We've got about three hours of daylight. I'm going to need my campground host."
"Then it's a good thing you drove her home," I say, and I'm reaching for the flyers to hang around the campground before the truck fully stops.