Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
J uliette couldn’t count the number of times she’d eaten at the Golden Oar in her lifetime. Tonight was completely different than any time before.
Sure, she’d gone there on dates with other men, but the comparison was laughable. There was just something about sitting across from Max Wilson—famous screenwriter and the most distracting man she’d ever shared a meal with.
It wasn’t just that he was handsome. It was the way he leaned in to listen when she spoke, how his gaze stayed on her like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It was dangerous, really. How easy it felt to just… fall.
Between bites of hamburgers and sips of cold beer, they chatted about all of the videos they had posted so far, which had taken on a life of their own online.
“I still can’t believe how many people are watching,” she said, shaking her head. “I think they’re only watching to see you.”
Max grinned. “No, it’s not just me. It’s the remodel. I mean, who doesn’t want to see an old lighthouse turn into something amazing. Plus, it’s you. You make it fun. People like watching you boss me around,” he joked.
She snorted. “Please. They’re there for you and your ‘famous hands.’”
He flexed his fingers dramatically, making her laugh. “Hey, these hands did actual work today. Sort of.”
She smiled over the rim of her glass. “You’re not half bad with a sledgehammer, I’ll give you that much.”
His grin softened and, for a moment, he just watched her, like he was memorizing the moment. Then his gaze drifted out the window towards the dark water of the Pacific outside.
“My sister would love this place,” he said quietly, his gaze turning back to her.
Juliette tilted her head. “Faye, you mean? The one losing her hearing?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She’s struggled her entire life. She just had another surgery, actually. It’s been tough. She’s younger than me by two years and stubborn as hell. Refuses to let it slow her down, but…” He shrugged. “It’s hard watching someone you love go through that.”
Juliette placed her hand on his across the table. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot.”
He glanced down at their hands and flipped his palm up so their fingers linked. “And then there’s Ally, my other sister. Her divorce has gotten so messy. That’s been a whole different circus. Her ex is... well, let’s just say I’ve had to stop myself from driving over there more than once.”
Juliette smiled gently. “Charlotte’s her daughter?”
“Yeah.” He perked up at just the mention of his niece. “She’s two. Smart as hell and completely fearless. My sister says that she spent the weekend sketching out ideas for the kitchen remodel. She sent these photos.” He pulled out his phone and showed her the photo of a bunch of circles and lines in every color in the crayon box. “I can’t understand her colorful lines, but my sister tells me it has to do with adding a slide in the living room. I love them.” He laughed.
“That’s adorable,” Juliette said. “You’re really good with her.”
He shrugged like it was nothing, but the pride in his eyes was obvious.
She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you want kids of your own?”
The question felt heavier than she’d expected, hanging there between them.
Max didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. As many as any woman I’m lucky enough to convince to marry me wants.”
She laughed, but there was heat crawling up her neck. “Wow. That’s quite the sales pitch.”
He winked. “I’m full of those.”
For a second, she imagined what that life might look like. Kids. Holidays. A house full of laughter and chaos. And Max.
God, she was in so much trouble.
“Better keep those videos going then,” she teased, squeezing his hand once before pulling away to finish her drink. “You’re going to need the extra income if you plan on funding a slide in the kitchen.”
“Deal,” he said, smiling like he’d just won something.
And honestly?
Maybe he had.
She lost track of how long they’d been sitting there enjoying one another’s company, and when she glanced around she realized they were the last people in the dining room.
“Gosh, I think they’re going to lock us in here soon.” She laughed and stood up.
He glanced at his watch and stood as well. “Time got away from us. I’ll pay and then walk you out.” They moved over and she stood by as he paid.
Then, to her happy surprise, Max reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers as they strolled out of the now quiet and dimly lit restaurant together. The spring night air was crisp and carried the faintest scent of salt from the ocean. The soft glow of the streetlamps painted golden halos over the sidewalk. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the near-empty parking lot, and, for a moment, everything felt perfect. Simple.
She snuck a glance at him, marveling at the easy way he held her hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they’d been doing it forever.
When they reached her car, he tugged her gently towards him, wrapping her in his arms without hesitation. The warmth of his body seeped into hers as he leaned down, his lips brushing close to her ear.
“This has been the best night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. It sent a little shiver down her spine.
She nodded against his chest, taking a deep breath, and the familiar, intoxicating scent of him surrounded her—clean and woodsy, with that faint musk she was starting to crave more than she cared to admit.
God, she wanted to stay here forever, locked in this moment. Just the two of them.
But then she felt it. A sudden tension in his shoulders. His arms around her stiffened as if someone had flipped a switch.
Before she could ask what was wrong, she heard it—clicking sounds, rapid and sharp like insect wings snapping in the dark. Then came the blinding bursts of white light.
Flashes. Cameras.
Her stomach dropped.
“Go. Go home,” Max whispered urgently, his mouth still close to her ear, but his tone had shifted. Protective. Serious. “I’ll deal with them. See you tomorrow.”
Before she could protest, he was already guiding her towards the driver’s side door with surprising force. The next thing she knew, she was inside the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as another series of blinding flashes went off directly in her face through the windshield.
It was chaos.
Voices shouted out from the shadows. Questions she couldn’t quite make out. The harsh strobe of camera flashes flickered like fireworks, making her vision spotty.
Then, mercifully, Max stepped between her and the pack of photographers, his broad back blocking most of the view. He stood there like a shield, his hands raised slightly as if warning them back.
Juliette’s heart pounded as she started the engine. She tried to ease away from the curb, but it wasn’t easy. Two of the paparazzi moved as if they owned the road, one of them standing directly in front of her car and snapping picture after picture like she was some kind of spectacle.
Why? Wouldn’t the shots all be the same? Her staring like a frozen deer in headlights? Probably looking haggard and very un-Hollywood.
She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. But instead, she gritted her teeth and focused on not hitting anyone as she inched forward.
Max appeared again at the front of her car, his hand gesturing firmly for the photographer to move aside. There was a brief exchange—Max’s voice low but clearly displeased—before the man finally gave up and stepped back with a scowl.
Juliette didn’t wait another second. As soon as the space cleared, she pulled out and drove down the street, her hands trembling around the steering wheel.
In the rear-view mirror, she caught one last glimpse of Max standing there, still facing them down, still protecting her from the onslaught of flashing cameras.
And somehow, that made her heart ache even more than the chaos itself.
By the time she got home, Max had texted her to make sure she’d made it home okay.
“Yes, home safe. You?”
“Just pulled in. Thanks again for going to dinner with me. I was really hoping to end the night with a kiss.”
“Next time. See you tomorrow.” She smiled for the rest of the night.
She woke early the next morning to Sophia’s text messages. There were a few links to articles with images of her and Max from the night before.
Images of them embracing. Of her in the car looking confused and a little annoyed. There were some head-shots of Max that were used a lot in the media. Images of the lighthouse and of their social media pages. She smiled thinking about all the free publicity. After a quick glance at the number of followers, she confirmed that was the case. They had an additional three hundred thousand followers on each platform already.
Smiling and feeling lighthearted, she thought about the day’s projects as she got ready.
Thankfully, none of the articles had taken a nasty tone like the previous one. Every single one mentioned her by name.
By the time she rolled up the driveway and parked in her usual spot, everyone she knew in town was messaging her about the articles.
“Did you see it?” she asked Max when she stepped into the already busy kitchen area.
“What?” he asked, turning to her.
“All the new followers.” She did a little happy dance, and he and a few workers chuckled.
“Okay, yeah, I guess our run-in with the media last night helped.” He wrapped an arm around her. “So, let’s not disappoint our viewers. We’re all set to finish the cupboards today.” He motioned. “Cameras are all set up and ready for you.”
After setting her things down in the other room, she jumped right into setting up the best angles for recording the workers. Max was helping Palmer shift some of the plumbing to prep for the cabinet installations, and she had a stationary camera on them. She used the handheld camera to follow Parker’s team, which was finishing the drywall work on the new walls.
Juliette adjusted the camera strap around her wrist as she moved through the space, careful to stay out of the workers’ way while still capturing the best shots. The rhythmic sounds of hammers, drills, and occasional laughter filled the unfinished kitchen, giving the space a heartbeat of its own.
She crouched down near Parker’s team, filming as they smoothed the last coat of joint compound over the seams in the drywall. The transformation was incredible—just days ago, this part of the kitchen had been nothing but a skeletal frame of wooden studs, and now it was starting to look like a real, livable space.
Switching angles, she zoomed in on the putty knife gliding over the wall, the creamy white plaster blending seamlessly. The footage would be perfect for a transition clip. Maybe she could do a before-and-after montage, showing the kitchen’s progress over the past few days.
Across the room, Max and Palmer worked on repositioning the plumbing, their voices low as they discussed the next steps. The stationary camera she had set up was catching everything, but she still snuck a few close-up shots of Max’s hands as he tightened a pipe fitting.
Even when he was covered in dust and sweat, he looked ridiculously good. It was frustrating, really.
She shook her head and refocused.
After another hour, the drywall crew packed up their tools, and the real fun began—cabinet building and installation.
The building portion of the process was done in the other room to make space for the installation. She set up a camera on a time-lapse mode so viewers would be able to watch the work’s progress quickly.
Then she perched on a step stool to get a wide-angle shot of Palmer’s team as they secured the lower cabinets in place. Max grabbed a drill and helped hold one of the cabinets in place while Palmer lined it up.
“Hey, boss, don’t scratch my work,” Parker teased as he passed by, tossing a rag at Max.
Max caught it effortlessly and smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Juliette grinned as she panned the camera over to capture the exchange. These were the kinds of moments people loved—small glimpses of personality and teamwork that made the renovation process feel personal and real.
After a few hours of work, the lower cabinets were all in place. Before they started on the upper, everyone took a lunch break.
When the scent of fresh tacos wafted through the air and hit her, her stomach growled loudly—loud enough that Max turned to smirk at her.
“Hungry?” he teased, handing her a plate.
She gave him a playful shove before grabbing one. “Starving.”
The crew had gathered around a weathered picnic table on the edge of the hillside, the view stretching out before them in rolling green and blue. The high sun warmed everything, confirming that summer was almost there. A cool breeze rustled the trees. It was the perfect spot to take a break.
Palmer cracked open a soda and leaned back against the table. “Not a bad way to spend a workday, huh?”
Parker nodded as he bit into his taco. “Beats being stuck inside an office, that’s for sure.”
Juliette glanced over at Max, who was watching the horizon with a thoughtful expression. She nudged his arm. “You okay?”
He blinked and turned to her, as if snapping out of a daze. “Yeah, just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Parker joked, earning a round of chuckles from the table.
Max rolled his eyes but smiled. “I was just remembering the last time I did a big project like this. I helped my sister Ally renovate a bathroom in her first house. It was a disaster at first—wrong measurements, missing materials—but somehow, we pulled it together.”
Juliette rested her chin in her hand, intrigued. “Sounds like a fun memory.”
He chuckled. “It was. Charlotte was a baby, she’d sit in her little bouncer and ‘supervise’ while we worked.” His smile softened. “Now she’s all attitude and glitter.”
Juliette grinned. “She sounds like a handful.”
“She is, but she’s the best.” He took a sip of his drink before glancing at her. “You’d like her. She’s got this big personality, always chattering on about everything. Even if you don’t understand a word of it, she keeps you entertained.”
Juliette imagined a mini-Max running around, full of curiosity and mischief, and the thought made her heart warm.
“How’s Faye doing?” she asked, shifting slightly.
Max’s expression dimmed slightly, but he nodded. “She’s doing okay. Still recovering. My mother claims she’s annoyed at having to stay with her but since Ally and Charolette are there as well, she’s sticking it out.” His fingers drummed against the table. “She’s been learning new ways to adapt. Since we all learned sign language, that has been a huge help, but it’s been an adjustment for her.”
Juliette reached out and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “She’s lucky to have such a caring family.”
He looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze, then he smiled. “We’re lucky to have each other.”
For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, watching the view as the rest of the crew laughed and joked around them.
“Do you think you’ll ever return to the bright lights of the city?” she asked finally when her curiosity got the better of her.
“And leave all this behind?” He smirked slightly. “The quiet is so… healing.”
“Sometimes it’s a little too quiet.” She glanced out and watched a seagull swoop down towards the water.
“I don’t think there is such a thing,” he said with a frown. “Not like Faye…” He dropped off and suddenly she felt foolish for her statement.
Of course, Faye was losing her hearing and here she was complaining about quiet.
“I didn’t mean…” she started, but Max’s hand reached out and took hers.
“I know.” He smiled. “No, I don’t plan on ever going back to the city. Last night’s run-in with the paparazzi assured me of that. It’s the one thing I hate about this job.”
“Yeah, but the lights, the attention?” She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “The women.” She wiggled her eyebrows and had him laughing.
“Right now, I’ve got everything I could ever wish for.” He pulled her a little closer. “Well, almost everything.” He winked at her and she grew warm.
“Now I know just how you got all those women.” She laughed, shaking her head. But as she looked at him, watching the easy way he smiled, she realized just how dangerous this was becoming.
When lunch was over, everyone went back inside to work.
She aimed the camera and moved in closer as they lifted the first of the upper cabinets into place. They had put in braces to hold the cabinet up while a worker secured each to the wall with long screws.
By the time they were done with the last cabinet, the golden hues of the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, making the fresh wood gleam.
“Hold it there,” Palmer directed, stepping back to check the alignment.
Juliette adjusted the focus, catching the way Max braced the cabinet with his forearms, his muscles flexing slightly as he held the weight steady. He looked up, catching her watching him through the lens, and smirked.
When they were done, the men rushed around and cleaned up their tools and the trash left behind.
Juliette let the camera rest against her hip as she took in the transformation.
“Wow,” she breathed. “It actually looks like a kitchen again.”
Max wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he stood next to her. “And it’s gonna look even better once we get the stone countertops in.”
Palmer clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad for a day’s work. Soon you’ll have one finished room in this monster of a house.”
Max chuckled and shook Palmer’s hand.
Juliette lifted her camera one last time, capturing the moment—the exhausted but satisfied crew, the golden light spilling in, Max standing in the middle of it all, looking proud and completely in his element.
This was exactly why she loved doing this.
And maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the man at the center of it all.