Four.
Shea
Cup O’ Joe isn’t exactly what I envisioned when Callie told me the local café had the best coffee she had ever tasted. The place is…smaller than I expected. Although, the whole town is smaller than I expected when I got here.
Tyler also seems skeptical. “This is it?” he deadpans, freeing his seatbelt and letting it smack the door with a clang. “I thought you said this place was like Starbucks.”
I sigh. This kid is impossible to please.
My father’s assistant set us up with a two-bedroom suite at the resort for the next two months.
Complete with 24/7 room service at no charge and all-access passes to any events and amenities the resort has to offer.
It’s a free vacation, and all this kid can talk about is where the closest Starbucks is.
Spoiler: it’s over an hour away…
“Grab the camera,” I tell him as we get out of the rental my father’s assistant also set up for us.
A sleek, brand-new, fully loaded Escalade in pearl white.
To say he’s trying to impress his new stepson is an understatement given he’s never done anything like this for me.
A discount to stay at his resorts, sure, but not a six-week, all expenses paid vacation alongside a few lame hours of online classes during the week.
Tyler grabs the simple camera I bought specifically for this project after some research online about what the popular YouTubers use.
I really wanted something more portable for this project, raw and unfiltered.
And at the end of each day, I have my editor back in LA on standby, ready to start piecing this pilot together.
The moment we step through the front door of Cup O’ Joe, a bell above the door dings our arrival alongside the scent of freshly roasted coffee. The smell envelops me in a way that nearly has me in tears it smells so dang good.
That, and the sight of my best friend whom I haven’t seen in almost four months since her latest movie premiere.
“Shea!” Callie beams, leaping out of her seat by the window and rushing over to me. Her short, blonde waves bouncing and her service dog—a big German Shepherd named Hulk—bounding beside her.
We squeal the moment our arms wrap around one another. “Oh, my god! I missed you,” I breathe, squeezing her tight. I hold her at arm’s length for our usual fashion inspection. Her new cowgirl boots catch my eye immediately. “Stop it right now.”
“I know, right?” She laughs, hiking up her jeans to show me. “Beau got them for me. We have matching boots now, if you’d believe it.”
I shake my head, smiling as I recall the surly, ex-military man who swept her off her feet somehow.
It certainly wasn’t with his charm. “I seriously don’t,” I say, stepping to the side to reveal my newest appendage.
“And this is Tyler, the one I was telling you about.” My smile is strained as he stands slouched, staring at his phone like I dragged him to a stranger’s funeral.
“Tyler, this is my best friend, Callie. Callie, meet…Tyler.”
He looks up from his phone, camera bag slung over one shoulder.
Callie’s expression softens as she extends a hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Shea’s told me all about you.”
Tyler shakes her hand with an unimpressed grunt.
When he doesn’t offer anything else, she says, “Right, well, did you guys want to get something to drink? They have a great bakery section as well. Their raspberry danishes are so good. Did you eat?”
I quickly pull out my wallet and hand Tyler my card. “Here. Get me a large, caramel latte with a shot of espresso and one of those danishes, please. Do you want anything, Cals?” I ask.
She waves a hand at the table beside us where her drink and half-eaten pastry sit. “Way ahead of you.”
I nod to the counter, eyeing Tyler. “Get whatever you want.”
Tyler stares at the card. “You want me to order?”
“You have a mouth. Use it.”
He rolls his eyes, but turns away, heading for the counter.
I settle into the booth across from Callie as we watch him get in line. “He’s…fun,” she comments.
“He’s exhausting,” I correct, dropping my head into my hands. “I love my dad, and I respect his personal life and all, but I genuinely don’t understand how this is my life right now.”
She laughs with a little shrug. “What is life if not an inconvenient adventure?”
I snort. “Okay, Miss Screenwriter.”
She smiles. “Don’t deflect,” she starts, leaning forward, her eyes dancing. “What happened last night? I never heard back from you after Rhett got there.”
I take a deep breath at the very mention of the owner of those forearms. “It was an eventful first night to say the least.”
“Well, first of all, are you okay? The water situation sounded…”
“Like a complete disaster?” I supply. “Yes. Yes, it was.”
“But Rhett fixed it,” she says, and there’s something too casual in her tone. I clock it immediately.
“He did,” I say, matching her casual-not-casual lead in. “He was very…competent.”
“Mm.” She wraps both hands around her mug. “That’s one word for him.”
“Callie.” I level her with a look and cross my arms. “Did you, per chance, send your fiancé’s brother to my flooded house at eleven o’clock at night and simply forget to mention he had arms of steel?”
She sips her coffee, all wide-eyed innocence over the rim. The same look she gives reporters when she’s about to lie about a sequel.
“How could you,” I whisper-hiss.
Her lips press together, fighting a smile, and losing miserably. “I didn’t think it was relevant, you know, to the plumbing.”
I drop my forehead onto the cool laminate of the table and groan. Across the café, Tyler is at the register, gesturing at the pastry case with the closest thing to enthusiasm I’ve seen from him in twelve hours. Small mercies.
“He’s my contractor now,” I say into the table, then lift my head to face her. “Or he’s going to be. Possibly. We have a…thing set up.” I wave my hand vaguely. “He’s coming by the reno house at noon to look at my plans.”
Callie’s face lights up. “Like a date!”
“A consult.”
“At your house.”
“It’s a job, Cals.”
“Mhm.” She breaks off a corner of her danish, popping it in her mouth, entirely too pleased with herself. Hulk shifts under the table, his big head settling onto her boot. “And you’re wearing that?”
I glance down at myself. Vintage Levi’s I tailored myself, cuffed over the only pair of boots I own that I don’t mind getting a little dirty.
A cashmere henley in oatmeal, sleeves pushed to my elbows.
My curls are piled up and clipped off my neck—the kind of ‘effortless’ that takes product, patience, and a silk bonnet the night before.
It’s the most casual I’ve appeared in a long time.
Not that I’m dressing for anyone in particular. Obviously.
And I certainly don’t tell her about how I may have already accidently called our…consult, a date last night. To. His. Face.
“Yes, I am wearing this,” I confirm, “because it’s not a date. If it was, I’d wear something more…” I trail off, trying to remember the last ‘date’ I’ve been on and what the heck I wore? Was it a mini skirt or romper or—?
The bell above the door to the café behind me rings and Callie’s eyes light up as her gaze shifts over my head. “Oh, would you look at that,” she murmurs.
My gaze shifts up and over my shoulder to the door, and there he is.
Rhett Montgomery.
Daylight does him no favors—or rather, it does him every favor, and none of them are fair to me.
Last night he was a silhouette in my flooded hallway, all shadow and capable hands.
Now the morning sun catches him full-on, throws the gold in his stubble and the worn-soft fit of his jeans into unforgiving focus.
He’s got a travel mug locked in one meaty paw and the easy gait of a man who’s walked into this café a thousand times.
My stomach performs a maneuver I’d like it to never attempt again at the mere sight of him…
“You did this,” I hiss, my head whipping back around to face my best friend.
“I did not.” She laughs at my panic. “This is the only café in town, Shea. Statistically, everyone ends up here.”
Statistically, I’m going to kill her.
She waves her hand wildly. “Hey, guys! Good morning, Rhett. Hi, Levi.”
Yup. Murder is on the agenda for today.
I glance to my right just as a wide chest and thick forearms come into view.
“Mornin’, ladies.” His voice is smooth and rough and so deep I nearly melt.
Gosh, did he sound this good last night, too?
I peer up at him only to catch something flicker across his face, and then, devastatingly, the corner of his mouth tugs into that rationed smile I’m far too eager to chase and claim as mine.
What the—?
My face heats. “Hello,” I say, my voice squeaking despite myself.
What has gotten into me? Is it the water or the thin, mountain air? Because I am not the girl who blushes or gets all squeaky and swoony over some—some guy! It has to be the water… That’s what got Callie, too.
Or it’s just these damn mountain men and their competency…
“What are you boys up to this fine morning?” Callie asks innocently, beaming a smile so wide her cheeks strain.
I glare at her.
I drag my attention off Rhett long enough to clock the man beside him, and the family resemblance is immediate. The same broad build, the same easy way of taking up space like the room owes them rent.
But where Rhett is all dark hair and quiet, this one is blond and loose, a lazy grin already in place like he’s mid-way through a joke only he’s heard. Younger by a few years at least. He’s got a boyish grin I’d guess has spelled trouble for women across at least three counties.
“You must be the California girl who flooded the old Hargrove place,” he says, sticking out a hand. “Levi. The better-looking brother.”
Debatable.
Rhett snorts into his travel mug.
“Shea,” I say, shaking it.
“She’s my best friend,” Callie supplies, entirely too pleased to be narrating.
“The best friend?” Levi’s brows shoot up, delighted, his gaze pinballing between me and his brother with open, unsubtle interest. “Well, isn’t that just—”
“Here.”
Tyler materializes at the edge of the table, setting the tray down with resentment. That’ll be the last time I ask him to place an order, clearly.
He drops into the seat beside me, snatching a muffin I assume he ordered for himself before reaching for his earbuds, then clocks the two men lingering at the edge of the table. His eyes narrow, faintly, with the suspicion of a boy raised to distrust anyone friendly. “Plumber Guy.”
“Contractor,” Rhett and I correct in unison.
And I feel the moment in my sternum as our gazes meet once again.
“Right.” Levi claps his brother on the shoulder, grinning like Christmas came early. “Well. We’ll leave you to it. Rhett needs his refill. He gets downright feral without his second gallon.”
“Sounds like a plumbing issue,” Tyler mutters around his straw.
Levi barks a laugh, pointing at the kid with genuine approval. “I like him.”
Rhett doesn’t move right away. His gaze drops to me one more time, unreadable, warm at the edges, and I have the sudden, disorienting sense of feeling seen.
“Noon,” he says. Not a question, but a promise.
“Yup. See you then,” I say, and my voice only cracks a little.
He turns away, striding toward the counter with his brother, and I am absolutely, one hundred percent not watching the way his shoulders fill out that T-shirt as he goes. I have far too much dignity for that.
Usually.
“So,” Callie says softly
I groan quietly. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
She lifts her mug, hides her grin behind it, and delivers it anyway, sweet as pie. “I was just going to say, that was an awful lot of blushing over a consult.”
Tyler pops in one earbud, glances between us, and sighs like he’s seen too much. “Gross,” he announces, and seals his second ear.
Oh, dear stepbrother, one day you’ll understand.