Chapter 3 #2
“I’m roasting in this thing.” Tate tugged at the collar of his crewneck T-shirt, then reached for his water bottle. This morning’s fog had melted off. Warm sunlight poured through the helicopter’s panoramic windshield. “What are we waiting for? I’m going to bake on this asphalt.”
Ethan’s mouth twitched, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re being dramatic. It’s August in Alaska. The thermometer reads sixty-eight degrees. Leave your door open. We’re not ready to go yet. Still waiting for our passengers.”
“Where are they?” Tate studied the tarmac outside Redemption’s airport. The flight from Anchorage had landed almost thirty minutes ago, and the passengers were already inside the airport. A small plane taxied down the runway, sunlight glinting off its windows.
“Damian just texted. He says they’ll be out in a few minutes.” Ethan flicked a few switches. “You’re just along for the ride anyway. It’s a beautiful day to fly out to Port Frisco. So relax. We’re going to have a great time.”
Yeah. A great time. Tate drew in a deep breath, held it, then blew it out slowly. A waterfall trickled down the mountainside hemming in the runway. He watched the water spill down the jagged rocks as he willed his racing pulse to slow.
“I’m coming along to scout out the conditions at Port Frisco,” Tate said. “If I’m going to run for town council and campaign on a platform of improving safety protocols, I need to make sure I know what I’m talking about.”
“And here I thought you’d asked to ride along so we could spend some quality time together.” Ethan splayed his palm across his chest. “I’m crushed.”
Tate gave him a half-hearted punch on the arm.
Their eight-year age difference rarely bothered him.
Being the fourth of five siblings, he was used to Ethan, Luke, and Caroline telling him what to do.
But sometimes—with super personal stuff like his romantic interests—he didn’t want any advice from siblings.
And definitely not from Ethan. So he wasn’t about to admit that he’d asked to come along so he could see Scottie. For the first time in seven years.
The airport’s sliding glass doors parted.
Scottie stepped into the sunlight wearing bell-bottom jeans with frayed cuffs, brown boots, and a white T-shirt layered under a red sweater with oversized buttons shaped like flowers.
Only Scottie could pull off such a California-meets-Alaska kind of vibe.
She shook her head, letting her thick dark curls bounce, and smiled.
Good grief. He almost had a heart attack.
His pulse sped, a rivulet of sweat trickled down his spine, and he clutched his water bottle so tight the plastic crackled.
Ethan grinned. “You okay there, big guy?”
“Never better.”
“Good. Can you give me a hand stowing their bags in the cage?”
“Yep.” He hopped out, legs unsteady, and circled around the chopper’s nose. The rotor above them ticked softly in the breeze.
Ethan greeted her first. “Scottie, welcome back. It’s great to see you again.”
“Hey, Ethan. It’s been a long time,” Scottie said, then her gaze slid to meet Tate’s.
He tried to tell his face to play it cool, but his eyes locked on hers. Pale blue and framed with the longest, curliest dark lashes he’d ever seen. His mouth ran dry. He couldn’t form a single coherent thought.
“So good to see you, Tate.” Then she walked into his arms as if she’d hugged him a thousand times.
Ethan raised his eyebrows but thankfully didn’t make a comment.
She smelled like flowers and sunshine, and he couldn’t believe he was hugging her.
She pulled away but still grinned up at him. “This is a fun surprise.”
“Damian said you’re here because somebody got hurt? These shows are so dangerous, aren’t they?”
“Unscripted wilderness survival,” Ethan said, taking Scottie’s bag from her shoulder and handing it to Tate. “That’s the show’s tagline, right? Pretty sure dangerous is the whole point.”
“Doesn’t mean Scottie should be involved,” Tate added.
Scottie’s smile faded. “Hello? Standing right here. You’re still just as protective as ever, aren’t you?”
“Oh, girl, you don’t even know,” Ethan said.
“For the billionth time, somebody has to worry about safety.” Tate took the bag and circled back around to the metal cage attached to the chopper’s skis.
Before he could say anything else, Damian came out of the airport along with their other passenger.
A guy about their age, maybe a little older.
He had that rugged actor look—stubble on his sculpted jaw, reflective sunglasses, cargo pants, uber-expensive shoes, and a red puffer vest. He walked up like he owned the place, holding a large disposable coffee cup in one hand and towing his luggage with the other.
“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, winking at Scottie. “The barista at the coffee place in town had trouble with my order.”
Oh brother.
Ethan scrubbed his mouth with his hand. Chatter swelled, and Tate focused on getting the rest of the bags into the cage.
“Scottie, this is wild.” Mr. Hollywood nudged her shoulder with his. “First we stayed at the same bed-and-breakfast, and now we’re sharing a ride.”
“We’ll be best friends by the time we’re finished here,” Scottie teased.
Tate cleared his throat.
“Theo, this is Tate and Ethan McGuire,” Scottie said. “Ethan’s our pilot and Tate and I go way back.”
“Pleasure,” Theo said, shaking both their hands. “This is my first time in Alaska. I kinda feel like Bear Grylls.”
Right. Let’s see how you do when the cameras aren’t on.