Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Why was Tate so prickly?
And why did that bother her so much? Scottie slid her drink closer, then craned her neck to see past Damian and Tabitha, deep in conversation at the far end of the table. Tabitha’s hands sliced the air in wide arcs. Damian frowned, then scrubbed his palm down his face.
Oh boy. He looked aggravated. She checked the time on her phone. They needed to get some footage of the celebrities gathering berries soon if they were going to meet their production deadline.
But what she needed even more was to speak with Tate.
Their interaction a few minutes ago had been awkward.
Something was clearly bugging him, and it bummed her out that she didn’t know what was going on.
They’d been great friends back in the day.
Yes, okay, people grew apart and changed.
She was the one who’d moved away and didn’t visit much.
Still, Tate had always been steady. Always had her back.
That steadiness had been her anchor when she was young and reckless.
Frankly, part of her had hoped she could count on him again.
“Scottie? What do you think?” Carter’s deep voice pulled her back to the conversation.
“Um, sorry, zoned out for a second. What’s going on?
” She took a sip of her drink, loving the sugary taste of peppermint and whipped cream in her coffee.
Who cared if it was August? She loved a good peppermint mocha anytime.
Something sweet to help cope with the complicated feelings she hadn’t expected Tate to stir up.
“We’re debating which character in recent summer blockbusters had the most skilled stunt double.”
Scottie reached for a napkin and wiped whipped cream from her face. “Wow, that’s a niche topic.”
“We trust your expertise.” Carter grinned. “You’ve certainly encountered a few stunt doubles.”
“Oh, for sure.” Theo nudged her with his elbow. “Remember the lady on set in Arizona? She was incredible. She could move a Jeep by herself.”
That was her cue. She did not want to talk about Arizona. “So amazing, right?” She pushed back her chair. “Excuse me, fellas. I’ll catch you later. Get ready to pick a whole lot of berries, and don’t forget your insect repellent.”
She grabbed her drink and crossed the dining room.
This place had only changed a tiny bit in the last decade.
Unlike the great room and the lobby, which had been renovated after the fire years ago, the dining room still held echoes of her past. She and Tate had studied for history tests at these tables, messed around when they were supposed to be writing English papers, even babysat Megan here a time or two.
She stopped at a framed photograph of the McGuire clan hanging on the wall.
Tate’s grandparents smiled back at her. She touched her fingertips to the wooden frame.
So many good times with the McGuires. After her mother’s passing, Cassie and Liam had been a lifeline.
Unexplained emotion welled in her throat.
She swallowed hard, then turned away from the photo and headed for the kitchen.
Liam sat in his wheelchair at the end of the counter while Cassie worked at the industrial-sized mixer.
Cassie’s face lit up. “Well, hey, Scottie.”
“Good morning.” Scottie hovered in the doorway, cupping her drink with both hands. She owed them far more than superficial greetings, but she didn’t have time to linger.
“Hey, Scottie.” Liam wheeled closer, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Give me a hug. It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Liam.” She gave him a quick one-armed hug, careful not to spill her drink. “How are you?”
“Doing well, thank you.”
She stepped back and gave his shoulder a quick pat. He still smelled like Barbasol shaving cream. The faint, minty scent made her heart pinch. She let Cassie pull her into a warm embrace. Her throat tightened again. Good grief, what was going on? Hugs from Tate’s parents and she was nearly undone.
“I was so thrilled when I heard that Damian was bringing you back.” Cassie gently squeezed Scottie’s upper arms. “What an exciting opportunity to be home doing what you love.”
Scottie pasted on a smile. “Yeah, I’m pumped.”
“Your dad must be thrilled to have you here,” Liam said.
“I haven’t spent much time with him yet, but now that we’ve relocated from Port Frisco to here, I’ll be able to see more of him and Lainey.”
Something flickered in Liam’s eyes. He was too kind to call her bluff. She looked away. “Is Tate still here?”
“Out back making sure there’s plenty of chopped wood for the fire pit,” Liam said. “Cassie’s s’mores bar is becoming quite the legend.”
“We do what we can to keep our guests happy,” Cassie added.
“All right. I’m going to go talk to him. If Damian comes in looking for me, tell him I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure thing. Have a great day,” Liam called after her. “Can’t wait to watch the show.”
“Thanks. Me too!”
She hurried toward the back door and stepped outside. Fresh air tinged with evergreen filled her lungs. She zipped her hoodie higher against the chill. The rhythmic crack of an axe drew her around the building and past the fire pit—then stopped her cold.
Wow.
Tate’s back was to her, giving her a fine view of the gray T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.
When had that happened? In high school, he’d been lean, almost lanky, a bookish guy who carried his backpack everywhere he went.
He’d ditched the glasses after tenth grade, braces right around the same time.
She remembered every detail, but none of that prepared her for this.
His T-shirt clung to him, muscles shifting with each movement. Sweat darkened the fabric between his shoulder blades. Wood chips flecked his jeans, and the corded muscles in his forearms flexed as he swung the axe in a clean arc. The log split with a crack, three pieces tumbling to his feet.
Her pulse took off at a gallop. Oh, this was bad. She pressed her fingers to her lips. Clearly she hadn’t dated anybody in way too long if her high school best friend chopping wood made her stare.
A blur of movement caught her attention. In an octagon-shaped fenced-in play area, a brown goldendoodle puppy pounced on its toy. Tail wagging, the dog gnawed on one of the orange fabric knots. What a cutie.
“Nice work,” she blurted. “I’m impressed.”
He startled, then turned. The muscle in his jaw ticced. “Hey. I didn’t know you were there.”
“I just came outside to say hello. How are you? We didn’t get a chance to talk much in the helicopter ride. Or this morning when you brought coffee.”
“Your friends are a little chatty.”
“My friends? Oh, Theo? Yeah, I think he was nervous. He’s very extroverted.”
“I noticed.” He picked up another log and set it upright. The axe rose again.
“So…what’s new?” She shifted from one foot to the other. Was he seriously going to keep chopping wood? Okay, fine, he was putting on quite a show. But still. What was she doing? She was here to work, not gawk at Tate McGuire’s buff shoulders.
“Not much. Keeping busy. The relocation from Port Frisco increased everybody’s workload around here.” He paused, glancing at her. “You glad to be back?”
“No.” She winced, instantly regretting the bluntness. “This isn’t really where I planned to spend my fall. I was kind of hoping for a movie set in New Zealand.”
Pain flashed across his face—so quick she almost missed it—before he nodded. “I guess New Zealand probably has a lot more to offer.”
“Wait, no, I just…That’s what I thought Damian was calling me about.” She hated how defensive she sounded.
“Huh.”
“Okay, so, um…Tate, are you all right?” Her voice grew softer. She hadn’t realized until now how much she wanted him to be glad she was back.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You seem a little uptight. More so than I remember.”
“Like I said, there’s a lot going on here now that the resort is full. And you all are requiring breakfast on top of meeting the needs of our regular guests.”
“Wait, you say that like somehow this is my fault.”
“I’m not placing blame, Scottie. You asked me what was going on. I’m telling you the truth.”
His clipped tone made her take a step back. “Right, okay. Well, it’s good to see you. I better go. I’ve got to film people picking berries.”
“A billionaire in a berry patch.” Tate smirked, then reached for another log. “That’ll make for riveting television, won’t it?”
Wow. Alrighty then. “Talk to you later.”
She turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look back. The puppy bounded toward her, its pink tongue lolling. It pressed its paws to the top of the fence.
“You’re adorable,” she said, giving the puppy a quick pat on its curly head. The dog whined, then licked her hand.
As she walked away, warmth still heated her skin. When did Tate get so handsome? And why was he so standoffish?
Maybe she couldn’t count on him after all.
Why couldn’t he get Carter Wynne flirting with Scottie out of his head?
Tate crawled into his bunk, tucked near the bow of the houseboat—his home away from the resort, where maritime pilots slept when they were on call.
Water lapped against the hull, and the sturdy vessel bobbed gently in Shelter Cove.
He stared through the small porthole at the feathery brushstrokes of pink and orange crisscrossing the evening sky.
He needed to sleep in case he got called out to pilot a ship, but his mind spun incessantly with more replays of yesterday’s encounters with Scottie.
He hadn’t meant to get so bent out of shape when he discovered the resort filled with guests associated with the show. After all, it meant seeing Scottie sooner than expected. And he hadn’t counted on getting so worked up when he saw her sitting near Carter Wynne.
Carter Wynne.
The Wynne family built yachts, for Pete’s sake. Some of the finest vessels in the world.
He rubbed at the tightness in his chest and sat up, punched his pillow, then flopped onto his left side.