Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
She could sit here all night.
Scottie tipped her head back against the green Adirondack chair. Vintage lights strung between two trees swayed gently. Twilight draped itself like a blanket over the resort and its lingering guests. The sliver of a pale white moon hung in the indigo sky. Somewhere, a kid burst into tears.
Ethan looked up as he collected empty candy-bar wrappers and the last of the marshmallows from the table where they’d hosted the s’mores bar.
“That’s my cue. Sounds like Sadie’s coming undone.”
Scottie pulled on her flannel button-down as a cool breeze skated across the yard. “Can I do anything to help?”
“No,” Ethan said. “She’s exhausted. Tisha told me she needed to go home, and I asked her to wait a minute.” He paused, then tossed two more logs on the fire. Sparks crackled and darted up into the air.
“Stay here as long as you’d like. No rush.”
“Thanks. Have a good night, Ethan.”
“You bet.” He headed for the resort.
“Scottie-girl, time for me to hit the hay.” Her dad grunted and pushed to his feet from the other side of the firepit. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“We’ll give you a ride, Gary,” Abbie said.
Scottie stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s on our way. No trouble,” Abbie said. “Besides, Mark’s mom is with the kids. We need to get going anyway.”
“All right.” Scottie waved. “I’ll see you soon, Dad. Be good, okay?”
He pressed his hand to his chest, feigning shock. “Of course I’ll be good.”
“All right. Thank you, Abbie and Mark,” Scottie said. “Appreciate it.”
“We’re happy to help.” They walked beside Gary slowly as he hauled his wheeled canister across the bumpy ground.
The s’mores had been eaten, hot dogs, burgers, and brats consumed. A few remnants of potato chips were smashed in the dirt near her feet. Reclaiming her seat, Scottie closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. The scent of campfire smoke mixed with sugar lingered in the air.
What a way to spend a Friday night.
The only thing that would make it better was Tate.
What in the world?
She shook off the thought. But where was he anyway?
Something had been simmering between them all night.
Long, lingering looks. Every time she’d been in conversation with someone, she’d sensed his presence.
Then she’d look up and find him watching her from across the yard.
And when he’d gone off and played with the kids, Abbie had teased her for staring at him.
But how could she resist? He’d looked like such a natural, coaching them through their three-legged race, stopping to help a little girl tie her shoelaces.
Tate was still buttoned up, following the rules and yet letting his soft side out to play.
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes. He stood over her. Her pulse sped as he tugged a chair closer.
“I didn’t know you were still here.”
“I can’t bring myself to leave,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
He handed her a gray fleece blanket. “I brought you an extra layer and some decaf tea.” He held out a mug with the words Redemption, Alaska written on the side, the tea bag still steeping.
He reached into the chest pocket of his shirt.
“Here. I already put lemon in, but here’s honey and a stir stick. ”
Could he be any more thoughtful? She sat up a little straighter and carefully guided the mug down to the wide armrest. “Thank you. It’s chilly out here, even with the fire.” She spread his blanket over her lap.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not.”
He wore faded jeans, sneakers, and a soft gray button-down shirt layered over a white T-shirt. The faintest hint of stubble clung to his strong jaw, and the light from the fire cast a golden glow on one side of his face.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” He leaned forward, poked at the log in the fire with a long stick. It broke apart, its glowing red embers shooting more sparks into the night.
“I had the best time. You all really know how to put on a party.”
He sat back. “To be honest, we’ve struggled this year. It feels good to finally get something right.”
He glanced over, holding her gaze a beat longer than normal. She couldn’t look away.
“This is nice.”
“Oh yeah?” His mouth curved up into a half smile. “Is it the fire? The tea? My extra blanket? Which part?”
Wow. Was he flirting? She shifted in her chair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you always wear gray?”
He laughed, low and rumbly, a sound she didn’t get to hear often. “That’s not what I thought you were going to ask me. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s easy. I like gray. There’s lots of shades and variation.”
“But you’re so handsome. You would look incredible in teal or plum. Or maybe an inky blue.”
“Handsome, huh? Thank you.” He reached over and tugged on one of her curls. “And you’re beautiful. In any shade.”
Her stomach clenched. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
Tate glanced around. “Where’s your dad?”
“Abbie and Mark offered to take him home. Did you not pass them on your way out here?”
“I was taking extra towels down to one of the cabins. We probably missed each other.”
“Makes sense,” she said. “You guys booked solid tonight?”
“We are. Thank God. It’s about time.”
“I hate that Redemption’s had such a tough year. I hope us being here isn’t making it worse.”
He looked away, the firelight dancing across the sharp lines of his profile.
“Wait.” She leaned forward, her chest tightening. “Do you think it’s making it worse?”
“Oh, Scottie.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if you want to hear my honest thoughts on the topic.”
“What? Of course I do.”
He shifted in his chair, his body angled toward her.
His concern made her lean closer without thinking, her heart thudding in her chest. “What? What is it? What are you not saying?”
He hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to bare this piece of himself. Finally, he sighed. “I’ve been concerned all along. It’s the main reason I’m running for the empty council seat. We need to stop issuing permits and letting shows and movies be filmed here.”
“Oh.” His words hit her like a sudden gust of wind. She forced herself to nod even as her throat tightened. “Well, I respect your opinion, even if I don’t agree.”
He seemed to sense her unease and gave her a small, apologetic smile. “Let’s not get into that tonight.”
She leaned back in her chair again. “Fair enough.”
“What do you love about being a camera operator on this particular show?”
Scottie added honey to her tea, stirred it, then took a sip. It carried the perfect blend of zesty and sweet. “I’m here to prove something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
She gave a small laugh, but it felt hollow. “You already know, and you’re not going to like my answer.”
His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
The words caught in her throat. Vulnerability wasn’t something she embraced easily, not even around him.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said today.
That sometimes I take risks you might consider foolish.
But if I don’t regain my courage—my mojo, if you will—then I don’t know what else I’ll do for a career. Cameras are kind of my thing.”
A muscle in Tate’s cheek jumped. “Can you honestly say that you don’t worry about getting hurt?”
She froze for a moment, her fingers tightening around the mug. The question landed too close to the truth. “A little bit. Okay, a lot,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, before quickly looking away.
But she wasn’t about to say more. Not to him. Not when she knew how incredibly safety conscious he was. Tate, who always had a plan. Tate, who never took a step without calculating the risk. Tate, who clearly thought her job was one giant reckless gamble.
Even though his wasn’t exactly safe either.
“You don’t have to say it,” she said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. “I know. Plenty of bad things have happened. My family has a long history of dealing with freakish disasters.”
Tate was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady on hers. Finally, he said, “I’m not here to ruin anybody’s fun or wreck a good thing. To be honest, I think the show’s a great idea. There’s?—”
“Wait, back up.” She held up her palm. “You think the show’s a great idea?”
His gaze roamed her face. For a moment, the world stilled, the crackle of the fire punctuating the silence.
“Of course. But there’s a lack of crucial oversight, which puts people in danger. Including you. All I want, Scottie, is for you to be safe,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Well, that—and for you to be happy.”
Her breath hitched, and she felt herself unraveling under the weight of his words. He wasn’t just talking about the show or her work. He was talking about her. About the reckless, messy, complicated person she was, and the way he seemed to care for all of it.
For a second, she couldn’t speak. The warmth in his eyes, the quiet intensity in his voice—it was too much. Too real.
“Tate…” Her voice broke and she looked down, trying to pull herself together.
But he didn’t let her retreat. His hand slid across the small distance between them, his fingers brushing hers. It was a simple touch, but it felt like an anchor, steadying her in a way she hadn’t expected.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I just needed you to know.”
Her chest ached, the emotions swirling inside her too big to name.
He stood and gently tugged her to her feet. “Come with me.”
She stared up at him. “Where?”
“Just come.”
The confidence in his voice sent a shiver through her.
Her fingers tightened around his, and she let him lead her across the yard, past the new cabin, and onto the secluded trail behind the resort.
The light from the campfire faded behind them as they stepped into the shadows of the trail.
Trees closed in around them, filling the air with the fragrant aroma of pine and spruce.
“Tate—”
He stopped, then turned to face her, his hand still holding hers.
“I’ve been watching you all night,” he said, his voice gruff. “Every time you smiled, every time you laughed, I couldn’t look away.”