Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Home at last.
Scottie closed the door and leaned against it, letting the weight of the day settle over her.
“It’s nasty out there.” Lainey took off her rain jacket. “Bet you’re happy to be inside, where it’s warm and dry.”
“Sure am.” Scottie unzipped her coat, the fabric damp and cold against her fingers. She hung it on the hook by the door, water dripping onto the floor.
“Here,” Lainey said, handing her a towel.
“Oh, right.” Scottie took it and stepped out of her boots, lining them up neatly beside her jacket. “Sorry. I know you don’t like it when I make a mess.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
Scottie didn’t miss the note of judgment in her stepsister’s tone but ignored it.
“Before I picked you up, Gary and I were discussing dinner options,” Lainey said. “I’ve got vegetable soup simmering on the stove at the B&B. If you guys want to come over?—”
“Honestly, Lainey, I don’t want to go anywhere,” Scottie interrupted, exhaustion lacing her voice.
“Me either,” her dad piped up from his recliner, where he was watching a game show on TV. The flames crackling in the fireplace reflected in his glasses as he pointed a bony finger toward the hearth. “It’s nice and cozy in here.”
“What are you going to eat?” Lainey asked, her brow furrowing.
“I’ll come up with something,” Scottie said, though she knew the fridge was nearly empty.
“We can always go with our old standby, can’t we, Scottie-girl?” her dad said with a grin.
“Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff,” Lainey said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s a lot of sugar.”
“That’s why we love it,” Dad quipped, chuckling.
Scottie pushed her curls out of her eyes and sighed. “That is a lot of sugar. Probably not the best idea. I’ll figure something out. Or I can run out and grab something.”
“It’s no trouble for me to feed you both,” Lainey offered again. “The soup’s almost ready. It’ll only take me a few minutes to heat the rolls?—”
“Lainey, I really appreciate it,” Scottie said, holding up a hand to stop her. “But today was grueling. I got motion sick on the ride back, and I just don’t want to go anywhere.”
Lainey’s lips thinned, her disappointment clear. “Then I probably shouldn’t expect you to stay here with Gary alone, should I?”
Scottie squished her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself not to snap. “That’s not what I said. Thank you for the offer. Dad and I will figure something out. Something that’s not a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. We’ll relax, and you can enjoy an evening to yourself.”
Lainey hesitated, doubt flickering across her face. Then there were footsteps on the porch, followed by a knock on the door.
Scottie turned, frowning. “Who’s that?” She reached for the knob and pulled the door open.
Tate stood there, a pizza box balanced on one hand, a bag of salad and a container of cookies in the other.
“Are those your mom’s chocolate chip cookies?” Scottie asked, her breath hitching.
Tate’s tentative smile widened. “Yes.”
“Oh my word. You’re an answer to prayer.”
“Um, really? Because I’m pretty sure I just offered to feed you,” Lainey said, crossing her arms.
Scottie ignored her. “Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside to let Tate in.
“There he is,” her dad called from the recliner, grinning. “We can always count on you.” He clapped his hands as the game-show host turned the letters on the screen. “Mistaken identity! I knew it!”
“Way to go, Dad,” Scottie said, smiling despite herself. “Lainey,” she added, turning to her stepsister, “there’s plenty of pizza, salad, and cookies here for you too.” Please say no, please say no, please say no, she thought.
Lainey reached for her coat. “I think you guys have got this covered. Good to see you, Tate. Glad you’re back from Port Frisco safely, Scottie. Hope you can rest up.”
With one last tight smile, Lainey left the house.
Tate released a low whistle. “Things are a little frigid, yeah?”
Scottie sighed. “I don’t want to talk about her. Come on in.”
She led the way to the kitchen, where Tate set the pizza, salad, and cookies on the counter. Yesterday’s dishes were still in the sink. Maybe Lainey had been about to tackle them before Scottie arrived.
Tate opened the pantry, pulling out paper plates.
“Do you eat here a lot?”
“Probably once a week,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Any objections to paper plates?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t know if we have any salad dressing,” she added, washing her hands.
“There’s some in the bag,” Tate replied, holding up the pouch. “How did things go today?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Tate frowned. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
Scottie ripped the salad bag open. “We tried to talk to Damian about the conditions. The ground was so soft and muddy. We got the footage he wanted, and I recorded a couple of interviews, but Cal said we needed to leave. We’re still behind, though, and I think we lost some equipment to the rain and mud.
” She sighed. “Damian doesn’t seem too concerned.
What am I going to do? I can’t argue with him. ”
Tate worked in silence for a moment, his jaw tight.
“What?” Scottie asked, glancing at him. “I probably shouldn’t have told you all that,” she said quickly. “You’re going to get riled up.”
“I’m not getting riled up,” Tate said, though the red creeping up his neck betrayed him.
“Really? Because your neck’s turning red. And you look like you’re clenching your teeth.”
“I’m not clenching my teeth.”
Scottie chuckled, shaking her head. “Dad, come on. Let’s eat,” she called.
Scottie half expected him to say he wanted to eat in front of the TV or wait until his game show was over. But to her surprise, he came right in, tugging his oxygen tank behind him and moving quickly for someone who’d been slugged in the face just days ago.
They sat around the small kitchen table, the warmth of Dad’s cozy house chasing the cold from her body. The pizza box sat open between them, the salad in a bowl, and Tate’s mom’s cookies waiting nearby.
For the first time all day, Scottie felt a sense of calm. She glanced at her dad, who was cracking a joke about the game-show contestant he’d just watched. Tate laughed, the sound easy and natural.
Scottie’s gaze lingered on him. Being here, sharing a meal like this, felt good. Simple. Right.
But under the surface, tension hummed. When their hands brushed as they reached for the salad or a slice of pizza, her heart raced. And every time Tate looked at her, she wondered if he was thinking about the kiss.
Because she certainly was.
“Dad, you’re eating really quickly. What’s going on?” Scottie eyed her father over the rim of her glass. The ice rattled as she took a sip of her diet soda.
She wasn’t wrong. Tate finished off the last of his salad. Gary had wolfed down both slices of his Canadian-bacon-and-pineapple pizza as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
Gary wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I want to watch the next episode of Ultimate Alaskan. This is the first show with you running camera, right?”
“Some of my footage is in this episode, yes,” Scottie said. “I didn’t know you were such a fan.”
“Of course I am. I mean, I was watching it before you joined, but now that you’re the camera operator, I want to see what you’ve been up to.”
“It was a long day filming on the river, and I didn’t have a chance to watch the footage, so I’ll be interested to see how it all turns out.”
“Well, come on. It starts in five minutes.”
“You guys go on,” Scottie said. “I’ll clean up and then join you.”
“I could clean up. Or I’ll help you.” Tate pinned Gary with a look. “Come on, Gary. Let’s do our part.”
“All right, all right,” Gary grumbled.
Tate stood and helped Gary clear off the table. The older man didn’t look happy about it, but he did pitch in.
“We’ll be there shortly. I don’t think she should have to do this by herself,” Tate said.
“That’s fair. Hurry, though—you don’t want to miss it. It’s only an hour,” Gary said.
Tate laughed. He clapped the man on the shoulder. “We’ll be right there.”
Scottie scraped the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. “You don’t have to do this. I’ve got it,” she said.
“I want to help you,” he said quietly. “Gives us a few minutes to catch up.”
“Yeah?” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What’s on your mind?”
“You.”
Her chin shot up. She froze. “Me? Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He passed her their glasses, trying to sound casual, but his pulse was hammering. “Maybe because I finally got to kiss you…and then there was this wild, chaotic night, and you went right back to work.”
She shrugged, turning away. “It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”
“What’s going on? Tell me. Something’s bothering you,” he said.
“I don’t…It’s…You’re not gonna like it.”
“Scottie.” He moved closer, desperate to remove distractions. He kept his hands tucked in his pockets but dipped his head to make eye contact. “I care about you. If you’re upset, I want to try to help.”
“I’m afraid to watch the show with you because I’m afraid you’re going to flip out.”
“Why?”
“Because we took some big risks to get that footage. And…it’s pretty gnarly and raw. Damian plays up the contestants’ fatigue and their struggles with trying things on camera that they’ve never done before. I mean, hardly any of them have ever fished a day in their life.”
“I’m sure it makes for good television. That’s your goal, right?” He made himself find the bright side, stretching toward her trademark optimism instead of defaulting to the knot of worry tightening in his chest.
“If you need to get some rest, I’m sure Gary would understand,” he added. “I’ll stay and watch the show if you want to turn in early.”
“I am tired, but that’s not the issue.” She stepped around him and squirted the counter down with a spray bottle of vinegar and water, then wiped it off with a clean paper towel.
“Come on, you two,” Gary’s raspy voice called out. “Show’s starting.”
“Let’s go watch together.” He gently took the squirt bottle from her hand and put it back under the sink where it belonged.