Page 47

"I have things to do," I deflected, reaching for my water bottle resting on the tailgate.

"You have things to do," Braden repeated, letting the words stretch out. He darted his eyes to Eli, then Austin. "Ben has things to do, guys. Last week at the pub he was hiding in the walk-in cooler, grinning at his phone like a teenager. He told me he was looking at ‘truck parts’."

Eli laughed as he wiped his brow with the hem of his shirt. "Ben doesn’t grin at truck parts. He glares at them until they install themselves."

"Exactly," Braden said and stepped closer to me. "You bailed on Harper’s Sunday dinner. You bailed on the family completely for a week. And you’re checking your watch like you have a hot date waiting in the swamp."

"I’m just tired of hauling mahogany, guys," I said flatly, then took a long drink of warm water.

I stared out at the turquoise water of the Gulf beyond the resort beach. The truth was burning a hole in my chest. I’d been operating under the assumption that Sutton was a temporary guest. A secret to be kept until she figured out her next move. But everything had changed. She wanted to meet my family. And even weirder, I wanted her to.

I studied my brothers. They were sweaty, covered in stray foliage, and currently arguing about who was going to drive the trailer to the county dump. They were loud. They were each their own forms of messy. They were the people who showed up with chainsaws the day after a storm without being asked. Sutton was safe at the cottage, but she couldn’t stay cooped up forever. We were both aware of the loudly ticking clock, yet we agreed for her to meet my family last night. She was one of the most famous people on the planet. We couldn’t just show up at a bonfire with a casual wave. That wouldn’t be fair to Sutton, and it wouldn’t be fair to my siblings. I needed to come clean.

The sound of brisk footsteps on the wet concrete deck interrupted my thoughts. Harper crossed the distance between the main lobby and the pool, juggling her ever-present clipboard and a stack of color-coded work orders. She wore her resort manager uniform—a crisp navy polo and khaki capris—with her chestnut hair already escaping its bun in messy, windblown wisps. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she was surely running on pure caffeine and adrenaline, but her smile was warm and natural as she stopped in front of us.

"First of all, thank you all for being out here," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Seriously. You're lifesavers. Second of all..." She pointed her pen toward a pile of waterlogged palm fronds on the pool deck near the shallow end. "The pool crew arrives in forty minutes to shock the water and I’m getting nervous now. We've got a full house of weekend guests checking in tomorrow afternoon, and five-hundred-dollar-a-night ocean views don't mix well with storm debris."

"Hello to you too, Harper," Eli teased, offering her a lazy two-finger salute. "You look adorable when you're overwhelmed."

"Oh, just shut up, Eli," Harper replied, then an unforced laugh slipped out, which was undoubtedly Eli’s goal. She reached over and lightly swatted his arm with her clipboard before turning to me. "And you. Don't think I didn't see you checking your watch. You're not escaping, Ben. You skipped Sunday dinner, so you owe me at least three hours of heavy lifting."

I offered a small, guilty shrug. "Got caught up in some things at home."

"You're always caught up in things." Her tone softened into gentle, sisterly affection as she rested a hand on my forearm. "Mom made that lemon cake you love, and Finn spent half the evening asking when Uncle Ben was coming over. We missed you. Whatever hermit project you're working on out in the woods can spare you for a little while."

I examined Harper’s exhausted but loving face, then Braden’s suspicious squint. I glanced at Austin and Eli waiting for my excuse. There was no good segue, no easy way to slide this information into a conversation about pool maintenance and missed dinners. "I’m not working on a project. I skipped Sunday dinner because I couldn’t leave my house."

"Why?" Harper asked, her brow furrowing at my excuse, even though it was the full truth for once. Her gaze returned to her clipboard and mammoth to-do list. "Did a tree come down on the access road?"

"No." I tossed my leather gloves onto the trailer bed. I dragged a hand down my face, searching for a script that didn’t exist. "I skipped dinner because... I have someone staying at the cottage."

Braden’s eyebrows hit his hairline. "What? You have a woman at the man cave?"

"I’m not a hermit! Is it so hard to believe?" I cleared my throat, hating how tight my voice sounded. "But, yeah. And I couldn’t just bring her to the house for a Sunday roast. It would have been a madhouse. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to you guys, for that matter."

Austin’s head was cocked, his gaze steady. "Ben, what are you talking about?"

I let out a harsh breath, gave up on finding a smooth transition, and just ripped the bandage off. "Sutton Vale is staying with me."

The silence on the pool deck was absolute. The distant sound of the ocean waves crashing against the beach was suddenly incredibly loud.

Eli broke the quiet with a loud, barking laugh. "Right. And Sidney Sweeney is currently organizing my dive shack. Good one, Ben. Very deadpan."

Harper didn’t even look up from her clipboard. She made a quick notation. "Ben, I don’t have time for your rare attempts at humor. The cabanas need to be swept. What’s the real story?"

But Braden didn’t laugh. He shoved off the side of the metal trailer, the casual slouch vanishing from his frame. He stared at me, the pieces of the last week clicking together in his head. The texting in the cooler. The sudden isolation. The rush to get home. "Wait. Holy shit. You’re serious."

Austin wiped the back of his neck with a dirty towel, his frown morphing into confusion. "Sutton Vale. The pop star? The one on the radio?"

I sighed. "Yes."

Harper finally lowered her clipboard. She stared at me, her mouth parting slightly. "Ben. Are you having a medical emergency right now? Are you hallucinating?"

"Jesus, Harper. I’m perfectly lucid." I crossed my arms over my chest and braced myself for the fallout. "She crashed her rental car into the ditch on Route 1 during the storm last week. I pulled her out. She was running from her ex-husband, the producer. He was trying to file a fraudulent conservatorship to take control of her life and her money. If she went to a hotel, he would have tracked her and dragged her back."

I kept the explanation brief, leaving out the tears, the piano, and the way my heart stopped every time she looked at me. "She needed a place to hide where nobody would ask questions. So I brought her to the cottage."

My siblings stared at me, and the joking completely evaporated. The shift was instantaneous. The Coleridge protective instinct engaged, overriding their shock.