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“Just you. Yourself.”
Then he spins around and gallops down the steps.
I really do feel like I’m in a dream as I throw on some shorts and a sweatshirt. What just happened?
And does this mean I’m spending the rest of the day with Tuck?
I sip my coffee as I head for the house. I smile when foamed milk hits my lips.
Tuck may not be a Viking, but he did make me a cappuccino.
We walk into the house at the same time. It’s weirdly quiet without Katie there, but Tuck doesn’t seem to notice. I follow him back out to the garage, where he grabs a red metal toolbox and a six-pack of beer.
“It’s gonna be a long day,” Tuck explains as he climbs into a golf cart. I climb in beside him. “Goldie and Coop were supposed to get married at The Ocean Club tonight.”
“Fancy.” The Ocean Club is the nicer—and newer—of the two clubs on Bald Head Island. I’ve never been to either, but I’ve heard The Ocean Club is a rich people’s paradise with pools, bars, a huge clubhouse, and a golf course.
“But this storm”—he waves to the driving rain that assaults the cart’s rain panels—“turned out to be way worse than they anticipated. What the water didn’t wash away, the wind took. Their tents, the tables?—”
“All gone?” I gasp.
Tuck nods grimly. “Luckily, we have a house that’s available that we’re using for the new venue.”
“Phew. That’s huge.”
“Only problem?” Tuck parks in front of what appears to be an enormous house that’s under construction. “It’s not finished.”
My eyes bulge. “Wait. Are you serious?”
“Why do you think I woke you up at seven on a Saturday morning?” Tuck grabs the toolbox. “We have until five o’clock to install some electricity and throw up decorations.”
I down what’s left of my coffee. “I get why you brought beer.”
“No shit. Help yourself.”
I do a slow take as I walk into the house. It is adisaster. The sheetrock is up and the windows are in, but otherwise, it appears to be very much a work in progress. The floors are covered in a thick layer of sawdust; the raw smell of paint singes my nostrils. A small generator hums in the corner, providing electricity to a handful of flood lights that are the only illumination in the house.
But the people here—and there aretonsof them—are all smiles as they go about their tasks. A pair of middle-aged women chat amiably as they mop the floors. A bearded guyin biker boots passes by with lengths of PVC pipe on his shoulder, a grin on his face.
And then there’s Riley, who smiles when he sees us. He’s the kind of handsome that stops you in your tracks: blond, blue-eyed, with a Prince Charming jaw and biceps for days. We met on the beach when he and Tuck were done surfing the other day.
“Thank God y’all are here.” He pulls Tuck in for a hug. I’m shocked—pleasantly so—when Tuck hugs him back, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Always happy to help. Riley, you remember Maren.”
I give him a little wave. “Good to see you again.”
“It’s good to seeyouagain.”
I glance at Tuck. He’s shooting daggers with his eyes at Riley. My heart skips a beat. It’s clear they’ve talked about me. Was it just the broad strokes, Tuck telling Riley he hired someone new? Or did Tuck tell Riley more than that?
“Maren volunteered to help out today.” Do I detect a note of warning in Tuck’s voice? “And by that, I mean I volunteered her, and she kindly agreed.”
“Very kind. Thank you.” Riley is still smiling at me. “I appreciate you helping out my friend.”
“She’s helping you out, dipshit.”
Riley’s smile deepens. “I hope your kindness rubs off on him. Y’all mind helping with the decorations? Lu is around here somewhere with the wedding planner...”
