“FEATHER, SHELL—or a piece of a shell, something metal, seaweed, driftwood, popsicle stick,” Anne read from the list of scavenger-hunt items.
Camile stood with Anne, Rhys and Willow on the boardwalk near Pacific Cove’s gazebo, the starting line for the Sea Stars Scavenger Hunt. It was the first time she’d left her building in three days, and it felt amazing to be mostly back to herself, physically at least. A reluctant Rhys had left her apartment the next evening only after Nina assured him that she would stay another night to make sure Camile was okay. Camile thought the decision was made easier with Aubrey’s arrival. She’d finally texted her and, without a single lecture, her sister had shown up with a ginger smoothie and one of their favorite superhero DVDs. Her concern had Camile tearing up all over again.
Rhys insisted they put the dance lessons on hold, texted her multiple times a day and had called both evenings since. Yesterday, he and Willow had brought her some delicious soup and homemade bread. Sweet. Ugh. She remembered telling him he was sweet. He had been. He was. She’d said other things, too. Apparently, he hadn’t picked up on any of those cues, at least not enough to ask about their source. But she was harboring serious concerns about that conversation where they’d made some ambiguous deal regarding her paying him back for taking care of her.
And now her emotions were a jumbled mess where he was concerned. There’d been a definite shift in their relationship. Having a man hold your head while you threw up changed things, she supposed. But it was more than that. He’d gotten to her before that.
Snippets of their conversations kept surfacing, taunting her, confusing her. That comment he’d made about their age difference and how he was glad she wasn’t any younger. She didn’t understand what was going on. How could she bring it up? She didn’t want to bring it up. And now it was like a giant elephant in the room that only she could see. But what if he wasn’t interested in her in that way? An offhand comment about their age difference didn’t mean anything, necessarily. But then there was the sweetheart, heart-stealing thing. Although, she’d had a fever and he’d been worried. She’d gotten sick right in front of him. What choice did he have? Especially when she’d gone on about him leaving. Of course, he’d stayed after that. He’d done what any decent human being would do, right?
Probably it was a little more than decent to sit by her bedside all night, bring her food and text multiple times a day. But he’d said he liked taking care of her. So maybe it was just a simple case of knight’s syndrome? She’d been a damsel in distress, and he’d been there to save her. Yes! That could explain almost everything. Surprising for a guy like him, but the psychology of a person was complex and multilayered. She’d pegged him incorrectly because she’d been thrown off by her initial encounter with him. Conclusion: Rhys was a nice guy with a case of knight’s syndrome who’d encountered a needy, ill woman. The combination had produced this unique situation. Yep, that was it. That explained it. Almost, because none of this explained his actions on that first date.
Still, even keeping all of this in mind, she knew she was enamored with him. Who wouldn’t be? Even now, with him standing beside her, all she could think about was how worried he’d been and how kind he was to her. Okay, and how handsome he looked. In his worn jeans and fleece top, with his golden-blond curls, he could pass for a movie star. And the way he watched her with that concern splayed all over his face made her feel soft inside. Too soft, maybe. Soft meant weak. She didn’t want to be weak. She needed to be strong. She needed to take care of herself.
Dr. Youngworth, her thesis advisor, had emailed again the day before to ask when she could meet to discuss her “next steps.” The thought of starting over made her panicky. Looming student loans made her sweat. The probable lawsuit was a major distraction. Legal bills. Hospital bills. Her life had gone off the rails, and she needed to get it back on track.
She tuned back into her surroundings where a team consisting of Harper, Nina, Mia, and Mia’s friend and office manager, Charlotte, had congregated next to them to study the list. A confident threesome comprising Kyle, Jay and Jay’s friend Terrence stood whispering in a huddle nearby. Jay’s younger brother and sister, Levi and Laney, were teamed up with Levi’s girlfriend, Ty, and a friend of Laney’s. The teens seemed unconcerned with the scavenger hunt’s objectives as they laughed among themselves.
Harper read, “Bonus points for collecting garbage from the beach in the included paper trash bag. Such a fantastic idea! I despise plastic. Did you know the Great Pacific Garbage Patch now contains thousands of tons of plastic? It’s essentially a huge island of garbage floating around our ocean. Heartbreaking.” Not only was Harper’s father a billionaire businessman and renowned environmental scientist, but she also worked as a wildlife photographer.
“It says here that the proceeds from this event go toward ocean cleanup,” Willow said. “That’s cool.”
“It is! Some studies suggest that as many as a hundred million marine mammals are killed each year from plastic pollution alone. I can’t even think about sea turtles without getting infuriated.”
“Channel that anger, Harper,” Mia gently encouraged. “I really want to beat Jay and Kyle.”
Camile laughed. Jay was Mia’s husband, and Kyle, her brother. Camile imagined she’d want to best that team, too, if she were Mia.
Camile pointed at Anne’s list. “Some of these items you only need photos of, like the bird tracks, the crab and the message in the sand. See the little camera icon? All of those only require a photo with a team member in it. Should be a piece of cake.”
“Fun!” Anne said. “Let’s get going!”
Rhys and Willow stayed put.
Heads bowed together over their list, Willow explained, “We have to wait for the starting bell.”
Rhys said, “I think we need a strategy. We’re at a distinct disadvantage with some of these items.”
“I agree,” Willow said. “And see how certain objects and tasks are worth more points than others? Maybe we should prioritize, go for some of the easier but higher-point items first. If we can figure out what those are...” She tapped the paper. “What’s a salty key?”
“I have no idea,” Rhys answered. “I don’t even know where most of these places are.”
“The items around town are worth more and are definitely trickier,” Camile said, studying her own copy of the instructions. “A salty key is a piece of salted caramel taffy from Wishing Well Candy. It’s their most popular flavor.”
“Bonus points for finding a message in a bottle?” Willow added. “That seems impossible.”
“Ah, but it’s not,” Camile explained. “Some off-duty Coast Guard volunteers and fishermen released a bunch of bottles offshore so they’d wash up along the beach for this event.” She glanced at Harper, who was listening intently. “Don’t worry, Harper, they’re biodegradable. Aubrey said they are made of seaweed or something. Inside are coupons and gift certificates.”
Harper stepped over to join them. “Camile, you’re not working today, are you?”
“Nope. I’ve got the whole day free. I’m excited to watch the action unfold and chow down on some seafood after. I need to make up for some serious calorie deficits.” Her attention was drawn to Kyle, Jay and Terrence, who’d moved a ways away as if they didn’t want their strategy overhead. “Kyle’s team looks ready to win this thing.”
“Pfft.” Harper waved a breezy hand through the air. “I’m not worried about Team Intensity over there. Did you see number five?”
Camile ran a finger down the list. “Build a sandcastle and take a photo,” she read. “I don’t get it.”
“Kyle won’t be able to build a tiny but adequate castle and move on. It’ll be a castle, like with turrets and a moat. There are too many items like that on here. He’s a perfectionist. Jay is the same. They’ll get caught up in the details. I predict a team of women will win this. They’re better at prioritizing and multitasking. Ideally, it will be us. I do have the camera advantage.”
“Yes, to winning!” Mia cried.
“Right on.” Camile chuckled at her friends.
Harper leveled a pointed stare at her. “But Rhys’s point is valid. He and Anne and Willow are never going to be able to compete without some insider knowledge. Why don’t you help them? Then you can be a part of the action, too.”
“That’s the best idea ever! Can she do that?” An enthusiastic Willow bounced on her toes. “Is it too late to add a member to our team?” Then she paused, peering at Camile. “Wait, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes, she definitely can,” Harper said.
“She’s fine,” Nina Under-the-bus-thrower chimed in.
“I love this plan!” Anne said. “Why didn’t we think of it sooner?”
Threading an arm around Camile’s elbow, Willow asked, “Can you help us, Camile? Will you be on our team?”
“I don’t know if there’s still time to register,” Camile said, trying to get out of it but unsure about exactly why. That wasn’t true; she knew why, and he was standing here, piercing her with those blue eyes like he could read her mind.
“You can register right up until the starting bell,” Harper offered helpfully, and Camile couldn’t help but wonder if Harper was pushing her toward Rhys on purpose.
The hopeful yet concerned expression on Willow’s face was her undoing. “Sure. Let’s do this. I’m feeling great, Willow, I promise.”
Pulling out her phone, Harper then quickly swiped and tapped on the screen. “You can manage your team online. I’m adding you to Team McGrath right now.”
“Team McGrath,” Willow repeated. “I like that.”
“Me too,” a very satisfied-looking Rhys added softly. “Very much so.”
AS FAR AS Rhys was concerned, the scavenger hunt could not have worked out better. He got to spend the day with Camile away from the studio and he didn’t even have to ask her. Once again, Harper had put her right in his lap, so to speak. Plus, she was very, very good at this game. They were ticking items off the list right and left. Anne and Camile were making them all laugh. And Willow was loving every second of it.
“Okay,” Camile said, pointing at the now-crumpled and slightly damp paper clutched in her hand, “if we head for Kassie’s Kite Shop we can get our ‘share of string,’ then grab a coffee sleeve from Blue Carafe—evidence that we’ve ‘quenched our thirst somewhere in The Cove.’” She’d explained that was what locals often called their town. “That covers numbers sixteen and twenty-seven. Down the street and around the corner, we can snap a photo of the pond in the park for number thirty’s photo of ‘a body of water that’s not the ocean.’ I’m guessing most people will head for the river close to the jetty. That gives us an edge timewise because while we’re there, we can also collect a wildflower, take a photo of a rodent—there are tons of squirrels over there—and maybe even find a Frisbee. People play with their dogs there a lot because it’s not as windy as the beach. And then we can attempt a few more bonus items before time’s up.”
Rhys was impressed with her ability to strategize. She would have made a great soldier. When they neared the park, Willow immediately spotted a squirrel, and she and Anne jogged ahead to try to get a photo.
Rhys glanced at Camile. “Thank you for this. Willow is having a blast.”
“No problem. I’m having a great time, too.”
“I don’t know about the no-problem part. I know this was supposed to be your day off. You told me it was the first day you had nothing to do in forever, forced sick days notwithstanding. How are you feeling? If you need to take a break, just say the word.”
“I’m fine. And I just spent three days doing nothing. I don’t know if I remember what it’s like to do nothing anyway.”
“Why is that?”
“Working. Or school. For years, it was both.”
Rhys had been waiting for the opportunity to get some answers from her. “So how long were you in college? Harper said you just finished graduate school.”
“Seven years. I switched my major at the end of my junior year from premed to psychology. That tacked on an extra year or so. Then I had to wait another semester to start graduate school.” She made a noise that sounded like a chuckle of despair. “I know what you’re thinking—who switches from premed to psychology, right?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to be a doctor?” he answered gently. “Better you figure it out then than in the middle of med school.”
The look of appreciation she gave him made his heart ache because it was so obviously laced with pain. Beneath her cheerful bravado there was unmistakable anguish. He wanted to fix it. “Why do you seem disappointed in yourself for being brave enough to do what was right for you?”
“It’s complicated. At this point, I’m not sure if it was right for me. For one thing, my dad was extremely disappointed. He was so excited that I was going to be a doctor. It crushed him when I changed my mind.”
“Why? Why doesn’t he become a doctor if it means that much to him?”
Camile snuffled out a laugh. “Good point. My dad is a retired Coast Guard officer. He sees the world in black-and-white, good and bad, successful and not successful. My sisters are both unequivocally successful in his mind. Psychology is not a profession as far as he’s concerned.”
“Hmm. I’m not a biological parent, but I can say that as Willow’s guardian and doting uncle, I just want her to be happy. Sure, I’d like for her to live up to her potential, but I realize that her idea of success and mine might not mesh.”
“She’s very lucky to have you. Remember those words if she someday tells you she wants to join the circus.”
Rhys chuckled but stopped when he noted her troubled expression.
“My dad said that to me. He said, ‘I’d be less disappointed if you told me you were going to become a circus acrobat than a psychology major.’ That’s how strongly he feels about it.”
“That is rough.”
“It was.”
“But it’s your life.”
One side of her mouth pulled up like she wanted to smile. “That’s exactly what I told him. That, and that I did not need his approval. Or his help.”
“Good for you.” Rhys stopped near a patch of brush. Bending over, he picked two daisies and handed her one. “Wildflower, check.”
Staring down at the flower, she brushed a gentle finger over the petals.
“So now you prove him wrong by being wildly successful.”
Wincing a little, she said, “That would be nice, but...”
“But what? What are your plans? Are you looking for something full-time, maybe with benefits? What kind of job can you get with a master’s degree in psychology? Or are you considering going on to get your PhD?”
Camile kept her attention on the flower, twirling the stem between her fingers and nibbling on her cheek like she was thinking this over. Just say it, he thought. Talk to me. Tell me what your wicked friend wanted me to know. And then I’ll fix it and ask you out on a real date. I will make you happy, and I’ll never leave you. All of which he realized made him sound slightly stalkerish. But it wasn’t that. He just wanted to be with her and make her smile as much as possible and give her some of the joy she brought to everyone around her, especially him.
Finally, she sighed. Standing straight, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “Well, Rhys, here’s the thing. I don’t exactly have a plan. I do not have my master’s degree. I um... I messed up on my thesis. And right now, the thought of doing it all over again makes me want to curl into a ball and hide under my bed. I’ve never really had a clear-cut career goal in mind...” Shrugging her shoulders, she winced. “A degree was important to me, but I could never decide what I wanted to do. You know, like how I wanted to spend my days? I like science and medicine but not enough to commit my life to a lab or a hospital, you know? I’m better at...moving around.”
“Dancing,” Rhys supplied.
“Well, sure, yeah, that’s my true love. I will always dance in some capacity. But in real life, here I am, stuck in this limbo of part-time jobs with no benefits and—” She ended the sentence abruptly, and Rhys knew she was trying to decide how much to reveal. “And thinking about running off and joining the circus.” Her attempt at a smile only wound up looking grim and sad.
“What do you mean? How did you mess up on your thesis? Specifically?”
“Why are you so curious about this?” she asked, clearly avoiding his question.
“I’m going to tell you exactly why, because as I’m certain you’ve already learned about me, I’m not great at subtlety. I’m sure it’s obvious to you by now how much I enjoy being with you. And I don’t enjoy most people. It’s too difficult to even get to know them enough to try. They don’t get me, so I don’t bother. But you... You do seem to get me, or at least accept me for the way I am. And I like you, Camile. Very much. And I want to spend time with you under different circumstances, outside of dance lessons and stomach bugs.”
CAMILE WASN’T SURE her heart had ever beat so loudly. Rhys McGrath had just confessed to liking her. So much for her knight’s syndrome theory. And everything he claimed on her part was true: she liked him, and she understood him—or at least, she was on her way to that—and she wanted to spend time with him, too. Despite warning herself away from him and wishing otherwise. But she was also terrified and overwhelmed by...him. Silently, she cursed that awful, soul-shattering date. And the messed-up state that was currently her life.
“Rhys, I...” She swallowed nervously. Then began again, “You’re right, I do like you. I’m not going to deny that. But my life is a mess right now. I am in no place to have a relationship with anyone, especially someone who so clearly has it all together like you.”
“Is this your way of telling me you don’t return my feelings? Because you don’t need to make an excuse. If that’s the case, please just say so. The truth is always preferable to me.”
“No! I wouldn’t do that. I’m an honest person. Maybe not as honest as you, but that’s not it. I promise. I have so much...negative stuff going on right now.”
His smile was gentle but unconvinced. “How bad could it be?”
“Trust me, it’s bad. I’ve only touched on the highlights here.”
“Do you want to provide me with some details?”
“No.”
“Camile, sometimes when you’re in the midst of unfortunate circumstances, things can seem much worse than they are.”
“Is that so?” she asked dryly, growing annoyed by his indifference.
Missing her sarcasm, he seemed encouraged, and added, “Yes, maybe you just need some perspective.”
“Perspective?” She frowned.
“Let me help you. If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help. If there’s anything I can do for you, I’d like to—”
“Rhys,” she interrupted firmly. “There’s nothing you can do to help, and even if there were, I wouldn’t want you to. You’ve already done enough for me. I appreciate it more than you could ever know. Taking care of me when I was sick, making me food, your kindness and concern, the job, everything. But I have so much going on right now, and I’m the only one who can solve my problems. Trust me—they’re mine.” And a little bit yours, too, maybe. But she didn’t want to talk about that.
Camile had seen a young man approaching from the direction they’d come and assumed he’d keep walking. Instead, he stopped and peered deliberately at Camile. “Camile Wynn?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He handed over a manila envelope. “Consider yourself served.” Then he spun on his heel and marched away.
“Thank you!” she called after him with way too much enthusiasm. “Have a nice day.” With a wry grin and one quirked brow, she faced Rhys and managed much more bravado than she felt. “So I’m being sued. Is that detailed enough for you?”
ALL DAY, CAMILE had been aware of the speculative glances Rhys was getting from townsfolk. Gathered on the grassy expanse of lawn at the city park where the scavenger hunt’s after-party and award ceremony were being held, it was even more noticeable. It didn’t seem to bother Rhys, who, now that a mob of people surrounded them, had clammed up. He hadn’t left her side since they’d crossed the finish line. Willow was thrilled that they’d placed in the top half. As Harper predicted, her team had come first. Camile was fine with both Rhys’s reticence and his proximity. Taking her turn at playing knight, she found she rather enjoyed the duty.
The official serving of her legal papers had waylaid their conversation with timing that was both completely perfect and embarrassingly unfortunate. It had made her point and rendered an answer to his question unnecessary. She tried to ignore the pang of disappointment at his obvious lack of follow-up. Why did she want him to try to change her mind when she wouldn’t change it? She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
There’d been no point in trying to keep the lawsuit from him, but she’d only had time to give him an overview before an excited Willow had run up to them with objects and photos they’d sought. His outrage and derision at Bobby’s allegations had cheered her considerably. If it only lasted for the afternoon, then so be it. Dwelling on what might have been would not clean up the chaos that was her life. Doing her best to make sure Willow had a good time was an excellent distraction and her current objective.
Rhys and Camile were on their way to a picnic table with heaping plates of steaming clams, crab and shrimp when an obviously drunk Sam Garr approached. Camile knew Sam. A year behind her in school, he’d been a football star neither destined for the pros nor a career in rocket science.
“Hey, you’re that Rhys McGrath guy, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Rhys said, stopping beside Camile.
Reaching out a hand, he said, “Sam Garr.”
Rhys shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”
Sam tossed Camile one of those short, single head-bobs acknowledging her presence. “Hi, Camile. How ya doing?”
“Hey, Sam. I’m all right. How are you?”
But Sam was already zeroed back in on his intended target. Fixated and tense, he glowered at Rhys. “You’re the guy who lives out on the lighthouse headland, right?”
“Yes.”
Like a belligerent hitchhiker, he flipped a thumb in the direction of a group of guys huddled nearby, most of whom Camile also recognized. Snickering ensued from the pack. Great, Camile thought, now packs of people were ganging up on him. “I’m hoping you can settle a little bet for my buddies and me.”
Rhys seemed unfazed. “Doubtful,” he said flatly.
“Doubtful,” Sam repeated, his face twisted with confusion. “Why is that?”
“My guess is that you’re going to ask me a question that is either A—designed to make me look like a fool, or B—none of your business. Therefore, my response to either type of question will fail to settle any bets.”
And, here we go, thought Camile.
Sam went straight-up belligerent. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Have you?”
“Yeah. Mr. Fancy-Pants Navy SEAL Superrich-Guy walking around town thinking he’s better than everyone else.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Sam. I am an ex-SEAL. I do okay, but I wouldn’t say I’m superrich. And I wear regular pants. Unlike you.” Rhys’s gaze flicked down and back up, and Camile wondered how he could put so much derision into a gesture.
Sam glanced down at his ridiculously low-riding baggy pants, the crotch drooping nearly to his knees. Snapping his head back up, he glowered at Rhys. “Are you insulting my pants, man?”
“Maybe.”
“What?” he snapped.
“I don’t think anyone over the age of sixteen should be wearing pants like that. They’re a safety hazard. I hope you’re not wearing those at work.”
Twin spots of color flamed brightly on Sam’s cheeks. “You know what I’m going to do?”
“Buy a belt?”
“I’m going to beat you into next week.”
Camile rolled her eyes as Sam made a show of pushing up his sleeves.
“You might want to rethink that,” Rhys calmly replied like he was cautioning a child to avoid stepping in a puddle or advising a friend about which entrée to choose. “You’ve already stated that you’re aware of the fact that I’m a former navy SEAL. Not only will such an attempt on your part hurt you much more than it will me, but when I’m finished neutralizing you, I might be tempted to strangle you with your own pants. How would that look to your friends?”
Tense with concern, Anne had descended upon them in time to catch this last exchange. “Rhys, can you come with me for a—”
“Here, take this.” Camile handed Anne her plate. Then she belted out a laugh, clapped Sam on the shoulder and said, “Hey, Sam, remember that time back in high school when Sonny Dowling’s sweatpants fell off in gym class?”