“I’ve been in Vegas for the last month.”
“So I’ve heard.” If she only knew how badly he wanted to know every detail about the competition, she’d be shocked. Learning he’d watched every episode would probably give her a heart attack. There was another episode tonight, and he planned to barricade himself inside his room with some heavily buttered popcorn. But Liam couldn’t let Tessa have all the cards. It was too dangerous admitting any of this. “What seems to be the trouble?” He nodded toward the mess on the counter.
“I want to make breakfast, but there’s nofoodhere.”
Knowing it would rile her up, he strutted to the fridge and tossed open the door. “Looks pretty stocked to me.”
She tossed her hands up, sending a towel flying in the process. It landed at Raven’s feet. “I can’t cook with this.”
“I see eggs, milk, and bacon. Fresh blueberries even. I bet Tillie Grant brought those over. What more do you need?” Liam wasn’t the greatest cook. And when it came to grilling, it was best to have the fire department on speed dial. But he could rustle up eggs and bacon with little trouble.
Tessa rolled her eyes, retrieving the towel. “You wouldn’t get it.”
He almost told her this wasn’t some gourmet challenge, but he caught himself before that slipped out. Instead, he offered, “There’re muffins and fruit already out for the guests.” Just like there had been every morning since they opened. In half an hour, Sophie or Cadence would add orange juice and a pot of coffee to the spread. The routine had worked well, and as far as Liam knew, not a single guest complained. “Come to Moosecakes with me,” he said once again.
Tessa narrowed her eyes, but softened when the husky trotted over to her and offered her head for a scratch. Raven leaned against her legs, but even her soft, pleading eyes didn’t seem to do the trick. “I can’t.”
“What’s all this racket?” Cadence asked with a yawn, rubbing her tired eyes in the process.
“Chef Tessa isn’t impressed with your kitchen,” Liam chimed in before Tessa had a chance to defend herself.
“Don’t listen to him,” Tessa said. “It’s just not a setup I’m used to, that’s all. And you don’t have baking powder.”
“You don’t have to worry about breakfast, Tessa.” With another yawn, Cadence crossed the kitchen to a tall cupboard near the fridge and pulled out a canister. “They like the muffins. Besides, most of the guests have plans, and some already left. A few of them booked a kayaking trip today, and the show time is five. Here’s your baking powder.”
“Where did you find that?”
“In the cupboard by the fridge. Where it always is.”
“Then I have scones to make. I’m going to make breakfast while I’m here. Make myself useful.”
With that declaration, Liam stopped pressing for a Moosecakes date he didn’t have time for anyway. Denver Grant was expecting him to pick up his boat in twenty minutes. But he was curious about one thing. “How longareyou here for?”
“I’m waiting for a call,” Tessa said, stuffing the towel she’d been holding over the oven handle and hefting the canister of baking powder. “When they tell me to come back, I have to leave.”
Liam didn’t like the sound of that. It put everything he thought he’d figured out up in the air again. He’d been convinced Tessa lost or she wouldn’t be here. She’d be lounging in Vegas, enjoying the spoils of her victory until the final episode aired and she could tell the world. But instead, she’d hopped—unannounced—on a plane to Alaska.
His eyes dropped to the rolled-up chef’s knives on the counter. If she wasn’t planning to stay more than a couple of days, why would she risk something happening to her most prized possession by putting it in a checked bag? The expensive knives could get lost or stolen, and were better left in a safe place.
Something still didn’t add up.
The thoughts only whirled around in his head as Liam drove the short distance to the Grant residence. Tessa Whitmore was not an easy woman to wear down, and she’d only gotten tougher during their years apart. But Liam wasn’t deterred. He’d give this his best shot, and if Tessa still decided to leave, well, Liam would move on.
He had to.
As he snaked his truck up the driveway, he spotted Denver standing beside his aluminum fishing boat, once a bright yellow, but now in desperate need of a paint job. It was definitely a little rougher around the edges than Denver described. But it had potential.
Denver—the oldest of Tillie Grant’s sons—moved home a month ago after completing his military commitment. He had joined the Army a year after Liam got out. He was staying with his parents while waiting on the closing of a house he bought on Fireweed Lane. Liam knew because his mom was Denver’s realtor. But even if that weren’t the case, most of Sunset Ridge knew, too. Secrets never kept long in this town.
“Thanks for coming by,” Denver greeted as Liam hopped out of his truck. “Ryder needed my truck this week for a fishing trip.”
“He left you behind?” Liam said with a smirk.
Denver shook his head. “Said I could come when my boat was working.” Denver was three or four years younger than Liam, so they hadn’t spent much time together when they were kids. But from what Liam remembered of him, he was a good kid. “Motor doesn’t sound too great. Was hoping you could take a look.”
“Where’d you get this?” Liam asked.
“From a guy in Kenai. Said it needed some TLC, but the price was too good to pass up, even if it ends up being a yard ornament.”
