“Thanks.” She beams. “Oh, I almost forgot. Would you mind running Tate’s phone down to the boat? I need to start getting ready.”
“Sure.” I take the cracked phone from her. “Need help with anything else?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got it down.” She nods toward the boat, where the guys are still barely interacting. “You know, I could talk to Wren about dropping the ‘Tourist Girl’ nickname if it really bothers you.”
I shake my head quickly. “No, I’m good. He’ll come around once he gets to know me.”
She seems to like that answer. “I’m sure that’s true. I’m really glad he accepted your offer. I think it’ll be good for him to have somebody around who’s into all the history stuff he loves. I’ve tried, but I just don’t have it in me. And Tate, well, I don’t think he’s actually tried.”
We both laugh.
“Well,” she says, hesitating for half a second before leaning in for a quick hug. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other. Maybe we can even hang out sometime?”
I exhale slightly, relieved that I hadn’t misread the friendship signs. “I’d like that.”
She drives off as I head down to the boat. Tate is still in his captain’s chair, watching Wren but not saying anything.
Something is definitely going on there, but as curious as I am, I don’t know either of them well enough to ask. Instead, I lift up Tate’s cell as I approach.
“I can now officially add phone delivery to my list of duties for the day.” I pass it up to Wren, who tosses it to Tate without a word.
“Thanks,” he says, then considers me as though a thought just occurred to him. “You got a camera on your phone?”
“Of course. I like my clothes to be from another time, not my phone. Why?”
“Then that’s what you’re doing today,” he says matter-of-factly. “Taking pictures of the tour guests interacting with the mermaid for the website.” His tone tightens slightly, jaw flexing before he adds, “We’re making some changes.”
Behind him, Tate stiffens.
I eye them both, curiosity flaring. “I can do that.”
“Make sure Tate’s in plenty of the shots,” Wren says, his voice deceptively even. “And get some before we reach Eryn.”
“Before? Where exactly do you want me to get them?” I scan the shoreline, mentally retracing the route Goldie and I took on our tour. My head starts to spin. We covered so much ground. Does he actually expect me to—what—chase the boat? “How many pictures are we talking here?” I ask, attempting to mask my anxiety at the sight of the waist-high, spindly beach grass that promises to shred my bare legs.
“Every few minutes is fine.” His voice carries just enough challenge that I can’t ignore it, even as I feel Tate watching me.
I take a step closer, lowering my voice so it’s just between us. “Why do I feel like I’m being punished for something I didn’t even do?”
Wren flinches—his eyes shift with a hint of realization, as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now. He tightens his grip on the railing, then exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders still there but easing now. “I just need the photos. Can you do it or not?”
Deciding that now isn’t the time to push back, I nod. “Not a problem. I take listing photos for my mom’s house flips. I’m good. In fact, if you’d told me that you wanted pictures today, not only would I have not worn this romper, but I’d have brought my DSLR camera and offered to edit the photos too.”
There’s another slight crack in his armor, and I can see it for just a second—maybe a flicker of approval or maybe just a shiftin how he sees me. “Good, huh?” he says, a bit more dry than usual.
“Really good. So good that you won’t have a shred of doubt left about my capabilities.”
He stares at me, his expression giving nothing away. “All right then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Eleven
Wren
I pull off my glasses and half close my laptop with what I hope passes for nonchalance just as Lili strolls into the back room the next morning, all breezy confidence, like she owns the place.
“Morning.”
Her outfit catches me off guard, and I hate that I notice it at all. She’s put-together, like always—some kind of green shorts and a top with tiny cherry clusters all over it. Even her hair, loose and wavy, looks like it took effort.
