The Promise (Thunder Point #5)(37)

“Rawley...”

“Cooper’s got the store out there at the beach. Landon’s got cleanup and boat and board rentals.”

Carrie shifted her weight. Just standing for a few minutes bothered her. “Did Ashley say something about me needing help?”

“No, ma’am. She did mention that she made most of the wraps and sandwiches, but some of your other stuff would just have to wait on your knee. It got me thinking... One plate of those crab balls and Cooper might give me a bonus. Now what say we get started?”

She just shook her head in wonder. “Of all the people in the world I might expect to come to my aid, you are certainly the last, Mr. Goode.”

“Now that doesn’t speak well of me at all, Miss James.”

* * *

It took Peyton a few days to get her head together after the news of Ted’s engagement and pending fatherhood. Her struggle didn’t show, especially at the clinic. Other than a quick, “How are you doing?” from Scott, nothing was said. After a few days, she felt less obsessive, though she thought it might take her years to think back on her time with Ted and the way it ended without feeling hurt and resentment. But that’s what people dealt with. Relationships could be real messy—one of her brothers was divorced, and he was still pretty pissed off about it, though it looked as if he was better off.

That’s all she wanted at the moment—for it to look as if she was okay. She knew her deeper emotions were bound to catch up. Eventually.

Scott, she had to grudgingly admit, had been a real find in every way. Not only had he given her a nice place to work, to rest while she got her life back together, but he’d been very supportive. He was a nice guy, there was no question. He wasn’t like Ted, not in any way. He was good-looking and sexy, but Scott didn’t seem to know it. His shoulders and forearms spoke of strength, yet he handled little old ladies and small children with such gentle care. His smile could be mesmerizing while his eyes drew a person closer. And he had a very cute butt in those jeans. But most of all, if you were with Scott, whether as a coworker, patient or friend, you felt secure.

And never mind all that—it was his integrity that Peyton appreciated. She was very grateful for that. She believed they were going to be very good friends.

She had been eavesdropping in the clinic and figured out that Scott was camping on the beach with the kids tonight. The July night was warm and clear with a cool breeze off the water. Scott’s sitter had been back in town for a few days, so in the morning she would take the kids and Scott could go to work. She had heard him explaining it to Devon. “I’d better get this camping trip over with. Will won’t shut up about it.”

Peyton packed up a thermos and cups in a beach tote, parked at the marina and walked across the beach to the site where a small, yellow tent was pitched. The tent was glowing from a dim light inside. There was still a bit of a fire, and as far as she could tell, there were no other people on the beach. He was close to the hill just below Devon’s house, and there was a light on outside Devon’s lower floor.

As she drew closer she could just make out Scott sitting right outside the tent’s zippered opening. He was cross-legged on a towel beside the fire. “Ahoy,” she said quietly, drawing near.

“I thought that was you,” he said. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“It’s only nine-thirty. Are they already asleep?”

“Out cold. I ran them around the beach for a while, took them for a bathroom stop at Devon’s and bedded them down.” He reached over to the small cooler next to him. On top was something wrapped in foil. “S’more?”

She knelt in the sand on the other side of his fire. “I believe I will. Was that dinner?”

“First, hot dogs, then s’mores. My stomach is roiling,” he said.

“Did you put an open can of beans on the coals? Because that’s real camping.”

“That’s all I’d need, right?”

“What’s lighting that tent?”

“Battery operated night-light. The last thing I need is some clown in a dune buggy mowing us down in the night. That’s why we’re out here on a Thursday night instead of the weekend. Less competition.”

“I brought you some hot chocolate,” she said, passing him the beach bag.

“I don’t suppose it has a little brandy in it?”

“I’m afraid not. Are you going to need a little something to get to sleep?”

“I think I’ll be napping with one eye open. The other thing I’m not in favor of is a kid wandering into the water.”

“Did Devon leave the light on for you?”

He nodded and poured himself a cup of hot chocolate. “Half the fun of camping is peeing behind a rock or bush, but if we have any larger issues, her door is unlocked.” He sipped the hot drink. “This is great, Peyton. Really nice of you.” He reached back, pulled a log off a pile and tossed it on the embers.

“You’re a very good sport,” she told him. “This is the sort of thing they’ll always remember.”

“Me, too,” he said. “What kinds of things from your childhood stand out?”

She chuckled a little. “Come on, I grew up on a farm—it’s a playground twenty-four hours a day. While my folks didn’t get to all the school events, just about every class party for every kid was held on the farm. My dad buried potatoes and ears of corn with hot coals, there was barbecue and homemade ice cream. And there was nookie in the loft.”