Page 10 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“No, you’re looking at this like any other business. Numbers on a spreadsheet. But Pine Haven isn’t—”

A knock interrupted my tirade. Sophie stood in the doorway, anxiety written in the tight lines around her eyes. That expression—one I’d seen too often lately—made my stomach sink. “Ms. Horton? We have a situation. Three housekeepers called in sick, and we have a full house this weekend.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, already moving toward the door, grateful for the excuse to escape this conversation and Hunter’s too-perceptive gaze.

“I’ll come with you.” He rose, his chair scraping against the new deck boards—boards he’d somehow replaced overnight, like some corporate fairy godfather.

“No.” It came out sharper than intended. I softened my tone at his raised eyebrow, though the concern in his eyes made it harder to maintain distance. “I mean, you work on the marketing plan. This is my job.”

As I followed Sophie inside, I caught my reflection in the glass doors—professional blazer, carefully chosen outfit—about to be ruined by hands-on resort management. But that’s what Pine Haven needed right now. Not marketing strategies or corporate retreats. Just someone willing to do whatever it took to keep it running, to keep its heart beating.

The next two hours blurred into a symphony of phone calls and reorganized schedules. I ended up helping strip beds myself, my carefully chosen armor collecting dust as I worked alongside the housekeeping staff. Monique, our head housekeeper of fifteen years, protested at first, her familiar accent thick with concern.

“Ms. Horton, you shouldn’t—”

“Remember when I was twelve, and you taught me the proper way to fold fitted sheets?” I asked, already gathering linens that held the scent of Pine Haven’s signature lavender soap—Mom’s recipe, still used after all these years. “Time to put those skills to use.”

Through it all, I felt Hunter watching from a distance. He’d stationed himself in the hallway with his laptop, pretending to work but monitoring the situation. Every time I passed, I caught him observing how we handled room turnover, how the staff communicated, and how guests were managed. Always analyzing, always planning—exactly what made him successful and what made Pine Haven more than another business project.

It was nearly noon when I finally made it back to my office, exhausted and disheveled. To my surprise, Hunter was still there, working at the conference table as if he belonged in my space. Fresh coffee sat on my desk—he must have noticed I’d missed my usual mid-morning cup. The thoughtfulness of the gesture stirred something deep inside me.

“You missed a spot,” he said without looking up, gesturing to a dust smudge on my cheek.

I rubbed at my cheek self-consciously, painfully aware of how far I’d fallen from my carefully planned professional appearance. “Don’t you have better things to do than hang around here all day?”

Now he looked up, his expression serious, making my pulse skip. “You could have called in temp workers.”

“And risk the quality of service our guests expect? No thanks.” I thought of Monique teaching the newer staff her special towel-folding technique, passed down through years of pride in her work. “These rooms aren’t just places to sleep. They’re where memories happen.”

“So instead, you do it yourself.” It wasn’t a question. Something in his voice made me meet his eyes directly, despite my disheveled state.

“Whatever it takes,” I said firmly, meaning every word. “That’s what running Pine Haven means.”

Something shifted in his expression—respect, maybe, or understanding. The same look he’d had at Taylor’s wedding when I’d left the dance floor to help a lost child find her parents. “I know I push hard, Amelia. But I see how much you’re willing to sacrifice for this place. I want to help make sure those sacrifices pay off.”

The sincerity in his voice made it hard to breathe. Before I could respond—before I could do something foolish like thank him or, worse, trust him—my phone buzzed. Michael’s name lit up the screen, his timing as impeccable as ever.

“I should take this,” I said, grateful for the interruption. “My brother.”

Hunter nodded, gathering his things. His eyes lingered on the coffee he’d left on my desk—my favorite roast, I realized, from the local shop in town. Just another detail he shouldn’t have known. “I’ll review the housekeeping schedules, see if we can prevent another staffing crisis. Maybe set up some on-call arrangements with local agencies.”

As he left, I answered the phone, sinking into my chair. “Michael? Everything okay?”

“That depends.” My brother’s voice was tight with concern. “Want to tell me why Hunter Miller is suddenly playing white knight at Pine Haven?”

I caught a whiff of the coffee Hunter had left—the blend I’d mentioned liking months ago at Taylor’s wedding. “Dad told you?”

“Sophie did. She’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, watching through my window as Hunter stopped to help Mrs. Wilson with her bags, his easy charm making her smile. “Hunter’s helping with marketing strategy, that’s all.”

“Is it?” Michael’s tone held the skepticism he usually reserved for my more questionable decisions. “Because from what I hear, he’s practically moved in. And Sis?” His voice softened the way it had after Mom died when he’d appointed himself my protector. “You need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know Hunter better than you think. We ran in the same circles in high school, remember? He’s good at what he does because he gets personally invested. And when things go south...”

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