Page 13 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“Stop what?”

“Being right. Being...” I gestured at him helplessly. “Understanding. It makes it harder to stay angry at your ridiculous proposals.”

A smile tugged at his lips—not his business smile or charming-the-guests smile, but the real one I remembered from summer bonfires years ago. “My ridiculous proposals that got the Harrison wedding party to not only calm down but book three extra rooms for their guests?”

“Pure luck,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling back.

“Skill,” he corrected, stepping closer. The deck rail pressed against my back, and suddenly, I was aware of his presence. “The same skill that will help save Pine Haven if you let me.”

The air between us grew thick with tension. He was too close, smelling of cedar and fresh sawdust from helping Jorge, a combination that made my pulse race. Michael’s warning screamed in my head, but my body swayed toward him instinctively, remembering other moments like this—always interrupted, always left wondering.

My phone’s sharp ring shattered the moment. Hunter stepped back as I fumbled for it, seeing Michael’s name again. The universe had perfect timing.

“I should take this,” I said, already moving toward the door, needing escape.

“Amelia?” Hunter’s voice stopped me. When I looked back, the sunset painted him in gold, making him look like he belonged here. “We make a good team, you know. When you’re not fighting me at every turn.”

I escaped inside before he could see how his words affected me, answering the phone with shaking hands. “Michael?”

“Tell me you haven’t fallen for him again.” My brother’s voice was sharp and concerned.

I sank into my office chair, watching through the window as Hunter absently traced the railing we’d just been leaning against. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sis. I remember how you looked at him at Taylor’s wedding. After the dance, when you thought no one was watching. And now he’s there, playing hero...”

I walked to my car under a sky full of stars—the same stars that had watched over Pine Haven for generations. Behind me, laughter drifted from the deck—Hunter’s deep chuckle mixing with the Hendersons’ joy. The sound followed me home, with the memory of his smile, his hand on the railing where we’d almost...

Professional, I reminded myself firmly. We had to keep this professional.

But as I fell asleep that night, I couldn’t help wondering if some damages were worth risking everything for.

Chapter Four

Hunter

Dawn painted Pine Haven’s kitchen in shades of gray and gold. Even at 5 AM, the resort had its heartbeat—the hum of industrial refrigerators, the distant rumble of delivery trucks, the soft ping of coffee makers coming to life. I leaned against a stainless steel counter, watching Amelia orchestrate the breakfast shift with military precision, her movements practiced from years of early mornings.

“Third delivery’s late,” she told Maria, checking her clipboard. “Call Roberto directly, not the company line. And Jorge—the waffle maker in station two is still sticking.”

“You don’t have to be here,” she added without looking up, somehow sensing my presence. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than watch me count coffee beans.”

“I don’t.” My voice echoed slightly in the quiet kitchen. “Can’t develop a realistic business strategy without understanding day-to-day operations.” And without understanding you, I added silently, noting how even exhausted she moved with quiet authority—the same way Mom used to manage our household staff.

She finally looked at me, suspicion clear in her green eyes. The early light caught gold flecks I’d never noticed before. “And that requires you to be here at five in the morning?”

“That requires me to understand everything.” I straightened, rolling up my sleeves. The familiar motion reminded me of helping Dad in our kitchen, where I’d learned the value of hands-on work. “So, where do you want me?”

For a moment, I thought she might argue. Then, her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Fine. You can help Fernando with the pastry delivery. But change first.” She gestured to my casual but expensive outfit. “Those aren’t work clothes.”

Twenty minutes later, wearing jeans and a borrowed Pine Haven staff polo that smelled faintly of mountain air and industrial detergent, I was hauling boxes of fresh pastries from Marie’s Bakery. Fernando, the head kitchen porter, watched me with barely concealed amusement.

“Not what you expected from resort management, eh?” Fernando asked in heavily accented English, deftly catching a box I nearly dropped.

I grinned, hefting another crate of still-warm pastries. “Honestly? No. But it’s eye-opening.” Like how the kitchen staff moved in a choreographed dance around each other, communicating in half-sentences and knowing looks—the rhythm that only came from years of working together.

“Ms. Horton,” Fernando nodded toward where Amelia was teaching a new server the espresso machine, her voice patient despite the growing pre-breakfast pressure. “She doeseverything. kitchen, housekeeping, maintenance—whatever needs doing. No job too small.”

“How long has she been running things this way?” The question came out more concerned than I’d intended.

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