She adored Trystan, but they had enjoyed too many fart jokes when they were six for her to see him as a romantic interest. He’d seen too many longing looks from her toward his brother to want to compete, either. He liked her. She would dare to say he loved her the way he loved his cousins and stepsiblings, but the one time they had kissed over spin the bottle, they had laughed themselves weak over how wrong it had felt.
They had landed on being very good friends. Often that was from a distance. Sophie didn’t resent that distance because she knew that’s what Trystan preferred. Her understanding of him made their friendship as strong as it was. For his part, he gave her his nonjudgmental support, no matter how rashly, or irrationally, she behaved.
He was the second person after her mom who she’d told she was pregnant.
What do you need? had been his response.
I need you to tell me I’ll be a good mom.
You’ll be a great mom. He’d sounded so sure, not hesitating for a second, she couldn’t help but believe him.
He’d been away a lot through the years, but he had often called to say, I’m heading off-grid. I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay before I go.
He meant money and she had never asked him for any, but she knew she could and that meant a lot. It was that kind of friendship. The handful of times they’d crossed paths, when he had been in the area to visit relatives, he always made a point of having a coffee and catch up with her and Gramps and Biyen.
So she helped him tidy up the Storm Ridge without being asked. She moved through the various decks collecting garbage, not filling the silence with chatter because it was enough to be around him. When she brought all the litter to the galley, he was in the saloon, stuffing bedding into a commercial laundry bag that was already full.
“Ready to go straight into the bush?” she guessed.
“Straight there, never coming back.”
“How did an introvert get saddled with tourism?”
“I opened my big mouth. Reid said we should sell these tubs. I said they were a solid addition to the business. He said, Prove it, and here I am.”
“Rookie.”
“Yup.”
Trystan would prove it, though. He wasn’t the bullheaded force that Reid was, or the relentless charmer that Logan was, but he was absolutely as tenacious and driven to achieve.
These ecotours fed directly into what had provoked him to make his wilderness series. He wanted people to see and value the environment so they would understand why delicate natural ecosystems needed to be preserved. Economically, these cruises were good for the resort and local businesses, bringing money from afar. They also gave the local First Nations people a chance to tell their side of history.
“It’s not that bad,” he admitted. “My steward and first mate both like to chat so they usually carry the social load. I gave them the week off so Reid and Em could have their cabin and Em was great. She made sure all the guests were happy and Reid gets shit done without being asked, but having Emma’s mom aboard meant I had to be more engaged. And Reid had so many hot takes. Why don’t you do it this way? Why don’t you take us over there? He’s exhausting. Take the wheel if you think you can do better.”
Sophie bit her lip, far too amused when something got under Trystan’s skin because so little did. His brothers were always a guaranteed culprit, though.
“You both came back alive,” she noted. “He said it was a good trip and that you should be charging more.”
“Probably,” he conceded. “Delta seemed to enjoy it. That made Emma happy, which made Reid happy.”
“Look at you, making the world a better place one cruise at a time.” She angled her elbow toward him.
“My work here is done, then. You want to refuel this beast so I can get lost?”
“I hate to tell you, sport, but Glenda is cooking dinner at the house.”
“Logan couldn’t hack it and had to call his mom?” His lip curled with smug amusement.
“To be fair, Randy is away and Storm got sick. We needed backup.”
“What happened?” His head came up in concern.
“Just a little fever. She’s fine now. But you know how Glenda likes to see her kids all together, playing nice.”
“You’ll be there, too, then?” His brows lifted in challenge.
“We’ll see how my time is.” She hooked the band that held a curtain open, brushing the bottom so the skirt of it fell nicely. “I need to catch up the weeding in the garden. If I don’t, Glenda will be out there tomorrow, and my conscience can’t hack that. Not with her back the way it is.”
“I will tattle so fast if you can’t find a better excuse than weeding.”
“You child.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Okay, what if I help you turn this place over, then you come weed with me? I promise not to talk to you.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he said pithily. “But sure. Let’s do that.”
Chapter Eight
Logan was puzzled when Trystan arrived with Art, riding in the Gator with him as Art puttered it up the drive.
Logan drew a couple of cans of beer from the ice-filled cooler and offered them in greeting.
“Thanks, son.” Art accepted a can and took it to the nearest lawn chair in the shade.
“I thought you were still on the Storm Ridge,” Logan said to Trystan.
“I was helping Sophie in her garden.”
“Why?”
