Page 53 of Rootbound

“Sounds good to me.” I quickly finish off the pastry, catching Charlie’s shrewd look before he pipes up.

“Actually, Jake, why don’t you go over the rewrites and the scenes with me today so we can have a solid game plan together. I’d rather be efficient with our time instead of wandering around in this heat. I need Henry to stick to some scouting today before our hunting trip.”

My face pulls into a frown, because Charlie knows damn well that in this early season heat wave, the elk won’t be moving around at all, and he can’t stand Jake just as much as I can’t. He has never treated me as anything less than a son, but we’ve got an unspoken agreement that when it comes tothisside of the business, it’s typically on me to grin and bear it.

“Alright. Well, ready to get started, then?” Jake asks, not doing a great job at hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yep, I’ll meet you out front,” Charlie dismisses him.

“It was great meeting you, Tait. I look forward to seeing you around,” Jake says before waving the rest of us off and heading out front. Asshat.

Charlie scoffs as soon as he’s out the door.

“Well, I know you’ll get good pictures next week on set and behind the scenes and whatnot,”he says to Tait, flourishing his hands agitatedly, “but you should take this time to get some better material of this place outside of the show. Lord knows our website needs updating.”

“Of course, Henry seems to have a good plan,” she replies with a sweet smile and a sidelong glance my way.

It catches Charlie off guard, his stare lingering a little too long on her face before he squeezes her shoulder, reaches over to kiss his mother on the cheek, and heads out. Grace walks him to the door.

I might not understand his angle, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth on this one. I nod a confused thanks and glance from Tait’s quizzical face over to Mrs. Logan’s beaming one. She sips her tea and gets up, slowly for her, before gathering the empty plates and starting the dishes. Tait gets up silently and heads toward the bathroom. I wonder if she is cognizant of knowing where it’s located.

“Emma, please don’t, damnit,” Grace says as soon as she returns. I chuckle at the familiar dance they’re entering into.

“Oh, stop. I’ll do these, and you put away the leftovers. I’ll bring them over to Grady and Caleb on my way out,” Mrs. Logan replies.

“Where are Grady and Caleb this morning, by the way?” Tait asks when she gets back, and an unsure look passes over her face, like she’s mad at herself for being comfortable. Jesus, I need to dial back on being tuned in to this woman and her expressions.

Grace chimes in, “They’re already at LeighAnn’s starting on the garden work. We’re getting a late start and with the heat I don’t have high hopes, but…”

“But Grace is the MacGyver of gardening. Between Henry and Grace, they’vemade this place almost completely self-sufficient.” Mrs. Logan throws her a loving look. Color drains from her face suddenly, though, and she grips the edge of the sink with white knuckles. I jump up and over there, but only hover, knowing better than to call Mrs. Logan out on any kind of frailty. While she and Grace share some silent communication, Tait, oblivious to the moment, starts piling things into the Tupperware containers on the counter. I catch Grace’s eye and do my best meaningful look towards Mrs. Logan and back.

“Shoot, you know what—I just remembered. I have an appointment in town and need Em to drive me.” Grace nods. Mrs. Logan gives us both a resigned look, some color returning to her face.

“No biggie,” Tait says, looking at us all suspiciously.

“Tait—I’ll meet you at the truck. I uhh… gotta use the bathroom,” I say, and wish I could punch myself directly in the face.Nice one, Henry. Great seduction tactic, letting her wonder about your bowel movements.

She nods my way, then looks to Grace and Mrs. L, saying, “Thank you for the muffin.” She smiles warmly, awkwardly (adorably) waving a hand before she goes.

Grace waits a beat after hearing the door shut before turning to me.

“She needs to go to the hospital; she’s needed to for days now, but I can’t get her to.”

“Don’t speak about me like I’m not goddamn here, Grace. I’m fine, just old,” Mrs. Logan says, but it’s lacking her typical venom.

“Mrs. Logan. You know I would never insult you. But youwent from Helen Mirren to the crypt keeper in half a second. I think Grace is right,” I say.

She squeezes my arm, giving me a glassy-eyed look.

“Tell him, Em,” Grace says quietly, earning a defeated look from the woman I consider my grandmother.

“Tell me what?”

Twenty-Six

Tait

Henry’s presence proves to be more distracting than I’d like. And not just because of the pangs of lust that surge each time he does some small, inconsequential, purely masculine thing (e.g., throwing his arm over the back of my seat and looking over his shoulder to back the truck out, scratching his beard, doing thedishesfor fuck’s sake), but also because something is… off.