Page 7 of Best Laid Plans (Rock Harbor #1)

He held his hands up. There was no reason to explain to Elle the memories that shirt held, and why he was happy to be rid of them.

Even if seeing Elle in it was creating a whole new host of confusing memories that blurred bad feelings with good ones, making something entirely new that he didn’t know how to feel about.

He cleared his throat, like he was weighing the decision heavily. Finally, he let out an accepting sigh. “It’s all yours.”

Elle’s eyes lit up so brightly that it was like he’d just solved the world’s problems. And now, with a full smile on her face, her hold on the t-shirt shifted from protectiveness to something that Cam thought was more like the way someone held a puppy.

That was Cam’s cue to leave. He wasn’t anyone’s hero, and he hoped that Elle knew that. “Anyway, this was a fun walk down memory lane, but I’m heading downstairs. Your omelette’s getting cold.”

He turned quickly and crossed the room in seconds so that when Elle said, “thank you,” he was already heading out the apartment door.

Pierce’s Lobster Co. felt like home. The smell of fresh seafood enveloped him as he walked in the glass double doors. It smelled like a salty ocean breeze, slightly briny, and he took in a deep inhale.

The front of the restaurant was a seating area decked out with simple, square tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths, each with four wooden chairs set around them.

On the walls, Cam could still see the faded blue lobsters that Mr. Pierce had made he and Wyatt paint along the right side of the room, though just like his football shirt, they’d grown faded over the years.

Affixed to that wall were dozens of family photos of Wyatt and Elle.

Cam, too, after he’d come on the scene. Plus other family photos of various configurations, mostly all taken at the restaurant.

The left side of the room was a large glass window that gave the restaurant a bright, airy feel that most dingy lobster shacks weren’t known for.

The Pierces’ had a good thing going–a traditional, no frills seafood restaurant–even though it had grown a little more weathered with time.

He plucked at his t-shirt as he surveyed the room. The air was already warm from the large stock pots, at least a dozen, which would be filled with fresh lobsters to boil throughout the day.

Cam hadn’t been back to Rock Harbor in eight months, the longest he’d ever been away.

Once he’d been selected for Ultimate Chef , things had moved quickly.

He was on set in Los Angeles for six weeks to film the show, and after the three months of post-production, it had begun airing about four months ago.

Once he’d returned to Boston after filming had wrapped, life hadn’t stopped. He’d been making a name for himself in the city as an acclaimed chef, but being on a nationally televised show had upped the ante in a way he hadn’t really been prepared to deal with.

Michael Vittori, the owner of Gossamer, where Cam (maybe) worked, hadn’t known he was going to win. But that hadn’t stopped him from milking any and all notoriety he could bring to the restaurant as the show was airing.

By the final episode, Cam had felt like a prized pony being trotted around, almost wishing that he wouldn’t have won.

It had taken four days for Michael to plan the celebration party that would kick off the most chaotic night of his life.

And now, as he stood in the restaurant that had truly made him the chef he was, he felt like shit for not coming back sooner.

These were the people he should have been celebrating with.

Further evidenced when he heard a loud, “Cam,” boom across the restaurant, a tray clattering immediately after it.

He looked across the waist-high, chipped countertop that separated the sitting area from the kitchen to see Mrs. Pierce, who’d just come out of the kitchen area and was already walking toward the dining room to meet him.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Pierce,” he said as she hugged him in a way that he allowed almost no one else to do.

She finally released him from the hug. “I swear you get taller every time I see you,” Standing up on her tiptoes, she placed gentle hands on each side of his face before touching softly at the bruise that had formed overnight on his cheek.

Michael had definitely gotten the worst of it, even though he’d gotten in a few sucker punches on Cam.

“What happened to you? Are you okay? I figured you were rolling into town to celebrate. Jim, Wyatt, and I watched together. We knew you’d win.

That talent of yours combined with your work ethic.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. God, it’s been long enough since I laid eyes on you,” she chided him, already saying more words in the past thirty seconds than Cam said in an entire day unless it was related to what was happening in a restaurant kitchen.

But he loved her for it, and he could admit, at least to himself, that he liked how she clucked about him. It was something he’d never experienced first-hand until meeting Mrs. Pierce.

“I’m okay. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.” Shame washed through him that even after all her nurturing over the years, he’d still ended up turning to his fists. He felt like he owed her an explanation. “This was sort of an exceptional circumstance.”

“Then if you’re okay, let’s focus on the good.

” She took a step back and threw her hands out to the side, shaking them in a way that would have made a teenage Wyatt cringe with embarrassment.

“ Ultimate Chef champion! What an accomplishment! I’m dying to know everything.

” She grabbed his hand. “Come into the kitchen so you can tell Jim, too.”

He allowed himself to be led through the half-sized swinging doors and back through another door that separated the kitchen from the order counter, still a little in awe that he got to experience this part of life that most well-adjusted people took for granted.

His own mom had run off to Arizona to ‘find herself’ and ‘ live the life she’d always been meant to have’ when he’d been twelve.

He’d been young enough to wish she’d come back but old enough to know that it probably wouldn’t happen.

And he couldn’t even blame her, given that no one in their house wanted to live the life that they were living.

She’d just been the one to do something about it, deciding that the life she’d always been meant to have, unfortunately, didn’t include Cam.

He’d learned not to miss his mom, but it had meant he’d been left alone with his father. The only consolation was that Gary Devers was away for long periods at a time on the water as a fisherman. It was the best place for him to be, as far as Cam was concerned.

When Wyatt had invited him over after school one day, everything was different from that moment on. It was like a giant line had been drawn through his life, and he owed the Pierces for being able to stand on the other side of it today. It wasn’t something he took lightly.

“Jim,” Mrs. Pierce said as they reached the kitchen, bursting with so much energy that she’d turned Cam’s hand white from squeezing it so hard. “Cam’s home.”

Mr. Pierce had the same larger build as Wyatt, though he seemed a little thinner than Cam remembered. And it was more noticeable when he roped Cam into a crushing hug, just as Mrs. Pierce had done.

Over the next thirty minutes, while Mr. Pierce continued to prep and Cam joined him, he regaled them with everything he was legally allowed to share about the cooking show that wouldn’t violate his NDA.

And a few things that did violate it. He’d never been great at playing by the rules–especially if they were stupid.

By the time he was done, Mrs. Pierce was looking at him like he’d hung the moon.

“They labeled you as the bad boy of the season,” she teased, shooting Mr. Pierce a look that made it clear she’d found the commentary ridiculous.

She had always looked at Cam as a lovable teddy bear, no matter how many black eyes he showed up to their restaurant with, reinforced when she turned back to Cam to explain, “because you always had a scowl on your face when you were cooking and you weren’t as friendly on camera with the other contestants. Did you watch the episodes?”

“Living it was enough,” Cam said diplomatically, scratching along his five o’clock shadow that he hadn’t bothered shaving this morning.

There was no point in delving into what bootlickers most of the other contestants had been, treating the show as a networking opportunity more than anything else.

If they wanted to waste their lives socializing, then that was none of his business.

She peeked through the open window to make sure that no customers had come in. “Think you have a future as a competition chef? Become a regular fixture on tv?”

Cam blanched. “Not even a chance. I think it’s clear that my skills don’t extend to television personality.” And he had no desire to live the rest of his life on display, pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

“Good. We wouldn’t want to lose you to Los Angeles.” Her smile, one of genuine affection, made it so easy to believe her.

“Are you going to be in town for the weekend? How long do we get you for?” Mr. Pierce asked. He’d finished his current prep work and had moved over to one of the large vats on an industrial burner, stirring the clam chowder that had been simmering.

Cam scratched the back of his neck and squinted, thinking through it in his mind. He didn’t want to outright lie to them, but he also didn’t want them worried. “I’m not exactly sure. I decided to take a little time off.”

“You deserve it,” Mrs. Pierce said immediately. “Are you staying at Wyatt’s while he’s away?”

“Yeah. I just got in last night.” He made no mention of his unexpected roommate who, interestingly, seemed to be flying under the radar.

Elle could think what she wanted about him, but he’d never be a narc.