11. Noah

Dinner has gonefrom awkward to worse. I never should have brought up the ocean or that day I tried to save her life—unnecessarily—or her parents' deaths. What was I thinking? I wasn't, obviously. The problem with this meal is proximity. Cat, right next to me, sliding steak from a skewer and snacking on her corn salsa like she hasn't spent the last hour or so cooking dinner for me.

I pay her. She's just doing her job. But seeing her pull the skewers off the grill and take them to a nicely set table got my blood fired up. You don't have to be a good cook to be a good wife or mother. That goes without saying. But something about Cat being a good cook and a great hostess has me wanting to imagine that it's just a typical day and I'm just coming home to dinner, which is archaic and probably breaking some sort of feminism code or something.

I still like it. Honestly, I like her.

That crush that developed when we were teens and lay dormant for the last few years had been fed some sort of rejuvenation serum when I saw Cat on the beach. It is now thriving, alive and well. I feel like I'm sixteen and trying to gain the courage to say hi to her in the market, except she's at my kitchen table eating a meal she cooked for me.

I can't act on my crush anyway, because she works for me now and that's all sorts of wrong. She didn't cook dinner for me because she likes me. She cooked because I paid her to. I need to remember that. It's an important distinction.

Thank heavens Mateo is arriving. The house alarm chimes, letting us know someone is walking up to the front door, and I relax. We aren't alone anymore in our weird simulation of a date. Mateo opens the door and comes into the kitchen, looking frazzled.

"Please tell me you haven't eaten all the food. Gina worked me late, and I didn't have time to grab anything." He stops at the table and puts his things down, then reaches a hand across the table to Cat. "You must be Catalina. I'm Mateo."

"You can just call me Cat."

"Cat," Mateo repeats, shaking her hand, then pulling out his chair. "This looks divine."

"Let me heat the steak for you." Cat is on her feet before he can argue, taking the plate of skewers to the grill outside.

"Did you bring the updated projections?" I ask, needing a distraction so I don't keep watching her.

Cat returns to the kitchen and pours more ice water in our glasses.

"Yes." Mateo stops spooning the grilled corn salsa onto his plate and opens his bag, pulling out papers for me.

I flip through them, trying to note any financial differences, but really I'm just super aware of Cat leaning past me to take my plate and silverware. She's clearing the table now, and I want to help. I get up, taking her plate and carrying it to the sink.

She looks startled to find me beside her. "I'll take care of that. You finish your meeting."

"The meeting is for all three of us." Besides, there is something about her working that makes me want to jump in and help.

Cat looks up. "I'll do this later, then."

It's a compromise, at least.

She goes outside to retrieve the skewers, and I take my seat at the table again, trying to read Gina's updated numbers.

"When can Bree get out here?" Mateo asks. "Should I arrange her travel?"

"She has it taken care of." I slug the water, needing something to level me out. "I'm not sure when she'll come, but it should be soon."

Cat hovers with the plate of skewers behind her chair. "Your sister is coming?"

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"Not really." She sets down the plate and pushes it toward Mateo. "Only Bree? No one else?"

Cat is still standing next to her chair. Is she in fight or flight mode? This is new. I can tell whatever I'm about to say matters. "Just her, as far as I know."

I'm desperate for her to sit down.

"We'll need to bring in some men and a few more women for variety," I say, pretending Cat's hovering isn't driving me crazy. What is bothering her?

"What is this for?" she asks, finally sitting down.

"The ad campaign for the new app."

"You haven't done it yet?" Her blonde eyebrows rise. "Doesn't the app release soon?"

"Middle of July. We had ads running—we have for a while—but this is a fresh campaign that will launch with the app all over the states." I lean back in my seat so I can see her better. "Yeah, we're cutting it close. We were supposed to iron this out and have it finished last month, but?.?.?. things?.?.?. got in the way."

That's a delicate way to say I had a breakdown and everything at work was put on hold.

Mateo pulls out his iPad and fiddles on it before turning it around to face both of us. "Should we choose the models now?"

Cat leans forward. "This is something I can help with."

"Filming will be on the beach, so we want relaxed and down to earth," Mateo says, arranging the iPad case so it stands on the table. He flips to the first woman, a redhead with long frizzy hair and loads of freckles.

"Yes," Cat says. "She's gorgeous."

"They're all gorgeous," I remind her. "We need to choose people who fit the vibe."

"What's more vibe than frizzy hair on the beach?"

True. "Next?"

Mateo flips to a woman with long, sleek brown hair and a perfect smile.

"Next?" Cat asks.

Mateo flips again. And again, and again. After the first woman, Cat doesn't approve anyone else, but Mateo likes half of them.

We reach the men, and I put a hand up to stop him from going any further. "What's wrong with the models?"

Cat leans back in her chair, shrugging. Her mouth is closed tightly.

I look at Mateo, who doesn't seem to see the problem either.

"This is a safe space to share ideas and opinions, Cat."

She still doesn't speak.

Mateo looks at me, confused. Whatever Cat is thinking, she's alone in her opinion, but I want her to tell us. She's a regular consumer and that's valuable.

I lean back, watching her for a response. "From what I could tell, each of the models presented were standard, so I'm not sure I'm seeing what you are."

Cat scoffs. "Exactly."

I exchange a look with Mateo, but he's still just as lost as I am.

"They're all standard," Cat says, like this will make her point. When it doesn't, she makes a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Go back to the beginning and look at them again. Yes, they're beautiful. They're models. Is that who you're marketing to—people who look like this or want to date women who look like this? Because that last group will be disappointed when they're matched with someone on your app who doesn't look like a model. What about the regular women, Belacourt?" Women like me, she seems to say. "We aren't all tall, slender goddesses."

She's the most beautiful woman I've seen today, models included. "The redhead is still a model," I remind her. She approved that one.

"Yeah, but she's relatable. She has freckles and frizzy hair. If I was marketing a dating app, I would search for models with relatable traits. That's all I'm saying."

She makes a valid point. I want people to be enticed and intrigued enough to try my app, but I also want the follow-through to be satisfactory so they continue to use it and tell all their friends. Getting them to the app is only one step in the process. An important one, yeah, but it's not the whole story.

Why didn't I think about that when I was planning the campaign?

"We need to start over," I say.

Mateo balks, his skewer suspended midair. "Excuse me?"

"I get what Cat's saying. Our whole concept isn't going to give us the longevity and follow-through we want. It's just enticing."

"We don't want to entice people?" Mateo speaks slowly, like I've gone crazy and he's trying to subtly show me that.

I chuckle and lean back in my seat. "Of course we do. But we also want them to stick around long enough to use the app—repeatedly, if they need to."

"Expectations are part of that," Cat explains.

"So instead of couples looking Vogue, we can?—"

"We like Vogue," Mateo argues, welding his skewer. "It goes with our brand."

"We get to decide what our brand is. If we were trying to sell our app to Manhattan, then yeah, the models fit our vibe. But we want everyone using the app. Our whole schtick with the fact-checking is to keep it real." As I explain, the idea settles more firmly. Why didn't I think of this myself? It embodies the foundation for my software at its core. "We should be keeping it real."

Mateo looks between me and Cat. "So you don't want models?"

"We want models," I say. "They're trained. It'll make the shoot go smoothly if they know what they're doing. But we need different models."

"A variety of people," Cat says.

"Doing what real people do on the beach. Picnics and surfing."

"A bonfire with someone playing the guitar."

I catch her eye. "A group playing volleyball."

"A couple kissing in the surf," she says, looking away.

Mateo sits back in his seat and looks between us. "Okay, I get it now. I can visualize this. We're making a montage."

"A summery, beachy, romantic montage," I say.

"This will take more than one day of filming, I think," Mateo mutters, pulling his iPad back toward him so he can type up notes on everything we've gone over. He and his notes are incredible.

"Good thing Bree is helping us out. She won't cost more for the extra work." I take a drink of my water and glance at Cat, who is picking at the wicker placemat in front of her. "Mateo, if you'll nail down the photographer and everything, I'll work with Cat on finding the right models."

"You will?" she asks, sitting up. "We will?"

"If that's something you're amenable to."

She only hesitates a moment, but it's long enough to give me a smidgen of doubt. Am I treating her too much like an employee? She is one, obviously, but she has a say here. She needs to have a voice or our relationship will be strained for the rest of our lives. At some point, Cat won't be my PA anymore, and I don't want things to be weird then.

Cat pushes her blonde hair behind her shoulders, looking between me and Mateo. "I'm happy to help. I just don't have any marketing experience."

"I wouldn't call Keene BB's Instagram nothing."

Her face goes beet red, her cheeks mottling with a blush. "You've seen that?"

Mateo is already opening his phone, probably to check it out.

"Your followers aren't anything to scoff at," I say.

"Is Keene spelled?—"

"With an E," I tell him.

He nods, typing into his phone.

Cat's blue eyes go round. "My account is small beans compared to something like this. It's not a national ad campaign. We just keep it up for the regulars. They like to feel like they're part of a community here on the island."

"We want people to feel that way about Scoutr," Mateo says, scrolling through her Instagram profile. "I agree, Noah." He looks up, resigned. "I think this is the right direction for the campaign."

"But…?" I can sense it. I know it's coming.

"Gina," he says. He's right. She can be difficult, and right now she's stepped in as unofficial interim CEO while I get my head back on straight. But I'm still in charge, and it's still my company.

"I'll handle her. Just get everything confirmed so we have a campaign."

"It's mostly scheduled, but I'll nail down a second day of shooting. I think we're going to need it. Where should we put everyone?"

"The resort, if there are enough rooms." I don't look at Cat when I continue. "Keene BB is another local option."

She startles.

I shift my gaze to her. "Do you have space next week?"

"We're totally open," she says. "A family comes in on the 24th, but before that, we're free."

"Good. If we need more space, you can put people in our pool house."

"Gina?" Mateo asks.

"She'll want room service. You take the pool house, and we can order in if we need to."

"Done," Mateo says, typing again.

Cat gets up to clear the table, and I let her.

Mateo pushes his plate away and goes back to typing. "I'll have more model options to you by tomorrow."

"Great." I watch Cat stack dishes in the sink and open the dishwasher. "Will tomorrow work to go over models, Cat?"

She looks up, her blue eyes widening. "At the office?"

"Here," I say. "Anytime before noon, preferably."

She holds my eyes for a second and I find myself wondering which idiot rich guy she's going to use as my nickname today. It hasn't been lost on me that she's probably never used my first name. Is it a barrier she's putting between us? A wall to keep things professional?

No. I'm the one who has the crush and needs the constant reminders to keep things professional. Not her. She's just trying to save her house.

I bet it's proof there will always be a wall between us. I plan to enjoy this summer and any time I have to hang out with her, not worrying about it being anything more than it needs to be.

"That works for me," she says.

Inside, I soar. I get to hang out with Cat again tomorrow.