Luke gripped the polished oak balustrade lining the balcony. Despite his assurances to his friend and sister, he felt the twinges of a freak-out starting. “What else aren’t you two telling me?”

“They’re not here to do a story.”

“But Jay just said—”

“They’re here to be the story.”

“Huh?” Luke wasn’t being passive-aggressive about word choice this time. He really didn’t understand what his sister was saying.

“Let me try, Pen.” Vijay stepped between them. “What your sister means is the ‘Take Me!’ reporter isn’t stopping by for a quick interview. They’re staying for the week and are going to be part of the game.”

“Ah.” Luke swallowed.

“Are you freaking out now?” Penelope prodded.

“Maybe.” Luke shoved a hand through his hair. “How long have you known about this?”

“Um, a week,” Penelope said.

“More like two,” Jay admitted sheepishly.

Not this round. Any other round but this one. This first week, he wanted to keep things controlled. Luke pulled his notebook out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Is he pulling out the notebook?” Vijay asked.

“He’s pulling out the notebook,” Penelope confirmed with a sigh.

Luke ignored them. Both his sister and his best friend liked to tease him about his ever-present notebook. Vijay said it was Luke’s version of a pocket protector, while Penelope insisted it was a security blanket.

They could make fun of him all they wanted. He liked—no, needed—to have a place to write his thoughts down.

“I’m going to take a walk,” Luke announced. Heading for the door to the terrace, he paused and glanced back at his sister. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“I’m twenty-three, not three,” Penelope reminded him. “When are you going to trust me to handle things?”

“I do trust you, Pen,” Luke protested, but even he heard the lack of conviction in his voice. “I just wish you’d be a little less … impulsive.”

“And I wish you were a little less controlling.” She shooed him off. “Go. Make your lists. But don’t take too long.”

Luke nodded and slipped out the door, hurrying across the terrace and down the stone stairway that led to the beach. He needed some air, a few minutes to breathe, to think. To prepare. At the bottom of the steps, he took the path toward the lake, the sound of crashing waves acting as a salve for his jangled thoughts. After a couple of calming moments, he flipped open his notebook and started a checklist of things he wanted to go over.

They should have told him about the reviewer before. Weatherfork should have told him as soon as she’d arranged it. If his boss had any hope of this project being a success, she needed to give him time to prepare. It was bad enough she’d forced the grand opening.