by Natalie Ann
Skating on Thin Ice
“Jacquie Biggar has done it again. I have yet another new book boyfriend—Mac Wanowski, captain of the Victoria WarHawks hockey team.” ~ Writester
Chapter One
Mayor Trace Michaels glanced out of the floatplane’s narrow window at the ribbon of rocky, evergreen-covered islands threading through the Pacific Ocean. Still a way to go before they reached Blue Haven Island. He frowned over the reports on his laptop. The new tax base he’d lobbied the board for was hurting Sweetheart Cove financially. The local economy counted on a combination of the logging industry and tourism, both of which were suffering under the current provincial government’s agendas. He needed a new plan of action, and soon, or he’d be marketing his hometown as a ghost town.
Troy glanced over his shoulder from the pilot’s seat. “Was this a business or pleasure trip, Mr. Michaels? You don’t get away from the island all that often, do you?”
Why leave when everyone he cared about was on Blue Haven? He avoided answering the well-meaning pilot’s question with one of his own. “How’s that lovely daughter of yours, Troy? Betsy still away at college?”
The other man nodded and tapped his dash. “Yes, sir. This old girl, Betsy Boop, is paying her way through a business major. Maybe she could get a job with the town when she’s done?” He cleared his throat. “Be great if she didn’t get it in her head to leave the island for good, you know?”
Yeah, Trace understood exactly where he was coming from. His own daughter was making noises about traveling abroad, and it worried him sick.
“Tell her to get in touch with me when she finishes her courses and we’ll figure something out,” he told Troy. “We single fathers need to stick together.” He smiled and lowered his head, focusing on the depressing numbers in the spreadsheet. They needed something to hook tourists and bring them flocking to the island, but what?
His ex-wife had opened a new health spa on a stretch of prime beach property amid demonstrations from the townspeople. He hadn’t agreed with her methods, but the concept was a good one—they just needed to build on the idea. Environmentally conscious, exclusive vacations—could that be the answer?
“There she is, Mr. Michaels, home sweet home.” Troy banked left and flew over the lower tip of Blue Haven’s heart-shaped coastline. The town came next, huddled in the bosom of rolling hills that protected the small community from the worst of nature’s wrath. The plane nosed downward, angling for the long wooden dock jutting into the harbor.
His cell phone jingled a tune to Bailey’s favorite boy band, The Jonas Brothers. He grimaced and jabbed the button, ending the noise. “I thought I asked you not to play with my ringer.” He’d born the teasing because of his daughter’s music choices all too often in the past, but at least they’d had the same taste in music. Now though… not so much.
“Is that how you always answer the phone? I thought I taught you better manners,” his smart-alecky daughter answered.
Touché.
Trace closed his laptop and sighed. Why did they always butt heads? “Let’s try this again; hello, Bailey, to what do I owe this call?”
“Da… ad.” She sighed right back. “You know I hate when you call me that. Who names their kid after a liquor, anyway?” She didn’t wait for his reply, no doubt because she’d heard it a thousand times. “Can I spend the night at Amber’s? We want to go over details for my birthday party—sixteen is kind of a big deal. I want it to be perfect.”
Sixteen. Where had his baby girl gone? A collage of bittersweet memories played out in his head. Sally never wanted responsibility for a child and had turned Bailey’s custody over without a fuss. It was one of the only times he could remember having a moment’s affection for his wife.
“Dad, did you hear me?” Bailey said with all the impatience of a teenager.
“Sorry, I was remembering when you were a cute, respectful child,” he muttered. “Yes, you can stay with Amber—as long as you cleared it with her mother first. No more surprise visits, got it?” Mona had reamed him out the last time the two girls pulled that prank, blaming him for not being there for his kid.
“Great,” Bailey chortled, all happified now she was getting her way. “Wait until you see what we have planned—it’s going to be epic! Okay, Dad, see you Sunday. Bye.” And click, she was gone.
Sunday? Who said anything about Sunday? Last time he checked, spending the night meant one day, as in twenty-four hours, not a mini vacation. Trace started to dial her back, then closed down his phone instead. Time enough tomorrow to end her tête-à-tête with Amber. The two girls didn’t get to spend a lot of time together, considering Amber was a year and a half older and a senior in the high school. Funny how fate had stepped in and made them best friends considering...
“Looks like I have a welcoming committee,” Troy said, pointing at the woman standing on the shore. “She must really need these supplies.”
Trace glanced behind him at the crates of fresh produce and then at the curvy brunette waiting below. His stomach flipped and it had nothing to do with Troy’s flying aptitude.
Mona.
***
Mona sighed her relief when the Betsy Boop showed up on the horizon. Troy was about as reliable as they came, but she’d still been worried about her cargo. The diner was low on a number of items, thanks to the recent storms. That was the problem with living on an island, you had to count on the weather in order to survive. The ferries had canceled most of their runs for the week due to rough seas. She’d been lucky to get this short pocket in the weather systems so Troy could do a run for her. Funny thing about bad weather; it was great for business.
The plane circled above Sweetheart Cove a couple of times before coming in for a smooth splashdown on the moody blue-gray water. As she bundled up for her walk down the dock, the door opened, and the grizzled pilot stepped out to secure the moorings. Mona raised her hand in a wave, but Troy had already turned back to the plane and lifted out a dark blue suitcase ahead of another man’s descent.
Curious, Mona slowed her pace, allowing the new arrival to get his bearings on semi-solid ground. That is, until she realized who had just arrived with her produce—Trace Michaels.
Dammit, it was too late to beat a hasty retreat. She was going to have to buck up and act the responsible businesswoman she’d become, instead of the rebellious teenager who’d had her heart broken thanks to this man.
Troy noticed her first. “Made good time, today. Were you waiting long?”
She smiled at the pilot; aware Trace had stiffened at her appearance. “Not more than five minutes. I owe you a big piece of pie for this, Troy. You saved me from a whole lot of unhappy customers.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that.” Troy grinned, good-naturedly. “Sweet Treats is packed anytime I come to town. I’ll need to start phoning for a reservation, soon.”
Mona laughed. “You come around back to the kitchen and I’ll find you a seat. We’d be lost without you,” she added, and was pleased to see him blush.
He glanced from her to Trace, seeming to pick up on the icy undercurrents. “Well, I’d best get this stock unloaded so you can go about your day.” He shook Trace’s hand. “Thanks again, Mr. Michaels. I’ll tell my Betsy to give you a call.”
“You do that.” Trace clapped the man on the back and picked up his suitcase to stride toward Mona. “Hi,” he said quietly, coming to a stop way too close for comfort.
Even as she took a step back, needing to maintain a physical, as well as mental, distance between them, she couldn’t help falling into those eyes. They said the eyes were the window to a person’s soul and she’d always believed it until Trace betrayed her and yet denied it the entire time. His electric blue eyes, so startling with dark hair, had convinced her he was telling the truth when it had been nothing but lies. But hey, that was eighteen years ago—she’d gotten over him.
Yeah, right.
“Spending the taxpayer’s dime on private vacations, Trace? I’m
sure it will go over big with your constituency.” Not that they would care, he had half the town in love with him. And how did he manage to get better looking the more he aged, while she… didn’t?
“Still packing that chip on your shoulder, I see,” he murmured with a slight smile. “Actually, I was on a business trip sanctioned by the board—sorry to disappoint.” He glanced over his shoulder as Troy unloaded the first of the heavy crates. “Do you need a hand getting your stock to a vehicle? I assume you brought something larger than that toy car you like to drive?”
He knew what she drove? Well, of course he did. It wasn’t like they lived in a huge metropolis. Sweetheart Cove boasted a healthy population of seven thousand which swelled to double the size in the tourist season—or at least, it had.
“I borrowed Jacob’s truck, and no thanks. I have someone coming to help me. As a matter of fact, there he is now.” She heaved a silent sigh of gratitude as Jason pulled up on his motorbike, the engine giving a throaty growl before he shut it down.
“New boyfriend?” Trace asked, his smile fading.
“New… something,” Mona agreed with a brief flare of satisfaction. He may have moved on from their relationship, but there were still dark waters under the bridge. “Amber mentioned Bailey was spending the night; are you good with that?” She may harbor complicated emotions for her father, but Bailey was a joy to be around. Someday she would have to sit the girls down and have a serious conversation with them. She just hoped they wouldn’t hate her after the truth came out.
“Of course, though I think they’re planning on the weekend. I’ll call Bailey in the morning and tell her to come home.” Trace glanced at the expensive-looking watch on his wrist. “If you’re good here, I better take off. I still have a few hours of paperwork ahead of me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion darkening his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Mona.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling the masculine citrus and pine scent of his body as he brushed by her on the narrow dock. In all the years they’d been apart, her heart still recognized him. It was both thrilling and painful.
She crossed her arms as Jason joined her after a barely-there nod from Trace before he disappeared over the rise. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” he said, his gaze sharpening on her face. “Was that guy giving you grief? I could—”
Mona shook her head and dropped her arms. “No, it’s fine. He’s the father of one of my daughter’s friends—we were just talking.” She steered the conversation away from personal matters. “So, you ready to haul my groceries?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“Huh, was getting paid part of our agreement? I thought you were my apprentice.” She laughed at his expression. “I’m kidding. Okay, let’s get this stuff out of the sun, it cost me an arm and a leg.”
She couldn’t resist one last forbidden look at the shoreline, hoping to catch sight of Trace—but he was gone.
Chapter Two
Bailey sat still, though her insides quivered with suppressed excitement. “Are you done yet? I’m going crazy waiting to see it.” It referring to the new color and cut Amber was doing to her hair. She was excited and scared. Excited to see if it made her look older and scared because sooner or later her dad was going to find out and he was going to totally freak.
“Don’t move,” Amber warned, her scissors snip-snipping Bailey’s bangs. “Al… most there.” She leaned back, teeth nibbling at her lower lip as she concentrated. “Just a little more…”
Clip.
Clip.
Then came the brush and blow-dry and finally, finally they were done. Amber unclipped the black garbage bag they’d used as a cape and Bailey stood, suddenly frightened to look. What if she’d made a mistake? Her head felt so light. She touched the back of her neck and soft strands tickled her fingers, the long hair she’d worn for most of her life gone. For a second, she regretted the impulsive decision to change her looks, but then she thought of Billy Kennedy and how much she wanted him to notice her as something other than The Geek and knew she didn’t have a choice. Desperate times, and all that.
“Well, are you going to take a look?” Amber said, grinning like a loon. She grasped Bailey’s shoulders and spun her to face the large bevel mirror in her mother’s bedroom. “You’re gorgeous!”
Bailey’s mouth fell open. Instead of a long, mousy brown mop, her hair was short and… glowing. “It’s like a moonbeam,” she whispered. The heavy bangs had been replaced with delicate wisps in a variety of lengths that somehow transformed plain blue eyes into deep, mysterious pools of cobalt. She turned her head and gasped at the streak of cotton candy pink flirting with her ear. “You did it.” Tears welled and she brushed them away, unwilling to miss a second of this transformation. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about you like it, for a start?” Amber rested her chin on Bailey’s shoulder. “Is it too much?” she asked, worry entering her expressive eyes.
Bailey swung around and impulsively hugged her friend. “Amber Samuels, you’re a genius. It’s perfect.” Overcome, she twirled out of Amber’s arms and danced around the room. “I feel like a new person,” she crowed.
Amber flopped onto her mom’s bed and sighed. “I am rather gifted, aren’t I?” She grinned. “Billy won’t be able to take his eyes off you now.”
Bailey’s pulse leapt. She quit twirling to stare at Amber. “Do you really think so?” She’d never felt like this for a boy before—all jittery and tongue-tied. She could sense him the moment he walked into a room. And he sat right behind her at school.
Amber sat up and nodded. “You should invite him to your birthday bash.”
Could she? Her palms turned sweaty just thinking about it. “I don’t know…”
“I do,” Amber said. “You didn’t risk your father’s wrath just to give up now. Come on, Bee, you’ve gotta try.”
A door closed somewhere in the house and Bailey’s stomach tumbled. “Your mom is home. We better get out of here.” She grabbed the garbage bag and frantically tried to corral the pile of hair lying on the floor.
“Don’t worry, Mom’s cool.” Amber went to the doorway and yelled. “We’re up here. Come and see what we’ve been up to.”
Bailey found a broom from somewhere and efficiently swept the mess into a dustpan and disposed of it into a trash can under the desk just as Amber’s mom appeared.
“What are you two doing in here?” She said, then stumbled to a stop. “Oh, my word.” Her hands clasped her cheeks. “Bailey?”
Bailey gripped the broom handle and wished she could fly out the window. “Yes, ma’am, it’s me.”
“You look just like your mother,” she whispered, reaching out to brush a curl behind her ear. “So pretty.”
Amber winked and mouthed, “Told you.” Aloud, she said, “Hope it was okay to use your room, Mom. You have the biggest mirror.”
“Hmm?” Mona murmured, her fingers busy tweaking Bailey’s hair. “Of course. As long as you clean up after yourself. Did you talk to your father before getting this done, young lady?” She gave a strand a tug.
Bailey wished she was better at fibbing. “No, but to be fair, I am almost sixteen.”
Mona sighed and took her daughter’s seat on the bed. “Honey, you need to call him. It’s better if he hears about it from you, instead of someone else.” She rubbed her shoulder and grimaced.
Amber frowned. “Overdoing it again, Mom? I thought that’s why you hired the new guy?”
Bailey stared at her friend, unused to hearing that tone from her.
“Jason did most of the work. What do you have against him? He’s been a tremendous help at the restaurant while I prepare for…” Mona glanced at Bailey and stopped, spiking her curiosity.
Her words made Amber scowl. “You may as well tell her, she’s going to find out anyway. And I don’t have anything against your cook, as long as he does his job.”
“Amber, we’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need a long, hot bath, so you girls will have to excuse me.” She rose and started toward the ensuite. “Bailey, call your dad.” She closed the door behind her and left an awkward silence in her wake.
Amber was the first to move. She gathered up her hair styling tools and headed toward the hallway. “Parents, aren’t they fun?”
Bailey trailed after her, wondering what Mona had been about to say, who Jason was, and if she was about to be grounded for life.
So much fun.
Chapter Three
Mona closed the door on the girls and leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. She’d almost let the cat out of the bag before she was ready. She wasn’t sure she’d even carry through with it—running against Trace for the mayor’s position—was she crazy?
No, she decided, pushing away to start the water running in her luxurious clawfoot bathtub. Someone had to step up to the plate and stand for the integrity of their town. If she was the only one brave enough to campaign against their incumbent mayor, so be it. Sweetheart Cove was her home and she liked it just the way it was. Trace had all these big—costly—ideas to turn the town into a mecca for tourism, which was all well and good, but the price tag would be more than monetary. Change inevitably brought crime, and she wasn’t willing to give up her security for a few dollars’ worth of income.
She set her phone on the bookstand beside the tub, peeled out of her clothes, and climbed in with a deep sigh. Even with her new cook’s help, she was beat. Carrying the stock up from the beach had killed her calves. She lifted the lid off her lavender bath beads and added them to the warm water. Inhaling the luxurious scent, she leaned against the curved backrest and let the bath soak her aches and pains away. She loved this sanctuary Jacob had created for her in the old farmhouse she’d purchased after the restaurant was paid for. Her brother was a talented carpenter whose reputation was growing. He deserved the recognition, he’d earned it. His design for the new health spa had even been featured in Home magazine.
