She’d just have to picture it in her imagination, savoring every delicious moment.
Unfortunately, that involved the image of a naked Ethan, which was regrettable. His forearms were temptation enough without throwing in a bare chest and muscular ass.
Also, regrettable in an entirely different way—a naked Old Crow. He always dumped his clothes outside in the hallway, in a garbage bag that he would then haul either to the dump or to the laundromat, depending on how disgustingly fishy they were.
No doubt, Ethan was currently experiencing a genuinely authentic Lost Harbor experience.
He’d mentioned sightseeing, after all. Well, he was definitely getting an eyeful.
Giggling to herself, she holed up in the tiny back office to run the day’s accounting. A good day, overall. The summer was their busiest time, and this promised to be one of their best summers ever.
Her mood dimmed when she caught sight of that damn certified letter that had arrived from her mother. She couldn’t put off reading it forever.
Big news, Japonica! Prince Cruise Lines is ready to make an offer for the bakery. Can you believe it??? Location, location, location. Of course they want to tear it down and start from scratch, but the place is falling apart anyway. This is it, sweetie!!! We could both walk away with a huge check. Huge!!! We’re sending this certified because you keep ignoring our calls and emails.
Gary had also scrawled a note. Need a decision ASAP. Exciting opportunity. We could use the funds. So can you. Listen to your mother on this one. Don’t be foolish.
“Of course I need the funds, Gary,” she told the letter—out loud, because why not. “And I’ll be foolish if I want to.”
Why had Mom even hooked up with Gary Phelps? They were complete opposites. Gary was a taciturn businessman who liked to hunt in his spare time. Her mother was a flower-child free spirit who’d only settled in Lost Harbor because she’d gotten pregnant with Jessica.
Stability had never been Destiny Dixon’s strong point. Instead of taking her from place to place, her mother’s restlessness sent her from boyfriend to boyfriend. She’d finally married one of them—Jessica’s least favorite, unfortunately. Gary had had his eye on Sweet Harbor Bakery from the very beginning.
But Jessica had been running the place ever since she was eighteen and Destiny had left for a retreat in Big Sur. Following the advice of Maya’s father, Harris, who was virtually her second father, she’d gotten her mother to sign over part ownership of Sweet Harbor. Any sale would have to be agreed to by both of them.
At least, that was her interpretation of the “contract,” which was written on a sheet of expensive watercolor paper. Jessica had added flowers and butterflies to it to match the menu chalkboard. She assumed it was legally binding, or else Gary wouldn’t be pushing for her signature.
But she hadn’t yet consulted with a lawyer. She’d been hoping the whole thing would go away. Selling Sweet Harbor felt like such an impossible decision. She’d been here literally her entire life. It was her home, her work, her nest, her cocoon, her comfort zone, her haven.
What would Harris Badger do? He always gave good advice. He’d probably say talk to a lawyer.
She picked up her phone and dialed her friend Kate Robinson’s number. Kate was a lawyer who had recently moved back to Lost Harbor and fallen in love with Darius Boone, the so-called “hottie fire chief.” Right now she was wrapped up in the peony harvest at her grandmother’s farm, so Jessica hated to bother her.
She got Kate’s voicemail, of course. She was probably out snipping stems in the peony fields. “Hi Kate, it’s Jess, can you call me when you get a chance? It’s a legal-ish thing, so if I have to make an official appointment just let me know. And if you want to wait until the harvest is over—“
Her phone beeped as another call came in—this one from Maya.
“Gotta go, the police chief’s calling. I just love saying that. Hey, we should all hang out soon. Call me!”
She switched over to the other line. “Hey Maya. I was just leaving a message for—“
“Dad’s in the hospital.”
She froze. Not Harris. Town icon, retired Coast Guard, beloved father figure.
Finally she found her voice. “What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. I just got the call.” Maya barely sounded like herself. All her usual calm was gone, replaced by freaked-out panic. “I’m headed there now. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“I can’t reach Ethan James and I have a meeting with him. Can’t even leave a message on his phone. Can you let him know I can’t make it?”
“That’s it? What else? There’s got to be something else—“
“Yeah … I don’t know, I can’t think right now.” The sound of a horn honking interrupted her.
Jessica imagined her swerving across Lost Harbor’s only two-lane street and running one of the two stoplights in town.
“You go, Maya. Get off the phone and take care of your dad.”
‘Thanks Jess. Get out of the way!” She was yelling as Jessica ended the call.
Jessica sent a quick blessing to both Maya and Harris. She held the image of the gentle man in her heart as she did so. Harris was so many things—a wonderful fiddle player, a knitter, a kind father, a man who’d raised his daughter alone after his wife left them. He’d always made room for Jessica at their home. With her mother’s constant chaos, with boyfriends and projects coming and going, the Badger household had always been a safe haven. And now he was in the hospital and Maya sounded terrified.
She ran out of the office and dashed up the stairs to Ethan’s room, where she knocked for a full minute before he answered.
He did so bare-chested, with a towel knotted around his hips and a bemused expression on his face.
She peered at him. “Is that a bruise on your cheekbone?”
“Yes, because apparently you can’t have a hot shower in this town without wrestling an angry fisherman for it.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. The news about Harris Badger had made her completely forget about the prank she’d pulled on Ethan. “Are you okay?”
“Oh sure. We made up. Even got invited to the Olde Salt for happy hour.”
Whew. At least she hadn’t caused a catastrophe with her silly prank. “You should totally go. You’ll hear some crazy stories with that crew.”
“I have a few stories to tell myself. Like the time someone gave Old Crow’s shower away to some out-of-town stranger.”
She folded her lips together, wondering if he saw any humor in the situation at all. “He must have been in quite a mood. He’s not always like that. Is, uh, is he okay?”
“If you don’t count the fishhook scar in his gut. Or the old knife wound on his neck, or the broken rib that never healed right. I got to see those for myself. But he has no new wounds. I can’t vouch for the state of his liver. Probably not good. Won’t keep him from the Olde Salt, of course.”
She let out a breath of relief. Her intention had been to engineer a lighthearted mistaken crossing of the paths in the bathroom, not a High Noon showdown. “I’m glad you two worked it out. He’s a good person, once you get past his crusty exterior.”
“You mean the ‘crusty’ part literally, I assume. Because I can confirm.”
She shuddered lightly. “I sincerely apologize.” She wondered if there was anything she could do to disable his access to Yelp or TripAdvisor. “How about a free breakfast, on the house?”
“Isn’t that included with the voucher?”
Right. Darn, she’d really screwed up with her petty desire for revenge. “Yes. It is. Well, I’m sure we can find a way to make it up to you. Perhaps a guided beach tour or a fresh salmon. Anyway, I’m actually here with a message from Maya. She’s been trying to reach you. She has to cancel your meeting tonight.”
His smile dropped. “What happened?”
“That’s for her to say. I’m just the messenger here.”
&n
bsp; He groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Why is nothing going right with this trip?”
“I don’t know, but this does free you up for happy hour at the Olde Salt. Tell Toni that your drinks are on me.” Toni, the bartender, was another of her good friends. They traded drinks for muffins on a regular basis.
“That’s nice, but I don’t drink.”
A private investigator who didn’t drink? That sounded unlikely, unless…
“Ahh,” she said. “I understand. We do have meetings here in Lost Harbor. I can direct you to—“
“I’m not an alcoholic.” With an irritated look, he adjusted the towel around his hips. “Don’t your extra-intuitive super senses tell you that?”
It was getting harder to keep her gaze on his face instead of his bare chest. She needed to get out of here—to get to the hospital and lend whatever support she could to Maya. Why was she lingering here with this grouchy bear of a customer?
“You know, they do actually, but I’m a little distracted.” She realized that she’d just confessed to staring at his chest. “Not by your…you…that…” She waved at his bare torso. “It’s not that, it’s Maya. So uh, have a fun night and I’ll eat you for breakfast…see you for breakfast tomorrow.” Sweet goddess, this was spiraling out of control. “Bye.”
She whirled around and fled for the staircase before she could embarrass herself any further.
Chapter Seven
The Sweet Harbor Bakery didn’t serve food after the lunch rush, so Ethan chose one of the town’s burger joints for dinner. The Burger Queen was mostly a drive-through, but it had a few picnic tables set up on a grassy knoll outside. If you could ignore the faint stench rising from the nearby mudflats at low tide, it was even scenic.
But Ethan wasn’t there for sightseeing. The Burger Queen was S.G.’s favorite place to eat. Maya had noted that she loved cheeseburgers, perhaps because she’d never tasted such a thing before coming to Lost Harbor. He saw no reason to bring his investigation to a stop just because Maya had had to cancel their meeting. He’d flown all the way up here, might as well start poking around.
He’d already finished reading Maya’s notes, and now he really wanted to meet Spruce Grouse for himself. Maybe even interview her.
To give himself the best chance of success, he’d stopped at the Lost Harbor firehouse on his way and invited Darius Boone and Nate Prudhoe to join him. He knew both of the firefighters from his previous trips to Lost Harbor, and they both knew S.G. well.
Perfect chance to glean more information over some greasy hamburgers with a view of mud.
With a bag full of extra cheeseburgers and fries, he settled onto one of the picnic table benches outside the Burger Queen. A black bird landed on the grass about ten yards from the table. Raven? Crow? He didn’t know much about birds, or wildlife in general, other than the mountain lions and coyotes who sometimes showed up in the hills of Los Angeles.
The bird cocked a beady eye his way and gave a croak. “That sounds ominous,” he told it. “If that’s some kind of dire warning, don’t bother. I already nearly died before I came here.”
He picked off a bit of his bun and tossed it to the bird. “But if you’re just hangry, I got you.”
“You must be new here.” Darius Boone slid his big body onto the bench on the other side of the picnic table. He wore his regular clothes and a black cowboy hat, so he must be off the clock at the fire department. “The ravens will always outsmart you.”
“Should I be insulted?”
“Nothing personal. They’re just damn intelligent birds, that’s all. I saw a raven figure out how to get a solar streetlight to go on so he could warm himself up. He covered the light sensor with his wing.”
Ethan waved at Nate Prudhoe, who was striding across the grass holding a takeout bag. With his easy smile and playful manner, Nate was the first person Ethan had gotten to know in Lost Harbor on his first visit. Nate was close friends with Padric Jeffers, the rock star who was the cause of Ethan’s original trip to Lost Harbor. On his second trip, he’d been sent to find Kate Robinson, who was now Darius’ girlfriend.
That was small towns for you. Everyone was connected.
He stood up to grasp forearms with the firefighter. “Good to see you, man. Thanks for coming.”
Nate grinned at him. “I knew you’d be back. What’s this, your third trip? One more and we’ll have to make you a resident.”
“Don’t worry, this is it for me. This is the famous ‘one last job.’ After I crack this case, I’ll be a boring old married man whose biggest risk is ordering sushi from a food cart.”
Darius put down his burger, eyebrows lifted. “You’re quitting? Big news.”
Ethan shrugged. “My fiancée doesn’t want me getting into so much trouble. I have some ideas for apps I’m working on. I originally got into the PI game doing computer-based research for my sister, so I have the background.”
“Congrats, dude. On all of it.” Nate dipped a French fry in ketchup. “So what do you need from us? Maya gave us the heads up that you might want to ask us some questions.”
“Actually I think I got what I need from her notes. The real missing piece is the girl herself. It’d be helpful if I could talk to S.G, but according to Maya that might be a problem.”
Darius squinted at him from under the brim of his cowboy hat. “How so?”
“Maya said it can take her a while to warm up to new people. But she trusts both of you. I’m hoping that if you can vouch for me, she’ll talk to me.”
Nate nodded thoughtfully as he chewed his french fry. “You picked the right spot. That’s how I earned her trust at first. I kept bringing her cheeseburgers until she stopped threatening to stab me again.”
Ethan patted the bag next to him on the table. “I stocked up just in case. I heard she comes here just about every day.”
Darius laughed. “Sounds like you have it all figured out. What do you need us for?”
“Nothing has gone right with this job.” Ethan grinned at the two of them. “Consider yourselves my insurance policy for the next disaster.”
The two firefighters exchanged an amused glance. “Have you heard the saying ‘strange things happen around Lost Souls Wilderness?’ You might be getting a taste of that,” Darius told him. “I didn’t believe it when I first moved here, but I sure as hell do now.”
“I never doubted it,” said Nate. “The best part is, ‘strange’ doesn’t mean bad. Just…odd. Unexplainable.”
Ethan ate a few French fries while he let that word “unexplainable” sink in.
It made him think of Jessica, of course, and her belief in intuition. But it also reminded him that he himself had experienced something unexplainable. The image of the meadow and the golden grasses flickered through his mind. He had no explanation for that…vision. Delusion. Whatever you wanted to call it.
But maybe someone with more knowledge would. Everything was explainable if you knew all the facts.
“I’m a stick-to-the-facts kind of guy,” he said lightly. “That’s what’s worked for me so far.”
“Fair enough. Hey, where are you staying?” Nate asked him. “We have extra space up on the hilltop. Bethany’s taking some time off to get our wedding squared away. It’d be great to have company.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped at the mention of preparing for a wedding. The argument with Charley still bothered him. They always seemed to be talking past each other and he had no idea how to fix it.
“Maya gave me a voucher for Sweet Harbor. I’m staying in one of those rooms above the bakery.”
“Then you scored yourself a sweet situation,” Nate told him. “Jessica Dixon will take good care of you.”
Ethan snorted with such force that he nearly inhaled a scrap of his bun. “I guess that’s one way to put it. Just promise me that most of her guests survive. That’s all I ask.”
Darius lifted his eyebrows, while Nate frowned at him in confusion.
“What are you talkin
g about?” Nate asked. “Sweet Harbor has a five-star rating everywhere. Jessica’s famous for her hospitality, not to mention her cinnamon rolls. Most of her guests fall madly in love with the place and never want to leave. Some of them fall madly in love with her, but she’ll never leave Lost Harbor.”
Ethan had no idea how to respond to that, except to mumble something about “getting off on the wrong foot.”
But it didn’t matter anyway, because just then a teenage girl skipped across the grass from the drive-through line to the table. “Hi Darius, hi Nate. Do you have any extra cheeseburgers?” she asked. “I forgot my money.”
It had to be S.G. She fit the description perfectly—blond hair in a braid, pale gray eyes, extremely blunt and direct approach to things like food. She wore a pair of overalls over a yellow t-shirt, along with muddy Converse sneakers.
Darius tipped his hat back, smiled at her, and gestured at Ethan. “I think my friend there does. S.G., this is Ethan. Ethan, meet S.G.”
The girl barely glanced at him before homing in on the greasy paper bag at his elbow. “You have extra?”
“I do. Help yourself.”
She opened the bag and peered inside. She sniffed a few times, big inhales of air through her nostrils. Then she fixed him with a revolted frown. “These aren’t cheeseburgers. That’s fish.”
“Really?” He took the bag back from her and smelled for himself. Damnit, she was right, and the only reason he hadn’t noticed before was that the French fry smell had drowned out the scent of fish. “Sorry about that. They must have given me the wrong order. Any chance you like fish?”
“I hate fish. Too slimy.” She turned her focus to Nate. “Did you get an extra burger?”
“Not today, kid. I can share my fries though.”
She barely waited for him to offer the fries before she took a handful. Ethan recognized the behavior; he figured it was the result of “food insecurity”—the uncertainty about where your next meal was coming from. Even though S.G. had plenty of food now, she probably still remembered what it felt like not to.
Love at First Light (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 6) Page 5
