Tofino Storm

by Edie Claire

  “You don’t have to share anything with me that you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice mild. “But you should save yourself the effort of lying. You really are incredibly bad at it.”

  Laney laughed out loud, surprising herself. Nothing had changed with regard to her predicament. Yet she felt better. She treated herself to a lingering look at him. Could he really just want to be her friend?

  The thought sent her insides churning, till maddeningly, she was on the brink of tears again. Will somebody please just shoot me now? she raged, frustrated. Never before in her life had she been so unable to control her emotions!

  But yes, dear God, did she ever need a friend. She did have friends already, good friends. Several of her fellow grad students in Norman, as well as college friends from Cape Girardeau and Columbia in Missouri. But over the last horrible months, she had neglected all of them. She’d deleted her social media accounts after college, she was never a big texter, and while she was ordinarily good with Christmas check-ins, she’d made no effort whatsoever this year. None of her friends even knew that her mother had died, much less everything else that had happened, and the thought of trying to bring any of them up to date now — over the phone, no less! — was as guilt-inducing as it was daunting. It was all her fault, not theirs. Either way, none of them were here now.

  But Jason was. “I’d like to be your friend, Laney,” he suggested softly.

  A song played in her mind. It was a television theme song, from her Gran’s favorite program. It was ancient, but one of the networks played reruns every night from nine to ten, and Gran had watched them religiously, over and over. Laney had absorbed enough episodes in the last year to recite half the dialogue herself. Four retired women, all living together companionably in a pastel-laden house in sunny Florida. The Golden Girls.

  Thank you for being a friend…

  Everybody needed somebody. And whether it hurt her pride or not, she needed Jason. It would be easier if he were fat and bald, but hey — she would manage.

  “I’d like that too,” she answered. Her voice sounded surprisingly bright. Or maybe not so surprising, since she really was feeling better.

  He smiled back. “Cool! So if we’re officially friends, can I put a nonthreatening arm around you? You look cold.”

  “Please!” she laughed, scooting over and cuddling in. “Thank God, I thought you’d never ask. I’m freezing my butt off over here.”

  She felt his deep laughter rumble through his chest as he rubbed her upper arm briskly for a moment, then held her tight. “So I noticed. Didn’t want to get my face slapped, though.”

  Laney wasn’t sure why he would say that. But the sunset was beautiful, this gorgeous hunk of a man was now officially her friend, and having his strong arm around her shoulders was exquisitely, amazingly comfortable. For now, it was all she could ask for.

  ***

  Jason’s heart beat entirely too fast as he cradled the still-shivering Laney to his side. Given that her puffy winter coat was overkill for the weather, he suspected that her trembling came more from frayed nerves than cold temperatures. Either way, a friendly hug was in order. He just hoped she warmed up soon. Because her proximity was warming him up a little more than desired.

  At least the air had been cleared. They were friends and only friends, and that was good. He’d never had a meteorologist friend, and he was greatly looking forward to it. She would make one incredible surfer someday, too. If the friend thing worked, he might even be around to see it happen.

  He would like that. He would like that very much.

  Damn, his jacket was stifling.

  “So tell me,” he began, distracting himself. “What do you have against rich people, anyway? You’re an American! Aren’t you supposed to be all for capitalism and the pursuit of prosperity?”

  She huffed out a laugh. Her voice was partly muffled by the fabric of his jacket as she nestled her head alongside his collar bone. She fit to his side perfectly. He wondered if she noticed that. “I’m not opposed to it,” she answered. “But super wealthy people are different. They value different things in life. That’s how they got rich in the first place.”

  “Not necessarily,” he argued. “If you’re climbing your way to the top by stepping on other people, then yeah, that’s an ethical problem. But you can’t convince me that making money and being a nice person are mutually exclusive. I am a businessman, you know.”

  She gave another muffled laugh. “Aren’t Canadians supposed to be all about equality? Are you sure you aren’t American?”

  “I am American, actually,” he confessed. “Half, anyway. I was born in Seattle.”

  Her head lifted abruptly. “You’re half American? How does that work?”

  “My mother is Canadian and my father is American,” he answered, puzzled by her sudden interest in the topic. “We lived in Washington State till I was ten, and then my parents divorced and my mother brought me and my brother back to her hometown in Canada. So I have dual citizenship. Which sounds great, until tax time.”

  Her blue eyes, which had looked strangely hopeful for a moment, resumed their previous despair. “I see. You have American citizenship because you were born there. You would have even if both your parents had been Canadian.”

  “That’s right.” Her head returned to its niche on his chest. He promptly broke out in a sweat. She felt so right where she was. He couldn’t bring himself to dislodge her.

  “Why the interest?” he pressed, trying not to notice the smell of her shampoo. Her hair was pure blond, with no trace of darkness at its roots. Literally everything about Laney was natural. Earthy. Honest. Sensual.

  Holding her so close was pure, unmitigated torture.

  Holding her at arm’s length would be worse.

  “No reason,” she lied, still snuggling comfortably.

  A drop of sweat rolled down Jason’s neck. He made the sound of a buzzer. “False. Try again.”

  She tensed a little. Then she sighed. “Fine.” She made a move to straighten up, and Jason promptly set her aside from him and swiveled to face her.

  “The Tremblays,” she began, her tone wary as she weighed her words carefully. “It’s my own family they might be important to. Possibly dangerous to. I came up here with no real plan, just this half-baked idea that I needed to get to know them first. Without them knowing who I was.”

  Jason contemplated the hard-won information. She was telling him the truth now, and it made sense. Her mother’s death must have been the catalyst. Besides the drama of deathbed confessions, the exposure of wills and other private legal documents did sometimes bring nasty surprises. The Tremblays must be relatives. Relatives Laney either didn’t know about before, or didn’t think mattered. It was the “possibly dangerous” part that troubled him. Her fear was real, and he didn’t believe it was based on any disputed inheritance.

  He wanted to press for more, but stopped himself. The trust she’d shown in him so far was gratifying, but he knew it had limits. He waited for her to say more, but she remained quiet.

  “Thanks for that,” he offered finally. “You know I’m happy to help you, if I can. I just have one qualifying question, Ms. Miller. Are you out to do good or evil?”

  She smiled at him. “Only good. I promise.” She paused a beat, then added, “for everyone involved.”

  “All right, then,” he smiled back. “Both Tofino and Ucluelet are pretty small towns, and I do know plenty of people in both. I should have a decent shot at finding out the kind of information you’d like to know, without the Tremblays realizing that anyone is asking about them — or at least without them having any idea that you’re behind it. So how about we come up with a more practical plan of attack? Together?”

  Her blue eyes swam with… fondness. She looked almost as if she wanted to be kissed. Did she?

  Her head snapped away. She did not.

  Dammit! He chastised himself immediately. What was he thinking? He had no business rooting for her to
feel something for him — not when he would only break her heart. Nor could he root for sheer physical attraction; forever girls didn’t separate the two.

  “Thank you,” she said, somewhat unsteadily. “I meant what I said about working for you. I’ll feel better if I have some way to repay your time.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that we’re officially friends now,” he protested. “Friends don’t do favors because they expect to be paid.”

  Her face clouded. She knew he was right, but for whatever reason, she was still uncomfortable. She didn’t seem to want to owe him anything.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “If you want to help me around the lodge, I can try to make you sorry you offered. Good enough?”

  She smiled. “Perfect. Thanks. Will I be able to watch you surf from the office window?”

  Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “You like watching me surf?” He sounded like an adolescent. Women watched him surf all the time. They oohed and aahed and cheered and went to a great deal of effort to puff up his ego every which way possible. But Laney’s wanting to watch was different. She didn’t give a damn about his ego. What she wanted was to study the art itself, to absorb it, to learn it. Surfing was a passion she was only just discovering for herself.

  It was her destiny.

  He sprang up from the log and offered her a hand. “If I’m out, I’ll do my best to surf within viewing range,” he promised. “Let’s head back now, shall we?”

  She reached up toward him, still smiling, and as their hands clasped he was able to picture his own destiny quite clearly.

  Both involved large amounts of cold water.

  Chapter 21

  Jason stood in the doorway of Laney’s small room, reluctant to move any closer. His attraction to her was a problem, and he needed to address it, pronto. She was suffering enough emotional pain already, and though he still didn’t know its source, he was determined not to add to it. Whether he wanted to jump the woman’s bones or not — and there was no more fooling himself about that; he absolutely, definitely did — he could not let her see it. If she had any gushy romantic feelings about him, his attraction would only encourage her. If all she felt for him was raw, animal lust — the mere thought of which induced another sweat — well, that would only encourage him, potentially beyond endurance. He couldn’t let it get to that. Even if she claimed that a temporary hookup was enough for her, even if she actually believed it at the time, he knew better. Experience showed it would all end badly.

  Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. Perhaps she felt nothing for him either way. But he refused to take that chance. He cleared his throat. “I only have about an hour to strategize tonight, then I’ve got to get to town. I have a date. But we can start putting a plan into action first thing tomorrow morning. Okay?”

  Laney looked up from where she was sitting on her bed, booting up the computer on her lap. She appeared startled. That was bad. But to her credit, she recovered quickly. “Sure,” she agreed. “So what is the plan? What do you need to get started? I had more info on Gordon, but I’m afraid I didn’t save it. I was…” A flash of annoyance crossed her face. “I clearly wasn’t thinking straight before I left Peck. But I can find it all again, I’m sure. I had to sign up for—”

  She uttered a four-letter word he hadn’t heard her use before. “The free trials!” she lamented. “I forgot to unsubscribe!” She swore again. “My card will get charged for all the— Oh, I’m so stupid!”

  “You had a concussion,” Jason reminded softly, trying not to grin. She was cute when she was angry, but he knew better than to tell any woman that. “It’s okay to give yourself a break for forgetting something.”

  She was not appeased. “Well, this is going to take a while. If I can’t remember the passwords I’ll have to change them all and then cancel.” She looked up, her face reddened with both embarrassment and frustration. “I’m sorry, but this is going to take forever. You might as well go on. I’ll copy everything I find into a file and we can go over it tomorrow.”

  Jason had been dismissed. It was what he wanted, but he didn’t like it. What he’d like to do was make them both a cup of hot chocolate, nestle into the loveseat in his office, and let nature take its course. “Okay,” he replied. “Sounds good.”

  “Have a good night,” she said, rather stiffly.

  He tensed. “I will. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  He stepped outside and shut her door. He was doing the right and decent thing, he reminded himself. He was no good for her. She was no good for him. Their lifestyles and values were incompatible.

  He walked to his office, then pulled out his phone. The Aussie would be only too happy to hear from him. They could meet up at Wolf in the Mist, have dinner and a few drinks, then head back to his place. He stared at her last emoji-laden, unmistakably lascivious text.

  He stood, staring, for a very long time. Then he put the phone back in his pocket, collected his stuff, and drove home.

  There was nothing wrong with him, he told himself. He just wasn’t in the mood. His mind was too embroiled in the tasks ahead. He could easily look up a little more about Gordon and Joan Tremblay on his own computer, maybe get started with a few phone calls tonight. If he found out anything good, he could greet Laney with it first thing tomorrow. She’d like that.

  He microwaved two hot dogs and a cup of rice, washed them down with cola straight from a two-liter, then settled onto his sectional couch with his laptop. It didn’t take him long to discover Gordon’s preretirement line of work. When he saw the name of the investment banking firm in question, he knew which contact would be first on his list.

  “Hey, Grandpa,” he greeted a few moments later. “It’s Jason. How’s everything going?”

  Joe Grant, a kindly but stoic man who had spent his entire working life as a banker, gave his usual rundown of happenings in the small north island town where Jason and his brother had spent their teen years. Jason listened to his grandfather’s discourse on the weather, the state of his grandmother’s arthritis, and the perils of the national economy before asking his primary question. “By the way, I came across the name Gordon Tremblay today, and I was thinking about when Whitney Mayer did their buyout. That was before you retired, right?”

  “Oh, yes, about eighteen months before,” the banker replied, displaying his still-sharp memory. “Whitney Mayer brought in a lot of changes. Not all good ones, either, in my opinion. But it pleased your grandma, at least, since she was finally able to convince me to retire.”

  “Do you remember anything about Gordon Tremblay specifically?” Jason asked. “Like what kind of reputation he had as a CEO?”

  Joe cleared his throat, signaling that his grandson was in for another lengthy discourse. “Tremblay had a good reputation within the industry itself. He was known to be ethical and fair-minded. Big philanthropist, too. But his philanthropy was part of the problem. He was an environmentalist, back when not too many businessmen were, and he was outspoken about it. He ruffled a lot of feathers in the logging industry, and I don’t need to tell you how that went over with our clientele. The pulp mills were already hurting.”

  “I see the problem,” Jason agreed, even as his personal respect for Gordon ticked up a notch.

  “The bank did well enough under him, though,” Joe conceded. “And he did donate to other causes, like the universities. He had an interest in Vancouver Island, for sure. I don’t know if he vacationed here or what, but it was his run-ins with the local loggers that made him unpopular at the bank.”

  Jason smiled to himself. Figuring out where Gordon spent his money could be helpful. Not only would it tell Laney something about his character, but it could lead to closer personal contacts. He thanked his grandfather for the information, chatted a while longer about business and economics — subjects on which Jason was the only family member willing to indulge him — and said goodbye.

  Jason’s next round of computer searches proved more frustrating. If
Gordon had donated to any of the environmental charities associated with his new home base, he had done so anonymously. Another credit to his character, perhaps, but inconvenient for Jason. Still, he had no intention of giving up. He picked up his phone and made another call. His friend Chaz answered on the second ring.

  “Jason! My man! Whuzzup?”

  He grinned at the greeting. Chaz was the volunteer head of the Pacific Rim chapter of SurfersAct, a national charity aimed at cleaning up the crapload of plastic littering the world’s beaches and oceans. He was also an excellent surfer, and a really nice guy. “Hey. Listen, I’ve got a quick question for you. You’ve got Gordon Tremblay down as one of our donors already, don’t you?”

  Jason felt a pang of guilt at the deception. Tremblay wasn’t on the official list of donors, and if he’d given anonymously, Chaz wasn’t supposed to say so. But he might if he thought Jason already knew.

  “Yeah, man, he’s like platinum league. Why, you’re not planning to hit him up again, are you?”

  Jason smirked. “Well I was thinking about it, but I won’t now. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “He gives to a lot of local stuff, right?”

  “Aw, hell yeah,” Chaz elaborated. “He’s awesome. Crazy-ass rich, but he shares the love. He started up one of the first salmon societies — you know, the big one in Port Alberni? He fishes himself. Used to surf, too, did you know that?”

  Jason did not. But it pleased him immensely. “Does he still?”

  “Nah, he’s got bad knees or something. But he used to surf Tofino. Back before our time. He’s got a place in Ucluelet now.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Jason admitted conveniently. “It’s massive.” He chatted with his friend a bit more, renewed his promise to show up at the next beach cleanup, and rang off. Feeling pleased with himself, he threw a packet of popcorn in the microwave and then typed the new info into his file. He was two for two, and each lead was conveniently creating another. He envisioned Laney smiling as he presented her with exactly what she desired…