“I know the feeling. Did you already get your ice cream?”
“No, he isn’t back yet.” She lay down a queen of spades and scooped up a handful of cards.
“Then I’ll buy you one. Come on. The Forget Me Not just had a huge day and I want to celebrate. I’ll buy you both a cone.”
“First I have to win.” Ruby glared ferociously at Hunter. “I’m going to win, you know. The odds are now seven to six in my favor.”
Was it a good thing that her math whiz kid was learning how to calculate odds like a Vegas bookmaker?
Ah well, she was in too good a mood to worry about it. She sat with her back against the shingled outer wall of the office and scratched Fidget’s head. The warm sunshine pressed her eyelids down, as if she were a child being soothed to sleep by an infinitely loving parent.
Lost souls … wounded souls …searching for something … was there something to all that? Her imagination drifted through the people she knew in this little harbor. Zoe’s family had come here from Boston when she was a kid. Trixie had grown up here, but her family was from Thailand. They’d probably come here looking for an opportunity. Not much more to it than that. Or was there?
Visitors really make an effort to reach Lost Harbor, Alaska. It was way off the beaten path, almost an afterthought at the end of a long highway, as if the founders had traveled so far they didn’t want to go back when they’d reached the end of the peninsula. Maybe the first explorers literally were lost. That would explain the name they’d given the wilderness across the bay. And what about the story of the native tribe that had vanished into the glacier? Why hadn’t Zoe and Trixie wanted to share that story?
“My dog has no damn loyalty.” The deep male voice, rich with amusement, startled her awake. “First you steal my shot at stardom, now you’re taking Fidget?”
Lucas loomed over her. At first she couldn’t quite open her eyes against the sunlight haloing his form. She held up a hand to block the sun, but he noticed and shifted so it wasn’t necessary.
Those thoughtful little actions of his made it very hard to hate him.
“Just keeping him company while his master gallivants about.”
“Gallivant. I need to do more of that.”
Fidget climbed to his feet, his whole body quivering with excitement. Megan sympathized with that reaction. Her pulse skipped a few beats as she gazed up at the compact mountain of man above her.
She didn’t like feeling at a disadvantage like that and tried to scramble to her feet. He reached a hand down to help her. The warm clasp of his grip, the rough slide of his calloused palm against hers, didn’t help the fluttery heart situation at all.
“Want to come gallivant with me?” he murmured as she reached a standing position. “You probably want to celebrate. I heard you wowed the Trekking guys with your feminine wiles.”
“No, with an orca,” she corrected.
“Right. A whale, not a wile.”
She laughed. “Technically, they’re dolphins.”
He glanced behind her at the two kids, who were now arguing over something that had just happened in their game. How could you argue over War? Somehow they’d found a way.
Crap—was she setting a bad example for her child by battling with Lucas as much as she did?
She should fix that. Right now. What better moment, when the sun was warming her face and melting all her defenses? “I can celebrate for a bit, as long as these two are okay.”
“You kids okay for a few minutes?” he asked them.
The two children barely looked up at the grownups.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“We’ll be back in a jiff, Ruby,” Megan told her daughter. “I’ll bring you a treat, okay?”
“I already owe her an ice cream.” For the briefest moment, Lucas’ hand rested on the small of her back as he guided her across the worn planks of the boardwalk. He dropped it almost before she noticed it was there. But the imprint of that slight pressure persisted even as they strolled past a display rack of sweaters.
“I know. It’s not necessary, though. She loves walking Fidget. She’d probably give you an ice cream cone just for the opportunity.”
“She’s never had a dog of her own?”
“Nope. We’ve always moved around a lot, for research projects and such. Once she came home from school with a goldfish and I had to outwait the darn thing before I could accept a teaching assistant job. I didn’t want to move with a fishbowl. Luckily, they have short lifespans. I should have known she’d love it here. Fish everywhere you look.”
She waved at the nearest charter office, Hooked on Halibut Charters. Two deckhands were hooking the day’s catch to a hanging scale for the official weigh-in. A cluster of tourists were documenting the event with iPhones and video cameras.
“You don’t like fish?”
“They’re not my specialty. Birds are so much more interesting. I’ve always loved birds, ever since I was Ruby’s age. Did you know that birds develop different dialects depending on where they’re living? The White-crowned Sparrows we see here have a slightly different call than the same species down in midcoast California.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
Why was he asking all these personal questions? He’d never done anything like that before. And where was the impatient scowl he usually directed at her? Something was up with Lucas Holt.
“My family mostly lives in Arizona,” she said cautiously. “But I went to grad school in the San Francisco area.”
“What brought you to Lost Harbor?” They’d reached one of the few coffee shops on the boardwalk. At a table on the terrace, two fishermen were deep in a game of chess. The board was painted onto the table, along with many victors’ initials. Tradition held that if you won, you could write your initials on the prefab concrete.
She caught a quick look of sadness crossing Lucas’ face, and realized that all those “JHs” must be his father’s initials.
One more reminder of how deep his roots here went—and how nonexistent hers were.
Chapter Eleven
They stepped into the cool interior of the coffee shop. It had the feel of a retro apothecary. Jars of loose-leaf teas filled the mahogany shelves that lined the walls. A classic Italian espresso machine gleamed black and gold on the counter. A standup bar ran the length of the front wall. Perfect for people-watching on the boardwalk.
Lucas ordered a coffee and gestured for her to make her choice.
Slightly wary, she ordered a cappuccino. What was this all about? Why the sudden friendliness from someone who’d been dismissive of her since day one? Was this some kind of chess move in the ongoing feud that was their relationship?
If it was, she’d just watch it play out and respond accordingly. Or maybe she’d throw him off with an equal amount of friendliness.
“Thanks for putting in a good word with the Trekking producers,” she said cheerfully as they carried their mugs to the standup bar. “You didn’t have to do that. I appreciate it.”
“I’m not the asshole I behaved like at first.” He pushed a small ceramic tub of sugar toward her. How did he know she liked a lot of sugar in her coffee?
“Isn’t that what assholes always say?” She added a smile to her words. Did she think he was an asshole? Maybe she had—maybe she still did—but he was more complicated than a simple insult like that.
“My dad always boasted about being an asshole.” He shrugged, then immediately hid behind his coffee mug.
Impulsively, she put a hand on his forearm. The steely strength lurking under his sleeve sent a shock through her. “I am sorry about your father.”
Clearly embarrassed, he put down his mug with a click. “You said that when we first met. I’m not in the market for sympathy, unless it’s over the piles of junk I have to deal with.”
Hadn’t they had this conversation already? “Fine. You don’t want me to be nice. I got that message before. Then what are we doing here?” She gestured at t
he coffee shop. The girl behind the counter had disappeared into the back somewhere, probably sifting teas into jars.
“Peace treaty,” he said. “I was an ass to you the first time we met, and I’ve felt bad about it ever since. I was fresh off my dad’s death but that doesn’t justify it.” One side of his mouth quirked upwards. “Kinda wish we could start over. Like when you first bumped into my boat.”
“Fine. We can start over. Here, let’s do a reenactment.” She took a yellow packet of Splenda and plopped it on the counter. “This is the Forget Me Not. Here’s the Jack Hammer.” She selected a brown packet of raw cane sugar for his boat.
“Raw. Is that in honor of my raw animal magnetism?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of your uncivilized manners.” Again, she smiled to make sure he didn’t take offense.
“Got it.” He seemed unfazed by her teasing. She liked that about him. He usually let her barbs roll off him. Sometimes it got annoying, but overall she appreciated it. She didn’t have to hold back with him. “So this is like one of those Civil War battles, with sugar packets instead of uniforms?”
“Exactly. So there’s you, tied up at the float right next to my slip, where I’d never seen a boat before.”
“The Hammer needed some repairs. It wasn’t some kind of sneak attack.”
She ignored him and tapped the Splenda packet. “And here’s me, obeying every speed limit, following all the rules, returning from a hard day’s work of chick counting.”
“In what world is ‘chick counting’ work?”
She ignored his double entendre. “In the ornithology world. We need to track population growth and breeding rates, obviously.”
“My bad. Sounds exhausting. Proceed.”
She steered the packet of Splenda across the counter toward the packet of sugar. “Imagine my surprise when there’s an aggro fishing boat where I’m supposed to tie up.”
“Aggro?”
“Aggro,” she said firmly. “That boat is designed to bully. It’s the kind of boat that would stuff you in a locker. The kind of boat that can deadlift a Volvo. The kind of boat that kisses its own biceps. The kind of boat—”
“I get the point.” Lucas was laughing, and it was a glorious sight to see. She noticed a dimple flashing through his dark late-day stubble. “You’re saying my boat is an asshole.”
“Your word, not mine. And here’s the dainty old Forget Me Not, which is the closest thing a boat can come to a rocking chair, drifting innocently through the harbor, practically knitting as she goes.”
“And when she reached the ramp, she executes a perfect maneuver to land as softly as a duck feather next to the Jack Hammer.” Now he was getting into the spirit of things. “What happens after your magnificent docking job?”
“First, you applaud.”
He did so, clapping and bowing down to the Splenda package.
“Then I step out of the boat and introduce myself. Hi, I’m Megan Miller. I recently moved to Lost Harbor. I’m happy to meet my new harbor neighbor.”
“And I say…” He cleared his throat. “Harbor neighbors aren’t a thing. But welcome to Lost Harbor, Megan. I’m Lucas Holt. If you need anything, give me a call. Always happy to help out. Here’s my number. I don’t sleep much so feel free to call anytime.” He handed her a napkin.
“Oh. Thank you, what a nice gesture. I’m sure I’ll be fine because even though I’m new to the world of boats, I love a good challenge and how hard could it be?”
His smile went a bit rigid. “Wishing you the best of luck, of course, Megan, but may I point out that such a cavalier attitude is risky to you and those around you? Especially your harbor neighbors?”
“I thought that wasn’t a thing.”
“You introduced the concept so apparently now it is.”
“So it’s a thing only when it suits you.”
“Just trying to speak your quirky California lingo. It’s like a different language.”
Megan paused for a breath before launching her next lob, but then caught his eye. They stared at each other for a moment, then both burst into laughter.
“So apparently no matter how things start out, we’re destined to end up squabbling,” she said, wiping away a tear of laughter.
“I guess some things are just meant to be.”
But now all the tension of a moment ago had melted away and something very different took its place. A warmth—something sunny and electric and knee-melting. She became very aware of how close his arm was to hers. How hard and muscled and solid he felt next to her. Lucas was the kind of man who would be a bulwark against anything the world threw at him. The kind of man who took risks like heading into stormy waters to rescue people.
She edged her arm away from his on the counter. This new feeling unnerved her. Just when she’d gotten used to their battles, now he wanted to change things up? To what end?
“By the way, I took an entire course on boat safety before I came to Alaska. I passed the final test with a perfect score.”
He tilted his head at her with a quizzical glance. “Grad students know how to study, not a big shock.”
“It was a practical exam. The entire course was hands-on. I would never have taken this job and put my daughter on a boat if I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His dark eyes held her gaze. This close—had she ever been this close to him before?—she noticed the flecks of jade mixed in with the deep brown. One more surprise about Lucas Holt.
“Why did you come here?” he asked. Asking such a normal question seemed to make him uncomfortable. He took an awkward sip of his coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“A lot of reasons.” The primary reason flashed like a siren, but she didn’t want to get into that one. Don’t think about that. “Mostly for Ruby. She can live in her head a lot, and I worried that if we stayed in the city she’d never form a relationship with nature.”
His dimple flashed again. “Relationship with nature, huh?”
With a shrug, she stirred more sugar into her coffee. “Do I sound like a hippie? Look, when I studied ornithology I spent more time on my computer than I did in the field. Everything we do is online or on our phones. I started to wonder if Ruby would think the whole world can be found in a book or on a screen.” She sipped the coffee. “Even if we go back to San Francisco now, she’ll always have this time in Lost Harbor to remember. She’ll never forget the ocean mist on her face or the tug of a halibut on the end of your line.”
“Best feeling, isn’t it?” He gave a quick quirk of a smile. “It’s like the ocean tapping you on the shoulder to tell you a secret.”
It took her a moment to put that almost-poetic description together with the rugged fisherman standing next to her. “Wow, that’s an interesting way to put it. I like that. So it’s not just about money to you.”
“Fishing charters? Not exactly. I made a lot more money with my investment business back in Colorado. I still do, even though I’ve cut back on my client list.”
“Colorado’s about as far away from the ocean as you can get.”
“Yes it is.”
He didn’t elaborate, but she’d gotten this far, so she decided to push onwards. “Did you miss the ocean?”
“Colorado has mountains. Rivers. Lots of nature.”
“That’s … not an answer to my question.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he studied the coffee swirling in his mug. “Know how I learned to swim?”
“How?”
“My father tossed me overboard when I was a toddler. It’s one of my first memories, and I’ll never forget it. The cold just…engulfed me. It was dark and terrifying and I opened my mouth to cry but water rushed in. I knew my dad wanted something out of me. Maybe for me to die. Either be strong or die. Something. But I couldn’t think or move or do anything—or maybe I did, I’m sure I must have. That survival instinct is so primal. All I remember is that I got lifted up toward the surface by some kind of current.”
>
He paused. Megan didn’t want to breathe a word that might interrupt his flow. His story fascinated her.
“I’ve always wondered what kind of current would have propelled me straight up like that. Maybe I just remember it wrong. Anyway, I bobbed up to the surface and splashed around until I caught my breath. My dad reached over the side and offered me his hand. But I didn’t trust him anymore. I dog-paddled to the ladder and clung to it. I couldn’t climb because I was shivering so hard at that point. In the end he pulled it up with me hanging on for dear life.”
Megan shivered from the chill the story gave her. “Were you okay?”
“I spent a couple days in bed under a pile of blankets. The water here will give you hypothermia in a couple of minutes. I survived, obviously. And I never trusted my father again. But the ocean…”
He glanced out the window, across the boardwalk and the road to the restless waters of Misty Bay.
“Yeah, I did miss the ocean,” he finally said. “I guess it’s part of me by now. No matter where I go.”
Chapter Twelve
Why the hell had he told Megan Miller that story about his father? He couldn’t remember ever telling it to anyone else. The closest he’d ever come was when he’d told Maya Badger, back in high school, that his father redefined “throw him into the deep end and see if he can swim.” He’d never shared the details or anything about how it had affected him.
But now when he glanced at Megan, he took in her softened expression with a sense of...tenderness, almost. Sweet of her to care, but it didn’t matter.
“Don’t get that sappy look on your face. I’ve been over it for about thirty years.”
She blinked at him, her long eyelashes dropping over her wide blue-gray eyes. If he had to find a word to describe Megan’s usual expression, it would be “hopeful.” Or maybe “naive.” Or even “annoyingly optimistic.” She’d blown into Lost Harbor like a spring breeze with all her ideas about reducing waste and cleaning up the harbor. Not that they were bad ideas, per se. He respected her idealism and energy.
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