The Lost Sister (Sister Series, #8)

by Leanne Davis

  Her curiosity piquing, Tara stared at the shiny, silver fish. It was at least half the length of Ryder and nearly as big as Wyatt. “It’s a big one?”

  Ryder grabbed a bucket and put water in it before setting it down. He peeked at her quickly, standing up straight as he said, “This is a trophy catch, Tara. Thirty-three pounds. Honestly, I haven’t caught one like this in ten years.”

  Tara jumped down, carefully avoiding all the slime, scales, and blood of the fish getting on her body parts. It had a strong aroma to it. She could only stare at Ryder holding it up, letting some of its huge body rest on the floor. “You’re going to have to take a picture. This is epic.”

  Epic? Huh, Tara was really never epic at anything, much less reeling in a fish.

  “You want me to touch it?” Her nose wrinkled up at the prospect. Ryder set the fish down and chuckled as he leaned over the side of his boat and washed his hands off. He dried his hands on his pant legs and walked over to the steering wheel, coming back with his phone. He took a few pictures with the net beside it to give it better perspective. Then Wyatt lay down right next to it. Tara shuddered. Right there, on top of the fish scales and dribbles of goo and blood. Oh, yuck. Boys were so yucky. Big and little boys and men were all kind of disgusting.

  Then Ryder went over to the ice chest and came back and handed her a pair of blue gloves. “Here. Wear these.” She glared at him, but put the gloves on. “Put your hands around this.” She closed her eyes, grimacing when she felt the weight of the fish he handed to her. Grunting, she leaned forward, trying to hold it. Ryder’s phone came up for a second and he muttered, “Got it.”

  Tara let the fish fall to the deck. The next job was shared by Ryder and Wyatt. They began working in tandem to clean up the back of the boat by putting the fish into a bucket of river water and letting it bleed out, they informed her. She shuddered at the sight of it. Ryder used a hose that sucked up river water to spray down the back end of the boat along with all the goo and blood, which was swiftly washed away. She had no idea there was such an elaborate process to fishing. They tootled the boat back up to the buoy and Ryder used a hook to grab the rope attached to it so he could hook the boat up and go through everything again, dropping lines in the water, etc… only the waiting period was zero. They caught four more fish over the next hour, one of which was wild. It was a large one, weighing in the twenties and Ryder said they had to turn it loose. Tara surprised herself by feeling actually disappointed. Wyatt reeled in the next one, and she assumed Ryder would have too, but he kept encouraging her to reel them in. It became strangely fun in no time at all. The exhilaration of finally scooping up the fish with the net and the chorus of exclamations that followed delighted Tara and she felt a real part of it.

  They were red hot. The hog line had each boat catching at least one springer, while above that, they didn’t catch nearly as many. After they each caught their limit, they motored back toward the boat launch. Before loading the boat, Ryder cleaned all three fish off the back of the boat. Wyatt was right there helping, by taking the fish parts and guts and playing with them or tossing them out into the water. Tara shuddered more at seeing all the nastiness on his hands. Wyatt quickly picked up on her squeamishness. He started threatening her with various fish parts and pretending to touch her or grab her hair, making her screech and squeal as she jumped into the bow to hide from him. Ryder’s teeth flashed with smiles while he worked, obviously enjoying the show she and Wyatt were putting on. Every so often, he admonished Wyatt if he went too far. Tara was being loud. Thunderous, noisy, screaming, and screeching from all the excitement of catching fish and Wyatt’s taunts and threats. It was unprecedented for Tara to be all those things… and having fun while doing it. And all the while Ryder smiled with pleasure as she did so. Which released warm, fuzzy feelings inside her chest. She loved the day she’d spent with these two.

  That was probably the most profound thing of all. She was having such a blast, she forgot to notice herself or what she said. The reserved wall was gone. For once, it was completely absent and she had a thrilling time with Wyatt… and Ryder.

  Oddly enough, it seemed like they were having just as much fun with her on board the boat.

  Finally, all the fish were cleaned and stowed. Ryder loaded the boat on the trailer in minutes flat. That was pretty impressive. She jumped out of the boat and walked down the ramp and dock to stare at what was too dark for her to see earlier. The Columbia swooshed by in its rapid current. Across the channel, she spotted an island covered in evergreens and huge cottonwoods that were lighter in color than the emerald conifers.

  She glanced up when Ryder approached her from behind. “What is that? I’ve noticed it before but I just didn’t realize until I was standing below it how big it was.” She pointed at the large rock hovering over the river to her left.

  “Beacon Rock. There’s a hiking trail there; we should do it sometime. The views are not to be believed.”

  “How tall is it?”

  He blew the air from his cheeks. “Let’s see, I believe I knew the answer to that question at one time. I think it is over eight hundred feet tall. Second largest single rock in the northern hemisphere. Popular hiking spot too. Once in a while, we catch people who sneak up there to hang glide from it.”

  “This area is full of so much to see and do.”

  “Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area. There’s the Bridge of the Gods and the Gorge Amphitheatre and windsurfing, hiking, fishing… as you just witnessed. It’s a good place to live.”

  She smiled up at him. Who knew she’d find a good place to live?

  “So what did you think of fishing? I know it isn’t anything you’re used to… and as you saw for yourself, not a lot of women follow the sport, but…”

  Glancing up at his face, she could tell he hadn’t shaved. Whiskers covered his chin and cheeks. One hand was hooked behind his neck and he was rubbing it. What pleased her most was her sense that he was unsure of how she would respond, and he cared about her response.

  “I loved the boat ride.”

  “Yeah? We could take you for a proper cruise sometime. Some pretty waterfalls further downriver.”

  “I would like that very much.” Her tone was more formal than usual, but her smile was bigger than he’d seen before. She glanced up at him again. “I wasn’t sure at first and then… well, truthfully, I thought it was kinda gross, until… I started to get it. I was so worried I’d lose it and I did not want to make you mad if I lost it because I wanted to catch it by then.”

  “Really?” His smile was huge… and boyish. It made her heart flutter. Her answer seriously seemed to please him.

  “Really.” She matched his grin, adding, “Thank you for taking me. This is all strange to me. But really amazing too. So… often you’re out there”—she waved towards the water—“in a professional manner?”

  “Yeah, checking the boats and lures, and the hooks and licenses. When we pull in with our official boats, you should see some of the scrambling that goes on. People, mostly decent people that are just slightly breaking rules, almost always give themselves away by trying to act nonchalantly. Like this fisherman who kept a wild salmon instead of letting it go. He was acting all fidgety and worried, which is so obvious. Or the family that was using barbed hooks when barb-less hooks are required. It’s almost predictable. Real criminals give nothing away.”

  They started to walk back towards the shore as they spoke. Between the dock and the truck Wyatt appeared, grabbing Tara’s hand unexpectedly. His fat little hand felt clammy and she cringed, picturing all the dead fish guts he’d been messing with earlier. But she was more intrigued that he so casually grabbed her hand before entering a long discussion about the fish he caught, how he reeled it in, and how monstrous it was. He used his hands and entire body to illustrate his fish story.

  They had to separate their hands to get into the truck. As they drove, Ryder’s phone kept dinging with new text messages. He glanced at them and chu
ckled. Finally, Tara’s curiosity made her ask, “Why’s your phone blowing up? Work? Is there some kind of emergency?”

  “You.”

  She turned fully towards him and stuck her hand on her chest. “Me? What about me?”

  “Well, actually, it’s the giant fish you’re holding.”

  “You texted that out?”

  “Tara, you’re holding Walter. Yeah, I sent it around, bragging rights and all. And our limits landed before… what is it? Two o’clock? Not normal. Trust me.”

  “Walter?”

  His lips tilted up. “I forget how new you are to the area. Just our way of saying the ‘elusive big fish.’ In this case, salmon.”

  “So my fish made you kind of a star?”

  “Wellll… yes, mostly.” He stretched out his tone.

  “Well, what else?”

  “That and you’re hot and they want to know who the hell you are. So between the two, I’m kind of a star for today.”

  Her gaze whipped up to his and his lips flashed a little grin. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t turn to look at her. “Quit staring so hard or your eyeballs will pop out. Surely you must’ve noticed you’re blonde and young and… well, all the things that guys consider… attractive in the opposite sex.”

  She glanced back. Wyatt was staring out the window, obviously uninterested in their conversation.

  She assumed Ryder was referring to her relatively large-sized breasts in comparison to the rest of her figure. She wasn’t a very big girl after spending years starving herself while she danced competitively from the age of eleven until she was seventeen. That was before her starving became full-blown anorexia, for which she was hospitalized. Not long afterward, she chose to forget it all by running away. Being hungry without having access to any food quickly changed her entire perception toward eating. It was easy to stay thin without regular meals. Ryder didn’t act or even seem to notice she was female, young or even close to being “hot.”

  “Wh-what are you telling them? Who am I?”

  “The new server that works at Chloe’s. Expect some more business soon.” He flashed a bright grin her way. What was that? She could have sworn he was flirting with her. But no. Ryder didn’t flirt. He was civil and polite and so nice. Never flirty.

  As he spoke, his phone dinged two more times. He glanced at the callers, then back at the road. “But don’t underestimate the general interest in that fish.”

  She rolled her eyes and Ryder laughed. “So… you’ll have to come over for dinner and eat Walter with us. There is no way you can’t after all you accomplished today. He’s all yours.”

  “Yeah. Tara, come for dinner,” Wyatt exclaimed from the back.

  A fleeting thrill shot through her body. They wanted her company. She nodded her consent. It wasn’t like she had anything more pressing to do or attend to. “I’d like that. I don’t often eat fresh salmon.” Not since she abandoned her life of luxury as a Tamasy.

  He was already driving home, she realized, when seconds later, he took a left off the main highway and followed a twisting road. After exiting onto a gravel driveway that crossed a stand of trees, the road opened up to more fields that were rimmed in more trees. Up ahead stood a white farmhouse with a porch and a roomy swing. A large, well-maintained red barn abutted the house and stood somewhat taller. It was nothing less than lovely, set against the rural land and featuring far off glimpses of the Columbia River as it gleamed across the rolling empty land, hills, and mountains.

  He swung around and quickly backed the boat up inside the open doors of the barn until he was satisfied with its placement. They both got out, and Wyatt bounded eagerly towards the house. Tara followed Ryder, walking to the tailgate of his truck as he undid chains, wire and finally the ball hitch of the boat trailer before detaching it from his truck. He glanced up, catching her gaze and smiling pleasantly.

  She smiled back and her stomach churned again. Whipping around, she felt grateful when Wyatt called her name. She walked quickly out of the barn to find Wyatt playing with a black labrador retriever that came padding up to Tara, wagging her tail in a calm, friendly greeting. Tara leaned down and rubbed the sleek, black fur. “Aren’t you beautiful?” The dog wagged her tail again at Tara’s soft voice and gentle rubbing of her ears.

  “That’s Daisy,” Wyatt informed her. He took her hand and led her inside before taking her all around their house. It was old-fashioned, but recently updated. It was so pleasant to Tara’s eyes; she wanted to burrow inside there and never leave it. She wondered if she could be happy there. The door slammed shut behind them eventually and Ryder’s tall form filled the doorway. It made her stomach drop again when their gazes met and neither of them flinched or moved. Tara was confused by all the… the… energy that seemed to be radiating between them.

  “Did you do all this work?”

  “Yes. I chink away at it. It’s old. It used to be Ebony’s grandparents’ house.”

  “Oh. That’s… that’s really lovely.” Tara turned away so he couldn’t see the pain flashing through her eyes. Grandparents helping their offspring? Imagine her grandfather… No! The money-grubbing old bastard could never lovingly be thought of as her grandpa.

  “Yeah, we couldn’t have touched it on my salary. I like having all the space for Wyatt to run and play.” He passed by her, carrying, she realized, the ice chest. He heaved it up on the kitchen counter.

  “Wanna play checkers, Tara?” Wyatt called from the stairs, wedging his face between the staircase newels.

  She smiled. “I’d love to play checkers. Unless your dad needs some help with dinner?”

  “Nope. You caught it, I’ll fix it. By the way, do you know how to cook fish?”

  “Not a clue.” She grinned. “I can’t cook more than a box of noodles. Instructions required.”

  Tara spent the next hour playing checkers with Wyatt and later, Candy Land and Go Fish. Ryder prepared the huge fillet and put it on the barbecue while rice and peas boiled away on the stovetop. She sat at the kitchen table with Wyatt and discreetly watched Ryder as he cooked the dinner before he vacuum-packed the rest of the fish and put it in the freezer. Finally, he sat down beside them, saying, “I have time for one game of Candy Land. That’s just enough for me to whip the butts off you two.”

  And he did too. He won. Easily. But it was the most fun Tara ever had losing. Ryder kidded his son in a gentle, fun manner and used a harsher, edgier way when he teased her. He was so competitive and that made her laugh, considering he was playing a child’s game. As he stretched out after the win, he asked, “You want some wine with dinner?”

  “Yes. Sure.”

  Had she ever simply drunk a glass of wine with another adult? No! She’d been living on the streets for awhile when she turned twenty-one. It wasn’t like she celebrated that birthday by having a drink out with loved ones and friends. He got up and opened a bottle of chardonnay, setting one glass down before her and pouring his own. Wyatt ran off into the living room and took out a box of Legos. He sat down and started creating structures and soon became rapidly lost in them. She smiled at him, saying, “He’s something. That voice of his… it always makes me smile and feel happy whenever I hear it.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been told he should have his own sitcom between his voice and his looks. He’s pretty perfect.”

  Her heart warmed as Ryder’s eyes sparkled with all the care and love that he reserved for his son playing in the next room. He leaned back and swirled the wine in the glass before swallowing a large gulp. No sipping or appearing all proper and sophisticated for him. “Wyatt’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Tara swallowed another sip of wine. It was easily making her head spin all around. She hadn’t drunk very much alcohol in her life so she had very little tolerance for it. It did its job of loosening her tongue, something she rarely experienced. It also prompted her to ask unfiltered questions. “Were—were you married to his mom for very long?”

  His gaze popped up, proba
bly surprised she wanted to engage him in conversation. “Ebony? Yes. We were married for three years before we had Wyatt.”

  “Chloe told me she… I mean, why she’s not here anymore.”

  He set the wine glass down. “I know. She told me too.”

  Tara flushed. “Oh.”

  Ryder leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Chloe and I became pretty close after Ebony left. We both missed her and couldn’t reconcile what could have made Ebony do that. Chloe looks exactly like her. You can’t imagine how much. Even I could hardly tell them apart. It… it was a little odd to see her face around here still, especially when the person I married… is gone.”

  She wondered what Ryder meant by “pretty close” although she shut her brain down and refused to devote any thoughts to it. It certainly did not matter to her what the history between Chloe and Ryder was. But the wine seemed to loosen the trap door that usually stayed tightly shut between her brain and her voice. “You and Chloe…?” Her tone implied sex even if she hadn’t.

  He jerked his gaze back to her. “No. No! Not that close. Like, she’s my sister-in-law kind of close. God, uh, no! I couldn’t sleep with my wife’s identical twin. That’d be sick and wrong and…”

  Tara slouched, her face now burning with shame. “I’m sorry. It’s just how you said it… and I’ve been drinking now… and, and I rarely drink. Or… or even talk to anyone. I’m a loner and have been for years. I think I forgot how it feels to be… normal.” She eventually finished her stilted conversation and hung her head in shame.

  Ryder grunted. “Honestly, Tara? I have noticed that. You should have seen your face when you realized who Wyatt’s father was.”

  “I was surprised it turned out to be you. As in, you, the cop.”

  “I could tell. Your eyes got huge; you don’t conceal many emotions. You weren’t so much surprised that it was me, the cop, as you were surprised that I was white.”