Everyone answered at once.
“When are we going to be on TV?”
“Can we get copies of the show?”
“Did they keep that part where I caught the Irish Lord, cuz that was gnarly as shit.”
Lucas held up his hand to stop the din. He wasn’t even hungover and yet his head throbbed.
Seeing Megan with her ex had done something to him. It had activated some primitive caveman instinct that made no sense. He wasn’t dating Megan. Her rich, smooth-as-butter ex-husband could move to Lost Harbor and it would make no difference to him. Should make no difference to him.
So why was he so riled up? He was an idiot, that was why.
Also, he really cared about Ruby. She was a great kid; Fidget loved her and Fidget was never wrong.
Maybe he needed to find out how Fidget felt about Dev. Right now his old hound was dozing at Lucas’ boots. Actually, more like on his boots.
When Mr. Business Degree held staff meetings, did his dog lie across his feet?
He shook himself back to his current job. “I don’t know shit about the Trekking show. As soon as I do, you will.”
“Viewing party at the Olde Salt!” Carla Baker, the receptionist, who worked for him mostly because she liked spending summers on the boardwalk, snapped her fingers through the air. “Leave all the planning to me.”
“If you want to do that, I won’t stop you. I also won’t be there, but party on, kids.”
His deckhands all looked relieved by that announcement. No one wanted their boss to catch them partying too hard. He’d already bailed one of them out of jail after a late-night brawl. He regularly talked to them about putting some of their pay into a savings account rather than blowing it all within two days. He even offered to do it for them. He’d opened a mutual fund account for each of them and every time he paid them, he asked how much they wanted to keep and how much they wanted to invest.
So far, his contributions were keeping the damn things open. But maybe they’d see the light someday.
“Couple things from the harbormaster,” he told the crew. “First, he and the Coast Guard wanted to pass along their thanks for the outstanding job we did on that kayak rescue last week. So thanks, guys. Great work.”
A kayaker had gotten caught in the day breeze and become too exhausted to paddle any farther. He’d actually passed out in the cockpit of the kayak. Ralphie, the deckhand on duty, had spotted the kayak drifting toward Widow Reef. The Coast Guard had asked Lucas to handle the rescue.
The retrieval had gone smoothly, and Lucas had spent a long time with the poor kid afterwards, explaining how easy it was to get fooled by the Alaska waters. “It could happen to anyone. That’s why we look out for each other out here.”
He led the staff in a round of applause for themselves, then checked his notes.
“Next item. That orphaned baby otter you’ve probably noticed on the breakwater. They’re saying that it’s bonded with that marker buoy just off the end. Thinks it’s his mother. Fish and Wildlife is trying to decide what to do, but in the meantime give it a wide berth. You are allowed to take photos, but don’t get within thirty yards of it.”
“Tell that to the Forget Me Not,” said Peggy Boyle, one of the deckhands. “They’ve been taking their passengers right up close.”
“I’m sure Fish and Wildlife is talking to them.” He could imagine how excited Ruby must be about the otter. He wished he could take her out there himself.
No. He and Megan had shared a brief moment of peace treaty, but that didn’t mean they were going to get involved in each other’s lives.
“Speaking of the Forget Me Not, Megan called and said you offered her ex-husband a charter. I told her I’d get back to her, because seriously?” Carla pushed back the sleeves of her Jack Hammer hoodie. “I thought she was on crack or something.”
He gritted his teeth. Right. The favor. He was hoping they’d forgotten about his offer. “Squeeze him in somewhere.”
“Really? But you and Megan…” Under his narrow-eyed stare, Carla elaborately zipped her lips. “Never mind.”
“Go on.” He gestured for her to continue.
“Everyone knows you and Megan hate each other. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That’s why you’re taking her ex out. It’s part of an evil scheme to make an alliance behind her back. Oh, you are good, Lucas Holt. Your dad knew how to carry on a feud, but this is next level.”
“Excuse me?” He snorted in disgust. “This isn’t Survivor. I don’t hate Megan, she doesn’t hate me, and I’m not scheming. I have no need to scheme. She’s not even a competitor. I don’t even know how she keeps that business going.”
“I heard she might have to fold,” said Beth, the business manager, who knew all the boardwalk gossip. “I’m surprised she didn’t give up over the winter, to be honest.”
“That’s because you don’t know her,” Lucas muttered.
His staff shot him a range of confused glances.
“That’s sad if they go under,” said Ralphie, who always got the biggest tips because of his sunny friendliness. “Megan’s a straight hottie.”
Carla gave him a wounded look. She and Ralphie had hooked up briefly, and she still pined for him.
Exactly why Lucas stuck to tourists. Good reminder.
“Her ex-husband is a wealthy and very good-looking businessman, and he has a British accent, so I doubt she’d give some raggedy fisherman a second look,” Peggy told Ralphie.
Lucas clenched his jaw tight. His deckhand made a good point, and it applied to him too. Not that he was interested in pursuing Megan. He’d already very much decided definitely not to.
“We’re getting off track here. What other Jack Hammer business do you guys have?”
The newest deckhand, Peggy’s younger brother Dale, raised his hand. “Can we get a different brand of hand soap on the boat? I think I’m allergic.” He rotated his hand, showing it from all angles. A red rash swept up his hands to his forearm.
“Beth, please research non-allergenic soaps and pick a good one for the boat.”
“Yes Lucas. Does everyone like lemon?”
“Lavender is nice,” said Ralphie thoughtfully.
Still angry, Carla glared at him. “Nothing takes out the fish smell like lemon. Everyone knows that.”
“What’s wrong with fish smell?” Peggy sniffed her hand. “We catch fish, come on.”
“Everyone will be fine with whatever scent you choose,” he said firmly, before another argument could get going. “Are we done?”
Carla raised a pen in the air. “Quick question. Do you want Megan’s ex-husband on one of your trips or not on one of your trips?”
Goddamn it. Even when Megan wasn’t here, she was causing a ruckus in his life. “One of mine,” he growled.
He ignored the knowing smirk on Carla’s face as she wrote that down in the booking ledger.
After the staff meeting, he had another hour before he had to get ready for a private trip someone had booked to one of the island lodges in the bay. They didn’t want to fish, they just wanted transport—in style.
He filled the time with a few calls for his other business. When he’d gotten the news that his father had died, he’d put his investment consulting business in sleep mode. That didn’t mean he’d shut it down. Consulting was completely portable. With Internet and phone service, he could work from anywhere. Some of his clients had no idea that he was now operating from a little town in Alaska instead of a big city in Colorado.
When he’d left Lost Harbor, he’d wanted to leave his rugged homestead upbringing behind, so he’d chosen business school. He’d worked his way through an accelerated program and graduated close to the top of his class. He’d gotten a job at a big firm in Denver, at which point his ingrained independence had asserted itself. He’d quit after a couple of years and started his own business, Holt and Associates Investments. “Associates” being the occasional freelancer he hired for things like creating prospectuses.
<
br /> Holt and Associates had grown and thrived; he’d had his first million dollar year two years ago. He’d told no one about that benchmark. Not his mother, not his father, not his brother and sister.
No one knew that he’d been walking around with a fat bank account for the past two years. He didn’t want anyone in Lost Harbor to know. To them, he was the son of Jack Holt, legendary waterfront character, and that was about the end of it. Fine by him. His life wasn’t here. His future wasn’t here.
If they knew he had money, they’d look at him differently. They might recruit him to run for city council or some shit. Instead, he made anonymous donations to the Mariners’ Fund and the Lost Souls Clean Energy Initiative.
If Megan knew about those donations, she might actually approve of him. But what would be the fun in that?
After rearranging a few things in a client’s portfolio—a fund focusing on tech looked promising—he checked in with his mother.
“How’s the yak?”
“You know something about that yak?” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think he might be your father reincarnated.”
“Uh…say what now?”
“He’s just as stubborn and just as horny. I caught him going after the milk cow and they aren’t even the same species. And sometimes I catch him looking at me and I think—that’s Jack.”
“Mom. That’s impossible.”
“Why? You don’t believe in reincarnation? You should see this yak’s beard. I swear it’s just like Jack’s.”
“That yak is what, three years old or so? Dad died eight months ago.”
“Well, I don’t know how it all works. Maybe Jack kicked out another soul that was already in the yak. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Lucas tilted his head back in silent laughter. Hey, what did he know? Maybe his mother had a point. “Well, you want to call a yak exorcist? What do you want here?”
“There’s no need to mock me. Why don’t you come have a little chat with him?”
“A chat with the yak?”
“It’s surprisingly relaxing.”
“That’s okay, Mom. Sounds like a private moment between husband and wife. And yak.” He hung up before he laughed out loud. If Lost Harbor had one thing in abundance, it was eccentric characters.
He included his whole family in that category.
Chapter Fifteen
Megan hadn’t gotten the opportunity to show a visitor around Lost Harbor yet. Her parents hadn’t been brave enough to visit—also, they highly disapproved of her being so far away. Taking Dev around town made her look at the place with fresh eyes.
Especially when she had to defend it from all his criticisms.
“It’s tiny. How many people live here, like five thousand or so?”
“Five thousand and thirty at last count. But how many people do you even know when you live in a big city? Not five thousand!”
“But…five restaurants?”
“We have at least ten good restaurants in the summer. There’s nothing wrong with making your own food, you know. People have gardens, they preserve their own food, pick their own berries, smoke their own fish…”
Dev’s look of horror made her laugh.
“You don’t have to do those things, but it’s good for Ruby to be exposed to such a different way of life.”
“That doesn’t mean she should live here. You can’t homeschool her much longer, Megan. She needs school. Show me the best school.”
“There’s only one school,” she admitted.
They drove to MacMurray Elementary, which was closed for the summer. A digital sign at the entrance said as much—except that “summer” was spelled “sumer.”
“They’re not very good at spellchecking that sign.” She sighed. “But it’s a respectable school. Ruby and I toured it in April when we got back. Ruby, what did you think?”
In the back seat, Ruby was working on a puzzle Dev had brought her—an eight-sided Rubik’s Cube.
“It looked boring,” she said absently.
Megan winced. Well, she wouldn’t want Ruby to lie.
“Obviously she’d have extra work. Online classes and so forth. Maybe she could attend school for half the day and do home studies the rest of the time.”
Dev sighed heavily and ruffled his black hair with one hand. Then immediately patted it back into place, because he despised the mussed look. “What’s the appeal of this place? I just don’t get it. For a getaway, sure. A short getaway. You see the mountains, you catch a fish, you check out the local artists gallery, you buy some birch syrup, and you get the bloody hell out.”
“Doesn’t it feel peaceful here?” She heard the pleading tone in her voice. Even though she had custody, they both had to agree on something so important. “The bay, the glaciers, all the birds…it’s so beautiful, and every day is different. The clouds are different, the moods of the ocean change—”
“Oceans don’t have moods. I thought you were a scientist.”
“It’s a figure of speech. But actually, thanks for that reminder that I am a scientist and that’s one reason I’d like to stay here. I’ve come up with a few ideas that I could research here and turn into a solid dissertation and finally finish my degree.”
“By taking tourists on bird-watching tours?”
“That’s a way to make a living and do science and be with Ruby. It’s perfect, I just wish you could see that.” They drove past a wetlands marsh where sandhill cranes stalked invisible prey on their stilt legs. Dev barely noticed the magnificent creatures, who always reminded Megan of women in bustles. Dev never noticed things around him, unless they were clients and/or women. “Why don’t you come with me on the tour today, Dev?”
“Lord no, you know how boring I find bird-watching.”
“You will not be bored, I promise. Being out on the water around here is always exciting. They’re calling for two-foot seas and a medium chop today.” She recited the marine forecast proudly. She loved listening to the weather reports in Lost Harbor. The prosaic words conjured such vivid images of whitecaps and twenty-foot tides.
“I’m afraid you might toss me over.”
“That’s not funny. Eliza would be very disappointed if I did that,” she added.
He chuckled. “Cute. Sorry, I’m going to pass on the nature tour. Besides, I’m going fishing, remember? You set it up.”
“Right. Of course. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come with me? Fishing can get bloody.”
Truthfully, she regretted calling in that favor on Dev’s behalf. What if Lucas sabotaged her efforts to get Dev to warm up to Lost Harbor? Not that he’d do it on purpose…or maybe he would.
Maybe he’d be happy if she left Lost Harbor. No more sharing office space and fending off the Forget Me Not.
So far she’d seen many Lucases—gruff, grieving, impatient, unpredictable, generous, confusing—but the most recent one had been surprisingly caring.
Maybe she should have a little trust.
At their next stop—a bakery to appeal to Dev’s outrageous sweet tooth—she went to the bathroom and texted Lucas.
She’d never texted him before and it felt weirdly intimate.
This is Megan. About that fishing trip with Dev. It’s very important to me that he have a good time.
It took an excruciatingly long time for the telltale three dots to appear, and then his answer.
I’ll wear my best perfume.
She snorted out loud. Lucas could be really funny when he wasn’t being…Lucas. Or maybe that was the real Lucas. Or maybe he was just a complex being with many different qualities and layers.
Just treat him like a real client, that’s all I ask. Btw, I spoke to Boris this am. I brought him coffee and some mealworms. Holding up my end.
He sent her back a thumbs-up. And then—
Mealworms? Is that real or autocorrect?
For his chicken. Didn’t everyone know that chickens loved mealworms?
Do they love fish guts? Got plent
y of those.
They’re not picky.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and she jumped. “Just a minute.” Suddenly she felt like a teenager busted for talking on the phone after midnight. But the truth was, she’d rather be here in the bathroom texting with Lucas than out there defending her life to Dev.
Do you have any exes you have to get along with? she texted on impulse.
Again came a long pause before the three dots appeared. 2 high school girlfriends still live here. One runs the fueling station with her husband. The Jack Hammer needs a lot of fuel. So yes I have to get along with her.
A smile tugged at her lips. She really enjoyed Lucas’ dry sense of humor. It could really sneak up on you. It would probably pass right over Dev’s head. Dev wasn’t attuned to nuance. He liked things bold and obvious.
Think of Dev as my fuel provider. That’s how important this is.
I see what’s going on. You don’t trust me. You think I might take him out to the deep water and dig up all your secrets.
Her what? That possibility had never occurred to her. Secrets? Why would Lucas care about her secrets? She didn’t even have any, except…
Except for that terrible afternoon at the university…don’t think about that. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that.
Another knock sounded at the door, more impatient this time. Better get back out there and deal with Dev.
Gotta go, she texted Lucas. Please make sure Dev has fun.
She washed her hands and hurried back to her ex. He was, of course, flirting with the cute barista. That familiar sense of mortification swept through her. Not once had Dev ever made her feel like she was enough, just her. He would flirt with the bread rolls if there were no pretty girls around.
“Let’s go, Lucas is waiting,” she told him.
“Ooh, you’re fishing with Lucas?” The barista wrapped up a fudge brownie to go. “Give him this for me, would you? He’ll know who it’s from.”
Cursing all men, especially the ones with dark hair and a wry sense of humor and a subtle air of vulnerability, she snatched up the brownie and headed for the car.
If Dev’s appearance was good for anything, it was to remind her that she should think very, very carefully before getting involved with another man. Ever.
Mine Until Moonrise (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 1) Page 8
