Megan laughed at the poor dog’s dilemma. Who could resist Ruby? Or Lucas, for that matter? And then Fidget did something that really surprised her. He ran straight for Megan and dropped the stick at her feet.
“Why Fidget, for me? What a sweet gesture. How’d you even know I was here?” She crouched down and gingerly picked up the slobbery stick. “You probably know a lot more than you’re letting on, don’t you?”
He fixed dark, soulful eyes on her and pawed at the sand. She tossed the stick for him and he swirled away in a rooster tail of wet sand.
Lucas jogged up the beach toward her. His pants were rolled up halfway to his knees and wet sand clung to his bare feet. For some reason she found the sight of his long, muscular calves inordinately sexy.
“Didn’t see you up there,” he called as he approached.
“I was spying.” Her cheerful joke drew a strange reaction from him. His slight smile dropped into a more neutral expression. “It’s a mother thing. I like to watch my kid when she doesn’t know it. Gives me endless joy.”
“Fair enough.” He handed her Ruby’s little purple backpack. “Her friend had to take off and I happened to be walking Fidget, so I volunteered to hang out until you got back.”
“Thanks. That probably made her day.” Ruby was now tussling with Fidget for the stick. “I’m glad Fidget’s around, otherwise we’d probably have to get a dog of our own.”
“No space for a dog?” His slate-blue t-shirt had a streak of wet sand across it. Maybe Fidget had jumped up on him? The damp patches clung to his muscles. What would happen if she ran her hands under his shirt and touched that hard flesh?
Focus. Don’t get distracted by this inconvenient attraction.
“It’s not that. We could find room for a dog bed. But I don’t feel right about getting a dog when I don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”
“Hey, it can’t be a surprise that the Forget Me Not isn’t exactly setting the nature-tour world on fire.” She attempted a smile but it didn’t last long. “We’ll see. The summer’s young.”
“Yes, but it’s over fast up here. Starts getting cold in August.”
“Which is when the fall migration starts. That could be one of my busiest times.” One could always hope, although last fall hadn’t brought her much extra business. But this season, she had a secret weapon. Trekking. “Everything could change after the show hits the air. Are you going to the viewing party tonight?”
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, wishing she could take that back. It sounded too much like an invitation.
And of course he pounced on it, dark eyes flashing a hint of jade. “Should I?”
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to be the star of the show. Don’t you want to see how many closeups you got? While surrounded by most of Lost Harbor?” She laughed at his suddenly horrified expression. “Or maybe you’d rather do your taxes or scrub mold off grout. Very understandable.”
“I don’t know. There’s always the chance of seeing you in that bikini again.”
Oh God. She’d forgotten about that part. All of Lost Harbor was about to see her in her swimsuit. Not her most attractive bikini either, because that one didn’t fit her anymore. No, she’d worn the faded polka dot top with the failing elastic. How much side boob had they caught? Had she lost her mind that day? “You know, come to think of it, I’m feeling a little under the weather. I’ll skip the group viewing and watch by myself with a giant bottle of vodka.”
“Oh no you don’t. If I can take it, so can you.” He reached for her hand and took it into his warm grip. “We’re in this together.”
“You were wearing all your clothes,” she reminded him. His hand felt so good against hers, so reassuring. She let her hand linger in his longer than she should, long enough so tingles spread up her arm and her knees turned to water. How good would it feel to lean against him? To tuck her head into the notch just there, under his collarbone?
She came to her senses and released his hand as Ruby came running up to them. “Something’s wrong with Fidget,” she gasped. “He stopped playing and now he’s limping.”
Closer to shore, Fidget lay on his side in a woebegone heap.
Lucas bolted across the sand toward his dog. Megan and Ruby ran after him, catching up as he dropped next to the miserable-looking pup. “What happened, Fidge?” Gently he picked up each paw in turn. “Glass,” he finally said. “A shard of glass right in the pad. Ouch. Okay, buddy, this has to come out. I’m not gonna lie, it might hurt.”
“Does he understand you?” asked Ruby.
“He understands something. Tone of voice mostly. We’ve been here before. He got a snout full of porcupine quills last year and stepped into a hornet’s nest before that. Magnet for trouble, aren’t you, big guy?”
Fidget watched him with a trusting expression that brought tears to Megan’s eyes. How could she hate a man whose dog loved him so much?
Face it, she hadn’t “hated” Lucas in a while. If she ever really had.
“How can I help?” she asked him.
“I need to keep him steady while I work on his paw. I’m going to bring him into my lap and maybe you could just, maybe scratch his ears. That always soothes him.”
He sat on his rear on the sand and cradled Fidget close to his body, between his powerful thighs. That position gave the dog no room to maneuver or escape.
“Ruby, back up please. If he struggles I don’t want you getting a toenail in the face.” His tone was light, but it held enough authority that Ruby scuttled backward a healthy distance.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Stand by,” murmured Lucas. He nodded to Megan, who gingerly reached for Fidget’s silky-soft head. To do so, she had to be very close to Lucas, closer than she’d ever been. Hyper aware of his magnetic presence, she kept her focus on the dog.
“It’s okay, Fidget,” she whispered. “Lucas will take care of you.” She scratched the spot between his ears that Ruby had discovered always made his tail thump. It did so now, slapping against the sand.
“Good thing my pocket knife has tweezers,” Lucas said absently as he touched the tool to Fidget’s paw. It bristled with attachments like a metal porcupine. “It’s probably the handiest part of this tool. Do you know how many splinters I’ve gotten out with this thing?”
“What else does it have?” Ruby crouched a few feet away, spellbound by the whole process.
“Anything you can think of. Nail clippers. Several sizes of knives, of course. A corkscrew. It’s a magical all-purpose tool, and I think you need one, Ruby.”
“I do?”
Megan shook her head in warning. “Her dad would never go for that, sorry.”
“Oh. Of course.” His hand tightened on the knife. “My bad. Okay, everyone, here comes the glass. It might be a little bloody.”
He slid the shard from the cushioned pad of Fidget’s paw. The dog yelped and quivered wildly in Lucas’ lap. Blood trickled onto the sand.
“You got it!” yelled Ruby.
“We got it!”
Megan noted the generous use of “we.” She hadn’t done much besides try to keep her cool so close to Lucas.
“You okay, Megan?” He was looking at her with a funny expression, as if the sight of blood might make her faint.
“Of course. All I did was pet this good boy’s head.” She scratched his fur again. “You did all the work.”
“Can you take this?” He handed her the pocket knife. “I’m going to dip his paw in the ocean. Saltwater’s good for stopping infection. Be right back.” He rose to his feet, his muscular thighs flexing, Fidget in his arms.
Holding the knife, still warm and sweaty from Lucas’ hand, Megan heaved a sigh of relief.
“Poor Fidget,” said Ruby.
Okay. Sure. Poor Fidget.
Stepping on glass, bad. Being carried into the ocean by Lucas Holt, not quite so bad.
Da
mn it. She really needed to go back to hating Lucas instead of lusting after him. Was there a Hate Potion Number 9 she could take?
Chapter Eighteen
After washing off Fidget’s paw, Lucas carried him to the bed of his truck and laid him gently down on the plaid wool blanket he kept back there. Fidget would probably limp for a couple of days but he’d be fine.
Not so much things with him and Megan. Something had shifted between them while he tended to Fidget. For one thing, he now had the fragrance of her hair lodged in his memory. Light, like orange blossom. But also spicy, like cinnamon. He’d inhaled a few times just to pin down the scent. And now he wanted more chances to sample it.
She’d been so solid during the whole incident. She hadn’t flinched once while Fidget whined and squirmed. There had been no sign of a panic attack or a flashback to another traumatic event. Was that because a workplace shooting bore no resemblance to a dog with glass in his paw? Or was it because Dev was full of shit?
He needed more information.
As soon as he got home and settled Fidget into his dog bed with an extra treat, he logged onto his computer.
He googled Megan Miller and shooting. Even putting those words together made him cringe. Hell, even googling her felt out of bounds.
Several references populated his screen. He opened the first article, from the Central Coast University Weekly.
Expelled Student Opens Fire in Admissions Office, read the headline.
So it was true. Jesus. He scanned the body of the article and discovered that every single detail matched what Dev had told him. Several injuries, no deaths, the former student arrested. And among the witnesses—Megan Miller. The article even included a quote from her. “I never thought that all these filing cabinets would save our lives, but they did. We used them as a shield and it worked. We could hear the bullets hitting the metal. It was such a terrifying sound, I’ll never forget it. We thought we were going to die. We were all holding hands and trying to stay as still as we could.”
That sounded like a recipe for trauma to him. Did she still hear that sound of bullets hitting filing cabinets? Did she get freaked out by gunshots? Especially during hunting season, it wasn’t an uncommon sound.
Even some boat captains carried guns but that was pretty rare. Lucas didn’t allow guns on the Jack Hammer. To him, guns and boats didn’t mix, but that might be due to his father’s habit of getting drunk and then threatening to play target practice with seagulls. Luckily, after the first beer he’d never remembered the combination of his gun safe.
Lucas read further in the article.
The admissions officer speculated that the gunman had been experiencing burnout. “He was a star student, very gifted. But then he started struggling academically. His whole life had been focused on getting into a good university. Once he was here, he had trouble adjusting.”
Thoughtfully, Lucas shut down his laptop. So what Dev had told him was true. Megan had survived a workplace shooting and said herself that she’d never forget it.
But did that mean she was so traumatized that she needed a babysitter? Or a bodyguard? Or a spy…or whatever it was that Dev had wanted him to do?
Fidget shifted on his bed and uttered a low whining groan. His paw twitched. The poor pup was probably reliving the pain of stepping on glass. Lucas brought him a bowl of water and set it next to his head so he wouldn’t have to move when he woke up.
“You okay on your own here, big guy?” He stroked his dog’s furry head. A whistle of wind rattled the windows. He glanced around the raftered great room with its hooked rugs and walls hung with hand-sewn quilts. His mother was just about out of space to display her crafting creations. The next rug would have to become a dog bed.
This wasn’t the decor he would choose. Back in Denver he had a brand spanking new condo with polished floors that he never covered up with rugs. He also had a healthy income that didn’t require managing deckhands, buying bait, or schmoozing with clients over coolers of beer.
He had a whole life of his own back in Denver. That life had everything he wanted. Freedom, independence, autonomy. No one needed anything from him and he didn’t need anything from anyone else.
Here in Lost Harbor, everyone needed him. An aging dog was just the tip of the iceberg. His mother needed him, the homestead needed him, his crew needed him, the harbormaster, random unconscious kayakers, even the goddamn ghost of his father.
But what did he need? What was he doing here?
The memory of the cinnamon scent of Megan’s hair floated past, as if carried on a breeze through the window, from down the ridge to the heart of town, where the movie theater was probably already filling up with people.
He got to his feet and followed it down the hill.
The Lost Harbor Theater had a raucous party atmosphere—probably thanks to all the “harbor rats” who’d downed a few shots beforehand and were laughing and chatting up a storm. Lucas had gotten there too late to find a seat, so he leaned against the back wall and tried to ignore the fact that it was sticky. Had some teenager about to make out stuck his gum back there?
He scanned the crowd, not sure if he was looking for his crew or the show producers, until he spotted Megan and Ruby a few rows from the back. Then he knew that, of course, he’d been looking for them.
Damn it.
Megan had twisted her hair into a knot held in place by a yellow pencil. Dainty little wisps clung to the back of her neck. She was talking to someone next to her—Boris, he realized. Without his chicken, for once. Would the poor man be able to function without his pal Anushka? Probably—thanks to Megan, who was listening to him patiently.
That was the thing about Megan. She treated everyone with the same generosity, even if they were…a little off in some way.
The delicate curve of her neck, exposed by her hair style, made his mouth water. What would her flesh feel like against his tongue? Would her pulse flutter wildly under that soft skin?
He shook himself out of his reverie and fixed his gaze on Ruby instead. With her black hair in two sleek pigtails, she was sitting on her heels and knees on the seat, rocking it back and forth to make it squeak. Megan, without looking her way, put a hand on her shoulder to make her stop. Instead, the stubborn child simply slowed her rocking.
Someone pushed through the swinging door that offered entrance from the outer lobby to the main theater space. It had to be someone not local because every Lost Harbor resident knew to be careful with that door. It was lighter than it looked, so if it got pushed too hard it banged against the wall with a loud retort.
That was exactly what happened. Bang. Megan jerked at the sound. Not just a slight jolt but a full-body shudder. Her arm automatically went around Ruby, shielding her with her body.
From the sound made by a door opening.
Jesus, she really did have some PTSD. At least a little bit.
Right away, she must have realized that she was reacting to a memory instead of reality. She played it off by patting Ruby on the shoulder and dropping a kiss on her head. Lucas could see the effort it took for her to relax and sit back as if nothing had happened.
Boris was still ranting away; he hadn’t noticed either the bang of the door or Megan’s reaction.
If only he could expel Boris from his spot next to Megan and take her into his arms, the way she had with Ruby. The urge to protect her, to soothe her, was so strong he had to physically fight it. He planted his boots on the floor and stood firm.
Where was this strong reaction coming from? Maybe it was just the natural protective instinct built into every human being. He had it—that’s why he’d joined so many rescue operations in Lost Harbor, starting from the age of sixteen. He’d nearly made a career of it, but left home instead. He knew very well that he’d been born with a strong protective urge. It didn’t mean anything about Megan in particular.
Or did it?
The person who’d opened the door strode down the aisle. Tony, the Trekking producer. “Sorr
y about the door,” he called to the crowd. “Who’s ready for a fun show?”
Applause accompanied him to the front of the theater. He faced the audience and tucked his tight dreadlocks behind his ears. “I want to thank y’all for being great hosts and great TV subjects. This is just a rough cut, and we don’t usually do this because we don’t have time, but I asked my boss if I could because you guys were so stellar and I wanted a reason to come back to Alaska. She said ‘yes’ so here we are. The finished show will air next week. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for all the fish.”
A chuckle swept through the crowd as the lights came down. The familiar Trekking theme song and opening sequence played across the screen.
“At Trekking, we travel to the ends of the world so you don’t have to leave your couch. Prepare for the adventure of a lifetime. Tonight, we explore the remote and stunning ocean harbor of Lost Harbor, Alaska. To reach Lost Harbor, we had to drive through several mountain passes to the very tip of a land mass that shelters the magnificent Misty Bay. On the far side of the bay looms the forbidding Lost Souls Wilderness with its icy peaks and ancient glaciers. On this side, the enchanting fishing outpost of Lost Harbor.”
The crowd erupted in cheers, then quickly hushed so everyone could hear.
“In this town of five thousand souls, life is centered around the tides and the seasons…but most of all, the fish. And in one case, the birds.”
A shot of Megan in her bikini posing with binoculars flashed onto the screen. “Meet Megan Miller, who wants visitors to know that there’s more to life than the next big catch.”
The camera closed in on Megan speaking earnestly to the camera. “I wish people here would get just as excited about an auk sighting as they do about a run of king salmon.” The images switched to beautiful shots of Misty Bay and the glaciers and flocks of birds over Bird Rock. She continued, “With birding, you get the thrill of the hunt without actually killing anything … We monitor the bird populations, which is very important during this time of threat to our environment.”
Mine Until Moonrise (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 1) Page 10
