LOST HARBOR ALASKA BOX SET BOOKS 1-3

JENNIFER BERNARD

FOREWORD

Welcome to the faraway town of Lost Harbor, where hearts are lost and hope is found on the edge of the Alaskan wilderness.

MINE UNTIL MOONRISE

 It’s a fine line between feuding and flirting. Ever since single mother Megan Miller first arrived in stunning Lost Harbor, Alaska, she’s been at odds with hottie boat captain Lucas Holt. Until one of Lost Harbor’s wild storms tosses everything up in the air, and a rescue becomes a passionate affair.

YOURS SINCE YESTERDAY

Padric Jeffers never expected to return to his hometown of Lost Harbor, Alaska—not after the scandal that sent his family fleeing. But once he sets eyes on the stunning grown-up version of his childhood best friend, his mission is clear: do whatever it takes to have her—and keep her—this time around.

SEDUCED BY SNOWFALL

Firefighter Nate Prudhoe and Dr. Bethany Morrison had one unfortunate “locked out of her house in a towel while trying to take a photo of a moose” encounter when she first moved to Lost Harbor. Bethany is sure they have nothing in common. But when an early blizzard hits, they’re about to find themselves Seduced by Snowfall.

1

It couldn’t be good that Megan’s passengers were singing the theme song from Gilligan’s Island—“a tale of a fateful trip.” Or that two of them were snoring loudly. Halfway back to Lost Harbor and they still hadn’t sighted anything for the tourists to write home about. She’d better come up with something fast, or her online reviews were going to be brutal.

They were just passing Bird Rock, where thousands of birds congregated in the summer. Surely there had to be at least one species that her passengers could get excited about. Guillemots, auks and sea ducks only went so far. Megan fished under her bright yellow rain jacket for her binoculars. She didn’t mind the way the ocean spray misted her face and sent her hair into a soggy, bedraggled frizz—but her precious Zeiss Victory SFs had to be protected at all costs.

“Stop the boat!” she shouted a second later. “I got something!”

The Forget Me Not lurched to half its previous speed. Her passengers slid across the bench seats, clutching each other and laughing.

Still captivated by the shape that had just caught her eye, Megan gestured an apology at her passengers. “Sorry, everyone, I get carried away when I spot something extra special.”

Luckily, her boat was an old tub built to ride out the worst Alaska storms. Her passengers were unlikely to go overboard, although the chances of springing a leak were essentially a hundred percent. Her boat pilot—she thought of him as Captain Kid, since he’d just barely reached the age at which he could legally captain a boat—had warned her of a new one just this morning.

After a quick check to make sure everyone was still onboard, she aimed her binoculars off the starboard bow. “This is a very lucky day, you guys. Do you see that blob of white just on the tip of that cliff face?”

Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing, to the jagged fortress of rocks. Waves crashed at its base, while seagulls tilted and wheeled above it. Their crying made a lonely sound, even though they were probably just chatting about the nearest bed of oysters.

“That’s called Bird Rock, for a good reason. Hundreds of species stop here over the course of the summer. Some of them nest, some are just passing through. But today…” She focused closer on the elegant white plumage with the black cap and deep orange bill.

“Looks like the entire cliff is white,” said one of her tourist passengers.

“Yes, there’s a lot of bird poop everywhere,” Megan answered absently. “You can smell it if we get close. Should we get closer? Ben, can we get closer?”

“Sure thing.” Ben—Captain Kid—answered from inside the wheelhouse as he turned the Forget Me Not toward Bird Rock.

“Mama, can I drive just this little bit?” Ruby piped up from her usual spot next to Ben. Her little eight-year-old city girl had a new goal in life—getting permission to pilot the Forget Me Not.

Not happening. Definitely not happening.

“In ten years, absolutely,” Megan called to her daughter from her spot on the stern deck. The tourists laughed sympathetically.

“Sweet saints alive. I see it. Is that…a Caspian tern?” one of them exclaimed. “Unusual to see them so far north, no?”

Megan smiled under her binoculars. Moments like this told her she’d done the right thing coming to Lost Harbor. These passengers—mostly elderly retirees with a passion for nature—were her kindred spirits. Where else could an entire boatful of people—okay, so she only had five customers today, but the season was still early—sigh in unison at the rare sighting?

The Forget Me Not was now close enough to Bird Rock so that she could clearly make out the Caspian tern’s ruffled plumage.

“Ruby, come on out here, I want you to see this.” She beckoned to her daughter. Ruby came skipping out of the wheelhouse in her brown rubber boots and her polka dot slicker and once again Megan experienced that overwhelming sensation of being exactly where she was supposed to be.

Ruby loved Alaska. She loved Misty Bay and the glacial peaks of Lost Souls Wilderness arrayed on the other side of the bay. She never got seasick the way Megan sometimes did. The cold didn’t bother her. She never got bored on the water. When things got slow, she curled up in the wheelhouse with a backpack full of math books.

I made the right choice coming here. Just look at that face!

Smiling, Megan held out her hand to Ruby, whose face glowed as she darted across the deck.

And then everything happened at once.

Another boat roared between them and Bird Rock. A cloud of cawing birds flapped into the air. The wake of the passing boat rippled toward them in a curl of white. Ruby’s boot hit a patch of water and she wheeled her arms to keep her balance. Megan flung herself across the deck to grab Ruby’s arm. Even though her daughter was laughing hysterically, Megan’s imagination had already conjured up the image of Ruby launching over the railing into the ocean.

“Hey!” she yelled at the boat. Through the spray misting the air between the two vessels, she recognized the culprit. Of course. The F/V Jack Hammer. Fishing charter to the wealthy. Her nemesis. Destroyer of peace. Ruiner of everything.

Standing on the back of the deck, a dark-haired man in sunglasses and full waders raised a gloved hand in apology.

Lucas Holt.

The first time they’d met, he’d rudely called her an “ignoramus” and lectured her about a “Boating Basics” class. Things hadn’t gotten any better since then.

Had she really just been thinking that Lost Harbor was exactly where she was supposed to be? It would have been absolutely perfect except for one person—the man pretending to be sorry for nearly capsizing them.

“I don’t accept your apology!” she shouted after the boat. Its stern seemed to mock her, the giant twin engines thumbing their noses at her. Had Lucas intended to mess with her Caspian tern sighting? She wouldn’t put it past him, even though he probably had no idea how exciting it was to see one.

Scratch that. Of course he knew. Lucas had grown up here and knew quite a bit about the wildlife. As he’d put it to her once—“the birds help me find the fish. The fish help me find the money. So yeah, I’ve learned what I need to know about birds.”

God, she hated him.

“Mama!” Ruby tugged her arm out of Megan’s grip. “You’re squishing me.”

“Sorry, sweetie. I thought you were about to go over the side.”

“I’m wearing my float vest.”

“Of course you are.” Megan wouldn’t let Ruby step foot on any boat without a PFD. “But that water would turn you into an ice cube in about twenty seconds.”

“The Caspian tern is gone.” The disappointment in her passengers’ voice made her heart sink. There went half her tips. All thanks to Lucas Holt and his irresponsible boating practices.

“We can hang out here for a little bit and see if he comes back.” Megan glanced back at Ben, who was busy navigating the wake of the Jack Hammer.

Jack Hammer. Was there ever such a stupid name for a boat? It had been named by Lucas’ father, Jack “the Hammer” Holt—someone arrogant enough to name a boat after himself.

Maybe arrogance ran in the family.

“But we have lunch reservations,” said one of the tourists.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. Lunch is included.” She waved her hand at the cooler that sat against the wheelhouse. “Juice boxes and a selection of healthy sandwiches.”

The passengers glanced amongst themselves. “Yes, but our reservations are for all-you-can-eat King Crab legs.”

“Right. Of course.” She caught Ben’s eye and jerked her head in the direction of the harbor. If she had her wish, she’d head the other way, toward the point, where she’d once spotted a Wandering Tattler and an orca had surfaced about three yards away.

But not everyone had her stamina when it came to wildlife viewing. Some people actually had lives, and lunch reservations.

Captain Kid, looking relieved, swung the wheel so the Forget Me Not headed for the harbor. He probably had lunch plans too.

Well, so did she. She planned to eat sandwiches out of a cooler with Ruby. Because at this rate, that was all she could afford. Unless business started to pick up, she wouldn’t even be able to fuel the Forget Me Not. It would become the Fuel Me Not.

“Why are you laughing, Mama?” Ruby tugged at her hand. “It’s that weird laugh when you’re thinking something mean. You aren’t mad at Lucas, are you? I didn’t go overboard.”

“No, but you could have. Thanks for reminding me. I’m going to talk to him as soon as we get back to the harbor.”

Ruby tilted her head up, her wide dark eyes sparkling. “Mama, he’s actually pretty nice. You just don’t believe it.”

“Maybe he’s nice to you, which I appreciate. But not to me. I’m going to talk to him, and then depending on what he says, report him to the harbormaster.”

“You already did that.”

So she had—and the sound of the harbormaster’s laughter still echoed on certain late nights when she relived the whole saga of her and Lucas.

“And I’ll do it again. Someone’s got to speak up.”

Ruby shrugged, losing interest. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

The Forget Me Not hit a swell and its aluminum frame vibrated with the impact. Megan grabbed the railing with one hand and Ruby with the other. Her binoculars bumped against her chest. “We’ll eat as soon as we tie up.”

“Pizza?” Ruby asked hopefully.

“Sandwiches. Lots of sandwiches.”

2

The Forget Me Not, carefully following the five-mile-per-hour no-wake rule, glided through the harbor toward the slip Megan rented. Before she’d come to Lost Harbor, she’d never imagined all the costs associated with running a boat. She hadn’t needed to, since she’d been hired as a naturalist guide. But just after she’d arrived, when she was still getting her bearings, everything had changed.

With only a few weeks left in the season—it was late August—the owner had gotten into a huge fight with her life partner, packed up all her belongings in her RV and offered the business to Megan.

Megan had, of course, discussed it with her ex-husband, Dev. Although she had primary custody of Ruby, Dev was still very involved in Ruby’s life. She and Dev had met in grad school—she’d been studying ornithology, he’d been studying business. Their marriage had been the only impulsive thing Dev had ever done. Megan, on the other hand, specialized in “impulsive.”

Just look at the way she’d fled to this faraway Alaska outpost.

Even though their marriage had only lasted a few months, Megan appreciated many things about Dev. He was financially responsible. He didn’t do drama. He loved Ruby. He respected their agreements.

They’d never gone to court to settle custody issues. Instead they relied on a professional mediator back in San Francisco. Poor Eliza Burke had the patience of a hundred saints.

Her move to Alaska had required three sessions with Eliza.

“I get why you want to leave the Bay Area,” he’d grumbled after they’d hammered out a plan. “But why does it have to be Alaska?”

“We need a change.”

She needed a change. And he knew the reason perfectly well, though they never talked about it.

“If Ruby doesn’t like it, she can always come stay with me.”

“That’s the thing—it was her idea. That’s why I considered it in the first place. Talk to her yourself, you’ll see!”

In the end, Dev had given his consent and offered financial help. He still thought it was insane, but Ruby had talked him into it. He was such a sucker when it came to Ruby.

Not that she was any better. As they passed Last Chance Pizza, with its deck overlooking the harbor, Ruby made a pleading face at Megan.

She rolled her eyes in a gesture Ruby knew how to read perfectly well. Fine. You win. Pizza with Zoe, the owner of the restaurant, was no hardship, after all. Zoe was Megan’s closest friend in Lost Harbor, the only one who’d accepted her immediately. She’d tried to win over the other “harbor rats”—people who worked on the boardwalk—with cupcakes and kindness, but it was a slow process.

They cruised past more businesses along the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor. Ice cream shops, local crafts stores, restaurants, fishing charter offices, bear-viewing outfits.

When Dev had done his analysis of the business environment of Lost Harbor, Alaska, he’d been very impressed. “They do an excellent job catering to the tourist traffic. The fishing charters in particular do very well. Can you transform the Forget Me Not into—”

“No.”

“But the ROI would likely be exponentially—”

“No. I’m not here to fish. I want to use my almost-degree in a way that allows me to spend time with my daughter. It’s perfect, Dev.”

“Fine. But I estimate you have about a twenty-one percent chance of making a profit.”

“Really? That actually gives me hope, Dev. Thanks. I figured it was more like negative five percent.”

“That might be more accurate,” he admitted.

She hated to say it, but Dev was probably right. Her main problem was that the cost of fuel kept rising. Or maybe it was that boat repairs were expensive and the Forget Me Not had more leaks than a salad spinner.

Or that she couldn’t steer a boat and be a guide at the same time, and therefore had to hire Captain Kid. Or that she couldn’t afford her own office and therefore had to rent a virtual closet in the back of the Jack Hammer Fishing Charters office. The receptionist, Carla, only answered the Forget Me Not Nature Tours phone line when she wasn’t busy. Plenty of potential bookings went straight to voicemail.

Or maybe her biggest problem was that her marketing efforts screamed “science geek.” Or that…but why keep torturing herself? Sure she had challenges, but what new business owner didn’t? The summer season had just begun—her first full summer running nature tours out of Lost Harbor. It wasn’t over yet. She could still make this work.

Miracles could happen.

The Forget Me Not bumped against the side of the float, which had a long strip of carpet fastened to it to cushion the impact. She jumped out and grabbed the bow line. As soon as the Forget Me Not settled into place, she wound the line around a cleat. Ruby had followed her off the boat and was doing the same thing to the aft line.

Aft line. She’d never even put those two words together until she’d come to Lost Harbor.

She offered Ruby a high five. Her daughter slammed her palm a little too hard, as she always did. Captain Kid came out of the wheelhouse and unlatched the gate on the starboard side. Together, they all helped the passengers off the boat and onto the float. The guests said things like, “Lovely trip,” “Too bad about that Caspian tern,” and “Where’s the nearest restroom?”

She was in the midst of pointing it out when Lucas Holt strode past. He’d shucked his waders and wore work pants tucked into rubber boots, along with an obviously hand-knit sweater the color of smoke.

It smelled like smoke, too—like wood smoke curling through crystal clear air on a winter’s night. She had a quick image of him kneeling next to a campfire, blowing on the flames, while she snuggled under a blanket to keep warm.

She shook it off. It was just a fantasy, because she and Lucas Holt would never find themselves camping together, anywhere. She’d rather run into Lost Souls Wilderness across the bay and take her chances with the bears.

Usually Lucas ignored her and her passengers. They weren’t his speed; they didn’t bring coolers of beer on the boat or boast about the size of their last catch. But this time he paused and cast a charming smile across her little crew of elderly naturalists.

“Sorry about the close call out there. I’m training a new guy. He still has a few things to learn. I hope no one got wet because of that bonehead move.”

Lucas had dark hair and dark stubble and dark eyes and no wonder she secretly called him Lucifer. But he was good-looking; she had to admit that.

Not that it mattered. Character was what counted. Not looks.

“You’re seriously going to blame your crew?” she asked.

A hint of irritation crossed his face. She hated the way he always looked at her—as if she was a frivolous birdbrain hippie chick. She had part of a PhD, for pete’s sake. But that seemed to mean nothing to him, even though she’d mentioned it more than once.

“Just explaining what happened. He got a little carried away. He won’t do it again.”

“I hope not because I have witnesses. And I’d really prefer not to go the harbormaster again.”

His dark eyebrows quirked together. “On the one hand, I doubt that’s true, because I’m sure it gives you a special kind of joy to report on me. On the other hand, maybe it is true because I hear it didn’t go so well the last time.”

She gritted her teeth together. Unfortunately, he had a point. After her third trip to the harbormaster’s office, she’d decided there had to be better ways to handle her feud with Lucas.

Sadly, she hadn’t figured them out yet.

“I am not easily deterred,” she said stoutly. “Especially when it comes to Ruby’s safety.”

Lucas smiled down at Ruby, who glowed back at him. Darn him. That smile changed things in an unfortunate way. If he ever smiled at her like that…

She sighed. Luckily, there was no chance of such a thing.

3

Lucas kept his gaze fixed on Ruby. At least one of the Miller women didn’t think he was an irredeemable piece of crap. “Are you okay, kid? I saw you slip-slide around that deck like a pro.”

“I’m fine.” The little girl’s skin glowed gold in the reflected light from the water. Her skin was darker than her mother’s, which had made him give some thought to who her father might be. And where. And what the mother-daughter duo’s story was. They’d appeared in Lost Harbor late last summer and no one had expected them to stay long. But here they still were. Still plugging those bird-watching tours. Still reporting him to Bob.

He’d first run into Megan shortly after his father’s death, when he was still reeling. He’d been a complete dick to her. He’d been a dick to pretty much everyone at that point, but that was no excuse. Later, he’d wanted to repair the damage he’d caused, but it was too late. Their adversarial path had been set.

Besides, it was kind of fun sparring with the pretty newcomer. Kept things interesting around here.

“Someday you’ll have to come out on a real craft,” he told Ruby. “Something that can go faster than a go-cart.”

“Really? Can I?” Her face lit up as if he’d just told her Santa was coming down the boat ramp.

“Any time—”

“Over my dead body,” Megan interrupted. “Sorry, Ruby. It’s not a safe situation.”

He snorted. If she had any idea how many times he’d snuck onto her boat and patched a leak that her baby captain hadn’t noticed, she’d lose her shit completely. “The Jack Hammer has a perfect safety record.”

“Not a single drunk venture capitalist has ever gone overboard?”

“Not unless they deserved it.”

A whisper of a smile sketched across her lips. And yes, of course he’d noticed her lips. They were full and lush, with an up-curve that disappeared when he came along. “You probably pay the Coast Guard to ignore all your infractions.”

“Now there’s an idea. Does it work? Because I think I spotted a problem with—” He gestured toward the water.

“Shhhht!” She jolted toward him, her eyes cutting toward the small group of senior citizens waiting on the ramp. In a rapid undertone, she told him, “That’s been resolved and there’s no need to mention it. It’s very unfair that you would even bring it up but I guess I should expect nothing less from you.”

He had no idea what she was referring to. Great. Now she thought he’d intended to bust her for some infraction in front of her passengers. No wonder she hated him.

“I was talking about the baby sea otter hanging out on the breakwater.” He raised his voice so the passengers could hear. “Did you all get a look at the little guy?”

She blinked at him, clearly trying to reorient herself. Man, he enjoyed surprising her. She so clearly looked down on him that catching her off guard was very satisfying.

“Oh. No. He was gone when we passed. We nearly, uh—anyway…” She turned to her passengers, who were listening to their back and forth with expressions of fascination. “Lunch reservations, right? Captain Crabbie’s is that-away. I recommend the salmon chowder if the crab legs are a little too creepy for you. I always think they look like giant spiders.” She waved her hand at the boardwalk while Lucas tried not to laugh. Captain Crabbie’s should definitely not hire Megan to do their marketing.

The seniors launched into their goodbyes and thank yous.

“Wait,” Lucas said when there was a pause in the chatter. “I have something for you all. By way of apology.”

He dug in the pocket of his work pants for his phone, then scrolled through his photos. He presented it to the closest passenger, a lanky man in a herringbone cap who peered at it through wire-rimmed glasses.

“Well, look at that,” the man marveled. “Fantastic shot of our Caspian tern. Did you take this?”

“I did. We spotted him on our way out to the fishing grounds. Got a video too. Anyone who wants a copy, just make sure Megan has your email address. You’re welcome to it.”

The joy on the faces surrounding him made his gut twist. These retirees were roughly his father’s age. But he’d never get to see a smile on old Jack’s face again. Not that his father had been a big smiler to begin with, unless he landed the biggest halibut of the day, or when he cracked open his first Shipyard ale.

The elders ambled away toward their lunch, and he turned to find Megan staring at him with narrowed eyes, hands on her hips. She wore her usual gear of rain pants and a fleece overshirt. Tiny diamonds of moisture were scattered across her hair, which was twisted into a thick braid. Its color landed somewhere between teak and mahogany, a fine woodsy brown. Other than her eyes, the blue of forget-me-nots, she had a vividly expressive Marisa Tomei vibe.

“That was nice,” she accused.

“Sorry?”

“What’s your angle? Are you trying to steal my clients?”

“That wouldn’t be very sporting. You have few enough as it is.”

A flush burned in her cheeks, and he wished he could take that back. He knew her business was struggling; everyone on the boardwalk knew it.

“Look, I spotted the tern and knew you’d be excited, bird nerd that you are. So I took a photo. If you don’t want it, no worries. I can just delete it—”

“No!” She literally jumped across the ramp at him, like a panther from a tree. “Don’t you dare delete it. My email address is Megan at Forget Me Not dot net.”

He punched in her address and sent the photo.

So he had her email address now. He could have gotten it before, but now she’d given it to him. Imagine the trouble he could cause with that.

“Is it okay if I add you to the list of boardwalk volunteers?” he asked innocently, hand poised over his phone. “There’s a dog poop cleanup day coming up.”

“Yes! Yes!” Ruby jumped up and down. “I want to clean up dog poop! Mama, can we get a dog, please?”

Megan gave him another look of death. “No dogs. Lucas knows that. He’s just mentioning dogs because he’s…well…I’m sure there’s a good word for it.”

Honestly, teasing her was almost too easy. And yet, still very enjoyable. “It’s okay, Ruby, you can play with Fidget any time you want.”

“Where is Fidget? Didn’t he go fishing with you today?”

“Nope, I gave him the day off. Barking at fish can really wear a dog out.” After Jack Holt’s death, no one else had stepped up to take care of his old Irish setter. One more responsibility landing splat on Lucas’ shoulders.

“I want to see him bark at fish!”

“And you will, when you come out on the Jack Hammer with us. Just pick your time, we’d love to have you onboard. You’d be a big help. You can handle filet knives, right?”

When Megan blanched, Lucas decided his work here was done. A good deed, mixed with some jokes and a few jabs, just to keep things even.

Megan’s phone pinged. “That’s so crazy, it took that long for an email? We’re standing about six inches from each other.”

He spanned the space between them with one hand, though he was careful not to touch her. Honestly, he was slightly afraid of how actual contact with Megan Miller might affect him.

She jerked a bit, as if she too was afraid of potential contact.

“Sorry, city girl. That’s the way things are here in the wild. We have to chop our own wood and emails take up to a minute to get here. Crazy, right?”

She rolled her eyes at him, then put her hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I know I should thank you for the Caspian tern photo.”

He tilted his head in exaggerated expectation.

“I…I’m grateful.”

He looked at Ruby. “Help her out here, kid. What’s that thing you say when you’re grateful?”

But instead of playing along with him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not falling for that.”

He burst out laughing. “Smart kid.” Sometimes he forgot how smart. Rumor had it she was some kind of math prodigy. It was easy to forget when he saw her running around the harbor boardwalk like any other kid.

Megan gave him an unfriendly look, along with a “move along” gesture. “Thank you so much for the photo, now have a nice day. Happy now?”

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, wondering once again what it would take to start fresh with Megan. She wasn’t exactly the most popular person in town. She’d shown up in Lost Harbor like a whirlwind trying to change things that had existed for decades. Not that all her crusades were bad—he’d supported her push for recycle bins and bike racks on the boardwalk. But he’d put his foot down when she lobbied for extra slip surcharges to pay for waste oil removal. She didn’t understand how hard it was for fishermen simply to make a living. Adding too many fees and extra charges would put some of them out of business.

“I’m heading in the direction of Captain Crabbie’s if you need a guide,” he told the crew of seniors. He offered one exhausted-looking woman his arm; she leaned on it gratefully. With a wink he added, “I’ll give you my card in case you ever want something more exciting than bird-watching.”

At a leisurely pace, they moved toward the ramp that led to the boardwalk. Behind him, he could sense Megan fuming.

What was he doing, poking at her like this? Her nature cruises didn’t affect his business. They were no skin off his nose. He was back in Lost Harbor for one reason only, and it wasn’t to spar with an admittedly cute bird nerd. It wasn’t even for the fishing. It was for his father. Even in death, the bastard couldn’t leave him alone.

No one else in the family was stepping up to deal with everything Jack Holt had left behind—the business, his mother, the homestead, the decades’ worth of junk stored there. Only Lucas had put his life on hold and come back to Lost Harbor.

Just lately he’d been wrestling with something else. How had a lifelong ocean lover and fisherman like Jack Holt drowned in the harbor next to his own boat? It had been ruled an accident, but something felt wrong.

Which reminded him that he had an appointment with Lost Harbor’s only detective. He already knew what she was going to say. To accept the ruling and get on with his life.

Too bad he hated anyone telling him what to do—another gift from the old Jack Hammer.

4

Megan kept a tight grip on Ruby’s shoulder as they wended their way through the lunch crowd at Last Chance Pizza. She’d discovered, since arriving in Lost Harbor, that she didn’t much like crowds. Living mostly in cities, she’d never noticed it because it was always there in the background. But the relief of being on the water, with nothing but the vast arch of sky overhead and open ocean in all directions, had opened her eyes: she didn’t like crowds.

Most especially after what had happened at the university exactly a year ago.

Don’t think about that. Moving on. Moving on.

She forced her thoughts into another direction.

What if Forget Me Not Nature Tours went bust? Would she have to move back to a city to get work? Could she handle the crowds? She didn’t know, which was one more reason to make sure that didn’t happen. She didn’t want to go back. Couldn’t go back.

Zoe spotted them and waved them toward a table in the back. Even though the little restaurant was mobbed, she showed no signs of stress. She still moved at the leisurely pace of someone who only did exactly what they wanted to do. Zoe did not like to be rushed, and if anyone ever tried it, they might find themselves out on the boardwalk with no chance of pizza.

Most people liked to hang out at the front of the restaurant where the brick oven dominated the space. But Ruby always loved the back because the large picture windows looked out on the alleyway that ran behind all the boardwalk businesses. It was like a secret village that only the locals got to see.

Zoe’s place sat between a shop that sold native Alaskan crafts and a fish-cleaning station. Several such stations were scattered throughout the harbor for use by the public, but this one—and a few others—was reserved for the charters. Here, the deckhands cleaned and filleted the halibut and other fish that their customers had caught. They packed them into insulated containers and handed the booty back for transport to the “Lower Forty-Eight.”

It was bloody, squishy work and Ruby loved watching the workers in their rubber aprons twirling their knives so expertly. Sometimes Lucas joined them, and Megan had to admit, she took a few peeks herself when that happened.

“I snagged a couple of leftover slices for you, you want?” Zoe appeared at their table with two paper plates loaded with cheese-oozing pizza.

“Ooh, yes.” Megan accepted them eagerly and set them down between her and Ruby. “I know I should be eating those turkey-on-wheat sandwiches my clients completely ignored, but this looks a lot better. Can you sit?”

“No, there might be a riot if I take too much time. But I had to come say hi. I haven’t seen you two in ages. Been busy?”

“Sure,” Megan said, not really wanting to get into her lack of customers.

Zoe lifted one eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

Megan bit into the pizza so she didn’t have to answer.

“Hey, it’s okay. Takes time. Did you put your name in for the show?”

“The ahh??” she asked through a mouthful of cheese. She held up a hand, asking for a pause, and chewed as quickly as she could. “The what?”

“That travel show everyone watches. I don’t even know what it’s called because TV just annoys me.”

“Wait…are you talking about Trekking?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Apparently they’re coming here to Lost Harbor and they’re looking for subjects to film. Shoot. Whatever. They want to follow people around with cameras for a day. They asked me and of course I said ‘hell no.’ I have enough business. Any more and my head would explode.”

Megan suppressed the automatic rise of envy. “No one told me about it.”

“Really? I think they wanted to profile one of our local fishing boats. I mean, it wouldn’t be Lost Harbor without one. I’m pretty sure they talked to Lucas. Why wouldn’t they? He’s the most photogenic of the bunch, that’s for sure.”

Megan’s envy turned to something more like bitterness. “Of course they would want Lucas. He’s the perfect choice. I can’t even argue with that. He grew up here. He’s gorgeous. He can turn on the charm when he wants to.”

Zoe lifted an eyebrow at her. As a part-Italian, part-Greek woman, she prided herself on her unapologetically thick eyebrows. She could express so much with those eyebrows: skepticism, curiosity, disapproval, excitement. “Did you just call Lucas Holt gorgeous? My ears must have glitched for a minute.”

“Oh stop. I never said he wasn’t attractive. I said he was a jerk. Don’t confuse the issue here.”

Zoe exchanged a knowing glance with Ruby. Megan found it infuriating and swiped her hand between the two of them as if she could erase that moment from existence. “Ruby, eat your pizza. You pestered me enough for it.”

“I don’t pester,” Ruby said with dignity as she lifted her pizza closer to her mouth. “I plead.”

And just like that, all of Megan’s irritation melted away. God, she loved her daughter. More than seemed humanly possible sometimes. “I stand corrected. Now eat.”

Ruby obediently guided the pointy end of the pizza into her mouth. She had her own technique for eating everything, pizza included. She had a three-corners approach; she liked to rotate bites at each corner, creating more and more sides to the pizza.

“I should have mentioned the show to you earlier,” Zoe told Megan. A customer was trying to get her attention but she ignored the man. “I should have figured you’d get overlooked.”

“Because no one likes me.”

“Because you’re new,” Zoe corrected. “No one ever thinks newbies will stick around.”

“Last winter doesn’t count?”

“Sorry, no. One winter is a kind of bare minimum base level commitment. Anyone can last one winter. It’s all a big adventure when it’s just one.”

It definitely had been an adventure, and to be completely honest, Megan and Ruby had spent several months of it in the Bay area. “Well, I’m sorry, but Ruby needed to see her father and—”

Zoe put up a floury hand to stop her. “Believe me, I don’t care how long you’ve been here. I’m just glad you are.”

“Really?” Megan blinked at her gratefully. Establishing herself in Lost Harbor had been tough—still was. Mostly she’d encountered skepticism and even some hostility. “I think you might be the only one.”

“Ignore the doubters. We still wouldn’t have recycle bins if you hadn’t shown up. And Lucas would have no one to argue with.” Zoe flashed her a wink, then sighed as someone back near the brick oven called for her. “I’d better get back to work. I’m training my twin sisters.”

Megan craned her neck to catch a glimpse of two dark-haired girls covered in flour and laughing hysterically. “Haven’t met them yet. How old are they?”

They’re sixteen and they’ve aged me about twenty years this week.”

Megan smiled affectionately at her friend. “You should come by for dinner and let us feed you for once.”

“I’ll do that. Hey, if I could get you a meeting with the show producer, would you want that? You could try to convince him that their viewers would rather see birders than halibut-hunters.”

“Could you really do that?”

“I can try. He left me his card.” A shout of alarm came from the front of the restaurant as a puff of smoke burst from the brick oven. “Can’t I step away for a damn second without them setting fire to the place? I’ll talk to you later.”

Not even smoke could get her to rush. With no hint of hurry, she strolled back to her station like a queen surrounded by her subjects.

Megan watched her with envy. As far as she could tell, Zoe didn’t have an anxious bone in her body. She used to be that way too—carefree and impulsive, adventurous. But that was before Ruby had arrived. And definitely before the—

Don’t think about that.

Settling in one place had become important to her, and she’d come closer to peace here than anywhere else. She glanced toward the next-door crafts studio. The owner was watering the flowerpots on the back deck. Behind him glittered the silver-washed blue of Misty Bay. The bay and the jagged ridge of snowy peaks on the other side—Lost Souls Wilderness—had a way of taking her breath away when she wasn’t prepared. All that extravagant beauty just minding its own business while the harbor workers went about their mundane tasks.

Sometimes she’d glance up while doing something basic like filling up her car and just laugh at the outlandish glory splashed across the bay like an artist’s backdrop. It was almost too spectacular for her eyes to take in.

Pulling her gaze away from the flowerpots next door, she switched to the neighbor on the other side of the pizza shop.

And there her glance landed on a different kind of work of art.

Lucas Holt cleaning fish. Lucas Holt without a shirt as he cleaned fish. The sun was beating down on his bare back. Holy halibut, did he have to be so bronzed and muscly? His head was bent over the white plastic folding table with the hose mounted to it. His rubber-gloved hands moved quickly and efficiently, cutting, rinsing, tossing bits to the waiting seagulls. He frowned as he worked; she got the impression that his thoughts were far away.

He was probably thinking about how much more money he was going to make when he starred in Trekking.

The worst part was that her parents watched every episode of Trekking. Maybe they’d finally accept her choice to live in Alaska if they saw her on TV.

But no, they’d be watching Lucas instead of her, and so would every travel hound in America. Would he take his shirt off for the show? Maybe he was practicing for his starring moment.

On impulse, she propped open the window and called out to him. “Hey Holt, don’t you know Trekking is a family show? Your cheap tricks won’t work.”

He glanced up in surprise, his hands stilling. “Spying, Megan? Or just enjoying the scenery?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I’m just giving you fair warning. I want that spot on Trekking and I’m going to work my ass off to get it.”

“Guess I’ll have to step up my game.”

“You will. I’m a very competitive person, you know.”

“I picked up on that.” He pulled out a handful of fish guts and dropped it in a five-gallon bucket. “Sorry to say they already scheduled a shoot with me. So you’d better get your ass in gear.”

“You shouldn’t refer to my ass.”

“You referred to it already.”

“That’s different. It’s mine. I can refer to it all I want. Like, kiss my ass, for instance.”

He laughed, gazing at her from the lower deck like a Romeo in oilskins. The sun glided across his bare chest picking out dips and ridges like an artist. “You trying to light a fire under my ass?” He paused. “I can refer to my own ass, right? You don’t have a problem with that?”

She had a problem with everything he did, to be honest. Perhaps because he always surprised her and that made her nervous. “I have no problem with that. Except it’s not going to work. I’m going to grab that spot if it kills me.”

Ruby crouched next to her, a warm little bundle at her side. Megan startled. She’d momentarily forgotten about her own daughter. Why was she talking about “asses” within earshot of Ruby? “If what kills you, Mama? Hi Lucas!”

“Hi there.” Lucas waved his fillet knife. “How’s the pizza?”

“You should come have some with us.”

Megan nearly panicked at the thought of Lucas sitting down with them. No no no. But of course she shouldn’t have worried.

“That’s nice of you, Ruby, but I’m all tanked up.” He brought a handful of fish guts halfway to his mouth and pretended to dive in for a voracious bite, like a pirate.

“Ewww.” Ruby laughed and squealed, and so did a few nearby patrons. Megan caught the sound of a camera clicking. Photogenic Lucas Holt was going to appear on someone’s Instagram.

Well, he was probably used to it. All the fishing charter customers took tons of photos. She’d even noticed a photo of a much-younger Lucas on the bulletin board in the harbormaster’s office—apparently he’d caught a record halibut when he was a teenager. Making headlines even as a kid.

She couldn’t exactly compete with that, could she?

“Come on, Ruby, let’s finish our pizza and let the fish surgeon finish his operation.”

“Fish surgeon. Not bad, Bird Nerd.”

Megan gritted her teeth and dropped the window closed. With Lucas, she always tried to get the last word and yet so rarely succeeded. He was almost as good with the verbal jabs as he was with his fillet knife.

“Mama, what did you mean ‘if it kills you’?” Ruby wore a worried look as she scooted across the wooden bench back to their plates.

“Oh, it’s just a silly expression. It’s an exaggerated way of saying I really want something.”

“Want what?”

“To win. To beat Lucas.” She laughed at how competitive that sounded. “No, what I really want is the opportunity to be on a TV show that could be very helpful to the Forget Me Not.”

She had to keep her priorities straight here. Beating Lucas wasn’t the point. Keeping her business afloat was.

“Couldn’t you both be on the TV show?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible, but Zoe said they wanted to profile one boat. If they only pick one, it will probably be the Jack Hammer.” She was so used to being overshadowed by Lucas and his charter business. He had the most desirable slip, the prime advertising spot on the Chamber of Commerce brochure, the most prominently located office on the boardwalk. It made sense; everyone knew the Jack Hammer and no one cared about nature tours. But sometimes she got discouraged. “I think that’s a great solution, sweetie. I’ll see what I can do. Now what do you say we go to the beach and walk off this pizza?”

“I wish we had a dog to walk,” Ruby said mournfully as they clambered down the scrubby path that led to the shoreline. “Or at least Fidget.”

Megan suppressed a sigh. If it wasn’t Lucas, it was Lucas’ dog. If it wasn’t Lucas’ dog, it was his boat. Lost Harbor was obviously Lucas Holt territory, and where did that leave her?

5

Lucas met with the detective the next morning. Maya Badger had been a year ahead of him in high school, and they’d actually dated for about three months—a time they never talked about anymore. She’d always been smart but quiet, and he never would have pegged her for a future police officer.

Showed what he knew, because she’d joined the tiny police department right out of school and worked her way up to lead—and only—detective at a rapid pace. Her quiet manner worked in her favor. She knew how to drain the drama out of a situation and get suspects to spill incriminating secrets.

But so far, she hadn’t been able to get Lucas to drop his quest to find out if there was more to his father’s death than the official ruling of “accident.”

Maya showed up at the Jack Hammer as he was setting out a bowl of food for Fidget, whose nose was already twitching with delight. “Morning, Officer. Nice and sunny today.”

“Let’s do ourselves a favor and skip the weather portion of the conversation,” she said dryly.

He shrugged and brushed his hands on his pants. “If no one in Lost Harbor talked about the weather there’d be a lot of silence.”

“No, there wouldn’t. There’d be endless drama filling the gap. I’m pro weather convos because they don’t generally go off the rails. But right now I don’t have time.”

“Do you at least have time for some coffee?”

He already had a pot brewing in his little onboard galley.

“Got decaf?”

“For you, Officer…” He gave up. “No. Sorry, I don’t think I have any decaf on board. I might have an ancient mint tea bag from circa 2003.”

“Pass. Thanks.” She tucked a strand of hair into her bun. Maya was one of a handful of African-Americans who had attended his high school, maybe five in a class of a hundred graduating seniors. He’d often wondered what that had been like for her, but even when they were dating they’d never talked about that. “So. Mr. Hammer Junior.”

He winced. “Thank God that’s not an actual nickname.”

“I could work on that. Spread the word in a few key spots around town.” She fixed him with a mildly threatening look. He’d always appreciated her sneaky sense of humor.

“Now that’s just mean. Am I really causing that much trouble?” He sank down onto the cushioned starboard seat and rested one arm along the gunwales. She didn’t sit, but kept her boots braced apart on the deck as the Jack Hammer gently rose and fell.

“Here’s the thing, hotshot. I investigated your dad’s death personally. I mean, of course I did because who else was going to? It’s my job.”

“And you did a good job. I know you did. I’m not casting doubt on that. You know that, right?”

“Not really. If you believed that, you wouldn’t be wasting your time the way you are. I mean, I heard you wanted to interview the coroner. He drowned, Lucas. He fell off his boat and drowned. He was extremely drunk. He was often drunk. You know all this.”

The sentences came at him like jabs of a knife. “I know this,” he agreed tightly. No one knew it better than him.

“So why’d you start up with this ten months later? Maybe I just answered my own question. You’re following in your dad’s footsteps. Jack Holt never let go of anything in his life, did he?”

“He let go of me.”

That came out starker then he’d intended. Her face softened. “He had to. You left Alaska. He still talked about you, though.”

His throat tight, he nodded. Fuck, why did talking about his dad get him so worked up? They’d fought until they were each bloody and bruised—sometimes literally. They’d fought until the rest of the family fled or put on headphones or blasted the radio. One of the things they’d fought about was the Jack Hammer. Lucas had never wanted to take over the damn thing. He’d left so he didn’t have to. Started his own business. Made a decent amount of money. And yet here he was, after all that, running the Jack Hammer. Fuck, what kind of idiot was he anyway?

“Did you ever think that maybe you’d be better off talking to a counselor than trying to solve something that doesn’t need solving?”

“Funny thing is, I have, Officer.”

“You don’t have to call me that all the time.”

“Detective?”

“That either.”

“I can’t just call you Maya. You’re an officer of the law. That’s requires some respect. You earned a title, right?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a pleased expression. “When you put it that way, sure, I’ll take the title. Officer Badger.”

“That’s both appropriate and oddly adorable,” he murmured, then winced. “Adorable” didn’t seem to go very well with the “respect” part. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. Anyway, back to my main point. People are grumbling. They don’t like being interrogated by a civilian. It’s awkward.”

“I’m just asking questions. I don’t want to put anyone on the spot. I’m just trying to piece together a timeline of that night. Who he talked to, who he was drinking with, who he was feuding with.”

“Your father had a dozen feuds going at a time.” With a huff of frustration, she pulled a black leather bound notebook from her pocket and scribbled on a page. She tore it off and handed it to him. “Talk to Nate Prudhoe. He was the first firefighter on the scene. First to examine your dad. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe him.”

Her exasperation gave him a stab of guilt. “This isn’t personal, Officer Badger. I mean, it is personal in that it’s my father. But not when it comes to you. I know you did a thorough investigation. I just can’t—”

“What? Can’t what?”

“Can’t get his voice out of my head,” he admitted. “I never thought he’d go that way. Not yet, anyway. Falling out of his own boat—drowning—it’s too sudden. That’s not how it was supposed to end.”

“This isn’t a movie, Lucas. Things end when they end.”

He winced at her bluntness. “I’m guessing you don’t do a lot of notifications of loved ones?”

“I’m about ‘tough love,’ you know that. You’re grieving, Lucas. I see that. But you’re starting to rub people the wrong way. Not just me, not just my boss, but other people around town.”

Lucas felt that familiar “Hammer” stubbornness settling into his bones. When that happened, there was no budging a member of the Holt family.

“Maybe you should give me a list of those people. Maybe there’s a reason they don’t like me asking questions.”

With a giant roll of her eyes, Maya flicked the piece of paper she’d given him. “Not happening. You talk to Nate, then you stand down.”

He knew Nate. They’d played hockey together. It would be good to catch up with him. “How about this? I won’t bug anyone. I’ll simply listen. Observe. Drink a few too many mugs of beer at the Olde Salt Saloon. If I pick something up, I’ll—”

“Come to me.”

“Come to you,” he agreed reluctantly. “I don’t like taking up your time, though.”

“You won’t. Because there won’t be anything. Because there’s no mystery here. No crime. No foul play. It was an accident.”

He gave her a neutral nod as she stepped over the railing onto the ramp. “Thanks for stopping by, Officer Badger. If you need any halibut for your freezer, give me a call.”

“Can’t stand halibut. Nasty flabby-ass bottom feeders. See you around, Lucas. Be good.”

“Yes ma’am.”

6

After Maya left, Lucas set to work on the right-hand eight-cylinder, thirteen-thousand horsepower MAN marine engine, which had been misfiring more than he liked. He unscrewed the casing and set it carefully to the side. His father had taught him how to fix engines starting around the age of eight. Jack Holt would crack open a beer and bask in the sun while Lucas took an outboard apart and put it back together again.

Occasionally he’d grab a part and toss it overboard.

“Now do it without that. Jerry-rig it. You’re out on the water, engine fails, what do you do?”

“Call the Coast Guard?”

“Sure, but the nearest Coastie’s all the way around Far Point and the wind’s picking up. You gotta get that engine going.”

“We have two engines. I’d just use the other one and go half as fast.” It seemed like a brilliant idea to him.

“I said a storm was coming.” That irritable voice, the crunch of a hand tightening on a beer can…

Lucas ignored the signs. “So I’d go into a cove or something until the storm was over.”

“Do you have to argue about every fucking thing? Fix the damn engine.” Lucas ducked as something went flying past his head.

“Hey, that was my lunch from Mom!”

“Yeah well, you can go crying to her when the job is done.”

“Hey! Holt. We’re heading to the Olde Salt for a quick one.”

Lucas jerked his head up, the memory of his father darting away like an eel slipping underwater. Three of his father’s friends clustered next to the Jack Hammer. In their fishing boots, flannel shirts and unruly beards, they were a motley crew. “It’s not even nine yet.”

“By the time we get there, doors will be open.”

Good God. Why was he even surprised? Many fishermen liked to drink, especially the older generation. Jack Holt had probably spent a million hours in the Olde Salt Saloon over the course of his life.

But he didn’t want to go against Officer Badger’s orders quite so soon.

“Sorry, guys, I just got into this engine. Save a spot for me.”

One of the fishermen—Lenny—peered into the cabin. “Looking good in there. Jack would hardly believe his eyes.”

“Yeah, I’ve done some upgrades.”

He’d cleaned and ripped out the moldy old seat cushions. Painted. Installed some new brass fittings. Mostly cosmetic fixes, but enough to attract a more modern clientele.

Old Crow, whose hair was still as black as ever, shaded his eyes and scanned the interior. “Hardly looks like Jack’s boat anymore. Not even his suitcases are left.”

“Suitcases?”

“Yeah, he was sleeping on his boat a lot before he drowned. Kept hauling suitcases down here. Guess your mom must have grabbed ‘em.”

“Guess so.” Suitcases? What the hell? Why was he just now hearing about this? Could that be a clue of some kind?

He should have invited the fishermen onto the Jack Hammer months ago.

“Catch you in a bit,” he told them as they headed off for their morning pick-me-up.

Suitcases. What could that signify? Mom had never mentioned anything about any suitcases, but he knew his father had been sleeping on the boat. Everyone had told him about that, including Mom.

Was he meeting someone here? Carrying on an affair? Smuggling contraband? Developing dementia?

It might mean nothing. But he didn’t remember seeing any suitcases when he’d first stepped onto the Jack Hammer. So it could be significant.

Would Officer Badger be unhappy that he had a possible new lead? Probably.

Was he going to see where it went? Definitely.

Something bumped against the bow of the Jack Hammer. He sighed. He knew exactly what it was, because the same thing happened every week or so. He climbed out of his boat and strode to the tie-up ahead of him. The stern of the damn Forget Me Not was kissing the bow of the Jack Hammer, the barest brush of wood against fiberglass.

Grumbling, he unfastened the line from the cleat and drew the boat tighter against the ramp. It wasn’t completely Megan’s fault. Their boats both needed bigger spaces, but an influx of wealthy sports fishermen had made summer slips hard to come by. But still—she needed to be more careful about tying up her boat.

He tightened the lines and coiled the end neatly next to the cleat. Then he went back onto the Jack Hammer and found one of his business cards. He wrote a note on the back and wedged it between the line and the cleat.

This time when he went back to work on his engine, he couldn’t suppress his smile. He could already picture the face she’d make when she saw his note, her woof of exasperation.

Forget how to knot? He’d written. Private lessons available.

He’d be lucky if she didn’t try to dump him overboard after that. This feud was pretty ridiculous. But also kind of fun.

7

If any of Megan’s friends ever came to Lost Harbor for a visit, they’d probably think she’d lost her mind. The cabin she rented barely had running water, and you had to wait a good fifteen minutes for the on-demand water heater to make enough hot water for a shower. For washing dishes, often she saved time by heating water on the stove.

The little cabin had one bedroom, which she and Ruby shared. It had no landline, and the power went out at least once a month. Even though it had a propane heater and a wood stove, during the cold months she and Ruby had bundled up in layers of wool and silk underwear. And still they’d noticed every little cold draft that snuck through the cracks in the walls, which dated from the 1940s.

But she loved it despite all those flaws.

It had one feature that made up for all those drawbacks: a view. Perched on a ridge a thousand feet above sea level, the cabin’s hundred-and-eighty degree view was better than TV. On clear days they could see all the way to the open ocean on the other side of the point. She and Ruby loved to count the glaciers and peaks of Lost Souls Wilderness just across the bay. They could even see the long arm of the Lost Harbor breakwater curling protectively around its flock of boats.

From here, the name Lost Harbor made perfect sense. Sailing in from the ocean, the first explorers would have seen spectacular mountains and glaciers and vast endless wilderness before they noticed the notch in the coastline where boats could shelter. Maybe they kept losing track of it, as the legends said.

And then there were the clouds. Megan could watch for hours as clouds paraded across the sky and cast shadows on Misty Bay. On stormy days they loomed dark like a horde of elephants stampeding through a gap in the mountain range. Sometimes clouds drifted like dandelion fluff lost in a dream. On certain days banks of thick fog would roll in, or whimsical wisps of mist, which explained the name Misty Bay.

The bay was always changing, and if Megan had an ounce of artistic talent, she would set up an easel and never move.

Instead, she usually kicked up her feet in a lounge chair and never moved.

She and Ruby had bought planters and filled them with oregano and rosemary. An old apple crate made a side table between the two plastic Adirondack chairs she’d rescued from the dump.

While Ruby buried herself in a new math book that Dev had sent, Megan took her mug of tea and laptop to the deck. Even though the tourist season had begun, the air still hadn’t warmed up enough to qualify as summer. She still needed a cardigan and fuzzy socks, not to mention her hot tea.

She set her laptop onto the apple crate and dropped into the chair with a sigh. Her to-do list lurked inside her computer like a troll. Check for new bookings. Answer inquiries. Update website. Pay bills. Ask for extensions on bills. Consider advertising options. Explain to her father why she was throwing away her almost-degree on nature tours.

She ignored all that and tilted her face to the sky. The air still held the memory of winter, but a tender warmth was just beginning to break through, like a green shoot through snow. And it was so pure, as if the glaciers had washed it clean as it passed across Lost Souls Wilderness.

Her phone rang. Zoe. One of the very few people she’d consider talking to at this moment.

“The Trekking producer wants to see you in action before he commits, but he’s open to considering you.”

“Really?” She sat straight up and planted her feet on the deck. “That’s incredible, thank you.”

“Actually, you should thank Lucas. He told the producers they should give you a look.”

A funny feeling settled into Megan’s stomach. She didn’t want to owe Lucas anything. He’d just lord it over her. “How do you know that?”

“The producer told me. He also told me that he thinks audiences will find it boring.”

Megan winced. That stung. “Have you ever heard of the concept of sugarcoating?”

“I have. I’m not a fan. I’m giving you good information here. You have a shot to get on TV, but you have to make it interesting.”

“Science is interesting! It’s everything. It’s all around us. Birds are fascinating, they’re like little dinosaurs flying around.”

“Yes, but this is a travel show, not Bill Nye the Science Guy. It’s TV, it’s visual. And a bunch of elderly tourists staring through binoculars is not visually compelling. You need a gimmick.”

“A gimmick. What kind of gimmick?”

“Well, you have Ruby. A mother-daughter team running boat tours, that’s appealing.”

“No, I’m not putting Ruby on TV. Dev would hate that. He’s always going on about privacy issues.”

“Well, you have to do something, because—” Another call flashed on Megan’s screen.

“Crap, it’s Dev. I have to take it. We signed an agreement never to ignore each other’s calls.”

“See that, in a nutshell, that’s why I never want a husband. I reserve the right to ignore calls.”

Megan laughed. “I’ll call you later, Zoe. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

She switched to the other call. “Hi Dev.”

“Hi. I have a free week coming up, I need directions. Why is it called Lost Harbor? Is it hard to find?”

She couldn’t hide her shock. “Wait, what? You’re coming here?”

“Making the arrangements now. I did hope you’d give up on that silly boat by now, but you’re still there.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“No harm meant.” Dev still had a trace of a British accent from being raised in India. “You know what I mean.”

She did, of course. After the university incident, she’d needed to escape, to get as far away as possible. “I honestly didn’t expect to stay this long either. But Ruby really loves it.”

“Then I need to see this place.”

“You won’t like it. It’s chilly and not very exciting.”

“I’m certainly not going to live there.”

“Of course you aren’t,” she said fervently. Did that sound a little too enthusiastic? “I mean, you could if you wanted to, I suppose.”

“I got your point, no worries.” His dry tone reassured her. In many ways, they’d had the perfect breakup. As a couple, they’d driven each other equally crazy, and neither had wanted to hang onto the relationship any longer than the other. The only catch was Ruby, and they both worked very hard to do the best thing for her—with Eliza Burke the mediator’s help.

“I’ve been researching some programs for gifted students that might be right for Ruby. Perhaps even for this fall.”

“So soon? She’s only eight!”

“She’s a prodigy, Megan.” She heard the pride in his voice, and while she shared it, it also made her nervous. “She needs to have the best teachers available. No matter how scenic Alaska, there probably isn’t a PhD to be found in that little town of yours.”

There’s me, she wanted to say. But that wasn’t a solution, even though she’d been home-schooling Ruby up to now. Her degree was in ornithology, not math, and she hadn’t even completed it. Ruby had already surpassed her in calculus. “She’s also a kid who wants to have fun. Dev, just wait until you see her here. She loves the ocean, she loves all the harbor doings, she loves the characters here.”

“That’s why I’m coming, so I can see for myself. But Megan, we’re responsible for her development. We can’t just hide her away in the wilderness and forget that IQ of hers.”

Megan took the phone away from her face and glared at it. She counted to five, then spoke into it again. “An IQ is just a number. Ruby is a person. We’re responsible for all parts of her, not just her brain.”

“Of course, but her brain is paramount. I’ll see you soon.”

After he ended the call in his usual abrupt way, Megan nearly hurled the phone off the deck. Dev was so highhanded. Of course Ruby’s gift for math was important. But was it the most important? What kind of special program did he want to send her to? Would it require leaving Lost Harbor? Would she be on her own? That, Megan would never agree to. She and Ruby stayed together, no matter what.

If Dev insisted on sending her to some advanced program somewhere, Megan would be right by her side. Forget Me Not forgotten.

But maybe Dev would see right away how happy Ruby was here. She’d make everything perfect for him. It generally was perfect, except for one person.

Maybe she’d get really lucky and Lucas would be out of town during her ex’s visit.

Ruby came out on the deck, her math book open to a page covered with charts.

“How’s it going there, sweetie?”

“Good,” she said absently and climbed into the other chair. Completely engrossed, she didn’t look up from the book.

Damn. Maybe Dev was right. Ruby had a mind for math and she deserved the best education they could give her.

“Honey, I just talked to your dad. He’s coming for a visit.”

“Okay.”

“He wants to send you to a program for math whizzes.”

“Okay.”

“He thinks we should sell the boat for scrap.”

“Okay.”

Megan sighed. When Ruby was deep in her studies, nothing could distract her. Megan used to be like that too, until life had interrupted with all its twists and turns. Now she got distracted by all kinds of irrelevant things—like Lucas without a shirt.

Lucas winking at her from the lower deck. Lucas lobbing verbal volleys at her while the sun gleamed on his chiseled muscles.

Why had he recommended her boat to the Trekking producer? What was in it for him? As long as she’d known him, he’d been a grouchy bear to her.

She’d never forget the first moment they met. She’d been docking the Forget Me Not on one of her very first solo trips. Admittedly, it wasn’t her best effort. A new boat was tied up in the spot next to hers, and it surprised her.

It was a slick charter boat with fishing poles aggressively bristling from it. Even the sight of it unnerved her.

She’d come in too fast, bounced off the float like an enormous pinball, and then jammed into reverse. Too late. She’d bumped against its stern hard enough to jolt it.

On the deck, a man had jumped to his feet. He was holding something in his hands, but she couldn’t see what. Everything was a blur—his dark scowl, his broad shoulders, his protective posture.

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry!”

Wrestling with the helm, she’d successfully brought the Forget Me Not snug against the float, dropped the fenders over the side and jumped out to tie it up. But Lucas was way ahead of her. He snagged the line off the bow and whipped it around the cleat in the kind of smooth motion that meant he’d grown up doing it.

“Where’s Carmen? Why’s she letting an ignoramus drive her boat?”

Every bone of her body had snapped straight. How dare he speak to her with so much scorn dripping from his voice? “It’s my boat now. Carmen’s gone.”

“Did you run her over?”

“No! She left. I’m taking over. I did take over. Forget Me Not Nature Tours is mine now.”

He’d stared at her for a long moment, then given a harsh bark of laughter. “Where the hell did she find you? Let me guess, California.”

“You have something against California?”

“Ha. So I was right.”

She waved him off. “The fact that I’m from San Francisco is irrelevant. I have a degree in—”

But he was already turning away. “I don’t need to hear your resume. I doubt you’ll be around long enough for it to matter. But if you really want to study something, try the Boat Basics class at the high school. They do an excellent job teaching the kids.”

That was the first time he got the last word.

She’d fumed for a good hour or two as she’d hosed off the decks of the Forget Me Not. What. An. Ass. She’d just barely bumped his boat. He didn’t need to be such a dick about it. Jack Hammer, his boat was called. Seemed about right.

The next time she saw Zoe she’d asked about the captain of the Jack Hammer. That was when she learned that his name was Lucas Holt—son of Jack Holt, who had drowned shortly before Megan had arrived in Lost Harbor. Lucas had hauled out the boat for repairs—that was why she’d never seen the Jack Hammer before. Zoe also told her that Lucas was a local legend as a rescue volunteer and had saved more lost boaters than anyone.

With her sympathy activated by the news about his father, she’d decided to be nice to Lucas. She’d brought him a coffee the next day as an apology for bumping his boat.

He told her he was trying to quit coffee.

She’d offered her condolences on the loss of his father. “Did you know him?” he’d asked.

“No.”

“He was a mean bastard and he would have ripped you a new one.”

“Amazing how genetics works,” she’d murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

“No, I heard you. Just wondered if you’d be willing to say it again, a little louder.”

She’d snatched the coffee back. “I retract my condolences.”

“And my heart breaks all over again.”

And that was the second time he got the last word.

Clearly he wanted nothing to do with her and her niceness. The only time he smiled around her was when Ruby was at her side. The rest of the time, he either ignored her or mocked her or publicly disagreed with her suggestions for the harbor and the boardwalk.

Fate kept throwing them together—the only office space she could find was at the back of the Jack Hammer office. The only slip available was right up against the Jack Hammer. Etcetera, etcetera.

So she’d followed his lead and switched to giving back as good as she got. It was empowering, really. Energizing. It felt good, fighting with him. Sometimes she even got the last word and a kind of fizzy joy would follow her the rest of the day.

Maybe…she jolted to her feet as a thought occurred to her. Maybe Lucas was pulling a bait-and-switch. A double-blind bait-and-switch. He knew the producers thought a nature cruise was too boring. By suggesting they give her a shot, Lucas got to look like the good guy. She would still get rejected, but he’d come out smelling like a rose.

Oh hell no. If Lucas thought he had this in the bag, he’d better get ready to eat his words. To grovel at her feet. Because she was about to shock them all.

She snatched up her phone and called Zoe.

“I have an idea about the Trekking audition. But I might need your help.”

8

The day of Lucas’ Trekking shoot did not start off well. His mother was in a mood. Even the Holt Homestead, which consisted of a hundred acres of land, three houses and six cabins, wasn’t big enough for both of them sometimes.

Janet Holt, whose primary passion in life was crafting, had recently bought a Tibetan yak with the idea of shearing it for wool. Yaks were supposed to like the Alaska climate—just like the Himalayas. But the yak didn’t get along with her cows, so she’d had to build a separate enclosure, and still the yak liked to secretly nip at the cows. Milk production was down.

He didn’t say it out loud, but to him it was no surprise to find one more feud on Holt property. Or in Lost Harbor in general, for that matter. Feuds came with the territory.

After ranting in her mud boots for a good half hour about the yak’s passive-aggressive ways, she launched into her complaints about Lucas. He knew them by heart by now.

Why was it taking him so long to go through his father’s junk pile?

Because Jack Holt had accumulated tools and machinery and supplies for sixty years before he died. All of it was stored on the property in case he needed it one day.

Why didn’t Lucas just move into the big house so they could rent out the other ones?

He was paying rent, a fact which she conveniently ignored.

Why didn’t he sell his consulting business and stop threatening to leave Alaska?

He wasn’t ready to sell, and it wouldn’t be so simple in any case.

Why didn’t he sell the Jack Hammer? They could all go on a cruise to Florida with that money.

He’d rather dive under an iceberg than go on a cruise to Florida.

And why did he keep dating tourists who never stayed longer than a few nights?

Easy one. Because they never stayed longer than a few nights.

It definitely wasn’t the right moment to ask about what happened to the suitcases on the Jack Hammer.

She’s grieving, he had to keep reminding himself. He knew the strange ways that grief could appear. He’d reacted much the same way himself. For the first few months, he’d barely been civil to anyone. He would have been better off under that iceberg.

Eventually he got his mother calmed down and drove his truck into town.

He stopped by the fire station first to talk to Nate, the first responder on the scene of his father’s drowning. He found his old hockey buddy hosing off one of the fire engines out back.

He’d always liked hanging out with Nate, with his broken nose and laughing gray eyes. But in this case, he got nowhere.

“I’m sorry, man, but he’d been dead at least half an hour before I got there. He was right there, next to the Jack Hammer. Current was pushing him against the side. I don’t think there’s any mystery there. I found an empty bottle of Scotch rolling around the deck.”

“What about a suitcase?”

“A suitcase? Might have been. I didn’t inventory everything on the boat. I was focused on your dad, and had to call for backup to get him into the paramedic van.”

Nate gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. He’d always been a kind soul. “I’m really sorry. I liked your dad. Had more than a few drinks with him at the Olde Salt.”

“What about the call to the station, the 911 call? Anything there?”

“A panicky call from Boris Clancy? Nah. He was riding his bike on the boardwalk and spotted the body. Badger interviewed him. He didn’t have much to say.”

“He never does.” Boris Clancy was one of the harbor’s most eccentric characters. He carried his pet chicken in a basket on his bike and avoided eye contact at all costs.

“You know, there is one person he talks to. I mean, if you think he might have more to offer.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“The new girl, the cute one with the nature tour. He likes her. I’ve seen her chatting with him.”

He meant Megan. A shot of … something, maybe possessiveness?… surprised Lucas. Why would he feel anything of the sort about Megan? He shoved the stupid reaction aside.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Was it a lead? Hard to say, really. He’d never had a conversation with Boris because the man always fled at the sight of him.

After that, he met the producer and camera crew of Trekking at the top of the ramp. The tide was almost dead low, so the ramp tilted at a vertiginous angle. The camera operator eyed it nervously.

“We’re getting a few shots from up here first,” the producer, Tony LaRousse, explained. He wore a thick down parka and tight black jeans. He was a twenty-something black guy with a mellow, seen-it-all vibe. “Not sure we have enough liability waivers to cover that ramp.”

Two kids carried a kayak past them, holding it over their heads as they loped down the ramp.

“You get used to it,” Lucas explained with a smirk.

“Sure. We’ll work on that. So which boat is yours?”

Lucas pointed out the Jack Hammer, with its bold, hyper-macho profile.

“Damn. It’s like the ‘fuck you’ of boats,” said Tony.

“Yeah, I guess it is. It’s got more horsepower than most of the other charters. It can go farther, faster, so we can get to the deep water holes and back in time for dinner.”

“The deep water. Where’s that?”

“Around Far Point’s the best fishing. Currents come in from the ocean, collide with other currents from the bay. You can find a huge variety of fish out there. With halibut, you want a depth of two to three hundred feet. So we have a few secret spots we take people to. I can pretty much guarantee you’ll catch something.”

“Let’s hope so, because we have to get this into editing soon. Crazy production schedule.”

“We’ll make sure you get some good footage—” He trailed off as everyone’s gazes turned away from him and toward the water.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” murmured the camera operator as he focused on something. “That’s how you get the eyeballs.”

“Keep shooting. We’ll worry about the releases later,” ordered Tony.

Over the steady hum of an engine—it sounded like the Forget Me Not—he could hear the beat of dance music. A party boat? Lost Harbor didn’t have party boats. Everyone here operated very serious fishing-focused operations. Lucas swung around to see what was going on.

The Forget Me Not cruised slowly through the harbor. Music pumped from the wheelhouse. On the deck, a sexy woman grooved to the beat. She wore a bikini top and cutoff shorts and rubber boots and looked sexy as hell. Her flowing brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. From under white-framed sunglasses, she grinned at Lucas and the camera crew.

Holy shit. Megan Miller?

He’d only ever seen her in fishing clothes. Baggy rubberized rain pants, waders, flannel overshirts.

Boots.

She wore the same boots as usual, but somehow the effect was completely different with bare legs.

Damn, she was sexy. Her waist curved inward in a dainty little notch. Her hips flared out—he caught a teasing glimpse of hipbone. The delectable mounds of her breasts nestled inside the cups of her orange bikini top. He imagined his hands there instead, touching that supple skin with its scattering of freckles.

“Who are they?”

They? Lucas dragged his gaze away from Megan and saw that Zoe was there too. She was going for the sexy look too, in a belly shirt and form-fitting workout leggings. He usually only saw her behind the counter at her pizza shop, and hadn’t realized what a va-va-voom figure she had.

But as voluptuous as Zoe was, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying back to Megan. She always presented herself as the nature-loving bird-nerd science geek. How had he missed the fact that she was also a radiantly sexy woman? Or maybe he had noticed, but had chosen to overlook it for his own peace of mind.

Someone turned the music up and Megan and Zoe started to dance. Megan beckoned to the crew on the ramp. “Wanna go for a ride? We’ve got room!”

The producer and the camera operator looked at the ramp again, then shrugged. “I’ll risk it if you will,” said the cameraman. “Wouldn’t mind mixing up the footage with something besides fish.”

“I like it. An all-female crew running a boat in Alaska. That’s a killer angle. Let’s go.”

Lucas wanted to point out that Ben captained the Forget Me Not, but then he realized that wasn’t true. Trixie Tran, who ran the best ice cream shop on the boardwalk, was at the wheel. He couldn’t see what she was wearing, but no doubt it was something equally sexy. Hell, Trixie had probably come up with this idea. She was the biggest flirt on the boardwalk—and he said that with all the affection in the world, since Trixie was a gem.

From the deck of the Forget Me Not, Megan caught his eye and blew him a mocking kiss.

He shot her a middle finger which he quickly turned into a thumb’s up.

She drew her finger across her throat and pointed at him.

He pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at her—the classic gesture for “watch your back.”

She turned her back on him with a saucy little flounce of her ass.

He decided he wasn’t going to win this one, and executed an elaborate bow, like some kind of courtier at Versailles.

She did a highly annoying in-your-face victory dance.

Fine. He’d give her this one. Let her think she’d won. Wasn’t he the one who’d suggested the Forget Me Not to the producers? He sure didn’t need the publicity. But Megan’s dwindling business bothered him. She worked so hard, and her kid was so cute. And Lost Harbor would be a lot duller without her.

Especially now that he’d seen what she hid under her workaday fishing clothes. The problem now would be how to get that vision out of his mind.

Maybe it was time to do a reset on things with Megan.

“I’m going to get the Jack Hammer ready for action,” he said, voice gruffer than usual. “Meet you on the float when you’re done.”

9

Megan’s plan had left out one crucial detail: Alaska was definitely not the right place to be out on the water in skimpy clothing. They’d barely reached the breakwater before they all had to put their jackets on. As soon as they left the harbor, the wind chilled them to the bone. Gamely, they kept the music going, and served slices of Zoe’s pizza to the TV crew. Trixie entertained the camera crew with stories of growing up in Lost Harbor. The producer filmed that part, and got a great zoom shot of the lost baby otter, but as soon as Megan explained the true nature of Forget Me Not Nature Tours, his eyes glazed over.

“I’m sorry, but when people think of Alaska, they want to see extreme weather conditions and gigantic crab legs. Everything bigger and wilder.”

“We saw a Wandering Tattler the other day. Do you know how rare that is?”

“No idea. Look, I appreciate the effort, and an all-female crew is definitely worth a mention.”

“We’re not always all-female. My regular captain is a man. Well, more like a boy,” she admitted.

“Ah. Well, no matter, we’ll certainly include you for at least three seconds. And we’ll put your website on the page for the show. That’s about all I can offer.”

Even though it was better than nothing, Megan’s throat tightened with a sense of despair. She could feel this opportunity—this chance to make a living in Lost Harbor—slipping away.

“I understand. Thanks for coming out with us.” She signaled to Trixie to turn the boat around. The Forget Me Not lumbered in a wide arc to head back to port. “Can I ask what charter outfit you’re going to feature? Is it the Jack Hammer?”

She couldn’t help it. Just when she thought she’d gotten one up on Lucas, he was going to walk away with the prize after all. And it didn’t even mean anything to him, that was the worst part. Everything always flowed his way. He was the king of his world and all she wanted was a tiny piece of it.

“Most likely, yes. It’s at the top of our list at the moment. Charismatic captain, tragic backstory. High-powered boat.”

“Tragic backstory? You mean his father?”

“That’s part of it, yes. He left behind his million dollar consulting firm to come back here and take over his dead father’s business. He was worried about his mother. That’s pretty compelling.”

Oh God, now she felt like a jerk for harboring ill will towards Lucas. What was that saying about being kind because you never know what kind of battle someone is fighting?

But how was she supposed to know if he never exchanged a friendly word with her?

She staggered as something bumped the boat. A vibration ran through the wooden planks, almost like an electric shock.

“What the hell…” said Tony, grabbing onto the railing. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” She’d never felt anything like it. The water had a normal amount of chop, its surface broken by only a few lines of creamy froth. Had they struck a rock? Had Trixie taken them over a sandbar by mistake?

An ominous quiet gripped the Forget Me Not.

“You, with the camera,” shouted Zoe. “Get out there and point at the water off the starboard side. There!” She gestured as the camera man didn’t budge. “Start rolling. Now!”

All that practice bossing her pizza peons around did the trick. The camera operator hurried to the deck and slung the camera onto his shoulder.

“There!” called Zoe.

Everyone looked where she was pointing. A slippery flank of polished black flesh broke the surface of the water. At a deliberate, hypnotic pace, it cut through the waves like a fillet knife through butter, as if water and fish were two sides of the same substance. Not fish—orca.

Megan automatically switched into nature tour mode. “You’re looking at an orca, commonly known as a killer whale, but there’s no need to worry. Orcas aren’t interested in attacking people or boats.”

She caught Zoe’s eye as her friend shook her head frantically. Right—this was Trekking. Cue the drama, the life-threatening conflict.

“That is, fishermen in these parts know to keep a wary eye out for these powerful predators,” she said in a hushed voice. “One snap of an orca’s jaws and an entire catch could be lost. They’ve been known to snatch seals right off the ice. Even though they’re technically dolphins, they’re called ‘killer whales’ for a reason. They’re apex predators who hunt in packs, almost like wolves. If you come face to face with an orca and he mistakes you for a sea lion, your only hope is that he’s not particularly hungry or angry. Or hangry.”

A muffled snort came from Zoe’s direction. Too far?

“Will they attack humans?” The cameraman took a step back.

“Not in the wild. There have been incidents in captivity, but never in the wild. Orcas are truly fascinating. They’re picky eaters, so if one goes after you it’s only because he’s mistaken you for something else. He will abandon the hunt as soon as he realizes his mistake. Orca pods are complex communities with deep family bonds. They’ve existed on this planet far longer than we have, about eleven million years.”

They all watched the orca’s smooth body slide through the water. The white mark on his neck disappeared under the water.

“Why don’t they eat humans?” asked the producer, sounding almost disappointed.

“Unknown. The Tlingit have a legend that explains it. A wood carver created the first killer whale and sent it off to get revenge on his brothers, who had abandoned him. But then he felt so terrible about what he’d done that he ordered the orca never to harm a human.”

Glancing at their faces, she realized that instead of amping up the drama, she’d done the opposite. She really sucked at this.

“I should mention that one of the hazards of boating in Misty Bay is the risk of a whale surfacing under your boat. It’s been known to happen in these very waters.”

The producer’s eyes brightened. “So are we literally in danger at this very moment as we wait for the orca to surface?”

Probably not, to be honest. Orcas were highly intelligent and knew they weren’t a good food source. But she could fudge it.

“Until we know where he is, who knows what could happen next?” She waved a hand toward the forested bluffs a few hundred yards away. “We’re nearing Lost Souls Wilderness, and the locals say strange things happen around Lost Souls.”

A few breathless beats passed while they shaded their eyes and gazed at the water around them. A breeze ruffled the surface and a cormorant swooped past them on black, hooked wings. No sign of the orca.

A small fish—probably a grayling—broke the surface and disappeared again. The orca had most likely moved on if the grayling felt safe enough to do that. But Megan kept that information to herself.

With a sigh, the cameraman shifted his focus to the majestic sight of Lost Souls Wilderness. “What can you tell us about that area? Why is it called Lost Souls?”

Megan glanced at Zoe. “Want to field this one?”

Zoe seamlessly took over in the same suspenseful tone she’d been using. “Alaska is brutally tough territory. Many of the early explorers died in that wilderness. Countless mariners and fishermen have been lost to the sea. Loss is a constant here, and the name reflects that.”

“But there are other stories,” Megan added.

“Such as?” Tony spoke in a tense voice as the cameraman scanned the harsh bluffs and deeply wooded ravines across the bay.

“Well, there’s a local legend about a native tribe that disappeared into the glacier and never came back.”

The camera swung toward her. She glanced at Zoe and Trixie, who were both frowning and shaking their heads. Oops, was she not supposed to talk about that tall tale?

She scrambled to correct her mistake. “But mostly, it has a metaphorical meaning.”

“How’s that?”

How was that, exactly?

“A lot of people find their way to Alaska because they’re…looking for something.”

“They’re lost souls, so to speak,” said Zoe. The camera swung to her. She smiled and picked up a slice of pizza for a nibble.

“That’s right. They feel like lost souls and somehow they find something here that speaks to them. Like, in Zoe’s case, pizza.”

Zoe batted her eyelashes over the slice of pizza.

Trixie joined in next. “I’ve seen it happen many times. People come into my ice cream shop—Soul Satisfaction Ice Cream, isn’t that appropriate?—It’s right on the boardwalk and we have both indoor seating and a few picnic tables outside—they come in looking lost and lonely and by the time they leave they’re thoroughly satisfied and riding a soul-sugar high.”

Megan bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“So, now we’re onto the product placement portion,” Tony said dryly.

“We have sorbet too,” Trixie chirped. “Our blueberries are picked locally.”

“Okay then, camera off. Nice try. The orca, though, that was good. You got lucky, Megan. Looks like you’ll be getting more than three seconds of airtime.”

10

All in all, Megan was in an excellent mood by the time she trudged up the ramp to the boardwalk. She’d left Ruby with Hunter, a boy whose family ran the Wild North kayak rental business. She found them playing cards on the floor of the office. Lucas’ dog, Fidget, lay just outside, his chin resting on his paws.

“Are you dog-sitting, Rubes?”

She bent to scratch the dog’s head. He barely opened one eye, then drifted back to his nap.

“Lucas said he’d buy me an ice cream cone if I took Fidget for a walk. We took him to the beach but now he’s tired.”

“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.

11

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 the 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.”

12

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.

But she didn’t seem to get the flip side of her proposals—that she believed they’d been doing things all wrong before she arrived. The community of Lost Harbor had persisted through nearly a hundred Alaska winters. People here knew how to survive.

“I don’t have a sappy look. I’m never sappy except when it comes to YouTube kitten videos, and you are the opposite of a kitten video.”

He snorted. “You’re sappy about everything. You’re sappy about my dog. You’re sappy about a random bird with a broken wing. You’re sappy about a soda can getting thrown into the ocean.”

“That’s not sappiness. That’s fury.” Her eyes sparked and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose seemed to glow. Everything about Megan was warm and glowing and tempting, like a fire on a cold night. “Do you know what those sharp edges can do to a sea otter if it tries to stick its nose inside?”

He pointed at her face. “Sappy.”

“Argh, just when I start to think you’re a human being after all, you turn right back into Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?”

“Oh, just a secret nickname I have for you.” A rosy flush covered her cheeks. “Sorry, you weren’t supposed to know about that.”

To be honest, he kind of liked the fact that she had a secret nickname for him. It meant that he took up space in her thoughts—even if it wasn’t flattering. “Maybe I need a nickname for you too.”

“No, you really don’t,” she said quickly. “You already call me ‘city girl’ and ‘bird nerd’ and that’s more than enough.”

“But that’s so generic. There are millions of city girls, but there’s only one Megan Miller.” He scrutinized her through narrowed eyes, various names running through his mind. The problem was, none of them were especially insulting. M’n M, for her initials? Flower child, for her eco-minded crusades? Hippie-chick?

“I’ve got it.” He plucked the yellow package of sweetener from the counter, the one that had represented the Forget Me Not. “How about Splenda?”

“Splenda? What kind of nickname is that?”

“A terrible one,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come up with anything truly Megan-bashing. I guess you’re off the hook when it comes to a nickname. I’ll just stick with ‘short-timer.’”

A stricken look came across her face. Oh hell—he’d managed to land on the one that actually hurt, when it was the last thing he’d intended.

But before he could take it back, she propped her elbow on the counter and faced him. “What’s this all about, Lucas? You said you wanted a peace treaty. Why?”

He hauled in a breath and shifted his focus away from the fall of her silky hair over her shoulder. “I need your help,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened. “Something to do with the slip assignments?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“You want to pass some clients my way?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ll consider that, but no, it’s not related to boats or fishing or anything like that. It’s about Boris Clancy.”

For a moment she stared at him blankly. “Boris? The old fisherman with the pet chicken who rides in his bike basket?”

“Yes. He’s…a little off, as you know. When he gets an idea in his head, he won’t let it go. And he decided long ago that he hates me.”

“Well, no comment about that. He’s always been friendly to me.”

“Exactly. He must like you.”

“I’m often catnip for mentally challenged men. It’s been a theme my whole life,” she said ruefully.

He would guess that she was catnip for more men than she knew. But there was no need to get into that. “It sounds like he trusts you.”

“Okay, so?” Her forehead creased in confusion, her face turned to his like a flower. For a moment he flashed on the sight of her in a bikini, dancing on the deck of her boat. That sweet curve of her waist taunted him. He shoved the image aside.

“He was in the harbor the night my father died. He was the one who called 911 when he saw him in the water. But there’s no way he’ll talk to me.”

“Your father’s drowning was…an accident, wasn’t it?” Her tentative tone made him impatient. He didn’t like pussyfooting around basic facts.

“His death was ruled an accident, yes. But I’m not a hundred percent convinced that it was.”

After a long moment of scrutinizing his face, her eyes lit with understanding. “That’s what you’re doing back here. You want to find out more about your father’s death.”

“Not at first, it wasn’t. I came back for other reasons. Find someone to take over the Jack Hammer. Deal with the literal tons of junk my father left behind. I need to make sure my mother’s okay. But now…yeah. I need to be completely sure there was nothing sketchy about his death. Beyond his usual sketchiness,” he added. “And don’t get that sappy look, because you didn’t know him.”

“Stop calling me sappy or I won’t help you,” she snapped.

He pretended to zip his mouth shut. “Done.”

“I have to say, that was oddly satisfying.” Her smile seemed to sink into his bones like sunshine. “So you want to ask Boris some questions about what he saw that night?”

“That would be great, but I know he won’t talk to me. Maybe we could meet with him together.”

“I don’t know. I actually know why he hates you, and it’s not something he’s going to get over.”

That was a surprise. She and Boris must talk about all kinds of things. “What is it? Maybe I can fix it. I can be pretty charming when I want to be.” He bestowed his most seductive smile on her, the one his latest girlfriend had told him was equivalent to a panty-melting neutron bomb.

Megan reacted to it, all right, but her panties stayed right where they were. She frowned at him with disapproval. “Charm isn’t going to cut it. He hates you because Fidget attacked Ruffles once.”

“Ruffles?”

“His chicken. His last chicken,” she corrected. “Ruffles passed away in March and it was a very hard time for Boris. His new hen is called Anushka.”

Lucas drew in a long breath. How had he stepped into this rabbit hole? “You know all about his chickens?”

“He likes to talk about them. It’s harmless.”

“So you both love birds. No wonder you’ve bonded.”

“You like birds too, don’t give me crap about that. I could tell from your photo of the Caspian tern. There was a lot of love in that shot.”

Was she teasing him? He couldn’t tell. “I’ve always wondered what tern stew would taste like. Anyway, moving on,” he said quickly before she could get too riled up. “If I compliment his chicken, will he talk to me?”

“You can try.” She shrugged one shoulder, drawing his gaze to the line of her collarbone, firm under her freckled flesh. “You have both recently experienced a tragic loss.”

“You’re comparing my father to his chicken?”

She pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry. That chicken was his daily companion.”

“Whereas I fought with my father my whole life.” Maybe poor Boris had it worse. He wondered if Ruffles’ death haunted Boris the way his father’s haunted him.

“Anyway, it was a very tough time for him,” Megan said. “The fact that Fidget attacked Ruffles really weighs on him. He kind of blames your whole family because no one ever apologized.”

“He wants an official Holt family apology? He’ll get it. Is that enough? Will he talk to me if I apologize?”

“I have no idea, but it might be worth a try. Or, if you like, I can try to bring up the topic.”

“Great.” He liked that plan, since it didn’t involve bonding over dead chickens.

“Wait.” She rested a hand on his arm. Tanned and capable, its light weight sent warmth through his veins. “What do I get out of this peace treaty? There has to be a quid for the quo in here somewhere.”

“Name your quid. Anything you like. Dinner sometime?” That slipped out before he even realized it. Dinner? That sounded disturbingly as if he’d just asked her out. He hadn’t intended to do that. Going out with Megan would bring all kinds of complications. Not that he even wanted to date her. Or maybe he did, because the words had come out of his mouth without any forethought.

But it would be a bad idea. He only dated tourists who were just passing through. He didn’t like to be talked about. If he and Megan got together, after all their battles, it would be topic number one for the entire summer.

But how could he take it back without insulting her?

“You and Ruby, of course,” he added smoothly. “Ice cream cones for all.”

Her eyebrow arched ironically, as if she’d understood his entire silent thought process. “Nice save. Don’t worry, I have no need to go to dinner with you, with or without Ruby.”

Ouch. That stung, to be honest. Why did he keep misstepping with this woman? “A favor to be named later, then. Unless there’s something now that you’d like?”

She twisted her mouth to the side as she considered. “I’ll take the favor to be named later. I’m sure you’ll be useful at some point.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “That’s the sort of ringing endorsement a guy just can’t get enough of.”

She laughed, and their eyes met and held. A sweet kind of energy flowed between them, drawing him to her like a current. His breath hitched. He felt himself harden painfully.

So he was attracted to her. He’d suspected it, denied it, but right now, he couldn’t lie to himself. He had it bad for Megan Miller, bird nerd and city girl.

She cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “I’ll text you after I feel things out with Boris.”

“Good. Sounds good. You have my number?”

“Somewhere.” She sounded just as rattled as he felt. At least it cut both ways. “And you have my email address.”

“Yup.” He grabbed his mug, gathered hers as well, and took them both to the bin for dirty dishes. With his back to her, he had a chance to wrestle his erection under control. When he turned around again, he took the time to steel himself against her mouthwatering curves and teasing smile. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

He knew he sounded rude, like the Lucas Holt who had spoken to her with such hostility when she first bumped his boat. It was probably better that way. And a whole hell of a lot safer.

13

Sweet mother of pearl, what the heck had she said or done? Just when things were finally settling into friendly mode with Lucas, he’d shut down. Didn’t he understand that his icy attitude was exactly what scared someone like Boris? Boris was a sensitive soul. Lucas’ dark and frowning demeanor would frighten him.

A kind word and a smile would go a long way—especially his outrageously charming smile—but would Lucas remember that or would he revert to his old self? She’d better talk to Boris on her own first.

While Lucas paid for their coffees—she didn’t protest, since she’d apparently forgotten her wallet on the Forget Me Not—she wandered out onto the boardwalk. A brisk wind cut across from the ocean side and she wished she had her fleece with her. A tourist on a rented beach cruiser bike veered past her. She felt a moment of pride—those bike rentals had been her idea.

She was dodging a kid on a skateboard when she heard Ruby calling her. “Mama! Mama!”

Turning back to the harbor side of the boardwalk, she spotted her daughter racing through the crowds. In her shorts and sneakers, with a t-shirt that read “Forget Me Not Nature Tours. Unforgettable adventures, she darted past strolling pedestrians and a raven perched on the railing. Megan’s entire heart turned to sunshine at the sight of her little girl. She’s so happy here. I have to make this work.

And then—Ruby tripped over a crack between two boards and suddenly she was flying headfirst through the air, launching like a rocket right toward a planter of petunias.

Megan darted forward, nearly tripping herself as she raced toward her daughter. Her panic gave her wings; she felt as if she could run a hundred miles an hour or fold time like a tesseract if she had to.

But before she could reach Ruby, a hand plucked her from the air and snatched her upright. Lucas. Ruby clung to his arm, completely rattled. “Are…what…Mama?”

Megan landed next to her—it felt literally as if she’d flown there from the terrace with the chessboard—and crouched next to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. The ground was right under my face and then it wasn’t.” She wrinkled her nose and looked up at Lucas, who still had a hand on her upper arm. “How’d you do that?”

“Easy. I couldn’t have you ruining those purple petunias.” He winked at her little girl. Even though he made light of it, Megan saw the same panic in his eyes that she’d just experienced.

“Thank you, Lucas.” Her heart was still racing. “I could already see the scraped knees and bloody elbows.” She turned to Ruby. “This is why you don’t run on the boardwalk, Ruby. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“But—”

“No buts. You saw what just almost happened. No ‘buts’. ” She held up her hand in a “solemn vow” gesture. “Promise not to run on the boardwalk anymore. Or I’ll find you a babysitter who never leaves the cabin.”

Ruby held up her hand to match Megan’s. “I promise, but we tried to call you from Hunter’s and you didn’t answer.”

Megan grabbed her phone from her back pocket and saw that she’d missed three calls from Ruby. She’d been so distracted by Lucas and their conversation that she hadn’t even noticed her phone buzzing. A new worry took hold. “Is there an emergency? What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Still trying to catch her breath, she scrambled for the right words. “It’s Dad.”

Megan went cold. “What about him? Is he okay?”

“He’s here.”

Ruby flung her arm to gesture behind her. And there was Dev, strolling down the boardwalk, looking completely out of place in his superfine wool overcoat. It set off his deep bronze skin and horn-rimmed glasses, as if he’d wandered out of a commercial for thousand-dollar Swiss watches.

Vaguely, she was aware of Lucas shifting his focus toward Dev as well. Of all people to be the first to encounter her ex, why did it have to be Lucas? Why not an actual friend, like Zoe? Or Boris with his chicken?

“Dev! You didn’t tell me you were coming today. Why didn’t you give me a heads up? I would have picked you up at the airport.” Babbling. She was babbling.

“There’s an airport?”

“Of course there’s an—How did you get here if it wasn’t by plane?”

“Helicopter. It dropped me off at some kind of toy airstrip.”

“That’s the airport.”

“The pride of Lost Harbor,” added Lucas. He stuck out his hand. “Lucas Holt. I take it you’re this fine young lady’s father?”

“Yes, that’s my claim to fame. Dev Siddhwarma.”

“My name is Ruby Vashti Miller Siddhwarma,” said Ruby proudly. “You should try to say it, but you might have to practice.”

“Ruby Vashti Muller Siddhwarma,” said Lucas promptly. “Oops, I got the Miller wrong.”

Everyone laughed. Bless Lucas for making this encounter a little less awkward than she’d feared.

“Well done,” said Dev, offering his hand. A businessman to the core, he never missed an opportunity to schmooze a new acquaintance. “Are you a local here?”

“Born and raised.” Lucas gestured toward the bristling masts of the harbor. “Family fishing charter business. I should really get back to it.”

For some strange reason, Megan didn’t want him to leave. With Lucas here, she felt anchored to Lost Harbor, whereas Dev had a way of making her feel frivolous and insubstantial. He always saw her passions and plans as whims that would blow over.

“Good to meet you. Maybe I’ll book a trip on that charter of yours.”

“We’re pretty busy this time of year.” Lucas shot Megan a noncommittal glance, as if he was trying to figure out where she stood on the Dev-goes-fishing-with-Lucas idea.

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. But maybe it would be a relief to get Dev out of her hair for a while.

“You do owe me a favor,” she pointed out.

“Good point. Name the day, we’ll make it happen. Welcome to Lost Harbor, Dev.” He nodded to the three of them and headed off down the boardwalk to the Jack Hammer office.

Ruby straightened her t-shirt, which had gotten twisted during her near-fall into the petunias. “What should we show him first, Mama? How about the beach with the starfish? Or the ice cream shop? Or the baby otter?”

Dev laughed at her enthusiasm, while Megan snuck a glance at the departing rear end of Lucas Holt.

She hid her sigh at the terrible timing of Dev’s arrival. Had Lucas maybe-nearly-possibly invited her to dinner?

Nothing ruined a moment like an ex-husband showing up.

14

Lucas employed three deckhands who worked on rotating shifts, an office manager who handled billing and shipping, and a receptionist who took bookings and posted occasional photos on social media. Right now, every single one of his employees was getting on his nerves.

He hadn’t been this irritable since he’d first come back to Lost Harbor.

Bad time for a staff meeting.

He leaned against the reception desk in the Jack Hammer Fishing Charters boardwalk office and massaged his left temple. A tiny jack hammer of his own was pounding away in there.

He blamed Megan. Or her ex-husband. Or both. He eyed the tiny closet-size area that she rented from him for her office space. It was dark and empty. She was probably off somewhere with her ex.

“Thanks for coming in, everyone. The summer’s about to really get going and things are gonna get busy. I wanted to get us all on the same page before the craziness hits. Any issues? Any recommendations? I brought donuts so speak freely.” He gestured at the box he’d grabbed at Safeway on the way in.

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.