Lost Harbor, Alaska

Chapter 4

Shuri turned out to be a dog. A pretty damn large dog, who sat on its haunches outside Ian’s car as if politely waiting for an invitation. The woman named Chrissie, one hand on the dog’s collar, looked between Ian and Bo. “This is Shuri. She’s a very well-behaved yellow lab. She’s a calm and gentle sweetheart. Are either of you allergic to dogs?”

Not allergic, but also not crazy about getting dog hair in his car. As a surgeon, Dr. Ian Finnegan was meticulous about his surroundings. Or maybe—as Bo kept telling him—it was because he was an OCD control freak.

“I have a blanket for her,” Chrissie said quickly. “She can curl up on that. I promise she’s good in cars. She only threw up a few times on the trip up.” At Ian’s automatic reaction, she added, “I’m kidding. She has issues, but they’re more about bumping into walls. She doesn’t have the best depth perception. But she’s an excellent road-tripper, so long as you don’t ask her to navigate.”

Bo was grinning widely. “You’re funny.”

“Thank you.” She met Ian’s gaze. “Is it okay? I can find another ride if it’s not. Don’t worry about that.”

He had no doubt that she could. There was something…irresistible about her. Like a wind ruffling the surface of Misty Bay. The water couldn’t help reacting, and neither could he in the face of her charm. She had sparkling blue eyes and windswept blond hair, a quick smile, fine-grained skin and a crescent-shaped scar next to her mouth. Not the kind of thing he would normally notice, that scar, but they had kissed, after all.

Not kissed, just touched their mouths together due to exigent circumstances, he corrected himself. Important distinction to keep in mind.

“It’s fine,” he told her.

Chrissie’s face lit up in a blazing smile. He blinked, as if the sun was getting in his eyes again. She spread a blanket over one half of the backseat and then stepped back to help Shuri inside. The dog scrambled awkwardly onto the seat, making Ian wince at the thought of those toenails digging into the leather. Toenails? Paw-nails? What was the right term? He’d never owned a dog, since he’d been laser-focused on neurosurgery his entire adult life and had never had time for anything more than the occasional cat-sitting.

Maybe if he’d had a pet, he’d be more prepared to be Bo’s adult-in-charge. The kid ran circles around him. Then again, Bo wasn’t really a kid; he was nineteen and his own person. At his age, his neurons were all firing at peak efficiency. No wonder an ancient thirty-seven-year-old like himself couldn’t keep up.

After getting Shuri settled, Chrissie disappeared again, then returned dragging a single large suitcase across the snow. “Is there any extra room in your trunk? Otherwise I can hold this on my lap.”

“Are you moving in?” he asked dryly. “It was just a kiss, not a proposal.”

Bo let out a belly laugh. “Jokes, Uncle Ian. Keep it up, dude.”

A smile quivered in the corner of Chrissie’s lips. “Believe me, I have no intention of moving in anywhere in Alaska. You can rest easy on that point.”

He popped the trunk for her, and she disappeared behind the car. What was her problem with Alaska? he wondered. There must be a story there. In the seven years he’d been living here, the magnificence and isolation had settled into his bones. It suited him, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now.

But it wasn’t his problem. He had enough of his own. Starting with the kid in the passenger seat next to him.

Had he made a mistake, inviting Bo to Alaska? Elinor had been worried about his aimlessness and lack of job prospects. Ian had mentioned something about there being plenty of work in Alaska, and the next thing he knew, he’d been buying Bo a ticket.

And it wasn’t even summer yet. It was only March. Bo had arrived a week ago, and Ian had quickly realized that Anchorage wasn’t the right place for the two of them. Bo wanted adventure, not another city. Lost Harbor was a much better choice, especially once the boardwalk opened up for the summer. Bo could wait tables, process fish, scoop ice cream. His nephew would fit right in at one of the coffee shops where the teenagers hung out.

Like the one Gretel Morrison ran.

Thinking about her still hurt just a bit, so he shifted his attention away from that topic. Overcoming his infatuation with Gretel had taken all his mental powers—but he’d done it. Maybe he should offer a course at the hospital. Train your Brain: Understanding that Love is Nothing More than a Neurochemical Illusion.

Train your Brain: Understanding that Love is Nothing More than a Neurochemical Illusion.“Uncle Ian? Are you thinking of another joke? Don’t hurt yourself, my man.”

He realized he’d been chuckling out loud at his course idea. “I tell jokes,” he said, a bit stiffly. “It’s not unusual.”

“Really? Mom says you’re all about work and have no time for anything social. She says I should leave you alone as much as possible because what you do is extremely important and lives depend on you.”

“That’s…flattering.”

Ian’s family always referred to him like that, as if he was a workaholic machine of some kind. As if he didn’t have regular human emotions. Which was absurd. Just because he didn’t indulge them in the same way didn’t mean he didn’t have them.

“But I told her she doesn’t really know you,” Bo was saying. “You’re a lot more rad than she says you are.”

“Thanks? I guess?”

“You’re welcome, Uncle Ian. Don’t worry, I’ll always defend you. You’re the only one in the family who’s abby-normal like me.”

Bo aimed a happy smile at him. Was the kid wearing eyeliner or were his eyes just naturally dark-rimmed? Was that normal for boys of his age? Or abby-normal, whatever that meant? Ian had no idea. He saw all kinds of young people in his work, but he didn’t pay attention to such things. He could analyze every aspect of a patient’s MRI before he could describe their appearance.

Chrissie slid into the backseat of the car. She brought a whiff of freshness with her, a combination of the icy mist suspended in the outside air and something floral. Shampoo perhaps, or hand lotion.

He shifted his focus from thinking about her hair to the road ahead. The sun had dropped below the peaks and the long Alaska sunset had commenced.

“I really appreciate this, you guys,” Chrissie said. “I’m more than happy to chip in for gas and snacks and so forth.”

“Will share the usuals,” Ian said, quoting the Bush Lines. Every day, the Lost Harbor radio station read announcements sent in from residents of far-flung settlements and camps in the area.

“Oh my God, I haven’t heard that phrase in over ten years,” Chrissie exclaimed. “That takes me back. I once asked a boy on a date over the Bush Lines.”

Ian put his car in gear and pulled back onto the highway, wheels crunching over the ridge of crusted snow left by the plow. “Did you grow up in Lost Harbor?”

“I did. I was born there. Left when I was seventeen.”

Bo swiveled around so he was staring at her in fascination. “What was it like growing up in Alaska?”

“Cold.” Succinct. He appreciated that. “Where are you from, Bo?”

“I’m a man of the world.” He tossed the end of his scarf over his shoulder. “I don’t consider myself tethered to one geographical location.”

“He spends a lot of time online,” Ian clarified dryly.

Chrissie nodded and settled one hand on her snoozing dog. “I hear ya. One of these days, we’ll all discard our physical forms and exist only as electrical impulses traveling between brains.”

Ian cast her a startled glance in the rearview mirror. “Are you a scientist?”

“No.” She laughed. “But I love science fiction. I’m more of a jack-of-all-trades, like a lot of people raised here.”

Should he revise his opinion of her? He’d written her off as scattered and flaky. What else could explain the fact that she’d traveled all the way from Arizona in a car she wasn’t a hundred percent sure about? The Al-Can Highway was no joke, especially in the winter.

Or so he’d heard. He’d never driven it himself. Never in a million years would he allow himself to take that much time to go from one dot on the map to another. Airplanes existed for a reason.

“I want to be a jack-of-all-trades,” Bo announced. “How can I do that?”

“It’s easy,” Chrissie said cheerfully. “Just flit from one thing to another and leave as soon you get bored. Honestly, it’s the only way to live.”

Bo looked so inspired that Ian decided he had to step in.

“I completely disagree. It’s much better to choose something you enjoy and stick with it until you’re an expert.” In the rearview mirror, he shot Chrissie a look loaded with disapproval. He hoped she’d get the message. He might be willing to give her a ride but he didn’t want her nutty ideas taking hold with his young and impressionable nephew.

She didn’t notice his scathing glance because she was petting her dog. “I’m sorry, but that’s just naive. Not everyone is lucky enough to find something they love to do. Most of us just stumble along and do the best we can. Or try to.”

“Stumbling sounds like something I can do,” Bo said brightly.

Oh no, Ian couldn’t let this go on. Two minutes in his car and this woman was already having a bad effect on his nephew.

“Maybe you don’t give things enough time,” he told her. “If you’re always flitting from one thing to another, you don’t give anything a chance. That’s an ineffective and unproductive way to exist.”

Her eyes finally met his in the rearview mirror. Their blue sparkle turned more fiery. “Excuse me? Are you calling me ineffective and unproductive after knowing me for five minutes?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, because he realized how rude he’d sounded. Social interaction wasn’t his strong suit. He could perform incredibly complex hours-long surgeries, but when it came to something as simple as a conversation with a stranger, he failed. He was trying to get better at it. The matchmaker he’d recently hired had emphasized that point.

“I apologize,” he began.

She burst out laughing and waved off his apology. “The sweet Lord knows you’re absolutely right. How can you know me so well when you only just met me? Ineffective and unproductive…hmm, maybe I should put that on my business card.”

Bo whooped with laughter. “You really are funny. You should put that on your card too.”

The two of them were both laughing now, and Ian realized he was on the outside of their shared joke. It wasn’t the first time this had happened; in fact it was a familiar feeling.

It didn’t usually bother him, but for some reason with Chrissie, it did. He wanted to converse with her. There was something so inviting and charming about her, and intelligent, too. She seemed like someone with a lot of stories to tell. Which was very different from him, unless stories about carotid endarterectomies counted.

“I apologize for my choice of words,” he said, more formally than he wanted. As soon as he said it, he cringed inwardly. If he was trying not to be such a stiff, he wasn’t going about it the right way.

Again, she waved a hand in the air. “Here’s the thing about me. I’m very well aware of my flaws. Pointing them out does not offend me. I could give you a long list at this very moment, but it would probably take the entire trip, and I’d much rather hear more about you guys. You’re uncle and nephew, I take it? Do you live in Lost Harbor or are you visiting?”

Bo piped up before Ian could answer. Which was a good thing, because he wanted some time to mull over Chrissie’s words. Had he ever known someone so comfortable with themselves? He didn’t think so. It was a rare quality and one he himself didn’t possess. If he detected a flaw in himself, he dedicated himself to eliminating it.

For instance, his social ineptness. That was priority number one. It was the key to everything he wanted to achieve next: a thriving relationship, a solid partner. At thirty-seven, it was time. Hence, the matchmaker.

He tuned back into the conversation, in which Bo was happily explaining his plan to get a summer job in Lost Harbor, while Ian had rented a house there for the next eight months or so.

“Uncle Ian’s a neurosurgeon and usually he’s based in Anchorage, but he travels around to other places in Alaska to consult.” The pride in Bo’s voice brought his confidence back.

Arrogance, some called it.

“I’ve decided to make Lost Harbor my base for the summer,” he explained.

“I’m sure they’re honored.”

He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere. “I want Bo to have plenty of support for his first job away from home.”

“Also, my mom would literally murder him if anything bad happens. She’s so overprotective. Uncle Ian had to do some fancy talking to let me come up here. It’s my first time leaving home. I don’t even know how to wash dishes.”

“You put them in the dishwasher. It’s not hard.” Chrissie’s eyes had their sparkle back.

“Maybe you can teach me,” he said eagerly. “You can come over for dinner. Uncle Ian says we have to take turns making dinner so I can learn how to cook.”

“Hmm. Would you be insulted if I came on a night when your uncle’s doing the cooking?” In the rearview mirror, she sent Ian a wink.

He nearly drove off the road, but caught himself in time and muttered something about a chunk of ice.

Was Chrissie flirting with him?

flirtingHe didn’t know how to flirt. That was a big part of his problem. He didn’t recognize when women were flirting with him. He didn’t realize when his own behavior came across as flirting. The whole thing was a big confusing mystery to him.

“Never mind,” Chrissie said in a soothing voice. Clearly she’d picked up on his discomfort. “It’s unlikely that I’ll have time for dinner. I won’t be in Lost Harbor long, and I’ll be quite busy, I’m sorry to say.”

“Doing what?” Bo asked.

Ian sent him a frown, since that seemed like a very nosy question. But she didn’t seem to mind.

“My grandfather recently died, and I inherited his…” She hesitated, sparking both Ian and Bo’s curiosity.

“His stuff?” Bo asked.

“His estate?” Ian spoke at the same moment.

She laughed. “Yes to both. But it’s not so much an estate as…” Again, that odd hesitation.

“What is it?” Bo had swung all the way around, and was hanging on her every word.

She sighed. “Well, I’ve inherited something called Yatesville.”