Chapter 3
1778 Words
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 d**k to her. He’d been a d**k 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 s**t 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.
- Writer
