Chapter 10
Strolling down Main Street, I nodded to locals I passed coming out of the Lantern and looked out across the harbor to the beautiful view of the water and the coastline of mainland Scotland in the distance.
It was just before nine, and I was due at the station to do the night shift.
They always had someone there to man the radio, plus at least one volunteer crew member who could start the boat launch while the other volunteers were called in.
I knew from my research that the LSLS had their volunteers sign up to a rotation schedule, but I’d never actually worked there before, so I was hoping whoever was crew would show me the ropes on how to work the radio.
In all honesty, I was absolutely exhausted, but the bracing sea air helped. As did the sight of the slowly setting sun casting beams of pink and gold across the Sound of Glenvulin.
I slowed as my attention snagged on a very tall, broad-shouldered man who had his arms wrapped around a blond woman.
Her head reached his shoulders. Her back was to his chest, and she leaned against him as they both looked out over the water.
At their side was a stunning Alaskan malamute who rested her head between her paws.
Ramsay and Tierney were facing in the opposite direction, so they didn’t see me.
I could have called out, but I didn’t want to interrupt their moment.
Since both were fairly new additions to the island, I didn’t know Ramsay as well as I knew Tierney.
He was a very gruff, rugged carpenter who played the bagpipes and didn’t say much.
However, he had these piercing gray eyes that seemed to look right into my soul.
I could absolutely see the attraction. And he was different with Tierney. Slightly softer, more affectionate.
Like now as he bent his head to murmur in her ear, his arms visibly tightening around her.
An ache scored across my chest as I sharply looked away and hurried on past.
When my fiancé, Frank, and I broke up, I was relieved because I just wanted to grieve my mother without the pressure of dealing with someone else’s feelings. As selfish as that sounded, that’s what I needed.
And while ultimately, I knew Frank wasn’t “the one,” I missed the companionship.
I missed the cuddles. It was great having London as a roommate, to not have to come home to an empty house filled with Mum’s things.
But when I closed my bedroom door at night and turned to the empty bed, I couldn’t shake the hollow sadness inside me.
I told myself I was just stressed.
Selling Mum’s antiques had become an all-consuming task, and with the possibility of the charity store opening, I didn’t think I could go on much longer.
Some items had sold quickly; others were just sitting there.
I was beginning to think I should keep most of it in storage to sell in the charity gift shop.
It would save me all that time packing items and posting them out.
I pulled my phone from my pocket as I neared the lifeboat station. It sat at the end of Main Street, on a parcel of land by itself on the harbor side with its own slipway. Tapping on my phone screen, I vaguely noted a parked vehicle outside the building as I took the stairs up to the door.
The vase Edward White had been interested in was doing well on its listing. Mrs. Gilchrist had assured me the vase was a fake, but that hadn’t deterred interest. The money would be a nice chunk of fundraising for either the lifeboat service or our ambulance service.
Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I looked around for the key-code box Aodhan said was right outside the door. It was a wee black box with a combination lock. I slid the numbers to form the code Aodhan gave me and then pressed the button to open the box.
“What?” I scowled to find it empty.
Shutting it with a snap, I realized there was a light on in the station. Either the last volunteer hadn’t left yet or the crew member on my shift had arrived before me.
Sure enough, the entrance opened, and I stepped inside the reception to find the last person I expected to see.
Quinn McQuarrie sat behind the reception desk, his feet up, hands behind his head, relaxed and at ease.
However, those true-blue eyes sharpened ever so slightly at my appearance. “Taran?”
When I did my research into the LSLS, nowhere did it say Quinn was a volunteer crew member.
I knew Forde volunteered more than anyone and was one of the boat mechanics.
One of the many awards the LSLS had received over the last fifty years that decorated the walls of reception had been specifically awarded to Forde two years ago.
He received the George Cross and Distinguished Service Medal for individual gallantry after eighteen years’ service as a volunteer.
Forde had saved more lives than could be counted.
The walls of the reception were cluttered with not only individual awards to service people but also Global Search and Rescue awards for the organization as a whole.
That’s why it was baffling to me that no one else was rallying the troops to stop its demise.
Laird had been volunteering for the past nine years and was on the rotation, along with ten more islanders.
Once upon a time, they only volunteered one or two nights a week.
However, Aodhan had struggled to recruit people to volunteer since Annie and two longtime volunteers had left.
That meant the current volunteers were having to be on call more.
“What are you doing here?” I asked defensively.
My ex scratched his beard in thought. “I’m on crew.”
“Since when?”
“Since two weeks ago. Forde trained me for a few months, and now I’m officially crew. What are you doing here?”
“Aodhan roped me into manning the radio.” It had to be deliberate. He must have known Quinn was on the rota for tonight! What was wrong with these islanders? They were sick and nosy and meddling bampots. “But if you’re here, I can leave.”
“There’s supposed to be a station manager and a crew member here at all times.”
“I think you’ll manage without me.” I reached for the door.
“Chicken,” Quinn murmured quietly.
Stunned, I whirled back around. “Did you just call me a chicken?”
His answering grin goaded me. “I did.”
“What, are we ten?”
“No.” He shook his head, his smile faltering. “When you were ten, you liked me.”
I sniffed haughtily but abandoned my escape plan. So Quinn made me nervous. Who cared? I was a grown woman. I could deal with it. I got through a picnic with him and his children, for goodness’ sake. I could deal with a night stuck in the lifeboat station with him.
“I’ve never volunteered here, so I don’t know what I’m doing.
” I crossed the reception. The wall opposite the entrance was solid on the bottom and glass on the top half so I could see into the boathouse.
It had a curved ceiling and a walkway angled around the back and two sides.
In the pit below sat the boat, but it was so big in the space it could be accessed from the upper walkways.
At the front of the boathouse were huge doors that levered up to allow the boat to launch down the slipway.
“I heard an F1 driver donated the boat.”
Quinn’s footsteps sounded behind me and then he was beside me, his arm brushing mine.
I subtly attempted to step to the side so we weren’t touching, but it made no difference.
I was thirteen again and hyperaware of his every move.
“Aye. Daire Montrose. He owns the Isle of Scaris. He and his brothers started building a distillery, hotel, and an adventure center on the island years back, but it’s starting to ramp up now, and the few residents on Scaris haven’t been the happiest at the idea of their remote, tranquil island becoming a playground for the rich.
I believe the boat was a peace offering. ”
Quinn shifted a little closer again. “It’s an all-weather class and can recover from a capsize.
In the wheelhouse, every crew member has a suspension seat to protect us from the impact of the waves.
There’s a survivor’s space below the wheelhouse, outfitted with everything we need until we can get them to the hospital.
While the coxswain pilots the boat, we all have computer screens with access to navigation, VHF radio screen, and radar for locating the distress signal.
It’s the best money can buy, so people can be pissed off at Montrose for buying Scaris all they want, but he made sure we’re all safe when we head out into those waters for search and rescue. ”
I nodded, trying not to think about the squeeze of panic I experienced at the idea of Quinn out in a storm in that boat.
“So, as you can see, that’s the boathouse.
” He gestured to the room beyond the glass.
“Most of our fundraising goes to the upkeep of the boat and the equipment. I’ll show you the crew facilities.
” Quinn tapped my shoulder gently as he passed, walking to a door that read Crew Only.
I swear my shoulder throbbed even though he’d barely touched me.
Quinn led me into what looked like a small break room.
There was a tiny kitchenette, a coffee machine, water dispenser, kettle, and refrigerator along two walls and then two tables and chairs in the middle.
“Crew room …” He gestured and then guided me through the door at the end of that room.
It had lockers and open wardrobes. Heavy-duty weatherproof boots sat on cabinets beside helmets, the same for the jackets and waterproof outer layers that hung in the wardrobes. Trays were filled with gloves.
“Kit room.” Quinn then pushed open a door that led onto the walkway.
I followed him and instantly inhaled the scent of sea air mixed with machine oil.
It was much cooler in the boathouse. Gesturing over the walkway banister, he explained, “Down behind the launch is the mechanic’s workshop. Forde’s playground.”
I nodded, avoiding Quinn’s gaze. “Where’s the communications room?”
Quinn jerked his head back toward the door we’d exited through. I failed to not ogle his very broad shoulders and tapered waist in his dark Henley as he strode through the building. He was more filled out now than he had been at nineteen, and apparently it was all muscle.
Damn the man.
Couldn’t he have gotten less attractive over the years?
I had a feeling Quinn could be bald with a dad bod and I’d still find him as attractive as ever.
What was between us was chemical, something beyond mere physical attraction.
So unfair.
I followed him all the way through the kit and crew rooms and out into reception. He strolled to the wall behind the reception desk where there was another door labeled Crew Only.
He pushed it open and then waved at me to come in. “This is where we’ll spend most of the evening.”
The problem was Quinn had made no effort to walk inside first. He stood halfway in the door, forcing me to squeeze past him.
Trying to keep my expression blank, I leaned past Quinn to venture inside.
I inhaled his woodsy, citrusy aftershave, and tingles shivered down my spine.
Ignoring my reaction to his proximity, I frowned at the small room.
Thankfully, there were windows looking out toward the sea above what was a desk cluttered with radio equipment.
“How the hell am I supposed to use this?” I murmured, feeling out of my depth and hating it.
Quinn stepped behind me, so close I could feel the heat of him. I tried not to tense as he replied, “I’ll show you. But honestly, most of our rescues are via the coast guard, and they page us. We call them back for the details.”
Scowling, I whirled on him, forgetting how close he was and immediately taking a defensive step back when our noses almost touched. Flushing inwardly, I huffed. “Why am I here if the coast guard doesn’t even radio in?”
“Because now and then we do pick up distress calls on VHF. And the rest of the island knows that and uses the radio communications if there’s an emergency.”
Damn it.
“Then I guess you better show me how this works.”