Chapter One
Two and a half months later…
L ike everything these days, Sophie was late putting in the potatoes. She should have been turning this soil three weeks ago, but the weather had been nothing but rain and work at the marina had been an equal deluge.
Today, however, she finally had dry weather and a full day off.
It wasn’t the worst way to spend it. She liked physical work. It was satisfying and gave her time to think. Or not. As she jumped on the shovel and levered the clumps out, the noise in her head faded. She absorbed the smell of the earth while a breeze meandered off the water down at the eastern edge of Gramps’s property, floating up the sun-warmed hill to caress her arms and legs. A raven squawked as it commuted overhead and bees buzzed into the nearby chives that came up all on their own.
“Hey, Soph.”
“No,” she said reflexively. Belligerently, because she didn’t have to look to know who had spoken. Much to her chagrin, she had been reacting to Logan Fraser from the time he had picked up her sweater on the first day of school and brushed the grass from it before handing it back to her.
“It’s my day off,” she added, even though her irritation was more about the fact he’d caught her in cut-off bib overalls with only a faded tank top beneath. She was wearing gloves and heavy boots and hadn’t made any effort to tame her hair before rolling it into a messy topknot.
Why did she care? She had never been a girly girl, didn’t wear makeup, and he saw her in shapeless coveralls every day at work.
Also, he didn’t care. He’d made that so clear, so many times.
“I promised Gramps I’d get the potatoes in.” She jumped on the blade of her shovel again.
“It’s not work. It’s something else.”
“Then definitely no. I only talk to you about work.” At twenty-six, she was finally learning how to set clear boundaries.
“I need to stay here.”
The dirt rolled off the blade of her shovel. She held the handle in her lax hand as she turned to look at him.
He was annoyingly sexy, of course, wearing a striped button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. His linen trousers had a knife-sharp crease pressed into them and were rolled up to reveal his naked ankles in deck shoes. Being summer, he only allowed his stubble to grow in for a few days before shaving it off. This morning it was a light coat of glinting bronze, tidily precise down the slope of his cheeks and clean on his neck and under his jaw. His blue eyes were not the least bit apologetic or even entreating as he met her affronted gaze.
“This isn’t aB andB anymore.” Her mother had run it as one on and off, but that had been years ago. Much as Sophie would greedily accept extra cash working overtime at the marina, she didn’t have the bandwidth for cooking and cleaning up after strangers or making the necessary chitchat.
“There’s nowhere else. Not at this time of year. The lodge is buried in renovations, the completed rooms are booked. Anything else has to be used for contractors so they can stay and finish the rest.”
“Is this because Reid and Emma are married now? Are they asking for privacy or something?” She glanced up the hill toward the house on the bluff where the Fraser boys had grown up.
Logan’s older brother had married Sophie’s best friend, Emma, a month ago. Initially they’d been trying to turn Emma from Storm’s nanny into her stepmother, but they’d fallen in love, and good for Emma. She deserved to be loved by someone great. Reid was uptight and wore a resting-glower face, but he seemed to think Em was the cat’s pajamas so that’s all that mattered to Sophie.
“I wish they’d start giving a shit about privacy,” Logan muttered.
Sophie bit back a smirk. She had noticed the pair locked lips a lot, no longer caring if they had an audience. Reid couldn’t seem to walk by his new wife without rubbing her ass like it was a magic lantern, and Emma had taken to wearing low-cut tops and lip gloss on her way to see him at the office.
“Emma’s family is coming,” Logan continued. “Her mom and niece and nephew. They need the beds at the house.”
Oh. Right. Sophie had forgotten about that.
“Don’t you have a fancy boat you can sleep on?”
“Much as I would love to go back to Florida and sleep in my own bed on my own yacht, I can’t. I leased it to help pay for all of this shit.” He waved to indicate the marina and resort, out of sight behind the hillock where the road at the end of her driveway meandered toward the village.
Sophie had meant the shiny new tour boats that also belonged to the resort, but the casual way he threw out “my own yacht” irritated her. She ought to be proud of him and his brothers. They were local boys who had done well. They’d grown up here with roughly the same start she’d had. Granted, Wilf had handed them a six-figure check to get them through school and on their way to building a life. She hadn’t had that leg up, but she could have had a very different life right now if she had made some smarter choices along the way.
Don’t , her inner mama bear warned. She would never regret Biyen and would never ever regret that her mother had lived long enough to hold her grandson. Still, Sophie had caught some really shitty breaks over the years while Logan had lived his best life after refusing to bring her into it.
Which was for the best , she insisted to herself. If a man wasn’t prepared to build a life with you, then the best thing to do was walk away from him. She’d learned that with Biyen’s father.
“I’ll still take my shifts with Storm,” Logan said.
“You guys are still doing that?” Days after they had arrived, Logan’s mother, Glenda, had come along with her nursing background and no-nonsense parenting. She had laid out a schedule for the men to look after their sister in twelve-hour rotations. As much as Emma wanted to be Storm’s mother, she had been hired as a nanny, so they could only rely on her for a standard forty hours a week.
“As my mother has made very clear”—Logan looked for his patience in the fluffy clouds overhead—“Emma marrying Reid does not miraculously give her more time in her day for childcare. I don’t mind,” he conceded with a twist of his lips. “The little turnip is growing on me.”
Storm was cute as a bow tie on a bunny, that was a true fact. Seeing one of these grown-ass men wandering around with her in a sling put a smile on faces all over the village, but Sophie was determined to remain impervious to whatever paternal instincts Logan was developing. They were transitory. He was transitory.
“Between Storm and work, I’ll only be here to sleep,” he pressed. “It’s only for a few weeks.”
“That’s what you said when you showed up here ten weeks ago! ‘It’s only for a week.’” She stomped the shovel back into the dirt.
“You think I don’t know that? Look.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “As much as I would love to fuck right off, I can’t. There’s a chance that Tiffany’s sister will show up and try to take custody of Storm.”
“What?” Sophie almost dropped the shovel altogether.
Logan gave a shrug-nod that said, Yeah, can you believe that shit?
“But Reid and Emma are adopting her.”
“Not until Em’s immigration papers are sorted. It’s a whole thing.” He sighed heavily. “Trys and I have agreed to stay the rest of the summer. We might need money for a court challenge so we have to get this place turning a profit, in case we need to sell it like that.” He snapped his fingers.
Sophie reflexively shoved aside that disturbing possibility. Wilf had been a wildcard of a boss, but he’d been the devil she knew, and he had said many times that this was his home and he intended to die here. Which he kind of had.
The threat of selling had been hanging over her head since the Fraser brothers had returned, though. She had pushed it onto a back burner, unwilling to stress about it until it happened.
“When did you learn this?”
“A few days ago.”
“How’s Emma?” Sophie tightened her grip on the shovel as she looked to the house on the hill again. Em had fallen hard for the baby she had been hired to nanny six months ago, back in January, before Wilf and Tiffany had died on the way to their elopement. When that happened, Emma’s first words to Sophie had been a fearful, What will happen to Storm? A custody challenge must be freaking her out.
“She’s handling it, now that she knows we’re all committed to keeping her and Storm, together. It’ll take time for everything to iron out, though. Meanwhile, I need a room.”
“Why here ?” she demanded.
“For Christ’s sake, Sophie. Why are you making this such a big deal? This house is close to the marina and the baby. It’s convenient. You and I are adults and there are two other people here. Surely, we can get along for three weeks. I’ll pay rent,” Logan said with exasperation.
“ I pay rent! I buy groceries and cook and clean for Gramps. Him. It’s his house, in case you didn’t know.”
“I do know. He’s the one who said I could stay. This is a courtesy call, not a request.”
Seriously, Gramps? Seriously?
She stabbed the shovel into the dirt and stomped on it. “I guess I could quit and leave. There’s a job in Comox I was thinking of applying for.”
“You’re not quitting,” he said tiredly. “You won’t leave Art. He won’t leave the island. You’re stuck here, same as me. Let’s both accept that and move on.”
“Oh, you’re very good at that, aren’t you?” she muttered.
“What?”
“Moving on.”
“Are you really saying that to me ?”
They held a glower a little too long. Something squirmed in her stomach that was both culpable and defiant, burning hot and uncomfortably cold. There was a sting of shame, yet a dark pride in having provoked that small show of resentment from him.
But aside from antagonistic bickering, they didn’t talk about the past.
Boundaries. Good fences and all that.
He was supposed to stay on his side, though, in that house up on the hill, not in her freaking attic bedroom.
“How long is Emma’s family staying?” she asked begrudgingly.
“Three weeks,” he repeated.
“Is Reid likely to survive that?”
“It’ll be fun to watch and see.”
“Where is Trystan staying while they’re here?”
“On the Storm Ridge .” It was one of the pair of tour boats that had been part of Tiffany’s Great Revitalization Plan. Poor Trys, who was a loner at heart, was now hosting tourists on five-day cruises.
“It’s booked to the gunwales and gone half the week so I can’t stay there with him,” Logan reminded her. “But Reid and Emma are taking her family on one of the tours so I’ll stay at the house with Storm while they’re gone. See? Once the math shakes out, I’ll be here for ten sleeps. Max.”
“Are they leaving Storm with you ?” She pulled her bottom lip in a wide, Yikes.
“I thought we agreed to keep things civil.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not cooking for you,” she stated. “I’m not picking up your socks and washing your underwear.”
She was accepting her fate was what she was doing. Damn it, Gramps.
“Buy your own groceries,” she added. “Don’t swear in front of Biyen. Don’t even think of getting between the two of us. Ever ,” she warned in a dangerous voice. “And don’t get Gramps drunk. A beer at the end of the day is fine, but—”
“That was one time. I’ve barely had anything to drink myself since then.”
“That is not the story those flats of beer cans told when Biyen did his bottle drive for school last Saturday.”
“Those were Emma’s,” he lied shamelessly. Sophie knew Emma drank wine because they often polished a bottle between them. There wasn’t a lot to do here. Drinking was a popular hobby.
“I’m saying if you want to have a piss-up, do it elsewhere,” she warned. “This isn’t a party house.”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n. Anything else?”
“No shop talk. If you want my professional opinion, call me in and pay me for it. But not today. It’s my day off. And who is minding the hardware store if you’re here?”
“Trys. I’m going to give that kid a try, by the way. The one you said was looking for a summer job. But Trystan has Storm so I should get back. I’ll bring my stuff over Sunday.”
“Can’t wait,” she muttered, and stomped the shovel into the earth once more.
*
If there was one thing that revved Logan’s engine, it was a scantily clad woman wielding tools. Heavy gloves and a low-neck top; naked arms operating a hammer drill; safety goggles and a ponytail… They all did it for him. When a tanned, flexed calf muscle wore a smudge of dirt above a steel-toed boot, he was pretty much done. Cooked like Sunday dinner.
When it was Sophie? That got complicated real fast. She worked for him, among other reasons.
But she was objectively hot with a figure toned by physical labor. She twisted wrenches and carried propellers and machined drive shafts all day. She had the confidence to stare him down and she had so many freckles . When he looked at her kinky red hair, he always remembered the way it had caught in his combing fingers back when—
Don’t , he warned himself for the millionth time.
In fact, her grandfather had made it clear there would be no funny business on his watch.
You need a bed, you always have one under my roof , Art had said. But you aren’t sharing Sophie’s. Not unless she invites you, and you damned well better be fixing to stay there if that happens. I won’t have a repeat of eight years ago.
Had he meant Sophie getting pregnant? Logan didn’t intend to make any kids, ever. He wasn’t his father, willy-nilly with his willy. His resolve had been strengthened by these last weeks of caring for his little sister. Babies were a complete pain in the ass.
He pulled the door open on the hardware store and heard Storm let out a cry of genuine pain.
A jolt of alarm went through him because babies were also helpless and fragile and wormed their way into the rotten-cored apple of your heart even when you wished they wouldn’t.
“What happened?” Logan hurried to the counter where Trystan stood with their seven-month-old sister strapped in the sling against his chest. She faced out and her face was crumpled up while her staccato cries pierced the air.
Tall, dark, and unflappable Trystan was holding her hand, examining her tiny, wet finger while a customer stood before the counter wearing a look of tested patience. The customer glanced hopefully at Logan, but Logan was more concerned about Storm.
“You have more teeth now,” Trystan chided the baby. “It’s going to hurt if you chew whatever you put in your mouth.”
Storm sniffled down to a whimper as she noticed Logan. She gave him a very pitiful look as she held out her hand to him, entreating him to fix it since Trystan had failed her.
She was their father’s daughter, very quick to switch affections, always willing to love the one she was with, especially if they loved her back.
Logan was starting to think he might, damn it.
The customer held up a valve, asking Trystan, “So, this one?”
“That should do it.” Trystan nodded. “If you need to come back and exchange it, that’s no problem.” Trystan rang it through, then gave Storm’s tummy a comforting pat as the man left. “Okay now, Jaws? If you’d quit dropping your teething ring in the dirt, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
“Want me to take her?” Logan held out his hands.
Storm smiled and kicked with excitement, exactly as he had known she would.
Trystan grunted and caught her feet.
“I don’t think that game is as funny as you do.” He clasped her in one firm arm while he released the buckles on the sling. “I need to adjust these straps again. Either she’s growing or your balls are a lot droopier than mine. How come you never get sacked when you wear this thing?”
“I wear a cup.” He didn’t. And he got sacked on the regular when he carried her.
Logan took Storm while Trystan fiddled with the straps and buckles.
They’d been here ten weeks, Sophie had said. In some ways it sounded like forever, but he couldn’t believe how much this mix of sunshine and vinegar had changed in that time. She moved nonstop and was grabbing at everything. When she was on the floor, she scooted around, trying to crawl. She knew their names because when he said, “Where’s Trystan?” she turned her head to look for him.
She was strong enough to hold herself in a plank like a figure skater when Logan held her over his head—careful to watch for sudden spills out of those grinning lips.
“How’d it go?” Trystan asked.
Logan had asked him to cover for him while he went to “see a man about a room.” He had known Sophie would rather dig him a grave to sleep in. That’s why he’d walked over to tell her himself, away from work while her kid was at school. It had gone exactly as well as he’d expected.
“Art’s letting me stay with them,” he said very casually.
Trystan dropped the carrier back onto the counter. “ No. ”
“Tell me about my options.” Logan refused to sound defensive. “I could couch-surf, but we’re trying to make people believe we have our shit together. The lodge is overbooked. We need every contractor and laborer housed here so they can solve that problem for us. I looked into sleeping in one of the salvage boats in the boneyard. They all smell like rotten kelp and lung disease. Art was here yesterday, I asked him if he knew of anyone renting a room and he said I could stay in Biyen’s playroom. It has a bed. Mom slept there when she was here for Dad’s service.”
“What about Sophie?”
“What about her? Why are you so possessive of her?” He scowled at Trystan as Trys took Storm. “Maybe you’re the one we should be worried about where she’s concerned.”
“So we agree she ought to be worried about? I’m not possessive, I’m protective . She’s my friend.”
“She’s my friend, too.”
“She has never been your friend.” Trystan was pulling the sling back into place with one arm, firmly holding Storm against his chest with the other. “She had a hard case of hero worship that you encouraged because it fed your ego. Then you screwed her and left. That’s not how I treat my friends.”
“Is that what she said happened?”
“She didn’t have to.”
“Well, you have your facts wrong.” Not that wrong. He’d been immature and selfish. He knew that. But, “I’m not talking about her with you. Especially when you left this place on your own high horse, same as Reid and I did. Quit acting like your loyalty runs any deeper than our shallow ponds. Sophie and I are fine. That’s all you need to know.”
They were not fine. They got on with it, as Emma would say. They behaved like grown-ups when talking about work, bickered when it wasn’t, and spent a lot of time ignoring the elephant that took up all the air in any room they occupied together.
It was kind of exhausting to keep everything so filtered and corralled, to be honest. Hopefully, they could alleviate some of that while he was staying with her.
“I also told her we’re staying longer,” he admitted.
That decision had only happened a couple of days ago, on the heels of the news about Tiffany’s family. Or rather, the sister who seemed to comprise all that remained of Tiffany’s family.
“I thought Emma would have told her by now.”
“Sophie’s been busy at work.” The marina was nonstop this time of year. “Randy went back to Nanaimo for his final semester and exams.” When Logan had realized Sophie hadn’t had a proper day off in more than two weeks, he had insisted she take today.
Had he hoped that would put her in a slightly more receptive mood to his moving in? Sure. But he was also trying to at least glance at the labor standard laws.
Trystan did a safety check, running his hands across all the catches on the sling, ensuring Storm was firmly secured to his front before he released her and gathered her diaper bag onto his shoulder.
“I wish I wasn’t going to be away half the summer, but I guess we’re doing what we can, right?”
“Get those tours turning a profit. Or at least breaking even.” It would take years for the boats to be paid for, but they were already taking bookings for next season, which was promising.
Logan gave a quick wipe of his fingertip across Storm’s drooling chin, no longer squeamish about all the goop that came out of this kid.
No, he was far more apprehensive of what might happen with her aunt. And disturbed by how relieved he’d been when he and Trystan had agreed to stay.
He didn’t like it here. He wanted to go back to Florida. Didn’t he?
Storm, the little piranha, grabbed his finger and bit it.