Chapter Eight
L ogan was puzzled when Trystan arrived with Art, riding in the Gator with him as Art puttered it up the drive.
Logan drew a couple of cans of beer from the ice-filled cooler and offered them in greeting.
“Thanks, son.” Art accepted a can and took it to the nearest lawn chair in the shade.
“I thought you were still on the Storm Ridge ,” Logan said to Trystan.
“I was helping Sophie in her garden.”
“Why?”
Trystan narrowed his eyes at Logan’s tone.
“Because it needed weeding.” He popped the beer he held and took a couple of gulps. “Then Nolan brought Biyen home. Biyen got stung by a wasp. He’s fine.” Trystan waved off Logan’s frown of concern. “Sophie thinks he knew the kids were back and he wanted to see them. They’re still getting cleaned up. They’ll be over soon.”
“That’s good. Mom was worried she wasn’t going to see Biyen this trip.” He glanced toward the trail to Sophie’s house. “Is—” He hesitated, not sure he wanted an answer to this question. “Is Sophie bringing… What’s his name?”
He knew damned well what it was. Trystan had just said it, but Logan would be damned if he would let it pass his lips. It was like saying Beetlejuice three times. He didn’t want to summon the bastard.
“Nolan,” Trystan provided with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know if she has a choice. That guy is like a bear. He can smell a free meal from a mile away. You might find him sleeping in your bed when you get back there tonight.”
As long as he wasn’t sleeping in hers , Logan thought with more acrid dislike than he was entitled to.
“I told her I could help pull weeds after work this week.” Logan was annoyed she had asked Trystan for help. He hadn’t found the right time or place to apologize and had thought the garden while Biyen was away camping might give him the chance he needed to clear the air with her.
“She wanted to get it done before Glenda got into it. On that topic…”
“No.” Logan forestalled the sparkle that had come into Trystan’s eye. “Before you start riding me about Mom being here, she insisted on coming. Even with her here, it’s been really busy with Storm and covering for Reid. Sophie has been run off her feet so I was doing it as much for her as anyone else.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
“She’s been asking for you, by the way.”
“Storm? I figured I’d let Em have first crack at her.”
“Hilarious. Storm could care less about anyone but Em. She’s taken root on her hip.”
“There’s my favorite skunk cabbage,” Trystan said, handing Logan his beer and breaking out one of his rarely used wide smiles. “Are you going to come see me?”
Storm kicked and grinned and buried her face in Emma’s neck, making Emma wince as she grabbed a handful of Em’s hair, but she was chuckling at how excited Storm was.
“Say hi to Trystan, you silly goose,” Emma urged the baby.
Storm abruptly twisted to reach for Trystan, making a tsking noise against her teeth.
“Are you trying to say my name, you little ball of yarn?” He lifted her over his head, making her chortle, then he brought her down for growly kisses against her neck.
“I’m going to hit the toilet while she’s distracted,” Emma said under her breath and hurried inside.
While Trystan cruised Storm around the yard like an airplane, Logan stuck his brother’s beer back on ice and let himself be drawn into playing ringtoss with the kids.
Sophie arrived a short while later and she did bring What’s-his-name. She wore cut-off jeans and a pale-pink T-shirt. Her hair was still drying from her shower so it was falling around her face in red-gold curlicues that he hardly ever saw loose like that. He found them extra fascinating and really wanted to touch them.
“Delta, this is Biyen’s dad, Nolan.” She stopped where Delta had joined Art in the shade.
Logan would have listened more closely, but Biyen ran up to him. “Logan, look. I got stung by a wasp.”
“You sure did.” He touched under the boy’s chin to tilt his face and examine his puffy cheek. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore. Dad put ice on it, but I wanted to see Mom. She said I’ll live. Gramps said we can camp on the yard instead, since Auntie Glenda is visiting and needs my bed.”
“That all works out, doesn’t it?”
“Yup. Hey, Dad. Do you want to play ringtoss with us?”
“Sure, dude. Hey, man. I’m Nolan,” he drawled with a heavy vocal fry as he came across and offered his hand to Logan.
“Logan. I think we met at my mother’s wedding a few years ago.” He offered the toy rings he held rather than a handshake.
“Yeah, that was a fun night.” Nolan’s clothes gave off a vague aroma of campfire, but his hair was wet and combed off his tanned, bearded face. A face that bore a distinct resemblance to Biyen’s.
“Let me get you a beer,” Logan said as an excuse to walk away. “Sophie?”
“I’ll find a glass of water first.” She went up the outside stairs to the kitchen.
Logan relayed the beer to Biyen’s father and checked in with Delta and Art who didn’t need refreshing yet.
“Uncle Reid,” Cooper called up to where Reid was cleaning the barbecue on the deck off the kitchen. “Will you be on my team? Immy doesn’t want to play anymore.”
Imogen had fallen for the Trystan Effect. She was following him and Storm around the yard, asking questions about sea otters and orcas and owl pellets.
“Sure thing, buddy.” Reid looked to Logan. “Will you finish this for me?”
Logan nodded and passed him on the stairs.
“Oh, you want to be on our team, too?” Reid asked as he walked by Trystan and Storm reached for him. “That might be an unfair advantage, but sure.”
Trystan gave her up and crouched beside Imogen, pointing up to the treetops, then down at the ground as he explained some wonder of nature to her.
Reid looked like the quintessential dad, cradling Storm in one arm while he helped Cooper hone his ringtoss technique, giving Biyen and his father a run for their money.
Logan stood at the rail of the upper deck, looking down at all those men in their fatherly roles. He had always looked down on that role because he’d looked down on his own father, but for once he felt differently about it.
Reid was really trying to do better than their father had. Logan had to admire him for it. Trys was Trys, naturally good in any one-on-one role, especially with a kid. Even Biyen’s father couldn’t be faulted, praising Biyen for a, “Good try, bud. Take my turn. See if you can get it this time.”
Logan had no faith in himself as a father. He presumed he would be terrible at it, like his own, which was why he had never wanted to be one.
A gritty, tarred sensation invaded his chest as he wondered, really wondered, if he could ever be even half as good at it as those men were. As far as responsibility went, shaping the life of a child was monumental.
“Logan.”
Sophie’s voice cut into him like a blade, making him jolt with a strange mix of culpability and defensiveness.
She wasn’t looking at him. She clapped her glass of water onto the table and shaded her eyes. “Something’s going on with the MissionaryII .”
Logan followed her gaze to where the tour boat was coming into the cove. Built in the early 1900s as a floating hospital, the vessel had been converted by a couple out of Campbell River into a tour boat ten years ago. It carried sea kayakers along the coast, coming into Raven’s Cove a few times each summer. Its name was a source of adolescent amusement among the locals. Everyone knew what the first missionary position was. What was the second?
Logan swore as he saw the smoke. The people on board were scrambling and the boat seemed to lose power.
“They’ve cut the engine.”
They were likely radioing for help, but Logan clapped the barbecue shut and turned off the knobs, whistling down to his brothers.
“Fire on the water.”
He clattered down the stairs. Reid handed Storm to Delta and leapt behind the wheel of the truck. Sophie came in beside Logan while Trystan rode shotgun. Minutes later, they were running down the wharf, hurrying to launch the Storm Ridge along with half the other boats moored alongside them. The fire brigade from the fueling station was headed out there, too.
As they approached, kayaks were being dropped into the water along with lifeboats. People in life preservers were scrambling to get down ladders, but more than one fell into the water or jumped.
The powerful engine of the Storm Ridge allowed them to be one of the first on scene. Trystan slowed as they approached, trying to keep his wash to a minimum.
“Man overboard, starboard,” he called down, cutting their engine.
Logan spotted the man clumsily trying to swim in his life preserver. He threw a ring for him and Reid joined him at the rail, helping him pull the rope to haul the man closer.
Alarms and a bullhorn were sounding all around them. The fire boat was pouring water on the MissionaryII while smaller boats buzzed closer, trying to help without running over those who were in kayaks or in the water.
Sophie came up on Logan’s right, starting to hook up the recovery harness and ladder. She wore her own life preserver and hurried to secure each side before she removed a section of rail.
“Do you need help?” she called down to the man.
He shook his head, but he was clearly struggling against shock, needing two tries to grasp at the rubber rungs of the ladder before he very shakily climbed up.
“We’ve got you,” Logan assured him, going onto his belly so he could reach down and grab hold of the man’s life preserver. Reid did the same and they dragged the man up, landing him like a two-hundred-pound tarpon onto the deck where he lay shaking and gasping.
Sophie was over on the port side calling, “Come around to the ladder.”
Two pairs of double kayaks paddled around the bow. An older woman in the front position of the first one was crying. She held a paddle, but didn’t seem capable of using it, or even knowing what to do beyond making a panicked grab for a rung on the ladder.
“I’ll come down and stabilize it for you,” Sophie said, starting to swing her leg down to the ladder.
“You will not.” Logan caught the waistband of her shorts in a fist.
“You guys are stronger,” she pointed out impatiently and brushed his hand away. “You need to pull her up. I’m wearing a life jacket.”
She lowered herself down the ladder and, with one hand and foot on the flexible rungs, stepped her other foot onto the kayak, keeping it close. The second woman in the kayak took the paddle and Sophie guided the first woman onto the ladder.
“There you go. That’s it. You’re doing it. Keep going.”
The ladder quivered under the wobbling scramble of the terrified woman. Sophie swung precariously outward as the kayak shifted beneath her foot. The second woman in the kayak was anxiously pushing forward so she could also climb the ladder.
Logan swore, heart swerving as Sophie grasped on with two hands and worked to secure her footing.
They got the two women aboard, both shaking with reaction.
Trystan guided each out of the way, wrapping them in blankets before he came to help with the second couple.
Once they were aboard, Trystan went down the ladder to help Sophie recover the kayaks and paddles. They guided them up and Logan stowed them out of the way while Sophie and Trystan came back on deck.
Reid closed the rail while they all scanned for anyone else still in the water.
Sophie was safe, Logan told himself, waiting for his heart rate to settle. He didn’t have to worry she was in the water, floating out of reach, but damn her for almost letting it happen.
*
Sophie collected the names of their passengers and radioed that they were aboard the Storm Ridge .
A few minutes later, the captain of the MissionaryII announced everyone was accounted for. While the fire brigade continued to put out the fire, Trystan steered the Storm Ridge back to shore.
They all breathed a huge sigh of relief. That could have been so much worse!
“You’ll help with salvage,” Reid instructed Logan who nodded curtly. “I’ll open a tab at the pub to feed everyone.”
“People are going to need beds,” Sophie said. According to the information she’d just received, “There are twenty passengers, plus crew.”
“We can sleep twelve here. Fourteen if we drop the settee,” Reid said.
They continued making logistical decisions as they came ashore. Locals were already gathered at the top of the wharf, ready to offer blankets, beds, and meals.
Reid took charge, herding everyone to the pub for food and drink, bed assignments, and medical assessment by the resort’s first aid attendants.
Sophie hung back, planning to help Trystan make up the beds with the fresh linens he’d picked up from the lodge a few hours ago.
As she gathered up the damp blankets people had discarded, Logan came striding back into the saloon.
“I thought you were going out with the tug,” she said, surprised to see him.
“I am, but—” He came right up to her and hooked his hand behind her neck, planting a hard kiss on her lips.
Her hands automatically came up to his chest, but she didn’t push him away. This was too hungry a kiss. Too infused with raw need.
His gaze was angry as he held hers, but he stopped short of bruising, swiping his hot lips across hers in a message of desperation, one that made her heart crash around in her rib cage.
Heat, an old, fierce, furnace of heat, burst to life inside her, melting her bones and sinew and willpower.
As her eyes started to flutter closed in surrender, he abruptly released her.
“Don’t you ever do anything so reckless again. You have a son to think about.” He passed Trystan on his way topside. “Not one fucking word.”
Trystan watched him go, brows up, then turned his bemused look onto Sophie.
She was still trying to press the sizzle from her lips. Be mad , she told herself, but her head and heart were bonking into each other, incapable of outrage, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.
With her cheeks stinging, she picked up the blanket she had dropped when Logan had grabbed her.
“It was pretty stupid,” Trystan said. “Going down that ladder like that without a line.”
“You did it, too! You weren’t even wearing a life preserver.”
“It was stupid of me, too.” He pulled a retractable clothesline with three wires from one post to another across the saloon and secured it. “Maybe if I had a son, he would have kissed me, too.”
“Oh shut up.” She threw the wet blanket at his smirking face.
*
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
He hadn’t meant to. One second, he had been on his way to the tug; the next he’d been in the saloon. Angry, anxious words had been in his throat, but a far greater need had overwhelmed him. He’d had to touch her. He had needed to feel that she was real and safe. He had had to transmit in the most basic way that she mattered and shouldn’t scare him like that ever again.
So stupid. He was her boss. Her houseguest. Acting like a damned Neanderthal did nothing to improve her opinion of him. He had just been so fucking scared. Not just by those tense minutes while she had been hanging over the water, but by everything she had told him that he couldn’t undo.
I was punishing myself.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her saying that, going over and over it without ever finding a way to travel back into the past and fix what he’d broken.
Not that he had time for ruminations or building a freaking time machine. The next two days were hairy as the boat was salvaged, the kayakers were reunited with their belongings, and the travelers scrambled to find a way home after their vacations were cut short. Some were understanding about the late-night ferry schedules. Some bummed their way onto vessels going whichever direction they were headed. A handful of passengers pressured the captain of the MissionaryII to charter a plane, annoyed there were no direct commercial flights back to Vancouver.
The commercial flights left from Bella Bella, which was only a seabus ride away, but the plane was small and usually booked out well in advance. The airstrip here in Raven’s Cove was overdue for some TLC, but a bush Otter was secured, and they were flown to Victoria the next afternoon.
“What a bunch of babies,” Sophie muttered, coming back into the marina office from driving those passengers to the airstrip. She clattered the keys for the company truck onto the desk. “Welcome to Canada. It’s big. Things are far apart. It takes time to get from here to there. Gawd.”
“Thanks for doing that,” Logan said. “Give yourself some danger pay.”
Danger pay was a meal voucher for the pub, usually offered by the beleaguered lodge staff to resort customers who were particularly grumpy or inconvenienced.
“Bitching about it is its own reward, but I’ll take a free lunch. Thanks.”
“I wish everyone had your sunny attitude. Will you look at these numbers? It’s a ballpark estimate for the insurance claim.”
She came to stand beside him where he sat behind the desk that he had mostly appropriated from her. She studied the spreadsheet on his screen where he’d listed the major expenses and his best guestimate of cost for a rough and dirty calculation.
While she read, he took stock of the collared resort T-shirt she had pulled on for her civilian duty of driving people up to the airstrip. She usually wore bicycle shorts under her coveralls, the kind that hugged her hips and thighs, but today wore cargo shorts that fell almost to her knees, showing only her muscled calves above her slouched socks and heavy work boots. So cute.
“Maybe include a fiberglass option?” she suggested.
He forced his gaze up to her freckled face.
“The original hull is wood. The charm and value is in its construction.”
“Right. The labor looks accurate, and we can source the lumber here, but the shipping charge on a new engine? I’d double the fuel surcharge on that. They are killing us right now. Remind the captain to add lost revenue to their claim, too. The MissionaryII is definitely out for the season. What?”
She caught him staring at her mouth. Apparently, he was just as turned on when she talked about fuel surcharges as when she physically changed out an oil filter.
“Nothing.” He swallowed. “When—”
He’d been about to ask when Biyen’s father was leaving, but Trystan walked in with Storm doing her wiggle dance in the sling.
“Are you lost?” Logan asked.
“Reid said to find you.” He texted as he spoke. “He wants to talk to us.”
“About?”
“That’s all the information I have.” His phone dinged and he glanced at it. “He’ll be here in a sec.”
“Good. I want to talk about our emergency procedures.” Logan sat back and couldn’t stop himself from cutting a glance at Sophie, still mad at her for putting herself at risk. “That rescue was a shit show. We’re lucky it turned out as well as it did. We had too many hands on deck, not enough coordination from shore.”
Sophie sniffed and walked away, slipping onto the stool at the other computer and turning to tap its keyboard.
“It wasn’t great,” Trystan allowed.
“No, it wasn’t. I’ve had a look at the safety manual. The procedures are reasonably up to date, but we need to run a few drills. Reid will have to rewrite some for the new lodge and the rest of the new construction.”
“Sounds like you guys have it under control. We love it when the heroes do all the work, don’t we, Storm?” Trystan let her grasp onto his fingers so he could bring her arms over her head like a champion.
“You’re not off the hook. Your purview will be lost hikers and wildfire response. Anything that happens to our guests on land outside our lease is your jurisdiction.”
“Since when?”
“Maybe be careful with that one?” Sophie pivoted on her stool. “I’ve always found it good practice to check in with the tribal council office in Bella Bella before sending a team offsite. That way we’re not trampling up a sensitive wetland or other meaningful place.”
“Absolutely we should coordinate with them,” Logan agreed. “But let’s not be dicks. We can’t put it on them to rescue our guests.”
“I’ll touch base with them, see how they want to handle it,” Trystan said.
“Handle what?” Reid asked as he came in on the tail of Trystan’s statement.
Logan caught him up.
“I actually had a reminder in my calendar to run a fire drill before the cruise. It fell off my radar, but it’s top priority now.” Reid looked around. “I forgot what a dim little place this is. Why don’t you wash that window?”
“I’ve hosed it down four times since I’ve been here. It doesn’t stay clean,” Logan said.
“There’s an exhaust from the repair shop below,” Sophie pointed out. “It kicks up dust off the embankment.”
“Move the exhaust,” Reid said with a shrug that said, Problem solved.
“Is that the best use of your money?” Sophie asked. “Because I can exhaust it to the other side of the island if money is no object, but the view out that window is a muddy hillside. I sit with my back to it. Fresh air is nice when I want it, but what do I care whether I can see out the glass?”
Reid looked to Logan.
“This is my life,” Logan said. “I tell her how to spend our money and she tells me how to save it. It’s kind of annoying. Tell him what you said yesterday about the MissionaryII ,” he prompted Sophie.
She blinked. “I thought the consensus was that it was even more boring than regular. You just watch TV and go to bed.”
Reid choked and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You did not just say that to your boss es ,” Logan said, because that was not what he had meant. At all.
“I thought it was an action movie,” Trystan confided to Reid.
“It’s not a lunar launch?” Reid asked with mock surprise.
“That wasn’t even dirty!” Sophie defended. “You should have heard some of the things my old boss said to me before you three came along.”
“Please don’t drag us into that workplace harassment claim,” Reid said smoothly. “And thank you for the laugh. I needed it.”
“She suggested we buy it,” Logan said of the damaged vessel.
“That was off the cuff,” Sophie said with a dismissive wave. “Two of the crew from the MissionaryII would have stayed if they could have found a place to live. I just said to Logan that it’s too bad we couldn’t have kept it as a floating staff house, especially for the summer months.”
“See? It’s a solid suggestion,” Logan said. “The fire damage is mostly in the engine room and replacing the engine will be very spendy. If we bought it as is, repaired the hull, and parked it, we would instantly gain two-dozen bunks.”
“We don’t need that many rooms for staff. Once the renos are finished, we won’t have so many contractors on site, either.” Reid was skeptical.
“It could be a cheaper option for the sports fishermen who still want to come here, but don’t want to pay the higher price at the renovated lodge,” Trystan pointed out.
“We could book it out for private parties. Family reunions. Weddings,” Logan added.
“I don’t hate the idea,” Reid said. “We definitely need more accommodation available in summer months. Adding it into the lodge reservation system would be simple enough. Put some hard numbers together and a plan for the remodel. Let’s circle back on that.” He nodded at Logan. “Right now, we have a more pressing matter. But thank you, Sophie. That was a great suggestion.”
“Sure. Do you want me to leave?”
Reid looked briefly conflicted, then waved at her to stay where she was.
“Em will tell you anyway so you might as well hear it. We just got a call that Tiffany’s sister has been released from protective custody. There’s no indication that she’s coming here, but I wanted you two to know that it could happen and keep your ears open.”
Logan swore. Trystan set his hand on Storm’s belly. Storm chewed her teething beads, oblivious to the blanket of concern that had descended over the room.
“What does that mean?” Sophie asked tentatively.
“I don’t know.” Reid’s voice held all the frustration that Logan felt. It was reflected in Trystan’s face as well. “We know that she knows about Storm and was planning to come here, but wound up in trouble with the law. Now she’s loose. If she wanted to call and arrange a visit or something, I think we’d figure something out.”
Reid looked to Logan and Trystan. They each jerked their shoulders in maybe .
“But if she challenged us for custody, then no,” Reid said firmly. “That’s a war we need to be prepared to win.”
“How’s Em?” Sophie asked.
“Freaking out and pretending she’s not.” Reid gave his jaw a rub. “I said I’d bring Storm home. Do you mind?” he asked Trystan.
“I have to finish getting the Storm Ridge ready to sail anyway.” He unbuckled the sling, as somber as the rest of them.
Reid took Storm but pulled her out of the sling. He let the contraption dangle off his elbow while he held the baby securely against his chest.
Hold on to her. Hold on tight , Logan wanted to insist. His own arms felt weak and useless, his chest hollow.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Reid said, but he didn’t sound convinced or convincing.
“Maybe,” Trystan echoed in a hollow tone.
Until they knew that it was nothing, they would all fear the worst.