Wanting a Family Man (Raven’s Cove #3)

Chapter Six

“O h good, you’re back.” Emma seemed more relaxed when they returned, smiling with welcome as she bustled in the kitchen, setting steaks to marinate in a glass dish. “Storm’s still asleep, but I remembered that we have some of Tiffany’s things.”

Cloe’s heart clutched. It must have shown on her face because Emma sobered.

“You don’t have to go through them right now. Reid hasn’t even found the boxes yet.” Emma looked to Trystan. “Do you remember where you put them?”

“Was that what his text was about?” Trystan glanced at the phone that had had them locking up the Storm Ridge and walking up to the house. “It says, ‘Question mark t boxes.’ Does he think he gets charged by the letter? Why is he always so cryptic?”

“It drives him crazy that I can text way faster than him,” Emma said with a saucy smirk. “I like to pepper him with questions. Ask a new one while the little dots are showing as he’s trying to answer. I like to see how long it takes for him to just call. Four is his limit.”

“I knew you had a mean streak,” Trystan teased.

“I like him to call me. It makes me feel special,” she said with shrug and a glance at Cloe that said, You know what I mean . “So do you?” she asked Trystan. “Remember where you put them?”

“Crawl space or attic, I imagine.”

“Reid’s looking in the crawl space right now.”

“I’ll go nail the door shut, then.” Trystan thumped down the stairs.

Emma rolled her eyes and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Would you like a glass?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Cloe wasn’t much of a drinker, but she was still recovering from telling Trystan the worst parts of her life history. She’d had to repeat those details again and again for statements and on the stand. She’d been challenged and her story picked apart, her motives questioned and her character smeared.

Somehow, it was worse that he had accepted it all with only a grim look on his face and what sounded like sincere sympathy.

“Can I help with dinner?” she offered.

“Not really. The potatoes are in the oven. Reid will barbecue these later and I’ll make a green salad when Sophie gets here. I should’ve asked if you have any allergies. Biyen is vegetarian. I asked Sophie to bring an extra mushroom patty for you, just in case.”

“I eat pretty much everything.” She actually hated any savory dish cooked with fruit, but when you grew up uncertain about whether there would be food on the table at all, you ate whatever you were offered. “I appreciate you including me. Thank you.”

She accepted the glass Emma offered her and touched it to the one Emma held out.

“I should have said right away that I’m really sorry about Tiffany,” Emma said with an expression of chagrin and sympathy.

“Thanks.” Cloe nod-shrugged, appreciating the words while trying not to let the tsunami of grief do its thing and overtake her. “What, um, brought you here to nanny?”

“Divorce,” Emma said with a grimace. “I was a real estate agent at home. Good at it, too. But I needed a fresh start. Let’s sit down,” Emma invited, drawing her onto the deck and bringing the baby monitor with them.

It was a pleasant summer evening with the shadows lengthening and a fresh breeze coming off the water. Torn cotton clouds streaked across the horizon.

Emma curled one leg under her as she sat in a chair at the patio table. Cloe took the one across from her.

“We don’t have to talk about Tiffany if that’s too hard right now, but I thought you’d like to know that she wanted you to be here. Hiring me was more of a… I don’t know.” Emma frowned toward the water. “Wilf was generous with money in some ways, but not so much in others. He didn’t love the expense of a nanny. He was pretty sexist. He adored Storm and was super cute with her, but he never changed her or fed her so, like, how hard is it to look after a baby when you’re not the one doing it, right?”

“Sophie said she thought Tiff was happy, though.”

“They both were.” Emma nodded. “I mean, any nanny has a front row seat on marriage issues and theirs were pretty normal. Wilf griped about how much she spent on groceries. Tiffany nagged him to clean up after himself, but he rubbed her shoulders when she was nursing. They would cuddle on the couch while they watched a movie. Make jokes.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Misty emotion closed in around Cloe. “He was so much older, and he sounded like a bit of a player. I was worried.”

“Oh, he totally was,” Emma said. “I don’t think that’s up for debate when he had four kids by four different women. But he and Tiffany would say ‘I love you,’ and it sounded like they meant it. I think it was just hard for Tiffany because she took on the renovations. She was really stressed, but looking back, I have to wonder if some of that was worry about you. That’s not a guilt trip” Emma quickly put up a stalling hand. “I thought you’d like to know she was thinking about you is all.”

“I know she was.” Cloe rubbed her brow. “She wanted me to meet them in Vegas. I told her I couldn’t, but she insisted on getting married there, in case something changed for me.” Cloe’s heart was still in shattered pieces, feeling as though it was her fault they’d been in the air that day.

“At the time, I thought it was strange that she was so adamant about leaving Storm with me,” Emma murmured. “She didn’t really want to. It was stressing her out and Wilf asked her a bunch of times if she wanted to bring the baby. Bring me.” Emma hugged herself, probably thinking of the near miss she’d had in staying home.

Cloe had the feeling that Emma was tiptoeing toward asking the same thing Trystan had, but running footsteps sounded below, then began to clang on the steps up to the deck.

“Biyen,” Emma said with affection and turned her head as a boy of eight or so arrived at the top of the stairs, gasping for breath.

“Did I beat Mom?”

“No.” Sophie opened the screen from the kitchen, looking flushed.

“Did you seriously race him up the hill?” Emma asked her.

“I gave her a head start,” Biyen said. “Where’s Storm?”

“Hi, Auntie Em,” Sophie said in the correcting tone of a harried mother. “I notice you have a guest. Will you please introduce me?”

“Oh. Hi.” He grinned at Cloe, showing a mix of grown-up teeth at the front, smaller baby teeth at the back. “I’m Biyen.” He thrust out his hand like a gentleman.

“I’m Cloe, Storm’s aunt.” She shook his sweaty palm.

“Storm has an aunt ?” He whipped his head around to look at Sophie. “How am I just learning this now?”

“Buddy,” Sophie said with exaggerated patience. “I just told you at home that Tiffany had a sister named Cloe and that she was here to see Storm. What do you think an aunt is?”

“Bugs at a picnic,” he told her with a goggle-eyed stare. “Where’s Logan?”

“He went in through the basement. Reid and Trystan are in the crawl space. Logan got jealous that his brothers are looking at old Christmas lights without him.”

“Can I go see them?”

“The Christmas lights? I’m joking. It was actually something about tea.” Sophie frowned her confusion to Emma.

“Mom.” Biyen looked as though his patience was being tested. “I mean can I go see the guys ?”

“Oh. Sure—”

There was a squawk on the baby monitor.

Sophie lifted her brows and pointed. “Or?”

“Do you want to get her up with me?” Emma asked in an indulgent tone.

“Yas queen.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that one,” Sophie said with a wince, but Biyen was already trying to shove past her.

“Shoes!” Sophie cried.

“Ugh.” He toed off his shoes and left them on the deck, then shouldered past her.

“We’ll be right back.” Emma took the monitor and hurried after him.

“Dear God, I need one of those.” Sophie pointed at Cloe’s glass on the table. “Logan fed him ice cream. He’s bouncing off the walls. Do you need a top-up?” Her voice faded as she moved to the fridge.

“No, thanks.” Cloe left her glass outside and came into the kitchen, closing the screen behind her. She was operating on three hours of sleep and no lunch. If she didn’t nurse her drink, she’d be hammered.

“I finally put together that this”—Sophie rolled her wrist to indicate the house—“was why you were asking about work and a place to stay when I saw you at the pub this morning.” Sophie used her hip to close the fridge, unstopping the bottle as she went searching for a glass.

“I didn’t know you were so closely connected to the family,” Cloe tried to explain. “I asked the server if she knew of a place, and she called you over.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s par for the course that we ask around for stuff. Who needs the internet when you can just yell at whoever is walking by? And look, working at the pub is fine. I’ve done it myself in the past, but—I’m going to sound like a complete bitch here, like I have a grudge against Quinley. I don’t. I swear. We have history, but our kids are friends, and we make it work. Still, you should know that when she says there’s an opening at the pub, what she really means is, she would like to take a week off and visit her sister in Winnipeg.”

“That sounds like a week of work for me, though,” Cloe said with a lilt of hope.

“It is. And if you’re okay with that, great. You’d probably keep picking up shifts through September, but they’d be the shitty ones where you’ll make two-dollar tips. Then you’ll be laid off when they scale back to winter hours. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Can I ask what you do?” When she’d seen Sophie walking by the pub this morning, she’d been in coveralls.

“Marine mechanic. I’m the manager at the marina.”

“Oh. Wow. How did you get into that?”

“Honestly? I had a terrible crush on a boy who likes boats.” She chinned toward the stairs into the basement, meaning Logan, Cloe presumed. “Plus, my grandfather did it before me and we lived with him so—” She cut herself off and drew a sharp breath, blinking as if she’d been stabbed. “Fuck. Sorry. We just lost him a couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Cloe found herself clasping Sophie’s arm before she realized what she’d done. She quickly released her. “I get it. It catches you off guard, doesn’t it?” Her own grief was suddenly right here at the forefront, like a mask of pain that was trying to crush her face. She ran her fingertips under her eyes.

“Yeah. It sucks.” Sophie pressed the pad of her thumb to the inside corner of her eye and blew out a long breath. “What was I saying? Work. Right. I got swept into it so I went to school to get my ticket. I like it. It pays well. Even so, it’s pretty quiet in the winter. Most people need a side hustle.”

“Hmm.” Cloe didn’t even have a main hustle. “Is there much available in Bella Bella?”

“Not really. You’re better off looking on Vancouver Island or the mainland. Prince Rupert, maybe. Sorry.” Sophie sounded like she meant it, but it was still a tough pill to swallow.

Biyen’s voice became louder as he came down the stairs with Emma.

“…and when people found those fossils, they thought they were dragons,” he was saying. “That’s why there are so many cultures with myths about dragons.”

“That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. Can I play with her on her mat?”

“Sure. Why don’t you get her sippy cup and see if she wants a drink? It’s by the sink.”

“Okay.” Biyen walked into the kitchen and said, “Storm had a huge blowout. Auntie Em said it was a good thing I was there to help because Storm was trying to sit up and roll off the change table. It was a real mud wrestling competition.”

“His words, not mine,” Emma called with amusement.

“Way to get in there, champ. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.” Sophie started to hand him the sippy cup. “Wait. Did you wash your hands?”

“ Yes .”

“Good. Do you need something to drink, too?”

“Can I have a Popsicle?” he asked hopefully.

“ No .”

“Worth a try.” He shrugged and took the cup to the mat where Emma was surrounding Storm with soft toys.

“He’s hilarious,” Cloe said, bemused by the boy.

“I know. I’d love to take credit, but he picks up the wildest things. I mean, mud wrestling? I have no idea where he heard that.”

“Logan?” Emma suggested as she walked into the kitchen. She looked around, then picked up the glass of wine she’d left on the kitchen table. “You”—she pointed at Sophie—“have some tea to spill.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t want to label it,” Sophie said belligerently and glanced toward the living room where Biyen was talking to Storm. “The only thing you need to know is that when Logan comes to do his nights with Storm, we’ll all come.”

“Fair dinkum?” Emma paused in opening the refrigerator.

“No. But if you wanted to go away with Reid to see his mom, it might be fun for us to play house here. That’s what constitutes a romantic getaway in my life,” Sophie told Cloe in a wry aside. “Babysitting and using someone else’s dishes. Be still my heart. We’re also happy to take Storm overnight at my place, if you want,” she added to Emma.

“Mmm.” Emma was stacking vegetables from the fridge onto the island. “I’d rather keep her in her own bed. She was a nightmare when we took her to Vancouver. It took days for her to settle back into her routine.”

“Offer’s open anytime.” Sophie shrugged it off.

Sophie seemed to know where everything was in this kitchen. She took out a colander to wash the lettuce while Emma found a carrot peeler.

“I can do that,” Cloe offered.

“Thanks. Two should do.” Emma handed it over with a couple of carrots.

“Can I ask a weird question?” Cloe asked as she slid the blade down the skin.

They both paused to look at her.

“Why does Logan have nights with Storm?”

“They all do.” Sophie pointed at a chart on the side of the fridge. “Logan’s mom, Glenda, put those knuckleheads on a caregiver rotation. Three days on, three days off, then three nights on.”

“Really?”

“You better believe it. That’s why we revere her. She does not put up with their shit.”

“All hail Glenda,” Emma agreed, then confided, “We actually bicker over who gets her.”

“Storm or Glenda?” Sophie interjected.

“Ha ha. Both, right? I meant Storm. We let the schedule decide if there’s a conflict. Then Trystan shows up and says, ‘It’s my only day off,’ and we all cave.”

“Because he’s the baby ,” Sophie said. “He thinks he wasn’t spoiled for being the youngest, but he totally was.”

“I know, right? Logan and Reid take Storm into work, but Trys takes her for a hike and no one gives him grief for it. They’re like, ‘That’s just Trystan. He does whatever he wants.’ But I usually get to go with him so I don’t say anything, either.” Emma grinned.

“You go into the woods with him?” Cloe asked with fangirl envy.

She was coveting this relationship between the two of them, cracking jokes that revealed how familiar they were with each other and Storm’s brothers. Cloe was also in awe that they were so not girlie. As Ivan’s girlfriend, Cloe had been surrounded by absolute trophies. That’s why she had been at the gym every day and had dyed her hair and kept herself manicured and made up. Ivan had been pressuring her to get a boob job and lip filler.

“We only do day hikes,” Emma said. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

“You’ve seen Trys’s show?” Sophie asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Oops. Did that come out too heavily inflected?

Sophie slid a look to Emma.

Cloe pretended she didn’t notice. “Tiffany sent me a link when she moved in with Wilf, so I knew he had three grown sons, that one lived in Florida and…where does Reid live?”

“Alberta. Calgary,” Emma provided.

“I looked at all their socials a few times after the crash, hoping for photos of Storm, but they stopped posting, not that Reid ever really posted much in the first place.”

“Speaking of the Three Stooges, are they still in the crawl space?” Sophie asked. “Do you think they need resuscitating? We just had a refresher on entering confined spaces.”

“I heard hammering,” Biyen provided helpfully from the living room.

“Yeah? Do you want to go see if they’re all right?” Sophie prompted.

“They’re grown-ups. I’m pretty sure they’re fine.” He was propped on an elbow, reading a cloth book to Storm while she tried to pull it out from under her own foot. “A cow says ‘Moo.’ Can you say that? ‘Moo.’”

“I guess I’ll go check myself, then,” Sophie said, rolling her eyes.

“They’re grown-ups, Sophie,” Emma mocked. “I’m pretty sure they’re fine.”

“That’s what they want you to think. We know that Biyen is ten times more mature than the three of them put together.”

*

Trystan was standing with his elbow propped on the hot water tank, stewing in temper, when Sophie came into the utility room.

“Are we allowed to start the barbecue without any testosterone present? What are you guys doing anyway?” She peered into the open hole where a single bare bulb glowed in a distant corner.

“Reid was looking for boxes of Tiffany’s stuff and realized the floor joists weren’t up to current building code. We’re shoring it up.”

Trystan had been given the job of cutting the two-by-fours to size and handing them in. When Logan had turned up, he had crawled in to help Reid. They were currently on their backs in the shallow space, hammering and swearing.

“Was it starting to fail?” Sophie asked with alarm.

“Not at all. Dry as a bone, no rot or termites, not even any warping.”

“Then…?”

“Have you met him?” He meant Reid and his do-it-my-way infernal bossiness.

Instead of laughing, Sophie narrowed her eyes, hearing the edge in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She tilted her head in a silent Come on , annoying him further because she read him so easily.

“He asked me to do something, then he went ahead and did it himself,” Trystan said with simmering heat. And screwed me to the wall while he did it . Or, at least bound him to the tours for the rest of the summer.

I had a thought about the Cloe situation , Reid had said when Trystan had come downstairs. You know Cheryl’s in the business program at UVic? I remembered that Hazel is her aunt.

Hazel was one of the councilors they’d met with this morning. Cheryl was a steward on the Storm Front , the other tour boat. Trystan had seen immediately where Reid was going when Reid had said, I could use a liaison as I put this deal together .

“You’re not upset about this, are you?” Sophie pointed into the hole. “Here’s news, pal. Crawling under a house is actually kind of shitty. Why are you always mad that you’re the step-and-fetch guy? That’s the easy job.”

“Tell me more about how he does me so many favors.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously, Trys.” She lowered her voice. “Why are you so mad?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

It mattered. Reid had gone so far as to speak to Hazel, who thought Cheryl would make an excellent liaison to help set up the framework for the sale of Raven’s Cove to the Heiltsuk Nation. Cheryl would love the opportunity. She had said so when Reid had called her.

I had to call while she was in Bella Coola and had reception , Reid had argued. She’s confident she could fit working for me around her classes once she’s back at school. I need more than clerical help. I need someone who’s invested in the outcome.

Trystan couldn’t argue any of that. He also thought Cheryl would be excellent in the role. He’d been sorry they hadn’t had anything more challenging to offer her than cleaning up after tourists when she had applied as a summer student.

Still, it was so fucking typical for Reid to overturn the entire fucking apple cart so he could put the fruit back the way he wanted it.

What will the Storm Front do for a steward? Trystan had asked, making Reid spell it out.

Sarah can move to the Storm Front. Sarah was Trystan’s steward. She’s prepared to come over tomorrow to train Cloe if you and Cloe agree to her working on the Storm Ridge.

You’ve talked to Sarah, too? Without talking to me?

I’m talking to you right now. Reid was completely unapologetic . We can find anyone to take that job if you don’t want Cloe. Reid was a master at handing out a stone-cold poker face, but Trystan could read his underlying motivation like it was written in neon.

They owed Storm their best effort at welcoming her aunt, but they had to be cautious until they knew Cloe better. That was truer than ever, Trystan acknowledged dourly, given what Cloe had told him about her situation. He wasn’t about to air her business to Reid, though.

Cloe hadn’t had a break in a while and deserved one. This would give her a job, a place to stay, and access to her niece in a way that was limited while they all figured out how far they could trust her.

For that reason, Trystan hadn’t told Reid to go fuck himself, but it meant he would be spending twenty-four seven with Cloe. That was a lot of time with a woman who was already sizzling his blood.

That was why he was so royally peeved. Reid had set him up for weeks of sexual frustration and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

“This will cheer you up,” Sophie said as she leaned into the opening to call out, “Hey, Logan? You want me to come in there and help? I can run home for my two-pound mallet and my eye protection. I’ll get my gloves and kneepads, since I’m wearing shorts.”

“Sophie,” he said in a very dangerous tone. “We agreed that what happened that day will never be mentioned again. If you spill my dirt, I’ll spill yours.”

“Spoilsport.” She was grinning, though.

“What’s that about?” Trystan asked, sensing she was winding Logan up. He was more than happy to hear more.

She pursed her lips. “Private joke, but you’ll like this one. Hey, Reid?”

“Yeah,” Reid said curtly.

“I know for a fact that the boxes are above the walk-in closet. You and Em were in Victoria getting married when these two finished your bedroom. I came to help with the painting and Logan asked me if I thought they should take Tiffany’s things to the thrift store in Bella Bella. I said Em wanted to keep it in case Tiffany’s sister showed up. Trys was too lazy to carry it all the way down here.” She sent him a pithy look. “Logan said that was okay because there was room in the attic.”

Reid released a hacked-off sigh. “I texted both of you before I came in here.”

“That wasn’t a text. It was a riddle,” Trystan argued.

“And don’t pretend you weren’t looking for an excuse to crawl under this house and pound wood,” Logan added.

“I love that Biyen just called you guys grown-ups,” Sophie said.

“You corrected him?” Trystan asked.

“So fast. But for real. Do you guys need help?”

“Nah, we’re almost done. We’ll be up in a few.”

“I’ll let Em know.”