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

Chapter Fourteen

T he next morning was a lazy one. The day was overcast and windy, the ocean a dull gray as they motored up a long inlet. Everyone seemed to find a cozy corner and a cup of something hot where they chatted or read a book. Elodie played cards with the German boys while their parents went back to bed.

Everyone bundled up and went on deck when Trystan cut the engine, though. Porpoises were playing in the tossing surf, making everyone laugh at their antics.

After lunch, they visited another hot spring. No one seemed ambitious enough to try kayaking or hiking and they took turns going ashore so Cloe and Trystan didn’t have any time alone, not until they were at anchor for the night.

All the women had gone to bed, but the two married men were having a nightcap under Johnny’s watchful eye. Cloe had noticed that he and Trystan were not afraid to cut anyone off if they thought they were going to become a safety hazard.

She had just come out of the head after brushing her teeth and found Trystan standing in the open doorway of his cabin. He had already stripped down to the drawstring shorts he seemed to wear to bed and damn that was a lot of beautiful bronze skin.

She swallowed, then glanced toward the burst of laughter that came from the galley.

“Um…” She tried not to ogle as she looked back at him. “Good night.”

“Hey,” he whispered, and cajoled her closer with a jerk of his head.

“What?” She glanced again to the top of the stairs, judging whether anyone saw her cross into his cabin.

He kept the door open, but slid his arm around her waist and drew her tight against his nearly naked frame as he planted a long, hungry kiss on her.

By the time he let her breathe, he was hard, and she was ready to whimper with desire.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he confessed against her mouth.

“Me, too.” She ran her thumb under his waistband, then cupped his erection through the soft jersey.

He buried a groan in the side of her neck and shot his hand under the back of her shirt.

Another shout of laughter had them reluctantly pulling apart.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” He wryly nodded at the tented front of his shorts.

“Think about me while you fall asleep.” She gave a saucy shrug and started to turn away.

He yanked her back and snagged her gaze. “Are you going to be thinking about me while you fall asleep?”

“I did last night.”

“Come on, Cloe,” he breathed as though she’d punched him in the gut. He caught the back of her neck, kissed her once more, hard, then released her. “That’s really fucking hot. And I will. So you’d better.” He patted her ass to send her across into her own cabin.

She did. And imagining him stroking himself to orgasm made hers so powerful, she had to bite back a throaty groan.

She could barely look him in the eye the next morning, especially when he wore such an air of knowing smugness.

“I can’t believe this is our last day,” Stefan said as he slumped onto a stool at the island and helped himself to a strip of bacon.

“It went fast, didn’t it?”

He nodded glumly. Then he told her another story about the bears they’d seen on the river in Bella Coola.

Thankfully, they came upon a pod of orcas on their way to Namu, which also cheered him up.

Namu was another chance to meet up with the Storm Front . This time it was the Storm Front ’s first day and the Storm Ridge ’s last. Johnny and Wayne would take the guests ashore for a walking tour, telling them about the area’s history from the shell middens and other evidence of early hunter-gatherers through its thriving cannery days to its demise into another ghost town after salmon stocks collapsed.

The guests were searching out shoes and something to wear against the spitting rain when Cloe zipped her Raven’s Cove windbreaker and stepped onto the deck with Johnny.

Trystan slowed the engine as they drifted past the skeleton of an old dock, its rickety boards covered in such thick moss, small bushes had begun to grow from it, almost like a garland. A long low building that might have been a rooming house, judging by its many doors, stood upright at one end, but slumped into the ground more and more toward the other end, like a derailed train. Another had a fa?ade that had become nothing but pick-up-sticks, exposing the interior like an open dollhouse.

Jutting out into the harbor was a collection of industrial buildings that must have been the cannery. They were rusted by the splash of salt water and had holes torn here and there by the wind.

“I wish I could go on the tour with you,” Cloe said. “I have to hang back to make lunch. What will I miss?”

“It’s kind of a downer, to be honest,” Johnny confided. “My grandfather has great stories about bringing his family here for the summer. People would come from all over to fish or work in the cannery. Now it’s just an environmental disaster with a bill for cleanup that’s so big, no one wants to touch it.”

“Oof. That’s sad.”

“It is. And people hate having their vacation interrupted by reality, but how else do you get them to give a shit about this planet? It’s the only one we have. Am I the only person who realizes that?”

She gave him an upside-down smile of sympathy.

“This is when I start getting surly,” Johnny added with a rueful look. “I’m almost home after being away from the family all week. I just want to be there.”

Cloe understood. As much as she liked their guests, she was missing Storm and couldn’t wait to have Trystan to herself.

The Storm Front was ahead of them, so those guests were already onshore with Wayne. Cloe and Johnny tied up on the section of wharf that was kept in good repair, then he led their guests up to join the other group.

Cloe gathered the mimosa fixings and followed Trystan as he carried one of the folding tables into a floating shed that was open to the elements on two sides. A couple of logs were mounted across the width. Another had fallen down and one seemed to be missing completely.

“The fishermen used to repair their nets in here.”

It was almost cozy with the rain pattering on the tin roof and the slurp of water on the logs that held it afloat. It was also very private.

After she helped Trystan set the table upright, she thought they might be able to steal a kiss, but Vic, the captain of the Storm Ridge , came in with another table, followed by Sarah, who brought a couple of carafes with, presumably, coffee and hot water.

“Cloe, hi!” Sarah greeted her warmly. “How is it going?”

“Really good. You?” Cloe had wondered a few times if Sarah had been annoyed with her for being relegated to the other boat, but she seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement.

They left the captains to finish setting up the bar for brunch while they went back to the Storm Front to discuss their brunch menu.

“I’ve already boiled some pasta shells to make a salad. I’m fresh out of breakfast items,” Cloe told her. “We’ve got two adolescent boys on board, and I don’t know if they have a bet going or what, but I’m out of eggs, muesli, yogurt, and anything that looks like bread.”

Sarah giggled. “I’ll throw a couple dozen quiche cups into the oven and I’ll cut up our melons. The salad sounds good. We have a vegan on board so no bacon or cheese in that, please. If there’s cream in the dressing, keep it on the side?”

“Will do. And we have cottage cheese to go with the melon. I’ll bring that out.” Cloe nodded and left the Storm Front , heading toward the Storm Ridge , which was tied in front of it.

One of the Storm Front guests was walking toward her. He was kind of bearing down on her, actually.

“ Excuse me,” he said in a way that told her excuses would actually not be tolerated.

“Rick, your office can handle it. Just let it go,” a woman said behind him. She had firm hold of her two young children’s hands.

“No. I should have got this email an hour ago.” He shook his phone at Cloe. “I thought these boats were supposed to be equipped with Wi-Fi? How did my phone only ping when I got off it?”

“Oh my God, Rick. It’s not her fault.”

“She can tell her boss, can’t she? Tell him this is unacceptable.” He took another step toward her that had Cloe dropping back a step, heart hammering in her throat because he was really tall and really angry. “How the hell am I supposed to enjoy my vacation if I can’t work?”

“I’m the boss.” Trystan’s voice came from right behind her, startling her, but his hand was right there on her arm to steady her.

“Yeah? Maybe you can tell me why the hell your boat doesn’t have decent Wi-Fi? We paid enough. We ought to have it.”

Trystan gently steered Cloe one step to the side, then folded his arms. His feet were planted so firmly, she would dare a charging bull to shift him one inch on this rolling wharf.

Meanwhile, the other man seemed to forget they were on the water and staggered slightly, then frowned crossly as though someone had pushed him.

“Cloe, would you take the kids onto the Storm Front ? Ask Sarah to get them something to eat while I work this out.”

“Sure.” Her voice came out more squeaky than she would have liked. She held out her hands. “Are you guys hungry?”

“Uh-huh.” The little girl of six or so came straight up to grab her hand, but the boy was closer to eight and quick to shake off his mother’s hand and ignore Cloe’s.

“No running,” Trystan warned sternly as the boy started to leap forward.

Cloe bit her lip and quickly guided the kids aboard the Storm Front .

“Hi, Sarah. You probably already know these two,” Cloe said with high-voiced cheer as she helped the kids get settled at the island.

“I do. Hi, Kingston. Hi, Lily. Did you guys get hungry?” Sarah flicked Cloe a glance that said Ohmygawd .

The window over the sink was open, so there was no need for Cloe to explain anything.

While Sarah made PB and J sandwiches, Cloe glanced outside to see Trystan had taken the couple into the shed.

“Are you okay if I…?” She pointed forward to the Storm Ridge .

“Oh, yeah.” Sarah nodded.

Cloe hurried over to her own galley where she finished making her salad. She was still a little shaken when she noticed the couple heading back to the Storm Front with Trystan.

Since the coast was clear, she took all her food into the empty shed.

By the time she had set out her contribution, Sarah was bringing in the hot quiches and guests were returning, all rubbing hands and hunched against the rain that had settled in as a steady patter.

Cloe was wiping a spill from beside the cottage cheese when Kingston said, “Wayne said you have hot chocolate.”

“We do.” A small jolt of alarm went through her as she recognized him. She glanced around, but didn’t see his father, only his mom and sister. They were coming toward her. “Sarah has it by the coffee.” Cloe pointed.

“Take your sister and ask her nicely,” his mother said, joining Lily’s hand into his and pushing the pair toward Sarah before she smiled at Cloe. “Hi. I’m Mel. I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cloe said mildly. Certainly not for her husband. It was his responsibility to own up to being a jackass, not that she expected to get anything close to an apology out of him. The customer was always right, right?

“I do, though.” Mel glanced around and lowered her voice. “I’ve been asking for a divorce. Rick said he would change. I said, ‘Prove it. Let’s go on vacation. Leave your phone at home.’” Her mouth flattened into a hard line.

“Oh.” Cloe crinkled her brow in sympathy, but she absolutely refused to let the words I’m sorry pass her own lips. “That’s rough. I hope the rest of your vacation is less stressful.”

“It will be—Kingston,” she cried. “Get down from there.” He was sitting on a log like he was on horseback.

Good luck, lady .

Out of pity, Cloe asked Stefan if he would show the kids where to look along the shoreline for otters.

When Sarah started packing up the leftover food, Cloe took her cue and began taking her own dishes back to the Storm Ridge .

As she left the shed and crossed the wharf, she saw Rick the Jerk was aboard the Storm Ridge , pacing the deck and looking even more surly than he had been when he had accosted her.

Ugh. She did not want to be the one to tell him he was on the wrong boat.

Trystan came out of the saloon and said, “Rick has a work emergency. The flight from Bella Bella has a seat so we’re taking him back with us.”

“Oh.” Her brain blanked as Trystan came onto the steps and took the plastic bin from her. One glimpse into his face stopped her heart.

“I’ll put this away,” Trystan said. “You get the rest.”

“Thanks.”

The mood was still thick and unpleasant when Cloe came back with the rest of the dishes. She would have brushed straight past the other man, but Trystan came on deck again, still glowering.

“Sorry for yelling at you,” Rick mumbled with such resentment he shouldn’t have bothered.

“No problem,” Cloe mumbled back and went inside while Trystan went to get their folding table.

The guests didn’t seem to notice the undercurrents when they all came aboard. They were distracted with doing final checks for belongings while Trystan motored them back to Bella Bella. They watched some orcas from a distance, but most of the guests needed to catch the plane so they couldn’t stop and linger.

Everyone except Brielle and Elodie disembarked in Bella Bella. The mother and daughter were spending a couple of nights at the lodge in Raven’s Cove before taking the ferry back to Vancouver Island.

Once the Storm Ridge was empty, Cloe breathed out a huge sigh and began stripping beds and gathering all the used towels before she began a thorough clean of every stateroom and head.

While she worked, Trystan took them across to top up the fuel and fresh water. When they came back to the wharf, Reid was there, waiting to catch the lines.

“Thanks,” Cloe said, surprised that he came aboard. “Is everything okay? Is Storm?”

“Still napping. Em’s with her. Is that all the trash?” Reid eyed the bag.

“It should be, yes. Thanks.” She was bemused as he gave the bag a spin and tied it off.

“What are you doing here?” Trystan asked as he came down from the bridge.

“POD,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Please tell me you were going to buy her a beer.”

“I was, yeah,” Trystan said.

“I’ll buy.” Reid gave a good-natured nod. “After I help get everything squared away here. Em will join us as soon as Storm’s up.”

Cloe opened her mouth to say she didn’t really like beer, but Trystan said, “Thanks,” which seemed to accept for both of them.

He took up the hose for washing the deck and Reid walked away with the trash so Cloe didn’t have a chance to ask what a POD was. Proof of Delivery? She got back to cleaning the fridge and putting the last load of dishes away from the dishwasher. Reid returned from disposing of the trash and started to squeegee all the windows so they sparkled.

“That took less time than it usually does,” Trystan said when he and Reid were shouldering the laundry bags to take them up to the lodge.

“Oh, look at what the cat is dragging in.” Reid nodded at where Logan was striding toward them in shorts and a T-shirt. “A day late and a dollar short, as usual.”

“I was mowing the lawn!” Logan said defensively. “Sophie was in the garden. Call the landline next time so we hear it. I just saw Em’s text. I’ll buy, all right?” He patted his pockets. “Actually, I forgot my wallet.”

“There’s a shock.” Reid exchanged a tired look with Trystan. They both shook their heads with disgust.

“Geez. Tough crowd here today. I’ll text Sophie to bring it.” Logan was still patting his pockets. “Actually, I forgot my phone, too. I was in a hurry!” he added as his brothers both scoffed. “You text her,” Logan told Trystan. “I’ll take this and meet you in there.” He took the laundry bag off Trystan. “Get that girl a beer.” Logan nodded at Cloe and started up the wharf. Reid was right behind him with the other bag of laundry.

“I don’t usually drink beer,” Cloe confided to Trystan, wrinkling her nose. “Plus, there’s enough on board. Why go to the pub?”

“Hmm?” Trystan lifted his head from texting. “Wine, then. Have a root beer float. Get whatever you want.” His phone dinged and he snorted at the screen. “Sophie says she’s already on her way. She says Logan would just expense it anyway, so put it on the company account. She’s so shameless. Everything is locked up.” He pocketed his phone. “You just have to get that one.”

Baffled, Cloe closed the door into the saloon and touched the button to lock it.

“What exactly is a POD?” she asked as she dropped to the wharf and followed him to the ramp.

“Prick of the Day. It’s a fun little tradition my dad started.”

“You sound like you’re being sarcastic.”

“It’s not exactly something you want to win.” He paused at the top of the ramp. “But if you do, the consolation is that someone buys you a beer.”

“Trystan!” Biyen shouted as he raced across the grassy verge from the lane. “Mom just told me what POD means.”

“She did?” Trystan shot an astonished look to Cloe, then across to where Sophie was making her way toward them at a walking pace. She wore shorts and a T-shirt and a messy ponytail.

“It should be PPOD if it’s Party-Pooper of the Day,” Biyen said.

“You got that right. Tell Cloe what else your mom said about it. She’s never heard of it before,” Trystan prompted.

“It’s when a customer is really annoying and ruins your day, but you think you can’t tell them to go to heck because you would get fired. Instead, you keep your temper and put up with their poopiness. Then you tell your boss, and he buys you a beer to thank you for your patience. I’m sorry someone was poopy to you, Cloe.” He slipped his hand into hers as they finished walking to the door to the pub. “People should just be nice to each other. It’s not that hard.”

“Right? I just said that myself the other day.” And her throat was closing, she was so in love with this kid.

“Nice improv,” Trystan said to Sophie as she caught up to them at the door he held.

“I thought so. What happened?”

“Guy on the Storm Front thought Cloe was singularly responsible for our Wi-Fi connectivity and lack thereof.”

“Ew.” Sophie curled her lip. “Sorry about that, Cloe.”

“I barely spoke to him,” she said, starting to grow embarrassed that they were making such a big deal of it.

Biyen yanked his sweaty palm out of hers and ran away. He’d spotted Emma coming with the stroller. They all stayed at the open door, waiting for her.

“Trystan should be the one to get a beer. He handled him,” Cloe said, trying to deflect.

“Trystan radioed Reid and told him to find that asshat a flight before I cooled his temper in the sound,” Trystan said grimly. Then he added with irony, “I would have booked the flight myself, but the signal is pretty shitty.”

They all chuckled.

“It’s good the Storm Front crew won’t have to put up with him,” Sophie said.

As Biyen and Emma approached, they could hear him repeating the party-pooper information, which was making Emma bite back a grin.

“For what it’s worth, his wife is divorcing him,” Cloe said. “I’m sure that contributed to his bad mood. But he actually said, ‘How am I supposed to enjoy my vacation if I can’t work?’”

“Oof. Why is it always the vacationers who offer the worst lip? The skippers on the working vessels aren’t ever as sexist to me—probably because they come through here often enough that Gramps set them straight ages ago. If someone ever questioned my ability and demanded to see the manager, I’d send Gramps to talk to them. He’d cut them off after ten seconds and say something like, ‘I don’t work half as fast as she does. If you want to stick around a week, I can fix it for you. Or Sophie can get you on your way in an hour.’ They hated it.” Sophie loved it. It was obvious in her evil grin. “God, I miss him,” she added as her smile turned upside down.

Trystan threw his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her into his side, which caused jealousy to stab into Cloe with incredible force. She disguised it by ducking to say hello to Storm.

“You guys are letting all the AC out,” Quinley complained from inside the pub.

They walked through the busy restaurant and out onto the patio. Clouds were building across the sky, promising a summer storm, but they pushed together a pair of tables, one of them still covered in dirty dishes, and took their chairs.

“I would have thought it would be quiet this time of day,” Cloe said, glancing at the full tables.

“This long weekend going into August is the peak,” Sophie told Cloe. “After this it starts to slow down. By Labor Day, it’s so quiet, I’m scraping paint to make my days go by.”

“Who’s watching paint dry?” Logan asked as he came outside with a bus pan.

“Reid, presumably,” Emma said. “Where did you lose him?”

“He’s leaving his card with Quinley. I told him I would just expense this anyway.” He accepted the dishes they all handed him, stacking the tub so the table was clear.

“You called it,” Trystan said with a smirk toward Sophie. He looped Cloe in with a lingering, amused glance in her direction and, for once, she felt like she was in on the joke with these people.

“Called what?” Logan asked, using one of the wet wipes that Emma brought out to wipe the table. “Never mind. I don’t care. Sorry about the POD, Cloe. We’ve all been there. Best to erase it with—Where’s our beer?” he asked Reid as Reid came out to take the chair next to Emma.

“Quinley is only one person. She’s making the pitchers of margaritas you ordered. I asked for nachos to keep us going while we decide if we’re eating here or up at the house. I don’t feel like cooking. You?” He glanced at Emma.

“I don’t mind cooking,” Cloe offered tentatively.

“Good. You can cook tomorrow,” Logan said. “Reid’s buying tonight.”

“And you wonder why we call you the lazy one,” Trystan said.

“I thought we called him shifty?” Reid said.

“That, too,” Trystan agreed.

“I think it’s super hot when you get other people to cook for me.” Sophie gave Logan an adoring look.

“I think he sounds like Gramps.” Biyen didn’t look up from playing patty-cake with Storm, who was still in her stroller. “That man loved a free meal.”

Everyone burst out laughing, but Sophie laughed so hard, tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. She rose to leave the table.

“Babe.” Logan stood, frowning with concern.

“I’m okay. Honestly.” She was still breathless. “I just need to blow my nose.” She kissed the top of Biyen’s head. “I love you, buddy. You’re the best.” She took the tub of dirty dishes with her.

“She doing okay?” Trystan asked Logan as he retook his seat.

“Good days and bad. Mostly good, right, Champ?” he asked Biyen.

“Yeah. She cried the other day because I asked when you guys are getting married. She got sad that Gramps wouldn’t be there.”

“Yeah,” Logan said heavily, then added with a more self-deprecating tone. “Then she said that won’t change so we might as well get it over with.”

While Cloe bit back a choke of laughter, Trystan asked, “Has she been going to the Reid Fraser School of Romance?”

“I won’t hear a single word against my star pupil.” Reid sent a hard look around the table.

“Shush, all of you. You’re missing the important part.” Emma leaned forward with anticipation. “Have you guys set a date ?”

“I think so?” Logan looked to the door as it opened.

Quinley came out with the pitchers of margaritas and a Shirley Temple that she set in front of Biyen. Sophie was behind her, carrying a tray of glasses.

“That’s from Uncle Reid,” Sophie said to her son. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Uncle Reid.” Biyen snatched it up and Storm immediately reached both hands for it.

“Sorry, kiddo. You get water.” Emma offered Storm’s sippy cup to her.

“Can I hold her?” Cloe asked.

“Sure.” Emma brought her out, then sprinkled a few cheese cubes on a plate so Storm happily sat in Cloe’s lap while she ate them.

Once all the drinks were poured and Quinley had gone back inside, Emma said, “Well?”

“Well, what?” Sophie asked blankly, holding her glass aloft for clinks.

“Logan said you’ve set a date.”

“For what? Oh.” She chuckled. “You didn’t tell them what I said.”

“I absolutely did.”

“Not my finest moment, but yeah, we thought Thanksgiving. It’s pretty quiet here in October, but the weather isn’t fully awful yet.”

“Um…” Cloe started to say.

“Canadian Thanksgiving is October,” Trystan leaned closer to say, brushing his arm against hers and stalling her breath. His foot shifted to align with hers, too.

“It should be quiet enough that we could get away for a few days afterward. If one of you could cover the marina?” Logan looked between his brothers.

“And maybe you could keep Biyen?” Sophie asked Emma. “He’ll be in school.”

“We’d love that.” Emma nodded with enthusiasm.

They all clinked and congratulated the couple and Cloe forced herself to keep her smile on her face, already sure that she would miss it because the tours would be long over by then.

“While we’re talking childcare, we were hoping you two could manage Storm while we visit Miriam?” Emma said. “Reid got us flights a week from this Friday. Logan would have her on the weekend, then you’d have her Sunday and Monday night, Trys. We’d come back Tuesday afternoon.”

“We can make that work.” Trystan and Logan shared a nod.

“I’ll tell Mom to come that weekend,” Logan said. “So she can help if we need her.”

“We don’t need Glenda,” Trystan said with exasperation.

“Excuse me for getting engaged.” Logan held up his hands like he was being robbed. “My mother asked when would be a good time to come see the only person she loves more than me.”

“Me?” Biyen asked with a silly grin.

“Definitely you, bud.” Sophie skimmed her hand over his hair.

The conversation turned to meetings that Reid had had with Cheryl, then other resort business, all of it interspersed with teasing and dunks on each other.

After dinner, they walked up to the house with Reid and Emma, where Cloe and Trystan took turns showering. Cloe kept it to a quick rinse on the Storm Ridge and the water had a slight chemical smell so it was nice to have a proper scrub.

Once Storm went down for the night, she and Trystan meandered back to the Storm Ridge .

“That was fun,” she sighed.

“It was,” Trystan agreed. “But I couldn’t wait for it to be over.”

“Why—?” She caught the look he sent her and her whole body tightened with anticipation. “Oh.”