Mine Until Moonrise Read online

  Mine Until Moonrise

  Jennifer Bernard

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Bernard

  Chapter One

  It couldn’t be good that Megan’s passengers were singing the theme song from Gilligan’s Island—“a tale of a fateful trip.” Or that two of them were snoring loudly. Halfway back to Lost Harbor and they still hadn’t sighted anything for the tourists to write home about. She’d better come up with something fast, or her online reviews were going to be brutal.

  They were just passing Bird Rock, where thousands of birds congregated in the summer. Surely there had to be at least one species that her passengers could get excited about. Guillemots, auks and sea ducks only went so far. Megan fished under her bright yellow rain jacket for her binoculars. She didn’t mind the way the ocean spray misted her face and sent her hair into a soggy, bedraggled frizz—but her precious Zeiss Victory SFs had to be protected at all costs.

  “Stop the boat!” she shouted a second later. “I got something!”

  The Forget Me Not lurched to half its previous speed. Her passengers slid across the bench seats, clutching each other and laughing.

  Still captivated by the shape that had just caught her eye, Megan gestured an apology at her passengers. “Sorry, everyone, I get carried away when I spot something extra special.”

  Luckily, her boat was an old tub built to ride out the worst Alaska storms. Her passengers were unlikely to go overboard, although the chances of springing a leak were essentially a hundred percent. Her boat pilot—she thought of him as Captain Kid, since he’d just barely reached the age at which he could legally captain a boat—had warned her of a new one just this morning.

  After a quick check to make sure everyone was still onboard, she aimed her binoculars off the starboard bow. “This is a very lucky day, you guys. Do you see that blob of white just on the tip of that cliff face?”

  Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing, to the jagged fortress of rocks. Waves crashed at its base, while seagulls tilted and wheeled above it. Their crying made a lonely sound, even though they were probably just chatting about the nearest bed of oysters.

  “That’s called Bird Rock, for a good reason. Hundreds of species stop here over the course of the summer. Some of them nest, some are just passing through. But today…” She focused closer on the elegant white plumage with the black cap and deep orange bill.

  “Looks like the entire cliff is white,” said one of her tourist passengers.

  “Yes, there’s a lot of bird poop everywhere,” Megan answered absently. “You can smell it if we get close. Should we get closer? Ben, can we get closer?”

  “Sure thing.” Ben—Captain Kid—answered from inside the wheelhouse as he turned the Forget Me Not toward Bird Rock.

  “Mama, can I drive just this little bit?” Ruby piped up from her usual spot next to Ben. Her little eight-year-old city girl had a new goal in life—getting permission to pilot the Forget Me Not.

  Not happening. Definitely not happening.

  “In ten years, absolutely,” Megan called to her daughter from her spot on the stern deck. The tourists laughed sympathetically.

  “Sweet saints alive. I see it. Is that…a Caspian tern?” one of them exclaimed. “Unusual to see them so far north, no?”

  Megan smiled under her binoculars. Moments like this told her she’d done the right thing coming to Lost Harbor. These passengers—mostly elderly retirees with a passion for nature—were her kindred spirits. Where else could an entire boatful of people—okay, so she only had five customers today, but the season was still early—sigh in unison at the rare sighting?

  The Forget Me Not was now close enough to Bird Rock so that she could clearly make out the Caspian tern’s ruffled plumage.

  “Ruby, come on out here, I want you to see this.” She beckoned to her daughter. Ruby came skipping out of the wheelhouse in her brown rubber boots and her polka dot slicker and once again Megan experienced that overwhelming sensation of being exactly where she was supposed to be.

  Ruby loved Alaska. She loved Misty Bay and the glacial peaks of Lost Souls Wilderness arrayed on the other side of the bay. She never got seasick the way Megan sometimes did. The cold didn’t bother her. She never got bored on the water. When things got slow, she curled up in the wheelhouse with a backpack full of math books.

  I made the right choice coming here. Just look at that face!

  Smiling, Megan held out her hand to Ruby, whose face glowed as she darted across the deck.

  And then everything happened at once.

  Another boat roared between them and Bird Rock. A cloud of cawing birds flapped into the air. The wake of the passing boat rippled toward them in a curl of white. Ruby’s boot hit a patch of water and she wheeled her arms to keep her balance. Megan flung herself across the deck to grab Ruby’s arm. Even though her daughter was laughing hysterically, Megan’s imagination had already conjured up the image of Ruby launching over the railing into the ocean.

  “Hey!” she yelled at the boat. Through the spray misting the air between the two vessels, she recognized the culprit. Of course. The F/V Jack Hammer. Fishing charter to the wealthy. Her nemesis. Destroyer of peace. Ruiner of everything.

  Standing on the back of the deck, a dark-haired man in sunglasses and full waders raised a gloved hand in apology.

  Lucas Holt.

  The first time they’d met, he’d rudely called her an “ignoramus” and lectured her about a “Boating Basics” class. Things hadn’t gotten any better since then.

  Had she really just been thinking that Lost Harbor was exactly where she was supposed to be? It would have been absolutely perfect except for one person—the man pretending to be sorry for nearly capsizing them.

  “I don’t accept your apology!” she shouted after the boat. Its stern seemed to mock her, the giant twin engines thumbing their noses at her. Had Lucas intended to mess with her Caspian tern sighting? She wouldn’t put it past him, even though he probably had no idea how exciting it was to see one.

  Scratch that. Of course he knew. Lucas had grown up here and knew quite a bit about the wildlife. As he’d put it to her once—“the birds help me find the fish. The fish help me find the money. So yeah, I’ve learned what I need to know about birds.”

  God, she hated him.

  “Mama!” Ruby tugged her arm out of Megan’s grip. “You’re squishing me.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. I thought you were about to go over the side.”

  “I’m wearing my float vest.”

  “Of course you are.” Megan wouldn’t let Ruby step foot on any boat without a PFD. “But that water would turn you into an ice
cube in about twenty seconds.”

  “The Caspian tern is gone.” The disappointment in her passengers’ voice made her heart sink. There went half her tips. All thanks to Lucas Holt and his irresponsible boating practices.

  “We can hang out here for a little bit and see if he comes back.” Megan glanced back at Ben, who was busy navigating the wake of the Jack Hammer.

  Jack Hammer. Was there ever such a stupid name for a boat? It had been named by Lucas’ father, Jack “the Hammer” Holt—someone arrogant enough to name a boat after himself.

  Maybe arrogance ran in the family.

  “But we have lunch reservations,” said one of the tourists.

  “Oh, that’s not a problem. Lunch is included.” She waved her hand at the cooler that sat against the wheelhouse. “Juice boxes and a selection of healthy sandwiches.”

  The passengers glanced amongst themselves. “Yes, but our reservations are for all-you-can-eat King Crab legs.”

  “Right. Of course.” She caught Ben’s eye and jerked her head in the direction of the harbor. If she had her wish, she’d head the other way, toward the point, where she’d once spotted a Wandering Tattler and an orca had surfaced about three yards away.

  But not everyone had her stamina when it came to wildlife viewing. Some people actually had lives, and lunch reservations.

  Captain Kid, looking relieved, swung the wheel so the Forget Me Not headed for the harbor. He probably had lunch plans too.

  Well, so did she. She planned to eat sandwiches out of a cooler with Ruby. Because at this rate, that was all she could afford. Unless business started to pick up, she wouldn’t even be able to fuel the Forget Me Not. It would become the Fuel Me Not.

  “Why are you laughing, Mama?” Ruby tugged at her hand. “It’s that weird laugh when you’re thinking something mean. You aren’t mad at Lucas, are you? I didn’t go overboard.”

  “No, but you could have. Thanks for reminding me. I’m going to talk to him as soon as we get back to the harbor.”

  Ruby tilted her head up, her wide dark eyes sparkling. “Mama, he’s actually pretty nice. You just don’t believe it.”

  “Maybe he’s nice to you, which I appreciate. But not to me. I’m going to talk to him, and then depending on what he says, report him to the harbormaster.”

  “You already did that.”

  So she had—and the sound of the harbormaster’s laughter still echoed on certain late nights when she relived the whole saga of her and Lucas.

  “And I’ll do it again. Someone’s got to speak up.”

  Ruby shrugged, losing interest. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

  The Forget Me Not hit a swell and its aluminum frame vibrated with the impact. Megan grabbed the railing with one hand and Ruby with the other. Her binoculars bumped against her chest. “We’ll eat as soon as we tie up.”

  “Pizza?” Ruby asked hopefully.

  “Sandwiches. Lots of sandwiches.”

  Chapter Two

  The Forget Me Not, carefully following the five-mile-per-hour no-wake rule, glided through the harbor toward the slip Megan rented. Before she’d come to Lost Harbor, she’d never imagined all the costs associated with running a boat. She hadn’t needed to, since she’d been hired as a naturalist guide. But just after she’d arrived, when she was still getting her bearings, everything had changed.

  With only a few weeks left in the season—it was late August—the owner had gotten into a huge fight with her life partner, packed up all her belongings in her RV and offered the business to Megan.

  Megan had, of course, discussed it with her ex-husband, Dev. Although she had primary custody of Ruby, Dev was still very involved in Ruby’s life. She and Dev had met in grad school—she’d been studying ornithology, he’d been studying business. Their marriage had been the only impulsive thing Dev had ever done. Megan, on the other hand, specialized in “impulsive.”

  Just look at the way she’d fled to this faraway Alaska outpost.

  Even though their marriage had only lasted a few months, Megan appreciated many things about Dev. He was financially responsible. He didn’t do drama. He loved Ruby. He respected their agreements.

  They’d never gone to court to settle custody issues. Instead they relied on a professional mediator back in San Francisco. Poor Eliza Burke had the patience of a hundred saints.

  Her move to Alaska had required three sessions with Eliza.

  “I get why you want to leave the Bay Area,” he’d grumbled after they’d hammered out a plan. “But why does it have to be Alaska?”

  “We need a change.”

  She needed a change. And he knew the reason perfectly well, though they never talked about it.

  “If Ruby doesn’t like it, she can always come stay with me.”

  “That’s the thing—it was her idea. That’s why I considered it in the first place. Talk to her yourself, you’ll see!”

  In the end, Dev had given his consent and offered financial help. He still thought it was insane, but Ruby had talked him into it. He was such a sucker when it came to Ruby.

  Not that she was any better. As they passed Last Chance Pizza, with its deck overlooking the harbor, Ruby made a pleading face at Megan.

  She rolled her eyes in a gesture Ruby knew how to read perfectly well. Fine. You win. Pizza with Zoe, the owner of the restaurant, was no hardship, after all. Zoe was Megan’s closest friend in Lost Harbor, the only one who’d accepted her immediately. She’d tried to win over the other “harbor rats”—people who worked on the boardwalk—with cupcakes and kindness, but it was a slow process.

  They cruised past more businesses along the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor. Ice cream shops, local crafts stores, restaurants, fishing charter offices, bear-viewing outfits.

  When Dev had done his analysis of the business environment of Lost Harbor, Alaska, he’d been very impressed. “They do an excellent job catering to the tourist traffic. The fishing charters in particular do very well. Can you transform the Forget Me Not into—”

  “No.”

  “But the ROI would likely be exponentially—”

  “No. I’m not here to fish. I want to use my almost-degree in a way that allows me to spend time with my daughter. It’s perfect, Dev.”

  “Fine. But I estimate you have about a twenty-one percent chance of making a profit.”

  “Really? That actually gives me hope, Dev. Thanks. I figured it was more like negative five percent.”

  “That might be more accurate,” he admitted.

  She hated to say it, but Dev was probably right. Her main problem was that the cost of fuel kept rising. Or maybe it was that boat repairs were expensive and the Forget Me Not had more leaks than a salad spinner.

  Or that she couldn’t steer a boat and be a guide at the same time, and therefore had to hire Captain Kid. Or that she couldn’t afford her own office and therefore had to rent a virtual closet in the back of the Jack Hammer Fishing Charters office. The receptionist, Carla, only answered the Forget Me Not Nature Tours phone line when she wasn’t busy. Plenty of potential bookings went straight to voicemail.

  Or maybe her biggest problem was that her marketing efforts screamed “science geek.” Or that…but why keep torturing herself? Sure she had challenges, but what new business owner didn’t? The summer season had just begun—her first full summer running nature tours out of Lost Harbor. It wasn’t over yet. She could still make this work.

  Miracles could happen.

  The Forget Me Not bumped against the side of the float, which had a long strip of carpet fastened to it to cushion the impact. She jumped out and grabbed the bow line. As soon as the Forget Me Not settled into place, she wound the line around a cleat. Ruby had followed her off the boat and was doing the same thing to the aft line.

  Aft line. She’d never even put those two words together until she’d come to Lost Harbor.

  She offered Ruby a high five. Her daughter slammed her palm a little too hard, as she always did. Captain Kid
came out of the wheelhouse and unlatched the gate on the starboard side. Together, they all helped the passengers off the boat and onto the float. The guests said things like, “Lovely trip,” “Too bad about that Caspian tern,” and “Where’s the nearest restroom?”

  She was in the midst of pointing it out when Lucas Holt strode past. He’d shucked his waders and wore work pants tucked into rubber boots, along with an obviously hand-knit sweater the color of smoke.

  It smelled like smoke, too—like wood smoke curling through crystal clear air on a winter’s night. She had a quick image of him kneeling next to a campfire, blowing on the flames, while she snuggled under a blanket to keep warm.

  She shook it off. It was just a fantasy, because she and Lucas Holt would never find themselves camping together, anywhere. She’d rather run into Lost Souls Wilderness across the bay and take her chances with the bears.

  Usually Lucas ignored her and her passengers. They weren’t his speed; they didn’t bring coolers of beer on the boat or boast about the size of their last catch. But this time he paused and cast a charming smile across her little crew of elderly naturalists.

  “Sorry about the close call out there. I’m training a new guy. He still has a few things to learn. I hope no one got wet because of that bonehead move.”

  Lucas had dark hair and dark stubble and dark eyes and no wonder she secretly called him Lucifer. But he was good-looking; she had to admit that.

  Not that it mattered. Character was what counted. Not looks.