Yeah, if only for the next thirty-six hours, she planned on being the friend to him that he was to her in that raft. Save his life right back.
Leaves kicked up, scampered across the overlook. She watched the waves comb the shore, water soaking the pebbled surface before washing away, leaving the glitter of the sun behind. Overhead, a seagull cried, echoing into the breeze.
“Let’s get this over with,” Owen said and climbed back into the car.
He said nothing more as they wound along the shore toward home.
Owen had described Deep Haven as a fishing town, and Scotty had expected a small port city like Dutch Harbor, with vessels at a dock, fishmongers peddling fresh trout or herring. Instead, as their rental topped the hill that overlooked the little town, she saw what she’d describe more as a postcard hamlet, with quaint shops and cafés bordering the shoreline and rocky harbor. A few sailboats rocked in the waves in the middle of the harbor, and a spiral of smoke curled from the smokehouse near the docks. A banner hung high from two tall poles, the entrance to Main Street: Home of the Deep Haven Huskies.
Owen sat up and wrapped his arms around his waist as he leaned forward between the two bucket seats. “World’s Best Donuts, dead ahead. And over there—” he pointed to the lighthouse jutting from the end of a long cement pier—“we’d jump into the lake every Fourth of July.”
“If you’re wondering, the lake is about forty degrees by then,” Casper said. “We have exactly two coffee shops, four hotels, seven restaurants, and twelve gift shops, including two fudge emporiums, a pizza joint named Pierre’s, and a custard shop,” he added.
“I thought you were a fishing town,” Scotty said.
“We are,” Owen said. “Except we do our fishing in the BWCA.”
“The Boundary Waters Canoe Area,” Casper said. “Although there are a few commercial outfits that go out on the big lake every day.”
He turned just before Main Street and headed up the hill. “Ten miles to home.”
Owen sat back, his breathing hard. Deep. Scotty noted the tight set of his jaw.
They passed the high school, the football stadium that overlooked the lake, then the hospital, with the helicopter on the pad. Then they climbed another hill, and she watched as the town dropped away into a bowl of charm. Victorians dotted the hills, tucked between evergreens and dogwoods and mountain ash.
“It’s a Norman Rockwell painting,” Scotty said.
Owen let out a long sigh, and it made her turn. “Owen, breathe,” she said. But he looked so miserable, she couldn’t take it. She unhooked her seat belt.
“What are you doing?” Casper said, touching his brakes.
“Keep driving. At this moment, it’s not you who I’m worried will make a break for it.” She climbed between the two seats. “Scoot over.”
Owen made a face but obeyed, and she settled beside him. Then she gave in to the urge to take his face in her hands. Met his beautiful, troubled expression.
“Owen,” she said softly. “We did it. Just like you wanted in the raft. You don’t have to dream of your mother’s cookies anymore—you’ll get them. I’ll even rake you a pile of leaves to jump in. I promise it’s going to be fine.”
He managed a half smile.
“I’m waiting for a ‘Yes, sir.’”
What she didn’t expect, however, was the way his smile fell, his gaze roaming her face just for a second, then falling to her lips.
Nor did she expect her heart to stall, right there in her chest, as he tugged on her jacket lapel and pulled her closer.
For him to kiss her, a whisper of longing in the touch of his lips.
She surprised herself with her surrender, letting him kiss her ever so sweetly, lingering as his fingers moved behind her neck to cup it, draw her closer.
Owen.
He tasted of coffee, and his beard scratched her chin, but right then, incredibly, everything dropped away. Casper, the tension of meeting Owen’s family, even Scotty’s resolve.
Especially her resolve.
Because Owen had a way of making her forget herself. Owen, the guy from the boat who’d followed her into her cabin because he’d thought she was hurt, the hero who’d followed her into a stormy sea. The incorrigible charmer who’d purposely made her angry so she’d fight to stay alive.
This Owen, she knew.
She found her hands on his wide, powerful shoulders and managed to steady herself, hold on.
And she couldn’t deny the regret when he pulled away.
This Owen, she could have loved.
His thumb ran over her cheek. “I feel better, thanks.” A slow smile crept up his face.
Scotty rolled her eyes, feeling her own smile. “I’ll bet.”
“Everybody’s feeling just spiffy,” Casper said.
“Just drive, Casp. The sooner I get this over with, the better.” Owen had her hand again, this time clasped with their fingers intertwined, clearly not intending on letting go.
She glanced toward Casper as he slowed, turned onto an access road. He met her eyes in the rearview mirror and shook his head as if in reprimand.
They followed the road through a jeweled forest, then past a sign: Evergreen Lodge Outfitter and Cabin Rentals.
Owen’s grip tightened.
The road opened onto an expansive parking lot, and then, before Scotty, the resort came into view. Like a fairyland nestled inside a tall line of white pines. She made out tiny cedar-sided cabins, some with smoke curling from their chimneys. An SUV with a license plate from Wisconsin and a Honda from Canada filled two of the spaces.
Straight ahead, a two-story lodge cut off a direct view of the lake, but she spied it beyond the house, blue and inviting, rippling in the wind, with smaller cabins dotting its shoreline. The lodge, with its log siding and green roof, looked conjured right out of the land as if it had always belonged, since the dawn of time. It had two entrances, one labeled Office, the other sporting a pumpkin and a straw scarecrow, dressed in flannel and denim, perched on a rattan chair.
Casper parked next to a truck with the resort’s name stenciled on the door. “Let the wild rumpus begin.”
Owen stared out the window, unmoving.
“C’mon,” Scotty said as Casper got out. Owen reached for the handle, then with a small moan—probably not entirely physical—pushed himself out of the car. She scrambled out behind him.
The air smelled of the loam of the forest, woodsmoke, and not a little evergreen from the trees edging the property. Beyond that stretched a wasteland of scrub brush.
“We had a forest fire a few years ago,” Casper said. “Darek spent about fifty grand on trees to frame the property with evergreen.”
“Where’d he get that kind of money?” Owen said.
Casper clamped him on the shoulder. “You’ll find out.”
Scotty still had Owen’s hand and felt him jerk when the door to the lodge opened. She drew up beside him as a woman ran out, her long blonde hair in a ponytail. “Casper! You’re back!”
She jumped into Casper’s arms, and he twirled her around. Raina?
“That’s Grace, my sister,” Owen said, making no move toward the house. “She married Max.”
Oh, the one who caused his accident.
Casper put his sister down. “Look who I found.”
Scotty had only guessed at the impact of Owen’s absence, had surmised that his family missed him, but she and Red went for months without talking, so she hadn’t thought it earth-shattering. Until she saw Grace’s face.
She stood in the middle of the driveway, her mouth open, her eyes glazing. “Owen?”
Scotty dropped his hand. Stepped back.
And Grace launched herself at her brother. “Owen!” He grunted as she put her arms around his neck, holding on, burying her face in his shoulder. “Oh, Owen.”
“Easy there,” Scotty said as she came up beside him. “He’s still recovering.”
But Owen had put his arms around his sister, apparently disr
egarding the pain.
Their sweet connection in the car vanished. Scotty could feel Owen detaching from her, sinking into the welcome of his sister.
But this was right—how it should be—and her heart almost burst with an odd bubble of joy for him.
Her words must have caught up to Grace because she lifted her head, put her hands on Owen’s shoulders, disentangled herself from his embrace. “Why—what happened?”
The answer came easily. “He saved my life after I got washed overboard, and nearly died himself.”
A gift to Owen, so easily surrendered, and it had exactly the impact she’d hoped. Tears cut down Grace’s face, something of admiration in her expression. “That’s my brother.”
Scotty could nearly see the coiled darkness inside Owen unwind at his sister’s words. The prodigal, freed, returning to the arms of his family.
The door opened again, and Scotty looked up to see an older man wearing a blue baseball cap, a flannel shirt, and jeans step out of the house. While he clamped his hand on Casper’s shoulder in passing, he made directly for Owen.
Owen looked up. “Hey, Dad.”
What Scotty would give to see that look on Red’s face. Except maybe she had in the car—a fleeting look that said everything this one did.
“Son.”
“Easy, Dad, he’s hurt,” Grace said as her father drew Owen into a hug.
Owen didn’t seem to mind.
“Owen?”
The shaky voice came from the lodge, and Owen’s father released him.
“Mom.”
Scotty barely recognized Owen’s soft, almost-broken voice.
So that’s where he’d gotten his blond hair. Looking impossibly young to have six adult children, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, her blonde hair pushed back with a headband, Ingrid Christiansen came toward them already wiping her cheeks.
“You’re home,” she breathed, and then she had her arms around her son, holding on, weeping.
Owen tucked his head into her shoulder. His body shook, just a little, his lips moving quietly.
Scotty heard his words, even as she stepped back.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
She turned to stare at the blue of the lake, the sky, blinking against the sunlight.
Casper came alongside Scotty, slipped his arm over her shoulder. “Way to not get involved,” he whispered.
“I’m not crying. I’m just tired—”
“I meant the kiss.”
Oh.
Owen finally eased out of his mother’s embrace, and Scotty’s throat tightened when she saw his reddened eyes. He reached for her, took her hand.
Wait, uh—
“Mom, this is Scotty. She saved my life.”
Not entirely true, except, well—
Ingrid reached out and crushed her in an embrace. “Thank you,” she said in Scotty’s ear. “Thank you for bringing my boys home.”
Well, she hadn’t exactly—
“You’re a godsend to our family.”
Huh.
CASPER LEANED AGAINST THE WALL, watching the flurry of family activity. Clearly their prodigal son celebration needed more epic proportions. After all, no one had killed the fatted calf.
Although, with his mother whipping up a batch of her chocolate chip cookies, his father building a fire, Grace deciding to make Owen’s favorite meal for dinner, and Darek taking a break from chopping firewood to get caught up on Owen’s adventures, Casper certainly expected to be sent out to the barn with a butcher knife soon.
Did no one remember the trail of debris that Owen had left in his wake?
He wanted to raise his hand and point out the glaringly obvious but overlooked truth: Owen was the villain here.
Casper didn’t expect a cake with his name on it, but shouldn’t some nod be made to the fact that he’d tracked down said elusive brother? Another notch in his treasure hunter’s belt that should, fairly, be acknowledged.
Apparently the rest of the family had moved on to Owen’s harrowing heroics at sea.
“I can’t believe you just dove into the water—what were you thinking?” Grace said from the kitchen, more admiration than admonition in her voice. “What if you died?”
“I wasn’t thinking about dying, Gracie,” Owen said. He took Scotty’s hand.
Before Casper’s incredulous eyes, she folded her fingers between his. Had he dreamed their conversation on the airplane, the one where she determined not to get involved?
He crossed his arms, checking his watch. He’d called Raina thirty minutes ago . . .
He couldn’t wait to get this over with. The meeting between the child he loved and her biological father. He didn’t relish the idea of watching his kid brother share a reunion—as awkward as it might be—with the woman Casper loved.
Worse, Casper hadn’t given enough thought to the very uncomfortable reality that Raina and Owen had shared something Casper and Raina still waited for. And because of that, the child she’d had would never, not really, belong to him.
He shook himself. Get a grip, Casper. Once Layla dove into Casper’s familiar arms, there would be no denying the fact that he could easily, and rightly, fill Owen’s shoes as her father.
Casper shoved his hands in his pockets and walked into the kitchen. His mother stood at the mixer, scooping cookie dough onto a pan.
He stuck his finger in the bowl, pulled out fresh dough.
“Casper! Get your grimy fingers out of there!” His mother smacked his hand as he danced away with his loot.
He wasn’t sorry. No doubt she’d be handing Owen the beater in a second here.
Grace was leaning over the counter, listening as Scotty told them about the raft, how Owen had thrown her to safety. “I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch-black, the waves crashing into our raft, and I knew we were going to die.”
An arm curled around Casper’s waist, and he looked down to see his mother standing beside him. She held up the beater, grinned at him. “You are my hero.”
Aw, Mom. He couldn’t help his smile or the warmth that wove through him as she kissed his cheek.
“I might be too old for this,” he said, taking the beater.
“Probably not.” She winked, then turned and put the cookies in the oven, grabbed a towel to wipe her hands, and leaned against the sofa to listen, one hand on Owen’s shoulder.
Maybe Casper shouldn’t be so hard on everyone. Owen had turned into what seemed like an okay fella, the way Scotty told the tale.
Which, of course, was really what had Casper shaking, downright scared, deep in his core.
What if Raina agreed?
He banished the thought as he licked the beater and listened to Scotty’s rendition of the rescue.
“Right after I heard the chopper, I realized Owen had stopped breathing.”
Ingrid’s hand touched her chest.
“I was so afraid they wouldn’t find us that I stood up with a flare to signal them before I started CPR.”
“And Owen was dying?” Grace said.
Darek had decided somewhere in the middle of the story to head back outside and now came in with another load of wood. Dropped it by the fireplace. “What did I miss?”
“Scotty saving Owen’s life,” Grace said.
Darek smacked the woodchips from his gloves. “I thought he saved your life,” he said to Scotty.
“It was mutual,” Scotty answered, and Casper couldn’t help but notice the look exchanged between his parents.
Relief? Concern?
“I would have died if she hadn’t kept up the CPR,” Owen said.
“The Coast Guard team took over when they found us. He had a hemothorax, his lungs filling with blood. They were able to relieve the pressure and get his heart started.”
Ingrid pressed a hand over her mouth. “God was with you.”
Scotty glanced at her, saying nothing. But Owen nodded. “I suppose He wanted me to come home. . . .”
“We all did, Son,
” John said, nurturing the spark in the fireplace to life. A blaze lit the waxed pinecones, the tinder, and began to crackle.
Casper dropped the beater in the sink.
“So let me get this straight,” Darek said. “You hooked up with the Jude County Hotshots, then went to Seattle, worked on the docks?”
“That’s when I met a couple guys going to Alaska. I got a job on Red’s boat—that’s Scotty’s dad—and started fishing crab. This summer, I worked on the tuna boats; then Red hired me back on this fall.”
“So your dad has a fishing boat?” John asked Scotty.
“Had. He’s selling it. The truth is, it’s probably time for him to retire. He had a heart attack a couple years ago. I wanted to take it over, but I can’t afford the payments. Besides, I have a job—”
“Scotty’s a cop, Dad,” Owen said.
And that’s when, of course, Scotty’s gaze swiveled to Casper, landed on him.
A beat passed as understanding settled over him. “Not yet, Scotty,” he said quietly.
She wore a grim look. “Casper. They’ll come looking for you if you don’t go in.”
“Go in where?” Grace said.
John frowned. “This is about that phone call a few days ago, isn’t it? About the Deep Haven police wanting to question you about Monte Riggs? They found the body this summer, but it took a while to identify him. Kyle said you were a suspect—”
“I had nothing to do with—”
John held up his hand. “Of course not. We all know that, and I told Kyle that too. But you’d better get this ironed out, Son.”
Scotty got up. “I told the Deep Haven police I’d bring you straight there.”
“I’m not leaving until Raina gets here!”
Thankfully, he didn’t have to protest further because the door in the entryway opened.
Casper turned, his breath gusting out of him as the woman he loved walked in, her dark hair shorter than he remembered, her brown eyes finding his, expectant, twinkling. “Hey, you,” she said.
Raina. His Raina, and she could still sweep every thought from his head. He had no words, just a smile as he strode toward her.
On her hip she propped a baby girl with tiny dark pigtails. She wore a fluffy turquoise jacket, cute pink UGGs, and stared at the group with wide blue eyes.
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