by Marina Adair
“He’s an idiot,” he said and meant it. Avery was beyond sweet, beyond beautiful, beyond perfect.
Avery was an angel. Sure she was impulsive and a dreamer and drove him a little crazy—in the best kind of way. Yet some pencil pusher had walked away from her, made her believe it was her fault. That she was the one lacking. Ty could see it in her eyes.
“He isn’t an idiot,” she said, but her smile said she appreciated the support. “He just wasn’t as strong as I thought.”
And wasn’t that the heart of the problem, because Ty wasn’t who she thought he was. If so, she wouldn’t be looking at him as if he had single-handedly scaled Everest. He’d faced down that beast of a mountain and came out the victor, but only because it was less terrifying than facing his past.
“Enjoy your lunch, angel.” With a final wink, Ty made his way down the rocks.
An odd sensation filled his chest as he descended. The more distance he put between them, the more acute the sensation became, until all he wanted to do was climb back up and share lunch with Avery.
Funny how the last thing he had time for was lunch with Avery, yet that was all he could think about. She had this magical calming ability about her that soothed his restlessness. Made him feel grounded.
He’d reached the bottom when she called out to him. “Your dad’s probably down in the boathouse. He goes there when he’s having a bad day because he knows your mom won’t think to look there.”
Ty looked up, his hand shielding his face from the sun. And man, she was beautiful. Her blonde curls hung long and free today, cascading down her back while the afternoon light cast a golden glow around her face and body.
“How do you know it’s a bad day?” he asked.
Even from a distance he could see her face soften, watched her worry that lip, something he noticed she did when taking others’ emotions into consideration before she answered. “Your mom called you.”
Damn if that didn’t sting. Then again, the truth usually did.
CHAPTER 8
“Wasn’t sure you were coming. Was just finishing up with Brian here,” Dale said, and Ty nearly groaned aloud as his dad patted the mechanic on the back and not so subtly steered him toward the exit to the boathouse.
Brian still had on his jacket, and his confused expression said he hadn’t even opened his toolbox. Finishing up was not what Dale had in mind—he was brushing off.
Not the way Ty wanted this meeting to go. And definitely not how he wanted to broach the subject about hiring a new equipment manager. The only thing Dale hated more than change was being left out of the loop.
“I’m here now, and since Brian came all the way from Incline, why don’t we at least let him check out the boats in question. Hear what he has to say,” Ty suggested.
“It’s your meeting.” Dale put his hands behind his back tightly, as if they were shackled. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be over here, tinkering with my boat.”
Of course he wanted to tinker with the boat that Ty had called Brian about. They hadn’t seen each other, much less spoken, since the dinner, and his dad wanted to hide. Fine by Ty. So when Dale went to the back of the boat, Ty took Brian to the front.
“Sorry about that. A little miscommunication,” Ty said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Not a problem. My dad owns the largest machine shop in Reno. Which is why I went into boats.”
After a shared a nod of understanding and a silent moment of male bonding over difficult dads, Brian looked over at Dale, who was staring out at the dock. Ty couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was different.
He was wearing his usual uniform of pressed workpants and a fleece jacket, his hair the same slick style he’d worn since he was in the service, and his attitude was dialed to grumpy old man. Only he looked smaller, Ty thought. Maybe it was that his clothes hung a little looser than normal, or the way the landscape towered over him, but Ty really thought about what Avery had said, reflected on how frazzled his mom had sounded on the call.
He wasn’t sure what a “bad day” entailed, but if he wanted to feel comfortable leaving in a few weeks, he needed to find out. Lighten his dad’s load and delegate enough responsibility to qualified people so Dale could ease up a bit, and Irene wouldn’t worry so much.
“This is the boat that we need to look at first,” Ty said. “It has been chartered for three weeks from now. I need to know if it’s safe to take out, and if not, can we get it running by that time.”
“Understood.” Brian hopped on the cruiser, gaining sea legs in a matter of seconds. He made his way into the cockpit and gave the dash an external once-over. Making sure everything was in its right position, he started her up. The engine sputtered against the cold temperature, the exhaust crystallizing in the air as it struggled to find its rhythm.
Letting loose a low whistle that had the same ominous ring as Harris’s, he shut it down.
“That bad?” Ty asked.
“It’s not good, I can tell you that. When I talked to Harris, he said it hadn’t been serviced in a few months. It sounds like it was a lot longer than that, but I won’t know what’s going on until I get in there and look at it.”
“It was serviced last month,” Dale said from behind, the boat swaying with every step he took, giving away his impatience. And if that weren’t enough, he squeezed up behind Brian to look over his shoulder, doing his best impression of a backseat mechanic. “And I know it was serviced because I serviced it right before I took a group from Sacramento trout fishing.”
“Trout fishing?” Brian glanced over his shoulder. “You sure about that, Mr. Donovan?”
“Of course I’m sure. Took them around the lake to Crystal Bay and caught a thirty-one pounder. I got it in the log.” Dale pulled open the cabinet above the console, rummaged around, and then rummaged around some more. “Mark must have misplaced the damn thing. He was always moving things around.”
Ty and Brian exchanged a look.
“Dad, Mark left in November.” Around the same time trout fishing went out of season. So either Dale was taking folks fishing illegally, or he was lying. And Dale might be a hard-ass, but he wasn’t a liar, and he wouldn’t risk the lodge’s license over a trout, even if it was a thirty-one pounder.
“After everything I taught him, he left me high and dry right before the holidays.” Dale was back to digging through the cabin for the logbook. When he couldn’t locate it, he yanked open the lower drawer, and a bundle of maps fell to the ground. “Broke your mom’s heart. You know how she takes people in like family, so when they leave she gets all emotional . . . Dammit, I know it’s in here.”
“It doesn’t matter. Brian will be able to tell when he checks her out.”
Dale slammed the drawer. “The hell it doesn’t, because that log will prove it was serviced, and then Brian won’t have to waste time checking things that don’t need to be checked.”
“Dad,” Ty said, picking up the maps. “Mark left four months ago.”
“I know that,” Dale yelled, his temper spiking.
So much for hoping an audience would cause Dale to rein in his heavy-handed approach to change.
“Then the boat hasn’t been used since November?” Brian asked Dale, but he was looking at Ty for direction on how to handle the situation. Ty had not a clue. He’d never seen his dad like this. Stubborn, yeah. Pigheaded, absolutely.
Losing his shit in front of company? Never.
Dale was unshakable—steady as they came. But he was shaken now, his body visibly stumbling as he straightened to scratch his head.
“I guess I don’t know,” Dale said, and just saying the words seemed to take the wind right out of him. He stepped back a few feet and looked up at Ty as if he had the answers. “I know Nelson came by once or twice to help me work on the boats before we put them away for the winter. And Nelson is the best in town, been working on our boats since my dad ran the place. We can give him a call, see if he remembers the date.”
“That’
s okay, Mr. Donovan,” Brian said. “How about I take her out and see how she handles? I won’t charge you unless I find something wrong.”
“Sounds good,” Ty said as he hopped off the boat, wondering how many other logs were going to wind up missing. “Dad, you and I can hang back while Brian works his magic.”
“It’s your call,” Dale said as he climbed off the boat.
With a confident nod at Ty, man-speak for I’ll run her until I find every problem, Brian cleared the dock and pulled the boat out onto the lake. Ty watched the white wake slice through the flat surface and lop against the side of the dock, and he wondered what the hell had just happened.
His dad was lost in thought too, but his body language was hostile and agitated.
“Mom was looking for you,” Ty said, going for neutral territory. Whenever they fought, it was always his mom who managed to smooth things over.
Dale walked toward the cluster of upturned kayaks on the dock instead of answering, and he took a seat on the one closest to the water. Pulling a cigar from his pocket, he rolled it between his fingers, something Ty had seen him do a thousand times before. Even though he hadn’t lit it, a bitter cherry smell scented the air. It was almost as strong as the tension.
“She was worried,” Ty added, his comment met by more silence.
Fine. If Dale was content to sit and smoke his damn cigar and watch the water lap, who was Ty to force him into a conversation—a conversation he sure as hell didn’t want to have either. He thought about Avery, sitting up on that bluff and eating her pie, all by her lonesome. And wondered if he could still catch her. Only the first question that would come out of her pretty mouth would undoubtedly be about his dad.
Shit.
Ty took a seat. “Does she know you come out here to smoke?”
Dale ran the length of the cigar along his nose, smelling it. “Haven’t smoked one of these in over a decade, not since your mom said if the cigar didn’t kill me, then she would.” A small chuckle escaped, and it was such a foreign sound Ty glanced at his dad. He was actually smiling.
Correction: it was as close to smiling as one could get without showing actual teeth—or joy. But Ty took that as a sign to keep talking. “If you don’t smoke it, then why do you carry one around?”
Dale took one last sniff and tucked it back in his shirt pocket with a pat. “Same reason you carry around that rock. Habit I guess.”
Ty’s throat burned. Swallowing down years of remorse and disappointment hurt like hell. After the funeral, Dale had never once talked about Garrett with Ty. He remembered his dad standing here by the boathouse in his suit, looking out over the lake, his body so still Ty couldn’t tell if he was even breathing.
It had been raining, so sheets of water spilled off the dock, but his dad hadn’t bothered to change after the funeral. He’d left Irene to handle the guests and walked straight here, to stare out as a storm thrashed against the lake.
Ty had gone looking for Dale, and when he’d found him it was as if every step he’d taken to bring him closer tore them farther apart. By the time he had reached Dale’s side, the shame and guilt was so heavy Ty could barely speak.
He’d prepared his apology, knew exactly what he was going to say, and was ready to take the blame—for sneaking out, for ignoring the rules, and for Garrett’s death. All that he’d gotten out was “I’m sorry.”
Ty remembered looking at his dad, waiting for him to look back, to say something, anything to make it better. Reassurance that he was still loved, even though he didn’t deserve their love. But Dale never turned his head, never met Ty’s desperate gaze. The only reassurance he offered were two words, spoken simply and without emotion. “Me too.”
Ty had walked off the dock that day knowing that he wasn’t forgiven. Fifteen years later and not much had changed. Except that Dale was the one who needed help, and Ty wasn’t going to walk away.
“Brian seems like a good fit,” Ty began, hoping to warm his dad up to the idea of hiring him on. “Avery said you liked him when he was a guest.”
“Nice guy, good family man, but he’s a bit young.”
“I spoke to his boss this morning and the guy couldn’t say enough. He’s been working on a bigger fleet in Tahoe, mainly party barges, but I think he’s ready to step up to equipment manager.”
“He did some work for Jasper over at North Star, maintaining their lifts and snowmobiles. Jasper even claimed that for a young gun, he could sweet-talk anything with gears,” Dale said.
Surprised by his dad’s comment, Ty felt his shoulders relax. Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight his dad on this. Maybe Dale would make it easy on everyone and welcome Brian with open arms.
Dale picked a pebble up off the ground and tossed it into the lake. “Doesn’t make him a good manager.”
Then again, maybe not.
“How long do we have until Sequoia Elite Mountain Rescue comes back for the inspection? Two weeks?”
Dale shifted with unease. “About that.”
“Two weeks to get the boathouse in shape, the outdoor equipment catalogued and updated, the trails and staging areas finalized, and a new guide hired. And that doesn’t include the lodging side of things or handling the schedule until Brody comes back.” Not that Ty intended to hire him back—the guy had a lot of questionable sick days and took a very liberal approach to customer satisfaction—but that was a discussion for later. “We need someone overseeing the boathouse so that I can focus on the rest. I know Brian might not be your top pick, but the good news is he’s skilled, reliable, and available.”
“If it weren’t for SAREX coming up, I wouldn’t need anyone’s help,” Dale argued. “I’ve managed on my own this long. Had to since there was no one here to hold my hand.”
Since arguing back would get him nowhere fast and would only add to Dale’s stress, Ty swallowed down his frustration and took a deep breath. It didn’t help.
He tried it again, this time watching the ripples slowly beat the shoreline.
Nope, still pissed. Dale had a way of doing that, spinning Ty right off the planet with one well-placed comment.
“I know, Dad. You don’t need anyone. But you know what? You have people here willing to help. So unless you want to explain to Mom why SAREX is moving to Bear Valley, then step back and let us do our job. I promise when you pass the inspection I’ll be gone and you can go back to handling things. Okay?”
“Great, you’ll be gone and leave me with some young hipster running my boats.” With a dismissive shake of the head, Dale stood, taking a little longer to straighten than normal, and headed back toward the lodge.
Ty watched him storm off, his feet pounding the pavement with intent, and even though a bitter sadness pushed at his chest, Ty found himself laughing. A deep, guttural laugh that hurt as much as it brought release.
Not only had he received permission to hire Brian, he’d been chewed out by a man wearing fucking house slippers.
CHAPTER 9
Tonight was the night, Avery thought, making her way toward the bar, her orange cowgirl boots echoing off the cobblestone sidewalk on Lake Street.
The sun was setting on what had turned out to be a pretty spectacular week, and riding the high she decided she wanted to pay tribute to one more special person in her life. So when Liv told her that some of the ladies from Living for Love were at the Backwoods Brewhouse for happy hour, it was clearly a sign to be bold.
And right now, Caroline Peters needed a little bold in her life. She was undergoing bone marrow transplant surgery next week, and Avery wanted nothing more than to put a crown on her head. So she’d told her friends she’d meet them there.
Only when she opened the front doors of the brewhouse, she was surprised to find not a few members, as Liv had said, but the entire group. They were gathered at the back of the bar, wearing orange PRINCESS CAROLINE buttons with matching tiaras and boas.
“Perfect timing,” Liv said from the head of the table. She wore a pair of trendy hip-hugge
rs, a black pea coat, and red heels with a matching scarf and knit cap. If not for the fitted tee that said #LIKEAMOM, she’d look like a co-ed from the local campus. “Irene was finishing up passing out everyone’s buttons.”
“I’ve got yours right here.” A portly woman with bottle-red hair and a perpetual smile separated herself from the group to pin Avery with a button when she reached the table.
“Irene, they are amazing.” Avery greeted her with a big hug. Irene smelled like cookie dough and Christmas morning, and she hugged like she meant it. “When did you have time to make these?”
“I overheard Liv at the market talking about how you were going to ride Widow Maker tonight for Lola’s granddaughter, so I asked Mavis to make these,” Irene said, tapping the button with pride. Her grin was so big it was infectious. “Me and the girls thought we could pass them out around the hospital, so when Caroline shows up next week they’ll all be wearing her buttons.”
“This is . . .” Avery looked at the table full of women, spanning several sizes, backgrounds, and decades, and her voice cracked. At first glance they had nothing in common, yet it was their shared history with loss and the same desire to make a difference that drew them together. And together they were going to make a huge difference in this precious girl’s life. “Really, truly amazing.”
“A little ray of sunshine can cut through even the darkest of days,” Irene said, and Avery closed her eyes against the building emotion. Those were the exact words she had said to Avery when she’d shown up at her hospital room a few years back, unannounced, with a freshly baked pie and two forks.
“Caroline will love it,” Avery whispered.
“Almost as much as she’s going to love you being rodeo princess for the night,” Liv said, tipping an imaginary hat.
“I thought you could use these to decorate Caroline’s page when you’re done,” Mavis said, then handed her a sheet of beautiful hand-painted princess stickers.
Mavis Bates owned Pins and Needles, the local craft store. She was north of seventy and a porcupine of a woman, with bright red spiky hair and a soft underbelly, and she wasn’t big on hugs, but Avery pulled her in for one anyway. The old woman took it like a champ, her arms at her sides and lots of eye rolling until it was over, but she didn’t pull away. So Avery held on until she felt the tears well up. “Thank you.”