Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Kimberly Lang’s charming Magnolia Beach series.
Available from Berkley Sensation in December 2016.
Phone calls after midnight never brought good news.
Shelby Tanner knew that, which made being woken out of a sound sleep—and a really good dream—even worse. She groped for her phone on the nightstand, but the phone was dark and silent, confusing her. She stared at it blankly until she heard another ring, then rolled out of bed cursing, and ran downstairs to the office to answer the landline.
“Marina. This is Shelby.” And this better be important. She blinked and rubbed her eyes to clear them as she turned on the big desk lamp and peered at the caller ID. It wasn’t a local number, and she didn’t recognize the area code.
“This is Declan Hyde and I need some assistance. I’m . . . um . . . Well, I seem to be . . . floating. Out on the water.”
This guy sounded a little too old to be making crank calls, but not everyone outgrew their adolescence. “It’s the middle of the night, and I’m really not in the mood for pranks, so—”
“This is not a prank,” the man said quickly. “I’m supposed to be at the dock, yet I’m . . . not.” There was a frustrated sigh. “I’ve been staying on a boat in slip seven. I woke up a few minutes ago, and I’m not in slip seven anymore.”
That got her attention. Balancing the phone on her shoulder, she raised the blinds on the window and looked out, scanning the boats below. Sure enough, slip seven was empty. The Lady Jane hadn’t moved from that spot in more than six weeks, so the absence was glaring. She didn’t see the Lady Jane anywhere. “Well, where are you?”
“As I said, I seem to be adrift.”
Okay, now I’m awake. While the man seemed to be frustrated, he did not sound afraid or freaked-out, so that was good. Whatever had happened to the Lady Jane—and she’d riddle that out later—it couldn’t have been more than a few hours ago, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t be more than a couple of miles offshore, max. That was good news; it would make the search easier.
But she could tell by the way he talked that he wasn’t a very experienced sailor—which wasn’t all that uncommon in Magnolia Beach. They had a lot of tourists with an overestimation of their skills coming to town, and a dark night and unfamiliar waters could easily lead to disaster, even close to land. Adrenaline rushed through her. “Don’t hang up. I’m going to get the Coast Guard on the radio—”
“I was assuming you could just come get me.”
“What?”
“It shouldn’t take you long,” he said in the most ridiculously reasonable-sounding voice she’d ever heard. “I mean, I can almost make you out in the window, so I’ve not made it all that far out yet.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “You can see me?”
“Well, not clearly, no. But I assume that’s you. The light in that building did come on about the time you answered.”
Last time, she’d only looked to see that the Lady Jane was actually out of her slip. This time, Shelby looked out toward the bay. A cloudy sky shrouded everything beyond the marina’s entrance in darkness, but, sure enough, there were lights bobbing just beyond. It would be unbelievable without confirmation. “Can you flash your lights for me?”
“Um, sure. Hang on.”
Suspicions growing and her irritation barely held in check, she drummed her fingers against the windowsill as she waited. A moment later, those lights in the not-very-far-at-all distance flashed off and back on again.
“Do you see me now?”
“Oh, I see you.” That probably sounded snarky, but jeez. Thank goodness she hadn’t called the Coast Guard. She’d have never heard the end of it. Reminding herself that Mr. Declan Hyde was a paying customer and shouting at him would not be good for business, she took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Sir, is there something wrong with your boat?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“Then why don’t you just come back?” she said carefully.
He laughed. He actually laughed, causing Shelby’s hand to curl into a fist. “That would make sense, except I don’t know how. I’ve never driven a boat before. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
The number of wrong things in those few sentences made Shelby’s head hurt. He’d been living on that boat for six freakin’ weeks. That boat cost more than some people’s houses.
And he didn’t know how to operate it.
Who the hell lives on a boat when they don’t know how—
She took a deep breath to calm herself. Even if she walked him through it, step by step, he’d probably ram the thing into something on his way back. Maneuvering space was limited in the marina, and there was no telling how much damage he could do—both to the Lady Jane and to every other boat in the place. And, not to mention, it would be illegal if he didn’t have a boating license. It would just be quicker, safer, and involve fewer insurance claims to just go get him.
Oh Lord, deliver me from idiots.
“Miss? Are you still there?”
She sighed. “Yes. I’m on my way. Just sit tight.” And try not to fall overboard.
Grumbling, Shelby headed back up the stairs to her tiny apartment. It had just been a storage room until she’d converted it three years ago—shortly after she’d pretty much taken over the day-to-day running of the marina. Her parents hadn’t liked the idea at all, claiming worry about her safety being there alone at night, but Magnolia Beach wasn’t exactly a hot spot for crime—or for anything else, for that matter.
She’d always wanted to live near the water, but since Magnolia Beach was a tourist location, all the waterfront property was either too expensive for her to purchase or was designed for tourists to rent. Living here at the marina was both convenient and cheap, allowing her to save money for later. The apartment was small but cozy and, thanks to her cousin Ryan’s handyman skills, comfortable and perfect for her needs—which weren’t all that many.
A glance at the clock told her it was close to three, and that only made her grumpier as she pulled on shorts and a sweatshirt and slipped into her shoes. She took a minute to pull her hair back and braid the ponytail to keep it out of her face—Mr. Hyde wasn’t going to drift out to sea or anything in that extra minute; hell, he was still in the No Wake area, for goodness’ sake—then grabbed the keys to the dinghy and stomped down the stairs. There was even an eighty percent chance that he’d end up on the sandbar in another hour or so, where he could safely wait until a reasonable hour to be fetched back. But she couldn’t ignore that twenty percent chance he wouldn’t.
Cupid woofed at her questioningly as she got off her doggie bed and followed Shelby outside. Shelby patted the shaggy head. “I know. It’s crazy to be up at this hour.”
Crazy or not, it was a beautiful night. The clouds blocked the stars, but they also kept the temperature from dropping too much, making the October air a little warmer than usual. Everything was quiet—only the wind making the rigging on the sailboats sing—and mostly still except for the gentle movement of the boats. And while she would much rather be asleep in her bed, at least going out wasn’t going to suck.
Cupid sat on the wooden dock, a little miffed she wasn’t going as well, as Shelby untied the dinghy and started the small motor, which sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet.
This wasn’t the first time she’d had to go help a tourist out of a jam. It just came with the territory, and normally she didn’t mind. People came to Magnolia Beach to enjoy the water that surrounded the town on three sides—Mobile Bay to the east, Heron Bay to the south, and Heron Bayou to the west. It was a quiet, almost-stereotypical small town and very family friendly, perfect for water-centric vacations.
She was quite used to people with more enthusiasm for boats than with skill at operating them, but never in her life had she heard of someone living on a boat when he had no idea what to do with it. Aside from it being just wrong, it didn’t seem safe, either. It simply hadn’t occurred
to her to check that the inhabitant of the boat possessed that minimum level of skill.
The Lady Jane belonged to Mr. Farley’s cousin’s nephew—or something like that—and was normally docked in a marina over near Laguna Beach. But that marina didn’t allow live-aboards, so Mr. Farley had asked if the Lady Jane could dock at their marina for a few months. Had it been summer, Shelby would have had to turn down the request, but she’d figured it would be okay this time of year. It wasn’t something they allowed often, as live-aboards often turned out to be sketchy and dubious situations, but Mr. Farley had given his personal guarantee that Declan Hyde wouldn’t be a problem.
And until right now, he hadn’t been.
A college-aged kid had brought the Lady Jane in and gotten everything settled, and at some point shortly after, the occupant had arrived and the kid had left. Shelby had been in Hattiesburg at her cousins’ for a couple of weeks, so her father had been the one to get Declan settled in. By the time she’d gotten back from Mississippi, their new resident had established himself as a bit of a ghost—to the extent that Shelby often forgot he was even there. She’d see lights on at night, and his car would disappear from the parking lot on occasion, but aside from her servicing the water and waste tanks, he might as well not have been living aboard, for all the extra effort it had caused her.
It was odd, sure, but not odd enough to even ping on her radar as concern. This was Magnolia Beach; they had plenty of odd ducks in town. And most of them were far more interesting than some Yankee—the SUV in the parking lot had Illinois tags—who was probably just suffering through a Jimmy Buffett–inspired midlife crisis.
The Lady Jane was starting to take shape in the dark in front of her. It really was a damn nice boat, the kind a lot of people only dreamed of owning one day. Built for serviceable, but not overly luxurious, comfort, it was easily big enough for one person to live aboard reasonably well for an extended but limited time, as it was really designed more for weekend excursions and deep-sea fishing.
The hermit in question came into view, standing near the rail of the cockpit. In the dark and from this distance, it was hard to tell much beyond that he was tall and broad-shouldered. She cut the engine on the dinghy and let it glide the last little bit, sliding easily alongside the bigger boat until she could catch hold.
It only took a second to secure her dinghy to the Lady Jane. Then she was climbing aboard, ignoring the hand extended to help her.
“I’m very glad to see you.”
Her earlier assumption was proven wrong immediately. Declan Hyde was not some middle-aged former salesmen in an existential crisis. In fact, he probably wasn’t much older than she was, maybe in his early thirties or so. It was hard to tell due to the darkness and the wild overgrown “I’ve been living on the sea” hair-and-beard combo he sported. He was wearing jeans with the knees ripped out and a T-shirt that once upon a time might have been blue.
“I’m Declan Hyde,” he continued, offering his hand again. “Welcome aboard.”
“Shelby Tanner,” she replied, returning the handshake briefly while biting back the snarky but deserved comment she knew she’d probably regret later. He seemed about to say something else, but she knew she would not be able to manage polite chitchat right now. Not under these circumstances. “The keys?”
Declan nodded and opened the door to the cabin, giving her a glimpse inside. Papers and books were scattered around, and a laptop graced the center of the mess. A writer, then. She’d seen that before, too.
Please don’t tell me about your book.
She accepted the keys and tried to start the boat, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. “Great,” she muttered, praying for patience.
“It looks like I would have had to call you regardless.” The voice came from right behind her, causing her to jump. He’d followed her up and was now eyeing the controls with a shake of his head. “I certainly don’t know anything about engine repair.”
Of course you don’t. He seemed to find this slightly amusing, but Shelby was unable to share in the humor. “Well, it’s a good thing I do. There’s a small toolbox under the seat in the dinghy. Would you mind?”
Declan went to get her tools as she assessed the situation. There was a flashlight stowed inside the engine door, and she held it between her cheek and her shoulder as she checked the most obvious culprits, hoping it would be something easy.
“Maybe we should call the Coast Guard,” Declan said, returning with her tools and setting them beside her.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” She’d have to be on fire or sinking before she’d call the Guard. She knew every one of those guys, and she’d never be able to hold her head up again if they had to come get her for anything less than a bona fide maritime disaster. And probably not even then.
“Should we drop the anchor or something? We’re still drifting.”
The fact he hadn’t tried already meant he probably didn’t know how. “I promise we won’t drift far. We’re fine.”
He squatted beside her. “Can I hold the flashlight for you?” he offered. She must have looked at him funny because he added, “At least that way I won’t seem completely useless in this time of need.”
Declan’s self-deprecating smile told her he saw the ridiculousness in the situation and his part in it, and that finally helped tamp down her irritation. “It’s hardly desperate times.” But she put the flashlight in his hand anyway and adjusted him so it would point where she needed it.
As if he knew she was not in the mood, Declan didn’t try to make conversation while she worked. Thankfully, the problem was easy to find—and would be easy to fix. “It’s just a bad wire. Won’t take me but a minute,” she told him.
Declan was quite large and the space was not, so his head was right over her shoulder. Contrary to what his hair and clothing said, he wasn’t doing the unwashed-hippie thing. He actually smelled nice, kind of woodsy. “You’re very capable,” he said after a minute or two of watching her.
She snorted. “We are a full-service marina.”
“I think this situation is a little above and beyond the usual offered services.”
He sounded sincere, which took the edge off. A little. “It’s a first—that’s for sure.”
“I’m sorry I had to wake you up. I honestly have no idea how the boat got loose. I worked until after midnight, then went to bed. I don’t know what woke me up, but I realized it was a lot darker than normal and there was a lot more movement. I was rather surprised to find myself out here.”
It would be disconcerting, to say the least. “Well, I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“You know how this happened?” He sounded surprised.
“I have my theories, but I also have video surveillance of the entire marina. It won’t be hard to find out.” She reached for the electrical tape, thumping Declan in the chest with her elbow in the process. He grunted. “Sorry. I’m not used to working with an assistant.”
It wasn’t the cleanest of repairs, but it wasn’t terribly bad, either, for three something in the morning. Declan moved aside as she stood and tried again to start the boat. This time, the engine came to life easily.
“I’m impressed.”
He was obviously easily impressed, then, but since it wasn’t often that she was able to impress people, she took the ego boost happily. “It’s holding together with tape and prayer, but it’ll get us back to shore. I’ll fix it properly tomorrow—I mean, later today.”
“There’s no real rush. I don’t exactly have plans to take her out or anything.”
The smile on his face told her he thought he was being funny, but she didn’t see the humor this time, either. She stowed the flashlight and closed the engine door. “It’s a safety hazard, though. Any particular time you’d prefer I come?”
He finally took the hint and quit trying to be cute about it. “At your convenience.”
That would be a nice change. Yawning widely, she turned the boat toward shore.
• • •
Shelby Tanner was not happy with him—that much was very clear. Declan couldn’t exactly blame her, though. No one liked being dragged out of bed in the small hours of the morning, but what else could he have done? Thomas had loaned him the Lady Jane with a laugh simply because he didn’t know anything about boats. He’d have plenty of time to study and catch up on all those books he said he wanted to read and all the movies he’d missed—and he’d get to catch up on all the sleep he’d lost in the last few years, too.
And, Thomas had added, he needed to start finding his sea legs. Miami was a boat culture. A few months in Magnolia Beach would be an easy introduction.
Shelby, though, obviously knew a hell of a lot about boats. It was to be expected, of course, since she worked at the marina, but there was an ease and confidence to her movements that told him this was second nature to her. Even the matter-of-fact way she’d fixed the problem with the engine spoke to a level of competence unusual in someone so young.
And she was young—maybe early or mid-twenties—which seemed very young to be in charge, yet she was the one answering the marina’s phone in the middle of the night. She must have had some level of responsibility. Interesting.
The same ease with which she handled the boat was almost a rebuke to his lack of skills. It wasn’t a slap to his ego or anything—he was well aware of his skill set and had no need to get into a pissing contest over it—and he could see her side of things. In a broader sense, yes, someone living on a boat should at least know how to start the engine.
And he’d had every intention of learning.
He just hadn’t found the time, yet. The movies and books and sleep—and the amazing antebellum architecture in this part of the country—had proven to be far more attractive.
She still would have had to come and get him—the engine had been broken, after all—but the event wouldn’t have had that farcical overlay, adding insult to injury.
It wasn’t going to be a long trip back to shore since he hadn’t drifted that far, but he wasn’t sure what he should do during that time. He had nothing to offer in the way of helping—not that Shelby seemed to need it—but it seemed rude to go below into the cabin as if Shelby were some kind of chauffeur. At the same time, it seemed rude to stand there and hover like he needed to supervise her.
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