Ten Good Reasons (4 page)

“Is everyone excited?” Lia asked the crowd.

They responded with the enthusiasm of a football stadium,
especially the little kids. Normally, Drew was great at this part. She scrambled to remember how he did all this.

“We’re just going to get a few more things set up for you, then I’ll come back and we’ll get everyone boarded,” she said in her tour-guide voice. “Kids, start thinking now about how many whales there are in this part of the ocean, and I’ll tell you the answer when you get on board.”

Lia undid the chain and limped onto the stern.

Evan was in the front of the boat, frowning next to the new blue lattice nets.

“Where’s your crew?” he asked in his deep rasp.

A wave of embarrassment washed over Lia for some reason—as if she’d lost the crew herself. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

“No one?”

She shook her head.

“How many are there usually?”

“Four. Drew is captain and tour guide, Cora is the cook, Douglas is the deckhand, and Drew has a part-time steward named Stewey.”

“His steward is named Stewey?”

“Not his real name.”

Evan ran his hand down his face. “And no one’s coming?”

Lia bit her lip. “No.”

“Who’s giving the narrative?”

“I probably could.”

“Do you know anything about marine life?”

“. . . if you could write things down for me.”

He stared at her, hands hanging off his hips. He glanced around the deck, perhaps trying to imagine how they were going to pull this off, and looked as if he were going to jump overboard. But finally, slowly, he turned to inspect the life vests under the bench seats.

“What’s wrong with your ankle?” he growled from behind a bench door.

“I think . . . I just twisted it a bit.”

“Get some ice on that. Where are the fire extinguishers?”

Lia pointed, and Evan moved to the box, glancing inside. “Does Drew keep any firearms on board?” He was moving back toward the galley. He seemed to have gone into Coast Guard mode.

“Um . . . no, not that I know of.”

Evan gave a curt nod. “How many passengers will there be?”

“Forty-five.”

“We should get him another fire extinguisher, then. Does he have a first-aid kit in there?”

He waited for her to get the cabin door open, then followed her inside, his head barely clearing the ceiling, while she looked for the first-aid kit. He leaned against the countertops while she checked the top row. It took her a few tries, but she finally found the kit in a top cabinet. She pointed it out for Evan’s mental checklist, but he motioned for it with his fingers. Taking it from her, he rifled through, snagged four Advil packets, then withdrew a long white plastic thing.

“Emergency ice.” He held it out for her. “Put it on your ankle. And here.” He rummaged for another Advil packet and shoved it at her. He snapped the box closed and tossed it back into the cabinet. “Do you need help with the covers?” He inclined his head toward the bright blue ones Douglas had put across the bench seats.

“Yes, thank you.”

He held out his palm for the keys.

As Evan lurched away with the ignition key, Lia stared after him. There was so much she wanted to know—why he slept with a gun, why he and Drew were estranged, what was going on with all the simmering anger, why his Coast Guard career ended—but she wouldn’t ask. She didn’t really need to know. She couldn’t keep him after this. Drew wouldn’t like it. And he looked like too much of a wild card to keep around.

She glanced back out for Kyle Stevens, but still no sign. Quickly, she ducked back into the galley and set things up the way she remembered Drew kept them, pushing all thoughts of Evan out of her mind. They had five minutes before boarding.

She set out their new pamphlets in an acrylic holder; straightened the new poster Drew kept of various dolphins for kids to see the difference in their sizes; propped up a framed picture he kept of all the different whales; and found his new models of whale teeth, which she spread across the countertop. She tried to remember where Drew usually placed the little stuffed whale he called Willy and finally settled on one of the blue-cushioned benches out on the rear deck.

When she went out onto the deck, Coraline was waddling up the stern with two large shopping bags in her arms.

“Cora! I’m so relieved to see you!” Lia unburdened her of one of the bags.

“Sorry I’m late, sunshine. Didn’t think we’d be heading out this week.”

“I know. Douglas hasn’t shown.”

“I don’t think he’s coming, sweetie, but he called to make sure I’d be here for you. He said you found a captain?” Her eyes went up to the bridge. “Drew’s brother?” she whispered.

Lia ushered her into the cabin. “Yes. He seems a little cranky today, but I hear he’s good.” They plopped both bags onto the countertop.

“Maybe he needs coffee,” Cora said.

“That would be
great
.”

Cora patted Lia and waddled her way behind the galley counter. “I’ll get right on that.”

Lia blew out a relieved breath. At least one person showed. She checked her texts again and thought maybe she could get Stewey for at least the second tour. Once she sent another quick message, she headed up to the bridge. “Are you ready?”

“Yep.” Evan was at the helm, adjusting some dials and fiddling with the radio.

“Our cook showed up,” she offered hopefully.

He glowered but didn’t look her way. “Could use a deckhand more.”

Yes, I get it, Mr. Negative.
But she dismissed his scowl and looked him over. He looked really ragged. The hangover and anger and deadness in his eyes made him look like he might actually end up overboard before the end of the day. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m ready.” He looked out toward the horizon with a finality that indicated that’s as far as that conversation was going to go.

Lia turned and descended to the main deck. It wasn’t worth it to press him—to ask him how hung over he was, why he didn’t take her request seriously, or whether he’d drained those entire two bottles of scotch alone in one night. They would just get through this day, then she would reevaluate. Maybe
she would insist that Drew rethink the want-ad idea. For now, though, she had clients to impress.

“Hello, everyone!” she called in her most lighthearted voice.

*   *   *

Evan ran his hand down his face, cursed Glenlivet for at least the hundredth time, and turned his head slowly so his eyeballs would stop throbbing. He scanned the dock for Tommy. Clearly, Tommy was a no-show. Bastard.

Evan had called Tommy late last night, an hour after Lia had skipped away and a half hour after he knew he absolutely could not face her and her painful cheerfulness again. She was like some kind of Cinderella cartoon, with singing cartoon birds floating around her yellow hair. He didn’t want to deal with her, didn’t want to deal with Drew’s boat, didn’t want to see the name “
The Duke
,” and certainly didn’t want to deal with a bunch of strangers, kids, or even sunlight. He just wanted to be left alone.

But he said he’d help.

So his midnight call to Tommy Two-Time, after three seductive glasses of scotch, was, admittedly, a little desperate. Tommy might not be the most reliable guy in the world, and had spent more than a few nights in jail around these parts—which might have been where his nickname came from, although Evan wasn’t sure—but he could sail with his eyes closed and knew how to find whales. And Drew knew him as well as Evan did—they’d all sailed together around here when they were kids. So that was a plus. Evan was surprised to get ahold of him at all—he wasn’t even sure Tommy was still around—but, after a strange exchange of information that might have been tinged with too much scotch, Tommy had agreed to navigate Drew’s boat for a fee, which Evan agreed to pay, up front, through the entire week. He’d do that much for Drew.

But when the knock reverberated on his cabin door this morning, and Cinderella stood there looking wide-eyed and expectant, Evan knew Tommy was back to his unreliable ways.

Bastard.

So now he had a full day of stinging sunlight, throbbing brain, nausea, Cinderella, a boatload of kids, and a passenger who looked way too much like Renece to deal with.

He rubbed his face again and wondered if he could get through this day. And if he could stop his eyeballs from throbbing. But—as he’d always told his crew—anyone can do anything for a day.

“. . . type of killer whale?” he heard from behind him.

He opened one eye at a time, peering back over his shoulder. There were no sunglasses on earth dark enough for him right now. “Wha?” he managed to croak out. His tongue felt like it had fur on it.

“Is there only one type of killer whale?”

His questioner was about four feet tall, the stripes on his shirt providing an assault to all of Evan’s senses. Once Evan was able to open both eyes, and come to some semblance of focus, he realized it was
the kid
. The one with the Renece look-alike.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t handle this right now. He could barely keep his head screwed on.

“Are there lots of killer whales or only the black-and-white ones?”

Evan pressed on his temple so his brains wouldn’t spill out and glanced behind him in hopes that someone would save him. “Actually, the real name for that whale is an orca, and it’s not really a whale but a dolphin—the biggest of the dolphin family.”

“But does it kill people? Will it kill us if we see him today?” The boy plucked at his shirt.

“No, no, kid.” A sharp pain right behind his eyelids had Evan gripping at the bridge of his nose. “No, he’s—”

“
Conner!
What are you doing up here?”

The soft voice had Evan’s head snapping up, and the vision had him on his feet in half a second. But the movements were all too fast, and he swayed embarrassingly and gripped the wheel.
Renece. Damn, she looked so much like her
. . . .

“Hi, I’m sorry. I’m Avery.” The woman thrust out her hand.

Evan didn’t know what she was apologizing for, but he cut himself some slack for slow brainwaves this morning and gave her hand a swift shake before pulling back into himself. She was beautiful, the way Renece had been, but the fact that she
reminded him of a ghost left him feeling more repelled than attracted. He took another step away and thought he might hurl.

“Captain
Betancourt
.” He heard another woman’s voice from behind him.

He couldn’t take this. His head honestly felt like it was going to come off and roll down the stern. He forced his eyeballs to shift in the other direction. It was Cinderella.

“I see you’ve met our captain,” she said merrily to the Renece look-alike.

Cinderella had two steaming Styrofoam cups in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm, and unloaded all of them onto the captain’s table before looping her arm around Renece Look-alike and steering her away. “He’s going to get us off to sea in just a couple of minutes, so I’m going to ask everyone to take a seat.” Cinderella threw a megawatt smile to the little boy. “I have a special place for
you
to sit. Right next to Willy the Whale! Would you like that?” The boy bobbed his head maniacally, and Cinderella guided them both back down to the main deck.

Evan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and eyed the bottled water. Without another thought, he yanked off the cap and took four long gulps before tearing into the Advil packets.

“Yes, that was for you,” Cinderella said, returning to the bridge and eyeing the nearly empty bottle. “Want another?”

“That’d be great.”

“The coffee’s for you, too.” She scooted the Styrofoam cup closer. “Cora makes amazing coffee—you might rethink that deckhand remark.”

As irritating as she’d been with her excruciating cheerfulness earlier, she now seemed like some sort of angel. One who could flit around with bottled water and strong brew.

“Thanks,” he said, keeping his voice low enough to protect him from reverberation in his head.

She reached for her own cup. “As soon as we get out to sea, can you jot some notes about what we’re seeing?”

He squinted in her direction. Damn. He’d forgotten about that part. This day was just getting better and better. “Can we keep it to a minimum?”

“What, the narration?”

“The noise. The narration. The microphone. The kids. And our”—he swung his finger back and forth between them—“interaction.” He slid another glance at her. He was being an ass. But he needed to keep her glib conversation and perky attitude from causing his head to roll into the sea.

“Sure,” she said, her voice faraway. Finally, she turned and left.

He sighed into the empty space she created. He was a jerk. He shouldn’t have accepted this request. He wasn’t fit to interact with normal human beings anymore, even if it meant possible forgiveness from his brother.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and concentrated on the cat’s controls.

He would just get through this one day. Then he’d call Tommy Two-Time again and double his price.

If he survived today, that was.

CHAPTER

L
ia stood at the boat entrance and welcomed the last of the passengers aboard with her friendliest smile. They milled about in clusters in their blue jeans and tennis shoes, some sitting on the bright blue cushions along the back of the cat, some jogging toward the front where the blue lattice nets were, their cameras bobbing against their sweatshirt-clad stomachs. A family of seagulls squawked overhead and landed at the highest point on the catamaran, chests puffed, as if waiting for their ride, too. The sun broke through the gray sky and cast spotlight rays along the deck.

Lia took the last ticket and craned her neck toward the wood-shingled shops at the Sandy Cove marina to see if she could see any limos that might belong to Kyle Stevens. A limo would certainly stand out in Sandy Cove.

But he hadn’t shown. They were two minutes late now, and she didn’t know if she should wait. When a young multimillionaire booked a pre-charter check for himself and two guests, were you supposed to give him special treatment? She bit her lip.
When he was the Vampiress’s favorite client, and the son of her dream client, you did
. . . .

She let the passengers find their places while she fumbled
with the main-deck microphone. There was another one up in the bridge, but she didn’t want to use the one next to Mr. Grumpy. While she waited, she rummaged through the drawers in the galley until she found what she was looking for: one of Drew’s whale books. As she flipped through, she scraped her mind to remember anything Drew had told her about whales, or how he usually started his presentation. She’d been on this ride with him several times, sometimes on business so she could give him marketing tips, and other times on private outings with their friends because Drew loved it so much.

Baleen
. The word jumped off the page. He always explained that to them, and how whales were divided into baleen and something else. . . .

“Welcome, everyone!” she began into the microphone. “We hope you enjoy your visit today on the
Duke
. My name is Lia, and I’ll be narrating for you today. We have Captain Evan Betancourt navigating our ship, and Coraline Jones offering coffee, soft drinks, popcorn, and other sundries in the galley. . . .”

“And chocolate-walnut cookies!” Coraline yelled.

Lia had to bend down from her perch outside the galley door to peer inside toward Cora’s voice. “What?”

“I brought homemade chocolate-walnut cookies!” Cora said in a stage whisper. “One free per passenger.”

“. . . And homemade chocolate-walnut cookies,” Lia said into the microphone. “One free per passenger.”

Giddy claps erupted from the first-graders.

The motor gave a funny rev right then, like an impatient boyfriend gunning his V-8 in the parking lot, and Lia wondered if that was Evan’s weird way of communicating. She glanced up the steps. She didn’t want to extend their interaction any more than she had to—he’d made his request pretty clear—but she clicked off the microphone and jogged up to see if everything was okay. On the second step, though, she winced and grabbed her ankle. This thing was going to swell like crazy once she got off it. She remembered the Advil packet and emergency ice sitting on the galley counter and gave two small points to Captain Betancourt.

Up at the helm, Evan had found a pair of Drew’s binoculars and was adjusting them with another scowl.

“Are you signaling me?” she asked, trying to throw enough indignation into her voice to let him know she didn’t like to be summoned with engine revs.

“We ready?” he drawled.

The view from up here was pretty spectacular—she never came up here with Drew. The entire north end of the marina was visible, a thicket of white masts sticking up like matchsticks against the jewel-tone blue of the ocean. On the other side, palm trees and Cape Cod–styled buildings surrounded a brick-lined patio to make up the small Sandy Cove marina: two gift shops, a tackle shop, a high-end clothing shop, a sandwich-and-coffee shop, and the ticket office. Lia took a split second to take it all in, along with a deep breath of salt air. Navigating from up this high must be pretty life affirming.

“We’re missing a few people,” she said, taking one last sweep of the shingled shops and hyndrangea-lined parking lot. “But it
is
past ten.”

“Do you know how to cast off the lines?”

“Oh . . . not exactly.” She glanced down at the cleats on the dock. “I can probably manage if you show me. How many are there?” From up here, she could see they crossed one another like a game of cat’s cradle.

“Four.” Evan ducked under the canopy and lumbered down the stairs and through the crowd of tourists.

So much for keeping him hidden from the guests.

Lia followed, leaping off the boat where he did, watching him unravel the first line from the cleat. His movements were natural and forceful, despite the hangover—like some kind of machine on autopilot. “Get that one down there.”

They made their way down the dock, untying all four lines, tossing them onto the boat, then Evan stepped lithely on board, looping the lines around his arm and stowing them with quick, deft movements. Lia tried to mimic him, peering down the deck to see how he wrapped them around his muscled arms, but he finally strode in her direction and took the rope from her. “Go talk,” he murmured.

She went back to the microphone and flipped through Drew’s book to the section on baleen. “So I asked all of you if you knew how many types of whales were in this part of the ocean today. Does anyone know the answer?”

The little kids from the field trip all shot their hands into the air, waving wildly, and Lia fielded answers, watching out of the corner of her eye for Kyle Stevens. Her gaze kept sliding, though, toward Evan, as he wrapped rope through his biceps and avoided eye contact with any of the passengers. And then her line of vision incorporated Avery, who had Evan securely in her sights. Avery’s lips parted as she watched Evan move down the port side. Fear didn’t seem to be part of her perusal.

Lia forced her attention back to the book.

“Whales are divided between baleen,” she announced, scanning the copy, “which means with sievelike teeth made of keratin, like our fingernails; and toothed whales, which are whales with real teeth.”

Evan glanced back at her, and she wondered for a second if she were getting the info right. His expression—especially behind the sunglasses—was inscrutable.

“We’ll be seeing mostly gray whales today, and possibly some blue, which are both baleen.”

At one point, Cora came out and finished stowing the last line. Evan gave Cora a deep nod of thanks in about the friendliest gesture Lia had seen from him so far, then he trudged up to the helm. Avery twisted in her seat to watch him from behind.

Huh.

So Avery might be attracted to Evan. This was good, right? At least Lia wouldn’t have to worry about a blog write-up going out to thousands of readers a month discussing the scary captain aboard the
Duke
.

Lia took another look at Evan. Maybe the pirate thing was some women’s cup of tea.

As the boat began motoring away, making a slow, wide turn to point them out of the harbor, Lia took a deep breath and thumbed a few pages forward.

But then she glanced up and spotted Kyle Stevens jogging his way down the dock.

*   *   *

“Captain Betancourt! Captain Betancourt!”

Evan glanced over his shoulder to see Cinderella hobbling up the bridge stairs, but he riveted his concentration back to the turn. He had to give his little brother a lot of credit if he
did this every day. Sandy Cove’s harbor was tricky, seemingly designed more for folks who wanted to hide behind its cliffs than for those looking for an open welcome mat.

“Captain Betancourt!”

He rolled his eyes. He wished she’d stop calling him that.

“Whaddaya need?” He eyed the distance to the jetty and calculated how wide he could make the turn. The sun glared off the water.

“We have to go back!” she said when she got to the top of the steps.

He frowned. This chick was crazy. “We’re halfway to the jetty,” he said calmly.

“There’s a passenger we left on the dock.” She stopped short and took a deep breath, her hands fluttering over the controls as if looking for a “back” button. “We have to get him. He’s here with four others.”

“Seems he’s here late.”

“But he’s important. We have to go back.”

“He should be here on time.”

The glance she threw made it clear he was no one to talk. But he chose to ignore that and forced the throttle instead.

“I’m serious!” She gripped his wrist.

When he glared at her hand, she yanked it away. She needed to stop doing that. She was clearly one of those touchy-feely types. But he wasn’t. And she needed to knock it off.

She stepped back, as if to give him some personal space, but she definitely wasn’t backing down.

“We
have
to go back.” Her fingers spread as she stared at the console. He could tell she was dying to control this—the vessel, the situation, him,
something
.

“We’d have to make the turn all the way back in, ready the fenders, loop the lines,” he said. “We’ll be twenty minutes off schedule.”

“It’s worth it.”

“To you?”

“To Drew.”

He ground his back teeth. Of course. She knew how to get to him already.

“And to me,” she added reluctantly, although she said it as if she knew it wouldn’t make any difference to him.

Her gaze drifted over his shoulder at this mysterious Big Deal Passenger, waving from the dock.

He threw the throttle again and maneuvered the tricky turn back. As he calculated the distance, he wondered again how Drew knew this chick. She had crazy written all over her. Her cheerleader exuberance wasn’t something Drew would normally be attracted to, so dating was off the table. Plus she’d said as much. And Evan had been damned sure to check. The last thing he needed was to get tangled in one of Drew’s relationships again.

“You’ll need to loop the stern line,” he grumbled. “Loosely. I’ll take the bow.”

She headed down while he concentrated on pulling back in. He did a stellar job, if he did say so himself. Especially with a hangover. The glasses helped keep the brightness down, from Drew’s squeaky-clean white deck, to the winter sun glaring off the water, to Cinderella’s tourism smile.

When the boat was snuggled tight, he headed down the steps and checked to see who garnered this type of attention. Must be some rich fat cat. Probably in a suit and tie and shiny shoes.

But all he saw was a youngish-looking dude in cargos and a T-shirt, with an Ivy League haircut and a watch that probably cost more than Evan’s sailboat. Cinderella was fawning all over him, so this must be the guy. Two beefy men stood behind him in dark shades—they could only be bodyguards. As Evan watched Cinderella dropping her head to the side in the universal sign for
I find you attractive
, he wondered what this asshole’s story was.

“I’ll get them,” he mumbled, stepping in front of her. They could do this without retying the whole vessel. He secured the back end, enough to let them step aboard, and reached out to help them by the elbow. The bodyguards, as expected, didn’t want to be helped. Mr. Big Deal Passenger allowed Evan to help him, though, which made Evan lose his last four millidrops of respect.

“Mr. Stevens!” Cinderella beamed. “It’s so great to have you aboard.”

“Aw, call me Kyle, Lia.” He cuffed her shoulder.

Evan rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for stopping for me,” he added.

“No problem,” Cinderella said. “Drew’s not here today, but this is his
brother
, Evan Betancourt!” She said it like being brothers was the most stunning coincidence in the universe.

Stevens turned, as if surprised that Evan was still there, and looked him up and down. “Nice to meet you.” He shoved his hand forward, and Evan finally shook it.

“So where’s Drew?”

Cinderella jumped in: “He was in a terrible motorcycle accident.”

That caught Stevens’s attention. “Motorcycle?” He said it with the kind of wonder that Evan associated with rich, entitled young men who were entitled to everything but risk.

“Yes, but he’s on the mend.”

“And you’re running the business in his absence?” Stevens gave Cinderella a quick once-over that seemed to hold some dubiousness. For some reason, her breasts and hips seemed to be an important part of his perusal.

Evan stepped into Stevens’s line of vision. “We’ve got to get going,” he said, taking the line from her. This Stevens character was rubbing him the wrong way.

“I am.” Cinderella moved around Evan. “We don’t expect any kind of bump in the road for the business. Come aboard.” She motioned with her hand, the model of efficiency. “Be sure to check out the underwater whale-viewing pods on the lower level. Your charter guests will love them.”

Stevens moved to one of the back benches with his bodyguards, who looked huge and uncomfortable in dark jackets. They didn’t exactly blend in. Cinderella got back on the microphone.

“We see several types of whales year-round, but at this time of year we see an abundance of gray whales . . .” she continued.

Evan jogged back up to the bridge and repeated his exit, watching the turn again and listening to Cinderella discuss everything she knew about gray whales. She was doing a pretty good job, he had to admit. She had a nice voice—not overly exuberant like her personality, but strangely calm once she was on the microphone.

“. . . The gray whales migrate from Alaska to Baja,
Mexico, between December and early March, where they stay in the warmer waters, have their calves, then migrate back up from February to April or May, right along this coast. . . .”

They were a half hour late, but he could finally see some open sea. Stevens and his boys had moved well away from Cinderella, which felt like a strange relief. He didn’t know why that Stevens character was so important, and he certainly didn’t want to have a full conversation about it with Cinderella, but something wasn’t right about that guy.