She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but definitely something grander. All she could see was a marina with a T-shaped wharf holding a variety of boats in their slips. Some were fishing boats, others were leisure craft.
On shore, there were maybe a dozen houses peeking from the forest on the hills above the collection of commercial buildings. A pub on the left was dwarfed by a huge industrial building behind it that wore a sign declaring it Raven’s Cove Marina and Shipyard. Between that and the two lodges on the right stood what looked like the shortest strip mall in history. It held maybe three shops and had what might be a couple of apartments above it.
As the taxi closed in on the wharf, the land rose too high to reveal anything except the pub’s patio, which jutted out to overlook the cove.
“Is this…it?” she asked the water taxi captain as she disembarked. Perhaps she’d been dropped off on the outskirts again. Please don’t make me walk another two miles.
“Sure is,” he said with a nod, as though he heard that a lot.
As she stepped onto the wharf, she hung back, letting the handful of fellow passengers go ahead while she shrugged into her backpack and brushed back her hoodie, trying to get her bearings.
Her ears were immediately accosted by the chill of her new pixie haircut. Yes, she had even left behind the chemical blonde she had saturated into her dark brown curls all these years. She wore no make-up, jewelry, or even a bra.
Slowly, she started toward the ramp, passing a man who was casting off a speedboat of some kind. She didn’t know boats. This one looked like a convertible sportscar with a low, angled, wrap-around windshield and white seats in the bow.
The man straightened as she came even with him and she halted, stepping out of his way so they wouldn’t risk knocking each other into the water.
Oh shit. He was Trystan Fraser.
A year and a half ago, Tiffany had sent her a link to a trailer for Never Alone with the text, I’m dating this guy’s dad!
The Never Alone series chronicled Trystan’s adventures and outdoor survival tips as he trekked into remote locations around the globe. He took only what he could carry, then documented how he was never really alone. There was always wildlife and insects and a thriving ecosystem around him.
Cloe had watched way too many hours of him talking intimately into the camera while she’d been in protective custody. That’s what really made her falter into speechlessness—awe at facing her celebrity crush.
He was taller than she had expected, familiar yet infinitely more handsome, with his neatly trimmed dark hair and straight brows and strong bone structure beneath a naturally tanned complexion. He also radiated a dynamic self-confidence that was even more powerful in person than on screen. He was sexier, which was saying something because she lived for the handful of episodes where he took his shirt off.
While she stood there agog, mute and practically drooling, his gaze swept over her in a way that felt like male interest—which gave her a lurching yes-no response that swung wildly between invitation and rejection. He had a girlfriend, didn’t he?
He gave her a friendly nod and a self-deprecating smile that said, Yeah, I’m that guy from that show.
Oh God. She winced inwardly. He must get this sort of fangirl reaction a lot. How mortifying.
“Are we leaving today or what?” another man asked, making her realize there were two men already inside the boat.
Did they see how obviously starstruck she was?
“Yeah.” Trystan stepped around her and stepped aboard, using his foot to push the boat away from the wharf as he did. The engine was already rumbling. The boat motored into an arc away from the wharf.
Wait. Was that them? All of Wilf Fraser’s sons? Which one had custody of Storm?
Cloe had glanced at their socials many times, hoping to spot her niece in one of their photos. That allowed her to belatedly recognize the man who remained on his feet at the helm. He was the eldest, Reid. The one who’d spoken was settling into the shotgun seat. He was the middle-brother, Logan. Trystan settled behind the driver’s seat, facing backward.
He held her gaze another moment, then they were too far away for her to even call out to stop them.
She wanted to kick herself. Had she really just let them get away like that? She could have wept. What an idiot.
No crying, she scolded herself. She’d done enough of that. It fixed nothing. She was tired and hungry. That was the problem.
She decided to treat herself to breakfast in the pub-restaurant while she figured out her next move and took a table on the patio so she could watch for the men to return.
Over eggs and toast, she learned that yes, those had been the Fraser men heading to Bella Bella, where she’d just come from. Which figured. They hadn’t had a baby with them, though. Did that mean Storm was still here with someone? Her nanny, maybe?
“I was hoping to speak to one of them,” Cloe told the server when she brought her bill. “I don’t have a phone. Do you know where I could leave a message?”
“Go into the office. Take the stairs beside the hardware store or…” She pointed to a house on the bluff that overlooked the marina. “That’s where Reid and his wife live. Emma’s probably home with the baby. You could talk to her.”
Emma. That was the name of Tiff’s nanny, wasn’t it? She scraped the recesses of her mind for what Tiffany had said about her. She was from Australia, wasn’t she? No. New Zealand?
That didn’t matter. Cloe’s heart clutched with nervous excitement at how close she was to seeing Storm.
“Thank you.” She tipped as well as her dwindling cash would allow and left. Shouldering her small backpack, she made her way across the grassy verge where a couple of picnic tables overlooked the marina.
She was getting a better look at this place now that she was on foot. It was cute, but for someone who’d grown up in L.A., it was mind-bogglingly small.
All the essentials seemed to be here, though. A licensed eatery, a hardware store, a grocery store that also served as post office and liquor store, a laundromat, and finally, an espresso bar that also sold gifts, housewares, and ice cream.
She paused outside the grocery store to read the flyers on the corkboard, hoping to see a cheap room to rent. There was only an offer of free kittens and someone selling used tires.
As she reached the far side of what might be called a town square, she arrived at the two hotel-lodges. One was utilitarian, but looked newly refurbished. The other was likely the one that Tiffany had regarded as the jewel that would draw a wealthier clientele to the cove. It was built of massive logs and tons of glass. Each room had a wide balcony that overlooked the water.
That building was the first thing that struck Cloe as pure Tiff. Her sister had longed to be someone who ‘did something.’ She had wanted to be a boss—not the metaphorical kind. The kind who owned a company and hired people and was taken seriously. She had always been drawn to home décor and house flipping and everything high-end so all of this seemed right up her alley.
Cloe stepped inside long enough to learn from reception that even the rooms in the ‘old’ lodge were priced sky-high. Also, they were booked out through October and, no, they didn’t need help in housekeeping at this time.
She tried not to let despondency get its claws into her. Dusk was hours away. Right now, her priority was to see Storm.
Her palms were sweating. Nerves chased her as she carried on to where the graveled forefront of the village forked into a lane on the left and a driveway on her right. The lane meandered toward sparsely placed farmhouses along the shoreline. The driveway rose to the top of a bluff where a tall, split-level house overlooked the marina.
