Page 16 of Wanting a Family Man

“Not at all. There’s always something of Storm’s waiting to go through. It’ll come out smelling like baby powder. If that doesn’t bother you…”

“It doesn’t. Thanks. I’d love that.” She stifled a yawn.

“I was about to make myself a cappuccino.” He thumbed toward the galley. “You want one?”

“Desperately. I’ll be right out.”

He pulled the door shut and went back to the galley, trying not to think of the fact she was braless beneath her T-shirt. He hadn’t meant to notice, but damn it, he had noticed.

There was a drip coffeemaker for the morning rush of passengers while they were on the water, but he liked the espresso machine when it was just him.

“I don’t know why I brushed my teeth,” Cloe said when she joined him, eyelids still heavy. “The toothpaste will make the coffee taste funny and I’ll have to brush again before we go.”

“We have lots of time.” He offered her the cup, then made his own. “Thanks for making up the beds.”

“No problem. One of my first jobs was in housekeeping at a dive motel. I was hoping they needed someone at the lodge, but they don’t.”

He almost asked her if she’d ever done coffee runs for celebrities, but he was still waiting for a call back on that.

“I’ve never been on a boat like this.” She picked up her mug and cradled it in two hands, hovering on the other side of the island, looking around curiously. “Can I ask how much you charge for the tours?”

Since it was on the website, Trystan didn’t hesitate. “Twelve thousand.”

Cloe dropped her jaw. “Perperson?”

He shrugged. “Canadian dollars. It’s more like ten if you’re paying in US. There’s a small break for groups of four or more.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of money to spend on five days of vacation.”

Plus flights, which were damned expensive, given their remote location, but he didn’t want to provoke an aneurism.

He also didn’t want to beat around the bush. As he finished making his own coffee, he said, “I need to ask you something.”

She dragged her attention from the window to him, eyes widening slightly with apprehension. “Yes?”

“Is Storm in danger? Are you?”

She swallowed and dropped her gaze into her mug.

“Not Storm,” she said firmly. “No one else knows her name except my lawyer. I didn’t even know if she was here so I don’t know how anyone else could.”

“Anyone else being…?”

“My ex.” She rolled her lips inward. “Ivan. I testified against him. He’s in jail, awaiting sentencing, so, yeah, he might be holding a grudge. He knows I had a sister and that she was having a baby, then died. One of my court appearances was delayed when I got that news, but I’d be shocked if he remembers her name. I’m sure he thinks she was living in San Francisco because I never told him otherwise.”

She took a brief sip, wincing. It was probably still hot.

“I deleted all my social media accounts even before I was arrested, trying to keep Tiff out of what was going on. That’s why I don’t have a phone, so no one could track me. I’ve been through my bag so many times, making sure there aren’t any geotags. No one got off the ferry with me last night. I was alone there.”

What he heard in all those precautions was fear.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? You don’t have to.”

“I would love to never tell this story again,” she said, voice strained. “But you deserve to know.” Her brow pulled with suffering, though. She sipped and licked her lips. “There are things I can’t tell you because there are other people being charged and that has to play out, but my testimony isn’t needed anymore.”

Voices sounded outside and she glanced to the wharf, profile one of persecution.

Trystan walked over and closed the door, then turned back to see Cloe had backed herself into the corner near the dining nook. She took one more bracing sip of coffee, speaking in a steady tone, but he heard the tremor beneath it.

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