Page 47 of Wanting a Family Man

He had thought calling out their attraction would do something to dilute it, but if anything, it amplified the undercurrents between them. Even as he was trying to be careful and respectful of her, he kept seeing through her brave face to the fact he was hurting her. She was trying to be so tough and resilient, and she was nothing but bruises and heartbreak on the inside.

This morning, he’d already been awake and aching when he’d heard her rise. He’d lain there promising himself to keep his distance and opened his door to the chilly morning air, trying to cool the heat in his blood.

The next thing he knew, he’d been calling her through his cabin to watch the orcas.

He kept telling himself it had been altruistic. She was still very raw from everything she’d been through. He knew the healing power of nature and had wanted to give her that unique experience.

But it had been more selfish than that. Maybe he couldn’t touch her and kiss her and do all the erotic, wicked things that insisted on infiltrating his thoughts, but he had reveled in standing close to her and hearing her breath catch and watching the light of discovery come over her face.

Cracking dumb jokes and watching her eat up photos of Storm was fun, too. The whole time she’d been looking at his phone, he’d been thinking about how theStorm Ridgewas empty and her thighs lookedsosmooth and he bet her bra was one of those barely there half-tank-top things that made him wonder why a woman bothered wearing it at all.

He’d forgotten about the photo of her sister, though.

Ambushing her with that had been a clumsy move. Holding her while she cried it out had been heaven and hell. He hated that she was hurting, but he loved how she fit so well against him.

He managed to push his hunger to the back of his mind while he helped the boys after they came aboard. Stefan was excited to pull out the wildlife identification book and confirm it had been a harbor seal he’d spotted while kayaking.

A short while later, Elodie came back with Johnny, wanting to relax with her book. “Brielle wants to kayak, but I’m pooped. Johnny said you might be willing to go with her?”

“Me?” Cloe pointed at herself. “I’ve never done it.”

“Brielle does it all the time,” Elodie assured her. “She’ll show you and do most of the work.”

“And Johnny will come out with the Zodiac if you get into trouble. Wear your life preserver.” Trystan encouraged her with a nod.

“You’re really going to pay me to go have fun? Okay.” She headed out and he kept an eye on her once she was out paddling along the shoreline with Brielle, laughing and pointing. She looked relaxed when they came back aboard in the late afternoon.

By then, everyone was returning. Some guests were ready for a cocktail; others went below for a nap.

“How do you even call this a job?” Cloe asked him once she’d changed into dry clothes and was setting out happy hour snacks.

He refrained from pointing out this was still new for her. Also, this was a very nice batch of guests. They weren’t all like this. He didn’t want to burst her bubble or slag her sister, so he didn’t mention that Tiffany’s aim to bring a bunch of rich folks into the area looked good on paper, but it was a double-edged sword. Sure, it was an opportunity to educate people about this unique environment, but it also attracted entitled assholes who expected to be catered to.

“Who wants to check the crab traps with me?” Johnny asked, drawing several guests to the rail, the boys among them.

There was lots of excitement when the first trap held five. Johnny showed them how they measured each one with the calipers and threw back the two females. The second trap had three more keepers. Cloe took photos with everyone holding a crab in each hand before Johnny took the shellfish to the stern where he would discreetly kill and clean them before they were steamed for dinner.

On their way to their anchorage for the night, Trystan paused for guests to take a photo of the cairn that marked where Sir Alexander Mackenzie had arrived in 1793.

“He’s our Lewis and Clark, a fur trader with the North West Company and the first European to cross the Rockies to the Pacific north of present-day Mexico.” The water was choppy so they didn’t go ashore. Besides, “Once we anchor for the night, a member of the Nuxalk Nation will take you on a short walk to see some petroglyphs and tell you more about that expedition.”

The interpretive walk was hosted by his mother’s neighbor’s fifteen-year-old son, Gordon. His family had been coming to this fishing camp since before Egypt began building pyramids. At first, Gordon had been shy and talked too fast, but he was gaining confidence and really didn’t need Trystan’s moral support anymore. Trystan went along now because some guests liked to hang back and take photos while others were quicker to move to the next point of interest.

Cloe was an eager student at the front of the pack, listening attentively to Gordon explain why the route that Alexander Mackenzie had followed was already well traveled.

“Indigenous people had a network of trade routes that were often called grease trails because they were used to exchange hides and meat and dried berries for the coastal tribes’ ooligan grease.”

“What’s oo…?” Stefan asked.

“Ooligans are a skinny little fish.” Gordon held his fingers about eight inches apart. “Sometimes the explorers called them candlefish because they were so fatty, they could be dried and strung on a wick to be burned like a candle.”

“Is that true?” Stefan was skeptical, probably because he had an older brother who regularly fed him horseshit.

I feel ya, kid, Trystan thought.

“It is.” Gordon nodded. “They’re the first fish to return to our streams in the spring. That made them very special. After a long winter, when other food was running low, the Native people finally had something to eat. They salted them and dried them and smoked them—”

“Smoke? Like…” Karl put two fingers to his lips as though drawing on a cigarette.

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