Page 10 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

My gut draws inward, sending a ripple of heat down my spine. “It’s a cover for her true feelings.”

Quinn picks up our drinks and hands one to me. “Don’t tell me you’ve completely lost your touch?”

“I’ll bet she could help me find it.”

He raises his glass. “Then we could return the favor.”

I laugh out loud. Even though we’re just playing around, the weight on my chest softens.

Quinn’s gaze sparkles with mischief. “I’ll drink to that idea.”

We tap glasses and I take a sip. The liquor goes down smooth with a pleasant bite, but it fails to unwind the lingering tension in my core. Despite the casual fun I’m having with my best friend right now, I can’t turn off my churning thoughts. We have a lot to accomplish in Storm Harbor, and zero room for failure.

I glance at the young woman now sizing up her shot at the pool table. I remember the pinprick freckles dotting her shoulders. Too bad I didn’t get to see her smile. I could use a dose of sunshine.

The woman leans over the table, the swaying pendant around her neck glinting in the light. She pauses, like she can feel my eyes on her. I will myself to look away. There’s something about her that’s messing with my head.

“Wait a sec…it’s her,” Quinn says in my ear.

I follow his gaze to the trophy picture of the woman holding the prized fish. The ball cap hides her eyes, but the locket around her neck is a match. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Alaska. Women can be outdoorsy and athletic as well as breathtakingly beautiful. Odessa taught us that.

“Let’s get her to take us fishing,” I say to Quinn.

Quinn raises his eyebrows. Then he glances at the young woman who now has her back to us. “Think she’d do it?”

I take a sip of my drink. “That’s your department. Make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

ChapterFour

LEXIE

Feeling guilty for my attitude,I sneak a glance at the city slickers at the bar. The blond one turns from his friend and our eyes lock.

I spin away, cringing.

Smooth, Lex.

After I miss my shot, Sully takes over. While he masterfully works the table, I tune in to my friends telling stories about the Soren Lake Lodge guests we said goodbye to today.

“I’m going to miss the Conrads,” Stacy says with a sad sigh. “They are the nicest family.”

“I heard they left a sweet tip,” Kaz says from the other side of the second pool table.

“They always do,” I say.

“Those two bachelors in cabin ten didn’t warn their overnight guests about my morning cleaning routine,” Blake says, leaning on her stick. “I walked in to see Gerda Finley buck naked with love bites all over her neck.”

“You didn’t have to rig their gear all week,” Sully says.

Kaz laughs. “At least they could keep up.”

Though I’m not a guide, I know what the gig is like. Some guests are experienced and eager to fish every possible hour of the day. Some are spouses or girlfriends who don’t fish at all and complain we don’t have a spa. Or gluten free bread. Some are new to flyfishing and need a lot of help, or they’re out of shape and need coddling. I love them all though, despite their quirks. Especially the regulars. It's sweet to share a history with people you only see once a year. Plus they’ve kept Soren Lake Lodge in business for decades.

But not for much longer if I can’t dig up ten million dollars. Or start a war.

“One more,” Sully says after he wins.

I stifle a yawn. “I think I’ll head home.”

---