Page 39 of Harper

Today, I have a group of eight cruisers meeting me at a local e-bike rental shop at nine o’clock. After they’ve been outfitted in helmets, I’ll give them a quick lesson on how to use an electric bike, and then we’ll be off. Our three-hour itinerary includes a visit to the historic Gold Rush Cemetery, a short hike to Lower Reid Falls, and views of Skagway from the Dyea Road overlook. I’m actually looking forward to it.

“Hey, Harper Stewart!”

“Hey, Mr. Morgan,” I say, waving to the bike shop owner. His wiseass, troublemaking son, Quinn, is Sawyer’s best friend.

“You’re early.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I haven’t done the Bears and Bikes tour in a while. Wanted to sit for a few minutes and go over the map.”

“Fair enough. How many you got today?”

“Eight confirmed,” I tell him. “A twelve-year-old, a sixteen-year-old, and the rest are adults.”

“I’ll get the waivers for the juniors,” he says. “Want to come in for a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks,” I say, sitting in the rocking chair outside the shop door. I open up a well-worn map. “Already had some. Don’t want to get jittery.”

I review the route we take for this tour, reminding myself that no matter how fast I want to go, I’ll have to keep a slow and steady pace, especially for the twelve-year-old. I just pray he or she is a decent athlete and not a brat like the Martin kid.

After a quick, and mostly unnecessary, review, I fold up the map, lean back in the chair, and bask in the morning sun like a frog on a log.

“Morning, Harper.”

I shield my eyes and look up to find Joe Raven standing in front of me. Almost impossibly handsome in his uniform—black pants, black shirt, black vest, wide-brimmed hat—the sight of him makes my stomach flutter.

Shut up, stupid stomach!

“Hey, Joe.”

“Leading a tour?”

“Yep.”

He grins at me. “How come you’re on Bikes and Bears today?”

“Bears and Bikes,” I correct him. “Because Tanner and McKenna are taking honeymooners up north.”

“Tanner, huh? Unusual for him to do the Yukon run.”

I shrug. “Dad thought it would be fun, I guess. You know, a couple of tour guides taking a couple of honeymooners to Whitehorse. More romantic or something.”

“So you’re stuck in town all weekend, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Lucky me.”

I take a deep breath and let it go with a huff, shaking my head at him. “You don’t quit.”

“I’m never going to,” he informs me, his voice steady and even.

“I guess I’ll have to move,” I threaten.

“No, you won’t,” he says easily. “You love your family too much to leave.”

True enough. “I guess I’ll just have to go back to ignoring you.”

His eyes narrow just a touch. “You promised you’d be civil.”

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