Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)

“No,” Oliver says. “When he was nineteen his dad had the heart attack and then a stroke a year later. Colton was sixteen. Levi was like eleven? There was literally no other choice for Finn but to take over.”

“His father is better now,” Ansel continues. “But there’s a lot he still can’t do, and Finn has basically run the entire thing since he was a kid. He took the summer off one year for Bike and Build when Colton was old enough to give Finn a break, and he came to Vegas, but other than that, this trip to San Diego was his only time away from the water.”

I nod, lifting my water glass with a shaky hand. I want to see him now, want to kiss him and help him and fix all of this.

“I actually like what you tried to do,” Ansel says. “When I talked to him a couple of nights ago he told me about it.”

“Did he use lots of four-letter words?”

“None, actually.”

I raise my eyebrows, impressed.

I look over at Oliver. “When you saw him this weekend, did he tell you what he’s going to do about the business?”

Oliver tilts his head, blinking. “Harlow.”

So he’s not going to tell me. Fine. I go for broke; I have no more pride: “Did he even mention me?”

Oliver shrugs. “Not much. But remember this is Finn we’re talking about here. He usually says the least about the things he’s thinking about the most.”

I laugh. Well played, Aussie.

OUR FLIGHT TO Victoria on Monday lands at four in the afternoon, and Sal and I ride to the Magnolia Hotel together in a cab, discussing the plans for the next two days: meetings, boat visits, and more meetings. The air here smells like ocean, but so different from home. It’s heavier, saltier somehow, and the winds feel more substantial, making me think of San Diego as a sweet, docile beach town. This place is on the edge of the ocean frontier.

I’m so nervous to be here, so close to Finn again that even in the October sun, I feel chilled. The last time I came here, I had nothing but the champagne bubbles of excitement, effervescent in my stomach and giving me a secret smile the entire trip. I barely noticed the wilderness, the space between houses, and how much water there is, everywhere.

This time, I notice everything. Even as we discuss work, and names I need to know and what kinds of notes Sal needs me to gather on this trip, I notice it all.

Finn lives here, I can’t stop thinking it. He lives here, in this otherworld, this alternate life surrounded by green and the sapphire-blue of the ocean. Fred’s bar and Starbucks and Downtown Graffick feel so far away from all of this. Finn must have felt like he was stepping into Tokyo when he came and stayed with Oliver. Into a video game.

I can’t even imagine how he felt about Vegas.

We check in, and as we wait for the elevator, Sal looks down at his phone and makes a little hm sound in the back of his throat.

“What?”

He smiles, handing me his iPhone open to Variety and I begin reading as we step into the elevator.

Adventure Channel Signs Roberts Brothers for “The Fisher Men”

The Adventure Channel has signed on for an unprecedented two full seasons of a new reality series following a family of four men—three single brothers and their father—as they navigate the fishing industry off Vancouver Island’s west coast.

The program, featuring Stephen, Finn, Colton, and Levi Roberts, will be an “exploration of family responsibility and the complex dynamics binding these men by love and the business they run together. The story of each son’s quest to both save the family business and build a life off the water in the often-brutal Pacific Northwest fishing industry is what drew the Adventure Channel to this show,” according to the co-executive producer, Matt Stevenson-John.

Along with Stevenson-John, Giles Manchego is on board to produce. The deal was finalized on Friday, according to an Adventure Channel spokesperson. “The Fisher Men” is slated to begin filming in the spring when the salmon season begins, with episodes premiering July 1.

“Wow. ” I feel every particle of air evacuate my chest in a gust with that single word. Handing Sal back his phone, I say in a tight voice, “They signed on.”

“Looks like it.”

I’d told Sal there was a possibility, so he’s clearly not surprised by any of this, but I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but seeing it like this—in the crisp digital font accompanied by one of the promo shots Finn hated so much—I’m unprepared for the way it hits me like a physical blow to the center of my chest.

I’m not entirely sure my legs will keep me upright and I lean against the wall of the elevator.

“You all right over there?”

“I just . . .” I close my eyes, take three deep breaths the way my father always told me to when I felt overwhelmed. Oliver and Ansel probably knew, and didn’t tell me. Finn didn’t call me. I feel so . . .

insignificant. “I didn’t expect him to do this.”

But didn’t I? Didn’t I sense he was leaning this way, knowing it’s what his family wanted? If he didn’t take Sal’s offer, what else could he have done?

“It’s a great move, if you ask me,” Sal says, and I know him well enough to know that he’s choosing to act oblivious to my internal meltdown. “From what I hear, the AC is putting a huge amount of money into this one. Finn’s family will get up-front costs, of course. But a cut of the merchandise, too.”

I nod numbly. It is a good thing. It’s an amazing thing. I repeat this thought over and over.

We arrive at my floor and Sal tells me to meet him at eight the next morning in the hotel executive lounge. “I’m sure you’ll find something to do,” he says, as I step out and he remains in the elevator because he’s staying on the Fancy Ass People floor.

“We don’t have plans tonight?” To be honest, with this new information, I want nothing more than to be distracted by Sal’s sharp wit and endless industry stories.

“I’m having dinner with some friends,” he says, with a casual wave of his hand.

I only have time to realize that he planned this so I’d have a free night here and to get out the words “You jackass! Did you talk to my dad?” before Sal grins and the elevator doors slide closed.

“I’m not going to see Finn!” I yell at the sealed doors anyway, just as an older gentleman steps forward and presses the down call button. “I’m not,” I tell the stranger before glancing at my room key and stomping down the hall.

I PUT MY bag down and after a quick search on my phone leave almost immediately to find him.

The sun setting over the water is nearly too beautiful to describe, and I wish someone was here with me to agree that it’s unreal. The sky is fire orange at the horizon, fading to a deep blue-lavender with dappled clouds. The taxi drives me up along the coast from Victoria, past Port Renfrew toward Finn’s house in Bamfield, situated right on Barkley Sound.

My head is still spinning and I want to see him more than I want anything else at this moment. I ask the driver to leave me at the dock, knowing if there’s any light left that Finn is likely to be on his boat. But when I look out at the scores of boats tied to their slips, I realize finding him will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I wander along the slips, looking for the Linda, looking for someone who looks like they might know where to find Finn Roberts, Adventure Channel star-to-be. But the pier is quiet, and only the creaking of ropes against their ties and the water lapping at the hulls of hundreds of boats surrounds me. The thought that some of these boats are sitting here because their owners can’t afford to take them out is sobering.

“You need some help?”

I turn, looking up into the sun-kissed face of Finn twenty years from now. I know his dad from the picture, but also because Finn looks exactly like his father: looming, broad-shouldered, hazel eyes steady and unblinking.

“You must be Mr. Roberts.”

He shakes my hand, brows drawn in curiosity. “I am. And you are?”

“I’m Harlow Vega.”

Stephen Roberts’s face freezes, eyes going wide before he breaks into an elated smile. “Well, look at you.” And he does. He takes my hands, holds my arms to the side, and looks me up and down. “You sure are somethin’. He know you’re here?”

Shaking my head, I say, “He has no idea.”

“Oh, you bet I’m going to enjoy this one.”

Whether anyone else will enjoy this reunion? Remains to be seen.

He takes my arm and leads me down the dock, turning left to head down a long rickety pier. We reach the end, and stop in front of a boat with Linda painted across the stern.

“Hey, Finn,” his dad calls out. “Got somethin’ to show ya.”

A blond head appears around a corner and I immediately recognize Finn’s youngest brother, Levi.

He’s as tall as Finn, but not nearly as broad, and has messy blond hair and a baby face that I’m sure the television producers will lose their mind over.

Levi stares at me for a beat before busting out laughing. “Oh, shit. Finn! Come down.”

Footsteps clomp on the stairs leading down from the top house and I see his tall rubber boots over waders, and then his torso covered only by a soaking wet white T-shirt that is marked with grease stains. He’s holding some type of gear in a greasy rag and his shirt is so wet I can see every single line of his chest. I can see his nipples. I can see the trail of hair that leads from his belly button down to his . . . good Lord.

Universe, you’ve got to be kidding me.

His face appears then, and my chest seems to cave in on itself. He has a grease smear across his chin, too, and his tanned face glistens with sweat. He sees me immediately, his face transitioning in a millisecond from relaxed curiosity to tight confusion. “Harlow?”

“Hey.”

He glances at his dad and then over at Levi before looking back at me. I swear when our eyes meet my heart is pounding so hard I’m tempted to look down and check to see whether it’s actually moving my shirt. He looks like he’s in pain, and I want to know: Is it me? Or did you actually hurt yourself fixing the boat?

“What are you doing here?” he asks, carefully putting the gear down on a broad railing. He uses the dirty rag to futilely wipe his hands clean.

“I’m working with Sal. I had a free night, and since you left without saying goodbye to me, I figured I would come do it for you.”

He closes his eyes, rubbing his forearm across his face as his dad lets out a low whistle, saying, “Didn’t tell me that bit, Finn.”

Finn’s eyes snap to his father. “Dad, come on.”