“No, but he got his name in a few local papers for being fool enough to try.” She shook her head as she spoke, making the red-gold strands of her hair shimmy a bit. The industrial florescent lighting in this airport lobby was universally unflattering, yet somehow her hair still shimmered like something from a shampoo commercial. He wondered how it would look in the sunshine. Probably pretty good. Probably look pretty good spread out on a pillow, too. That thought caught him right in the throat and choked him. He coughed and picked up his cup from the folding table to take a gulp of water. “Dry pretzel,” he explained. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying that now my father is the chief of police on the island and stops people from doing foolish things like that,” Emily answered.
“Chief of police, huh? Impressive.”
“I guess.” Her expression was enigmatic, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out there was something left unsaid. Not that it was any of his business, and not that he had any chance to ask her about it because a car horn honked outside.
“That’s our ride, Chloe,” Emily said. “Grab your stuff and let’s go.”
Chapter 2
“I promise, Gigi,” Emily said into the phone as she watched the last boat leave the ferry dock—without them on it. “The plane broke down, the taxi was late, and we just missed the boat by five stinking minutes. If I could swim to the island with all our luggage, I would do it. We will be there first thing in the morning.”
She should have known they were going to miss the boat. On the list of all the things that could go wrong, missing the boat was most certainly on there. Now she was going to have to spend money on a hotel room for the night and find Chloe some real food. Those cheese crackers and gummy bears had left her daughter with a stomachache and a bad attitude.
“I’m starving, Mom. Totally legit starving this time. And I’ve only got eighteen percent battery left on my phone. If I don’t get a charge soon, my world goes black.”
If Chloe’s world went black, so would Emily’s. She’d been on the bad side of a dead battery before, and it was not pretty.
“Food. Charge. Sleep. I’m on it.” Emily was trying to put a bright spin on things, but she was just as hungry and tired as Chloe must be. Still, she was the grown-up. Mostly. She needed to be the one to hold it together.
Ryan stood next to them, staring after the boat as if it had personally betrayed him. “I don’t think I’m going to like it here,” he muttered.
“There’s a motel right there. That’s where I’m headed. Come on, Chloe. Grab your suitcases.” Emily reached for hers.
“Here, I got them.” Ryan managed to hoist several of their bags over his shoulder and offered his rolling bag to Chloe. “Lead the way.”
Emily hesitated. She was more than capable of carrying her own bags. She’d been a single mother since Chloe was five years old, and realistically much longer than that since her ex-husband had never been much help to begin with. She’d learned to do things by herself. She prided herself on it, but tonight, she was tired, and there was nothing wrong with letting someone carry your bags once in a while. “You’d make an excellent pack mule,” she said to Ryan.
“Are you saying I’m an ass?” he whispered, and Emily bit back a chuckle.
The three of them crossed the parking lot and walked into the dark, wood-paneled lobby of a generic motel that looked like virtually every other motel in Michlimac City. Paneled walls covered with cheap oil paintings of ducks and geese and views of Petoskey Bridge. At the check-in desk, a gum-chewing, plaid-shirted young woman greeted them with a friendly smile, and Emily was happy to discover this place had everything they needed. Cheap rooms, a bar that served food for another thirty minutes . . . and free Wi-Fi. Perfect. That was pretty much all she required. Ryan got a room, too, and soon they were making their way down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. The carpet had a camouflage pattern, and the walls were papered with scenes of a forest with deer and bears and bunnies wandering around.
“After we drop off these suitcases, Chloe and I are getting something to eat. Feel free to join us, if you’d like. I owe you dinner since you split open that vending machine for us,” Emily said.
“Thanks, I’d like that, but I have a dozen phone calls to make first. If I miss you, I’ll just see you on the ferry in the morning.” Ryan readjusted that overstuffed computer bag on his shoulder.
She felt a twinge of disappointment at his answer. Heaven knew she wanted this day to be over and she was very much looking forward to her lumpy hotel bed, but traveling with Ryan Taggert, the Man in the Nice Suit, had made their misadventure a little more exhilarating. A little more memorable. Subtly flirtatious conversation in the fading light of the cab while Chloe snoozed in the other seat had stirred up in Emily a lovely case of the tingles. A mild case. A very mild case, because she wasn’t interested in Ryan, of course, but it was always nice to stretch those charm muscles once in a while. She wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to that, but apparently he was.
Okay then. If he didn’t care, then she didn’t care.
“All right. We’re taking the very first boat in the morning, so if we don’t happen to see you again . . . well, it’s been interesting.”
He laughed, and she noticed how impeccably straight his teeth were. Someone had an excellent orthodontist. And a personal trainer. He was in good shape. She felt a second twinge of disappointment but tried to chalk it up to nothing more than fatigue and a misplaced sense of connection from having survived that airport debacle together. Surely that’s all it was.
Ryan nodded. “Yes, very interesting. Thanks for helping me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be sitting at that airport.”
“Mom, can I have the key? We’re here.” Chloe pointed at the brass number on the brown wooden door, then took the key from Emily’s outstretched hand. She hauled a couple of suitcases through the opening, dragging them into the room. “See you around, Ryan. Don’t forget to try some moose tracks fudge. It’s the best. Hope we see you over on the island.” She waved and was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. Ryan had stopped walking when Emily stopped, and now they stood awkwardly in the hall, a florescent yellow light buzzing overhead.
“Moose tracks, huh?” he said.
“Rocky road is my favorite, but it’s fudge, so you know, it’s all pretty good.”
“Right. Fudge.” He seemed distracted for a second but then said, “Listen, maybe we could connect while we’re over there? You know, maybe you could give me a behind-the-scenes tour?”
His suggestion seemed innocent enough. She couldn’t tell if he was hinting at anything other than what was on the surface, but either way, she felt a little better. Even if this was the proverbial I’ll give you a call sometime, at least he was making an attempt. Pride was a funny thing. Even though she didn’t really care if she saw him on the island, she at least wanted him to make the effort.
“Yeah, sure. Text me your number.”