California Dreamin' Collection Read online

  “You let kids on tours?”

  “Not usually, but this is a special case. Brig made an exception.”

  “Excuse me,” one woman said to Miguel. He stepped away from Claire to listen to her concerns about a dairy allergy. From the corner of his eye, he watched Claire find the big roller bin of life vests and snag a small orange one from it. Miguel breathed easier after the kid was snapped into the vest.

  “Dad!” Claire called.

  Brig walked onto the boat, his face flushed. Miguel raised his eyebrows at him, hoping for good news, but Brig shook his head. That might mean they weren’t approved for the loan…

  “Miguel, get the boat ready for us to head out,” Brig said.

  Miguel saluted and dragged in the walking plank. The ship was anchored by a couple of ropes to the dock, and he undid the first one. On the way to the second, he walked past Claire and Brig, but paused when he heard their conversation.

  “I ran into your mom in the parking lot,” Brig said.

  She grabbed her dad’s arm. “She found me?”

  “I told her I hadn’t seen you, but that woman can sniff out a lie from across state lines.”

  “Crap! I’m not ready to talk to her yet.”

  Miguel piped in. “You may be able to sneak out the back way. Don’t go through the parking lot. Walk on the beach then circle around. When you get to the main road, call a cab.”

  “That could work.” Claire hugged her dad. “But I’m not giving up on convincing you to come home.”

  “I know,” he said, the affection evident in his voice.

  She turned to Miguel. “You haven’t won,” she said, but he only smirked in return. She was leaving his boat and probably wouldn’t return for another four years.

  She took a long breath of ocean air, as if she still wasn’t quite ready to leave, but stepped toward her bag. “You already took the plank down.”

  “I’ll lift you over,” Miguel said. He didn’t wait for her permission before placing his hands on her waist and lifting her onto the dock. He’d been in too much of a rush that morning to notice then, but she smelled nice. Like coconuts. He reached for her bag, but paused when a shrill voice sounded.

  “Claire Avery Bryson, where have you been?” A woman— it had to be Debra, Brig’s ex-wife— stalked down the dock in shoes even more ridiculous than Claire’s had been. Did none of the Bryson women have any sense? “Leaving poor Everett in the middle of a romantic proposal. I did not raise you like this. And Brig!” Her eyes went wide and scary. Nana would call them crazy eyes. Even twenty feet away, he could see the whites all the way around her irises. “You said you hadn’t seen her.”

  Miguel checked behind him, glad that most of the passengers were already in their bunks, putting their bags away. The few remaining had climbed up to the second level and seemed completely oblivious of the drama taking place below them.

  “I lied,” Brig said, clearly relishing each word. Miguel couldn’t help but smile when her crazy eyes narrowed.

  Claire twitched, looking like she wanted to do nothing more than bolt. Miguel was surprised at the protective urge that rose in him at her distress.

  “And what are you wearing? Are those flip flops?” she said, as if her daughter had committed a fashion abomination akin to murder. With every word, she drew closer to Claire like a lion stalking its prey.

  “Miguel,” Claire said so quietly that he hardly heard her. “Get me back on the boat.”

  He didn’t move at first, unsure if he heard her right. Her mom was almost within arm’s reach.

  “Now, Miguel!”

  She lunged toward him just as his arms came up and grabbed her. Her soft body landed against his with more force than he expected, sending him stumbling a couple of steps, but he managed to keep them from falling to the deck.

  Brig, meanwhile, had untied the last rope and now pushed their boat away from the pier. With a jaunty wave at his ex-wife, he headed toward the cockpit.

  “Get your hands off my daughter,” Debra yelled, her face red.

  Only then did Miguel realize his arms were still around Claire, but he only tightened his hold. Claire didn’t seem to mind. The engine kicked on and drowned out the rest of whatever Debra yelled. She waved her arms back and forth, and Everett even ran up the dock beside her.

  “Where’s he been?” Miguel asked, his mouth close to Claire’s ear. This close, her silky hair smelled even better.

  “Probably didn’t want to get sand on his leather shoes.” She waved at her mom with a cheerful smile.

  “Now you’re just taunting her.”

  “Like you’re not doing the very same thing?” She motioned toward his hands, still at her waist.

  “Hey, I don’t see you trying to pull away.”

  “I swear she can still see us,” she said, with a small shiver, though her mom was little more than a speck in the distance. Slowly her mouth stretched into a huge grin, and she let out a loud whoop. “I did it! I stood up to her.”

  “Technically, you ran away from her.” He squinted in the direction of the dock and was pretty sure he could still see the whites of Debra’s eyes. “She’ll probably still be sitting on the end of the dock when we get back.”

  “Don’t ruin my moment. Also, your whiskers tickle.”

  He responded by rubbing his chin against the soft skin of her neck. With a squeal, she pushed her ear toward her shoulder and tried to wriggle away.

  “Hey, Miguel!” Brig stuck his head out of the cockpit. “I know my daughter’s irresistible, but I could use some help running this ship!”

  “Duty calls,” Miguel whispered in her ear before letting her go, loving the blush that stole across her cheeks.

  “Looks like I’ve got twenty-four more hours to put you out of business,” she called to him. The wind blew her long hair across her face. He couldn’t help but appreciate her form as she lifted a hand and tried to capture the wild strands. She looked like she was born to be at sea.

  Miguel grinned at her challenge. “You have more shark in you than you let on.”

  She flashed her teeth, and he laughed. Yeah, the next twenty-four hours were going to be very interesting.

  Chapter Five

  The screen of Claire’s laptop tipped away from her and was replaced by her dad’s large hands. “Step away from the computer.”

  She blinked a few times to let her eyes adjust to life away from the screen. Since Miguel had disappeared to help her dad, Claire had pulled up a screenshot of their website and decided to play with it a little bit. Not because she wanted to help or anything. It just physically hurt her knowing that such a bad website existed out in the web world. Especially a site attached to her family’s name.

  Some things she couldn’t do without WiFi, but she could build something pretty great in a few hours using the existing programs on her computer. With what she’d already done, clients could book tours online, ask questions, post pictures after their tour, and talk about their experiences. Potential customers could take a virtual tour of the Double B and see the excursion schedule for the upcoming year.

  “What time is it?” she asked her dad.

  “Just past five. Miguel’s cooking up some fresh bass for dinner.” As her dad spoke, the savory scent of fish drifted up from the galley.

  Three hours had passed since she’d made the split decision to jump back onto the boat to escape her mother, and she hadn’t regretted it for a second. So what if her plane ticket for this afternoon had gone unused?

  Yes, she still worked— and lived— with her mom, and would have to face her eventually, but she’d decided to take a page out of Jade’s book and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Today, she wanted to breathe in the salty air and pretend she lived the kind of life where ocean adventures were more than the stories she and Dad used to read together.

  “It’s been a long time since I took you fishing,” her dad said.

  Claire closed her laptop and swung her legs over the side of the lounge
chair. “Don’t you have a lot of stuff you need to do?”

  He nodded, but held his hand out to help her up from the chair anyway. “But I’ve spent the last four years doing ‘a lot of other stuff.’ I miss my daughter.”

  Her heart warmed as she followed him to the edge of the ship, where he already had a fishing pole waiting for her. He reminded her how to cast it and reel it in, then handed it over for her to try.

  “I have done this before,” she reminded him and flung the line into the ocean.

  “Now we wait.” Dad leaned his arms against the railing. After a moment, he leaned forward more, squinting. “See that?”

  She followed her dad’s finger pointing to a dark, shadowy spot below the surface of the water.

  “Is that a whale?”

  The tip of a fin came up then glided back under and dove out of sight.

  “Shark,” he said.

  A chill ran through her, but the dark spot was gone. “Remind me to skip out on the evening dip.”

  He laughed and pulled her into a side hug, still favoring his injured arm. “I always knew you were the smart one in the family.” He inhaled deeply. “It’s been too long.”

  “It has,” Claire said, content. She leaned beside him, using one hand to hold on to the pole so she’d feel if anything bit. Ocean mist sprayed her face and arms, cool on her sun-bathed skin. Gentle waves lapped the edges of the boat, rocking them in the water. The sun hovered several feet above the horizon; they still had a few more hours before sunset.

  “Will we see fireworks out here?”

  “The naval base does them about a mile that way as soon as it’s dark.” He pointed northeast. “One of the most spectacular shows you’ll ever see.”

  “I haven’t seen fireworks in years.” She felt a small tug on her line, and for a moment, wondered if she’d snagged a shark, but it when she reeled it in, the line was empty. She put on new bait, threw her line out again, and watched it sink into the dark water. The wind blew against her face, taking most of her worries with it. She’d have to deal with Mom and Everett tomorrow, and things would be ugly after she’d run away today, but with how perfect everything felt at that moment, she had a hard time caring.

  “Claire, remember the time we built that model boat of toothpicks?”

  “Our dream boat,” she said.

  “We were going to buy the real thing and sail off as soon as you graduated from high school.” He shook his head with a smile. “We spent hours on that thing, but before we could finish, your mom had the maid toss it.”

  She picked at something sticky on the railing, remembering how devastated she’d been when she’d discovered it was gone. “I still can’t look at toothpicks without thinking about it.”

  “You and I— we used to have a lot of dreams.”

  Claire’s back straightened, the levity of the moment gone. “And that’s all they were, Dad. Dreams.”

  “What if they could be more?” He touched her on the nose like he used to do when she was little. “I shouldn’t have left you with her.”

  “I was already an adult when you got divorced. It’s not like you gave up custody or anything.” And although that was true, part of her had felt like he had given up on her, that he’d walked away and chosen a life out here over being her dad.

  He’d taken their dreams and left her out of them.

  “In a way, I did give up custody. And your mom is still too quick to throw things away you care about.” He sighed and pushed off from the edge of the boat. He never did like to talk bad about Mom, even when he had plenty negative things he could say. Meanwhile, Mom preferred to act as if he didn’t exist, that Claire and Jade were the product of her and her alone.

  Beside them, someone struggled to reel in their line, hollering with excitement. Dad watched them, eyes distant. “Your mom wants you to be like the hook on the end of her line— always going where she throws you, always ready to catch her newest goal.” He stepped away from the side of the boat and turned to look at Claire, his eyes clear. “Your mom will take everything you give her and more. Don’t give your whole life away just to make her happy.”

  “I’m not,” Claire insisted.

  But was she? She did enjoy building websites, but she hated being accountable to her mom, and having her mother run her life. Following Claire to San Diego had taken things too far.

  “Okay,” her dad said, and tugged her into a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  She breathed in the sun, the sweat, the scent of frying fish and finally released her resentment in one long exhale. She shouldn’t have waited so long to come see him, but she’d stayed away because she’d known this would happen— the old longing would return for the kind of life she could never have. Still, for one night, maybe she could pretend that this was her reality.

  Plus, she’d missed her dad more than she realized.

  “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  Chapter Six

  Claire finished putting away the spices and dishes Miguel had used to cook dinner. The sun edged closer to the water, and everyone on the ship had grown quiet and somber. Even Ethan, the three-year-old, was no longer running around as much as earlier.

  Dad had asked her to clean up the galley, dress in something nice, and meet everyone on deck. With the dishes clean, she slipped into her room and put on a breezy, knee-length sundress she’d borrowed from Jade. It was a deep turquoise, nearly the same shade as Claire’s eyes, with random bursts of peach blossoms. She slid her hair out of the pony tail it had been in all day then ran a brush through the wind-blown tangles. After swiping a bit of peach gloss across her lips, she headed up to the main deck where everyone was already gathered.

  The tour group was quiet, mostly wearing shades of navy and gray, and the men were all hatless. Her dad stood in front of them all with a basket in hand. She came up behind the group and had to do a double take when she looked at the man beside her. Without warning, her heart skipped a beat.

  Miguel had shaved his beard down to a goatee and trimmed his hair until it was tame— and he looked amazing. Gone was the wild, scary man from earlier, and in his place stood someone who would fit in at a model shoot. He wore a pressed white oxford shirt with navy slacks, and a serious expression on his face.

  “You can stop staring any time now,” he whispered while not taking his eyes off the basket. His mouth twitched with the promise of a smile.

  “I’m not staring,” she lied. Even after he’d called her out on it, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She swallowed and forced herself to face forward. “What’s going on?”

  “Burial at sea.”

  “Oh.” All around her, the family listened to her dad explain the process of lowering a water-soluble basket to the bottom and releasing it. After time, the ashes inside the basket would become a part of the ocean itself, and they would always be able to visit this location again, like one might visit a grave in a cemetery. She nodded toward the basket. “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

  “Maybe six times a year. Sometimes family comes, like now, and turns it into a huge trip. The deceased, Marty, loved nothing more than fishing with his family. They wanted to turn this into a memorial trip.”

  Her dad stepped aside, and one of the other adults— Marty’s son— stood to share memories of his father. She hadn’t known Marty, or any of his family, yet she felt herself growing teary as they recalled the fun things they had done together with Marty. She glanced at her dad and caught him watching her back. She swiped at her eyes, and Miguel thrust a wad of blue-tinted toilet paper at her.

  “Thanks.”

  Her dad took over again and explained to the family how to lower the basket into the water. When the remains dipped beneath the surface, Marty’s son grew emotional.

  Miguel’s hand rested on Claire’s lower back, and she wondered if he realized that his thumb was rubbing up and down her spine, sending tingles through her body. He watched the basket as well, his own eyes suspiciously shiny. Eve
rything she’d thought about him shifted. He still looked completely rough around the edges— definitely not the kind of person you’d want to run into in a dark alley alone— yet there was a softness to him she hadn’t seen at first.

  He’d retrieved her shoe. He delivered fish to old women. And he did everything he could to keep her dad’s business running. Suddenly she was filled with an insatiable curiosity about the man beside her: What drove him? What made him who he was— this mix of pirate and gentleman?

  “Should we give them some privacy?” he murmured in her ear.

  The family stood in a solemn row along the railing of the boat and watched until the basket was swallowed up into the depths of the ocean. Claire nodded and followed Miguel to the other side of the ship. At some point today, he’d strung a hammock from some hooks on the second level. Now it swayed in the breeze. He plopped down onto it, his feet hanging off the side, and patted the spot beside him.

  “Will it hold us both?” Claire asked, doubtful. In response, Miguel tugged her down beside him and shifted so they were both lying on the hammock, his arm behind her. “We’re really close,” she whispered.

  “That’s the point,” he said, amusement in his voice. He squeezed her shoulders. “Relax. This is paradise.”

  She tried to ease the tension from her shoulders then ended up staring at the stars popping one by one into the night sky. The sea and sky stretched out around them, seemingly forever, and it was easy to feel as if she and Miguel were the only two people in the world.

  “What would you do if you didn’t work here with my dad?” she asked suddenly.

  He shifted, getting more comfortable, and somehow she found herself snuggled up to his muscular side. The cool ocean breeze blew across her bare arms, and she was glad for the warmth. “You mean if the business went under?”

  “Could that happen?” Her heart didn’t lift at the possibility like she’d expected it to.

  He didn’t respond for so long that she thought he’d blown her off. But he finally answered. “It might,” he said. “This morning, Brig did more than talk to the fishing and licensing people. He stopped at the bank. We need another loan to do repairs and keep this place going, but it wasn’t approved.”