Present day
Zoe shaded her eyes and craned her neck to get a better look at the man steering the small—but obviously expensive—pleasure craft into the harbor. It sure looked like Padric Jeffers, but the chances of it actually being Padric seemed ridiculously small.
In the past fifteen years, shy, creative, crush-worthy Padric Jeffers had grown into jet-setting, famous, still crush-worthy Padric Jeffers, the superstar singer-songwriter. He would be more likely to cruise into the Monte Carlo harbor with a movie star in the passenger seat.
He hadn’t been back to Alaska in fifteen years, why would he come back now? It made no sense, and yet the closer the boat came, the more the man at the helm looked like Padric.
Then again, her eyes could be fooling her. She wouldn’t be surprised, since it had happened a few times at the pizza shop. So many customers came through over the course of the summer, and inevitably a few blue-eyed, dark-haired men resembled Padric. Even though he’d barely turned fifteen the last time she saw him, she knew exactly what he looked like.
He was hard to avoid, being a superstar singer-songwriter, after all.
Dimly, she realized that everyone else had left. Lucas Holt, Megan Miller, the rest of the “harbor rats,” as the workers who populated the harbor boardwalk called themselves. They’d all gathered on the float to welcome back Lucas and Megan, who had just gotten engaged. And then she’d caught sight of the mystery boat, and she’d completely forgotten everything except possible-Padric.
No—definite-Padric. He must have felt her staring, because he turned his head and met her gaze. Dreamboat eyes, bluer than ever, captured hers.
The effect was electric. They hadn’t looked each other in the eye since that crazy-ass trip across the bay. Just like that, all those emotions came storming back. Confusion, fear, anger—a lightning bolt ripping open her heart.
Astonishingly, Padric didn’t look much different from his fifteen-year-old self. He was taller and broader around the shoulders. Under the watch cap he wore, his jaw was firmer, his face more hollowed out, dark with scruff. His hair, longer than before, peeked from under his hat. The dark blue knit cap emphasized the strong bones of his face and the shine of his blue eyes—the eyes that had doomed so many women to hopeless crushes.
A smile began in the corner of his mouth. Eyes plus smile—now, that was a lethal combo. No way could she stay here and subject herself to that.
Without responding, she whirled around and headed for the ramp that led to the boardwalk.
She had work to do. A pizza shop to run. She had no business mooning around here in the harbor.
At a run, she took the steep ramp at twice her usual speed. Good thing they’d just put in new treads with great traction, or she would have twisted her ankle all over again. A seagull abandoned its snack—someone’s leftover fries—and flapped away as she charged past. A few tourists gave her curious glances as she landed panting on the boardwalk. She still wore her apron, after all. The damn thing was practically part of her by now.
Ignoring their glances, she took a shortcut between Soul Satisfaction Ice Cream and a new fish and chips stand. The boardwalk extended almost the full curve of the harbor, with just about every inch inhabited by businesses catering to fishermen, tourists, or sports fishermen. It had grown organically over the years, so instead of the buildings being lined up in a logical way, they tended to pop up wherever space became available. Occasionally someone added a planter filled with petunias or an old half-barrel with a hardy tree.
The entire boardwalk had a makeshift quality, from the stilts that held up the cantilevered wooden balconies to the ever-changing shape of the beach on the ocean side of the boardwalk. In the winter, storms and fierce winds battered the harbor and only the very hardiest ventured onto the ocean. Most of the businesses shut down—Last Chance Pizza included—and hoped that everything would survive until spring.
She knew every inch of this boardwalk. Her entire adult life had been spent out here. She’d taken over Last Chance Pizza right after high school and never worked anywhere else. After Padric and his family left, the boardwalk and its constant tides of strangers had provided a haven for her.
And now he was back.
WTF?
Why? For how long? Why hadn’t anyone warned her?
For a long time, she’d wondered if everything that happened that day was punishment for them kissing. It had felt so innocent. Just two mouths touching; what was the big deal? But all hell had broken out after that. And even though she knew with her brain that her father and Annie Jeffers had been carrying on an affair for four months—long before the kiss—the timing had really messed her up.
She darted across the road that traveled the length of the harbor, dividing the boardwalk into an ocean and a harbor side. Last Chance Pizza was situated on the ocean side, perched on the boardwalk like an old ship about to set sail. Weathered sage-green paint, white trim and a hand-carved wooden sign hanging from iron chains added to the overall maritime effect. With that prime location, Last Chance offered customers a stunning view of the long sweep of the beach, as well as Misty Bay and, on the other side of the bay, Lost Souls Wilderness.
They often had lines winding down the planks of the boardwalk, to the great annoyance of their neighbors, a native arts craft shop and a fish-cleaning station for the charter boats. But right now, only a few people clustered around the front door—thankfully.
Zoe was rattled. Seriously rattled. She’d stopped assuming that she would ever see Padric Jeffers again. And she’d been okay with that.
This—him reappearing so suddenly—this, she was not okay with.
Her twin sisters, Monica and Alexis, started talking as soon as she pushed through the door.
“Where have you been? You said you’d only be gone a second and we have stuff to do. Like, important stuff.” Monica untied her apron and tossed it on the dishwashing table. She was the dramatic one of the two, although both had their moments.
“Seriously important stuff that we can’t talk about yet,” added Alexis as she punched numbers into the cash register to ring someone up. “It’s about the beach festival.”
The two of them were planning a music festival for Labor Day weekend. They were calling it “Last Chance to Rock.” It was safe to say they’d had no idea how much work it would be.
Zoe hurried to the floury counter where the pizzas were assembled. Several order slips hung from clothespins on a line overhead. “One of you has to stay,” she told the twins. “I can’t take orders and make pizza.”
“But—”
“No sense in arguing about it. It’s simple math.” She scattered sausage over a pie that Monica had abandoned halfway through. “Alexis, you stay, since we don’t have anyone for the counter. Monica, you can handle the incredibly, seriously important thing on your own, right?”
A tragic expression of outrage crossed her sister’s face. “It’s not as fun alone.”
“It’s good for you to do things separately sometimes.”
“Says who?”
“Says your big sister who you should listen to.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Then tell me why it’s such a good thing.”
“Because everyone has to learn how to be alone at some point.” That sounded so dire and lonely that even she winced. “You know what I mean.”
“Zoe, if I ever want lessons in how to be alone, I know where to turn.” Monica’s sassy tone made Zoe itch to fling shredded cheese at her. Instead, she added it to the pizza. After sliding a paddle under the pie, she thrust it into the wood-fired brick oven that her parents had trucked all the way from Rhode Island.
“One of you stays,” she said firmly.
Don’t take the bait, that was the trick with the twins. If you got down to their level, all kinds of drama would ensue.
The door opened—the cowbell jangled—and Yanni, one of the fishing old-timers, came in. “Looks like we got a celebrity in the harbor,” he announced as he slid onto one of the stools at the counter.
Most tourists took their pizzas to the glassed-in deck, where they could enjoy the views at tables draped with cheerful anchor-print tablecloths. The locals, on the other hand, had no need for more scenery and preferred the counter, where they could gossip as they waited for their pizza.
Zoe’s body went tense. On autopilot, she continued to build the backlog of pizzas that Monica hadn’t gotten to. Was it possible that the news about Padric had already spread? How?
Monica and Alexis danced with excitement. “Who? Who? Ohmigod, who?” They were always bursting with energy. Sometimes Zoe wished they’d have a morose phase just for some peace and quiet.
“Padric Jeffers is back. Sailed right into the harbor as if he wasn’t a world-famous rock star.”
“Padric Jeffers is here?” Monica clapped a hand over her mouth, and Alexis gave a little shriek.
Then they both swung their gazes toward Zoe, as if waiting for her head to explode. She scowled at them and focused on the pizza she was crafting. They’d been barely more than newborns when Padric had left, but apparently they knew the gossip just like everyone else in Lost Harbor.
“You two seem awfully excited. I didn’t know you liked angst rock.”
“There’s a lot more to him than that,” Alexis corrected her. “Grownups just don’t get it.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “He’s the same age as me.”
“Is he?” Alexis blinked at her innocently. “You seem so much older.”
Zoe pretended to threaten her with a roll of pepperoni. Then something occurred to her. Padric being back—there were complications to that, things she needed to warn the twins about.
“Come over here, you two. I have to talk to you both.” She beckoned to them, creating a cloud of flour in the air, almost like a smoke ring. They clustered into the cooking area, being careful not to get too close to the brick oven, which radiated heat.
“What’s up, Zoe? Aren’t you feeling well?” Monica’s expression was entirely too concerned. If her imp of a sister was assuming she was going to fall apart because Padric was back, she had it all wrong.
“I’m perfectly fine. But Mama cannot find out about Padric. Seriously, not a word. You don’t remember what the Scandal was like. She will flip out if she knows a member of the Jeffers family is here.”
“She’s probably going to hear it from someone,” said Alexis, wide-eyed. “Like at stitch-and-bitch”—referring to a group of local knitters and crocheters.
No, she’s been skipping stitch-and-bitch. She’s been sticking close to home and we need to make sure she keeps that up until Padric leaves. She cannot find out he’s here. Promise me.”
They nodded, although Monica wore a rebellious frown. “But the Scandal was so long ago.”
“No no no, oh naïve one. Do you know nothing about the Bellini family? Mama is still upset about the British taking all the Greek sculptures out of the Parthenon. Something that happened fifteen years ago? Forget it. That’s like yesterday to her. If she finds out he’s here, it will be the freakout to end all freakouts. She cannot know, or our lives will become miserable. You understand?”
The twins nodded more seriously this time.
“Okay. Go, Monica, do whatever it is you were planning.”
The twins exchanged a cautious look—the kind filled with communications only they could interpret.
“Actually, I’ll stick around. I have a feeling it’s about to get busy.”
“Great.” Zoe beamed at Monica. Maybe her sisters were finally starting to become more responsible.
Alexis went to take an order and Zoe got to work on the next pizza. The normal chatter of a busy lunch crowd took over, and Zoe could almost pretend that everything was back to normal.
Yeah, right. Nothing would be normal until she found out what Padric was doing here and, more importantly, when he’d be gone again.
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