Christmas In The Cove. Carol Ross

Brian Wynn knew all about it. Still, after all these years, Eli wanted to take the man down. The only thing holding him back was the promise he’d made to his own father, and his desire to protect Susannah Wynn. Lately he’d been thinking about that, though, wondering if he could manage one without the other. Could he be satisfied by getting revenge against Brian Wynn even if the man wasn’t aware of who had extracted it?

      “Look, Eli, if you’re worried about me, about something personal regarding our history affecting my job performance or making things difficult for you, I can assure you that won’t happen. My job always comes first. And I think we’ve established that it’s important for you to treat me like anyone else. I will give you the same courtesy.”

      “I know that, Aubrey. Your record is impeccable. Your colleagues love you. Everyone on base respects you. I’m proud of you. You should be really proud of yourself.”

      He hoped he wasn’t imagining the hint of blush on her cheeks.

      She shifted on the bench to look at him. “Alex says you’re here to check up on us?”

      Now she was referring to what he was “officially” doing here. The paperwork said that he and Gale were in District 13 to perform an evaluation of the base’s airborne search-and-rescue missions.

      “To ensure that proper procedures are being followed.”

      She stared back at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. Without her signaling distress or radioing for assistance, it was debatable as to whether he really should have gone into the water after her. No one was questioning what he’d done—yet, anyway. Still, not exactly a stellar example of what he’d just claimed he was here to do. If he was trying to maintain his distance where she was concerned, his actions had pretty much blown that, too. He needed to get his head together where she was concerned, and he needed to get his act together where his job was concerned.

      This case had to come first.

      His gaze traveled back to the diving board. “How many ‘rescue jumps’ do you think we practiced off that diving board?”

      He ignored how her gravelly chuckle sent a jolt of heat through his bloodstream.

      “Um, approximately one million and fourteen? Remember how we used to tie towels onto a swim noodle to use as our ‘survivor.’” She added air quotes.

      They laughed again, reminiscing about the elaborate “rescue missions” they would invent.

      “I can’t stand the thought of this place closing.” He swiveled so he was facing her again. “You think you can win this contest, huh?”

      “Of course,” she answered confidently.

      “How can I help?”

      She smiled. “That’s really sweet, but you just got to town and all. I’m sure there are a million other things you’d rather do with your off time.”

      “None of them this important,” he said, ignoring the eye-roll from his conscience. He suddenly wished his motives were as pure and selfless as hers. “I’m serious. I want to help.”

      “Well, the crab races are first on the agenda. If you’re serious, I’ll give you Gabby’s number and you can ask her. I’m sure she could use the extra hands.”

      Just then her newest student limped out of the locker room wearing a bright blue swimsuit and a knee brace around one leg. She lifted a hand and waved.

      Eli’s gaze followed hers, along with a dose of confusion. “She looks familiar. Is that...?”

      The girl held up a finger in a just-a-minute gesture.

      “Danny Cruz, from the Respite?” She was grinning when she looked his way again. “Yep. I’m going to teach her how to swim.”

CHAPTER FIVE

      ONE OF THE many things Aubrey loved about Tabbie’s was that the owner, Lily, didn’t blare music so loud throughout the pub that you couldn’t hear yourself think—or talk to your friends. And the music she did play was a nice mix of country and classic rock. Except during the holidays when vintage Christmas tunes filled the air, like they did now.

      It was a popular hangout for Coasties and local folks who were more interested in a sourdough bowl of seafood chowder, a couple microbrews and maybe the latest gossip than in forming a romantic liaison.

      Aubrey was sitting in her favorite booth sipping herbal tea and listening to Bing Crosby dream about a white Christmas. Normally she would relish both but right now she couldn’t enjoy either because Nina was busy explaining why her impulsive purchase of the county’s iconic Quinley’s Berry Farm was a good idea. Odd, how she’d been thinking about that place just yesterday. It was like, now that he was back, all things Eli had decided to rise up out of the depths and taunt her.

      “This is perfect for me. I need to get out of the city. I need fresh air and space and the countryside.” Nina smoothed her thick ash-blond hair over one shoulder.

      “Pacific Cove isn’t exactly a metropolis, Nina. Mayor Hobbes was just telling me last week how his worst fear is that we’re never going to break that three thousand mark.”

      The coastlines of Washington and Oregon were dotted with small towns like Pacific Cove. In the summertime the population more than doubled. During weekends and holidays, tourists could swell those numbers manyfold. The nearest city of substantial size was hours away. There was a constant battle between the folks who wanted to maintain this small-town feel and those who wanted “growth.” The proper way to foment that “growth,” as well as acceptable manifestations, varied considerably depending on who you talked to. Although, luckily, most of the town seemed on board when it came to the Christmas competition. Pacific Cove pride was at stake.

      “All we have here is fresh air. Unless you’re down at the docks and then it can get a little fishy.”

      “I love pie,” Nina countered as if this was also a legitimate argument for her relocation to the countryside.

      “So...what?” Aubrey asked with a baffled shake of her head.

      “Everyone loves pie.” She jabbed a finger Aubrey’s way. “Well...except you.”

      “I like pie. I just don’t eat it because it has too much sugar.”

      “Yeah, well, as I was saying almost everyone eats pie. Therefore, they would love berries with which to make pies, right? Or muffins or jam or...compote or aioli or whatever the foodies are into these days. And smoothies—you eat those. I could sell them at the farmer’s market in Astoria.”

      Aubrey stared blandly at her sister even as her heart clenched inside her chest. Less than a year ago her big sister, at the age of thirty, had been running her own wildly successful marketing company. She’d owned a three-million-dollar showpiece of a home in California and a vacation house in Aspen. That was before her world had imploded. Now she was going to retire to the countryside where she planned to grow organic berries and bake pies?

      Nina met her eyes with a solid challenging gaze of her own. She was going to make her say it? Fine. If that’s what it took to keep her sister safe, she’d say it. Aubrey accepted that it was her role in life to keep people safe—including her family.

      “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be living that far out.”

      “It’s twelve miles from town. I clocked it yesterday when I drove out there. That’s hardly far out.”

      “You know what I’m talking about. You’re way closer to civilization here.”

      “You honestly believe the Cove is civilization?” she quipped.

      “You know what I mean.” Aubrey stared, willing her sister to take this seriously.

      Nina began fiddling with her silverware. “I haven’t had