Serenity Harbor

This conference call with one of their major vendors in Asia was vital. If they didn’t iron out some of the problems now, the ripple effect would completely screw their production schedule.

Thanks to the chaos with Milo, it felt like weeks since he had been able to fully focus on work—not a good situation when he was only just finding his way with his team at the new Haven Point facility.

He knew just whom to blame for this frustration. His mother.

An image of Stella the last time he had seen her flashed across his mind. He had been fifteen, almost the same age she had been when she gave birth to him. A child raising a child. The problem was, he eventually grew up. His mother had not.

Growing up with Stella had been tumultuous at best, a nightmare much of the time.

Guilt dug under his skin at the thought. He didn’t hate his mother. He never had, even after he had escaped the chaos. Yeah, she had been flighty and irresponsible, self-absorbed, emotional and totally without willpower.

Alcohol, drugs, men. She used all of them with regularity.

Milo’s early years apparently hadn’t been much different from his own. The social worker who had contacted him about Milo had pieced together enough information on his brother’s history to reveal that Stella had never really changed her ways. At the time of her death, she had been destitute, living on the streets of Portland with Milo, begging at street corners and high most of the time. Why his brother hadn’t been taken away from her years ago seemed to be a mystery to everybody in the system.

Bo slid into his office chair, catching a view out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the lake in the distance and the soaring mountains beyond.

He thought he had come so far in his own psyche. He hadn’t given much thought to his mother in several years, not since the private investigator he sent to find her came back empty-handed years ago.

He should have kept looking.

Again, guilt pinched at him—the familiar guilt of a son who loved his mother despite her failings and wanted more for her than the hardscrabble, free-living, moment-to-moment existence she insisted on.

He had no choice but to think about her now.

Milo—the troubled, silent, needy son she had given birth to more than twenty-five years after she had Bowie—was a constant reminder. The boy had his mother’s eyes. Their mother’s eyes. Mysterious, deep, dreamy.

With one last sigh, he shoved away the memories and forced himself to focus on the man he had become, someone far more comfortable in the safe, predictable world of technology than with the murky morass of his past.

* * *

“THAT WENT WELL, don’t you think?”

Bowie nodded at his personal assistant, the only person still linked into the video conference call. “Excellent. Sounds like with the information we gave them, they can iron out the supplier problems and be set to move into production by next quarter.”

Peggy Luchino shifted in her chair. She was plump and pretty, with long curly hair and eyes that always seemed to smile. In the two months since he had come to the Haven Point facility, she had taken him under wing—somewhat like the older sister he never had.

“Good work, Peggy. We never would have made so much progress if you hadn’t been there to keep us on track.”

“Thanks.” She gave a rueful smile. “Even so, it went longer than we anticipated. Sorry about that.”

He looked up at the clock above his desk and was shocked to realize he had been on the conference call for two solid hours. Amazing, how fast time went when he was solving a problem, making progress toward a goal. It had always been that way, since his first hacking attempts on a cobbled-together secondhand computer when he was eleven years old.

“Not your fault.”

“I’ll write up the transcript from the call and send you all salient info by first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.”

When her image disappeared from the screen in front of him, Bowie stood, feeling a crick in his neck for the first time from being in one position too long. His stomach rumbled, too. He supposed he ought to grab some lunch before he dived in again.

As Bowie tilted his head from side to side to ease some of the tension in his muscles and ligaments, the gleam of sunlight on water caught his gaze, and he looked out the window at the lake rippling in a summer afternoon.

A quick walk out to the terrace would be just the thing to clear some of this murkiness out of his head, he decided.

It was only after he headed out into the hallway that the reminder of his responsibilities suddenly crashed over him.

Milo!

He had told the neighbor girl he would be on the conference call for only thirty minutes or so and it was now more than double that. Shit! He was the worst guardian on the planet. Every time he thought he was starting to figure out this whole being-responsible-for-a-child thing, something like this happened to remind him of his inadequacies.

Where were they? He rushed through the house, straining to hear any sound that might pinpoint their location, but heard only silence.

Nothing new there. That was one of the toughest things about having a brother who didn’t speak. On the numerous occasions when Milo had slipped away, Bowie had discovered it was tough to find him.

After a quick scan of the house didn’t reveal Milo or Lizzie, he remembered she had planned to take him for a walk on the shoreline trail. Was it possible something had happened to Milo? He had an odd fascination with the water, which scared the hell out of Bowie.

Surely he would have heard from Lizzie if his brother fell in. Someone would have contacted him, right? Unless Lizzie hadn’t been able to call for help because she had somehow gone into the water, too...

His mind racing with grim possibilities, he rushed out to the terrace, the last place he had seen them. Relief flooded through him when he spotted Milo at the water’s edge, poised to throw a small rock into the water.

Close on its heels was more concern when Bowie realized his brother appeared to be alone, with no sign of Lizzie or Jerry Lewis.

Bowie stalked forward and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Milo! You know you’re not supposed to be near the water by yourself! Where is Lizzie?”

“She left.”

He turned around sharply at the voice that most definitely was not the neighbor girl. Instead, he found the lovely Katrina Bailey sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs facing the lake, where she appeared to be keeping an eagle eye on the boy from beneath the shade of an umbrella.

He didn’t know how he had missed seeing her in his initial scan of the patio. She had been lost in shadow, he supposed, plus his attention had been focused on Milo.

Now, as she shifted into the sunlight, he couldn’t seem to look away. She wore a peach shirt and a pair of khaki shorts that made her legs look long and slim and tanned. All that silky wheat-colored hair was on top of her head in a messy, summery style that tempted a man to pull out the pins and see if it was as soft as it looked.

His heart rate, already high with anxiety over his missing brother, kicked up a notch, a reaction he found as unsettling as it was unwanted.

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on your younger brother. Somebody had to.”

He knew the quick flash of guilt was completely appropriate. He should have been more aware of the time.

“Where is Lizzie? I thought she was watching him.”

Katrina gave him a cool look that left him in no doubt about her feelings toward him, which apparently hadn’t miraculously improved overnight. He wasn’t at all sure what he had done to deserve her dislike—okay, except maybe completely forget he had a responsibility to something besides his work.

“She left about an hour ago,” Katrina said. “She had to go to an orthodontist appointment.”

Crap. The girl had told him as much when he asked her to keep an eye on Milo. Like time itself, the memory had slipped his mind. He furrowed his brow. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up here with him. Did she call you or something?”

He thought he saw a tiny hint of color bloom across her cheekbones, though he might have been mistaken.

“No. They bumped into me earlier when I was at McKenzie and Ben’s house, working on a few projects with her for my sister’s wedding reception.”

“Oh. You’re friends with McKenzie.”

Of course she would be friends with McKenzie Kilpatrick, who was married to his friend and the chief operating officer at Caine Tech. It didn’t surprise him a bit. In the short time he’d been in Haven Point, he had already figured out that all the women here seemed to run in one big pack.

They scared the hell out of him, truth be told.

“Yes. She’s close to my sister’s age and they were friends since school—which means we were friends, too.”

He liked both of the women Aidan and Ben had recently married. Eliza Caine and McKenzie Kilpatrick both seemed great. More important to him, they made his friends happier than he’d ever known them.

“We happened to be taking a break in the backyard when Milo and Lizzie walked past. He seemed glad to see me, and Lizzie could see that Milo and I knew each other. As we were talking to them, she kept looking at her watch and mentioned her appointment. I offered to keep an eye on him until you finished your call. I didn’t think you’d mind. We’ve been skipping rocks for the last half hour or so.”

“Sorry you were dragged into it. I should have kept better track of the time. Lizzie told me she had an appointment, but I was wrapped up in the meeting and it completely slipped my mind. Thanks for helping.”

“I’m glad it worked out.” She nodded toward Milo, who was paying them no attention. “I do think he’s getting a little hungry. I would have fixed him a sandwich or something, but I couldn’t figure out how to get in, and I thought you might worry if I took him all the way to my mom’s place.”

Her words weren’t necessarily barbed, but he felt the implicit criticism in them. What kind of ass locks his kid brother out of the house and then forgets him for hours on end?

Yeah. Bowie Callahan. That’s who.

“I didn’t even think about the door being locked. Sorry. Since Milo came to live with me, I’ve had to buy automatic locks and beef up security. He has a tendency to wander.”

That was only one of a million ways his life had completely changed in the last three weeks. He was still trying to process all the changes—and apparently wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Probably smart. You live on a lake. Anything could happen if he managed to get out.”

She didn’t have to tell him that. He had the nightmares to prove it.

“I’ve tried to explain to him that he can’t just take off, but I’m not sure how much he internalizes.”

As if sensing they were talking about him, Milo wandered over to them, apparently done with throwing rocks.

He barely acknowledged Bo but handed Katrina a rock from the lakeshore with as close to a smile as he ever managed.

She looked confused for a moment, then closed her fingers over it. “Oh, that’s a pretty one. Are you giving it to me to keep?”

Milo nodded, though he still didn’t smile.

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to find a great place for it.”

Milo nodded and pantomimed putting something in his mouth.

“You want me to put it in my mouth? I don’t think it would taste very good.”

That was one particular entry in the Dictionary of Milo that Bowie had figured out. “You hungry, buddy?” he asked.

Milo nodded and Bo felt a rather ridiculous sense of accomplishment.

“Want me to make you a sandwich?” he asked.

This time Milo shook his head vigorously and pointed to Katrina.

“Want me to make Katrina a sandwich?” Bowie tried.

Again Milo shook his head. Okay, so he wasn’t completely fluent in Milo-ese yet. He was working on it.

Katrina watched this encounter with an expression he couldn’t read on her lovely features. “I think he wants me to make him a sandwich.”

At this, Milo nodded his head vigorously. The little manipulator.

“Too bad. Guess he’ll have to make do with his boring brother. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

“I don’t mind. I can make him a sandwich. In fact, if you have more work to do, I’m happy to stick around a little longer.”

He blinked in surprise. Now he was quite certain he hadn’t mistaken the color on her cheeks. She was blushing. He just couldn’t quite figure out why. What was he missing here?

“That’s very kind of you,” he said. “But you made it quite clear yesterday that you weren’t looking for a nanny job.”

“Um. About that.” She fidgeted. “I was actually glad Milo and Lizzie stopped by while I was at McKenzie’s house. I wanted to come over later, anyway, to talk to you.”

Bowie felt a tiny flicker of hope. Was it possible? Had she changed her mind? “Oh? Talk to me about what?”

She cleared her throat and looked out at the lake for a second before shifting her gaze back to his. “Um, I was wondering if you were still looking for someone to help you out with Milo for a few weeks.”

That flicker grew into a steady flame. He was almost afraid to let himself hope. He had three major projects at critical points in development at Caine Tech, each important to the viability of the new facility in Haven Point. He couldn’t continue to split his attention between work and his brother, since he wasn’t doing a good job of meeting his responsibilities at either end.

If she could help him over this rough patch until Debra Peters could arrive and start working with Milo, he might have half a chance of making this work.

“Yeah. Desperately. Lizzie is great to help me out in a pinch, but she appears to have a busier social schedule than a Kardashian. Are you really reconsidering?”

She shifted. “Maybe.”

Relief flowed through him. “What happened? The last time we spoke, you made it clear you weren’t interested in helping me out with Milo.”

“Circumstances can change, and so can minds.” She shrugged, still looking uncomfortable. “I can’t help you longer than a few weeks. You’re clear on that, right?”

“Yes. No problem. It will be perfect. The autism specialist I’ve hired will be here to start around then. If you can fill in the gap until she arrives, you’ll be saving my neck.”

“I mean it. My time in Haven Point is limited, and then I have...obligations in Colombia.”

What sort of obligations? She said she was teaching English down there, but he had somehow gained the impression it was a temporary gig. Maybe she had something more permanent lined up. Or maybe she had a man waiting for her there.

That particular idea didn’t sit well with him, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Not a problem,” he answered.

“Good,” she said briskly. “Also, I might have errands to run while I help take care of the final touches on the wedding. As long as you don’t mind, I probably can take Milo with me on most of them.”

Based on his own experience shopping with Milo, he would rather have every single eyebrow hair plucked out one by one than take his brother into a store for any length of time if he didn’t have to. The grocery store meltdown the day before had been on the mild end of the scale.

But he would leave her to figure that out for herself. “That should be fine. Do you need a vehicle to drive? I’ve got several in the garage. You’re welcome to use any of them.”

“No. I left my car here when I went to South America last year, but it sat over the winter and needs some work. My uncle, er, stepfather has some loaners at his lot and says I can use one of those if I need it.”

“Take what you need from the garage. Milo likes the SUV, for what it’s worth, since it has a TV in the back. Now, about the salary...”

She blushed again, which he found utterly fascinating. “I’m fine with the amount you mentioned yesterday. More than fine. It’s completely ridiculous and entirely too much money for a few weeks’ work. But you’re desperate and I need the money, so I guess it’s a win-win all the way around.”

“Absolutely. I can even pay you in advance, if you want.”

Surprise flickered in blue eyes he suddenly noticed were the same shade of blue as Lake Haven in afternoon sunlight. “I don’t need the money right now, but I will before I go back to Colombia.”

Again that curiosity raced through him, along with a little uneasiness. She needed cash and she was going to Colombia. It wasn’t hard for his mind to jump to some obvious conclusions. Call him suspicious, but that didn’t sound like a great combination.

He had made a few assumptions about the woman, considering she’d taught at the local elementary school. Now he wondered if he should have run some sort of background check on her before he offered her a job caring for a vulnerable child.

After the chaos of his childhood, he had absolutely no tolerance for anyone involved in narcotics in any iteration.

No. He wouldn’t believe it. He was going to go with his gut on this one. Her father had been the much-beloved chief of police, and she had a brother who was an FBI agent. He had pieced that together after she told him who she was.

Whatever she was involved with in Colombia, he couldn’t imagine it had anything to do with drugs.

She obviously needed the money for something, but it wasn’t his business. He didn’t probe into any of his other employees’ personal lives.

“Half now, half when you’re done, then. That seems fair. Come inside and I’ll write you a check.”

Her eyes lit up with a raw sort of relief that she quickly concealed. “That’s fine,” she said. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And while you do that, I’ll make lunch for the hungry kiddo here.”

“Sounds good,” he said as he led the way into the house. “You should find plenty of options. I have a housekeeper who comes in three times a week to stock the fridge and prep some easy meals I can throw together.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Usually. Until I forget to add things to the list and end up having to go to the grocery store myself for a couple of items when they run out.”

He wouldn’t be sorry, even though he had been frustrated with himself the day before. If he hadn’t gone to the store with Milo, he wouldn’t have met Katrina and might be stuck for the next few weeks trying to juggle everything himself.

CHAPTER FIVE

KATRINA OPENED THE subzero refrigerator and took in the bounty of food that was entirely too much for one man and one small boy. “What kind of sandwich do you like?” she asked Milo.

The boy looked at the offerings inside the refrigerator for a long moment, brow furrowed, and finally disregarded the ham and turkey slices, instead pointing to a plain purple jar.

“Grape jelly. Good choice. A personal favorite. Do you want peanut butter with that?”

He nodded with an enthusiasm that made her smile. A boy after her own heart. “What else? You can’t have one without the other. Okay, then. Any idea where I could find the peanut butter?”

He nodded again and hurried over to a covered pantry door. Milo tugged on the door but couldn’t open it. When she joined him, she noticed the pantry door was fitted with a hook and eye latch that was out of his reach. Another safety precaution, she assumed.

She flipped the hook and opened the door. A quick scan revealed a jar of gourmet peanut butter on one of the shelves, along with an unopened loaf of bread.

There was more food in here than all the children in Gabi’s orphanage would eat in a week. Katrina grabbed the bread and the jar, then returned to the kitchen island.

Milo stood watching with interest while she laid out several pieces of bread and started spreading the peanut butter from edge to edge on each piece.

He craned to watch each movement while she finished spreading peanut butter. “Want to help?” she asked. “I would love it. Let’s wash your hands first. You always wash your hands when you work in the kitchen.”

He obviously wasn’t crazy about hand-washing, but he didn’t make a fuss when she squirted soap and helped him rub it around on his skin before rinsing while she sang the alphabet song through twice.

“That’s what my students at school have to do while they’re washing their hands,” she told him. “We’ll get a timer for you so you know how long to wash your hands.”

Something told her he would respond better to numbers than letters.

Milo was a complete puzzle. He obviously understood far more than he could communicate back. He could nod or shake his head to indicate yes or no, and she had watched him employ other rudimentary signs with Bowie to get his point across.

She wished she had more experience with language delays so she might know the best way to tackle his particular issues. If she had been his teacher, speech therapy and some sort of augmentative communication device would have been her first priority. A person had to be able to express his needs and wishes.

In her limited time here, she would have to do some research to figure out if she could help him.

“Okay, now that your hands are clean, I’ll grab a chair for you so you can help me with the sandwiches.”

He seemed eager to give her a hand—or maybe he was simply hungry and wanted her to get on with it. She couldn’t quite tell. But after she scooped out some jam onto the middle of a slice of bread, she handed him another knife and showed him how to spread it across the peanut butter. With his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he focused on making sure a little purple smear covered the entire peanut butter landscape.

“That’s perfect,” she said. “Good job. Now, can you do a few more?”

He nodded and turned to the task with gusto after she scooped out more jam and plopped it onto the bread.

“You are one excellent PB&J chef,” she told him when they finished. “Now comes the fun part. Now we eat.”

She hadn’t had lunch either, and the humble sandwiches made with so much fierce concentration looked completely delicious.

To Milo’s plate, she added some baked chips she had found in the pantry and a couple of baby carrots from the vegetable drawer, and he attacked the food with the same enthusiasm he had thrown into making the sandwiches.

She was finishing the last bite of hers—every bit as good as it had looked—when Bowie came back into the kitchen.

Oh man. If she was going to work here for the next few weeks, she really needed to do something about the way her palms started to sweat and her breath seemed to catch in her chest every time she was around him.

He was just so darn gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that she should meet him now, when she absolutely didn’t have time for men.

“Sorry I took so long. I had four texts and a phone call from work that needed my attention.”

He set a check next to her plate and the amount still staggered her.

“Thanks,” she managed to say without sounding completely breathless, then folded the check in half and tucked it into the pocket of her shorts.

“I’m the one in your debt and we both know it,” he said. “You’re doing me a huge favor. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

She wasn’t so certain, but she didn’t argue with him. This arrangement would give her a desperately needed cushion in case her attorney came up with some other expensive fee she needed to pay before she could become Gabi’s mother.

He took in their plates and the jars still open on the island “PB&J. Looks delicious.”

“Milo and I made you a sandwich, too. That one on the work island is for you.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “That wasn’t necessary. I could have grabbed something. Heaven knows, Mrs. Nielson stocks enough food to feed half the neighborhood.”

“We were already making them for us. It was no problem to make one more. Milo spread the jelly, didn’t you, bud?”