Always Never: A Somerset Harbor

Novel (Cargill Brothers Book 4)

Charlotte Byrd & Ronan Byrd
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ALWAYS NEVER
A SOMERSET HARBOR NOVEL

CARGILL BROTHERS
BOOK 4
CHARLOTTE BYRD
RONAN BYRD
 CONTENTS

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About Charlotte Byrd
Also by Charlotte Byrd
About Always Never
1. Parker
2. Maya
3. Parker
4. Maya
5. Parker
6. Maya
7. Parker
8. Parker
9. Maya
10. Maya
11. Maya
12. Maya
13. Parker
14. Maya
15. Maya
16. Parker
17. Parker
18. Parker
19. Maya
20. Parker
21. Maya
22. Parker
23. Maya
24. Parker
25. Maya
26. Parker
27. Maya
About Charlotte Byrd
Also by Charlotte Byrd
Copyright © 2023 by Byrd Books, LLC.

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 PRAISE FOR CHARLOTTE BYRD

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 ABOUT CHARLOTTE BYRD

Charlotte Byrd is the bestselling author of romantic suspense novels. She has sold over 1.5 Million books and has been translated into five
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 ALSO BY CHARLOTTE BYRD

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Somerset Harbor
Hate Mate (Cargill Brothers 1)
Best Laid Plans (Cargill Brothers 2)
Picture Perfect (Cargill Brothers 3)
Always Never (Cargill Brothers 4)

Tell me Series
Tell Me to Stop
Tell Me to Go
Tell Me to Stay
Tell Me to Run
Tell Me to Fight
Tell Me to Lie

Tell Me to Stop Box Set Books 1-6

Black Series
Black Edge
Black Rules
Black Bounds
Black Contract
Black Limit

Black Edge Box Set Books 1-5

Dark Intentions Series

Dark Intentions
Dark Redemption
 Dark Sins
Dark Temptations
Dark Inheritance

Dark Intentions Box Set Books 1-5

Tangled Series
Tangled up in Ice
Tangled up in Pain
Tangled up in Lace
Tangled up in Hate
Tangled up in Love

Tangled up in Ice Box Set Books 1-5

The Perfect Stranger Series

The Perfect Stranger
The Perfect Cover
The Perfect Lie
The Perfect Life
The Perfect Getaway

The Perfect Stranger Box Set Books 1-5

Wedlocked Trilogy
Dangerous Engagement
Lethal Wedding
Fatal Wedding

Dangerous Engagement Box Set Books 1-3

Lavish Trilogy
Lavish Lies
Lavish Betrayal
Lavish Obsession

Lavish Lies Box Set Books 1-3

All the Lies Series

All the Lies
All the Secrets
All the Doubts
All the Lies Box Set Books 1-3

Not into you Duet

Not into you
Still not into you

Standalone Novels
Dressing Mr. Dalton
Debt
Offer
Unknown
 ABOUT ALWAYS NEVER

He’s the black sheep. She’s a spoiled princess. Her family thinks he’s a poor sailboat captain.
What happens when they find out that he’s really the billionaire son of their worst enemy?
I'm the youngest Cargill brother, the black sheep of the family, the only one to turn down my trust fund
and live life on my own terms: out at sea as a sailboat captain.
But then Maya MacMillan waltzes into my life. She’s a collage artist and a teacher. She’s also smart
and beautiful and completely forbidden. Maya is the daughter of the MacMillan family, my family’s
main rivals and the enemy of every Cargill.
I can’t tell her my real last name but I also can’t stay away from her. She wants me too, despite the
fact that her family hates me and for all of the wrong reasons.
They think I’m a poor guy from the wrong side of the tracks who lives in a crappy apartment above
his sailboat charter business. Little do they know that I’m actually an heir to a billion dollar fortune of
the Somerset Harbor Yacht Club and the main competitor to her family’s new resort. On top of that,
she has secrets of her own.
But we’re not serious. We’re just having fun. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
What happens when this fling turns into something more? What happens when I start to fall in love
with the one woman who I can’t ever have?
Forbidden romance
Rivals romance
Billionaire romance
Black sheep/ spoiled princess
Small exclusive wealthy town romance
Always Never is a forbidden standalone romance about the youngest Cargill brother. It can be read
by itself or in combination with the other three books.
 1

PARKER

T hey say it’s bad luck to start a journey on a Friday. But I make my own luck. We had left
Somerset Harbor with blue skies on the horizon and a clear forecast, so I wasn’t worried about
the old superstition as we set sail.
The wind held fast, carrying us straight for Bermuda. We’d gone a few weeks ago with some clients
and it was great, so when the crew decided we needed to cut loose before the upcoming regatta,
Bermuda was the first place they requested. I try to be a decent captain and give them what they want
when I can, so it was an easy yes.
The sultry breeze fills my lungs. Blue skies and bluer water make me smile. The open ocean always
has. It is the only place the world makes any sense. Things are cut and dried on the water. The black
and white nature of it gives me peace. Standing at the wheel of the yacht feels like standing on top of
the world.
My first mate smiles as he ambles up to me. Ewan Jones is the best thing to happen to yachts since
sails. He’s six and a half feet tall and built like a Viking, though he keeps his red hair trimmed short.
Because of his musculature and his perpetual good mood, he lifts crates and spirits in equal measure.
“Captain,” he begins in his thick Scottish brogue, “you think this weather will hold?”
He knew as well as I did questions like that tempted fate. “You really asking that, Ewan?”
He chuckled. “Fair point. But me, Dillon, and Hal have a bet going. You want in?”
“I’ve been doing this long enough to know betting on the weather is the best way to ruin it.”
“Like women, eh?”
“Like a lot of things.”
His blue eyes become thoughtful, and I am not surprised. Of my crew, Ewan is also the most likely to
worry about any of us. Big mom energy. Quietly, he asks, “You over everything with Jocelyn, Cap?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Wasn’t that long ago. Thought you might still be hung up.”
I frown. “What would make you think that?”
“I haven’t had to discreetly wake you up in your cabin with some girl I don’t recognize.”
“So?”
He nearly smirks. “That’s the moment I know you’re over someone.”
“Thank you for checking in, but I’m fine. I’m glad I could introduce her to her husband.”
“Such a strange thing that. To think her destiny chartered your yacht—
“Not all that strange, really. We are Somerset’s only decent yacht charter. Where else was he going to
go?”
At that, he smirks. “You just don’t want to admit you believe in fate.”
I chuckle. “I believe in a lot of things. The impact of quality music. The perfection of a taco made by
a grandma. That tingle you get when you stomp everyone else at the regatta. But fate?” I shrug. “That’s
too close to luck, and I don’t believe in luck I can’t create.”
“That’s why you have such good luck—you work hard to make it. And speaking of working hard, you
gonna call the girl you met on the island last time?”
“The bartender?”
He smiles and nods. “She said, if you ever come back—
“Yeah, she did, but I don’t think so.”
“She was gorgeous. Why not?”
“Not my type.”
He scoffs. “Not hot enough for you?”
I laugh. “She was plenty hot. I’m just not feeling it.”
“You mind if I call her then?”
“I’ll text you her number.”
“See that? My luck is changing already.”
Hal runs up from below deck. His black mass of curls has gotten shaggy, so it bounces in the air as he
jogs to us. “Cap, distress call.”
“Ewan—
“On it,” he says, taking the wheel.
I run down below deck to the radio, spotting Dillon in the kitchen. Whatever he’s making smells
delicious. Great guy, but handier in the kitchen than on the boat itself, so he mostly cooks for us
whenever we don’t need another pair of hands up top.
I grab the microphone and tell the distressed boaters, “This is Captain Parker speaking. Go ahead.”
“This is Majestic. We set out from Somerset Harbor a few hours ago. Our position is 39.89 degrees
north, 69.62 degrees west. We are a 52-foot convertible, green and yellow hull with four adults on
board, no children, and our engine is down completely. She overheated, and there’s smoke. No
visible cause for overheating.”
“Have you called the Coast Guard?”
“Yes, but they’re going to take hours. The power is down so the air conditioning in the cabins is out,
and two of us are too elderly to take this heat while we wait for a tow.”
Dillon shrugs at me, then nods and puts whatever he was cooking away.
“Be there in twenty, Majestic.” I rouse the crew into positions and set sail for the coordinates, turning
us around. I don’t mind helping other boaters—in fact, I enjoy helping them. The only thorn is my
crew deserves their break, and this is throwing us all off. But if they have complaints about rerouting,
they don’t voice them.
Hal is the newest member of my crew, having been with us almost a year now. But Dillon’s been on
for three years, and Ewan on for five, and the four of us work like a mostly well-oiled machine when
we need to. Because of this, we make it to Majestic in seventeen minutes.
Sure enough, two red-faced elderly folks and a pair of middle agers come aboard, gushing gratitude
like there’s no tomorrow. “…thank you so much. I’m Debra. You spoke to my husband, Mike.”
I turn to her fellow middle ager. “Nice to meet you, Mike. I’m—
“No, him,” she gestures to the far older man.
“Oh. My apologies. Well, nice to meet you, Mike. I’m Captain Parker, and I’m glad to have you four
aboard. You arranged the tow with the Coast Guard?”
He nods and smiles. “It’s handled.”
“Dillon, can you take them below deck and get them some water and snacks, whatever they need?”
“Sure thing, Cap. Follow me.”
Three of them do, but Debra stays behind. As soon as they’re down below, she says, “Don’t feel bad.
Everyone makes that mistake.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Oh, I know,” she says kindly. “Mike’s son, Jerold, is used to being mistaken for my husband,
thankfully. We always have a good laugh about it after.”
“And the other woman with you?”
“That’s Mike’s sister, Pamela.”
“Got it. I guess you never really know until you stick your foot in your mouth.”
She laughs. “You should see it when the whole family is together. Mike and I have a teenaged
daughter who everyone thinks is his granddaughter, and Jerold’s actual wife is ten years older than
him. Trust me, you’ve never seen so many confused glances when we’re all together.”
“Seems like you have a sense of humor about it.”
“I knew it would be an interesting path to take the first night we went out, and the waiter assumed I
was with my father.”
I wince. “And Mike? How did he take it?”
She grins. “He told the kid not to assume, then tipped him twice the bill, so he’d remember. Part of me
fell in love with him a little right then, because he was so kind and generous to a man who had
insulted him. But that’s just who Mike is. We will have been married twenty years in August.”
“Congratulations. Sounds like you two are a perfect match.”
“You’re so easy to talk to, Captain Parker. Thanks for listening. And for not over-correcting when you
assumed wrong. Most people fumble after that, and that’s when it embarrasses Mike.”
I shrug. “I enjoy talking to people, and there’s no reason to make an honest mistake awkward.”
“You should come with us to the Children’s Home Society benefit on Sunday at the Somerset Yacht
Club. As our guest. Our treat, as a thank you.”
It’s funny to get an invitation to your own family’s event. My great-grandfather opened the club, and
over three generations, we’ve grown the business to include the yacht chartering, regional
development, and other projects. I’m lucky enough to do my own thing and leave the club and the
family business to my brothers.
The events are always full of self-important people, dying to be seen doing something charitable. It’s
great that the money goes to a good cause. But the social aspect makes me cringe.
“Thank you for the offer, but I have plans on Sunday night.” A white lie. “And I’m just glad I was
close enough to help. You know, you’re looking a little flushed yourself. How about you head down
below and cool off?” She is a perfectly pleasant woman, but I suspect she could talk forever.
She takes a breath. “It was harrowing, being worried about being stuck out on the water like this. I
suppose I will. Thanks again, Captain.” She leaves for her group, and once again, I have my quiet.
Until Hal pops by. “Hey, Cap, so we’re not going to Bermuda after this, are we?”
I sigh. “Well, it’s a few hours back to Somerset Harbor, so we can still make it out today.”
But he frowns.
“Why the long face?”
He slyly glances around for the other guys, then confesses, “Don’t tell Ewan and Dillon, but I was
sort of hoping not to go out to Bermuda this weekend.”
“I thought you were up for it.”
“Not really. But Ewan has been going on about how much he needs the break, and you and Dillon are
always looking for a good time, so I didn’t want to be the one to spoil everything.”
“Hal, is everything okay?”
“It’s my son’s birthday on Sunday.”
My mouth drops open. “Why did you even agree to go?”
“He’s only two. He won’t remember who was at his birthday party when he was two, and I don’t
want to let you guys down. Ever.”
“Man, you aren’t letting us down by having a family.”
But he looks at me in the oddest way. “I…I wasn’t sure if you’d get it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not exactly a family man, Captain. No offense intended—some people just aren’t that way.
But I try to be. Even though I’m not with his mom anymore, I try to be there for Elio whenever I can.
So, when this trip came up—
“You weren’t sure what to do.”
He nods. “I guess I should have said something sooner.”
“For future reference, Hal, I don’t have a problem with anyone doing stuff with their family. Just
because I’m not the closest with my own doesn’t mean other people shouldn’t be.”
His shoulders drop a half inch as he takes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Next time something comes up, I’ll
tell you.”
“Thanks, man. And…I’m trying to be closer to my family. So, if you have any tips or whatever, I’d
appreciate them.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I had a good talk with Rowan, and he gave me some insight into our other brothers. About how
they don’t actually hate me—it’s just that we have almost nothing in common. I won’t bore you with
the details, but I am trying to be a little better at the whole family thing.”
Hal gives me a big, toothy grin. “You can bore me with the details anytime you want. I am happy to
help you figure out family stuff.”
“Thanks. But for now, let’s get these nice people back to the harbor and get you back home for your
kid’s birthday.”
“Thanks again, Captain.”
“Anytime.” It wasn’t long before Dillon popped up from below deck to disturb my peace. “Everyone
alright down there?”
“Oh, they’re doing great. Give old people vanilla ice cream, and they’re like little kids again.” He
shoots furtive looks around the deck, ensuring no one else is around. “We are heading back to
Bermuda after this, right?”
Hal was right about Dillon. He likes to party, so I don’t want to disappoint him. “Hal needs to stay in
Somerset for his kid’s birthday on Sunday. I know a few deckhands who might sub in for him on short
notice—
“Eager to see the hot bartender after the whole Jocelyn debacle?”
I chuckle. “Actually, no.”
“Then, would it really be so bad if we don’t go to Bermuda this weekend?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends this week, and I’m kinda worn out.”
I frown at him. I’ve never heard him say anything like that. “Who is she?”
“Hmm?”
“Who?”
He smiles to himself. “Just a friend.”
I laugh. “Liar!”
“I don’t know. It could be nothing. Or she could be everything. Time will tell. But not if I spend this
weekend in Bermuda. Do you know how long a three-day weekend is in hot girl time? There’s the
potential for five dates on a three-day weekend, which means, in dating time, that’s almost five
weeks.”
“Understood.”
“Plus, it’s too soon to ditch for that long just for fun. For work, I can do whatever you need. But for
my leisure time, I hope you understand when I say that I love you guys, but I’d rather get laid.”
Clapping his shoulder, I tell him, “No worries, Dillon. Either I can find two deckhands to sub in, or
we’ll just say it wasn’t meant to be. I just feel bad for Ewan. I think he was looking forward to this
the most.”
Worry lines Dillon’s face. “If you think we should do this for Ewan, then I’m in.”
“He’ll be fine—
“Whatever Ewan needs, we can make it happen.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if he takes the news badly.” After Dillon leaves, a long shadow creeps up from
behind. “Hey, Ewan.”
“You always know when I’m there. How do you do that?”
“You never watch your shadows, man.”
“Ah,” he says, scratching his head. “So, about Bermuda…”
“What about it?”
“I was thinking, after we get Majestic’s crew back on land that I might stay put, too.”
“But the Bermuda bartender.”
He shrugs his massive shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind a little time off the boat before regatta training
really kicks in. But if you, Hal, and Dillon want to go, don’t tell them I mentioned it.”
I shake my head. “Of the three of you, none of you really wanted to go this weekend.”
“Huh?”
Explaining what the others told me, we have a good laugh about it all. “I guess this trip wasn’t meant
to be.”
“Careful, Captain,” he teases, “You sound like you’re beginning to believe in luck.”
I chuckle at the accusation. “No. It’s just a turn of phrase.”
But the look in Ewan’s eyes says he doesn’t believe me. “Sure, Cap. Whatever you say.”

-
 2

MAYA

S tretching out in my childhood bedroom, I’m a little surprised Mom didn’t change the furniture
and the curtains after I moved out. She loves to decorate and redecorate. Dad swears it’s just an
expensive hobby, but my therapist says it’s her way of exerting control over her life.
Whatever the reason, it makes her happy, and she’s not hurting anybody, so I don’t judge her for it.
Still, I would have thought she’d have made it into a gym or a sauna or something. Over the years,
she’s become completely obsessed with her looks. And I wouldn’t mind if she became a little into the
look of my room—it’d be a good excuse to change it all up.
I can't help but notice the familiar baby pink and white wallpaper, adorned with stripes and flowers.
The bedding matches the pattern perfectly, creating a sense of continuity and completeness. Above, a
chandelier hangs, its pink crystals shimmering in the light. As a child, I never paid much attention to
the room's decor, but now it's clear that I grew up in a space that felt like a hatbox.
Every inch of the room is covered in the same pattern, from the curtains to the rug, and even the
lampshade. The color scheme is overwhelmingly pink, with only a few touches of white to break up
the monotony. Looking back, it's hard to believe that I spent so much time in this room, surrounded by
the same design day in and day out.
Nevertheless, there's a certain charm to the room. The combination of pink and white, stripes and
flowers, creates a sense of whimsy and nostalgia that's hard to resist. It's a room that's frozen in time,
a relic of my childhood that's long since passed.
Thankfully, I have my third-floor balcony. Out here, I have a view of the pool and the flower garden,
and the forest beyond. Additionally, there’s the wrought-iron table and padded chairs on my balcony,
so I have a comfy spot for my morning French press. Or, in this case, afternoon French press.
I have really got to get onto a schedule.
Flicking through my texts, the message from Jade catches my eye. “Boat.”
I roll my eyes and give her a call. “Boat?”
“Yeah, I know you said you need a distraction from everything, and when we chartered the yacht the
other week, it took my mind off my break-up, so I was thinking it might be a pleasant distraction for
you, too. Plus, I know how much you love getting out on the water.”
“I wouldn’t mind a distraction right about now.” I huff and sip my coffee. “Mom set me up.”
“For a crime or on a date?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
She snorts a laugh. “In your case, it could be. Who is it with?”
“Carson Crowder, Sunday night. Some charity auction thing.”
“The lawyer? That friendly guy from New Hampshire?”
“Maine, and yes, that one.”
“Oh, he’s cute. Good for you.”
But I grunt. “You’re right. He’s cute, and well-dressed, educated, smart, and butterknife dull.”
“Could be worse.”
“Believe me, I know,” I tell her, trying not to sound upset.
“Right, sorry. Um, so the boat?”
Time on the water sounds much better than time with Carson. “Sure. When?”
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“I am now.”
“I’ll call and make the arrangements.”
“Thanks, Jade. It’ll be good to get out of the house without thinking about a guy.”
She giggles. “I know what you mean.”
We hang up, and my French press is empty. Sighing, I pick it up and scoot downstairs to the kitchen
for a refill. Mom has remodeled the kitchen three times in the past five years, so I do not know where
anything is anymore. But the stainless steel industrial look of the place is an interesting choice I never
saw her making.
I don’t want to bother the staff, so I try to sort through the kitchen for myself. Unfortunately, that means
I’m there for too long, which lets certain people notice my presence.
“Maya,” Mom says as she walks in, “you’re still in your bathrobe.” She’s in her new uniform—beige
and gray yoga loungewear. It‘s a pleasant change from her former uniform of velour tracksuits, or the
unfortunate silk blouses with the gold chain print on them. No idea how those became so popular in
her social set.
“So what if I’m in my bathrobe? No one is here.”
“It’s two in the afternoon. What will the staff say?”
“That I slept late. Do you know where the coffee is?”
She sighs and pulls it from a cabinet I thought was full of glasses. Passing the beans over, she says,
“You can’t dress like a bum if you’re going to stay with us, Maya.”
“This robe cost four-hundred dollars. What bum is wearing that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Coffee grinder?”
She simply gestures towards the cabinet below the one with the coffee. “New rule—if it’s after nine,
you come downstairs dressed for the day.”
“New rule—I’m twenty-five, so I can dress how I like.” I grind the beans for the press.
“You can’t—
I grind them again.
“It’s just that—
I press the button once more.
When she unplugs it, I frown. “I know you’re going through some things, Maya, but being rude and
being undressed are not acceptable, and you know it.”
I sigh, as much at her as myself. “Sorry, Mom. I’m…adjusting. Not quite sure what to do with my time
right now.”
She smiles. “Then it’s a good thing you have your date Sunday night.”
“I appreciate the work you put in to getting me a date, but Carson Crowder is a walking melba toast.”
“He is smart and handsome and he makes a good living. Carson has an impeccable reputation. You
could certainly do worse.”
“I have,” I tell her, earning a vaguely sympathetic expression. “If Carson is so great, then why is he
single?”
She sighs. “It’s not his fault that his former girlfriend’s standards are atrocious.”
“What’s that mean?”
“From what Carson’s mother told me, his ex-girlfriend believes she is too pretty to be with someone
who is merely wealthy and handsome. She thinks she should be a reality tv star, and he’s not
interesting enough to be one as well. Can you imagine aspiring to such nonsense? What is the world
coming to?”
The thought of being on television is horrid. Who wants that kind of scrutiny? Plus, then people know
who your friends are, what you like, where you go…it’s practically fodder for any criminal. Starting
the electric kettle, I mumble, “No, I really can’t.”
“So, see? It’s not his fault that he’s single.”
“I’ll give you that. But it doesn’t make him interesting, either.”
“Lots of men are interesting, Maya. That doesn’t mean they’re good people.”
“And even the good ones can be terrible people behind closed doors,” I say with a shrug, “but I’d
rather start with a guy who interests me.”
She sighs loudly at me. Her version of nagging. “Can you do this to appease your dear old mother? I’d
like to see you settled before I’m in my grave.”
I snort a laugh. “Oh, please. You’re going to outlive us all. Especially with your new vegan diet and
yoga regimen.”
“Never too soon to start all of that, you know,” she says pointedly.
“I’ll stick with too much coffee and the occasional burger, but thanks, Mom.”
“Oh, to be twenty-five again, thinking the scourge of aging won’t touch you.” She lets loose an
exaggerated breath. “I was thinking, you have an open weekend, so why don’t I give John Bridgers’
mom a call so you can have a date Saturday night, too.”
“I have plans tomorrow.” I pour the boiling water into the French press.
“With a man?” she asks hopefully.
“Me and the girls are going to charter a yacht again.”
“Will there be guys joining you?”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “Just me and the girls.”
Another accusatory sigh. “If all you do is hang out with your girlfriends, then how are you ever going
to get married?”
I smile. “Or I could just marry one of my girlfriends. I bet your friends at the club would love that.”
“I don’t care who you marry, so long as you’re engaged by Christmas.”
My plan to freak her out failed, which annoyed me. “Why engaged by Christmas?”
“I want something to tell the Rodericks when we see them in Aspen for the holiday. They’re always
bragging about their children—
“I imagine that’s easier to do when you have eight of them.”
“That is far too many children to manage. Can you imagine?” She shakes her head. “I guess I should
have had more kids to have more to brag on, but it was not in the cards for me.”
Given that me and my brothers were late-in-life babies, I ask, “Fertility troubles?”
“No,” she says firmly, “the pain. I don’t care what anyone tells you, Maya, you’ll aways remember
the pain.”
“Says the woman who wants me to shoot out some grandkids to impress her friends?” I press the
coffee. As the grounds separate from the coffee, Mom’s eyes focus there. “Want some?”
“Oh, I don’t drink it anymore. Not good for the skin. Speaking of which, make sure you wear a wide-
brimmed hat and plenty of sunblock tomorrow. Can’t have you all freckled or sunburnt for your date.”
“Sure, Mom,” I say, walking back to my room. “While we’re at it, why don’t you lock me in there
until my date? That way, I can’t have any fun before seeing Carson, which will make him seem all the
more interesting.”
“If I thought you wouldn’t sneak out from your balcony, I might have tried it.”

-
 3

PARKER

P ulling into Somerset Harbor always feels like leaving home, rather than coming back to one. The
ocean has always felt like home compared to life on land. The sun is setting, so my family’s
yacht club practically glows like a beacon settled behind the docks and other sailing yachts. To
my surprise, though, there are quite a few more people there than usual.
Like a lot.
Oh, right. The distress call. I sigh and smile, hoping it’s not that big of a deal. But the last time I
answered a distress call, it was like this, too. People waiting to check on their loved ones who were
stuck at sea, others who want to see what all the commotion is about, and still others who are simply
nosy.
“Isn’t that Sawyer out there?” Ewan asks.
Shit. “Uh, yes. That’s him.”
“I wouldnae have expected him to be out there for this. This is not the first time a distress call was
answered.”
“No, it is not. And Sawyer only comes out of his cave for important things, so this can’t be good.”
Running through my mind, I flip through birthdays, anniversaries, anything I might have missed for the
family. Not that they expect me to come around for every little thing, but I try to be around for
Rowan’s kid’s birthdays and our parent’s anniversary, or other big family events. What did I forget?
We dock and tie off, helping our wayward passengers back to land, where a teenager and another
older woman stand, looking stricken. Debra tells the teen girl, “We’re fine, thanks to Captain Parker
and his wonderful crew. They saved us.”
“Saved is a pretty strong word,” I tell them. “I’m sure Mike would have been resourceful enough to
get you to safety. We just got there first. No big deal.”
But Mike’s large hand thrusts out. “No, son, you saved us. Thank you.”
I shake his hand. “I’m just glad we could help.”
After saying our goodbyes, Sawyer comes with a look in his tired eyes that says I’m in trouble. I’ve
grown accustomed to that look, but it’s never comfortable to feel like your eldest brother disapproves
of you, and it doesn’t help that of the four of us, he looks the most like our dad. “Saved another one,
huh? Told you that you should have gone into the Coast Guard. You’re always in the right place at the
right time.”
“Don’t like other people telling me what to do. I’d be terrible in the military.”
“That’s true. So, where were you sneaking off to this time?”
“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere.”
“Bermuda?”
I don’t like his tone. “There’s nothing wrong with giving my crew a break before the regatta.”
He sighs, but it’s so exaggerated that it sounds like a hiss. “Were you planning to be back for Sunday
supper before the auction or what, Parker?”
“This is why they tell you not to leave for a trip on Fridays.”
He frowns. “Huh?”
“A trip started on a Friday is cursed, or so they say.”
“Sure, whatever. Are you going to be there?”
“What’s so special about this one?”
He runs his fingers through his walnut brown hair. “Oh, I don’t know. Your family will be there. But I
guess that’s not special enough for you.”
“Geez, Sawyer. Laying on the guilt trip a little thick, aren’t you?”
“Sorry,” he grumbles. “Not getting much sleep these days. Plus, I hate being the one to tell Mom
you’re not coming. I’d like to see you there, but if you will not make it, at least be the one to tell her,
okay?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there.”
“You sure? Because the last time you told me that, I didn’t hear from you until you reached Santo
Domingo.”
“What can I say? I like the DR.”
He gives me the serious face. I hate the serious face.
“I will be there, Sawyer. Promise.”
“Alright,” he relents. “Good job, saving the Majestic.”
“Thanks. I’m just glad we were close enough to help. I hate to think of what might have happened
otherwise.”
He nods, then heads back into the club as most of the crowd disburses. Waving off Ewan, Hal, and
Dillon, I dodge the more curious of the crowd to get to my car in the parking lot out front. It’s easier
to avoid people by going around the outside of the club—socialites don’t like to get their fifteen
hundred dollar shoes dirty, and the east edge of the building has tightly manicured grass and tall red
oaks with no path between them. Ducking branches, I make my way to the parking lot and hop into my
dusty old orange jeep.
The drive into downtown Somerset makes me nostalgic in the oddest way. Not for my childhood, but
for ways I wished my childhood to have gone.
Growing up on my family's estate at the edge of Somerset Harbor didn't do wonders for my social
skills. I couldn't walk to school like my friends, and it was difficult to see them at all. That's why, as
an adult I moved into a small apartment above my charter sailing business. It's not much - my mother
called it 'appalling' - but it's home, and I love it. I can walk wherever I need to go and be around other
people. I have a workshop in the back alley for storage and parking my jeep.
I take great pride in maintaining a clean and organized apartment - it's a reflection of the way I run my
charter yacht business. As a child, I couldn't stand the sight of a messy room, and as an adult, I have
an even greater aversion to clutter. That's why I make sure everything has its place, from the furniture
to the rare souvenirs I've collected over the years.
Most of my travels have taken me to the Caribbean, with the exception of two unforgettable trips to
Rio de Janeiro for Carnival. As a result, my souvenirs tend to have a tropical vibe - a whimsical
alligator hula dancer, intricately patterned pottery, bottles of pure vanilla essence, a variety of rum
flavors, and bags of locally sourced coffee.
But as much as I enjoy collecting these mementos, I prefer them to be edible - that way, I don't have to
worry about an overstuffed apartment. Plus, there's something special about savoring a taste of a far-
off place, whether it's a rich cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee or a shot of spiced rum from St.
Lucia.
Tossing my keys into a bowl from Barbados, I stroll into my place and kick the air conditioning on. I
order tacos on my phone and turn on some West Coast zydeco I recently downloaded. Thankfully, the
Mexican place four doors down from the butcher knows me, so they arrive in fifteen minutes flat. The
tacos are fresh and the perfect meal to eat over the sink before a hot shower.
If there is one thing I miss when I’m on open water, it’s a long shower. Conserving fresh water is
always on my mind when I’m at sea so I rarely allow myself more than a few minutes to scrub down.
At home, I tend to luxuriate under the scalding high-pressure stream, and because my apartment is on
the industrial side of things, the hot water heater never runs out. It’s almost the best part about being
on land.
It’s early Friday night, but premature bedtimes have become a favorite over the years. Most folks who
charter boats want to hit the water early—particularly the fishers. So, by eight, I’m tucked away,
scrolling on my phone until my eyes get heavy. It’s then that I get the message from Ewan, “Group of
girls want to take a charter out tomorrow for a sail at ten. No fishing, I checked. You in?”
“How old are the girls?”
“Twenties, from the sound of it.”
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