Page 3 of Midnight Mooring

Note: My mother did not demand to know which ferry I was arriving on. Surprise, surprise.

Still, I warmed at the thought of seeing my big brother after six months.

I’d called him two nights ago from Copenhagen to tell him I was coming home, and that’s when he delivered the news that he was going to be a dad again. After so many years apart, he and the love of his life, Taran, were going to be parents together. I would be Aunt Cammie for the third time. Well, technically fourth, because while she might not be blood, I counted Tierney and Ramsay’s baby girl, Maura, as one of my nieces too.

Emotion tightened my throat as dread made my gut roil. First, I had to put my suspicions to bed before I could enjoy my return to life with my family and friends. Before I could settle down and begin my own life on my terms.

There was no sign of Quinn yet as the ferry glided up against the dock. My fingers fumbled as I tried to hoist my huge backpack when a large hand reached for the strap. A hint of tattoo flashed beneath the cuff of his jacket sleeve. My head jerked up, and I looked into the arresting aquamarine eyes of the rugged stranger I’d smiled at earlier.

“Let me,” he said in a deep voice.

Once upon a time I hadn’t been one to shy away from male attention, but lately I was afraid of my own instincts. Still, I was home and there was little a stranger could do to me out in the open. I gave him a friendly half smile and let go of the backpack. “By all means.”

He had a flirtatious gleam in his eyes as he picked up the backpack for me. His dark hair was styled off his forehead and cut short. Unlike most men I went for, he kept a clean-shaven face, but it suited him because his features were already so blunt and masculine. The man wasn’t exactly classically handsome, but there was something magnetic about him. Especially those eyes, the color of the shore of Mornish Beach on the west coast of Glenvulin. A tourist might mistake themselves for having landed somewhere in the Maldives, the sand was so white and the water a startling blue-green.

My body was interested in Aquamarine Eyes even if my mind was wary.

He raised an eyebrow at the weight of my backpack. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“I’m from Leth Sholas. I’ve been traveling for six months.”

He walked across the deck with my luggage, and I hurried to follow. “By yourself?”

“Aye. What of it?”

“Nah, it’s impressive.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze dipping down my body and back up again. My rain jacket hid my shape, but that didn’t seem to stop his flirtatious tone. “I did wonder how I could have missed someone like you.”

“You live here?”

“Scaris,” he replied, referring to another island in the Hebrides. “But I’ve been visiting Leth Sholas more and more lately.”

Intrigued despite myself, because I was naturally a nosy bugger, I followed him down the gangplank onto the dock. I breathed deeply, and a rightness settled over my shoulders. The salty sea air, the hint of the fish and chips shop across the way, and the very slight scent of hot malt from the whisky distillery down the road were familiar hits to my olfactory senses. A rush of nostalgia and home cut through the dread that had clung to me for a week. I felt like I’d been gone forever.

“Cammie!”

I jerked toward the sound of my name, relief flooding through me when I saw my brother waving from the main road. I beamed. But then my smile faltered as Forde Dallas appeared at Quinn’s side.

What the hell was he doing here?

The rugged stranger, still carrying my huge backpack easily on one shoulder, asked, “You know Quinn and Forde?”

“Quinn’s my brother.”

“You’re Cameron?”

“Aye. Who are⁠—”

“Cammie.” Quinn had pushed his way past the people in front of us and was suddenly there, pulling me into his arms. “Fuck, I thought you were never coming home,” he stated gruffly against my temple as he held me close.

There was nowhere safer than in my big brother’s arms. Our dad had left us when I was too young to remember much about him, so for the longest time, Quinn had been my protector. Even when our stepfather Greg came into the picture, he was nice enough, but he wasn’t that interested in me. Quinn was brother and father figure all rolled into one.

Not that I’d ever tell him that.

I didn’t need my brother to look after me.

Though it was certainly nice to be loved.

I retreated, grinning as I searched Quinn’s familiar face. We shared the same blue eyes and the same nose shape, which suited his face better than mine, but otherwise we didn’t look that much alike. He was dark and tanned; I was blond and fair.