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Love, Unexpected
Virginia McCullough
Moving to a new place isn’t easy…Until a neglected ship—and its owner—make her feel at homeAfter spying a boat in need of some TLC, single mom Andi Sterling strikes a deal with its owner, Zeke Donovan, who shares her passion for restoring old things. Uncovering the legendary ship’s secrets draws them closer. Is it too soon for Andi to open her heart to the chance to build new dreams?
Moving to a new place isn’t easy...
Until a neglected ship and its owner make her feel at home
After spying a boat in need of some TLC, single mom Andi Sterling strikes a deal with its owner, Zeke Donovan, who shares her passion for restoring old things. Uncovering the legendary ship’s secrets draws them closer. Is it too soon for Andi to open her heart to the chance to build new dreams?
After a childhood spent on Chicago’s sandy beaches, VIRGINIA McCULLOUGH moved to a rocky island in Maine, where she began writing magazine articles. She soon turned to coauthoring and ghostwriting nonfiction books, and eventually began listening to the fictional characters whispering in her ear. Today, when not writing stories, Virginia likes to wander the world.
To contact the author, please visit virginiamccullough.com (http://www.virginiamccullough.com), or find her on Twitter, @vemccullough (https://twitter.com/vemccullough), and Facebook, Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7 (http://www.Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7).
Also By Virginia McCullough (#u3e785a17-5d53-5827-b5f2-6a7a86340a67)
Girl in the Spotlight
Something to Treasure
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Love, Unexpected
Virginia McCullough
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08498-7
LOVE, UNEXPECTED
© 2018 Virginia McCullough
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Sitting across from him, Andi held her water bottle out to propose a toast.
“To Drifting Dreamer,” she said, tapping her bottle against Zeke’s. “I can’t stop thinking about what I may uncover about her next.”
Zeke threw his head back. “Oh, no. Now every day I’ll wonder if something new has turned up.”
“I’ll keep you guessing, section by section,” she said, cocking her head. “It’s tempting to start taking apart every inch of the boat. No telling what we’d find under the bunks.”
“But maybe it’s better to keep the suspense going,” he said, surprising himself.
Her expression changed. “Funny, isn’t it? A boat named Drifting Dreamer simply showed up here one day without fanfare or even much preparation.”
“So did you,” Zeke teased, his voice low and right on the edge of flirtatious.
Dear Reader (#u3e785a17-5d53-5827-b5f2-6a7a86340a67),
Welcome back to Two Moon Bay, a small town on Wisconsin’s Lake Michigan shore. In the third book in the series, several characters from Girl in the Spotlight and Something to Treasure are back and two have a story of their own. Love, Unexpected proves romance can tap us on the shoulder, even if we’ve closed our hearts to love.
Andi and Zeke find they share a passion for restoration and strike a deal to make the boat Drifting Dreamer beautiful again. Curious about the dreams behind the ship’s name, the two search for answers while they bring the vessel back to life. As they discover what can—and can’t—be restored, they confide their secrets and maybe even spin new dreams.
I hope you enjoy Andi and Zeke’s special summer in Love, Unexpected. You can visit me and add your name to my mailing list at virginiamccullough.com (http://www.virginiamccullough.com). Find me on Twitter, @vemccullough (https://twitter.com/vemccullough), and Facebook, Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7 (http://www.Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7).
To one more happy ending,
Virginia McCullough
For my two grown children, Laura & Adam—
to paraphrase Rat in The Wind in the Willows,
they’ve had some experience
“messing about in boats.”
Contents
Cover (#uc9e1d26b-3f0e-568f-9d16-0f368608462d)
Back Cover Text (#u321bc631-e2ac-5440-b397-9173bf563ee3)
About the Author (#u9226b344-39b1-5a8c-970b-f6b23c482c1d)
Booklist (#uf64127c5-6e8c-5220-ba70-e5a3ce78dc12)
Title Page (#u655e8a7a-3726-5223-b5c0-0420d9ffe01f)
Copyright (#u2b02df46-1fac-5180-85e9-9d3f96d6c807)
Introduction (#uc7929d9d-0667-55ee-ad28-8ce485bed158)
Dear Reader (#u4c66a2fd-4e7a-58ea-932d-6ef1d28069e0)
Dedication (#u32813236-f0a4-5773-9006-8b75fe59e057)
CHAPTER ONE (#u51eddc66-8772-5358-bc21-cd8b6ce89333)
CHAPTER TWO (#u63132ec5-9058-5587-bfc2-bb0b2391cae0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u2c6d711e-feef-55a9-a1ce-a948c6b84d33)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u3e785a17-5d53-5827-b5f2-6a7a86340a67)
ZEKE DONOVAN DIDN’T like his choices. He could simmer inside, or maybe stomp around the dock. Or he could let loose and holler at somebody. But as frustrated as he was, he knew perfectly well he wouldn’t do any of those things. He wasn’t the simmering, stomping, hollering type. Especially not when it came to his dad.
Planting a hand on his hip, Zeke filled his lungs and let the air out in a long sigh. On the few occasions in the last few years he’d been angry at his dad over mistakes or mix-ups, Zeke always ended up feeling guilty. Besides, anger didn’t solve anything. Today, like other days, he’d just have to figure out a way to clean up the mess Dad left behind.
Mess was a good word for the ancient motor yacht gently rocking at their Donovan Marine Supply dock in Two Moon Bay. By any standards, the boat was fifty feet of peeling varnish, not to mention the cracks in the wooden cabin house and rails. The sooner Zeke could find a way to get the eyesore off his hands—and off his dock—the better.
Early that morning, before they’d even flipped their sign from Closed to Open, Zeke learned Drifting Dreamer would be delivered to their dock in Two Moon Bay that day. Like a switch had flipped on inside his head, Dad suddenly remembered he’d inherited a yacht. The memory surfaced after a call from a lawyer’s office downstate in Kenosha confirmed the boat would arrive by noon. How this derelict motor yacht ended up settling a twenty-year-old debt was a question still waiting for an answer.
Zeke glanced at his dad and then studied the papers he held. “The original letter is dated in March, Dad.” He pointed to a date in the body of the letter. “There it is, right there at the end, the estimated delivery date in June. Today.”
Frowning, Art Donovan said, “I meant to tell you about that letter from the law firm. But I must have stuck it in the drawer in my nightstand.”
Out of sight, out of mind, Zeke thought. This shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. His dad often forgot day-to-day events, but typically remembered details of his dealings with a customer from years ago. Unfortunately, stashing the March letter in a drawer in his room was like him, too. Zeke worked with his dad every day, but at no time in these last few months had the letter from the law firm surfaced.
The letter was addressed to his dad, Arthur Donovan. The facts confirmed that a man named Terrance Smyth had died and bequeathed this very old, but classic yacht to his dad to settle that debt. Zeke slapped the sheaf of legal documents against his thigh. “Do you remember the guy who stiffed you, Dad?”
“You bet I remember him.” Art flapped his hand toward the boat. “I spent a couple of months trying to track him down to pay for the hardware I sold him to outfit his boat—about two grand worth of top-of-the-line stainless steel. I almost found him, but he disappeared again. I finally gave up. Wrote it off as a bad debt and moved on.”
Art shook his head and jabbed his finger in the air toward the run-down boat. “But it wasn’t this boat he was outfitting, not Drifting Dreamer. What I sold him was hardware for his fiberglass sailboat.”
None of that really mattered. “We might as well have a closer look.” Zeke stepped from the dock to the deck of Drifting Dreamer. He bounced a few times to test its strength before glancing over his shoulder and nodding to his dad. “Come on aboard. Seems sturdy enough to support us. At least it’s teak and probably cleans up pretty easily. The deck might be newer than everything else topside.”
From the aft deck, Zeke quickly scanned the boat from bow to stern. “Since you own this baby, such as she is, free and clear, we might as well see what we can salvage. Or...”
“Or what?” Art asked.
“Beats me.” Zeke grinned at his dad, his mood softening enough to bring back his sense of humor.
For the next few minutes, Zeke pushed away worrying thoughts of his dad’s odd memory lapses. Were they really happening more frequently, or did it only seem that way sometimes? Like now, when a fifty-foot boat showed up unannounced. The one bright spot was that unlike some of his dad’s other mistakes, this one wouldn’t hurt their marine supply business, except in lost time spent ridding themselves of the run-down yacht. But still, how could anyone, even a forgetful person like his dad, let an unexpected inheritance this substantial slip his mind?
Thinking back twenty years, Zeke had been away at college and had no memory of this bad debt. Dad obviously had handled it by himself, as he had everything connected with the family business.
“Hey, Zeke,” Art called from the wheelhouse, “Drifting Dreamer must have been a beauty in her day. Not everything’s old, either. She’s got electronics they didn’t make back in 1939.”
“I can see that,” Zeke said honestly, looking at the spec sheet. Even the diesel engine was only six years old and showed its good condition with a healthy hum when the two guys hired to deliver Drifting Dreamer had maneuvered between the pilings on the dock. Newer equipment aside, on closer inspection, the overall condition of the boat was every bit as sad as it appeared at first glance. The remaining traces of varnish on the mahogany trim and wheelhouse were only reminders of the yacht’s better days. Zeke grimaced at the sight of blackening wood and cracked joints and seams.
“All the hardware is bronze,” Zeke called, trying to insert a positive note. “That’s worth something.” If they scrapped the boat parts, they’d recoup the original two thousand dollars—with interest. Zeke gently kicked the toe of his shoe against the row of wooden bins under the rail of the aft deck. They rarely saw that high-quality mahogany anymore, except on the luxury custom boats very few people could afford.
When Zeke went into the main cabin, his dad was peering inside the oven of the newish stove, another item on the spec sheet that puzzled Zeke. Someone had a plan to bring back Drifting Dreamer. But who? Zeke shook off the question. It intrigued him, like a mystery, but it didn’t matter. He and his dad needed a new plan. Now.
To start, Zeke supposed they could ask Nelson White, their old friend who owned the marina and boatyard next door, to haul the boat out of the water, so they could begin salvaging whatever was valuable and get rid of the rest. But then he muttered, “A little sweat and sandpaper could help. To get her ready to sell, I mean. Maybe there’s life in the boat yet. We don’t need to junk her.”
His dad grinned and cupped his ear, acknowledging the groan of the pump that ran for a few seconds before coming to a halt with a clunk. “The bilge pump works.”
“See? Another selling point. Besides, we know for sure she’s seaworthy enough to make the trip from Kenosha.”
According to the paperwork, the nearly eighty-year-old yacht had been built in Duluth, Minnesota, and launched in 1939. It was a Bergstrom 50, a legendary design. That alone made her a classic, Zeke thought. From the attorney’s letter, Zeke learned Smyth bought the boat four years before he died. It had been sitting under a tarp in a boatyard, the victim of years of neglect.
He’d added a note in his will about it being better late than never to make restitution.
“Man, oh, man, you don’t have this much storage in your house,” Art called from the forward cabin.
“That big, huh?” Zeke was amused by his dad’s remark, even knowing it was his responsibility to resolve this result of a twenty-year-old problem. As a kid, he and his dad had been referred to as Art and his boy, Zeke. Even when he’d been almost thirty years old he was still Art’s boy. But over these last years, the situation reversed. Now people around town called them Zeke and his dad, Art. The shift was subtle at first, and really shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, mainly because Art had changed over the years, and Zeke had all but forced his dad to leave the apartment over their store and move into his house down the street.
“Must have cost a small fortune,” Art said as he came out of the cabin. “But there’s a lot of pride in this old yacht.”
