Christmas Over the Bar Read online

  Christmas Over the Bar

  a US Coast Guard romance

  M. L. Buchman

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  About This Story

  US Coast Guard Rescue Pilot Sly Beaumont lives to fly. Saving lives off the treacherous Columbia River Bar rates as a really cool bonus. As are the fine ladies who flock to the uniform.

  Petty Officer Hailey Franklin may be new to the USCG cutter Steadfast, but she’s a second-generation Coastie and knows all the guy’s lines.

  But when a storm-tossed Christmas rescue throws them together, neither one is ready for the lightning that strikes.

  1

  “This is insane!” Hailey Franklin shouted at the storm.

  “When you’re right, you’re right.” Vera replied from the passenger seat.

  Hailey had met Vera Chu at the Portland, Oregon airport car rental counter. They’d gotten to know each other driving through the torrential December rain as they forged west to meet their new billet. Spending two hours together, squinting ahead into the darkness through the thick rivers that the windshield wipers on high couldn’t clear, created a special kind of bond.

  Their US Coast Guard cutter was berthed in Astoria, Oregon at the mouth of the Columbia River, which divided Oregon and Washington. And apparently it was crewed by fish who could live underwater.

  “Perhaps there’s a reason there are no scheduled flights to Astoria. Only a crazy pilot would fly on a night like this.”

  “You aren’t the one driving,” Hailey protested, not that she’d given Vera the chance. When she was in any car, she drove. Ever since her brother had tried to drive under a tractor trailer full of lobster pots and sheared the top off the family car—with her in it—she’d insisted. She’d managed to pull him down in time, so it was just instant convertible rather than instant death…but still!

  “I expect this is pretty in daylight.” Vera had spent the drive announcing views that her phone map revealed but the pitch black storm hid.

  All Hailey had seen for the last two hours was slashing rain on the twisty two-lane Highway 30. Half the time blinded by oncoming headlights and half with her own headlights reflecting off the walls of water that the Pacific storm was throwing at them.

  By the time they reached town, her arms were sore from fighting the wind as it slapped their tiny Mitsubishi Mirage about like a hockey puck.

  They’d determined three things during the drive.

  Vera, the tall Chinese girl from Detroit, was the classy one. Not that Hailey cared. She was fine with being the short black chick from the farthest butthole of Maine. Why wouldn’t she be?

  They were both USCG born and bred, on both sides of the family, and were both carrying on the legacy by having just re-upped for their second five-year tour.

  And third, the chances were good they’d be spending this next tour together. They’d both drawn slots on the USCG cutter Steadfast.

  She figured that was good grounds for being best buds. Vera had reached the same conclusion even if she was, like, so slender and forever-tall. Though watching her fold into the Mirage economy rental had been pretty funny.

  “You’re aware that our ship is based from here,” Vera asked as they arrived at the town limits sign.

  “Shit! I thought we were just going for a scenic drive to a total nowhere town for the hell of it.” Not even Astoria was as remote as where she’d been born. There wasn’t a whole lot of America that existed east of Jonesport, Maine—the five hundred residents of Cutler and the Quoddy Head Lighthouse were about it. Maw and Paw had spent twenty years riding the buoy tenders along the coast and into the North Atlantic out of the USCG Jonesport Station.

  “I’m simply curious regarding this place where we’ll be based for a while.”

  “Won’t see much of it. We’ll be out on a cutter.”

  “This isn’t the Navy.”

  Vera had a point. The cutter would mainly work the Washington and Oregon coasts, voyaging farther to sea only for search and rescue.

  “Okay, let’s see what we’ve gotten ourselves into.” Vera had been navigator, not that there’d been any real questions. Out of the airport they’d had to make a grand total of one turn to pick up Highway 30.

  There was a long silence. Long enough that the town lights were coming up.

  “Um… As far as I can tell, the town is essentially one street wide and mostly in a two-mile stretch.”

  “Party town, whoo-hoo!”

  “It means that the men are going to be small-minded provincials. Slim opportunities.”

  “Urban snob,” Hailey teased her for her Detroit upbringing.

  “Small-minded provincial,” Vera teased her right back.

  “Hey, just because I know how to haul a lobster pot and you don’t, doesn’t mean—”

  “That’s a pretty building.”

  “Columbia River Maritime Museum,” Hailey read as they rolled by. “Could be fun.”

  “Oh!” they gasped in unison and Hailey immediately eased over to the shoulder of the road, stopping in a deep puddle.

  Just past the museum was the dock…their dock. A pair of two hundred-and-ten-foot, Reliance-class Coast Guard cutters bobbed there. Also, an old-style emergency lightship—the kind with a major masthead light that could be driven out to sea in case a lighthouse broke and couldn’t be serviced immediately. This one was a museum piece.

  “At least we know we’re in the right place,” Hailey had always liked the Reliance boats. They were the first of the post-WWII cutters. Built in the 1960s, they had a sleek, determined look that said they’d been the workhorse of the Coast Guard for half a century and were still up to the task.

  “We’re not due for a couple hours.”

  “Food!” They declared in unison.

  Yeah, spending the next five years hanging with Vera Chu could be a good thing.

  2

  “You lost, Sly.”

  “Suck on it, Ham.”

  That was four times in a row that Lieutenant Sylvester Beaumont had lost the draw. He knew that his copilot Hammond Marcus was somehow rigging the game, but he couldn’t tell how. This time it was their crew chief, Vivian who’d been holding up the chem lights, and still he’d drawn the red one.

  Maybe…

  He couldn’t quite tell whether or not to trust her smile as she restowed the chem lights in their helicopter’s emergency gear.

  “Don’t forget my horseradish this time, Lieutenant Beaumont,” Harvey, their rescue swimmer called out.

  “Blah. Blah. Blah.” Sly had forgotten it once, like three months ago. Maybe it was Harvey’s doing that he’d landed dinner-run duty four times running. The guy was quiet, but real sneaky. Yeah, perhaps it was him behind Sly’s losing streak.

  Harvey was sneaky in more than one way.

  “Wedding just two weeks away. Got any nerves, Harv?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Damn straight that better be your answer,” Vivian paused in the middle of checking over her gear, long enough to pull Harvey down into a kiss. It quickly became clear that she was making it extra steamy just to mess with him.

  “I’m outta here.”

  “About time,” Ham grumbled.

  Vivian’s and Harvey’s kiss broke up in laughter.

  Totally messing with him.

  He climbed into his pickup and headed into Astoria to get their dinner.

  He didn’t have a clue how Harvey had done it—and so damn fast. A total babe, Vivian h
ad arrived on base last December 23rd. They’d been dating by New Year’s Eve and engaged on Valentine’s Day. Getting married on Christmas Day.

  For himself, he had no real interest in slowing down yet, but he wouldn’t mind that kind of lightning bolt striking him either.

  And even though the Pacific Northwest wasn’t much given to lightning, this Christmas Eve storm looked all set to deliver.

  Wrong kind of lightning though.

  There had been a pair of locals that he and Ham had been making good progress with—on that long-ago Valentine’s Day. What with Harvey and Vivian getting engaged in their standard dive-bar hangout, it had set a definite romantic atmosphere for the evening—at least until Vivian had busted it up.

  She’d sat down with the two hot townies and done the worst thing imaginable, told them the truth.

  You girls want a good time, go for it. You want the long dream of escape from this town—because Astoria was the epitome of small town that most wanted to escape from—Sly and Ham aren’t your guys. The trick is, you’ve got to leave town yourself and go find what you’re looking for. Take it from a woman who figured that out the hard way.

  And the two girls had. By the end of the month they’d both moved to Portland.

  Vivian was a bad influence.

  Vivian had made him think, though Sly hadn’t mentioned a thing about it to Ham. Think a lot. (A really bad influence as that wasn’t his normal mode.) And not exactly comfortable thoughts. What did he want long-term? Other than flying his USCG helo. What kind of woman was he actually looking for?

  Damned if he knew.

  3

  “That’s a bright Christmas tree,” Hailey blinked. The thing was oncoming like major high beams.

  Vera was doing one of her phone things. “Twenty-eight-foot artificial tree with four thousand LEDs in seven colors.”

  “Could use the thing as a lighthouse—for passing spaceships.” Brake lights blanketed the road ahead of her. “What the hell? Who would traffic jam a one-road town on a stormy Saturday night?”

  “That would be the Santa Swim.”

  “Santa Swim?”

  “Bring your Santa hat and float in our Aquatic Center pool for our annual screening of Home Alone.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Then she thought about the blueberry costume parade for the Machias, Maine Wild Blueberry Festival. Maybe it wasn’t so odd. Small towns did have their own quirks.

  “There’s also a Tuba Christmas concert tonight.”

  Hailey weaved her way through the traffic snarl and made it out the other side. “If we didn’t have to report aboard, that would almost be worth it.”

  “There!”

  The car rental was on the main drag. And closed.

  They hoisted their sea bags (that they should have dropped off at the ship) and dumped the key through the slot.

  Just up the street, there were a number of cars parked close together, lit clearly by red and blue neon lights.

  They shared a shrug and trotted that way through the downpour.

  “Workers Tavern. Known for burgers and prime rib,” Vera somehow ran, avoided puddles, and read her phone.

  “Sounds spendy.”

  “It…” more phone thing even though the door was like twenty feet away “…isn’t.”

  As soon as they were through the door, Hailey saw why. The bar looked as if it had needed a major renovation—for at least the last fifty years. Someone had done some recent work on it, but not enough to make it look any better than a total dive.

  Perfect.

  “They appear to all be different currencies,” Vera was inspecting an entire wall covered in hundreds of low currency bills that had been stapled there. Hailey could hear her dripping onto the old wood floor.

  Hailey was too busy taking in the marine ambience to check out the wall.

  Buoy Beer signs—must be a local brew she’d have to try when she wasn’t about to be on duty. Oars, ship’s wheels, giant stuffed fish, a couple bowling trophies, so many signs it was impossible to make sense of them—though “Play Meat Bingo Every Sunday” definitely stood out. Only one television, and it was off. Definitely her kind of place.

  Battered tables to the front and a big U-shaped bar to the back. Good crowd. Not packed, just cozy and friendly. Group of old graybeards at the far end of the bar harmonizing Christmas carols with no apparent melody and few discernable words.

  By the amazing grilled-meat smell coming from the corner kitchen, they’d definitely hit pay dirt.

  They dumped their gear and slicks in a corner that didn’t look too grotty, then took a pair of stools at the bar.

  “Beer?” The barman had a generous beard, shaved head, heavy earrings, and an impressive set of arm tattoos. He also stood about six-five and had a good smile.

  “I wish. A Coke and a steak. Still mooing.”

  “Coastie?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “No one except a Coastie comes in here asking for a Coke with their steak.”

  “Two of us.” She nodded to Vera who ordered a burger and a pot of tea.

  The barman just laughed and headed to the kitchen at the back of the bar.

  “Tea, really?”

  Vera just shrugged pleasantly.

  4

  Sly was so psyched.

  Ham was totally missing out and he’d get to rub it in for the whole upcoming flight.

  In a town not known for having a lot of variety—especially because their crew kept coming to this same place to eat and drink—there were two new women at the bar. With their backs to him, he took his time moseying up to the bar.

  He spotted the luggage covered in slicks. Mega-bonus: they’d just hit town. Too bad he was flying tonight. Maybe they’d be around for a while.

  One was tall and had straight, jet-black hair down to her shoulders.

  The other, much shorter, clearly had curves, and super-curly hair cut short.

  “Hey, Teddy,” he sidled up to the bar. He handed over the order because he forgot to call it in. “And Harvey is whining about the horseradish again. Could you give me a container of mayonnaise instead or something.”

  “And mess with my man, Harvey? Dream on,” Teddy grinned and headed back to the cook.

  Then Sly turned. From the front neither bar babe disappointed.

  As advertised from behind, the tall one was sleek. One of those Asian types—Chinese, Japanese, whatever. He could never tell.

  The short one did indeed have curves, great ones. Lushly dark skin, and a sideways grin that said she totally knew that he was checking them out.

  “His name’s Teddy?”

  “No, but he’s built like a giant Teddy bear, so it works on him.”

  “Less than you’d think.” The bartender planted a glass of water on the bar, hard enough to slop some onto Sly’s arm—not that it really mattered with how wet it was out there.

  Teddy’s wink at the women proved he’d done it on purpose. Sly really didn’t need the trouble and waited until he’d moved off to pull some pints at the other side of the bar.

  “So, you here for the surfing?”

  The Asian chick looked at him in wide-eyed mystification.

  The curvy black chick almost snorted her Coke with a bright laugh, so he riffed on it.

  “It’s big here on the Coast. They even have an app that announces when and where the surf’s up.”

  “It’s December, dude.” Her voice was low and throaty. Nice.

  “Wetsuits. Year round. Honest,” he raised a three-fingered Boy Scout salute.

  “What? You made Tenderfoot? Can’t believe they let you in at all.”

  “I got to Star.”

  “Oooo, Vera, we’re in the presence of greatness. Too bad he flunked out before he made Eagle Scout.”

  Well, that gave him one of their names, but the wrong one.

  “Actually, I had to choose whether I went Eagle or started lessons in—”

  “Remedial ‘Being a Human Being
’?” She was quick.

  “Yeah, that.” He gave her a nod, conceding the round. —flying lessons. At least that’s where he would normally work being a USCG helo pilot into the conversation. But he liked her quick response too much to ruin it.

  It lit up that killer smile again. “So, you’re, like, Mr. Surfing Man?” She held out her arms as if she was balancing and riding the waves.

  “In this weather? Shit no. I’m not that crazy.”

  And her laugh gave him that round.

  Teddy delivered the babes’ dinners, so closely followed by a bag of his four orders that it was clear Vivian had called it in. Damn, just when he wasn’t in a hurry.

  Teddy tossed Sly one of those small plastic containers. “Don’t be losing that, or you really will piss off Harvey and I wash my hands of whatever he does to your sorry ass. Mayo’s in the order, that’s his horseradish.”

  “Dude!” He held up a hand for a high-five, which Teddy ignored just long enough to make the bar chick laugh again, before delivering. Damn but she had a great laugh. Sly then tucked the horseradish container in his slicker’s pocket.

  “You going to be in town a while?”

  “Yes, we are,” Vera replied calmly before cutting off a bite of her hamburger—with a knife and fork.

  “A fair bit,” the other one mumbled around a mouthful of prime rib.

  And for some reason he didn’t understand, he decided to just play it cool. As if Vivian was watching over his shoulder and telling him not to mess this one up.

  “Well, gotta go feed the wolf pack before they get too ravenous,” he hefted the bag to make his point.

  She waved a knife at him in goodbye as if he was totally unimportant.

  “You got a name?” Sometimes you just had to ask.

  “Yep. You?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good thing to have,” then she made a show of sticking another bite of prime rib in her mouth before turning to her friend.