by Elle Viviani
I raise my eyebrows. “When did you become badass?”
She scoffs. “When I heard my best friend being talked about like she was some ten-year-old girl.”
I laugh, despite how crummy I feel. Maddison always knows how to cheer me up even when I want to ball up and cry. “I needed that.”
“So, are you game?”
“For what?”
“Learning about sailing or fishing or whatever you’ve gotten yourself into?”
I turn my head at the sound of the front door slamming shut. I guess Koa’s left after he realized he’s getting nowhere with Gramps. I remember what Gramps said. He stood by me, promising Koa that I’d be “invaluable to him this season.”
Well, I don’t know about invaluable, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be known as a helpless damsel in distress all summer. And I definitely didn’t want to let my grandfather down. Not when he needed me.
“Summer? You still with me?”
“I’m with you, and I’m in.” I march over to the screen door, yank it open, and stride across the cool porch to the kitchen door. “And I’m going to kick Koa’s ass this summer.”
“That’s my girl.”
“No one calls me ‘useless’ and gets away with it.”
“Damn straight.”
“I’ve gotta go. I have some things to see about…”
“Go get ’em!” Maddison says happily before clicking off.
I place my phone on the kitchen island and head for Gramps’s study. I don’t even knock. Gramps jumps out of his chair as I barge in.
“Summer! When do you get back?” he asks. He glances out the front window, probably checking to make sure Koa’s gone.
“For a while now,” I say, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.
“Do you, uh, need something?”
I give him a small smile. “Yes.” I look around his study, taking in the wall-to-wall bookshelves filled to the brim with books. My eyes stop on the section closest to the desk. “I need those.”
He follows my gaze over his shoulder. “You need what?”
I nod to the shelf overflowing with nautical books. “I need everything you have on lobsters and fishing.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“And sailing,” I add.
Gramps frowns. “Why now?”
I give him a grim smile. “Because I’m a first mate…captain.”
8
Koa
I look up from my pots as a whistle pierces the air. A catcall and holler follow quickly after. I glance around the harbor as every male around me stops what they’re doing to stare at the head of the dock. My jaw drops as I follow their gaze.
Summer’s walking down the dock toward my boat in a tight white t-shirt, bright red waders, and deck boots. The tips of her bright blonde hair graze her shoulders as she shifts her bag to reach inside. She draws out a pair of sunglasses, slides them on, and waves at her captive audience.
“Good luck out there, boys!” she says, giving them all a cheeky smile.
A cheer rises from the ranks as they wave back. I catch a few overly descriptive words for my first mate and remind myself to have a chat with our friendly neighbors when we get back to harbor.
“Morning, Captain,” Summer says curtly as she draws up next to the boat. She heaves her bag over the side onto the deck and stares at me.
“You look different,” I say slowly. She actually looks completely different. Yesterday, Summer showed up in Top-Siders, jean shorts, and a paper-thin tank top with a bikini top underneath. Believe me, I know, because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the bright pink fabric after she went for her, er, swim. Today, though, she’s in full, top-of-the-line fishing gear.
“Thanks,” she says with a tight smile. She tosses her hair back and sweeps it into a low bun. “Are we ready to push off?”
I nod and wrench my eyes off of her. I still don’t know if it’s sexier to see a woman take her hair down or put it up. Let’s just agree that they’re both pretty damn hot. “I’ll, uh, grab the lines…”
I start toward the side but stop as Summer holds up her hand. “Let me,” she says, heading for the aft line.
“You sure?”
“Oh. I’m sure.”
I raise my eyebrows. “They’re pretty difficult knots to—”
Words leave me as Summer effortlessly twists the complicated knots free from the plaits. “Or never mind.”
Summer gives me another tight smile and moves toward the starboard line. “Wanna start the engine? We’ll be pushing off in a few moments.”
My eyebrows inch up even farther. When did Summer start giving me orders? “Okay…”
I head to the helm and fire up the engine, then turn back to offer her my help with the dicey process of pushing off. But she’s way ahead of me. Summer pulls the last line free before leaning over to give the side a big shove. Then, as the boat edges away from the pier, she steps back and leaps for the boat.
“No, don’t!” I shout, running toward the spot where she’s bound to face plant. “You’ll hurt—”
I stop and watch in total shock as Summer gracefully clears the side and lands flawlessly on the deck in front of me.
“—yourself,” I finish lamely. Summer gives me the most satisfied grin I’ve ever seen, then walks to the side and snatches up her bag. “What? I mean, when did you…”
“Is everything okay, Captain?” she asks innocently, meeting my stunned gaze.
“I think?”
“Great. I’ll just be settling in, then.” She throws her bag over her shoulder and trots down the stairs out of sight. I stare after her for a few moments before giving my shoulders a hard shake.
Okay, so she successfully nailed a push off. Big deal. You can’t change that much overnight. Today’s still going to be just as bad as yesterday, and then I’ll talk to Captain again with even more examples of how inexperienced she is.
I smile to myself and turn back to the wheel. Yup, Summer will sink this boat today, no doubt about it.
To my enormous surprise, she doesn’t. She still messes up, but nothing as egregious as chucking bait over the side or screwing up the reel. She completes all of her tasks—even the difficult ones—with a diligence that surprises me, and all through a pretty bad bout of seasickness. She’d popped down to the head three times in our first hour of open sea and had yet to complain.
I guess I should be happy, or even impressed, but I’m not. I’m pissed. At the rate she’s picking things up, I’m looking at a long season with her as my first mate. I grit my teeth. Alright. Enough Mr. Nice Guy. It’s time to push this little birdie out of the nest.
“Summer?”
Summer jumps up from her station by the pots. I had already transferred our catch to the tanks and had her rebaiting the pots so we could toss them back out. It’s pretty gross, but she was doing an annoyingly good job. “You know what could really be helpful?”
Summer nods, a hopeful look in her eyes. “What?”
“If you could clean out the head.”
“Oh. Um…” She goes pale for a moment but rallies. “Okay. I’ll get on it.”
No! What’s happening?
Sure enough, Summer resurfaces thirty minutes later with the unwelcome news that the head is now sparkling.
“Great,” I deadpan. “Now I need you to stack the cages you just baited so we can toss them out.”
Summer’s jaw drops open as she scans the dozens of pots she’d just spent the last hour on. “All of these?”
I shrug, knowing this is usually the task meant for men twice her size. “They’ll bake in the sun if we leave them there. If the stench doesn’t get you, then the flies will.”
She goes green for a moment at the thought. “Alright!” she cries, throwing on her gloves. “No problem.”
What the hell? I glare at her back as she diligently undertakes by far the hardest thing I’ve had her do. This chick’s hard as nails.
Not s
urprisingly, it takes her the better part of two hours to make headway. I’m about to call it a day by the time she finishes. “Captain—” Summer pauses to push a sweaty strand of hair out of her face “—I’m all done.”
“Fantastic,” I say dryly, grudgingly impressed.
She smiles weakly. “No problem. Do you need me to throw them back in?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do it. I have to pass a line through first and mark them.”
“Okay. Well, if everything’s taken care of, I’ll just take a break…” Summer inches toward the head, probably getting another bout of seasickness based on her queasy-looking face.
“Yeah, sure.” I pause as an idea hits me. This is definitely not meant for a girl her size. “There is one more thing…”
Summer gulps. I can hear her stomach rolling from here. “Really?”
“You bet,” I say grimly. It’s a disgusting job, but it’s usually done by the second officer—like me, when Captain was still in charge. “Refill the bait buckets.”
Her clammy complexion turns green. “Um, well, if you think—”
Summer stops as I roll my eyes. She stares at me for a moment, then narrows her eyes. “You’re messing with me?”
“No, I’m just annoyingly impressed.”
“What?”
“How on earth are you doing all this?” I cry, finally losing it. She shouldn’t be here. She should be begging me to accept her resignation by now. “Why would you say yes to any of this?”
“Because you ordered me to do,” she answers slowly.
“But it’s exhausting! Refill the chum buckets?” I stare at her. “You should be running for the hills after all the other crap I just made you do.”
Summer’s face goes from green to red in the blink of an eye. “You’ve been working me hard on purpose?”
“No, I’ve been working you hard because you’re my first mate. I’ve been shielding you before this, but now you know exactly how hard we work.”
“You…” she mutters dangerously.
I step toward her. “Is that not okay? Are you finding this too difficult, honey?” I give a silent cheer as she opens her mouth.
Come on, quit!
I wait, but the shouting match never comes. Instead, she cocks her head and smiles. “No problem, Captain.”
I stare at her in shock as she turns and stomps toward the stairs leading belowdeck. “I’ll be in the head trying not to be sick. Oh, and one more thing…” She whirls around and glares at me. “Never call me honey again.”
I curse as the bathroom door slams shut. I turn back to the wheel and take it off of autopilot. We’re almost at the dock and I need to focus on not running into another boat, rather than the annoying woman puking into the toilet below me. She didn’t lose her cool today, but I’ll have more opportunities to work her to the bone. I’m chained to her all summer if my plan doesn’t work, so what’s another day?
I finish throwing the pots over the side, threading a line through them and marking them with out buoys, and head for harbor. I’ve just cut the engine when Summer reappears on the deck with her bag on her back. She strides over to the side as the boat drifts into its slip and tosses the dock bumpers over the side. The boat bounces around for a moment, then settles into its bed for the night.
I’m finishing locking out the controls when a soft thump makes me turn. The starboard lines are strewn across the pier. I glance around, wondering who could have thrown them. Then I notice Summer making her way portside toward the second pair of lines.
No way. She didn’t do it. It’s a long throw to the pier. My eyes follow her as she trots over to the heap of coiled rope, stoops down, and picks it up. She leans back, bends her knees, and twists her waist as she heaves the pile onto the dock. Then she turns, takes a deep breath, and starts running. I hold out my hand. “What are you—”
Summer jumps up, plants her foot on the side, and launches herself off the boat. She lands on the dock a second later. I gape at her as she walks over to the first line and ties it off. She moves around the boat and does the same portside. She straightens, pushes the hair from her face, and gives me a perfunctory nod.
“Night, Captain,” she says, then strides up the dock toward the harbor restaurant.
I stare after her, struck dumb from sheer shock. Who is this woman, and where did she learn to tie off a boat like that?
I’m about to follow her to ask just that when my phone rings. A quick glance at the screen turns my scowl into a grin. “Bryce! Long time, buddy.”
“Hey, Rendell.” My friend’s voice is husky and low over the scratchy speaker. “How’s it going?”
I hit speaker, rest the phone on the seat, and grab the hose to rinse down the deck. “Closing up shop after a long day.”
“Fishing day?”
“Always. Got promoted to captain, actually.”
“Whoa! Congrats, man.”
“Yeah…”
“Or not?”
I sigh. “It’s more like who.”
“Huh? Whaddaya mean?”
“Gerry has his granddaughter visiting for the summer and thought it would be a good idea for her to help out. She’s this prissy girl from New York with zero fishing experience.”
“No way.”
“I know. She’s driving me crazy.”
“Huh. That blows, man. I’m sorry.”
I shrug and start the hose. “Nothing I can do about it. Tried getting her to quit, but she won’t give up.”
“You what?”
“It’s not what you think. I just make her do a bunch of difficult things that should drive her mad, but it’s not.”
“Sounds kinda mean.”
I bristle. “It’s not. At least I don’t think it is.” I stop and give myself a shake. “It sounds worse than it is. Anyway, it’s a necessary evil. Given the chance, this girl would sink the whole fleet. Don’t worry, bro, I’ve got a plan.”
“Uh huh.” Bryce’s tone lets me know what he thinks about “my plan.”
I turn off the hose and grab the mop. “So, what’s up with you? How’s Nashville?”
“It’s complicated. Real complicated.”
I groan. “Sounds like we’re in similar situations.”
“Maybe. But I’d like to get away from my situation for a bit.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Coming up for a visit. It’s your birthday soon and I could use the distraction.”
I stop mopping as I realize that my birthday is this weekend. “Dude, I totally forgot what day it was.”
Bryce laughs, a great, booming sound even on speaker phone. “So I’m assuming you’re free.”
I push the mop around the wet deck. “Always.”
“And that you’ve got zero plans.”
“Always.”
“That’s why you’ve got me. I’ll come up this weekend, sound good?”
“Cool. I get in pretty late on Fridays, though.”
“No prob. I’ll take the train to Portland.”
I stop, halfway through pushing the rest of the murky water off the side. “The train? What is this, 1900?”
“I want to take my time. I need to think.”
I shrug and grab the dirty water bucket. Real nice of Summer to tie off the boat and then leave me to do all the grunt work. “Suit yourself. Just text me your times and I’ll meet you at the station.”
“Cool. See you Saturday, then.”
“Yup.”
“And dude?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t piss off this girl too much.”
I stop. “Why?”
“I’d like to meet her and I don’t want her consumed with fury at the sight of you.”
“Why on earth would you want to meet her?” I ask, ignoring that last part.
“She seems cool.”
I laugh. “She’s not.”
“I dunno. Anyone who manages to pierce that thick skin of yours and piss you off has my attention.”
/>
I walk over to the seat and lean in to my phone. “I’m hanging up now.” I tap the screen and sever the call. Bryce is definitely right about Summer getting under my skin, but he couldn’t be more wrong about her being cool. “Cool” doesn’t mean irritating the hell out of me. “Cool” doesn’t mean the most annoying woman I’ve ever met.
Oh no. Summer Rae is not “cool.” She’s the woman who’s sending me to a shallow grave.
9
Summer
The past few days have been rough. Not surprisingly, Koa’s been a condescending and churlish jerk ever since I walked down the dock Monday morning and declared that he’s stuck with me. I loved the stunned look on his face when I pushed us off. I executed the move flawlessly after spending all of Sunday night watching every video and reading every sailing manual I could get my hands on. Thank you YouTube for helping me wipe that smug look off my captain’s stupidly handsome face.
But today’s a different story. Today’s a turning point. Because right now I am at the helm, wheel in hand, steering the boat. Yes, you heard me correctly. I, Summer Rae, am in charge of maneuvering a very large, very important, very expensive lobster boat.
Thirty minutes ago, Koa dragged me up to the helm, plugged in some coordinates, and ordered me to steer. “Keep on this heading,” he said, pointing to the compass affixed to the dash. “If you don’t screw this up, then we should be at port in one hour.”
I had let him know exactly what I thought of that unnecessary comment before turning my attention ahead of me. It was a lot of responsibility, but I was ready for it, and I wasn’t going to let him down.
I glance down at the heading and adjust the wheel slightly to keep that red arrow firmly on the giant E. Due east, Koa ordered, so due east is what he’s gonna get. I check the time. It’s been a little over thirty minutes, so we should be back at the harbor in—
I stumble back as the boat hits a steep wave. It lurches up and to the side before slapping back down onto the water. The surf’s been choppier today, but luckily the motion sickness pills I found at CVS had worked their magic.
I stagger back as the boat lurches over another wave. The compass spins for a moment, then comes to rest on the SE. We’re going off course, which means I’ll need to adjust. I’m still a few steps from the helm when I notice the wheel slowly moving to the right. I stop and watch the wheel pause, then adjust itself slightly to the left. I move my eyes to the compass.
