Summer Catch (Four Seasons of Romance Book 1)

by Elle Viviani

  “Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath. It reads due east again. Which mean we’re back on course. Which means that the boat just corrected itself. Which means—

  “KOA!” I bellow, whirling around and finding the mastermind behind this diabolical joke. “Get out here!”

  He comes running up the stairs. “What?” he cries, jerking his head around. “What’s wrong?”

  I enjoy the look of pure panic on his face before letting him have it. “I can’t believe I fell for that!”

  He scrunches up his forehead. “For what?”

  “Steer the boat?” I yank the wheel hard to the right and step back, waiting for the boat to do its thing. Sure enough, a few seconds pass before the wheel slowly turns back to the left. “It’s on bloody AUTOPILOT!”

  Koa fails miserably at hiding his laughter. Lying doesn’t come naturally to him, a trait I would appreciate, except that every gravelly chortle coming out of that smug face makes me feel even more idiotic.

  I glare at him. “You’re not even sorry that for the past thirty minutes, you’ve had me driving a boat that’s driving itself?”

  “I am sorry…that you found out. There’s no way I’m leaving you in charge of the boat, Summer.”

  “I’ve worked my ass off this week and I think I’ve proven myself, but you don’t seem to care.” I narrow my eyes. “In fact, you’ve been rude to me since I stepped foot on this boat.”

  “And you’ve been Miss Congeniality? You’ve been as prickly as a cactus these past few days.”

  “I wouldn’t have been if you were nicer. Like when we were out in Portland that one time.”

  “I’m not here to be nice or chauffeur you around. I’m here to fish.”

  “So am I!”

  He scoffs. “Right, and then you’ll go home to your comfortable city life and never get your hands dirty again.”

  I narrow my eyes. “So now you’re angry that I’m from New York?”

  “No,” he snaps back. “I’m angry because you’ve broken, tangled, or lost everything you’ve touched.”

  I jab a finger at him. “I’m a fish out of water here!”

  He cringes at the pun. “Tell me that wasn’t on purpose.”

  “It wasn’t,” I say, feeling a blush bloom across my cheeks, “but it’s how I feel. I’m rusty, I haven’t sailed in years, yet you’re no help since you’ve refused to teach me the ropes.”

  “Please stop with these horrible puns!”

  “They’re not on purpose!”

  He glowers at me from under thunderous brows, thunderous and sexy brows that only draw my attention to how close we are. His blue eyes are hard as diamonds as he looks down at me. His strong jaw clenched with frustration. His hard chest heaving with labored breaths. He’s beautiful and sweaty and sexy as hell as he stands there, glaring daggers at me.

  Oh, and did I mention he’s shirtless? Yeah. Sometime yesterday he decided he’d start walking around the boat without his shirt on. Just picture perfectly sculpted abs, along with hard pecks and lats to match, and you’ll understand what my hormones are up against.

  Heat courses through my body and pools deep in my belly. Whether it’s from anger or lust, I know I’m on the brink of losing it. Koa drives me mad, but when a guy looks at you like that, there’s bound to be some physical repercussions.

  “Look,” he says in a low, hard voice, “I don’t want you here, and you don’t want to be here. So why don’t we do ourselves a favor and just stay out of each other’s way?” He sidesteps me and marches up to the helm. He hits the same buttons as last time, which I’m now guessing control the autopilot, then scans the quickly approaching coastline. “We’ll be there soon. Why don’t you—”

  “I know, Koa.”

  He turns around. “What?”

  “I said, I know.”

  “Yeah, I got that part. About what, exactly?”

  I plant a hand on my hip. “I heard you talking to my grandfather. I know what you said about me.”

  Koa pales under his tan. “You do?”

  I nod. “I do.”

  “Oh, um, well…”

  I wait for his apology, but it never comes. This is what I do get: a shrug and a sideways glance.

  “Are you serious?” I say. “You’re not even going to apologize?”

  “About what?” he scowls.

  “About…about snitching on me to my own grandfather!”

  “Snitching?”

  “You didn’t even have the common decency to talk to me about it. You went behind my back and—”

  “This isn’t the sorority house, honey,” Koa snaps. “This is the real world.”

  I gape at him, not believing my ears. “You’re not sorry? At all?”

  “Of course I’m sorry, Summer.” Koa frowns and glances away. “I’m sorry that your feelings were hurt. I’m sorry you overheard something that you weren’t meant to hear. But…” He meets my eyes again. “What I said was the truth. I’m not sorry for putting my boat and job before your feelings.”

  I stare at him for a moment. Then shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

  He snorts. “So are you.”

  I turn on my heels. “I’ll be over there, NOT getting in your way.”

  “Fine with me,” he mutters under his breath as I huff over to my newly claimed roost. We spend the next ten minutes in silence until Koa brings the boat into harbor. Maneuvers the large vessel into its narrow slip with the ease that comes with years on the water. I scowl at his muscly back.

  Yup, we get it. You’re perfect. CONGRATULATIONS.

  The minute the boat touches the dock, I’m up and over the side, my feet hitting the hard wood of the dock with a loud thud. And then I’m striding down the pier, getting the hell away from my nightmare of a boss.

  “Summer, hey! What about tying off?”

  I ignore the tanned Adonis shouting after me and head for the parking lot. The faster I get away from Koa, the faster I can put this whole business behind me. Because if one thing was made clear today, it’s that this whole “first mate” gig is a mistake. And the sooner Gramps knows that, the sooner I can move on with having the summer I dreamed of. Unencumbered by the opposite sex.

  “Insufferable,” I mutter as I yank off my bike chain and drop it into the wicker basket. “Smug little self-satisfied…”

  I hop on the seat and kick off the curb, peddling hard and fast to put as much distance between me and that godforsaken harbor as possible. “Who does he think is? Arrogant, self-righteous…”

  These comforting and soothing thoughts accompany me all the way home. I hop off, slump the bike against the front steps, and hightail it to my grandfather’s study.

  “Summer!” He smiles and gets up from his armchair. “Have a pleasant day with Koa?”

  “No,” I say curtly, dropping myself in the chair opposite his. “And I won’t be having any more of these ‘pleasant’ days with Captain Jerk-Face.”

  Gramps’s eyebrows shoot up. “Captain what now?”

  “He’s impossible, Gramps! He’s arrogant and condescending and—today he made me steer a boat that was on autopilot!”

  Ah,” he says slowly, “yes, that is rather upsetting.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “I’m not.” The smile grows. “Okay, maybe a little. Come on, Summer, it’s kinda humorous.”

  “No it isn’t! I’ve been trying so hard to step up my game, but Koa doesn’t seem to understand that I haven’t fished for freakin’ lobsters my whole life.” I sit back in my chair and sigh. “You know, I’d love to see him in New York City. I bet he’d botch everything, too.”

  Gramps leans forward and pats my knee. “Koa’s a good kid, Summer. Give him another chance.”

  “No way.”

  “Please, dear. You don’t know what he’s been through.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Gramps loses himself in thought for a few seconds. “He probably wouldn’t want me talking about it…
” He meets my gaze and shrugs. “But who the devil cares.”

  I lean forward and wait for him to continue.

  “Koa’s lived in Portland his whole life, but it hasn’t been a happy one. His mom left him when he was real young, eight or nine, which is awful. But it’s not just that. It’s that she left him with his father, who was never there for the boy.”

  Gramps shakes his head. “Hard man. Distant, cold. Not a man you’d want to single-handedly raise a son.”

  I frown. “A lot of kids are raised by single parents these days.”

  “But do they tell their only son at eighteen that it’s the military or nothing?”

  “What?”

  “His dad said he’d kick Koa out if he didn’t join the military.”

  “But what if he wanted to go to college or—”

  I stop as Gramps shakes his head. “Nope. Old Rendell’s a Navy man, and he wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. No matter that the service ruined him.” Gramps shifts in his seat. “Old Rendell’s a big drinker. Always has been.”

  “That’s awful,” I say, knowing my words fall flat for what I want to say. Growing up in a loveless household is tough, but then being forced to do something out of fear of your volatile father? Brutal. “So what did Koa do?”

  “What do you think? He joined the Navy! Being on your own at eighteen is scarier than bootcamp. But Koa, well…he didn’t take to the military lifestyle. You know what he’s like.”

  I nod. Koa is free, wild, untamed. He’s happiest out on the open water with only the sea and the sun as his companions. The thought of Koa being caged in by rules and regulations, orders and procedures, makes me cringe. Cages have no place in Koa’s life.

  Uh, except for lobsters…

  “He stayed in for four years, completed his deployment, but got out when he went up for re-enlistment. Came back to Portland and started looking for something that he enjoyed doing. I picked him up one day down at the docks. He was asking around if anyone needed help out on the water, and I convinced him to give commercial fishing a try. He’s been with me ever since.”

  “What did his dad say when he came back?”

  Gramps purses his lips. “I don’t know, Koa never said, but I’m sure he wasn’t happy. Koa upheld his end of their deal, so his dad doesn’t have any power over him anymore. Strangest thing—the old man still wanted his son close.” Gramps laughs. “But Koa didn’t move back in. Not a chance. Found a compromise, though. He converted this abandoned barn on his family’s property into a workshop and lives above it.”

  “A workshop?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

  “Why don’t I let you ask Koa about that?”

  I frown. “What makes you think I’m ever going to talk to him again, let alone see him?”

  “You’re going to see him again, that’s for sure. He’s not going to stop coming by the house with those weekly updates…”

  Darn it! I’d forgotten about those.

  “…and you’ll talk to him tomorrow when you show up at the dock at 6am.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, really?”

  Gramps smiles and pats my arm. “Yes. Because you’re a sweet and forgiving woman who knows that you can’t always judge a book by its cover.” Gramps winks. “I think you know a little bit about that.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Game. Set. Match. My grandfather wins again. “Alright, you win, but I’m only doing this because you’ll probably never let it go.”

  “You’re right about that!” Gramps claps his good hand on his knee and stands up. “Now, let’s go see about dessert. Jane picked up some blueberries from the market today and promised this old man some pie.”

  “But we haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “So?” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “You don’t always have to play by the rules, Summer.”

  I mull over his words as I follow him toward the sweet smells coming from the kitchen. You don’t have to play by the rules, and maybe that’s how I’ll deal with Koa. Now I know why he pushes everyone away. He prefers to be alone because that’s all he’s known.

  Well, tough luck. If Mr. Grouchy Pants won’t come to me, I’ll go to him. And if he breaks the olive branch I offer, I’ll just smile and find another, more sturdy one. Because Gramps is right: You can’t judge a book by its cover.

  Especially not a twenty-four-year-old teacher’s aide from the Big Apple.

  10

  Koa

  I help Rusty load the last of the catch onto the truck so he can take them to market. I’m feeling pretty good about this week. Today’s catch came in at a pretty good weight, making up for a few setbacks last week. I turn back for the pile of ropes lying on the dock, scoop a few up into my arms, and toss them over the truck bed. I tie mine off, then head around the bed to help Summer with hers.

  “I’m fine,” she says, seeing me approach. I take one of the ropes anyway and tie it off just as she finishes hers. We both move for the last one, our hands grabbing it at the same time. She scowls, trying to tug the rope from my grasp, but I hold fast, slightly relieved to hear her snap at me. She’s been uncommonly nice to me today and I was beginning to worry that I’d be stuck with this boring version of Summer all season. She may be annoying, but I’d take a fiery first mate over a yes-man any day.

  Summer tugs harder. “I know how to tie a square knot, Koa.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I learned to tie my own shoes in second grade!”

  We stare at each other, Summer’s eyes flashing in the setting sun. There’s the Summer I’d come to know. I step back and let the rope go. “Be my guest.”

  “Thank you.” She finishes off the knot a moment later and steps back. “Anything else?”

  I glance around the quiet harbor. Friday afternoons were always a ghost town. Most fishermen took off early for weekend plans or a seat at the bar. “We’ve already cleaned up, so we’re good.”

  Summer relaxes. “Great. So, see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah…” I shake my head. “No, wait. Take the whole weekend off.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Really? Why?”

  I shrug and make up some reason that has nothing to do with Bryce or my birthday. “You’ve worked hard these past two weeks. You need a break or you’ll get tired and go back to making mistakes.”

  Summer cocks her head. “Go back? So that means I’ve stopped?”

  I glance away.

  “Sounds like a compliment…”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I guess.”

  “Ha! I’ll take it!” She turns on her heel and grabs her bag off the dock. “Okay, well, have a good weekend,” she says as she heads down the dock.

  “Uh, yeah. Same,” I call after her. I slap the side of the truck and wave to Rusty. He waves back and puts the truck in gear. It lurches out of the parking lot a moment later. I grab my own bag and start down after Summer, mentally listing all the things I need to do before Bryce gets here. Cleaning is one of them and food shopping the other.

  I look up to see Summer standing in the middle of the dock, back turned, stiff as a board. Suddenly she throws back her head, sighs, and turns on her heels. She locks eyes with me. “Do you want to grab a drink with me?”

  “Uh, what?”

  “A drink. With me. At a bar.” Her foot begins to tap the warped planks of the worn pier as she waits for my answer.

  She’s impatient…or nervous.

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  Her jaw drops. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve got stuff to do.”

  She plants a hand on her hip. “Like what, Koa? You’re never busy.”

  “Well, tonight I am,” I say, ignoring that last comment. I try to push past her but she blocks my way.

  “Look, I’m trying here.”

  I stop and stare at her. So she is going out of her way to be nice to me! “It’s not you. Bars just aren’t my
scene.”

  “Why don’t you make an exception just this once?”

  “Because…” I trail off, trying to think of a valid excuse. I can’t, so I’m left with two options: flatly refuse and risk permanently hurting her feelings—tempting because it may finally get her out of my hair—or accepting. I’m not cruel, so I go with the only valid option. “Alright. Fine.”

  Summer’s face brightens. “Cool. Have a place you like?”

  “The Thirsty Pig isn’t bad.”

  “The Thirsty Pig it is, then!” Summer cries, taking my arm and leading me up the dock. Her touch takes me by surprise and I tense up, but luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Summer stops when we reach the end of the dock. She looks around and frowns. “Uh…I just realized I have no idea where we’re going.”

  I laugh and motion to the left. “Follow me.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re shoved into a sticky high top near the stage. The bar’s usually crowded, but on a Friday summer night, it’s packed to the gills. Locals and tourists alike mingle in the room, pushing through any gaps that become available at the bar to get their order in.

  When I said bars weren’t my scene, it was actually this mess I was referring to. The constant chatter, the shoving of strangers, the racket on stage as the band sets up. It’s enough to drive a man mad.

  Summer, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine. She surveys the crowd for a gap like a shark circling its prey. I know she’s spotted one when her eyebrows jump up. “I’ll be right back!” she hollers over the noise.

  I start to get up. “No, let me—”

  “Nonsense! I dragged you out here, so let me buy the first round.” Before I can argue further, Summer’s out of her chair and heading for the empty chair that a local just vacated. I spot the guy heading for the door and feel a pang of jealously. Too bad we couldn’t trade places.

  I glance back over at Summer, who’s somehow managed to flag down the harangued bartender in record time. I could still leave, get up and walk out without anyone noticing…