Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (8 page)

The
Double Dippin’
laid out her net.

Sonya tried to keep out of the way of the other drifters, packed into the mouth of the river, while her crew went over all the hydraulic lines. She wracked her brain, wondering when someone would have had the opportunity to tamper with her boat.

“Found it!” Wes hollered.

“Where?” she asked, hanging out of the pilot house.

“Someone’s punctured one of the hoses on the rollers. We wouldn’t have noticed it until we powered it up to pull in the net.” Which would have caused them all sorts of problems.

“Can we fix it?” she asked.

“Already on it,” Gramps said, holding up a roll of duct tape. “This will patch it up until we can replace the hose.”

Sonya laughed with relief. There wasn’t anything Gramps believed couldn’t be fixed with a bit of duct tape. She sure hoped he was right in this case. If they lost the use of the hydraulic roller, the chance of catching a reasonable amount of fish, dwindled considerably. They’d have to round-haul the net in by hand. Having it full of fish, and fighting the pull of the tide, would make reeling it in tough, quickly exhausting the crew.

Garrett had saved them lots of time and back-breaking work, not to mention, money.

Now she’d have to find him and apologize for her snotty attitude. Worst of all, she’d have to thank him. Shit.

They pulled in their first net, yielding a respectable catch. Sonya turned over the wheel to Gramps under the pretense of wanting to be on deck when the net came over the rollers. When in fact, she didn’t want Gramps overdoing it. The man wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly after finding the sliced hydraulic line. Sonya promised herself she’d find the bastard responsible. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she was easy pickings. Then a member of her crew turned mutiny when she informed them that, as captain, she was upholding the long standing tradition of everyone kissing the first caught fish of the season for luck.

Peter screwed up his face. “That is gross on so many levels. Besides, I’m almost eighteen. It should be my choice what I kiss. It’s a stupid ritual, anyway.”

“No, it’s not. As captain, I’m ordering you to do it.” Fishermen tended to be a bit superstitious. She was no different. Every year she’d fished, Gramps had upheld this very ritual. It was Sonya’s year, and they were fishing a new way, but a ritual was a ritual.

“Kiss the fish, Peter,” Wes said with a dare in his eye. “You need all the practice you can get, especially if you want to try your luck with Lana.”

“Lana? You want to kiss Lana Harte?” Sonya remembered the way Peter had acted at the campfire the other night. He’d paid more attention to Lana than he had his food. In the past, he’d picked on Lana. Pulled her hair, teased—kid stuff—but there had been a difference in the way he’d treated her last night. Taking food to her, offering her a seat, standing when she stood. A lot the way Garrett had treated
her
.

Scratch that.

She refused to think about Garrett.

Peter’s blush rivaled the flesh of a spawning salmon. “So what if I wouldn’t mind kissing her. She’s hot.”

Lana
had
grown into a beautiful young woman. “She’s older than you, by what…two years?” Sonya pointed out. The Hartes could be trouble. Look at what had happened between her and Aidan. Sonya didn’t think Lana handled problems with her fists, though being raised in that family, the girl could be seriously messed up.

“So what. Aidan’s older than you. That didn’t stop you from having a thing last year.”

“You’re only seventeen. That’s a big difference and you know it.” Sonya hammered home.

“All right, don’t nag. I’ll kiss the fish.”

She
so
did not nag and was ready to tell Peter just that when she mentally took a step back. She had to remember that their relationship was changing. For so long, she’d spent all her time mothering him. Worrying about him. His friends, his choices, his future. It was time to back off and let him do some of his own choosing. The boy was becoming a man.

“Pucker up, lover boy.” Wes held the fish by the tail and underbelly. Peter scrunched up his face and kissed the fish, spitting over the side of the boat afterward. Sonya laughed. Wes turned the sockeye around, making kissy noises, and planted one on its nose. “All right, Sonya, you’re up.”

Sonya rubbed her hands and sang, “Here, fishy fishy.” She gave it a smooch. The fish was cold and slimy. Like Peter had said, it was a stupid ritual, but fun and who knew if it really worked or not. She wasn’t going to be the one Savonski who threw caution to the wind and put a stop to it. Not when she needed every bit of luck she could get this summer.

The
Mary Jane
drifted next to them and her captain, Ringo hollered over from his crow’s nest, “Sonya, you ever want a real man, look me up.” He pursed his lips and blew her a kiss. “I’ll promise you a party, sweetheart.”

No doubt. “Thanks,
Mary Jane,
but this is all I want.” She figured anyone seeing her crew kissing fish
would
do a double take.

One of the
Mary Jane’s
crew shot off a question to Ringo, “Shouldn’t we be kissing our fish? It’s kinda like a blessing, right?”

“You want to kiss a fish, dude, knock yourself out,” Ringo said. “Me, I’d rather kiss me a fine looking woman.” He gave Sonya a “call me” signal that she wisely chose to ignore.

“Hey, I need a chance to kiss that beauty,” Gramps yelled from the pilot house as he leaned out the window. “I’m ready to be relieved, captain.”

“Be right up.” She turned to Peter and Wes, who were already pulling the rest of the net into the boat. “Don’t let him overdo.”

“Got it, Captain,” Wes said, picking fish out of the net as the duct-taped hydraulics pulled it in over the rollers.

“Don’t worry, Sonya. We’ve got ‘Operation Gramps’ under control.” Peter gave her a conspiring wink. She smiled at both of them, and then headed for the pilot house.

She’d talked with Wes and Peter yesterday about limiting the amount of work Gramps did. They’d all agreed that they’d have to be sneaky about it so he didn’t catch on. The man was clever and had a lot of pride. The last thing they wanted to do was damage either.

The thought was quickly forgotten as they were rammed on the starboard side.

“Howdy,
Double D
,” captain of the
Miss Julie II
, hollered. “Sorry for the nudge.”

“Nudge me like that again, Treat, and I’m going to take it the wrong way.”

“A sweet young thing like you wouldn’t play hardball now, would ya?”

“There’s nothing sweet about me. I have no qualms about busting your balls.”

“Hear that boys? The
Double D’s
a feisty one.”

C
HAPTER
S
IX

Aidan reached the bluff that overlooked the mouth of the river. He hated that he felt like he
had
to get a look at what Sonya was up to. He lay down on his stomach in the tall grass and raised the binoculars. Deep down he knew what she was doing was wrong. It was a big waste of money, and time, and unnecessary risk. Or was it that he wished he had the guts to try and accomplish what she was doing?

In a sense, they’d grown up together, spending every summer fishing out here with their families. He focused the binoculars on the
Double Dippin’.
He was older and had a choice in where he spent the summer. Yet he still returned to put up with the same old shit. He was only biding his time. It couldn’t be long now. The smoking, the drinking, and the cranky attitude had to be wearing on the old man. Earl would kick the bucket soon.

If someone didn’t help him into a grave first.

Lana dropped onto the grass next to him. “Spying on her isn’t going to help your cause.” His cousin’s breezy attitude, all smile and teeth, rubbed at his already nasty mood.

Aidan refocused the binoculars back to the deck of the
Double Dippin’
, catching Sonya throwing her head back with a laugh he wished he could hear. He felt a pang in his chest.

“Go away, brat,” he said to Lana. He thought he’d lost her down at the docks. Guess she was more observant than he’d given her credit for. She’d been shadowing him all morning, and had just proved she was damn hard to lose.

“No wonder Sonya gave you the boot. Do you talk to all women that way?”

“You’re not a woman.”

“Last I looked I was.”

“What are you doing here, Lana? I’m sure you could’ve found something better to do than bug me.” He’d come here to be alone and chart his next course while he did a little reconnaissance work. At least, that sounded better than wasting his afternoon playing Peeping Tom.

“Nope. Been looking forward to bugging you all year.” She picked a long blade of grass and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.

He bit back a mean retort. He shouldn’t take his anger and frustration out on Lana. She was a sweet kid. What had he learned in his anger management class? Think before you react. “How’s your mom?”

Lana scrunched up her pretty face. “Same. Off to Brazil looking for her next affair.”

“We sure got the bottom of the barrel when it came to parents, didn’t we?”

When Lana’s parents divorced, the courts had given Roland summer visitation, and Lana’s mother had happily shipped her off to Alaska every summer after she’d turned thirteen. Aidan had lost his mother to the bottle, followed by the grave, when he was ten.

Lana nodded her head in the direction of the bay. “You see anything interesting out there?”

“Take a look for yourself.” He handed her the binoculars and rolled onto his back, letting the stingy rays of the sun—playing chase with the gray clouds—warm his face.

She gazed though the binoculars in the direction of the
Double Dippin’
. “Peter sure looks different this summer.”

Aidan chuckled. “Yeah, he got his man on over the winter.” Aidan had a thought and turned his head to get a better look at Lana. “You aren’t thinking of…”

“What? No. He’s just sweet on me and it’s—” she shrugged her thin shoulders “—you know…nice.”

Aidan figured he wasn’t the only one wanting to be a part of the Savonski clan. The Savonskis seemed to get along, as though they truly liked each other. Aidan hadn’t heard Nikolai say anything derogatory to Margaret or anyone else at their camp. There was never any drinking, smoking, or yelling coming from across the creek. The Harte camp did enough of that for the whole beach. Instead, there was laughter, music, and fresh-baked cookies. He wanted to be a part of that. He’d almost been, last summer. To coin Lana’s turn of phrase, Sonya and been sweet on him. Then he’d gone and ruined it. With one frustrated swing, he’d thrown it all away.

Now, he was after getting it all back.

What the hell was she doing?

Garrett refocused the dial on the binoculars. He’d seen the
Miss Julie II
intentionally ram Sonya. It was like bumper cars on water out here. The boats were too close and the fishing area too small for this many fishermen. Someone was going to get hurt, and he had a sinking feeling that “someone” captained the
Double Dippin’
.