Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (48 page)

“Hey, you know what’s important. A broom would only be in the way.”

Suddenly she pulled out of his arms, her face flushed, eyes red-rimmed, and vulnerably beautiful. His heart did that swelling thing again.

“I do have a broom.” She slapped her forehead. “How could I forget?”

She rushed from the pilot house. He followed to find her lying between the stairs, reaching through the metal slats. He heard a shout of triumph as she pulled out a sad, ratty broom.

“We fly a broom when we catch a hundred thousand pounds of fish. I threw this under here for when we reach our goal.”

“You fly a broom?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a symbol of cleaning up. Get it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I get it.” He reached out his hand to her, and she took it. “Come on. Let’s get this mess cleaned up so you can catch enough fish this afternoon to put that broom to good use.”

The
Double Dippin’
didn’t sparkle, but she was clean of bomb debris.

Sonya’s crew had boarded for the drift opening, and they’d laid their first set, staying mid-river rather than fighting the line. In a sense, keeping a low profile. Sonya hadn’t wanted to provoke any other fishermen with Garrett as loud as the law onboard, and she didn’t want to answer questions over what had happened with Earl last night.

Word had already gotten around the bay. She felt the prying stares, had ignored the probing questions. She’d pretty much done a good job of staying in her own little bubble in her broken down pilot house. She’d only been able to cover one of the windows with plastic. The other had to stay open so she could see and converse with her crew.

Luckily the day had turned warm and sunny. The temp flirted around the sixty-five degree mark. A true heat wave for this part of Alaska. Sonya currently wore a short-sleeve t-shirt sporting the words, “Get Reel—Go Fish.” The guys were similarly dressed. They’d even had to pass around the bottle of sunscreen. Nothing like being on the water, in an aluminum boat, to produce killer sunburns if they weren’t protected.

Wes and Peter were putting Garrett through the paces. Good thing he’d swallowed a few Tylenol. The man was a greenhorn, having only fished with a rod and reel before. Drifting was a different kind of animal.

Sonya consulted the depth finder. She was in four feet of water, drifting over a sandbar. She glanced at the clock and then reviewed the tide charts. Another half hour until high tide, so she was fine drifting where she was. When the tide turned, she’d have to be careful hanging out over the sandbar so she didn’t run aground. There wasn’t another drift boat within a thousand yards of her. With their deep hulls, they couldn’t drift in shallow water and had to steer clear of areas like this one. With its flat bottom, the
Double Dippin’
would be fine in two feet of water.

She raised the binoculars and scanned the cork lines. Not a lot of splashing going on, but hanging over a sandbar
had
to be where the fish were. Salmon liked shallow water and her lead lines were sitting on the bottom. The net had already been soaking longer than she normally preferred. She’d been hoping the sandbar would produce a net full of fish, but no sign of white fire.

There weren’t many fishing days left. While she wouldn’t call this season a bust—she had made expenses—it sure hadn’t lived up to the bumper year she’d hoped. All she’d gained this year by drifting
and
set netting was more work, less sleep, and too many enemies. She shook her head. She wasn’t defeated yet. There was still time and salmon left to catch. She’d turn this season around. Damned if she wouldn’t.

She’d given the net enough time. If it hadn’t caught any fish, it was time to find another fishing hole. “All right, guys,” she hollered to her crew. “Let’s reel her in.”

She engaged the hydraulics. Peter grabbed the end of the lead lines as the net came over the front rollers, and secured it to the cork line and reel. The reel groaned, and Sonya added more power.

Silver flashing tails and fins flapped over the rollers in a heap of writhing fishermen’s currency.

Wes let out a holler.

“Hot damn,” Peter added as the salmon-laden net slid slowly over the rollers.

Excitement shot like a sexual thrill through her middle. Hot damn was right. The fish had been caught on the lead lines, which was why there hadn’t been a lot of splashing.

The tide still hadn’t turned, which meant if they were quick, they could get another chance at cleaning up the sandbar. “Guys, you’ll need to pick and round-haul that net in as fast as you can so we can get it back in the water.” With Garrett aboard, they’d be strictly adhering to each and every blasted rule.

She’d stumbled across one sweet fishing hole.

Peter scrambled for he knew what work lay ahead. This haul meant a lot to him too. Garrett was going to wish he’d remained on the
Calypso
after today. Peter motioned for Garrett to take the lead lines, while he chose the corks. Sonya couldn’t help but feel proud.

She blasted the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ USA” for Garrett over the speakers. Wes went to relieve Garrett for a spell. Garrett leaned back and wiped his forehead. He looked up at her sitting snug and comfortable in the pilot house. A smile spilt his face, and Sonya realized, with surprise, that the fish cop was enjoying himself.

As the afternoon progressed, they proceeded to pull in net after net stocked to the gills with fish. Sonya knew it would be a record catch for them this year, if not their best ever. All the fish they’d caught today was pure, sweet profit. Somehow it was made all the sweeter having Garrett a part of it.

She needed to decide what to do about him. The more he integrated himself into her life, the more she liked him there.

Could she be ready for more? She was beginning to believe so.

But what about him?

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY

They’d tendered the fish and were proudly flying the broom.

It was the largest catch to be recorded in the Savonskis’ fishing history. Her crew was tired, but riding high on accomplishment. They’d tied up to the cannery’s dock, and Sonya decided to treat her hard-working crew to pizza from the Pitt. They deserved it. She’d sent Peter after the pizza, leaving Wes to watch the boat, while she headed for the showers. Garrett insisted on shadowing her. By the smell of him, he could benefit from a good cleansing too.

Garrett grabbed her elbow. “I need to stop at the General Store. I’m out of soap.”

She lifted her backpack that held her showering supplies. “I’ve got soap.”

“Unless you share a shower with me, I’ll need a bar of my own. Besides, I’m sure your soap smells like flowers.” He wrinkled his nose. “While I love your smell, not the manly scent I’m after.”

She sniffed him and quickly adverted her nose. “Flowers would immensely improve your stench.”

“Stench?” He held open the door to the General Store for her and then followed her over the threshold. “I hate to break it to you, babe, but you don’t smell all that fresh right now, either.”

She glared at him in mock anger. “What a thing to say.”

“Just speakin’ the truth, ma’am.”

“That truth you can swallow.”

“Well, well,” Davida commented. “Aren’t you two getting along like two bears in the woods. Heard you’ve switched sides of the line, Garrett. How you like fishing?”

“I like it fine, Davida.” Garrett didn’t take his eyes from Sonya as he admitted it. She felt herself flush from under the heat of his gaze.

Davida cleared her throat, and Garrett glanced from Sonya to her. “I also heard about your troubles, Sonya. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Davida.”

“In your network of news,” Garrett said, “have you heard anything about Roland Harte’s whereabouts?”

“Nope, not a peep. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.” Davida nodded and then got down to business. “So what can I get you two?”

“Soap, shampoo,” he scratched his raspy, stubbled jaw, “razor, and shaving cream, if you’ve got them, and that item I had you special order if it’s here.”

Davida smiled. “It’s your lucky day. It arrived on the morning flight. Give me a minute to rustle it all up.”

“What’d you order?” Sonya asked, her curiosity piqued.

“You’ll see.” His grin was that of a man who had a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

“Here you are, Garrett.” Davida packed all the items he’d asked for in a bag and then did a quick glance around to see who was watching. She must have deemed the area clear for she reached into the freezer behind her and quickly pulled out a pint of ice cream.

Sonya gasped.
Haagen-Dazs black raspberry chip ice cream.

“You have a plastic spoon, Davida?” Garrett asked. “I don’t think Sonya’s going to be able to wait until we’re aboard the
Double Dippin’
.”

“Already ahead of you.” Davida produced the spoon and a couple of napkins.

Sonya took the spoon and the carton of ice cream Davida handed over as though the items were the most precious of objects. To her, they were. Her eyes felt suspiciously wet as she gazed at Garrett. “You got me ice cream?”

“It’s your favorite, right?” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me I ordered the wrong flavor.”

“No. Black raspberry chip is my favorite.” She knew how hard it was to get ice cream flown out here, and how high the expense. It was suddenly difficult to swallow as her throat clogged. “Thank you.” The words seemed inadequate for the level of gratitude she felt.

“You’re welcome.”

Davida rang up his purchases. “You tell Judd he needs to do something sweet for me like that. It’s not ice cream I want, though. I go weak in the knees for things that sparkle and fit snug—” she held out her ring finger “—right here.”

Garrett chuckled and picked up the bag of toiletries. “I’ll let him know.”

“You do that. I swear the man is denser than a wood boat,” Davida mumbled.

They left the General Store. Sonya hid the carton of ice cream from anyone passing by. The frozen treat was like contraband, and she wasn’t about to share it with anyone.

Garrett led her down the wooden boardwalk, ending at a hillside ablaze with blooming stalks of fireweed. She followed him up a rarely used trail until they were out of sight of any onlookers. Here, Garrett stomped out a place for her to sit amongst the flowering fireweed.

They sat, and she broke the seal over the pint. The first spoonful had her closing her eyes in ecstasy. The cool, sweet taste slid down her throat like a lover’s bold caress. The next spoonful Sonya offered up to Garrett. He didn’t say anything except to raise a brow in question. She brought the scoop up to his lips, wetting her own, as he opened his mouth. She slipped the spoon inside.

He closed his eyes and moaned, stirring the ice cream around his mouth with his tongue, before swallowing.

She badly needed to kiss him.

The plastic spoon lay forgotten in her fingers until Garrett took hold of it, scooping up another bite and offering it to her. She opened her mouth, and he slid the spoon between her lips. Tangy, rich raspberries and sinful, dark chocolate burst over her yearning taste buds. She opened her mouth for another bite, and he fed her, taking turns feeding himself. They didn’t speak, just shared, soaked up the heat of the late afternoon, as bees buzzed above their heads.

Most of the carton was consumed by the time Sonya lost the hold on her willpower and reached for Garrett, bringing his mouth down to hers. He tasted like her favorite treat, his lips cold from the ice cream, which quickly heated beneath the friction of hers. He gave a guttural moan and leaned his body over hers, laying her amongst the fragrant fireweed and grasses. She reveled in his embrace and wished she had him to herself. In the distance, voices mixed with the sounds of heavy equipment. Screen doors slammed, tires squealed, and a dog barked.

“Damn, Sonya.” Garrett pulled back and stared into her eyes. “I’m going to need a cold shower after that kiss.”

He wasn’t the only one. She reached up and fingered his bandage. “How’s your head?”

“Believe me. I’m feeling no pain right now.” He gave her a crooked grin. “At least, no pain in my head.”