Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (5 page)

Sonya skewered a hotdog with her stick. “Let’s keep it between us. It’ll just swell his head.”

Grams laughed and handed her a plate with a serving of baked beans, potato salad, canned fruit cocktail, and a bun just how she liked it, smothered with relish and mustard. “You want onions with that?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Not tonight.”

“He does look like he knows how to make a woman’s toes curl.”

“
Grams.”

“I’m not so old that I don’t appreciate a fine looking man.”

Sonya took her plate and went back to Garrett. She set her plate between them. Better to be on the safe side. This attraction was coming on too hot. Needed to cool it down. A glance at Aidan glaring at the two of them reminded her of what happened when she didn’t take time to think.

“So, where you from, Garrett?” she asked. Best way to start thinking was to begin finding out information. The man could be married for heaven sakes. Though she doubted it. He didn’t have that “caught” look about him.

“Presently, Homer.”

“Homer’s nice. Scenic. Some great halibut fishing to be had.”

“It’s that all right.” A shadow crossed over his features. He pointed to her hotdog sizzling in the fire. “Might want to pull that back.”

“I like them blistered.” She rotated her dog and then asked, “Married?”

“No.” He coughed. “You?”

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?” He nodded his head toward Aidan.

“No boyfriend. You?”

“No boyfriend, either.” He smiled and her insides fluttered.

So much for cooling things down.

Her hotdog caught fire.

Dinner with the Savonskis was proving to be a welcome amusement. Garrett had been all work and definitely no play for far too long. It had been a long time since he’d felt this quickening of his pulse and heating of his blood. His relationship with Mel had been more friendly than frenzy. They’d used each other to scratch an itch when the need arose. Looking at Sonya, he felt more than an itch rising.

The fire had died down to a comfortable level. It was doing a good job of keeping the bugs at bay since the breeze had lulled. The sun hung steady on the horizon despite the late hour.

The sea hugged the shore as though content, but Garrett knew the calm surface belied the activity going on beneath as millions of salmon made the run up the rivers for spawning. The fishermen would be churning up the waters trying to catch them come tomorrow morning’s high tide.

“Sonya,” Nikolai said. “Maggie May wants to hear you play something.”

“Gramps, I don’t have my—”

Nikolai waved his hand. “Not to worry. I had Peter run and get it.”

Peter smiled as he handed her an instrument case he’d stashed behind the log he’d been sitting on. “Here you go, Ducky.”

Sonya narrowed her eyes, which seemed to promise retribution, and she took the case. Garrett wondered briefly over the nickname.

“If I have to play, so do you,” Sonya said.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t have my drums.”

“I’m sure you can find something to beat on.”

“The cooler’s empty,” Nikolai said. “It’ll make a good sound.” He thumped it for emphasis.

“Yes, Peter. Please, I’ve never heard you play,” Lana said, her voice sweet and bright much like her blond cheerleader good looks.

Peter’s cheeks pinked and he picked up the cooler, trying his hand at it. He sat, positioning the cooler between his legs. “Ready, whenever you are.”

Sonya stood, opened the case, and picked up a violin, checking it for tune. She looked at Garrett. “Sorry about this. Gramps likes to show us off.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m enjoying myself.”

Sonya nodded at Peter and positioned the violin under her chin. “Try and keep up.” She strung the bow across the strings. It vibrated and sang with a voice of its own. The music she chose to play was a lively Celtic tune, and when Peter joined in with the beat of the cooler-drum, Garrett swore the flames of the fire flickered in time to the tune.

Here he was at a fish camp roast on the South Naknek side of Bristol Bay, much closer to Russia than the continental United States, with sand all around, gray cliffs towering over them, and the world’s deadliest ocean at their backs. Not a theatre or opera house for three hundred miles, and he was being treated to a first class violin performance. He was captivated by Sonya’s fingers as they danced over the chords, her hand commanding the bow as it stroked sound from the strings. Her hands would be picking fish out of a net come morning, yet tonight they brought forth music.

The woman had facets.

She finished with a flourish, her hair having come loose as she’d lost her ball cap with the fiery way she’d played. Her hair was dark and thick, longer than he’d first expected.

“Another,” Nikolai requested. “Something sweet for my Maggie May.”

Sonya gave the violin a slow caress of the bow, and Garrett felt the notes loosen something inside him. Nikolai rose and reached out a hand for Margaret, and she gracefully stepped into his arms. They swayed over the sand to the haunting music Sonya aroused from the strings. Peter sat this one out and let Sonya entrance the group. The music was potent, passionate, hypnotic.

And Garrett was snared.

Sonya laid the violin lovingly back in its case. Her emotions were heightened whenever she played. The treasured violin had been her mother’s. She always felt connected to her on a spiritual plane whenever she coaxed a tune from the instrument. It didn’t matter if she played for a group, like tonight, or alone. Something about the music beckoned and bewitched.

“That was amazing,” Garrett said. “Can you play another?”

“Better not,” she replied, her voice too breathless for her liking. She cleared her throat. “Fishing tomorrow.” They should be calling a halt to this evening anyway. They all needed their rest for their first day of drifting.

“Hey, Sonya. We forgot the makings for s’mores. Run up to the cabin and get them, will you?” Gramps asked, followed by, “Garrett, why don’t you give her a hand?”

Sonya closed her eyes. What was Gramps trying to do?

“I’d be happy to.” Garrett rose to his feet.

Sonya took the violin with her, and Garrett followed. They didn’t talk on the climb to the cabin.

The cabin was shadowed when they entered. Sonya laid her violin on the table, and lit a candle to find the smore ingredients. The strong smell of sulfur dioxide from the match tainted the air and seemed to enclose the space, making it a touch too romantic with the burning candle.

“Nice place,” Garrett commented, looking around. “You’re pretty set up considering you’re only here a couple of months every summer.”

“Gramps likes to do for Grams.” She opened the cupboard and took down the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars.

“It’s nice that he’s still courting her after all the years they’ve been together.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right. He does court her.” The man was perceptive to pick up on that. She wondered what else he was good at. Sonya started to bundle the ingredients into her arms.

“Here, let me help with that. After all—” he smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes “—wasn’t that why Nikolai asked me to come along?”

Her matchmaking grandpa hoped something else would happen between them. Sonya handed the goods to Garrett and then thought,
what the hell
. “Why don’t we get this out of the way?” With his hands occupied, she captured his face between hers, and kissed him.

Damn, his lips
were
as soft as they looked. It was the last coherent thought she had.

Garrett growled and yanked her flush against his chest. She heard the crunch of graham crackers beneath their feet and didn’t care. All she cared about was getting closer to him, which was probably physically impossible unless they lost some clothes. But she was willing to give it a go.

They broke apart as suddenly as they’d come together as though simultaneously realizing where the kiss was headed. It wasn’t the right time. Definitely not the right place.

“That was better than I thought it would be,” she said, her voice huskier than she’d like, and for a moment she didn’t recognize it as her own.

“That’s an understatement.” He leaned back against the counter, breathing deep. “Maybe it was a fluke.” He seemed to be talking to himself more than to her, as if trying to convince himself that what had just happened hadn’t really meant anything. She was all for agreeing with his argument. She didn’t want that kiss to mean anything either.

“Want to try it again?” she found herself asking. “You know—” she shrugged “—rule out the fluke factor?”

His eyes burned into hers, and he pushed himself away from the counter. She swallowed. He was big and imposing as he stepped toward her. Their bodies came into contact as his hands framed her face, diving deep into her hair and forcing her head back. He lowered his mouth until their breaths mixed, mated.

He paused, just before taking her mouth. “If I kiss you again, we won’t be leaving this cabin until after I get you naked.”

Damn, her toes
were
curling. She wished she could deny it. Just having him this close, she was ready and willing to forget the people down on the beach and strip. The problem with acting on impulse was that when she returned to sanity, she always regretted her actions. She didn’t know this man well enough to share herself with him. He didn’t know her either, and once men really got to know her, they usually begged off.

She tended to intimidate.

“Well—” she swallowed “—best not, then.” Her voice was breathless.

“It
would
be best,” he said, his voice just as breathless. He still hadn’t moved. Still held her as though he couldn’t break away. She hoped he wasn’t counting on her being the sensible one. She’d started this.

Slowly he let go of her and moved back. His step crunched, and he glanced down. “We might have a problem.”

A bigger problem than their raging hormones? She glanced down at the floor and couldn’t help but laugh. “This will be the last time Gramps sends me for dessert.”

“If he does send you again, I hope I’ll be along to help.” He looked at her with enough yearning to cause her to envision pushing him down on the table hand-made from driftwood planks. It seemed sturdy enough to hold their weight.

She took a deep breath. “We’d better get out of here.”

“Yep.” He glanced at the table as though knowing what she’d been contemplating.

They made their way back to the beach, after salvaging the best of the broken graham crackers and chocolate bars—the marshmallows showed no signs of damage—and sweeping up the rest of the mess. Too bad she couldn’t have swept Garrett’s kiss from her lips as easily. The crowd was still going strong when they reached the sand. Peter was doing a cooler-drum solo while the rest be-bopped along.

That was, all but Aidan.

“All right, finally, here are the goodies,” Wes announced. He had a wicked sweet tooth and was first to reach for the s’mores, opening the bag they’d stuffed everything into. He frowned. “What happened to the graham crackers?”