by Elle Viviani
“I’m not arguing semantics with you,” she says crossly. “Do we have a deal?”
“A deal?”
“You get to go to Maine this summer and dodge all my parties…”
“I’m not dodging anything.”
“…and then you’ll agree to go on a few more dates.”
I clench my teeth. Yup. Didn’t fool her one bit.
“Dear?”
“I’m here,” I grit out. So I get a few months away from my prying mom and her incessant interest in my love life for a few more blind dates this fall. Honestly, I don’t think I was ever going to win this fight. Charlene is on a mission— to get me a man—and I’m finding out the hard way that it’s more exhausting to fight back than play along.
“Deal,” I grumble.
“I can’t understand you when you mumble.”
“Deal.”
“Splendid! Well, I’ll let you go. Say hello to Maddison for me.”
I hang up and hurl my phone onto the couch, my body following soon after. I bury my head into the itchy polyester throw pillows my mother picked out and let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Charlene won that round. Like all the others. At least my three months in Maine will be date-free. I won’t have any awkward, forced interactions up there with boring, self-entitled, soft men. It’ll just be me, my grandparents, and the quiet town of Portland.
I flip over, lace my fingers behind my head, and smile up at the ceiling. That sounds like heaven right about now.
4
Koa
“Knock, knock,” I call through the screen door. There’s some shuffling down the hall by the kitchen before Captain comes around the corner.
“Come in, son!” He waves me through the door with his good arm, nearly swinging it into the wall.
“Should you be moving around so much? It’s only been a week.”
“Don’t you sound like Jane.” He leads me into the living room and flips on the TV. “Here to watch the game? They’re playing the Yankees tonight.”
“I’m not, but I’ll gladly watch the Red Sox steamroll New York.” I head for the kitchen. “Can I get you anything from the fridge?”
“A beer,” he says, the light banter of the pre-game show hosts filling the air as he finds ESPN.
I pause in the doorway. “Are you allowed to—”
“A BEER.”
“You got it!” I hustle over to the fridge, grab two cold ones, and book it back to the couch. “So, uh, how’s bedrest treating you?”
“Lousy. Man gets a little bump on the head and a broken arm and suddenly the world is reduced to your bed and bathroom. And then Jane’s been feeding me weird things that she promises will ‘help my recovery,’ whatever that means.” He looks at me. “It’s a broken arm, not the flu.”
“I’m sure that’s frustrating.” Actually, it sounds kinda nice. A day in bed with someone force-feeding you healthy meals? I could use a day like that after the seventy-hour week I just pulled.
“Sweet potatoes…”
“Sir?”
“She’s feeding me sweet potatoes!” he cries, flailing his good arm around. Unfortunately, it’s also the one with the beer.
“Sorry to hear that, sir,” I say, dodging droplets of Yuengling.
“And something weird called KEEN-wa.” He shudders, sending the lager sloshing around in its bottle again.
“Come on, quinoa’s not that bad. It’s a grain, or a seed…” I frown. “Maybe a vegetable?”
He scowls at me. “Whatever the hell it is, it’s nasty stuff. Don’t eat it, even if it supposedly heals broken bones.” He settles back down into the sofa with a grunt. “I’ll tell you, Koa, I miss the water already.”
“It’ll be there when you get back.”
“That’s what Jane keeps saying.” He sits up and snaps his head toward me. “How are things going? How’s our first week been?”
“That’s what I came by to talk to you about, sir.”
He shakes his head. “Enough of this “sir” business. You’re captain now.”
I shift in my seat. “Then what do you want me to call you?”
“Gerry?”
An awkward pause follows, filled only with the commentator’s score predications. There’s no way I can call this man by his given name.
“…or Captain’s fine.”
I relax. Captain I can do.
“Now, tell me about this week.”
And suddenly I’m tense again. “Our first week wasn’t great, s—Captain.”
“What? Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve pulled ten-hour days, hit all the right spots, coordinated your boats to not overfish an area. We’re just not getting the haul I thought we would, especially after that catch last week.”
Captain scratches his jaw. “I doubt it’s anything you’ve done. Maybe it’s more like what you can’t do?”
“Sir?” I say, slipping back to habit.
“Don’t go getting upset, I’m not saying your abilities are lacking, but you’re one man. A captain needs a first mate, or at least a sternman. Have you hired anyone?”
I spread my hands out. “Haven’t had time.”
“I get that, but this is important. You can’t do this yourself. You need someone to bounce ideas off of, keep you sharp, watch your back.” He purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “I’ll find someone for you.”
“Really?”
“Of course! I know what I’m looking for and I’ve got the time now, don’t I?”
I shrug. “Well, thanks. Have anyone in mind?”
“Not yet. Most men who fit the bill are employed or have boats of their own.” He sits back and takes a long pull on his Yuengling. “I think I’ll ask Jane when she gets back from the airport. She always knows about these kinds of things.”
“Expecting company?”
I’m startled when his entire face lights up. “I didn’t tell you? My granddaughter is coming up for the summer!”
“Oh, well, uh…” I struggle for the right response. By the way he’s beaming, it’s like the Pope’s stopping by for tea. “Congratulations?”
“It’s a bid deal since my daughter’s family doesn’t visit often—although we don’t get down to Manhattan much either. But anyway, my granddaughter’s coming up to help us while this arm’s broke, and she’ll be here three whole months. Though I’m sure a city gal like her will be bored in a few weeks.” He stops and studies me with a frown. “She’s about your age, I should think. Twenty-four?”
“Try adding three years.”
Captain shrugs it off. “That’s nothing. Well, hey, you’d be doing me a huge favor if you show her around town, introduce her to people. You know, show her that Portland’s a cool and hip place.”
I stifle my laugh. Bless the man, he’s trying. “I’d be happy to,” I say, though I’m not sure if I’ll be able to follow through on my promise. First of all, Portland is cool and hip, but I’m not into that scene. I’m more afraid of a bar full of hipsters than getting caught in a tropical storm. And second, I doubt I’d have anything to offer a twenty-something New Yorker. Last time I checked, “lobster fisherman” wasn’t trending.
He gives me a grateful look. “Thanks, sonny. You might have met her once or twice. She was up here about five years ago with her sister and parents.”
I definitely remember their last visit. The Raes are a hard family to forget. From what I’ve gathered over the years, the Boothe’s only child had met some monied, big-deal surgeon in Manhattan and never went back home to Rhode Island. Then the Boothes moved to Maine, widening the gap between them and their daughter. I guess I don’t really remember the parents, exactly, just the sleek Mercedes they drove up in when they visited the harbor to check out Captain’s “adorable boats.”
But I do remember their daughter. She was gorgeous. Light blonde hair, honey-brown eyes, legs for days. If that daughter’s coming to town, I’m more than happy to help.
“I thi
nk I remember her,” I say slowly. “Nancy or Nellie?”
Captain shakes his head. “You mean Nora, my eldest granddaughter. I’m talking about my sweet little Summer. She would’ve been halfway through college when you met her.”
I think back, trying to remember another daughter that day on the docks. Again, only images of the beautiful Nora float through my mind…
Oh, wait. Now I remember another girl, the one that was quietly hiding in the background as her family surveyed the boats. She was a skinny, gangly thing with too much eyeliner and too little personality.
I shift uncomfortably on the sofa. Can’t say I’m thrilled with getting stuck with Sleeping Beauty’s forgotten sister, but I’m also not worried anymore. I’ll just show her around a few hipster bars and then forget about her.
Captain grabs the remote and turns up the volume. “Game’s about to star—”
“Hello!” two voices cry in unison from the hallway.
Captain flings down the remote and jumps to his feet. He grabs his beer off the end table and shoves it into my free hand. “This is yours, son. I never took a sip!”
“Gerry?” Jane calls as she rounds the corner. She takes one look at the two beers in my hands and turns to her husband. “Are you doing something that I’d disapprove of?”
“And what might that be, dear?” he asks innocently, stepping forward to place a wet kiss on her cheek. “Just two men watching the game, that’s all.”
“I can smell the beer on your breath.”
Captain stares at her, then turns on his heel and strides down the hall. “Where’s that granddaughter of mine?”
I shrug as Jane focuses her displeasure on me. “He’s impossible to argue with, you said so yourself.”
The voices down the hall get louder, and soon I can pick out a lighter voice sprinkled in with Captain’s low tones. “…it was fine,” the young woman says as they round the corner. She has her arm on Captain’s as she smiles up at him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here for you, remember?”
I know I only have a few moments before she spots me, so I take advantage of every second. Summer may be Sleeping Beauty’s forgotten sister, but she’s definitely related. Wavy, light blonde hair grazes her toned shoulders as she looks up at Captain, her golden-brown eyes crease as she smiles. They’re framed behind black-rimmed glasses, giving her an intelligent, down-to-earth vibe that I find ridiculously sexy. And her legs…
I drag my eyes up and down them, following the long curve of her thigh over her knee and down her sculpted calf. They go on forever in those frayed Daisy Dukes.
But the main difference between this version of Summer and the gangly teenager I remember is her body. Gone is the skinny, sullen girl, and in her place, an alluring woman with soft curves and beautiful features. Looks like Summer’s grown up.
“I’m just so happy to—” she stops as she notices me on the couch. Her eyes glance over me before widening. “Oh.”
Jane steps forward with a smile. “This is Koa Rendell, the captain of your grandpa’s fleet. And this is my granddaughter, Summer Rae.”
I stand up and slowly make my way toward her. She’s even prettier up close. High cheekbones, dark eyelashes, rose-pink lips. “Pleased to meet you,” I murmur, taking her soft hand in mine. Her neck turns bright pink as she mutters a quick hello. She snatches back her hand and ducks her head as the blush creeps up to her face.
“I’m glad you two are meeting,” Captain says, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “Koa’s kindly agreed to show you around town, my dear. Show you what Portland’s got to offer a young gal like yourself.”
“Him? Me?” Summer takes a nervous breath. “But I barely know him.”
“It’ll be fun,” Captain says, glancing between the two of us with growing unease. He shoots his wife a worried look. “Right?”
Jane doesn’t answer at first, she’s too busy watching her granddaughter die from embarrassment. Her eyes dart to me before focusing on her husband. “Oh, I think it’s a wonderful idea, Gerry.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Told you so! You two can try out the new restaurants and bars, maybe even a concert or two? I think a Journey tribute band is coming to town in July.”
Summer’s face is firetruck red as she watches her summer evaporate before her eyes, and I’m right there with her. This woman’s smoking hot, but I’m not about to be saddled with a pampered city girl for the next three months. I’ve got more important things to do, like make our season’s quota and refurbish an eighteen-foot sailboat.
“I should be going,” I interrupt just as Captain mentions some flea market outside of town. Yeah, not interested. “I should run the numbers and see how much we need to make up this week.”
That snaps Captain out of playing Mr. Social Calendar. “Right, I’ll walk you out,” he mutters, motioning me toward the hall. “Tell me, are you using both nets and pots? Because maybe it’s time to…”
I glance over my shoulder at Summer one more time before we turn the corner. She’s still standing there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as saucers, as we silently sum each other up. She looks nervous as hell at the thought of being glued to my hip all summer.
Don’t worry about it, honey. You get one day, and then I’m back on the water with the salty wind in my face and a knotted line in my hands.
5
Summer
I’m not totally sure how this happened. I thought Maine was going to be filled with long walks on the beach and ice cream on the back porch with Gran and Gramps and the occasional trip to the doctor’s office…
And it still promised to be all of those things, except that a brawny, ridiculously handsome seaman is being dangled in front of me like a worm on a hook. And yes, to answer your question, I am a very hungry fish. He may not have a flannel shirt and log cabin, but he checks off every other darn box on my list. In short, Koa Rendell is my living fantasy.
So basically I’m screwed. I came up here to get away from men, only to walk into a divine specimen my first day here. What was he even doing in my grandparents’ living room, anyway? I know he works for Gramps, but don’t they do business in, like, business places?!
But that question got answered pretty quickly. After that mortifying encounter with Mr. Hunky, I quickly found out that my grandparents consider Koa to be family. He calls my Gran “Grandma Jane,” he comes over for dinner once a week, and he always brings my Gramps fishing updates in person. It’s cute, really, how kindly Koa treats my grandparents. Until you remember the tiny, insignificant fact that this is exactly the thing I was hoping to avoid.
I’m also quickly finding out that Koa has this very annoying, very unfortunate effect on me. I can’t seem to control my bodily response around him.
What do I mean by this? I mean that I’ve never blushed so much in MY LIFE, that I constantly want to jump him and rip off his clothes, and all I do is fantasize about his rough hands getting intimately acquainted with my body. This happens every time Koa’s around me, which as you’ve no doubt noticed, is going to be a lot this summer since my grandparents have appointed him as my cruise ship director.
I wanted to sit my grandparents down and explain that I’m actually happiest with a book or walking on the beach or going for a bike ride. Basically, doing things alone. But I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. They seemed thrilled that I’ll be hanging out with someone my own age, and I didn’t want to burst their bubble with the news that I don’t need people to have fun. That I actually find lots of social activities, huge gatherings, and meeting lots of new people quite exhausting.
So, as I hitch my bike up to the rack in front of a trendy-looking coffeeshop on Main Street, you can imagine why I’m dreading the next four hours. Koa’s inside, waiting to show me “how cool and hip Portland is.”
My Gramps’s words, not mine. Ahh-dorable.
It takes me two seconds to spot him among the friend-dates and Mac-toting students. Whereas most hipsters spend hours and a lot of
time trying to look ruggedly offbeat, Koa does it effortlessly. I think it helps that Koa is rugged and offbeat. He’s wearing dark jeans, a tattered pair of Sperry’s (that have actually touched a boat), and a wristwatch with a wide leather band. And there’s that damn flannel shirt. It was the only thing missing from my wish list, and there it is…rolled up to display his tanned, hairy forearms…in June.
Only in Maine.
A dark beard, permanently windswept hair, and a slight sunburn complete the look. I can feel the blush already building as I make my way over to my fantasy-come-to-life. I stop in front of his table and mutter out a hello.
He looks up from his phone and does a double take. “You’re not wearing your glasses.”
I blink back at him, totally taken off guard by that opening line. “Oh, yeah. I usually only travel with them. Why?”
He shrugs. “I liked them.” My blush deepens as he stashes away his phone. “What do you want?” he asks, hopping up. “It’s on me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He brushes my protests aside with his hand. “Welcome to Portland.”
The blush fades slightly at his easygoing manner. He’s a lot nicer than I thought he’d be, though I didn’t really know what to expect from a seasoned fisherman. “Thanks… I’ll buy you a coffee if you make it to New York.”
“That may never happen,” he mutters, stepping in line.
“Really?”
“I’m not into big cities, and New York is massive.”
“I get it. A lot of people have that reaction to my city.”
He snorts. “Let me guess, born and raised in Manhattan?”
“Even went to Columbia.”
Another snort.
Huh. Maybe not so nice…? “What’s the problem with living in New York?”
“It’s not that, it’s the idea of being in one place your whole life. Don’t you want to travel? See the world?”
“Of course I do, and I have traveled. It’s just my family lives in New York, and so do all my friends.” We reach the front and give our orders. An iced green tea for me and iced coffee for him. “Where did you grow up, then?”