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Coast Guard Courtship
Lisa Carter
A Seaside RomanceCoast Guard Officer Braeden Scott's life is all about freedom and adventure. Being assigned to a tiny Virginia coastal village is the last thing he wants. But thanks to a feisty redhead, he's soon discovering the charms of a small-town life. Amelia Duer is all about home and hearth. Taking care of others is her whole world. As Braeden spends more time with her and her nephew, his hopes for a family begin to resurface. Could Amelia prove to be the anchor this charming Coastie needs to stop wandering and create a home for good?Coast Guard Officer Braeden Scott's life is all about freedom and adventure. Being assigned to a tiny Virginia coastal village is the last thing he wants. But thanks to a feisty redhead, he's soon discovering the charms of a small-town life. Amelia Duer is all about home and hearth. Taking care of others is her whole world. As Braeden spends more time with her and her nephew, his hopes for a family begin to resurface. Could Amelia prove to be the anchor this charming Coastie needs to stop wandering and create a home for good?
A Seaside Romance
Coast Guard Officer Braeden Scott’s life is all about freedom and adventure. Being assigned to a tiny Virginia coastal village is the last thing he wants. But thanks to a feisty redhead, he’s soon discovering the charms of a small-town life. Amelia Duer is all about home and hearth. Taking care of others is her whole world. As Braeden spends more time with her and her nephew, his hopes for a family begin to resurface. Could Amelia prove to be the anchor this charming Coastie needs to stop wandering and create a home for good?
“What have you got against redheads?” Amelia asked him.
“Redheads are nothing but trouble.” Braeden cocked his head at the grappling hook in her hands.
She curled her lip. “By the way, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For saving your life.”
His mouth dropped open. “You didn’t…”
She pointed at the doughnut lying against the baseboard that he had been choking on minutes before.
He tightened his lips. “Thanks for saving my life, Ms. Duer.”
“Don’t mention it.”
A bleak expression suddenly appearing in her eyes, she rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. “Dinner’s at six. I’ll see you then?”
“Eighteen-hundred. I’ll be there.”
“Don’t expect haute cuisine.” She cut her eyes at him, a challenge animating her face once more. “The redheaded Duers are plain and simple folks.”
As she exited the cabin, he watched her disappear through the cover of trees. So that was Amelia Duer.
Tough as a sea barnacle. She’d have made a great Guardsman. He admired her strength, her ability to take care of anything life threw her way.
But who took care of her?
LISA CARTER and her family make their home in North Carolina. In addition to her Love Inspired novels, she writes romantic suspense for Abingdon Press. When she isn’t writing, Lisa enjoys traveling to romantic locales, teaching writing workshops and researching her next exotic adventure. She has strong opinions on barbecue and ACC basketball. She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Lisa at lisacarterauthor.com (http://lisacarterauthor.com).
Coast Guard
Courtship
Lisa Carter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
—Romans 15:13
Dedicated to the memory of Mathew Mason.
You are missed.
And to Cindy—Thanks for sharing
that Eastern Shore summer with me so long ago.
I love you.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_0e04d822-0199-506d-a7f3-d5277b7cb73c)
I’ve taken a few liberties with the Accomack County school calendar— allowing Max to get out for summer early— something for which all Accomack County teachers can thank me for later.
Thanks to all my Onley friends who, after all these years, still continue to welcome me back into the peaceful harbor of your beautiful Eastern Shore world.
Many thanks to retired United States Coast Guard Captain Jim Umberger and Chief Petty Officer NyxoLyno “Nick” Cangemi for answering this civilian’s seemingly endless questions about rank, rating and protocol. You guys are the best. Any errors are my own.
Thanks also to men and women of the United States Coast Guard for your dedication and sacrifice. Blessings to you who serve on CG vessels and at CG stations. Thank you for your service.
Miss Jean and Mr. Billy, thanks for sharing your heart, home and family with me again and again over these many years. You have been a tremendous blessing in my life.
Contents
Cover (#u37f3557e-a394-5dc2-80d3-c5631fea051a)
Back Cover Text (#u4a91d9b1-2f63-5f46-a53d-88fabda8fced)
Introduction (#u45a96c08-55a9-50cf-88f0-6ffdf903915b)
About the Author (#u4c8493fb-1010-569d-a3ee-e6151ac0a39d)
Title Page (#u4b96650a-4ca1-5b14-9f71-782e273d5079)
Bible Verse (#ue0c48a9b-89cf-5fec-86d7-f486feb2d3ef)
Dedication (#ua399bad6-df8c-5481-b544-680dcf566d9a)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_87b3f889-31d7-5b8d-859c-f046af11add2)
Chapter One (#ulink_306968bc-39ab-5730-a057-c4e8b79d856c)
Chapter Two (#ulink_c005427a-8ba8-5bd7-bc69-bfad1ddd9969)
Chapter Three (#ulink_e6647fd7-8f3e-5273-ab37-ff024b29ca49)
Chapter Four (#ulink_5c14e796-f88d-515b-8252-674eb2555c41)
Chapter Five (#ulink_2581e59a-2269-56ae-9251-f6586df78a8c)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_8272e734-fe48-56a9-b68f-74d0173b38af)
Bone weary after sitting up half the night with Max, Amelia closed her eyes with a sigh. The gentle blue-green waters of the tidal creek lapped against the sides of her small fishing boat. Rocked her in the soothing cradle of the waves she’d known since birth.
She savored the silence broken only by the skritching of the sand crabs on the nearby barrier island. A breeze wafted past her nose, smelling of sea salt and brine. She’d hurried this cold April morning for the chance to anchor in the crystal cove overlooking her favorite spot among the ruins of the deserted coastal village.
Amelia loved her family, her life, her home. And especially her motherless nephew, Max. But sometimes she craved the isolation of this forgotten shore. Here in the rhythm of the tide, where God most often rejuvenated her soul, she could be just Amelia.
She’d stolen this opportunity to photograph the migratory birds in their yearly stopover on the barrier island. Images she’d transfer to her sketch pad while her charter boat clients fished during the upcoming flounder season.
Amelia had spent most of her life fishing and swimming in these waters. But Max hadn’t. It’d be July before the water truly warmed. And her five-year-old nephew wasn’t robust enough for even the shallow drifts of the channel.
Gripping the camera strapped about her neck, she scanned the marsh for signs of life. She peered through the cordgrass across the channel that separated the wildlife refuge from her home on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. The air hung thick with early-morning fog snaking above the dark waters of the wetlands.
Amelia’s hand caught hold of the railing of the Now I Sea as a gust of the ever-present wind buffeted her against the side of the boat. Beyond the dunes on the other side of the island, ocean waves churned. Churned like her thoughts these days about what the doctor’s report would say. About whether she and Max had another summer ahead of them to comb the beach for sea glass.
Or if time had run out.
A gaggle of birds darted upward, cawing to each other. She jerked. Her eyes swept over the rotting stumps of the island dock and the long-abandoned husks of boats moldering on the beach. She gazed across the remaining stone foundations on the sandy rise. Like the village, she’d suffered so many losses.
Please, God, not Max. Whatever You want from me, I’ll do. Just please don’t take Max, too.
Her Wellingtons squelched on the fiberglass deck as she padded over to the controls. She gripped the helm and, turning the ignition, brought the engine to life. Above the chugging of the motor, she pointed the bow once more toward her home in Kiptohanock. To where chores awaited, where Dad needed reminding to take his medicine, where Honey needed to be straightened out about returning to college next fall. And since Amelia’s fiancé, Jordan, had died, back to the bleakness of her own possibilities.
She cast one final glance over her shoulder as the barrier island receded. One fine summer day she and Max would return here. Fourth of July, maybe. They’d have a picnic. Hunt for shells. And she’d paint the landscape to her heart’s content while Max ran up and down the dunes. Happy, healthy. Whole.
One fine day... God willing. She lifted her chin and headed home.
* * *
Borne aloft on the prevailing winds, seagulls whirled in graceful figure eights above the cab of his truck. Braeden Scott kneaded the wheel, glancing out the window over the railing of the bridge, where the Chesapeake Bay sparkled like glittering diamonds in the sunshine. He gazed upward at one lone bird whose shadow hovered above his windshield.
“Just so long as you don’t—”
Splat.
Great. Story of his life.
“And welcome to the Eastern Shore of Virginia to you, too, my friend.” He grimaced at the whitish excrement dotting his windshield.
His Ford F-250 bumped and jolted over the last hump of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, which spanned the watery distance between Virginia Beach and the Delmarva peninsula composed of parts of Virginia, Maryland and Delaware. A string of islands, shoals and spits dotted the ocean side. An archipelago, he’d been told, of uninhabited isles.
At one point in a narrow stretch along Highway 13 heading north, he sighted the bay to his left and the Atlantic on his right. Leaving Northampton County and the signs for Coast Guard Station Cape Charles behind, he crossed into Accomack County. A few miles later, he veered off the main artery at Nassawadox toward Seaside Road, per Seth Duer’s instructions.
Passing fields, barns and farmhouses, he crossed the small bridge at Quinby. He skirted the hamlet of Wachapreague, hugging the shoreline, and headed toward the coastal village of Kiptohanock. He’d report for duty tomorrow to the officer in charge at the small boat station.
He drove around the village square occupied by a cupola-topped gazebo. Not much to the fishing village. A post office. A white-steepled clapboard church. Victorian homes meandered off side lanes lined with beginning-to-leaf-out trees.
So this was Kiptohanock...
Braeden steered the nose of his truck into an empty parking slot designed for vehicles towing boats. He threw open the cab door and got out. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the marina with its aging pier, the bait store, the Sandpiper Café and the boat repair shop where he’d meet Seth and get the key to his rental. Coast Guard Station Kiptohanock hunkered just across the parking lot, with rapid-response boats tied and at the ready on an adjacent dock.
Not exactly like his last digs in Station Miami. Or even Kodiak before that.
Braeden slammed the cab door shut to silence its dinging. He consoled himself with the promise that this smaller, isolated CG station was a chance to grow his leadership skills and continue the stellar trajectory his career had been on since he’d enlisted in the United States Coast Guard a dozen years ago. A matter of killing time here before rotating out to bigger assignments.
