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Anderson.
The newbie swimmer whose high-profile jeopardized mission three months ago had put the air station on alert and prompted them to assign Dylan to Kodiak to prevent more mishaps.
Sure. The commander had fed Dylan a line or two to sweeten the raw deal he had no choice but to accept. Claimed they needed his expertise on these treacherous waters. Felt he could impart that knowledge to Anderson and rebuild the guy’s shaken confidence. Promised they’d approve Dylan’s transfer request after Anderson redeemed himself.
So now, three months in, the cocky FNG was interrupting his solo workout and challenging him? The hell with that.
Using his thigh muscles, he shot off after the greenhorn, his elbows jetting out of the water, his pointed fingers reaching, driving, cleaving through the pool. Feet and legs kicking powerfully behind him. His fatigue dropped away and he raced, pushing hard, until he caught up to Anderson on the third lap. They swam side by side for twenty minutes, then pulled up.
Anderson shook his head, sending droplets flying, and reached for the water bottle he’d left on the side of the pool. “Shit. Thought I had a chance of beating you since you’d been in here awhile.”
“I was just warming up, asshole.” Dylan drained the last of his own water.
“Heard about the Pacific Sun. Seven survivors.” Anderson whistled. “And they have that hot female captain, right? Is she single?”
“No,” Dylan said through his teeth. Nolee hadn’t mentioned her relationship status and, of course, it was no damn business of his whether or not she’d stayed with Craig. But even in Anderson’s wildest dreams, Nolee was out of his league.
“Hey!” Anderson threw out his hands as if to ward off the blow Dylan contemplated landing on him. “No offense.”
“Just keep it professional,” Dylan snapped, hating the surge of possessiveness he had no right to feel. That damn kiss had kicked off all the wrong instincts in his brain. “How was patrol?”
Anderson hopped up on the side of the pool and dangled his legs in the water. “Northern Lights set a string in restricted waters. They were already correcting it when we came upon them. No excitement.”
Dylan joined him and together they performed dips, lowering themselves, triceps flexing, into the pool, then pushing up again, and again. “You’ll get plenty more once I’m gone,” Dylan grunted as he repeated the move.
Now that Anderson was back in his fins with several successful rescues under his belt, and another swimmer had joined their SAR team as well, they could afford to approve Dylan’s transfer request. Despite the promise from the higher-ups, however, he knew better than to count on it until he saw the damn thing.
“You have leave coming, right?” asked Anderson through gritted teeth, a vein appearing at his temple as he muscled through this set of twenty.
“A month. After that, I’m hoping I get a new assignment.”
With this being an out-of-rotation-year move, he’d have to wait until a stateside RS position opened up.
“Can’t say I’ll miss you,” Anderson said before disappearing beneath the surface and shooting along the bottom for the underwater swim portion of the workout.
“Me, neither,” Dylan said to himself, thinking of Nolee, wondering if that were true.
Seeing her again messed with his mind, but she’d been right about one thing. He would seek out his family before he left Kodiak, just not the family she was thinking of. His parents had never had much use for him. His uncle, however, who’d nurtured his love of the sea, was on his list of people to see before he spent another decade away from Alaska. Dylan missed the old guy.
And, as an added benefit, spending a weekend with his uncle would ensure he wouldn’t be tempted to cross paths with Nolee anytime soon.
3 (#u4e77c8ca-1a5e-5f53-a738-345f52fe0fa6)
“SO YOU’LL GIVE me another chance?” Nolee leaned forward on one of The Outboard’s pub tables the following evening, nearly toppling a couple of the empty beer bottles littering its sticky surface. Restless energy tap-danced in her veins. Made the balls of her feet bounce.
Rick Dunham, one of Dunham Seafoods’s owners, signaled for another round, then shrugged.
“I’m considering it.” He raised his voice above the din of the chattering crowd that filled the Kodiak dive favored by local fishermen. He popped a pretzel into his mouth and shot her an assessing look as he crunched. “These are the best quota numbers we’ve ever received and we need to fill them.”
Over his shoulder, white lights blinked above a long, garland-wrapped bar where bearded men jockeyed for the best spot to watch the Seahawks game. A Christmas tree glowed red then green in the corner. Metal fishing lures dangled from its branches and reflected the light.
Rick’s partner and younger brother, Sam, whistled. “Four hundred K. That’s a lot of clams, eh?” He elbowed his brother. “Get it?” When Rick only glared at him, he continued. “But is she man enough for the job?”
“Of course,” Nolee insisted, keeping her voice firm. Squashing her doubts. Captains didn’t second-guess themselves. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. She needed this to happen.
A waitress appeared and slid three dark ales across the table, foam sloshing down their sides. She pocketed the credit card Rick handed her, then hustled off.
“Fish and Game gave us special permission to start fishing preseason.” Rick raised his glass and met Nolee’s eyes over the brim. “Now that’s wasted.”
Regret bit deep, but she kept her face impassive. She tightened her grip around the cool glass to hide the slight tremble in her fingers and the exhaustion she felt after her close call. She hadn’t expected the bout with hypothermia to take so much out of her, but she wasn’t about to back down from a second chance.
Something too damn rare in her world. “Pacific Dawn needs a lot of work,” Sam said, referring to another boat in their fleet. One in need of repairs, but possibly seaworthy with some elbow grease. He swiped foam off his moustache with the back of his hand while a cheer went up around a nearby pool table.
“I’m not afraid of hard work.” She swigged back the malt. The smooth, mellow taste dissolved on her tongue. She blinked gritty eyes. Ordered her aching muscles to relax. Moments ago she’d expected an ass-chewing (which she’d gotten, understandably), followed by a kick out the door. Now she might have another shot at her dream. She wouldn’t screw it up.
Rick gulped more beer, then lowered the half-drained drink to the table. “You’d need to bring her up to code before the regular season starts. That’s only twelve days.”
“No problem,” she said with more confidence than she felt, given she had no clue how much repairing the vessel needed. No matter what, she’d make it work.
Please give me this chance.
Sam jabbed a finger in her direction. “And we need that quota met.”
As did she. Rick and Sam didn’t need to spell out that her career was done if she mucked this up.
It was hard enough to become a captain, something she’d only done because Bill had taken her under his wing and taught her when he could. Yet even if she succeeded in getting to captain again, with a bad record she might have trouble getting a crew to sign on to work with her. She had to turn this around. No matter the odds, she had to take the gamble.
“I’ll top those tanks.”
“With crab this time, not water,” guffawed Sam, cracking himself up. Suddenly his smile fell and his thick eyebrows knitted. “No more screwups. Our insurance might cover one lost boat. Not two.”
A waitress bearing a steaming plate of chicken wings passed the table and dropped off their bill. Nolee’s nose twitched at the spicy aroma. How long since she’d eaten? Slept? She was used to the punishing mental and physical demands of each crab season. But the anxiety that’d dogged her every thought since she’d woken in the clinic, minus one ship and plus several unwanted feelings for a certain swimmer, had taken its toll.
Rick signed the slip and pocketed his pen. The flat line of his mouth suggested he wasn’t crazy about taking another chance on her. She’d be willing to bet he was hard-pressed to find another captain with any experience if he was willing to roll the dice with her.
“I’ll get my crew and begin work tomorrow.” She stood and extended a hand. Took charge of the situation. What did her Aunt Dai always tell her to do? Lean in? If she angled any farther, she’d topple over.
Her bosses shoved themselves to their feet. They exchanged a long look and then Rick grasped her hand. Pumped it up and down. “You’ve got yourself a boat.”
“For now,” Sam interjected, clapping her shoulder, sealing this last-ditch bargain she had to keep.
She grabbed her fleece off the back of her chair and yanked it on. At the far end of the bar, the live rock band swung into a guitar solo that squealed and whined, the sound blasting from wall-mounted speakers. Some of the milling plaid-and-jeans-clad men and women lifted their drinks and hooted. Their ball-cap-covered heads bobbed approval.
When a bouncer tossed a couple of tussling men outside, a gap appeared in the throng and Nolee’s eye landed on Dylan, sitting in a dark corner across from his Uncle Bill. She glimpsed Dylan’s chiseled jaw and noted his eye-popping body in a fitted green thermal shirt that she imagined did great things for his sexy eyes.
Buoyed by her win with the Dunham boys, she was on her feet and heading for Dylan before she had time to think it through. But she was drawn by the attraction that’d flared to life yesterday in a kiss she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
She wove through the crowd just as Bill stood and pulled on a lopsided winter hat that looked to be the work of one of his six daughters. He never left port without having them sing him “Eye of the Tiger” for good luck and their drawings and pictures festooned his wheelhouse.
As she neared, she overheard Dylan saying, “I’ve got this.”
“Hey, Captain Bill.”
The older man looked up from zipping his coat and a broad smile creased his weathered face. “Nolee!”
Dylan’s eyes swung to hers and the flare of heat in them made her pulse speed.
Bill engulfed her in a musk-scented bear hug that squeezed the breath out of her and lifted her off her feet. When he set her back down, she put a hand to her hair and felt Dylan’s gaze. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“Heard about yesterday. Hell of a thing.” Suddenly Bill jerked as if stung, and yanked a cell phone from his back pocket. He muttered under his breath then shoved it away. “Shoot. That’s the wife again. Gotta go. Stop by Easy Rider when you can. Sure I can find some work for you.”
Without waiting for an answer, he waved and disappeared through the crowd.
She spun a chair around backward, straddled it and beamed a full-blown cheeky grin meant to blast away the concern darkening Dylan’s eyes. Pity. Growing up poor, powerless and dependent on others’ charity, she’d had more than her share of it. She wouldn’t let anyone feel sorry for her. Wouldn’t let herself.
Besides, there was no denying it felt damn good to see Dylan. Seeing him in the hospital, feeling the old connection had melted away some of her reservations... And since he’d be leaving town soon, it was safe to bask in his sexy hot glow. She hoped. “You’re off the hook.”
The beginnings of a wry smile teased up one side of his gorgeous mouth. His shirt molded to his sculpted chest when he twisted around to search for a wallet. Her mouth watered. “How’s that?” he asked without turning.
“Got another boat.” She lifted the mostly empty tumbler in front of him. Sniffed. “So I’ve got the next round.”
“You what?” He straightened and his eyebrows rose. In the dim light of the pub, shadows gave his symmetrical face dangerous angles that caught her eye. Turned the blood in her veins warm.
“Two Jim Beams, Sheryl,” she called to an approaching waitress, forcing herself to look away. Act unaffected. She cracked open a peanut, tossed it in the air and caught it neatly in her mouth.
She needed to stop her runaway thoughts of Dylan. The devastating effect of his arousing kiss yesterday hadn’t lessened. Not a bit. In fact, it’d seemed to intensify as she’d lain awake in her small apartment over her cousin’s garage, staring at a neighbor’s blinking Christmas lights, imagining him in bed beside her, distracting her troubling thoughts in the most erotic way possible.
And now that he sat only feet away from her, the effect was devastating. She couldn’t stop staring at his hands. Recalling the strong feel of them on her yesterday in the clinic. His lips on hers. Electric. She’d thought the sensual side of her had died when he left Kodiak. But apparently he was the only man she’d met who could light that particular spark for her. Turned out, she’d missed it.
Warm, she stood and pulled off her fleece. When her head emerged, she caught Dylan staring at her, his eyes intent. His body still. Her jeans had ridden a little down her hip, revealing a small red-white-and-blue anchor tattoo.
“When’d you get that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Without taking his eyes off it, he raised his glass and bolted back the rest of his drink.
“You like it?” She arched an eyebrow at him and sat again, enjoying the normally übercontrolled man’s discomfort. Besides, it distracted him from any proceed-with-caution speech he looked like he’d been about to make. Tonight, riding high on her newly resuscitated career, she didn’t want doom and gloom to rain on her parade. “I’ve got a couple more you might appreciate.”
“I—I—” He swallowed hard, reminding her of that serious, earnest boy she’d met on Bill’s boat who’d rarely spoken a word to anyone, who’d never smiled or joked around, but worked like a man possessed.
It’d become her mission to break his concentration back then, to make him laugh, get him riled, just feel something. Her daredevil antics had finally worn him down until he’d loosened up, then opened up, prompting her to lower her guard, too.
The old wound on her heart throbbed, a phantom pain, like a missing limb. It’s not there, she reminded herself. Those feelings. Gone now. Poof.
“What’s going on, Nolee?”
“Dunham Seafoods is giving me another boat.” She tapped her fingers on the tabletop along to the beat of the band’s Lynyrd Skynyrd cover and raised her chin a notch.
He frowned. “They just happen to have one they hadn’t bothered putting out this year?”
She shrugged, looking as unconcerned as possible. “It needs a few repairs.”
“How many?” he asked heavily.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, unable to hold out when he looked at her so directly.
He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her that squinty look she’d always found so sexy. “You have no idea how much work the boat needs to be seaworthy?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ll know tomorrow when I inspect it.”
“So you just accepted, sight unseen?”
“Yes.” She stabbed the cherry in the bottom of Bill’s glass with a toothpick.
“Why would you do that, Nolee?”
Sheryl returned with their drinks. At the shake of Dylan’s head, she trotted off with a quick wave, leaving Nolee’s money on the table.
“Because I’m a captain minus a boat,” Nolee insisted. “In case you forgot.”
“How could I?” His eyes searched hers and she dropped her gaze, uncomfortable with all that worry. “Look, you could work for my uncle. Take a breather. Figure things out. You’re a first-time captain. You shouldn’t be taking a boat out unless it’s been proven.”
“I’ll get it up to code.” She raised her glass, refusing to let his worries get into her head when she had enough of her own. “Cheers.”
“By when?” he asked, ignoring her toast. Placing his elbows on the table he leaned closer and his distinctive, clean male scent, a blend of soap and sea, sand and sun, rose around them. She breathed deep. After he’d left Kodiak, she’d fallen asleep clutching one of his old hoodies, her nose buried in the worn fabric, until eventually his smell had disappeared.
Not so her attraction, it seemed.
“The regular season starts in twelve days.” He swirled his whiskey.
“I know,” she said, firm, not letting his doubts burst her bubble. Or the tantalizing nearness of him sway her. “But I’ve got to fill my quota.”
“What is it?” he asked, sounding wary. A throaty howl rose from the game-watching crowd at the bar, accompanied by a hail of insults for the Seahawks’ opponents.
“Four hundred K.”
Dylan leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the top of a leftover beer bottle. He shook his head. “That was taking into account the preseason. Your time’s cut by a third.”
“I’ll make it.”
“Be reasonable, Nolee. Who are you going to hire this late in the season?”
“My crew.” Though, oddly, four of her six men hadn’t returned her calls today when she’d checked in to see how they were doing.
“Bill told me he’d heard some of them got hired already. You know experienced hands are hard to come by.”
She blinked at him, thoughts scrambling. “Oh.” To cover her confusion, she gulped her drink and fought off a cough when the back of her throat caught fire.
“Right.” He raised his voice when a pack of boisterous locals swarmed close to play darts. “You don’t have enough help.”
“I’ll hire some.”
