Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

muchtoofast!”
    “Are you kidding? I haven’t even scratched the surface.”
    “All right. So I’m slow.”
    Jake knew it was his method rather than Honor’s mind that was at fault. But the time Ellen had given him was slipping away like the tide.
    “You’re not slow,” he said curtly. “You’re stubborn. So am I. Guess who’s more stubborn?”
    “Merde.”
    “Try the knot again. Keep trying it until you get it right. While you try, I’ll tell you more about how to trim the bow for various speeds and water conditions.”
    Honor bent over the knot while Jake talked quickly and relentlessly. The result was confusion rather than understanding. There was fear, too, fear that she simply didn’t have what it took to help Kyle. She hadn’t felt this inadequate since she had tried to play football with her brothers.
    The knot she was working on fell apart. Again. If Jake noticed, he didn’t even pause in the mind-numbing flow of facts.
    “What was that about chine?” she asked desperately. “Is that even a word?”
    “Chine is the line of intersection between the side and bottom of a boat. If you present the chine correctly to the water, you get a smoother ride.”
    “Oh.”
    And that was just the beginning. The longer Honor listened, the more she realized how silly she had been to think that running the Tomorrow was something she could pick up like skiing—a few hours, a few pratfalls, and watch her fly.
    Jake measured the dismay growing on Honor’s face, but didn’t let up on the ruthless flow of information and instruction. The lady had hired him to teach her how to fish and how to run the boat; not one word had been mentioned about finding a missing brother or stolen amber. By God, he would bury her in teaching until she figured out that she wasn’t going to turn into a boat handler overnight. Then she would have no choice but to ask his help in her real hunt.
    He didn’t think it would take long. Every instant they were on the boat made it more obvious to him that she was fighting herself—and him—on the subject of fishing and small boats. Under other circumstances he might have found her stubbornness amusing. But knowing that some hard, crafty people were after the same amber treasure that could prove Jake’s innocence took all the humor out of the situation.
    Time was wasting, and Honor was the one wasting it.
    “Let’s try something really simple,” he said. “Go out on the stern.”
    “And jump overboard?” she asked sarcastically.
    “That comes later, when we do the ‘man overboard’ practice.”
    “Like bloody hell.”
    But she turned and went out the door to the stern. Jake joined her a moment later and continued driving the boat from the aft station.
    “Go to the stern cleat,” he said, gesturing to one of the bright chrome fixtures that was fastened to the gunwale.
    He cut speed, looked around, and let go of the wheel.
    “Tie your line on the cleat like this,” he said.
    With startling speed, the blue line formed into two figure eights lying neatly around the cleat.
    “Nifty,” Honor said approvingly. “That’s the first knot you’ve made that doesn’t look like half a can of worms.”
    Despite himself, Jake smiled as he took hold of the wheel again, throttled up, and looked over his shoulder. The knot was an easy one, but not as easy as it looked. The trick was in making the loops lie flat and parallel.
    Honor soon found that out for herself. Making the figure eights was easy. Making them pretty wasn’t. Especially when Jake was pouring a river of facts and instructions into her ear.
    “Twist the other way,” he said for the third time. “The second figure eight is supposed to lie flat around the first one.”
    “I followed the blue line exactly.”
    “Really? Then why did the knot fall apart?”
    “Don’t ask me. You’re the expert.”
    “Keep it in mind,” he shot back. “Now twist the line the other way.”
    She looked at the length of line in her hands. “Why don’t you teach me something useful?”
    “Such as?”
    “How to drive the boat.”
    “This knot is as useful as it gets,” Jake said. “It’s how you make sure your boat stays at the dock so that it’s there when you come back.”
    “Why didn’t Kyle buy a rowboat?” Honor asked under her breath. “Even twelve-year-olds run them.”
    “Big or small, if it floats you still have to tie it to the dock.” Jake looked over the stern at the other boats. Still following. Still