Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

C HAPTER O NE
    Sonya Savonski screeched her ATV to a stop alongside the dirt runway as the puddle jumper touched down. The prop airplane had just made the fifteen-minute hop from King Salmon to the small fishing village of Bristol Bay, Alaska.
    “That was not a fair race,” Peter hollered, parking his 4-wheeler next to hers.
    “Only because you lost.”
    “I’m towing a trailer,” he pointed out, tossing his head to the side, and clearing his eyes of dark hair. At seventeen, Peter hated to lose at anything.
    “An empty trailer,” Sonya said. “It comes down to the better driver, little brother.”
    The plane taxied toward them, the noise deafening. The engines thundered down and welcomed silence followed. A door opened and passengers began to climb out. Most gazed around, not surprised by the wind-whipped banks, low-lying tundra, and the gray-green waters of the Bering Sea promising adventure, money, and possibly death. This wasn’t the tourist-friendly part of Alaska.
    Fuel and exhaust mixed with salty sea air and the smell of fish. Call her crazy, but it was a scent Sonya loved. The scent of fish meant money. Hopefully this fishing season they’d get stinking rich.
    “There they are.” Peter pointed to their grandparents as they stepped down from the plane.
    Gramps chatted animatedly while Grams seemed to listen with rapt attention. Sonya knew that look. Margaret Savonski was woolgathering.
    Peter rushed up to them, and Gramps’ face spilt into a grin as he grabbed him in a man hug. It had been weeks since they’d all seen each other. Sonya and Peter had headed out to open camp for this summer’s commercial sockeye season, knowing it would be one for the books—they were drifting and set netting this year.
    Their nonconformist plan was bound to upset some fishermen.
    Gramps greeted her with a bear hug. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
    She responded with the expected, “I’m your only granddaughter.”
    Nikolai Savonski’s dark brown eyes twinkled, and dimples cut deep grooves in his salt-and-pepper whiskered cheeks. A navy seaman’s cap hung lopsided over his thick wave of silver hair. He was a breed apart.
    “Nikky,” Grams said, “you and Peter get the bags, while I say hello to Sonya.” Margaret, with her regal bearing, immediately had the men jumping to do her bidding. The sweet-as-sugar smile, which accompanied the request, had paved a long road of men bending over backward to fetch anything she needed. The woman had skills.
    “Sonya, my girl, I’ve missed you.” They embraced, and Sonya breathed in the scent of English roses. “I’ve been too long in the company of men,” Margaret said, indicating Nikolai. He and Peter were pow-wowing with a group of fishermen waiting for the plane to be unloaded. “We must make time for some girlie stuff before the season starts.”
    Girlie stuff on the Bering Sea of Alaska? They’d have a better chance locating an ice cream shop.
    “We’ll make a point of it,” Sonya said, her attention snagged by Gramps who’d thrown his head back and let loose with a booming laugh. He was conversing with a sandy-haired man. The man had broad shoulders powerful enough to haul in a boatload of fish without breaking a sweat. Gramps motioned for Sonya to hurry over.
    “Looks as though Nikky has another suitor to introduce you to.” Grams chuckled while smoothing her platinum—never gray—curls back from her face as the Bristol Bay wind puffed teasing gusts around them.
    Sonya moaned and moseyed over to Gramps and Peter. For some reason, her grandpa had decided she needed to get married. She was only twenty-nine for heaven’s sake. There was plenty of time for that nonsense, but Gramps was bull-headed, so she went to be paraded in front of another “potential.”
    “Sonya, I’d like you to meet Garrett…uh…what’s your last name?”
    Great . He was so desperate to get her hitched that he wasn’t bothering to screen the men anymore. For all they knew, this man could have murdered a string of women.
    Peter turned his head to the side and snickered.
    “Hunt,” the stranger supplied. “Name’s Garrett Hunt.” He reached out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Sonya.”
    Yeah, yeah, blah, blah , she wanted to say, but then her attention caught on his ice-blue eyes. Eyes that color shouldn’t project heat. Somehow she found her hand happily engaged in his. It wasn’t just his eyes that gave off heat. A slight smile