Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

position, and she was already behind.
    “Let’s get the net in the water, and then we need to check the hydraulics.”
    “Hydraulics? Why?”
    “Apparently, someone’s tampered with our lines.”

    “Damn ornery woman,” Garrett muttered as he made his way to the cabin on the Calypso .
    “You know her?” Judd asked. “Seemed to me that was more than just informing someone of a potential problem. After all, you could have informed them over the radio.”
    “Met her for the first time a few days ago.”
    “Well, she obviously made an impression on you,” Skip added.
    “That’s one word for it.” A few others readily came to mind. Hell, there she’d been spitting mad at him, actually wearing a t-shirt that said, “Have You Flogged Your Crew Today?” and he’d been doing her a favor. One that she’d probably ignore, because she didn’t want anything from him. Anything that is, since she found out he was a trooper. Before that, she’d wanted plenty, and he’d wanted to give it to her.
    He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten him so worked up, emotionally and physically. He didn’t need this kind of aggravation.
    “Hunt, you got your head in the game?” Judd hollered, pointing left of the bow where a drift boat had just rammed another boat.
    His head was somewhere else entirely. He grabbed the binoculars and focused on the boat. A few weapons were already being aimed between captains.
    Someone was going to get killed this season.

    The Double Dippin’ laid out her net.
    Sonya tried to keep out of the way of the other drifters, packed into the mouth of the river, while her crew went over all the hydraulic lines. She wracked her brain, wondering when someone would have had the opportunity to tamper with her boat.
    “Found it!” Wes hollered.
    “Where?” she asked, hanging out of the pilot house.
    “Someone’s punctured one of the hoses on the rollers. We wouldn’t have noticed it until we powered it up to pull in the net.” Which would have caused them all sorts of problems.
    “Can we fix it?” she asked.
    “Already on it,” Gramps said, holding up a roll of duct tape. “This will patch it up until we can replace the hose.”
    Sonya laughed with relief. There wasn’t anything Gramps believed couldn’t be fixed with a bit of duct tape. She sure hoped he was right in this case. If they lost the use of the hydraulic roller, the chance of catching a reasonable amount of fish, dwindled considerably. They’d have to round-haul the net in by hand. Having it full of fish, and fighting the pull of the tide, would make reeling it in tough, quickly exhausting the crew.
    Garrett had saved them lots of time and back-breaking work, not to mention, money.
    Now she’d have to find him and apologize for her snotty attitude. Worst of all, she’d have to thank him. Shit.

    They pulled in their first net, yielding a respectable catch. Sonya turned over the wheel to Gramps under the pretense of wanting to be on deck when the net came over the rollers. When in fact, she didn’t want Gramps overdoing it. The man wasn’t as young as he used to be.
    Everything seemed to be running smoothly after finding the sliced hydraulic line. Sonya promised herself she’d find the bastard responsible. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she was easy pickings. Then a member of her crew turned mutiny when she informed them that, as captain, she was upholding the long standing tradition of everyone kissing the first caught fish of the season for luck.
    Peter screwed up his face. “That is gross on so many levels. Besides, I’m almost eighteen. It should be my choice what I kiss. It’s a stupid ritual, anyway.”
    “No, it’s not. As captain, I’m ordering you to do it.” Fishermen tended to be a bit superstitious. She was no different. Every year she’d fished, Gramps had upheld this very ritual. It was Sonya’s year, and they were fishing a new way, but a ritual was a ritual.
    “Kiss the fish, Peter,” Wes said with a dare in his eye. “You need all the practice you can get, especially if you want to try your luck with Lana.”
    “Lana? You want to kiss Lana Harte?” Sonya remembered the way Peter had acted at the campfire the other night. He’d paid more attention to Lana than he had his food. In the past, he’d picked on Lana. Pulled her hair, teased—kid stuff—but there had been a difference in the way he’d treated her last night. Taking food to her, offering her a