Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

a long time since someone had snuck up behind him. Not since elementary school when he’d had to keep a watch out for Jimmy the lunch-stealing terror of the fourth grade. Back then, he’d been scrawny for his age. He’d compensated by being silent and sneaky. “I believe Sonya Savonski is playing her violin.”
    “That rip-off-your-balls woman plays the violin?”
    “Yeah. Now shut up.” Garrett leaned his arms on the rail of the boat and settled in to listen.
    “Damn, she’s not half bad,” Judd said.
    Garrett slid a warning glance his direction.
    “Right. Shutting up.”
    They stood in silence until Skip lumbered on deck from the cabin. Garrett didn’t have any trouble hearing him. The man had lost his stealth with the extra pounds he carried. The half-eaten candy bar in his hand wasn’t helping either. “Isn’t that Un Giorno Per Noi from Romeo and Juliet?”
    Garrett had no clue what Sonya was playing other than he liked it.
    “Beautiful,” Skip said, looking as though the music had the power to pull him away from his candy bar.
    “Better keep it down,” Judd said, “or SEAL-man there’s gonna tell you to—”
    “Hush,” Skip said.
    “Well, yeah,” Judd whispered, “but you said it a lot nicer.”
    Skip copied Garrett’s pose with his arms leaning on the rail.
    Suddenly, the music stopped and the wind went silent. Seconds ticked by, then minutes, and then nothing.
    “You don’t think she’s done do you?” Skip asked, his tone sounding despondent over the prospect. “If we radio her, do you think she’d take requests?”
    “Get her to play something happy this time,” Judd said. They both looked at Garrett.
    “Why the hell you asking me?” Garrett scowled at the men. “How would I know?”
    Skip and Judd shared a look. Then Skip asked, “What does her skin smell like?”
    “Honeysuckle,” he answered without thinking. The scent had been haunting him for days, keeping him up nights.
    They smiled.
    “You know what she smells like but nothing else about her?” Skip asked. “Women are more than sexual objects.”
    “Since when?” Judd asked.
    Skip elbowed him in the gut. “We don’t all think with our little brain.” Skip looked at Garrett. “Well, at least I don’t. And since I’m the smart one, I’m headed to catch a few winks before we have to baby-sit tomorrow.”
    “I’m coming too.” Judd paused. “What about you?” He glanced at Garrett.
    “Yeah, in a bit.” He turned back to the many boats anchored up for the night and wondered which one was the Double Dippin’.
    Then he wondered why he was wondering.

C HAPTER N INE
    “Red Fox, this is the Double Dippin’ . Got your ears on?” Sonya radioed camp on the VHF. She and Wes had finished tendering last night’s drift catch to the Time Bandit after sending Gramps and Peter back to camp to get some rest.
    They’d fished solid most of the week. Each tide was either a drift opening or set netting. Sonya didn’t even know what day of the week it was anymore. Their fish poundage was adding up fast. Now, if the price per pound exceeded last year’s she’d have no problem with Peter’s tuition and paying her mounting debts getting into drifting had set her back.
    Wes was currently below catching a few winks. The plan was to get a hot meal, let the drift boat go dry in front of camp, and then sleep until the tide came back in. According to the Fish and Game’s latest announcement, they were set netting the next tide, which only gave them maybe five hours of rest.
    “Red Fox, come in,” Sonya radioed again.
    “Morning, Sonya,” Grams greeted. “Breakfast is about to be served.”
    “I was hoping that was the case. Wes and I are floating right out front of the cabin.” Sonya looked at the running line to where two skiffs were supposed to be tied up. She pressed the button on the side of the mic. “Do we have a crewman absent for breakfast?”
    “No. Everyone’s accounted for.” Grams’s concerned voice registered clearly over the radio.
    Shit. “We’re down a skiff. Please tell me someone took it for a joy ride and left it somewhere safe.” Sonya waited for a reply. She got one. Gramps and Peter scrambled down the trail to the beach, donning their raingear as they hurried.
    “Negative on the joy ride,” Grams replied. “The boys are on their way.”
    “Thanks, Red Fox. By the way,” she shouldn’t ask, “what was for breakfast?” The only food she had on the boat was a jar of peanut