Lisa Carter - Coast Guard Courtship

Amelia circled the town square and slowed to give Max a better look-see. “I forgot today’s when the Kiptohanock Coast Guard chief blesses the fleet—” she sniffed “—such as it is, for the start of the fishing and tourist season.”

Max wriggled underneath the booster’s harness. “I wanna see.”

She frowned at him in the rearview mirror. “Sit still, Max. You need to go home and rest. Anybody too sick to go to school—”

“I’m not sick,” he shouted. “Just tired.”

She recoiled at the decibel level. “Don’t yell at me, Max. I can hear you perfectly—”

“I don’t need to rest.” He tugged at the safety catch. “I wanna see the Coasties like my dad.”

His dad... The good-for-nothing lowlife who’d deserted her sister and baby nephew.

Amelia’s mouth hardened. “Stop twisting the seat belt, Max. We’re going home and that’s—”

Max yelled at the top of his lungs.

A sound not unlike the one she’d employed against a certain petty officer this morning. But Max’s temper tantrums were a new outgrowth of the experimental treatments he’d endured over the winter.

Or, as her dad insisted, they were his attempts to test the boundaries of Amelia’s parenting.

Although she supposed if she’d been subjected to as much pain as Max in his short life, she’d be mad, too.

Perhaps she already was, judging from the way she’d attacked an innocent Guardsman this morning. Sometimes she wanted to yell and scream and throw things like Max.

“When you yell like that—” she trained her eyes on the parking lot beside the diner “—I shut my ears.”

He stopped, a silence so profound and sudden it was as if he’d switched off a faucet.

“We could park at the diner.” She engaged the blinker, grateful for the reprieve to her nerve endings. “And watch from there.”

“I didn’t get to see the blessing last year, Mimi.”

She squinted at him in the mirror. “No, you didn’t.”

“Because we were in...” He fell silent.

Putting the Jeep in Park, she swiveled to face him.

His lip trembled. “...that Hopkins hospital place.”

She contemplated his impossibly blue eyes, so like her sister Lindi’s.

Amelia blew out a breath. “Okay, Max. We’ll—”

“Yahoo!” He fist pumped the air.

Grimacing, she suspected she’d been handled by a carrot-topped five-year-old. Slinging open her door and scrambling out, she stuck her key ring into her jeans. Amelia placed her hand on the passenger door handle as Braeden Scott reached for it, too.

* * *

“Here, let me—”

“I’ve got—”

Braeden retreated a pace. “Thought I’d help get you to the ceremony on time.”

She crossed her arms over her ribbed gray henley shirt. “I told you I don’t need your help.”

A little boy pounded on the door. He smashed his face against the glass, giving his lips and eyes the appearance of a puffer fish.

She sighed. “Max...”

Braeden laughed. “And I thought I’d introduce myself to another member of the Duer clan.”

“The crazy Duer clan.”

Her lips quirked. Soft pink lips, he also noticed.

“Be my guest.” She gestured. “Proceed at your own risk.”

Opening the door, he leaned in and unlatched the safety harness, freeing Max from its confines. With a whoosh, Max paratrooped to the ground.

She took firm control of his shoulders. “Calm down, Max.”

Her nephew squirmed, mutiny written across his face.

“This is the man I told you about, Max. He’s renting the cabin from Granddad and Aunt Honey.”

Braeden dropped on one knee to Max’s level. His tropical-blue trousers brushed the gravel. “Braeden Scott.” He extended his hand to the boy, man to man.

Max wrapped his fingers around his hand and grinned. “I’m Max Duer.”

The boy appeared small for his age. Skin and bones. Pale, with dark purple smudges etched under his eyes. Fragile...

Braeden lifted his gaze to Amelia. “Another redhead, I see.” She fisted her hands on her hips and glowered at him. Braeden gave her a winsome smile. “Why, I bet you couldn’t throw a rock in this place and not hit one.”

“My dad was a Coastie.” Max extended his index finger at Braeden’s insignia with the crossed anchors. “But not a boatswain’s mate like you. He was an electrician’s mate.”

Braeden ruffled Max’s short hair. “You know a lot about the Coast Guard for someone so young. Got our hairstyle, too.”

She pulled Max toward her. “It’s starting to grow again after—”

“I’m going to be a Coastie one day.” Max yanked free. “Like my dad.”

“Not just like your dad. He—” She bit her lip and fixed her eyes on the toes of her Wellingtons.

Something was going on Braeden didn’t understand. “Is your dad at sea?”

Max jutted his jaw. “He died. But I’m going to be just like him. Or maybe a rescue swimmer.”

Amelia plucked at Max’s arm. “Come on, Max. Aren’t you in a rush to see the blessing of the fleet?” She lugged him toward the crowded dock.

Braeden fell in beside her. “At my last duty assignment, I got to drive the response boat as a coxswain.” He peered out over the water, pensive. “Kind of miss the action and being a part of rescuing those in need. Now it looks as though I’ll be stuck with administrative work most of the time, one of the downsides to higher rank.”

Max stopped in his tracks. Amelia ran aground into him. Max’s big eyes shone. “Could you teach me how to be a rescue swimmer, Mr. Scott? Mimi sometimes lets me help her drive the boat as her coxswain. But I really want to learn to dive.”

She shook her head. “Max...”

“Call me Braeden, Max.” He shrugged. “Aren’t you too young to be thinking about that? You’ve got plenty of time.”

Amelia flinched as if he’d struck her. Her mouth quivered. “Max doesn’t even know how to swim yet.” She cupped the crown of his head.

Max threw off her hand. “’Cause you won’t let me learn.” His eyes blazed.

“We’ve talked about that. You’re not strong enough. Maybe next year...”

Max scowled.

She softened her tone. “Besides, the water’s too cold this time of year.”

“I’m not a baby,” Max growled.

Braeden furrowed his brows and tried to defuse the situation. “I’m sure your mother knows—”

Max stamped his foot. “She’s not my mother. My real mother’s dead, too.”

Hurt flickered across Amelia’s features.

Max’s nostrils flared. “She’s my aunt Mimi and she’s not the boss of me. I’m not a baby anymore.”

She snatched at his sleeve as heads rotated in their direction. “We’ll talk about this later at home.”

Max jerked out of her grasp and huddled next to Braeden. “I want to go to the ceremony with Braeden, not you, Mimi.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice.

Braeden raised his brows at Amelia, seeking her direction as to his next move. She gave a tiny shake of her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “Let’s not make a scene. Please, Max?”

An unfamiliar tenderness threatened to swamp Braeden’s carefully constructed indifference.

Max stared Amelia down.

Her shoulders slumped. “We’d better go closer so Max can see better.”

She slid Braeden an uncertain sidelong glance. “If you’re sure you don’t mind...or not too busy.”

Braeden’s pulse ratcheted a notch. “It’s okay. No problem.”

Amelia gazed at him with those big blue-green eyes of hers. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble on your first day.”

Braeden focused for a long moment on her eyes and processed the information he’d acquired via Max. Not his mother. Probably, therefore, judging by her lack of rings, not married.