Lisa Carter - Coast Guard Courtship

He tamped down an irrational surge of joy.

Not that Braeden was in the market for a woman. Especially a redheaded one.

“Here, Max.” Grasping him by his upper arms, Braeden heaved the little boy atop his shoulders. Max entwined his legs around Braeden’s torso. “Best seat in the house, champ.”

Max grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Chief Thomas took his place behind the podium. “Today we gather to bless these boats. We ask a blessing for those who work on them, for those who fish from these waters providing food to our country. For those who utilize these waters for recreation and pleasure.”

His arm swept across the expanse toward the Coast Guard boat. “And to bless those who protect our nation and its citizens. I’m honored to be here today,” Thomas intoned, “representing the United States Coast Guard.” Thomas’s cap visor gleamed in the sunlight. “My prayer for each of you is for fair winds...”

“And following seas,” the crowd finished.

Braeden squared his shoulders.

A devout man, this OIC. Reminded Braeden of his father. And Master Chief Davis.

Braeden fidgeted. His arm brushed against Amelia’s shoulder and his heartbeat accelerated. Unsettled, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

He needed to put a cork in his unexpected attraction to the strawberry blonde. After all, he didn’t do relationships. And this woman came loaded with complications.

A fortysomething man—“Reverend Parks,” Amelia whispered—ambled to the podium. His voice boomed across the water.

“They’re praying,” Max whispered in a volume only slightly softer than a foghorn. “Everybody, bow your head.”

Braeden darted his eyes at Amelia. His lips twitched. She covered her mouth with her hand before lowering her lashes.

“We pray, O Lord, for every seafarer. Grant them Your strength and protection. Keep each safe as they face the perils of the sea.”

For the first time in a long while, Braeden closed his eyes in prayer.

The reverend continued, “God of unfathomable love, as boundless as the deep Your spirit hovered over at the dawn of time, hear our prayer. Protect them from the dangers of the wind and the rain. Bring each soul safely home to the true harbor of Your peace. And may the saving power of our Lord guide and protect them, for Christ’s sake. Amen.”

“Amen,” murmured Amelia, her hands clasped.

“Amen,” extolled the Kiptohanock residents.

Blond, gray, brunette—Braeden sighed—and redheads bowed in prayer together.

Safe harbor? Was there such a thing? Here in Kiptohanock?

“Amen,” he whispered.

His first prayer since his father’s sudden death. Braeden pondered what, exactly, God had in store for him in this tiny village on the shores of the Atlantic.

Chapter Four

The ceremony ended with the tolling of the old ship’s bell mounted on the edge of the wharf. The bell rang out over the water across the assorted vessels in the harbor. One toll for each Kiptohanock waterman lost at sea.

Amelia shuddered.

Too many lost over the years. Friends of her dad’s, former schoolmates. Sons, brothers, fathers, grandpas. As the sounds floated skyward beyond the white-steepled church, she positioned herself to avoid facing sweet Pauline Crockett. Amelia dug her nails into the palms of her hands, remembering their shared loss.

Braeden gave her a sharp look. “Your family makes its living from the water, too?”

“Dad taught us to respect it. To never turn our backs on it or take it for granted. He equipped us to fight for survival when pitted against it when we must. To be prepared for its changing face.”

Amelia gestured toward the vessels anchored in the marina. “But every year the fleet grows smaller and the living gets harder to wrest from its depths. The crabs are overfished. The oysters infected.”

She made a face. “And don’t get the watermen started on the government regulations. In today’s world, a true waterman must diversify. So I run the charter fishing trips since Dad got sick. He does part-time work for the boat repair shop.”

Braeden quirked an eyebrow. “And Honey runs her B and B.”

Her lips curled a fraction. “I suppose when you put it that way...” She patted Max’s knee, perched atop Braeden’s shoulders.

Broad shoulders. Able to carry heavy loads.

She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. “Look, Max. The chief’s tossing the memorial wreath into the harbor.”

Max nodded. “For everybody lost at sea, like my dad.”

Not like his dad. But she’d never say that to Max. Let the child keep what illusions he possessed as long as he could.

Braeden lowered Max to the ground when the ceremony concluded. The crowd dispersed. She spotted her dad shooting the breeze with his buddies, many of them serving as auxiliary volunteer support to Station Kiptohanock. Amelia tensed as the Kole boy waved to Honey from the CG boat at anchor in the harbor.

Max tugged at Braeden’s hand. “Let’s watch the boats go by.”

Amelia caught Max’s arm. “Braeden probably has things to do.”

Max opened his palms. “Please, Mimi. Please. ”

Braeden adjusted his cap. “I really don’t have anywhere to be until I report for watch tomorrow.”

Two pairs of imploring eyes—bright blue and chocolate brown—shifted her way.

Amelia’s high-minded resolve to avoid the XPO weakened. “Oh, all right. But only for a minute.”

They shouldered past the clumps of chatting people milling about on the pier. Getting an earful from a come-here—anyone from elsewhere other than the Eastern Shore—her dad backpedaled as Amelia approached. She pivoted toward Honey, who ducked her head and disappeared into the café.

Cowards. She’d give them an earful and a piece of her temper for hatching this plot to rent out the cabin. They’d left her out of the loop and made her look like a fool in front of the XPO.

Amelia sighed.

Okay, she’d accomplished that feat under her own steam.

Max occupied himself by saluting as the flotilla of recreational and commercial fishing vessels chugged away toward the open water.

Braeden looped his thumbs in his duty belt. “I take it you knew nothing about the cabin rental. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I almost skewered you.” She surveyed the sparkling water. “Money’s been tight since Dad’s heart attack. Honey had to drop out of college and come home. And with Max...” She cleared her throat. “They probably believed they were helping the Duer bottom line.”

He leaned toward her, his gaze intent. “But this is going to add to your workload, isn’t it?” His probing awareness penetrated down to the depths of her heart.

She flushed.

When he looked at her like that...

She wished she’d taken Honey’s advice last week and had her hair styled. Big waste of money. For as often as not, she stuffed her hair inside a cap and let the sun and the wind have their way.

“You already run the family fishing business—”

“What’s left of it these days.”

“And operate a charter boat during tourist season by yourself?”

She nodded.

Braeden’s cheeks lifted, turning his eyes into half-moons. “I’m impressed. You’re a woman of many talents.”

Max plucked at her sleeve. “It’s not too cold, Mimi. Braeden and I could—”

“No, Max. It is too cold.” She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought a jacket. The wind off the water was cool. She should’ve been more vigilant.

Out of habit, she darted a glance at the horizon. Red sky this morning. “Sailor take warning. Wind’s picking up.”

Braeden removed his cap and plopped it on Max’s head. “USCG,” he read aloud. “Station Kiptohanock. Would you take care of it for me until lunch, bud?”