Page 15 of Buck (Diver Downeast #2)

Buck stood on the end of the dock in the bright sunlight, his rod cast. The rain predicted had failed to materialize, for which he was thankful. He loved to fish, but doing so in the rain? Not as much fun.

He’d baited his hook with a bit of squid to tease the mackerel that were biting this late afternoon. And so far he’d been successful. He already had a tidy bucketful of the twelve-to-fifteen-inch fish.

What he hadn’t yet caught sight of, was Bobbie, although the prevailing winds had been contrary all day. That told him she’d probably had a longer trip home than usual.

He knew he was in the right place.

Finding Bobbie’s port of choice had been easy.

Waiting for her was not.

He’d used his computer hacking skills to search her name at local marinas, eventually discovering that Bobbie was moored in the harbor at Searsport. It hadn’t been hard. Security on the semi-public records was less than stringent, to say the least.

Once here, the harbormaster, Lou—who was an old friend of the Sothard family—had easily been coerced into giving over the name and make of the sloop she was sailing, so now Buck knew exactly what he was looking for as he waited.

He’d also found out she’d named her thirty-foot day-sailor, Small Dream .

Very apt.

A little more jovial digging, and Buck had also discovered what time Bobbie left each week on Monday mornings, and what time she normally got in on Wednesday afternoons.

He’d arrived earlier than need be, so he’d gotten a bite to eat, then leisurely set himself up on the dock to fish, waiting to spot her.

Was he nervous? Hell, yes .

It was probably an understatement to say she’d be mad as hell that he was here. But Bobbie also wasn’t stupid. He’d warned her that they’d be having a talk, so she might have assumed he’d be waiting for her.

Shit . His heart did a quick two-step. Did that mean, in order to spite him, she’d put her boat in someplace else?

Buck hoped not.

He’d wait another hour before he’d admit that she might have outsmarted him.

If she did show, to mitigate any of Bobbie’s overt anger, Buck hoped to sweeten her up by giving her a hand unloading her boat before he cajoled her into granting him a chance to speak. If that didn’t work, he wasn’t above begging for the opportunity to clear the air.

Buck hooked another mackerel, and competently reeled it in.

If he caught any more, Everlee would kill him.

Not that he’d make her do the cleaning. He’d take care of that.

But she’d still raise her brows at the size of the feast. There was more than enough here to feed the entire Sothard family, but four of them had already left to go back to their deployments and school.

However … Buck grinned.

There was still one extra couple who’d stayed to enjoy Ellen and Guy Sothard’s hospitality.

Tex and his wife.

They’d come for Spencer’s wedding—after being key to helping orchestrate the hunt for Tabitha’s sister, Sheila, when she’d gone missing—and were taking a few days off for an extended vacation.

Melody, post-wedding, had been happily dogging Ellen and Sheila at the camp where the pair worked, while Tex spent time gleefully picking Buck, Spencer’s, and Tabitha’s brains about the imminent opening of Diver Downeast.

The situation was pretty funny. Tex had been a decorated Navy SEAL who’d been more at home in the water than he was on land.

But due to logistics, Tex didn’t get to dive much these days, so he’d eagerly immersed himself in their world, doing some recreational diving, giving sage advice, and otherwise being a knowledgeable, welcome presence as they worked to open their doors.

Tex’s wife Melody kept telling her husband not to be such a busy-body, but none of the Sothard’s felt that way. With how many times Tex had saved the day for not only them, but so many mutual friends, Buck and his family would listen to anything Tex had to say, and take it as gospel.

Buck glanced down at the overly-filled fish bucket.

Yup. He hoped Melody and Tex liked mackerel.

Buck was just about to cast again when movement on the horizon caught his eye. A single masted craft was just rounding the mid-channel marker into the harbor, and… Buck squinted. From the silhouette of the sloop, it sure looked like it had to be Bobbie’s.

As it got closer, Buck could make out the single female at the helm, and yes. His heart sped up. It was her. Pulling past the demarcating buoys, Bobbie expertly turned and pointed her vessel head-to-wind, depowering her mainsail before lowering it with ease.

Bobbie took another minute to temporarily secure the large sheet before switching over to auxiliary power. He couldn’t be sure at this distance, but was her vessel propelled by a small inboard engine or an outboard?

Did Bobbie have hopes to race the Small Dream someday?

A large inboard would give more stability to a boat at sea, but the added weight would be a hindrance while racing.

An outboard, on the other hand, wouldn’t be an impedance, but her weekly trips might have been Bobbie’s reasoning if she’d chosen an inboard, since she’d gain more ballast as she sailed open waters several days a week.

Maybe she’d finished with her dreams of racing.

Buck hoped not.

He knew the minute he’d been spotted. Bobbie lowered her head and shook it, while at the same time squaring her shoulders.

Buck wasn’t going to let her deflective posture discourage him as he stood, ready to help her dock.

From what the harbormaster had told him, she always unloaded her numerous containers onto the pier, then took her boat back out to its mooring before using her motorized dingy to come back in.

It looked like she wasn’t going to deviate from that behavior today, because of his presence.

Good.

And wow. Bobbie looked awesome. Dressed in a T-shirt that had seen better days, the worn material clung to her chest like an old lover, making him want to cup his hands around the full breasts showcased beneath.

And her legs… Long, toned, and tanned from her time at sea, their bareness seemed to go on forever, stopping at the fringe of her cut-off jeans.

The denim, oh, Lord, the denim hugged her ass in such a way that Buck could almost feel those lush cheeks filling his palms, even if he’d never had his hands on them.

Bobbie’s dark hair was braided back away from her face so he could see her full expression, but as she approached, looking sour, her azure blue eyes still avoided contact with his.

Buck wondered for an instant if Bobbie would try to ignore him completely, but she finally lowered her bumpers and tossed him a rope.

He gave an internal sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t going to be completely persona non grata.

The boat drifted close to the pier under Bobbie’s expert hand, and Buck easily cleated the bow-line she’d sent his way before snagging the stern-lead and securing that as well.

Bobbie hadn’t yet acknowledged him verbally, fussing about with a few sail-ties before eventually giving up the fight and facing him.

“Fine. You want to make yourself useful? Grab the boxes I’m going to give you, and stack them on the dock.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Buck gave a jaunty salute, then immediately wondered if that was too over-the-top.

“Cut the crap, Buck.”

Yeah. It was.

“You’re here. You want to help. I’ll allow it,” she snapped. “But don’t think this means we’re friends,” she huffed and headed down the companionway.

“Not yet, anyway,” Buck mumbled under his breath, but he’d do his best to make that, and maybe more, happen.

When Bobbie emerged, he played the hand she’d dealt him, and silently took the first large box from her to heave it over the gunwale and onto the wooden pier. All the while thinking…

How was he going to get past her prickliness?

After several more boxes, bags, and coolers had been dealt with in stoic silence—and there was nothing else to offload—Bobbie got behind the helm and started her engine again.

Buck watched from the dock to see what her next move would be.

“Cast me off,” she ordered.

Oh, hell no.

Once he loosened her lines, he knew she’d be gone, and he was not about to be left behind. He wouldn’t put it past Bobbie to head to her mooring where she’d spitefully stay and sleep on her boat tonight, even if it meant abandoning her stuff on the dock.

Not happening.

Casually uncleating the stern-line, Buck then walked the length of the boat. In one smooth move, he un-cleated the bow of the Small Dream and…hopped aboard.

Bobbie’s jaw dropped.

Hah. Now she was looking at him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she barked.

“Taking the ride out to your mooring with you.” Buck shrugged and hauled in the bumpers she would no longer be needing tonight. He loved the way her eyes snapped as she debated what to say; the blue so vibrant it put the colors in the sea and sky around them to shame.

“Well, you’ve got guts. I’ll give you that,” Bobbie returned testily. “You know, one loop of my anchor line around your feet, and…oops. No more Buck.”

He knew she was teasing…

Uh, at least he hoped she was .

But even if she wasn’t, he’d let her know that getting rid of him before they had their chat wasn’t going to be all that easy.

“Right. Except that I’d surface pretty quickly. As every good Coast Guardsman, I never go anywhere without my trusty knife.” He pulled his ever-present blade from his pocket before stuffing it back in.

He got a snort.

“I’ll have to get more creative, then,” she gritted out.

Buck almost sighed. Talking with her wasn’t going to be easy. But if this is how she wanted to engage, he’d play along.

“What about poisoning my food?” he suggested, tongue-in-cheek. “I’m a big eater, so I probably won’t stop chowing down to see if you’ve messed with it.”

“Nope.” She shook her head, looking like she was taking his silly suggestion almost seriously. “Too cliché for a chef. I’d be the first person the authorities would suspect. But natural poison isn’t a bad idea. Maybe a puffer fish…”