Chapter 1

 

 

MIKE JANSEN’S alarm went off at four in the morning, the usual time for a work day. He pushed back the light covers and climbed out of the bed, instantly awake because he’d long ago learned to be alert and ready as soon as he opened his eyes. The air conditioner sent a cool breeze into the room, but still it struggled to keep up with the wet Apalachicola heat. That was yet another thing he was babying through until he could afford to replace it. Which was the story of his life: fix and baby along until he could get money together to replace aging and worn-out things. There were exceptions, of course, and one of them was his livelihood.

He hurried into the shower, cleaned up with quick efficiency, and went through his morning routine with barely a thought. Once he was presentable in light tan shorts and a pale blue T-shirt that Carrie had picked out for him because she liked it, he slipped into his nonslip shoes and left his room. Before going anywhere else, he stopped at his daughter’s room, slowly opened the door, and went inside.

Carrie was the light of his life, the happiest of accidents that he never regretted for a second. Her head rested on her pink pillowcase, turned away from him, golden hair shining in the light of the unicorn glowing next to her bed. Mike leaned over her to gently kiss her cheek before retreating and closing the door once again.

The rich scent of coffee hanging in the humidity drew him to the kitchen, thankful he’d remembered to set the timer. He poured a mug, then carried it with him as he packed his cooler for the day with water—lots of water—and some soda because he’d need the caffeine eventually, as well as his lunch. He also filled his thermos with the rest of the pot of strong coffee and opened the back door.

The heat washed over him, welcoming him into its familiar wetness. Not that it mattered; he was so used to it that its absence would be noted as opposed to its presence. Whenever the heat abated in winter, he often wasn’t sure what to do without it and was chilled to the bone, even if it was fifty-five degrees. Mike put his lunch on the floor of the truck and returned inside to grab the container of snacks he always had with him for his clients.

The porch light switched on as Mike got the last of his gear ready. He closed the truck door, turning to where his mother stood in the doorway in her nightgown. “I don’t know how late I’m going to be tonight.”

“I know. You keep a close eye on the weather. I don’t like the looks of this storm one bit.” His mother considered herself a prognosticator of the highest order. She herself never listened to the weather except to find out what they were saying so she could criticize them and predict where they were wrong. The thing was, she was right more often than they were.

“I always do.” He walked over to give her a hug. “Tell Carrie I love her.”

His mother nodded slowly. “I’m taking her to Tallahassee today. She wanted to get some books, and the church youth group planned an outing to the capital, so I’m helping out.”

“Thank you for watching her.” There was no way he’d be able to continue working if it wasn’t for her.

“I’d do anything for that girl. You know that.” His mother shook her head, her dark hair touched with gray. “She’s the best of all of us, and I want to make sure she gets the chances I couldn’t give you.” She patted his cheek.

“You did just fine, Mom. Better than most, if you want the truth.” Mike smiled and turned away. He needed to get going or he’d have to rush his preparations, and he hated doing that. “Have fun in town today and tell Carrie I’ll see her tonight.” He hurried down the stairs of the small house the three of them shared to his truck. Mike climbed in and drove the five or so miles through the small town to the marina area and pulled into his usual spot.

The sun wasn’t near up so he stayed in the circles cast from the overhead lights, making his way with his lunch cooler toward Decisions…, his charter boat.

Mike loved his boat and lavished more attention on it than he probably should, but it was his livelihood and he wanted to make an impression on his clients. Decisions… was a thirty-footer with plenty of power where it counted. During a week in the previous summer, he’d pulled her out and cleaned and repainted her hull before setting her back in the water.

He boarded and stowed his things in the small cabin in the bow. He had to be careful not to hit his head as he descended the steep, ladderlike stairs. On his boat, everything had its place, and he put his cooler where it belonged and went through his morning check to ensure the boat was ready.

His mate, Gordon, stepped on board as he climbed out of the cabin. “Morning, boss,” he said, the way he always did.

“Morning, Bubba. Hand me your gear and I’ll stow it.”

Gordon passed over his cooler, and Mike put it next to his, then climbed out of the cabin and closed the door. Mike’s mother had worked with him to take apart the seating cushions and re-cover them in heavy-duty, waterproof fabric. Everything about his boat said that she might have been used, but she was well cared for.

“How many people we got today?”

“Just two. William booked the charter, but I got a call from a guy last week who wanted to go out, and William said it was okay for him to join.” Just saying the name William made Mike’s stomach flutter.

“I guess it’s that time,” Gordon commented flatly, pulling down the two best poles and reels to get them ready. “When do you expect them?”

“Any time. William said he’d be here by six.” Mike loved the trips William booked. Though he never counted on it, William always brought a huge cooler full of food, drinks, and everything they could possibly need to have a memorable day, and he always shared. Hell, it was obvious William brought extra just to share. He always turned the day of fishing into a joyous event, rather than something Mike and Gordon did for a living. Some clients who chartered the boat treated him and Gordon as though they were little more than servants. Those were rare, thank goodness. Most people were nice and spent a good day on the water. But the days with William on the boat were always the best.

Half an hour later, as they were finishing up with the last of the preparations, William called from the dock, “Hey, guys! You all ready to fill the boat with fish?”

“You bet,” Gordon said. He jumped onto the dock and raced along the planks to William’s fancy rental car.

Mike checked his fish-finding and navigation equipment, making sure all was in good working order. Gordon hauled William’s cooler on board, and William greeted them both with a huge, excited smile.

“What’s in season?” William didn’t really care what they caught as long as he spent time on the water with a rod and reel. Often some of the fish they did catch went home with Mike and Gordon. For William, it was about the experience and having fun. Actually catching the fish to keep wasn’t as high on his priority list.

“Grouper and lane snapper. Unfortunately, the reds we have to throw back.” It was a sore spot for Mike, but there was no use grousing about it. He couldn’t change the state’s rules; he just had to live by them.

“That’s cool.” William climbed on board, then shook hands with both Mike and Gordon. “We using live bait this time?”

“If we can find the traps,” Gordon said.

“We’re waiting on one more, and it looks like he’s here.”

Headlights raked over the area before going dark. At least Mike hoped that was their fourth man for the trip.

“Dean,” Mike called as the man got out of the truck, and the man waved while other vehicles pulled into the marina. Mike always liked to get an early start and get underway before all the other charter captains arrived and decided they wanted to leave as well.

“Mike and Gordon,” Mike said as he helped Dean on board the slightly rocking boat. The last thing he wanted was for a charter passenger to fall overboard. “But you can call him Bubba.” Mike took Dean’s cooler and placed it on the deck next to William’s. From the look of things, no one was going to starve.

“I’m William.” The two passengers shook hands. “Have you fished before?”

“This is my first time,” Dean admitted a little haltingly. He looked to be in his late forties, wearing sneakers, khaki shorts, and a lime-green shirt, with hair as light as Carrie’s and a very pale complexion. “I haven’t spent time on boats much either. I came down here on business in Tallahassee, and I’ve always wanted to do something like this. Since I had the extra day in my schedule, I decided to bite the bullet. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great. The more, the merrier.” William sat down, leg bouncing with excitement, and Mike watched that tanned limb jump up and down, like a metronome, keeping beat with the pounding of his own heart.

“We’ll do our best to make this a memorable trip for you.” Mike said. “We’re about to get underway, so have a seat. It’s going to take about half an hour for us to get to where we’ll pick up the live bait, and then another hour or two until we get to fishing. What we do is start at our farthest point and work inward. We’ll fish a spot, and if it’s good, we’ll stay. Otherwise we’ll move on.”

Mike started the engine, and it instantly roared to life. Gordon released the lines, and Mike backed out of the slip, then turned the boat out of the protected harbor and toward open waters.

“My God,” Dean said, pointing as they passed into the Gulf ten minutes later. “The sun is rising. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

Dean’s fascination was astounding. Mike saw that sight nearly every time he took out a charter, but it never got old because he kept seeing it through his clients’ eyes.

“Put on your sunglasses so you don’t hurt your eyes. It will get really bright seconds after the first part breaks the horizon.” He’d had a client ignore his advice and they’d been hurt from staring at the sun too long.

Dean and William grabbed their glasses as the horizon lightened, and then the first rays of the sun broke and glittered over the waves. It was breathtaking, and Dean sat still, out in the open, watching the sun rise.

“So how have you been?” William asked, moving to the seat nearest where Mike sat in his captain’s chair, watching the horizon and the GPS. “Is Carrie doing well?”

“She is,” Mike answered. “She and my mom are having a day of it.” He turned the wheel a little to stay on course. Mike’s job was to pilot the boat where they wanted to go, while Gordon would see that the guests were taken care of. The two of them had worked together for almost six years now, and they often knew what the other was going to do long before he actually did it.

“She’s ten now, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Her birthday was last week.” Mike couldn’t help smiling.

“I thought so.” William grabbed the old canvas backpack he always brought on board with him, pulled out a gift wrapped in pink paper and handed it to him. “I got her some books. You told me she liked to read. These were written by some friends of mine.”

Mike took the present. “Thank you. I’m sure she’ll love them.” He set the gift on the dash behind the mounted GPS, where it would stay dry until he could stow it with the rest of this things. “You didn’t have to do that.”

William smiled and simply nodded. “I thought she might like them.” He had never actually met Carrie, but Mike had talked about her enough on their previous trips.

“Is this your eighth charter with me?” Mike asked, trying to remember.

“I believe so. Twice a year for the last four years. It’s hard to believe.”

“Why so often?” Dean asked, and Mike turned to see where he was. Dean was most definitely green around the gills. Mike popped open the cooler he kept for guests and handed him a bottle of water.

“I love spending the time on the water, so I come down here twice a year to go fishing. No phones, television, Internet—nothing. It’s the greatest way I know to leave everything behind for a few hours and spend some time in nature, just you, the boat, water, and fish.” William pulled open his pack and handed a small packet to Dean. “Watch the horizon, drink some water, and take one of those. They’re Bonine. It will help with the seasickness.”

“I knew I should have taken something, but I never get motion sick.”

“It happens all the time,” Mike said. Nearly every charter had someone who got a little queasy. “Breathe slow and steady, get plenty of air in your lungs, and do your best to relax and not think about it.”

Dean nodded and sat still.

Mike kept an eye on him, and soon some of his color returned. “Don’t eat for a while.”

“Thanks.” Dean stayed seated in the covered section of the boat as Mike kept a lookout for the white floats that signaled where their traps were.

“There’s one, Mike,” William, old eagle eyes, said, and sure enough, he saw it.

Mike pulled right up to it and held the boat still while Gordon hauled in the trap. He added water to one of the bait boxes and dropped in the live fish. Mike helped Gordon rebait the trap, and they dropped it back in the water and continued on their way.

“Take it easy. We’re going to cruise for a while.” Mike opened up the engine, and they skidded over the water, chopping a little and sending up spray as they broke the waves. Mike loved this part of the trip, the anticipation of what they were going to catch. It also played to his sheer love of speed.

William stood next to him, watching out the front windows, energy flowing off him.

“How’s Dean doing?” Mike asked, keeping his eyes on the GPS system and the water ahead.

“Better. I think once he has something to do other than wonder if he’s going to be sick, Dean is going to be fine.”

“Good.” Mike hated it when his clients had a difficult time. He wanted them all to enjoy themselves, and that was hard to do when they were sick.

Mike continued going at full speed for over an hour. Then he slowed and turned on the fish finder, drifting along until he saw what looked like a promising indentation on the floor of the Gulf. Gordon dropped the anchor, and Mike set it, waiting for the boat to come around before helping Gordon get everything prepared.

“Where are you going to fish?” Gordon asked William, getting a pole all set up for him.

“Here’s good,” William said, nodding to a spot, and took the offered rod.

Gordon stayed with Dean to teach him to use the equipment while Mike went over to where William stood, ready to go.

“You remember how to use your thumb to keep the line from backlashing?” Mike got a piece of fish that Gordon had cut up and attached it to William’s hook.

“Of course,” William answered gently, lifting the pole and lowering his line into the water. It sank, and William set the line. Seconds later he tugged and then reeled quickly as he hauled in the first catch of the day.

Dean had a bite as well.

“Reel quickly,” Gordon told him.

William’s fish broke the surface first, a small grouper that Mike got off the line and measured before sliding it into the fish box and throwing some ice on top.

“That’s a beauty,” Mike said, rebaiting the hook so William could try again.

Dean landed a red snapper, and Gordon got it off his hook, threaded it on a holder, and gave it to Dean.

“Do you have your phone?”

Grinning, Dean handed it over.

Mike snapped multiple pictures of Dean and his first catch before returning the fish to the Gulf. Dean was all huge grins and excitement, ready to get his hook back in the water, seasickness forgotten now as the thrill and fun kicked in.

William landed another fish, but they had to release it. It dropped back into the water, heading downward.

“What’s that, Bubba?” Dean asked a few seconds later, pointing out into the water.

“The fish we released. They have swim bladders inside, and when we pull them up from eighty feet down, most of them can’t take it.”

“The state doesn’t let us keep the red snapper because it isn’t in season, but we end up killing most of them when we release them. It’s stupid, but that’s the rule.” It was such a waste, but then if they could keep them, everyone would fish specifically for the snappers…. Sometimes it sucked following the rules. “Pull in your lines and we’ll head out.”

Gordon pulled in the anchor, and they moved out. They still had a ways to go, but Mike wanted to give them a taste of what was to come. As he piloted, Mike put on his headphones and tuned to the marine forecast.

“Wind and waves on the Gulf are expected to decrease. Wind to decline from ten knots and waves from two to four feet becoming one to three feet by late afternoon. In the Atlantic, Tropical Storm Marshall threatens the East Coast and is expected to reach the coast north of Cape Canaveral before turning north. This unusually fast-moving storm is expected to intensify over the next few hours.”

It sounded like a great day to be on the Gulf and a miserable one for the Atlantic side of the state.

Mike set his headphones aside, rubbing his already sweating ears. “Feeling better?” he asked Dean, who’d taken a few minutes to lie down on the large cushion on top of the cover for the engine housing. It was the largest flat surface on the boat and mostly used as a seat.

“Yes. I figured resting might help.”

“Good idea. We’ll be at our next fishing spot in half an hour.” Mike continued piloting, doing his best to keep the boat steady.

“I love being out here,” William said as he joined Mike inside the open cabin. “Dean, you might want to put on sunscreen. Even in the shade, there’s enough reflection to get burned.”

Dean got his bag and began slathering himself up. William already had, and he smelled of coconut and the rich, almost sweet scent that Mike would know anywhere. He kept his attention where it needed to be, but William kept tugging at his senses.

Mike knew he was attracted to William. He’d figured that out the first time William had showed up for a charter. Mike had taken one look at his broad shoulders and small waist, hugged inside a tight T-shirt that might have been one size too small, and his heart had raced. Mike still had fantasies about that white shirt that showed off the ripples in William’s belly and the way William’s nipples stuck out the perfect suckable amount. It had been hard for Mike to keep his attention where it needed to be, and now, even after four years, it wasn’t any easier. William was the kind of guy Mike could fall for. But that wasn’t going to happen. The list of reasons was so long, it could reach to the bottom of the Gulf.

William was a sophisticated man from the Northeast who worked in the family business, making engine parts for tractors, cranes, bulldozers, and all kinds of specialty engines. He lived outside Providence and was highly educated. There wasn’t any way a guy like him would be interested in someone like Mike. Besides, Mike saw him two times a year for the better part of a day when William came fishing. Their lives and worlds couldn’t have been more different, so whatever interest Mike might have in William was going to remain that—interest. Not action, and certainly nothing more than friendship of a sort. The fact that William got Mike’s motor running faster than the one on the boat was immaterial. He lived in Apalachicola, a town of two thousand people who made their living on the Gulf and where most people had family going back generations. There weren’t gay people in town as far as he knew, and Mike had no intention of being the one and only so folks could look at him differently.

“Mike,” Gordon called, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are we getting close?”

“Yup.” Mike verified their position and turned on the fish finder, slowing down and checking out what was underneath them. “Go ahead and drop.” He slowed their speed even more, and Gordon released the anchor.

They came to a stop, the boat rocking on the waves as they got the guys ready. Mike let Gordon do his thing, and soon both Dean and William were reeling them in.

“I got a huge one!” William cried, his line whizzing out from the reel.

“Mike!” Gordon cried. “It broke the reel.” He hurried over as the line came to the end, nearly jerking the pole out of William’s hand.

Mike came up right behind him, taking hold of the rod as well, pressing to William’s back. “Get the large line spool. We can roll it onto that by hand.” He didn’t want to move but put space between them anyway, grateful for the distraction. Whatever William had was strong and large. Gordon passed him gloves, and he yanked them on, then pulled in more and more line. Foot after foot the line was retrieved, and William’s catch got closer to the surface.

“Shark,” Dean cried, pointing as a large yellow-gold body appeared from under the water.

“It’s a nurse shark,” Gordon said. “Odd to catch one during the day.”

Mike nodded his agreement. “I’d guess it’s about six feet.” He pulled back as the shark broke the surface right near the boat. “Someone snap a picture.” He held the line still, and Gordon got some pictures. So did Dean. Then Mike cut the line, and the shark took off back down into the water.

“Do you think it will survive?” William asked.

Mike shrugged, watching the waves, and thankfully the shark didn’t make an appearance as a floater.

Dean returned to his line, got a bite, and hauled in a really nice-size grouper, which went into the box with more ice.

“Let’s move on.”

Gordon hauled in the anchor, and they went in search of another location.

The morning passed with some nice catches. Dean and William ate lunch in the shade as Mike tried to locate a spot he’d had good luck with before. Out of habit and because of his mother’s warning, he checked the weather reports once again.

“Wind on the Gulf is still expected to diminish, as are the waves. However, Hurricane Marshall is continuing its fast pace toward the Space Coast, showing no signs as yet of turning north, has picked up speed, and will likely make landfall near Daytona Beach. It is now expected to turn north and ride up the center of the state and into Georgia.”

Mike sighed and took off his headphones. The weather wasn’t threatening, but he’d check in another hour for another update. Mike wasn’t so concerned about getting caught in the storm itself as much as the storm entering the Gulf and stirring up the waves.

He found a good location, and Gordon threw the anchor. While the guys fished, Mike ate his lunch and then switched with Gordon so he could eat as well, and William offered them whatever they wanted from his overflowing cooler.

The next few hours fell into a routine for Mike and Gordon, interrupted by Mike’s occasional daydreams about William. Mike checked the weather every hour. The next check had little new information, but the report at two was disturbing.

“Hurricane Marshall made landfall at Daytona Beach and has been downgraded to a tropical storm. The eye is currently twenty miles north of Orlando. It continues to move west-northwest at twenty-nine miles an hour and is now expected to enter the Gulf as a tropical storm, but could strengthen once it gets over water. Stay tuned for further advisories.”

Mike’s stomach clenched and he looked to the east. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the storm was hundreds of miles away. Usually Mike stayed out until six and then headed back to the marina.

William and Dean were both giddy from their latest catches. “This spot is amazing,” William said, turning to him with a smile that rivaled the sun.

“Then keep fishing,” Mike said distractedly.

“What’s going on?” Gordon asked when both men had their lines in the water.

“The storm didn’t turn north. It’s continued moving west and is now near Orlando. If its winds start to reach the Gulf, the waves are going to build quickly. It seems like they’ve pretty much given up trying to predict this sucker and are winging it.”

Gordon turned toward the water. “Give it a few more hours and we’ll head in. There’s no sense taking any chances, and they’re going to have plenty of fish by then at this rate.”

“I agree.” If the storm headed their way, he and Gordon were going to need time to secure everything. “I’ve been listening to the weather every hour anyway.”

Mike returned to work, and Gordon helped William and Dean replace their nibbled-away bait. Mike moved them to a few more spots, each one closer to shore. After two hours, he checked the forecast once again. The storm was now expected to continue on its current path. “All right. This is our last stop. We’ll stay here for about fifteen minutes and then head in. The storm that was supposed to turn north in the Atlantic didn’t. It’s crossing Florida and will hit the Gulf in a few hours. We don’t want to be out here when it does.”

The attitude on the boat immediately changed. Mike started getting things together while Gordon helped the guys fish. They caught mostly red snapper and threw them back. William got a small reef shark, and Gordon clubbed it enough to stun it and got the hook out, letting it drop back into the water. That brought the trip to an end, and Mike pointed the bow toward land and opened up the throttle.

Gordon gathered up all the equipment and began putting it away. “Sorry, guys, about cutting things short.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” Dean said with a wide grin. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, and this was an amazing day. One I’m going to remember for a long time.” He sat down nearby, and William took the seat right behind him. Mike was hyperaware of him and knew William was watching him.

The wind picked up slightly as they went, though thankfully the water’s surface remained calm. But it wasn’t going to stay that way once the storm passed over Florida.

“Does anyone have a signal on their phone?” Mike asked.

“I’m checking,” William answered from behind him. “I have something, but not enough to really do any good. I could probably make a call if necessary, but….” William didn’t finish his thought as the power to the engine cut out.

“Fire!” Gordon yelled.

Mike switched the controls off immediately. Black smoke poured from the engine compartment vents, and Mike sprang to his feet, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and ushered Dean and William as far away as possible. Gordon got into position and tugged on the rope that would lift the engine cover, with Mike ready to douse any flames.

There were none, just huge billows of black smoke.

“Can you see anything?” Gordon asked as the wind took the smoke out over the water.

“Yeah. The turbocharger separated from the engine.” Mike set down the extinguisher, grateful there was no actual fire, and raced into the front cabin to get the tool kit. “Let it cool down,” he called as he rejoined Gordon, who peered into the engine compartment.

“Can you fix it?” Dean asked.

“I can,” Gordon said. “I just need to reconnect them.” He started getting the spare parts he’d need while Mike radioed into the harbor and to the Coast Guard. He explained their situation and that they were calling to put them on alert.

“Can I do anything to help?” William asked.

“Do you know about this engine?”

William laughed. “My family’s company built parts for this one.”

“Whatever you can do is appreciated.” Mike finished with the Coast Guard, and both Gordon and William got to work on the engine as the boat rocked and bobbed in the waves.

“The connector is shot,” William said and began working with some of the ones Mike had on board. William ended up splicing two pieces together, and then Gordon got it around the connection and tightened it down.

“I think that will do.” Gordon stepped out of the well and lowered the cover. When he was clear, Mike started the engine and slowly powered it up. “It’s holding.”

Mike nodded and opened up the engine, getting them closer to land as quickly as he could.

A gust of wind raced through the cabin, and Mike willed the repair to hold. They had lost an hour fixing the engine, and in that time, the weather had starting to turn. The storm itself was hours away, but if it was entering the Gulf, then they would be among the very first people in their area of the state to feel it.

The wind picked up. Not to a threatening level, but enough to cause the waves to build, and what had been quite calm half an hour earlier was getting rougher by the minute. “I need everyone sitting down,” Mike called. “We have about another hour before we enter the protection of the channel, and I don’t want anyone getting thrown overboard.” He also didn’t want to slow down unless he had to.

He checked the weather one more time, but he didn’t need the information to tell him what he already knew. While the main part of the storm hadn’t reached the Gulf, some of the wind had and was propelling the water and fueling the waves.

The Gulf was huge, but it also had a lot in common with a bathtub, so what disturbed part of it was going to be felt across the rest of the body of water. The waves were about four feet now, but climbing, with heavier ones crashing into the bow. All that Mike could think about was that the repair had to hold and he needed to get everyone and his boat back to the harbor as quickly as possible.

The sun still shone brightly and there were only hints of clouds on the horizon, but the waves were approaching five feet as the shore got closer and more distinct.

Mike had never been so glad to see home in his life.

As he pulled into the mouth of the harbor, the protection of the land did its job and the water calmed to glass. Mike slowed the boat, cutting his wake as he headed upstream, closer and closer to the slip. His hands shook as he turned the boat to back in, and then Gordon began fastening the lines. Mike cut the engine and switched everything off before helping the guys load their fish into coolers and carry their gear off the boat.

“You have safe places to be? Who knows where this thing is going to end up, but you need to get away from the water.”

“What about the boat?” William asked. “If it gets bad, what will happen to it?”

“The cove is protected, and I have to rely on that and whatever extra mooring Gordon and I can do to protect it.” Mike wished there was more, but it was one of the hazards of doing business on the water. He didn’t have the equipment to lift the boat out and transport it away, so he had to settle for what protection the harbor would give him. In addition, he paid hefty insurance premiums to cover any damage.

“Is there anything we can do to help get it ready for the storm?” William asked as he carried his cooler off the boat and set it on the dock.

“I don’t think so. Just get yourselves someplace safe and secure. I don’t know if the storm will intensify or not.” Mike shook hands with him, wondering, like he had for the last few visits, if this would be the last time he saw William or not. The thought that it could be left him unsettled, but there was nothing he could do about it, and Mike had long ago accepted that his life was one that he’d most likely spend alone.

“Is that the last of it?” Gordon asked once Mike returned to the boat.

“Yeah, Bubba. Let’s get the boat stripped as best we can. Take all the fishing equipment and put it in the back of my truck. The cushions can go in the cabin. We can’t leave anything on deck that might get picked up by the wind or it could damage one of the other boats.”

They had been through this drill before and both of them got to it. Mike packed up the electronic equipment and took it, along with a load of other equipment, to his truck. He piled it in the back and returned. The cooler was next, and Gordon brought more equipment. They worked quickly as clouds cast a haze over the sun. Mike knew those were just the first wave of what was going to be a steadily worsening weather picture. His mother had been right to be worried, and he should have known there was more to it than just her nerves.

“I have all the lines secured, and everything is off the boat that’s of any value.”

“Unfasten the sun cover and let’s put that in the cabin as well. At least the wind will have less to grip onto.” Mike loosened the lashings and wound up the rope, and Gordon folded the cover, then added it to the stowed items. Once they were done, Mike grabbed Carrie’s present before closing and locking the cabin door. “I think that’s all we can do.”

“Yeah. Let’s get away from the water.” Gordon tipped his hat and hurried to his truck, backed out, and hurried away. He lived ten minutes away, but closer to the water than Mike did, and would need to make storm preparations at home.

Mike took one more look at his boat, his livelihood, and hoped that if the storm came this direction, it would survive the next twenty-four hours.

He turned away as other captains pulled in. He waved, and most waved back. His first instinct was to help them get ready for the storm, but Carrie was at home and he needed to see her and make sure everything there was battened down tight.

The grinding of an engine that wasn’t turning over pulled his attention, and Mike walked over to William’s rental car.

“The dang thing isn’t starting.” William got out, slamming the door closed behind him. “I need to call the company and see what they say.”

“Let’s have a look.” Mike motioned, and William opened the door to pop the hood. Mike released the latch and saw the problem immediately and suspected William probably did as well. “The wires out of the starter are fried, so the engine isn’t getting the signal to start.” Not something he could fix. “Where are you staying?”

“I came down from Georgia for the day and was planning to head back to my hotel and then to Atlanta tomorrow for meetings.” William pulled out his phone as Mike closed the hood on the expensive car. He paced back and forth, most likely on hold, becoming more and more agitated as the minutes wore on. “Finally. My rental car won’t start.” He gave all the information. “I’m at the pier in Apalachicola.”

Mike leaned against the car, waiting for William to complete his call.

“You have to be kidding me.” William continued packing back and forth, his footsteps turning to stomps. “I’m aware that the storm has switched paths and that everyone is gearing up. I’m near the water with a car you rented to me that doesn’t start. I know you can tow it, but how do I get another one? I see…. Thanks for nothing.” William hung up, still pacing.

“No other car.”

“The nearest location is at the Tallahassee airport, but that doesn’t do any good because they’re out of cars. It seems everyone is trying to get out of Dodge, and they’re grabbing every available car to head north, which is exactly what I was going to do.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair.

Mike wasn’t about to leave William here. “Can you get a hotel somewhere? I can take you there.”

“I can try. Thanks.” William got on the phone once again, and from the sounds of it, came up empty. “Looks like I’m batting zero. So many people are stranded that hotels are full.” William paced again. “Maybe I can get a private plane or a limousine to get me to my hotel.”

Mike opened the door to his truck. “Let’s transfer your things to my truck, and you can come home with me. I have a small extra room, if you don’t mind that Carrie uses it for her dolls and things. It has a bed, and you can wait out the storm there.”

William smiled. “Really? Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Mike waited for William to transfer his gear and then pulled out of the parking lot.

William smelled divine, and the truck filled with his earthy warmth, even over the air-conditioning, which did nothing to cool the heat that rose inside Mike. He pulled out onto the main road and then turned inland away from the waterfront to the more affordable part of town, wondering just how he was going to keep his distance with William under his rather small roof.