I help Rusty load the last of the catch onto the truck so he can take them to market. I’m feeling pretty good about this week. Today’s catch came in at a pretty good weight, making up for a few setbacks last week. I turn back for the pile of ropes lying on the dock, scoop a few up into my arms, and toss them over the truck bed. I tie mine off, then head around the bed to help Summer with hers.

“I’m fine,” she says, seeing me approach. I take one of the ropes anyway and tie it off just as she finishes hers. We both move for the last one, our hands grabbing it at the same time. She scowls, trying to tug the rope from my grasp, but I hold fast, slightly relieved to hear her snap at me. She’s been uncommonly nice to me today and I was beginning to worry that I’d be stuck with this boring version of Summer all season. She may be annoying, but I’d take a fiery first mate over a yes-man any day.

Summer tugs harder. “I know how to tie a square knot, Koa.”

“Since when?”

“Since I learned to tie my own shoes in second grade!”

We stare at each other, Summer’s eyes flashing in the setting sun. There’s the Summer I’d come to know. I step back and let the rope go. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you.” She finishes off the knot a moment later and steps back. “Anything else?”

I glance around the quiet harbor. Friday afternoons were always a ghost town. Most fishermen took off early for weekend plans or a seat at the bar. “We’ve already cleaned up, so we’re good.”

Summer relaxes. “Great. So, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah…” I shake my head. “No, wait. Take the whole weekend off.”

Her eyes go wide. “Really? Why?”

I shrug and make up some reason that has nothing to do with Bryce or my birthday. “You’ve worked hard these past two weeks. You need a break or you’ll get tired and go back to making mistakes.”

Summer cocks her head. “Go back? So that means I’ve stopped?”

I glance away.

“Sounds like a compliment…”

I rub the back of my neck. “I guess.”

“Ha! I’ll take it!” She turns on her heel and grabs her bag off the dock. “Okay, well, have a good weekend,” she says as she heads down the dock.

“Uh, yeah. Same,” I call after her. I slap the side of the truck and wave to Rusty. He waves back and puts the truck in gear. It lurches out of the parking lot a moment later. I grab my own bag and start down after Summer, mentally listing all the things I need to do before Bryce gets here. Cleaning is one of them and food shopping the other.

I look up to see Summer standing in the middle of the dock, back turned, stiff as a board. Suddenly she throws back her head, sighs, and turns on her heels. She locks eyes with me. “Do you want to grab a drink with me?”

“Uh, what?”

“A drink. With me. At a bar.” Her foot begins to tap the warped planks of the worn pier as she waits for my answer.

She’s impatient…or nervous.

“I’m good, but thanks.”

Her jaw drops. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got stuff to do.”

She plants a hand on her hip. “Like what, Koa? You’re never busy.”

“Well, tonight I am,” I say, ignoring that last comment. I try to push past her but she blocks my way.

“Look, I’m trying here.”

I stop and stare at her. So she is going out of her way to be nice to me! “It’s not you. Bars just aren’t my scene.”

“Why don’t you make an exception just this once?”

“Because…” I trail off, trying to think of a valid excuse. I can’t, so I’m left with two options: flatly refuse and risk permanently hurting her feelings—tempting because it may finally get her out of my hair—or accepting. I’m not cruel, so I go with the only valid option. “Alright. Fine.”

Summer’s face brightens. “Cool. Have a place you like?”

“The Thirsty Pig isn’t bad.”

“The Thirsty Pig it is, then!” Summer cries, taking my arm and leading me up the dock. Her touch takes me by surprise and I tense up, but luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Summer stops when we reach the end of the dock. She looks around and frowns. “Uh…I just realized I have no idea where we’re going.”

I laugh and motion to the left. “Follow me.”

Ten minutes later, we’re shoved into a sticky high top near the stage. The bar’s usually crowded, but on a Friday summer night, it’s packed to the gills. Locals and tourists alike mingle in the room, pushing through any gaps that become available at the bar to get their order in.

When I said bars weren’t my scene, it was actually this mess I was referring to. The constant chatter, the shoving of strangers, the racket on stage as the band sets up. It’s enough to drive a man mad.

Summer, on the other hand, seems perfectly fine. She surveys the crowd for a gap like a shark circling its prey. I know she’s spotted one when her eyebrows jump up. “I’ll be right back!” she hollers over the noise.

I start to get up. “No, let me—”

“Nonsense! I dragged you out here, so let me buy the first round.” Before I can argue further, Summer’s out of her chair and heading for the empty chair that a local just vacated. I spot the guy heading for the door and feel a pang of jealously. Too bad we couldn’t trade places.

I glance back over at Summer, who’s somehow managed to flag down the harangued bartender in record time. I could still leave, get up and walk out without anyone noticing…

Except for Summer.

I sigh and lean back, knowing that I’m staying right where I am for the next few hours or until Summer grows old with me. Based on our relationship, that should be in about ten minutes. At least, I think. Summer’s full of surprises, as I’m quickly finding out. She’s gone from a total disaster to a novice fisherman in under two weeks. She could really hold her own out on the water. I remember Captain’s predication that Summer would be invaluable as a first mate. She was…kinda. Well, she wasn’t making my life harder.

Two pint glasses plunk down in front of me. Summer grabs the empty seat across from me, pushes back her hair, and smiles at me. “Phew!” she says, sliding her brimming dark porter across the table. “This place is packed.”

“I guess everyone’s in weekend mode already.” I grab my glass. A Scottish ale, exactly what I drink when I’m in the mood for beer.

“And vacation,” Summer adds, looking around at the only two demographics in the room: preppy city people and seasoned locals. “I’d forgotten how popular Portland is in the summer.”

“That’s why summer’s such a big haul.”

“Are we back on schedule, by the way?”

I nod. “We’re getting there.”

“Is it okay that we’re taking off this weekend, then?” she asks, taking a sip.

“Don’t worry about it. One weekend isn’t going to sink us.”

Summer chokes on her porter. I reach over and slap her on the back as she starts coughing. “You okay?”

She nods and points a finger at me. “A pun!”

“A what?”

“You just made a pun!”

I stare at her for a moment before it hits me. “Oh, man,” I groan. “Sorry.”

“No, I love it!” My breath catches as she gives me that dazzling smile of hers. “You’re lightening up.”

“I doubt that,” I mutter, trying to regain my footing. Don’t get too close. She’s just a distraction. “So what are you doing with your weekend off?”

Summer’s face lights up. “My roommate’s coming to visit. Maddison Winter.”

Now it’s my turn to choke. “Maddison what?”

“What?” she says, giving me a look. I can tell she knows what’s coming.

“Summer? Winter?”

She scowls at me. “Right. Like we haven’t heard that one.”

“Sorry, it’s just comical.”

She rolls her eyes. “What about you? Any plans?”

I hesitate, unsure of how much to say. Should I tell her about my own friend coming up to visit? Or about my birthday? We seem to be getting along (for once) and she is sharing personal stuff about herself. The polite thing to do would be to share a little bit about my plans.

I take a sip of beer to fill the silence. Too bad I’m not a “polite guy.” I’m the captain of a fleet with a lot on his shoulders, and I’m not here to get buddy-buddy with my first mate, the granddaughter of my boss.

I shrug. “Nothing.” I ignore the crestfallen look on Summer’s face. “I have some things I’ve been putting off that I’ll get around to.”

“Like what?” she asks, perking up a little.

“Nothing special. Cleaning, fixing up my boat, seeing my dad—” I stop, realizing I’ve said too much.

Sure enough, Summer jumps on that slip-up like a fish on a line. “Your dad? Does he live far away?”

I shake my head. “He’s in town.”

“Cool. So what does he do?”

Nope. I’m not doing this. I pick up my glass and down the rest of my beer in one giant gulp. “Want another?” I ask, pushing away from the table. “On me this time.”

Summer glances at her half-full beer and frowns. “Sure.”

I move off toward the bar without another word. As I fight my way toward the counter, I scold myself for what I’m sure is an overreaction. Summer couldn’t know that I have a less than great relationship with my dad, that although I pass his house every day, I barely see the man, or that I’m even planning on seeing him on my birthday. She’s just trying to be friendly, and I did what I always do: push people away.

I stumble forward and press up against the bar. By some miracle of God, the bartender happens to be standing right there. “Another Scottish and porter, please.” I grab a ten out of my wallet and lay it on the counter. The bartender returns in record time and hands me the pints.

“Thanks.” I turn around and push back through the wall of people now vying for my empty spot at the bar. I break free eventually, the beers still intact and filled to the brim, and scan around for our table. I spot Summer’s bright blonde hair, start forward, and then stop. A scowl tugs at my lips as I realize she’s not alone.

A tall, slim guy with dark brown hair and brown eyes is leaning over my chair, hands planted on the table, as he chats up my first mate. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I know the scumbag she’s talking to. Or should I say, I know his reputation. He’s known for slipping certain items into pretty girls’ cups while they’re too busy staring into his eyes and for taking things too far when he gets them alone. The last girl he did that to pressed charges. Too bad his parents are well connected, or maybe this douche would be locked up in a cell somewhere instead of leaning in on unsuspecting tourists.

My breath catches in my throat as I wait for Summer to tell him to get lost, but when she throws her head back and laughs, I lose hope. Looks like the asshole has turned on the charm.

“Hey,” I say, coming to a stop in front of our table. I glance at our new “friend” and then back at Summer. “You okay?”

Summer nods, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I was just chatting with… Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“Mike,” the creep says, leaning in close. “But you can call me Mikey.”

Summer frowns at his tone. “Oh. Um, okay.”

Good. At least she’s not blind to creeps.

I place the beers on the table and step around it. “Mike? I think it’s time you moved on.”

Mike throws me an annoyed glance before turning back to Summer. “But I was just getting to know this pretty little thing here.”

Summer scrunches up her nose. “My name’s Summer.”

“Summer…” Mike repeats coyly. “Hot and steamy, like you.”

I try not to barf. “Okay. Move it, dude.”

Mike turns to me, his “game face” going dark as he meets my eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rendell.”

“I’m not telling you anything. I’m suggesting you leave my first mate alone, that’s all.”

“First mate?” He turns and gives Summer a once-over, his eyes lingering a little too long on her breasts for my liking. “Yeah, right.”

My blood begins to boil as Summer’s face turns bright red. “Show some respect. She’s Boothe’s granddaughter.”

“That so? Well, if you’re looking for some fun this summer, Summer, then give me a call.”

“No, thank you,” Summer says confidently.

“Come on, baby.” Mike reaches out his hand and grazes her cheek with his fingertips. Summer shuts her eyes and flinches away.

I shove a chair out of my way and step forward. “Move. Now. I won’t ask again.” My tone conveys exactly what will happen if I have to repeat myself.

Mike’s eyes go wide. “Keep it cool, keep it cool…” He moves off at a glacial pace, but not before giving Summer one more greedy look. Summer curls her lip like she’s got a bad taste in her mouth. I relax only after Mike’s back at the bar, chatting up another poor female that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Summer lets out her breath in one long sigh. “God, that guy was so slimy. He came out of nowhere and started talking to me. I thought he was harmless at first, but—”

I twist and face her. “He’s not harmless, so I suggest you stay away from him.”

She stares at me. “Excuse me?”

“Mike McKarney’s got a reputation a mile long. Don’t talk to him again.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t tell me what to do, Koa.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m only looking out for you.”

“And I appreciate that,” she says slowly, “but you still can’t order me around like that.”

“I’m your captain.”

“Not on dry land,” she bites back. “You can boss me around all you want on the boat, but not here.”

“You really want to talk to that creep?”

She scowls. “No! But I’m a grown woman and I’ll do what I want.”

We glare at each other from across the table. The idea that we were finally getting friendly goes overboard. Summer and I are back to our old, bickering, aggravating relationship. Probably for the best. Getting too friendly with your business partners never ended well.

“Suit yourself,” I snap, scraping the stool across the gritty floor and throwing myself onto its uncomfortable padded seat. I shove her beer toward her and grab my own, a few drops of the liquid sloshing over the side and onto the table in front of me. A moody silence settles over us, the only two people in a noisy, packed bar not having a good time. The silence drags on as we sip our beers, each avoiding the other’s angry eyes.

Whatever. I don’t need this. Summer’s right, anyway, she’s a big girl and can handle herself just fine.

“I’m tired,” I say, taking one last gulp of my beer and setting it on the sticky tabletop. I keep my eyes on my beer as I shove back and get to my feet. I feel her eyes on me but I don’t look up. “Have a good weekend.”

She snorts and leans back in her chair, clutching her beer to her chest with white knuckles. “Right. Sure.”

I fight the urge to look at her and fail, my eyes finding her face as guilt surges within me. There’s anger and frustration in her flushed cheeks and hard eyes, but hurt too. I don’t linger on the hurt. I can’t.

I let out a long breath and shrug. “Alright. See you,” I mutter, turning on my heel and heading for the door. A few moments later, the breath explodes from my lungs as I trade the stuffy bar for the open sky. My feet choose a direction and start walking, no destination in mind as long as it’s away from this damn bar and Summer’s hurt eyes.

Why do I care so much? What’s she to me? It’s not like she’s mine…

I grind to a halt. Why isn’t that idea making me more uncomfortable? Why does the thought of Summer being more to me than an irritating co-worker not have me running for the hills?

I look out over the water. Am I interested in Summer?

I give myself a hard shake. God, no. I’m just overwhelmed and tired and been in the sun too long. I’m not falling for Summer Rae. I’m not because I don’t have time for distractions. Summer is a distraction. Her bright brown eyes are a distraction. Her musical laugh and dry sense of humor are a distraction. And her fiery attitude and snarky comments and stubbornness are definitely a distraction.

I turn around and head for my truck. I don’t need this irksome girl interfering with what’s important. I need to fish, work on my sailboat, and get the hell out of Portland.