I look up and find my annoying “first mate” doing her darnedest to ruin the giant reel affixed to the side of the boat. I thought I’d reached my limit when Summer opened the wrong door on the lobster pot and let a huge catch swim free. Or when she threw a bucket of perfectly good bait over the side instead of the runoff water. Or when she simultaneously lost all our fishing line and tied a line into a herculean knot. I’m not even sure how that last one’s possible, but Summer managed it.

But all that paled in comparison to this. If she puts that reel out of order, then we might as well call it quits, because we’re useless out here without it.

“Summer!” I yell. Her head snaps up as I stomp over to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Her hands go still as she stares at me. “I…I was trying to disentangle the line.”

I glance down at the mess around her. Disentangle? Fat chance. “Why was it even tangled in the first place?”

“Ahh…yes, I can explain that.”

“I’d love to hear it, because that reel was in perfect working order when we left dock this morning. And now—” I wave my hand at the catastrophe lying in a heap on the deck “—it’s a shitshow.”

“I’m sorry! I think I pushed the wrong button when I was trying to move it over the side. It wouldn’t stop lowering so I, uh, pushed another button to make it go back up and…”

“Well?”

She flinches. “It collapsed on the deck.”

I throw my head back and groan. “That button is for when we’re dropping our catch on the deck. The deck, Summer! Not the ocean!” I step forward and snatch the line out of her hands. “Just let me handle this. I think you’ve done enough.”

Her teeth tug on her bottom lip. “I said I was sorry.”

“So? That doesn’t change the fact that we’re dead in the water until I fix this. Can’t bring the pots up if we don’t have a working reel.”

“Hey, I’m new at this! Cut me a little slack.”

I take a deep breath and remember who’s granddaughter she is. That, and that alone, has kept me from pitching her over the side today. “Sorry,” I struggle out through grit teeth. “I’m just…”

Angry, overworked, and annoyed you’re here?

“…stressed.”

“And that’s why I’m here, to help, but I’ll need a little guidance. I’ve never done anything like this.”

I stare at her. Oh. I know.

It was a nasty and unwelcome surprise when Captain called me up to tell the “good news,” as he put it. He found me a first mate! And was it a professional, experienced fisherman at the top of his game? No! It was his city-dwelling, twenty-something granddaughter! You can imagine that I had a few questions for the old man.

Had she ever been commercial fishing before? No.

Had she ever caught a lobster? Afraid not.

Had she ever been on a frickin’ boat? Yes.

Oh okay, I can work with that…

Five years ago.

Shit. And now this walking hurricane and I are supposed to lead his fleet of five boats during the height of the season. What exactly had I done to deserve this?

Summer glances over her shoulder at the heap of fishing rods leaning next to the stairs. “Why don’t I organize those so they’ll be easy to reach when we need them?”

I look up from the knot in my hands and frown. Organize fishing rods? What? We don’t even use them. “I don’t think that’s…” I trail off as an idea hits me. “Actually, sure! That’s a great idea.”

Summer beams under my approval. “I’ll get right to it…captain,” she adds with a grin.

I force a tight smile on my face as she moves off. Sure, go ahead and do a completely ridiculous and useless task. In fact, as I work on the knot from hell, I start thinking of an entire list of menial tasks that will keep Summer occupied. If I’m going to be stuck with her, the least I can do is keep her alive and out of my hair.

There’s organizing the maps in alphabetical order…mopping the deck before we push off (that one’s completely pointless, but safe)…organizing the lobster pots…

A thunderous crash of metal on metal jars me out of my happy thoughts. A quick glance around the deck uncovers that Summer’s managed to do the impossible: she’s bungled a totally useless task. My jaw drops as I survey the scene. Rods are everywhere, a few are broken, even more are tangled. All the lines are off their reels and a few have even fallen down the stairs that lead belowdeck.

I watch through horrified eyes as a few rods roll toward the back of the boat. They’re heading right for the panel that leads to the ladder. The panel that should have been closed. One guess who forgot to close it after she threw the bait over the side.

I drop the rope and lunge for the rods. Captain will kill me if I lose his top-of-the-line equipment. “No! They’re going over the—”

I yell as my feet connect with a knot the size of Texas. My hands dart out to try to catch the railing, but I end up heading for the deck instead. I twist my body at the last moment and land on my ass. Hard.

A gasp behind me draws my attention. Summer wide-eyed and pointing at my feet. “Be careful, you’re all caught in the line!”

“I know,” I snap, twisting and tugging at the coarse fibers entangling my legs. I’m breaking the cardinal sin of fishing: don’t get caught in the line. It’s the easiest way to get swept over the side, and it’s no easy feat to tread water when your legs are trapped in rope.

“Let me help you—”

“No1” I point over her shoulder as she starts toward me. “The rods, save the rods.”

Summer whirls around and catches sight of the runaway equipment. A groan escapes me as the first rod goes tumbling over the side. I’m a dead man walking once Captain finds out.

Summer grabs the closest rod to her and flings it back toward the pile, then darts forward and scoops up the second, tossing it back with the others. I let out a sigh of relief as she gets the situation under control, and turn my attention back to these knots. They’re insanely tight, which I want to blame on Summer, but I’m pretty sure it’s from my thrashing around. A few more pulls and tugs and twists and I’m free.

I glance up and make sure Summer’s still on task. She’s added the third rod to the pile and is heading back for the last one. It’s dangerously close to the edge, and the idea of Summer anywhere near that open panel makes me break out in a cold sweat.

I leap to my feet and start toward her. “Let me get that last one. I’m used to these rough seas, and it’s a long way down to the water.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, not slowing down. Her steps are jilted and unsteady as the deck sways and rolls under us. Summer doesn’t have her sea legs yet. That, plus an open side, is a bad combo.

“Wait!” I shout, quickening my steps.

Summer looks back at me. “It was my fault so I’ll fix it!”

“But I’d rather—”

I’m cut off as the boat lurches to the right, then left. Luckily, I’m hugging the railing. Summer isn’t so lucky.

I watch in slow motion as she wobbles side to side before finally being pitched forward. Her arms slice out in front of her as she tries to regain her balance, but it doesn’t help. She’s headed straight for the gap.

“Whoa!” Her yelp is followed by a loud splash as she disappears from sight.

I stand there for a moment, trying to decide if this was real or some sick joke. Did Summer really just find the only gap in the goddamn railing and fall through it?

Yes. Yes she did.

I moan and spring into action, cutting the engine and dropping anchor. I doubt Summer’s thinking clearly enough to find the ladder and climb back on board, so it looks like I’m getting wet. I tug off my shirt, kick off my shoes, and run to the back of the boat, diving off the edge into the choppy sea. The icy cold water shocks my system, attacking my skin and muscles like a thousand knives as I twist up and swim for the surface. My lungs gasp for air as my chest breaks through the whitecaps, filling my nostrils with the stinging ocean spray.

I spin around and search the water for Summer. My eyes find her a moment later, swimming toward the ladder a few yards from me.

Okay. Fair enough. Maybe she does have common sense. I kick out my legs and start toward her, slicing through the water with quick, hard strokes. “Are you okay?”

She twists her head around. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah,” I say, caught off guard. Why is she worried about me? “Can you reach the ladder?”

“I’m trying, but the water’s really choppy.”

“Here…” I swim up beside her and wrap my hands around her waist, foisting her up above the whitecaps. I catch my breath as her soft curves press against my chest, so warm and small in my arms. I drag my eyes over her face, now only inches from mine. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide as she struggles to keep herself afloat in the uneven surf. A droplet of water falls from her eyelash onto her cheek and slides down to her full, pouty lips…

“Koa?”

I snap my eyes back to hers, remembering who I’m holding and why. “Sorry.” I kick out my legs and swim us the remaining few yards to the ladder. Summer’s hands dart out and grab the ladder, pulling her up and out of my grasp. My chest turns ice cold without her soft warmth in my arms.

The ladder ring slips from her hands as the boat bobs and sways with the waves. She kicks forward and reaches up, only to have the ladder sway out of reach again.

I move up behind her and grasp her waist, steadying her in the uneven surf. “I’m here, Summer,” I murmur behind her. “Just take your time.”

She takes a deep breath and reaches up, grasping for that rung. It takes her two more attempts, but eventually she’s able to drag herself onto the ladder. A few more steps and she’s pulling herself over the side and onto the deck. I grab the metal ladder railing, heave myself up, and join her a few moments later.

“You okay?” I ask. She nods as she catches her breath. I give her about ten more seconds, then lay into her. “I can’t help but notice that the panel was left open.”

Summer looks away. “I may have forgotten to close it earlier.”

“Yes,” I say, my voice low and tense. “That’s just one of the long list of things you did horribly wrong today.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you just went over the side.”

“But I lost my balance.”

I scowl. “You shouldn’t have been over there in the first place.”

“I was only trying to help!”

“You should have listened to me!”

We glare at each other, my tall frame looming over her shaking body. She looks so silly, so infuriating, as she stands there, drenched from head to toe, trying to outstare me.

Summer steps back and lets out a pent-up breath. “Why aren’t you teaching me?”

“There’d be no point. It’d take months to get you up to speed, and I don’t have months.”

“You’re overreacting. I’d be ready in just a few weeks.”

“Well I can’t even take that long. I’m already behind this season, and you’re not helping.” I motion behind her at the mess she’s created in one single day. “At this rate, you’re just slowing me down.”

Summer looks at her feet, hurt and pain flitting across her face as my words sink in. “You don’t want me here, do you?”

I shrug and look away.

“Well—” She stops and clears her throat. “I’ll just stay out of your way, then.”

I try to ignore the tears in her voice but fail miserably. The boats sways beneath my feet as my conscience rears its ugly head, both throwing me off my game. I’m being a class-A jerk. This wasn’t her fault. Well. Not all her fault.

My eyes sweep around the deck, taking in the tattered net, broken fishing rods, and empty bait buckets. I’ve reached my limit. I can’t fish and keep the Boothes’ granddaughter from killing herself.

A man can only take so much.

“You know what?” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we call it quits.”

“Yeah. Sure.” She turns and drags her feet toward the stairs. “I’ll be in the galley if you need me.” I give an audible sigh of relief. Finally, somewhere that she can’t destroy this boat and my self-restraint.

I’ve just stepped behind the wheel when Summer pokes her head up the stairs. “Koa? I noticed there are some piles of life preservers down here. Do you want me to straighten them out?”

Life preservers? My chest clenches in fear.

“No!” I shout, putting a frown on her face. “Um, leave those alone for now,” I say in a more neutral tone. “You’ve had a trying afternoon. Just, uh, chill.”

She nods and disappears belowdeck, my grip relaxing on the helm when I don’t hear rustling from down below. I can only imagine the havoc she would wreak on that task. On this boat’s “must haves” list, life preservers are pretty far up there.

I plot a course for harbor, chalking up today as an utter loss. I don’t care if Summer means well or if she’s the granddaughter of my boss. I would rather find myself surrounded by sarcastic, sweater-vest-wearing hipsters than go back out on the waters with her. Because the last thing I need right now is a walking, talking, distractingly pretty hurricane dragging my boat down to the bottom of the Atlantic.