pulse palpitated like butterfly wings. Why did he keep staring at her that way? Men didn’t notice her. Unless to remind her to pull her weight on the boat. Men noticed Honey.
Was he making fun of her? Setting her up to be the butt of a joke?
She edged past him to give the table a good scrub.
He pursed his lips. “Ah.”
She cocked an eyebrow into a question mark.
He pointed to the soap dispenser. “Lime.”
Now she was sure he mocked her. “It gets the fish smell off.”
Honey smelled of flowers. She, on the other hand...
Blinking fast, she swiveled toward the table.
“Hey, I wasn’t...” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking—”
“That’s dangerous.”
“I made a call to the Chief.”
She continued scrubbing, keeping her back to him.
“To Reverend Parks, too.”
She tensed.
“He recommended a fellow parishioner in Onancock who owns a heated pool.”
Pivoting, she focused on him, the dishcloth hanging from her hand. “What are you talking about?”
He eyed the cloth as if it were a weapon. “Max.”
She narrowed her eyes into slits. “What about Max?”
“He’s surrounded by water, Amelia. It’s irrespons—”
Amelia sucked in a quick breath.
Braeden held his hands, palm up. “Wrong choice of words. But you know after what happened today, he’s got to get right back in the water or potentially be enslaved to a fear of it forever.”
She clamped her teeth together so tightly her molars ached. “What’s this got to do with you?”
“I want to teach him. On my off-watch days. Work on it this summer with him as a friend.”
Summer... So far off. Maybe unreachable for Max.
Fighting the fear, Amelia seized on the next best distraction—her anger.
“Be his friend?” She snorted. “Until you’re transferred to a more exciting assignment.”
“Stop smothering him. It’s clear he resents that.” His rugged profile hardened. “Two-or three-year assignments, Amelia, and then you move on. You grew up here. You know that’s the Guard way.”
Amelia flung the dishcloth toward the sink. The hand-launched missile missed his head by a few inches. A few carefully calculated inches.
“What I know is after Mom died, Lindi and Caroline both went offshore. Lindi took up with this Norfolk-based Coastie who she later discovered kept a woman in every port. By the time she found out, she was pregnant with Max.”
Braeden pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows. “Men who stray will stray whether they’re military or civilian.” His scowl deepened. “And as often as not, it’s the home front sweetheart who Dear Johns returning sailors, soldiers and Coasties.”
“That Coastie, whom Max posthumously adores, got stinking drunk one night on leave in San Diego, fell into the water and drowned his sorry self.” She crossed her arms. “So Lindi came home. But two weeks shy of her due date, a drunk driver crossed the median on Highway 13 and plowed into her car.”
“Amelia, I’m sorr—”
“Lindi died in my arms at Riverside Memorial after going into labor. With her last breath, she begged me to take care of Max.”
“So you quit school and your dad—”
“I never made it to school. Dad went into a dark place after Mom died. And then when Lindi...”
“You stayed and took care of Max, your dad and Honey. Putting aside your own dreams.”
Returning to the window, she shrugged. “That was the least of it. When Max turned three, he was diagnosed with leukemia.”
For a moment, she relived that awful time.
Max shuddered with fear at the mere sight of the building where he received his chemo. She shrank inside at the memory of his pitiful cries for his Mimi not to take him into that place. How he’d begged her to go home instead.
How she’d held him down when the nurse inserted the poison into his port—
Braeden’s breath hitched and Amelia realized she’d spoken out loud. To this near stranger she’d spilled the words she’d locked inside herself. Before she could react further, he strode across the room and took her into his arms.
Leaning into his firm chest, she gave in to another’s comfort for once. His essence filled her senses. Tropical breezes laden with sandalwood. A delicious combination of paradise and something all Braeden Scott.
Maybe a friend?
She lacked the energy or vision to contemplate more. Hadn’t she learned the hard way not to trust a Coastie—or anyone besides herself and God? Besides, men like Braeden didn’t look twice at a tomboy like her.
Embarrassed, she twisted away.
Two-or three-year assignment. Here today, gone as soon as she let her guard down.
She chewed at her lower lip, smearing the pink gloss she’d borrowed from Honey’s dresser.
“You’re right about me smothering him. I’m just his aunt Mimi, not his mother. And I’ve become the scapegoat for his pain...” She took a ragged breath.
Braeden cradled her face in his hands. At the feel of them—strong and warm—against her skin, her heart accelerated.
She searched his features. And found honor and integrity.
“The way I see it—” his voice gentled “—Mimi is the closest thing the boy can say next to Mama.”
* * *
Just as she had every night for the past week once they finished dinner, Amelia scudded back her chair.
“Got to check the gear for tomorrow’s charter.”
Braeden folded his napkin and half rose from his chair to waylay her. But too late. Amelia Duer launched from the dining room as if propelled by rocket fuel. The screen door slammed against the frame in her wake.
Honey sighed and began to clear the table.
Seth scuttled back his chair. “Care to cross wits with an old, washed-up waterman like
