Page 2 of Swept Up In You

“Just here to fill up our boat with diesel,” came the gruff voice over the intercom.

“No worries,” Sam looked over at her dad, “Matt will be down in just a minute.”

Her dad nodded, threw the pen and paper on the desk and took off toward the back door, heading down to their fuel berth to assist the customer.

Everyone knew her dad. Matt was a down-to-earth kinda guy, with scruffy short brown hair tamed with a Garner Marine baseball cap, a five o’clock shadow and deep blue eyes. It was the eyes that most people commented on. She’d know—Sam took after her dad in that regard.“Blues as deep as the ocean,”her mum would say.

Unlike her dad, Sam had her mum’s dirty blonde hair, which she usually tied up in a ponytail. While there was no uniform at Garner’s, Sam and her dad still wore their version of one—jeans, sneakers and some form of T-shirt. Comfortable and easy to work in around the shop.

Sam sat down and lent back in her chair. Finally she had a few minutes to herself with no one else in the shop, aside from Radio Paradise belting out its latest quirky tune.

“—and now let’s hear it for the 1974 classic -When Shrimps Learn To Whistle.”

Sam and her dad would often crack up at the weird and wonderful songs the radio played during their work days, singing along dreadfully out of tune, huge grins on their faces. She smiled at the thought, then sighed. While she still loved being at the shop, she knew she didn’t want to stay here forever. Even if it was her dad’s lifelong dream for her to take over and run everything one day.

Truth be told, she’d already been at the shop way longer than she’d originally thought she would. It was Manny’s fault, takinglonger than she’d planned and needing more money than she’d had.

He was the love of her life.

All 37 feet of him.

Manny was her 1979 Duncanson sailboat. Moored at the local yacht club’s marina, it was her project boat and home away from home. It also lived up to the old saying, “You know what B.O.A.T stands for? Bring Out Another Thousand!” but Sam didn’t mind. Building the boat back to life and up to spec was such a joy, watching each transformation come to life?—

BANG!

The back door of the shop slammed shut as someone rushed inside, completely breaking Sam out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a flash of a person rushing up to the counter.

“Excuse me?” a voice called out. “Is there a toilet in here?”

A woman with boyishly short brown hair came into view, frantically looking around, her hazel eyes wild.

“Oh, hi,” she said, relief on her face once she spotted Sam. “Hoping you can help?”

She winced, gesturing to her front.

Sam stood up to look over the counter, her eyes rounding once she saw the woman’s front dripping with what she assumed was coffee.

“Oh gosh, right, yep. Um, straight down that aisle, into the little kitchen and through the door on the right.”

Sam moved to come around the counter and help, but the woman shot off without another word, shutting the toilet door with a loudthump.

What a whirlwind.

She took a few steps, then stood staring down the aisle, when the door opened again suddenly, making Sam jump. The woman popped her head around the corner.

“Uh, hey, can I get your help?” she said in a loud whisper.

Sam walked the rest of the way down. “There’s no one else in here at the moment, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh thank god,” she said, relieved. There was toilet paper bunched in her hand from where it looked like she’d been trying to dab at her top. She was wearing a white polo top, the large brown stain on it making the outline of her sports braveryobvious. Sam swallowed and kept her eyes moving, clocking the khaki cargo pants and yellow safety boots next. Maybe she was some sort of boat worker?

“This is so embarrassing, but do you have a top I could borrow? Or buy from your shop? This coffee has soaked throughwaymore than I thought.”

“Of course. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

The woman smiled with relief. “I’m certainly not going anywhere looking like this,” she quipped and shut the door.

Now Sam was in a conundrum. Give the stranger a new shirt off the rack (sailing shirts were expensive, even at cost price) or quickly run next door and grab one of her own, leaving the stranger alone in her shop? Sam paused. The woman looked to be around the same size and age as her…

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