Page 40 of All We Need

“Easy there.”Boothchuckles. “Wecan turn around if you’re feeling a little queasy.”

Dimples would be awful at poker.Hisscheming is written across his face, plain as day.

Two can play at this game.

My hand clutches my stomach dramatically asIexhale loudly. “IthinkI’mokay now that we’ve stopped.”

He smirks triumphantly.Ican’t wait to wipe it off.

The men jump into action, quickly lowering the anchor and making room for the traps.Whenthe engine is silenced, hungry gulls squawk overhead as they swoop through the air.

“Aly, switch ya gloves for these and come give me a hand.”Peteyholds out a pair of black rubber gloves. “Timeto show us what ya made of.”

For the next two hoursI’mput to work.

It’s grueling.MusclesIdidn’t know existed ache.Myfingers cramp.Thecold air numbs my nose and cheeks.Ilose count ofhow many hauls we bring up.Andmost of all, it’s the most funI’vehad in weeks.

Petey takes the time to explain each step to me, how he measures each lobster to check the legal size, and even goes into describing the anatomy.He’sa salt-of-the-earth man and a true connoisseur of his trade.

Booth, however, tests me.Hedoes his fair share of work but doesn’t attempt to help me or answer my questions whenPeteyis busy.Apart of me doesn’t blame him.Theother part of me wants to dunk his head in the ocean.Clearly, he’s done this before, probably grew up on a boat, butIcan’t help but notice his pallid complexion as we head back to shore.

“Looking a little green around the gills there,Sadler.Didyou leaveyoursea legs at home?”Thatearns me a weak scowl.

Our captain scoffs. “Nonsense.Boothhas been out with me plenty.Ain’tthat right, bub?”

“Yep.”Hishead jerks up and down.

“Aly,Igotta say, you surprised me.Ourboy here told me you couldn’t hack it.Wantedme to ride again?—”

“Why don’t you concentrate on mooring us, old man?”Boothinterjects, then closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. “Hurry, too.Ihave somewhere to be.”

This is pure gold andI’mgoing to enjoy every minute of it.

Petey either doesn’t hear him or chooses not to.

The waterproof glovesBoothwears creak with the death grip he has on the side of the boat.

“Is there a scenic route,Petey?I’dlove to see more of the bay.”Mygaze doesn’t leaveBooth’sasIedge closer to him.

All color drains from his face, save for the rosy cheeks he’s sporting from the cold. “Aly” is all he manages through clamped teeth.

“You want to get to know me?”Hedoesn’t reply. “Ispent summers on my grandfather’s sailboat.Imastered the reef knotbeforeIgot my period.Iwarned you not to underestimate me, but you didn’t listen.”

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, his eyes bulge and he throws his head overboard.

Booth 0–Aly1.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

alessandra

Weirdly,I’mnot as smug asIthoughtIwould be onceBoothregains himself.

I’d only planned on proving to himIcould handle the ocean.Notthat he couldn’t.Honestly, it shocked me.AndPetey.

“Go, get.”Mynewest friend flaps his hands at me andBooth—who’s keeled over a mooring bollard. “Myson is on his way down.He’llhelp get this all off boarded.Lookafter young skippy there.Ain’tnever seen him like that.”

I’d much rather freeze my fingers off hauling the traps than take care ofBooth.

---