Coast Guard Courtship

After almost being skewered, Braeden reckoned Seth might owe him more than that. But he paused in the doorway, inhaling the hearty smells of eggs, fried potatoes and ham. Probably the good Smithfield, Virginia, ham he’d read about as he’d ambled up I-95. The continental thing people called breakfast at the roadside motel in Virginia Beach this morning seemed like hours ago.

He and Seth shuffled past green vinyl booths packed with some of the same men and women he’d met earlier at the marina.

“And here’s my baby girl.” Seth gestured toward a young blonde woman whose embroidered name on the retro 1950s waitress uniform identified her as Honey.

On second thought, maybe not so retro in Kiptohanock.

A young Guardsman leaned his elbows on the counter on either side of his coffee mug, smiling in Honey’s direction.

Beside Braeden, Seth Duer went rigid.

The Guardsman grinned at Honey Duer. “Always ready... That’s our motto...”

Seth growled. “Ready to chase every skirt in Kiptohanock, you mean.”

The Nordic-blond Coastie swung around on the stool. His eyes narrowed.

Seth hustled Braeden forward, blocking the Guardsman’s view of Honey. “This is Braeden, Honey. He’s already—”

The Guardsman elbowed Braeden aside. “Hey, I was here fir—”

Braeden went ramrod stiff and broadened his shoulders. “Boatswain’s Mate Third Class—” he scrutinized the surname on the fellow Coastie’s uniform “—Kole. Did you just shove your XPO?”

The boy’s eyes widened at the stripes on Braeden’s sleeve. “Br-Brae...” His voice cracked and his sunburned features turned a color akin to eggplant. “Executive Petty Officer Braeden Scott? I didn’t realize—”

Kole leaped to his feet and rammed the side of his hand into his forehead. “Boatswain’s Mate Third Class Petty Officer Sawyer Kole.” His blue eyes pinned a spot on the far wall above Braeden’s head.

Braeden acknowledged his salute with one of his own. “At ease, Kole.”

Kole spread-eagled his hips, both arms grasped behind his back.

“Just finished your two days on rotation, Kole?” Braeden studied his watch. “Or just getting ready to report to your watch this time of the morning?”

Kole—in his early twenties, Braeden wagered—swallowed. Hard. “Yes, Petty Officer Scott. On a long-john run for the OIC.”

“Then I suggest you discontinue making a public nuisance of yourself and get to Station Kiptohanock ASAP.” Braeden crossed his arms. “We’ll continue this conversation at the station later, and perhaps—” he blew a slow breath out from between his lips “—review CG standards for fraternization and respect for the local populace.”

Kole gave a short, emphatic nod.

“Was that an affirmative, Boatswain’s Mate? Do you read me?”

“Yes, Petty Officer Scott. Loud and clear. Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted.”

Snatching his cap off the counter, Kole, with a sharp pivot, exited the diner with a whoosh of air and a jingle of the bell.

Braeden angled toward his new landlord. “I’m sorr—”

Honey lobbed a napkin at her father. “Did you have to embarrass Sawyer in front of his XPO, Daddy?” She picked up Kole’s abandoned fork.

Braeden stepped back.

“Now, Honey.” Seth threw up his hands. “After what your sisters went through, I’m not big on Coasties.”

Her brown eyes darkened. “Sawyer’s not like that, Daddy.”

Seth folded his arms over his chest. “They’re all like that, Honey.” He flung Braeden an apologetic look. “Begging your pardon, Braeden. No offense intended.”

“None taken, Mr. Duer.”

“Please, call me Seth.” Seth swiveled to his daughter. “Honey, you know how I feel about—”

Honey dabbed her large doe eyes with the edge of her pink ruffled apron. “You’re trying to ruin my life, aren’t you, Dad?”

Seth’s eyebrows arched. “Ruin your life? Honey...”

Guffaws bellowed from the booths.

“I’d leave it go if I were you fellows.” Seth heaved a sigh, not bothering to turn his head. “Or see how quick those motors of yours get fixed.” Which produced further hee-haws from Seth’s gray-haired peers at the corner booth.

Seth leaned over the counter. “Braeden ran into ’Melia at the cabin.”

Honey sucked in a quick breath. “How’d that go?”

Braeden scowled. “About as well as you’d expect at the end of a harpoon.”

Honey rolled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Scott. I’d hoped we could ease in an introduction tonight between dinner and pie.”

“Braeden,” he huffed. “Since if anything happens to me, I assume you two will be the ones making my funeral arrangements.”

Honey shook her head. “Don’t you worry. Amelia will come around. May take some time, but she always gets on board eventually.”

Braeden sighed. “That’s what your father said.”

Honey grabbed a coffee mug. “I’ll give her a call.” She reached for a nearby coffeepot warming on a burner. “You’ve had an eventful morning. You need a jolt of java to tide you over.”

“No, thanks.” Braeden held up a hand. “I’m headed to the station. And your sister got a call from Max’s school. She’s headed there to pick him up.”

Seth’s hand clenched on the back on the chair Kole had vacated.

Honey’s lower lip trembled. “Was she upset?” She fingered her apron. “Of course she was upset. I mean, was she crying upset?”

Seth frowned. “’Melia doesn’t cry. Never has. Was Max okay?”

Braeden threw him a long look. “She said Max wasn’t feeling well.” His gaze swung to Honey. Something was going on here that he didn’t understand. “And no, she wasn’t crying.”

Seth nodded. “She’ll handle it, then. Got it under control. She’s not a crier.”