Coast Guard Sweetheart by Lisa Carter

assigned, which happened to be nearest to shore.
    From the wharf, the mayor shouted through the bullhorn. “On your mark. Get ready. Get set...”
    He and Honey hunched in anticipation.
    â€œGo...” yelled the mayor.
    The tugboat’s horn bellowed across the harbor, signaling the ROMEOs. Seth and his cohorts dumped the ducks into the channel. Hundreds of bright yellow plastic heads bobbed in the waves. From the shoreline, cheers and jeers arose.
    â€œDuck number 409 takes an early lead,” the mayor cried.
    Armed with walkie-talkies, the other herders kept the mayor and the crowds apprised of the ducks in contention. Equipped with purple pool noodles, the wranglers ensured the ducks didn’t get stuck in the lines or in harbor debris.
    â€œCome on, come on.” She bounced in the seat. “Go, Lucky 576, go. Go. Go.”
    Sawyer held on to the sides of the canoe. “Sit still. Or you’ll land the both of us in the drink.”
    â€œDuck number 324 edges number 576,” the mayor announced. A roar erupted from the spectators.
    Sawyer grinned. “That’s a Coastie duck.”
    Honey scowled.
    Sawyer smacked his lips. “I’m thinking we’ll start the evening with dancing—”
    Honey grunted. “I’m thinking that’s so not happening...”
    â€œIt’s 576 and 324, beak and beak,” shouted the mayor.
    The current brought the ducky horde within arm’s reach of the canoe. Sawyer reached for one of the purple noodles he’d stashed on board.
    She slatted her eyes. “What are you doing?”
    He stroked the water with the noodle. “I’m making sure they don’t get tangled in the floating seaweed.”
    â€œStop it, Kole.” She seized another noodle from between their feet. “You’re making waves to ensure Coastie Duck beats Duer Duck.”
    He sent a ripple of water toward the bobbing ducks. “Like the other wranglers farther out, I’m only making sure the ducks don’t stall dead in the water before reaching the finish line.”
    â€œYou’re cheating.” She half rose. The canoe tilted.
    â€œI’m not.” He frowned and grabbed for the sides. “Sit down, Beatrice.”
    â€œYou don’t get to tell me what to do, Kole.” She stood.
    He lurched to his feet. “Sit—”
    She smacked him in the chest with her noodle. Only his feet planted even with his hips kept him from toppling into the water.
    â€œBeatrice,” he hissed. The canoe rocked. “Stop—”
    â€œPrepare to suck seaweed, Coastie. This is so on...” Clutching the noodle, she lunged at him.
    Sawyer blocked her jab. “You want it? You got it. Bring it, Duer.”
    Honey thrust at him again. He parried again. “That the best you can do?”
    She whacked the end of her noodle against his. The dull thud of noodle-on-noodle swordplay echoed across the marsh.
    â€œLooks like hostilities have erupted on the sidelines, folks,” the mayor commented. Laughter broke out along the shore.
    Honey charged at him. He shifted. The canoe tipped. Her arms windmilled. She cried out. He threw himself in her direction to counterbalance.
    But too late. The canoe capsized, dumping them both over the side. They landed with a whale of a splash in the waist-deep water. The surge sent the ducks scurrying toward the finish line.
    â€œNumber 698 wins!” the mayor shouted.
    Sawyer and Honey groaned. Not a Coastie Duck. From the look of her face, he guessed not a Duer Duck, either.
    Knees bent, butt in the water, her mouth trembled. Those immaculate white linen trousers of hers weren’t so immaculate now. He sighed. How did they keep ending up in this situation? Humiliating each other in front of the whole town.
    Swiping a hand over his face, he found his footing. He waited for Honey but knew better than to offer his hand this time. Water dripped from the pearls at her ears and