Fight the Tide by Keira Andrews

and the kids.
    “Okay, so what’s the difference between the rudder and the keel?” Parker asked, standing on the deck of the Saltwater Taffy with the others sitting near his feet. He’d thrown so many new words at them that Adam would be surprised if they could remember their own names.
    But little Lilly raised her hand. “Um, the rudder is for steering, and the keel is for staying steady?”
    “Exactly!”
    Adam watched across the water, reeling in his fishing line. Now that they’d decided to keep the newcomers around, Parker smiled a little more easily. It had been a long day of recovering the other boat, which had miraculously still been bobbing on the waves. It’d taken hours for Parker to untangle the lines and make it seaworthy once more. He’d taught them what he called “the basics,” a dizzying litany of nautical terms and procedures.
    They’d finally sailed on and found a secluded cove by a tiny island in one of the sounds of the southern Outer Banks. Adam had splashed ashore and run the length of it, making sure they were well and truly alone. He made sure to take his time, and Craig and Abby hadn’t questioned him going ashore alone. They’d only seemed relieved to get the all-clear.
    The two boats were anchored some distance away from each other after Parker did calculations on depth and “swing radius” and the anchor “rode.” Everyone had stared at him blankly until he’d explained that they didn’t want to drift and hit each other in the night or get their anchor lines tangled.
    Parker had grumbled that he had his work cut out for him in making sailors of them all, and God, Adam had wanted to kiss him. His lips still itched with it.
    Instead, he slipped the camera from his pocket and started filming the other boat. No one else noticed, and he ran the camera over everyone on board, capturing their faces and voices.
    “Okay, now we’ll trim the sail one more time,” Parker said. “Uh, Jacob, how about it?”
    Jacob’s head jerked up. “Me?”
    “Sure, why not? The only way to really learn is by doing.”
    “You got this, sweetheart,” Abby said as Craig gave Jacob’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.
    Parker held down his hand to pull Jacob to his feet. “I’ve been doing it since I was younger than you. Trust me.”
    Jacob’s heart kicked up as he took Parker’s hand, and Adam cocked his head as he watched, the fishing line forgotten for the moment.
    “Okay, so remember how the sails are positioned depends on the conditions. Where you’re heading, and where the wind’s coming from. You have to adjust your sails so they’ll work the most effectively. We want to minimize drag and optimize lift. Kind of like the wings on an airplane. Okay, look up at the mainsail.” With his hand on Jacob’s back, Parker positioned him.
    As the lesson continued, Adam flipped off his camera and listened to Jacob’s heart skip around like a mariachi band. He smiled to himself. The kid wasn’t scared—his sweat smelled fresh, with a distinctive spike of arousal. No, the kid wasn’t scared at all, and Adam remembered the same fluttery feelings every time he’d gotten close to Henry Chen when they were lab partners in the tenth grade.
    He cast out his line again, focusing his hearing on the lap of the waves and the chirp of birds, Parker’s voice a pleasant and indistinct murmur. Over the years, he’d trained himself to narrow his focus so he didn’t go crazy listening to other people, especially when he wanted peace and quiet.
    He’d managed to catch two decent-sized fish by the time Parker came back in the dinghy. “Lesson went well?” Adam asked.
    “Think so. You know you could use a refresher. Or five. Ten, probably.” Parker disappeared into the hatch and returned with his nautical charts.
    “Yeah, yeah.” Adam cast out again. “I don’t really need to learn. I’ve got you. I’m just the cabin boy on this vessel, remember?”
    Parker laughed. “Your lack of ambition might