The fuel line cracked at four in the morning. I found it before anyone else did.
Diesel ran down my wrist like weak tea. I got under the pump with a wrench and a rag.
First charter left at nine. If that line blew out on open water, the yard lost its season.
So I cut the bad section and fitted a new clamp, tightening until my fingers ached.
My hands knew the job. That was the one thing I trusted.
Boots hit the planks behind me. I knew the sound before the voice.
Drew: Damn, Alina. You look like you wrestled the boat and lost.
Drew crouched beside me, hair still wet from his shower, smiling like the morning belonged to him.
He hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my face up.
Drew: You got grease on your cheek. Right there.
His thumb moved slow across my skin. Like we had all day.
Then he kissed me. Not soft. Drew never kissed soft when he wanted something.
His hand went into my hair, and my back hit the cold metal of the pump.
I made a sound into his mouth. He liked that.
Drew: Missed you. You were out here all night again.
I didn't answer. I pulled him down by the shirt and kissed him harder.
He got his hands under my thighs and lifted. My legs locked around his waist.
The wrench slid off the dock and hit the water. Neither of us cared.
He rolled his hips into me, slow and rough, and my whole body went hot and stupid.
Drew: Fuck, you feel good.
His mouth slid down my throat. I felt the graze of his teeth and forgot the fuel line, the charter, all of it.
I gripped the back of his neck and ground against him, because I wanted to. Because he was warm and he was mine.
Then a car door slammed up by the office.
Elaine: Drew? Are you down there? Our guests are here.
His mouth stopped moving. He laughed against my skin.
Drew: Shit. Mom's early.
He set me down. My legs were not steady yet.
Drew: Stay pretty. Come say hello.
Elaine came down the pier with two guests behind her. Paige in a cropped jacket and heels. Trent in a ball cap, hands in his hoodie.
Elaine: There she is. Alina keeps this whole yard running, don't you, dear.
It sounded like a compliment. It landed like a pat on the head.
Paige: She keeps it running? Or she keeps it smelling like a gas station?
Paige smiled at me with her sharp little teeth. My cheeks went hot.
Paige: You must be so grateful. Drew says you don't have any family here.
Elaine: Paige.
Elaine said it soft. Not a warning. Just a small sound, and then nothing.
Trent: Shit, Drew. You been down here kissing the mechanic? You'll taste diesel for a week.
Trent laughed. Paige laughed with him.
Drew: Relax, man. She's good with her hands.
He said it like a joke he was proud of, then put his arm around my shoulders, easy as anything.
I wanted to shrug him off. I wanted him to choose me out loud. I did neither.
Elaine: Come up to the house, Drew. Your father wants the charter list before nine.
Drew: Coming. Give me a second.
He kissed my cheek, quick, and let go.
Drew: See you after, babe.
Then he walked up the pier with his mother and her guests, hands in his pockets, laughing at something Trent said.
I looked down at the fuel line. My repair held. My hands were steady.
Everything else in me was not.