Free Coast Guard Sweetheart by Lisa Carter Page A

her face, she figured. Too bad.
    â€œIf twenty ducks is the Quacker Package,” he drawled in his husky voice. “What does that make me with thirty? The Biggest Quack of all?”
    She gave him a pointed look. “Truer words were never spoken.”
    He laughed. “See you at the finish line.”
    Arms laden, he winked at her. “And may the best seaman ducky win, Beatrice.”
    * * *
    Sawyer raised the trophy high over his head. The Guard contingent cheered, as did the other participants in the Best Decorated Ducky contest. Except for Honey. Her face seemed frozen in a perpetual scowl of disapproval.
    He scanned the artistically accessorized rubber ducks on display. The bride and groom ducks presented by the future newlyweds getting married at the lodge tomorrow. The princess ducks contributed by the local Girl Scouts. The Biblical ducks from the youth group at the church.
    Sawyer especially liked the Jonah duck with the hand-lettered sign attached around its neck, Big Fish Beware.
    Max’s need-for-speed NASCAR racing duck had tied for first place in the children’s category. Posing for the official photograph, Max and the little redheaded girl, daughter of a former Coastie commander, glowered at each other across the shared billboard-size coupon for a dozen Long John donuts.
    Between calls, the crew had made short work of decorating the thirty Coastie ducks. In honor of puddle pirates everywhere, Reaves created several swashbuckling ducks. And there was the authentic, tropical blue Coastie-inspired duck with anchor insignia. Thanks to Seaman Donovan’s graphic artist abilities, that duck secured third place in the adult category. Much to Honey’s ire.
    The Duer ducks—in various renderings of fisherman Seth, artist Amelia and sailboater Braeden—placed in the top ten. Sawyer loved Honey’s personalized duck—so girly-girl with the stylish blond-brown wig and fake eyelashes. A strand of fake pearls dotted the duck’s neck.
    With pearl studs in the approximate location of ears, the Honey Duck was attired in an exact replica of the shirt Honey sported today. The black-and-white polka-dotted frock painted on the duck’s midsection certainly made it a standout. Earning the duck and Honey a respectable runner-up to Sawyer’s own first place winning Cowboy Duck.
    He’d epoxied a tiny braided lasso to his Stetson-clad duck. And taut with chagrin, the ever-stylish Honey fumed and tapped her Keds on the pavement.
    Sawyer cocked a hand around his ear. “Is that the gnashing of pearly white teeth I hear, Beatrice?”
    â€œI’d like to gnash...” Her hair glimmering in the afternoon sunlight, she poked out her lips. “Just you wait till race time, Kole. You’ll be eating my ducky waves.”
    He mock-fluttered his lashes. “Promises, promises.”
    Making a rude noise, she shoved off toward the wharf.
    Sawyer followed at a more leisurely pace. The ROMEOs—including Seth Duer—were working in conjunction with the Coastie Auxiliary and Watermen’s Association. They’d officiate at today’s race.
    After collecting the race entry ducks in a large trash bag, Seth and the Now I Sea would anchor a quarter mile offshore at the starting point of the race. At the blast of the towboat’s foghorn, the ROMEOs would dump the plastic contestants overboard between ropes tied to two equidistant poles in the channel.
    Ropes on both sides created a V-shaped funnel tied off on the pylons of the dock at the finish line. The lines had been strung through colorful swimming pool noodles to keep the wayward seafaring ducks in bounds. Other volunteers stood poised at the end of the pier with fishing nets to collect the ducks and return them to their “sponsors.”
    Jaunty flags fluttered in the stiff sea breeze on board dozens of recreational vessels hugging the harbor. Kiptohanockians lined the banks of the town at water’s