d="toc_marker-11" class="Chapter">AUGUST 1
Mt. Baker rose like a beacon, soaring up into the heat of the summer day. Russell’s boat slid up to the public pier in Anacortes. He’d told her it was a two-day trip to sail from Seattle to Patos Island and back. Cassidy had covered most of the distance in the two-hour drive north in order to avoid sleeping aboard. He’d promised she could be as safe as she wanted, which was sweet. But since they’d never been together for more than an hour without ticking each other off, she chose to meet him at the closest port.
His boat looked sharp, graceful, prettier than it had before. He’d finally repainted it. The bowsprit now had copper handrails wrapped around it. The dinghy was upside down on the top of the cabin. Everything looked shipshape, even el
