Page 2 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

I catch the way she looks at her feet and the gap between the dock and the stern. I swear she tries to calculate how to balance so she can keep the bag, take off her shoes, and step aboard. She reluctantly hands the bag over. It’s heavier than I expected. It can’t be towels or a change of clothing. Maybe it is the liquor.

I move to the stern and turn to offer her my hand as she’s bending over to pick up her shoes. I catch the faintest hint of a baby blue bikini under her white tank top before I have the good sense to look away. When she extends her leg to step aboard in bare feet, I try not to stare at the way her pale blue shorts travel up her thigh. There is an exploding star near the hem—the logo for the clothing company everyone is apparently obsessed with. I thought I gave her enough space, but she steps right up to me, so close she almost bumps me, her breath hitching. The cutest flush crosses her cheeks as she smiles.

Right. This will be a long day.I lead her below deck. “Is there anything we need to do with this?” I ask, setting the bag on the table next to the galley. I gesture for her to sit.

“Oh, it’s wine and glasses. I didn’t know what you’d have on board. And I have reusable wine tumblers. Plus, I didn’t want to bring glass on a boat, so I put the wine into other bottles. It’s already chilled, and since everything is double-walled it’ll stay that way. Your office said it would be fine. I didn’t want to use refrigerator space the food needs.”

I’ve never heard so much overthinking in one breath. And she’s clearly looking for my approval, her eyes wide and expectant.

“That sounds great.” She’s already proving to be a thoughtful guest. Unfortunately, I’ve seen so much shit in my seventeen years of giving tours that my approval bar is low.

I scan the space one last time, making sure I didn’t miss anything while cleaning. My existence has been erased. The boat looks great. If I am forced to sail with strangers, I want to make sure she looks her absolute best. The interior of the boat is done in cream and beige, making it appear more open than the space should. The table has sofa seating against the hull side, allowing us to be comfortable as we have this conversation. It also has a small galley where I’ve been cooking my meals. I can get pretty creative after I’ve been at sea awhile. “I apologize,” I tell her, “I only found out about your charter this morning. What are you envisioning for your day?”

She looks me straight in the eyes. I’m shaken by their gray color and with the potency of her attention. They should be cold, and I can see how someone else might think that. But they feel like warmth to me and simultaneously like my sea legs have been removed. Like I’m heeling without warning. I suck in a breath and hope she doesn’t notice she’s making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I’m not sure anyone else has ever looked at me with such intent before. I feel unnerved and safe at the same time. She’s not splitting her attention between me and her phone or thinking about her grocery list. She’s not watching the radar and the wind and scanning for other boats. It makes me excited and feel like I should do everything I can to keep her attention on me. I’m not worried I don’t deserve it, or I won’t hold up to her scrutiny. Only about keeping her attention.

I would have preferred my first trip to be with a tourist. Someone enjoying the Cultural Coast for a few days and then moving on. An uncomplicated way to start.

But this woman is a pillar of the community. This is “fuck up and face consequences” territory. And I haven’t had time to prepare so I don’t know what she’s expecting. And she’s making me flustered. I can’t count the number of charters I’ve done in my life. I’m a professional who doesn’t cross lines. It’s been years since I’ve been tempted. I don’t know why it’s her, but I need to shut down my attraction.

I won’t let it ruin the plans I have for this business and this move.

“I’m bringing out my top two executives. They’ve been with me since the founding. I want to treat them to celebrate the last ten years.”

Ten years? She looks to be in her early thirties so she must have gotten started right out of college. I wish I’d had more time to google her. I’m curious. But I can wait.

I show her a map on my phone. “I can take you down to this island here. The water should be good for water sports.” Nathan filled me in on the popular spots. I’ve done research but this is an art—knowing where to go based on the conditions of the day and what’s least likely to be crowded. I’ll figure it out in time. Until then, I hate relying on someone else.

“Sounds great,” she says brightly, her excitement contagious. “I’ve never chartered a boat, so I’ll leave it up to the experts.” I expected her to be high-maintenance, but she’s not.

“Great. I need to do a few more things before we’re ready to sail. Feel free to hang out down here, or on the deck.” I stand, ready to get back to work. Less because I have work to do, and more because I need extra air when I’m around her.

She looks around the galley. While I’ve picked up everything personal, she has an exacting eye and will find the dirty sock Imissed. Her gaze stops at the small bookshelf next to the radio. “Sailing in the Mediterranean,” she reads. “Have you been?”

“I have. A few years ago some friends and I took theTwisted Riggingacross the Atlantic.” I don’t want to leave now. Not when I have the chance to share my passion with her.

She nods, not quite impressed with my sailing record. “Circumnavigating the Globe?” She names the next title.

“I haven’t done that. Maybe one day,” I muse. But I won’t. I don’t think so, at least. The urge I’ve felt to move from place to place as quickly as the tide is gone. I should mourn the sense of adventure I’ve lost, but I don’t. I’m ready for calm seas and the same bed every night.

If I find the right life partner to share everything with, I’d try it again. But I’ve made my choice. I’m tied here, to Wendell Beach. To the house and the company I bought.

I’ll always come back here.

Carina looks at me with her whole attention. It’s fierce and I don’t think she means it to be. She’s so still, her eyes steady and a little guileless, like she’s found something captivating drawing her in, stealing her attention. I’m suddenly comparing it to my interactions with other people. We’re always fidgeting or distracted in some way. Carina isn’t.

I’m intrigued. I want more. I want to know everything about this woman. I want to give her all my time and attention.

She opens her mouth, but Nathan’s voice on deck greeting someone cuts her off.

“That must be Haley,” Carina says. “She’s the chef.” She stands quickly and heads up to the deck.

I follow, the muscles in my jaw tensing. I didn’t want her on my boat. I can’t be lusting after a client. And I really can’t when it’s this woman.

two

CARINA

I feelthe captain on my heels as I rush to get my head on straight. I’m supposed to be calm and collected. I am. Or at least I try to be. But Orion washed over me like a wave I wasn’t expecting. There’s no way it affected him like he affected me.

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