Page 3 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

He’s tall, with broad shoulders and biceps that go on for days. A storm could hit him, and he wouldn’t notice. He has a short beard that’s more likely him not shaving for a few days.

I don’t generally think I have a type. I haven’t dated seriously in years, preferring flings. Most of the time, I go for men as different from my MBA-having, suit-loving ex as possible. Which is easy to find on a yoga retreat and at athleisure wear conferences.

This man’s chocolate eyes hint at a wild side I’ll never be able to match. His brown hair under his ball cap is on the longer side, brushing his chin, and I can tell he runs his hands through it all the time. I’m not thinking about running my hands through it. It would be so soft if I did.

He’s so fucking handsome.

I don’t understand how I’m suddenly so horny.

“Haley!” My voice sounds too high even to my ears. I’ve put my sunglasses back on since the sun reflects off the water and the white of all the boats. “Thank you so much for doing this.” Nathan has already stepped up to help her with the coolers of food she’s brought.

“Of course! Any chance to be on the water, especially when I don’t have to reel in or gut fish.” She’s dating a fisherman and loves catching something and cooking it the same day. She introduces herself to both Orion and Nathan. Which is helpful because I’m sure I would have stumbled over my words under Orion’s watchful eye.

I truly don’t understand what’s going on with me. I’m around attractive people all the time. Maybe my previously unknown pirate fetish has decided to rear its ugly head? It’s been six months since I’ve had a fling. Maybe this is my body telling me Orion is a prime candidate.

My mind isn’t opposed.

The thought doesn’t go away as Stacy and Jeannette arrive, and Orion prepares the boat for us to leave. I’m aware of his presence even when I can’t see him. Of course, I watch as he guides the boat from the dock with minimal help from the deckhand. Anyone would. And I notice the way his biceps fill the sleeves of his polo shirt as he raises the sails.

I make clothing. I pay attention to how it fits people.

Now he’s at the wheel—the helm, he calls it, which is right next to where I’m sitting. We’re moving along faster than I expected. We tilt as the sails catch the wind. The boat is beautiful, and seeing his face light up with joy while he’s sailing makes me happy.

The sails power our movement, but it’s also him. He’s the one adjusting the angle of the sails and constantly watching the wind and the water. It’s baffling to me that he’s able to keep track of somany things at once. I can see his attention moving around. And it’s doing something to me I didn’t expect when I decided to take my team out for a day of sailing.

It must be the competence I’m attracted to.

But I have competent male friends who don’t do anything for me. Alex is an expert bartender. I’ve seen women forget what they’re doing while he shakes a cocktail. Christian, my closest male friend, turns heads wherever he goes.

Neither of them affect me the way Orion does.

We sail down the island, just far enough out that we won’t encounter any swimmers. I watch my beautiful beach pass by and the miles of sand that I love so much. The wind blows my hair, and I’m constantly pulling the loose strands back behind my ears. It’s still incredibly hot out—there’s no way to avoid that in August—but I feel better here, out on the water, than I have anywhere else in a while.

Haley passes the rosé around. I brought plenty, so we won’t run out, but I keep my sips superficial. This is a celebratory trip but I’m still the boss. I don’t get to cut loose.

“You’re not having any?” I ask Haley when I notice she’s not taking any either. “I know it’s not champagne.”

“I’m working,” she protests.

“Please. You’re barely letting me pay your hourly rate.” It’s an old argument. She thinks since she cooked for me when we were college roommates, she could never ask me to pay her even though she does charge other people for this exact service.

“I’ll have a little now. I want to be sober for paddleboarding,” she says. I raise one eyebrow. We’re both experienced enough that one glass of wine won’t affect either of our abilities on a board. “What’s your excuse?” She points to my nearly full cup.

Jeannette and Stacy sit on the bow flirting with Nathan. Orion can probably hear us, so I’m careful. “I’m just watching today. You all have fun.”

“You okay? Is it your hamstring again?”

My hamstring feels fine. I overstretch it from time to time. Haley probably has a mental log of every injury her friends have ever had. But that’s not what’s on my mind.

It’s the anxiety no meditation has ever been able to fully quell.

What if I fail?

If we’re stand-up paddleboarding, that means falling. I have years of experience with the sport so I should be fine. According to Nathan, the conditions should be calm where we’re headed. But falling in the Gulf of Mexico, even if unlikely, isn’t something I can risk.

I could handle falling in front of any of the women, and probably Nathan too. But Orion has clearly seen a lot. I will do anything to make sure he has a high opinion of me. I need him to keep thinking of me as the in-control business owner I am.

“It’s fine. I’m tired from my class this morning,” I answer.

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