Page 63 of Rival Hearts
“I didn’t really think about it, but I guess it makes sense that you’d own a boat,” I said.
Alex chuckled. “Because I’m in the yacht business?”
I shrugged. “Well… yeah.”
He grinned. “We do own a few different yachts, but that’s not what I’m taking you out on today.”
“No?”
He shook his head and led the way through the marina. He pointed out different yachts and boats and told me bits of information about the owners.
Finally, we stopped at a slip in a prime spot. Of course, a Blackwood wouldn’t have an out-of-the-way crappy parking spot.
A small boat bobbed on the water, sleek and well-maintained. The wordWindwardwas painted on the side of the point in polished black letters.
Alex stepped onto the boat and held out his hand. I took it, and he helped me on before he untied the ropes.
His fingers worked with practiced ease, and it was like watching a magician. When he focused on the boat and the ropes and knots, his face changed. He looked at home, here. Relaxedand peaceful. Not stressed and uptight like he did in his office or whenever he had to deal with business.
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Put this on,” he said and handed me a lifejacket.
I put it on and tightened the straps while Alex checked the fuel levels and safety equipment. When he was sure everything was ready, he put on a lifejacket, too.
He started the engine, and it purred to life.
“Ready?”
I nodded, and he maneuvered the boat out of the slip and through the marina. We passed by other boats, and Alex waved at some of them.
Finally, we left the marina behind, and the open waters of Narragansett Bay lay before us, sparkling under the afternoon sun.
I looked at Alex, who was very much in his element, and I hadn’t seen anything more beautiful.
Not the view and not the man, either.
18
ALEX
The weather was perfect. Earlier today it had looked like a storm, but now that I was with Charlotte, the storm had retreated and left only blue skies.
It was symbolic. Whenever I was around her, it felt like the storms in my life passed, too.
Stop being such a sap.But Charlotte was the kind of woman who would make a man wax poetic.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d worn a gypsy top, and her hair had been wavy. Now, she wore jeans and a T-shirt and trainers—practical and efficient—and she’d pulled back her hair in a ponytail but she looked just as fantastic.
It didn’t matter what she did, she would always look incredible.
She looked out to sea as we navigated the water, and her eyes sparkled. Her face was a mixture of awe and happiness, and every now and then, when the water splashed up against the hull of the boat and the sea spray splashed on her face, she laughed.
I could listen to her laugh all day. I was in very real danger of becoming hopelessly addicted to her.
When we were far enough away from the marina so that we weren’t surrounded by a slew of other boats, I cut the engine, and we sat in pure silence. The water lapped against the boat, and we could still see the beach—a narrow strip of sand in the distance.
“This is so peaceful,” Charlotte said.
