Page 87 of A Shore Fling
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a little smirk tugging at her lips. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying this way too much. Watching her climb into the captain’s seat, cautious butdetermined, feels like it could be a metaphor for our relationship—a little reckless and a lot of unexpected, but also the best time of my life.
With the sleek white and red boat gleaming under the sun, I crouch beside her. “All right. This is your chance for redemption.”
“What if I’m just a land creature?” she asks, shifting in the seat.
I rest my hand over hers on the throttle. “Rule number one is: don’t panic.”
She flattens her lips. “I don’t panic.”
“Rule number two is: pay attention.”
“I pay attention.”
I snort. “Tell that to the ‘shallow water’ sign you ignored.”
“That sign must’ve been tiny if I missed it. Shouldn’t it be a giant blinking arrow that says ‘sandbar here’ to keep boaters away?”
“Rule number three is: do exactly as I say.”
“I always do,” she says.
I laugh. “Always?”
“I meant in bed.” Her full lips form a smirk.
“Let’s just focus,” I say, fighting a hard-on. “Gently ease the throttle forward. Slow and smooth. This is a no-wake zone, so you need to pull forward slowly.”
“I remember how to do this part. It’s the navigating I struggle with.”
I shoot her a look. “What happened to rule number three?”
“We’re not in bed.” She snickers but follows my instructions. Her fingers tighten slightly under mine as she nudges the throttle forward, and the boat begins to glide out of the slip like it’s listening to her.
“There you go,” I say. “Look at you. That was smooth as butter. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t jinx it,” she mutters. “Let’s just get clear of the marina before we declare any victory.”
The docks slide by on either side, and the harbor is calm and quiet this morning except for the occasional slap of the sea against the hulls of the anchored boats. I watch her eyes flick between the wheel and the open water, her jaw tight with concentration. But she’s got this.
“You’re doing great,” I say after a minute. “Better than last time.”
She side-eyes me. “Better than crashing is a low bar.”
“Hey, low bars are meant to be cleared. We all start with baby steps.”
“Does this boat come with a certificate when I pass? Or a merit badge? Ooh, how about a captain title? Captain Nina sounds impressive.”
“No, but you might get a cookie.”
“And what if I want something more motivating?”
I glance at her mouth, and smirk. “We’ll negotiate that.”
We coast past the last marker, and the boat slows, easing into the current. It’s quiet out here. There’s no sign of anyone else. It’s just open sky and ocean for as far as we can see. She tucks her hair behind her ear and glances at me, waiting for instruction.
“Kill the engine. We’re floating for a minute.”
She does as I instruct and then removes her sunglasses, placing them on the dash. The hum of the motor fades, and we’re left with nothing but the soft rocking of the waves. I step closer, my hand grazing her leg as I reach over to adjust the throttle to neutral.
