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“What is all this?” I asked, eying the red-and-white checkered cloth inside.
“It’s a surprise.” Hoyt pulled some bills from his wallet and passed them over. “Thanks, Marisol.”
“Anytime. Y’all have fun.”
As she walked away, I went brows-up. “Have fun with what?”
He rose and snagged my hand, grabbing the basket with the other. “You’ll see, Miss Suspicious.”
Because I understood him well enough to know he wouldn’t say another word until he was good and ready, I held my tongue until we arrived at the marina a few minutes later. “Why do I get the feeling you’re being sneaky?”
“That is an inherent part of pulling off a surprise.”
He found a parking place for the borrowed truck and slid out of the driver’s seat. I waited as he circled around, because I knew he enjoyed having the chance to be a gentleman and help me down, and I’d take any excuse for him to touch me. Picnic basket in hand, Hoyt led me down a series of walkways to a slip at the far end, where a sailboat bobbed gently against its moorings. It wasn’t a large vessel compared to some of the yachts that made berth here, but it certainly beat the little Sunfish I’d been on a handful of times growing up. The hull was painted a classic white, accented by the varnished woodwork on the deck. There were enough nicks and scrapes to say that this boat had seen use and was still floating, but they gave it character rather than detracting from its overall beauty.
“What are we doing here?”
“Well, we’re going for a picnic sail.”
I stared at him. “Is this yours?”
“Officially, no. I’m leasing it for the day, but I’d love to get one. It’s a great little pocket cruiser, and this was the perfect chance to take her out for a spin to see how she handles.”
Now I understood why he’d told me to wear a swimsuit this morning.
“You ever been sailing before?”
“Not on anything like this.”
Hoyt stepped across from the dock, setting the basket down on the deck and offering his hand. When I hesitated, he smiled. “Don’t worry. I grew up sailing. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know. You were on the sailing team in high school.”
His smile broadened into a grin. “You remember that?”
“I remember lots of things about you from high school. I had a terrible crush on you when I was a freshman, so I paid attention.” Somehow, that was easier to admit now that we were together.
“Nice to know I wasn’t the only one looking.” He helped me on board and immediately stowed the basket that probably held our lunch. “Wind is good. Not too stiff, not too light. Great weather for a nice, easy sail.”
And it was. With expert efficiency, he took us out of the marina, into Pamlico Sound, around the south side of the island toward the open water. I helped where I could, doing what he told me, but for the most part, I simply got to enjoy the glorious sensation of freedom that came with being out on the ocean, carried along by the breeze. It was like flying. I watched Hoyt at the helm, the wind whipping his brown hair, his teeth flashing white against a tanned face. God, he was gorgeous. And miraculously, he was mine. Maybe it was time to take that to the next level.
After an hour or so, he navigated closer to the north end of Hatterwick, on the Atlantic side. High on one of the few cliffs of the island was a big, imposing house set well away from everything and everyone else. The Sutter House, where Jace and Willa Hollingsworth’s grandparents still lived. That house had stood defiant in the face of decades of Atlantic storms. What must it be like to live out here, away from everyone else on the island?
Movement on the beach caught my attention, and I gasped. “Look!”
A trio of horses plodded along the water’s edge. One was clearly a baby. It dipped its nose toward the sand, then danced back as the waves lapped its hooves.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen any of the ponies out here,” Hoyt murmured.
Like Ocracoke, Corolla, and Shackleford Banks to the north, Hatterwick had its own band of wild horses thought to be descended from wild Spanish mustangs. They mostly stuck to the hillier part of the island, which belonged predominantly to the Sutter family. I didn’t know how many there were. Maybe a couple dozen? At one time, there’d been more, but their habitat had shrunk as the population of the island grew.
I leaned into the curve of Hoyt’s arm. “They’re so beautiful.”
We watched the little trio until they disappeared over the dunes. Then Hoyt straightened and stripped off his T-shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought we could go for a swim.”
