Flynn gestured for Sage to go first, and gave her a wide berth, following several steps behind, averting his gaze. But not before he noticed she still wore the braided friendship bracelet around her ankle. The one she’d made for each of them—him, Kev, and herself—the summer before his brother died.
The sight of the faded blue and white thread tied his stomach tighter than a bowline knot.
Focus, Flynn. Don’t be weak.He heard his father’s voice in his ears and straightened his shoulders.
Herman led them into a cramped shared office space with an antique desk, filing cabinets, and matching brocade armchairs. He motioned for them to sit, but they both declined.
Let’s hurry this along.
Sage stood against the far wall, arms crossed, with the expression of a feral cat surrounded by slowly rising water. One wrong move and she might claw his eyes out, which he admittedly deserved.
He tried not to notice the way sunlight streamed from the small window, outlining her perfect figure with an amber glow.
Get a grip,buddy. Even bathed in anger and apprehension, his ex had never looked more beautiful. Way more beautiful than would be wise to admit, even to himself.
He swallowed against the uncomfortable roughness coating his throat, trying his hardest to concentrate. “What’s going on, Herman? I won the bid, fair and square.”
“I understand, monsieur. But the boat’s owner, Edwin Mackensie, has pulled it from the auction.”
“What?” Sage cried. “Why?”
“He’d like to make you both a proposition,” Herman explained.
“I don’t understand.” Sage said what he was thinking. “What exactly is going on here?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Herman shifted his feet, visibly uneasy. “You know how Mr. Mackensie is.”
“A few sails short of seaworthy?” Flynn teased, then winced. His father’s voice broke through his thoughts again, ever the critical conscience.No jokes. No wisecracks. It’s time to grow up or no one will take you seriously.“No disrespect. I only meant he has some oddities.”
“He’s a bit eccentric, yes,” Herman agreed. “But it may be to your advantage this time. At least, foroneof you,” he said with a melodramatic flourish. “He’d like you to locate something on board the sailboat. Something he’d given up hope of ever finding.”
Flynn cast a quick glance at Sage, but she didn’t appear to have a clue, either.
“It’s his late wife’s diary,” Herman explained. “She wrote in it religiously whenever she set sail but kept it hidden from the crew. Mr. Mackensie has hired countless people to locate it, since he won’t board the boat himself, but all attempts have failed.”
“What makes him think we’ll have more success than everyone else?” Sage asked.
“He wants you to live aboard the boat for three days—safely docked at the marina, of course—fully immersing yourselves in every nook and cranny. Whoever finds the diary can keep the boat for the impossibly low price of five thousand dollars.”
“Five thousand dollars?” Sage breathed, her eyes sparkling. Her entire posture had shifted from closed off to adorably eager.
Flynn couldn’t look away. This was the Sage he remembered. Vibrant. Hopeful. Earnest. For one irrational moment, he actually relished the possibility of being trapped together—to recapture even one second of what they’d lost. But he couldn’t step foot on a sailboat. And definitely not with Sage. Not after—he forcibly shoved the thought aside with a sharp breath.
Don’t even go there.
“That’s correct,” Herman confirmed, assuaging Sage’s disbelief. “If you agree to the terms, I’ll draw up a quick contract. You have forty-eight hours to prepare yourself for boarding the—”
“Hold on,” Flynn interjected. “This doesn’t sound nuts to anyone else? Why three days? Why us? Why now?”
“I’ve learned not to question Mr. Mackensie’s idiosyncrasies,” Herman admitted. “His actions may not make sense at first, but there’s always a method to his madness.”
Madnessbeing the operative word, Flynn thought. “And what if I find the diary on day one?”
“What ifyoufind it?” Sage wore her glare again.Good grief. Even irritated, with her face all scrunched up, she looked gorgeous.
Focus, Flynn.“Or ifyoudo,” he said, getting back on track. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. My question is hypothetical. If one of us finds the diary on the first day, do we have to fulfill the full seventy-two hours on board?”
“Yes, that would be the arrangement.”
