Just before sunset, he untied the boat from its mooring, navigated us out of the harbor, and then cranked up the speed. “Hang on!” he yelled, a devilish grin on his boyishly handsome face. I braced myself, holding on to a handle on the side of the boat as wetook off. At moments, it felt like we were flying, barely skimming the surface of the water. I was grinning like a complete dork, water splashing onto my face, into my mouth, my hair, all over my clothes.
“Sorry!” Max called after a big splash crested over the side.
I shook my head emphatically. “It’s awesome!” He cranked the engines even more, and I screamed, holding on for dear life.
A few minutes later the boat spun in a U-turn and started back toward the harbor at a slower pace. Eventually, he cut the engine so he could sit next to me to watch the last flashes of the sun. He pulled me under his arm, kissing my temple, and when I turned to look at him, my eyebrows slightly raised, he lowered his mouth to mine.
We both missed the sunset.
Back on dry land, when we got into Max’s car, he asked if I wanted to go back to his apartment. The possibility should have occurred to me, but it hadn’t. I declined in the flirtiest way I could think of on the spot: I turned in the passenger seat to face him and asked, “Next time?”
“I can live with that.” He smiled at me, and to his credit, he didn’t look overly disappointed.
For some reason, I never mentioned the babysitting interview.
13
On Monday afternoon I pulled up to a weathered-shingle, cape-style house about a mile farther from downtown Edgartown than Mimi’s house. The hydrangea bushes lining the front rustled in the light wind and boasted blue flower bulbs so bright they almost didn’t look real—like someone had dipped the flowers in dye, or painted them with a perfectly mixed blue oil paint. A white truck parked in the driveway saidKaras Constructionunderneath a logo of a cape-style house, not unlike the one in front of me. I’d seen the same logo on lawn signs around town during my walks.
Luke—the dad interviewing me today—must work for a fairly big construction company here.
I walked up the stone front walkway, pulling down on the short-sleeve blouse I was wearing with a pair of jeans, hoping it was an appropriate outfit for a babysitting interview. The door opened before I could knock to reveal the tall, dark-haired man I’d awkwardly cornered into a conversation at Morning Glory Farm a few weeks ago.
Oh my god. I could already feel my face heating. Would he remember me, too? He was so handsome, I bet women try to talk to him at the grocerystore all the time.
“Hey!” he said. “Morning Glory Girl.” A genuine smile broke across his bearded face.
A matching smile stretched across my own, and my embarrassment faded as I drank in his eye-crinkling grin.
“That’s me.” I raised my arms.
“C’mon in.” He held the black front door open wide.
Right inside the door was a bench with a number of shoes—comically different in size: tiny sneakers and huge boots—kicked off beneath it. To the left there was an open living room with two leather couches, an ornate mantle covered in mismatched photo frames, and a throw pillow on the floor.
“We can talk in the kitchen,” Luke said, gesturing with his arm.
I followed him toward a rectangular wooden dining table on the far side of the room. But when we turned the corner, my eyes went wide. The kitchen took up almost the entirety of the back of the house: three windows over the sink looked out into the lush backyard, and a large, butcher-block kitchen island sported a bowl of fruit in the center. The cabinets were modern, the lower ones a dark gray and the uppers a lighter shade. A clean and somehow perfect white subway tile backsplash tied it all together. It was at least five times the size of my tiny galley kitchen in New York and twice as big as Mimi’s.
“Wow, this kitchen is…incredible.”
Luke’s eyes met mine over his shoulder and held for a moment before he said, “Thanks! I built it.”
“You built this? That’s amazing!” I wasn’t sure why I was geeking out over this man’s kitchen. But it really was beautiful. I had a thing for kitchens, I supposed.
“I mean, I ordered the cabinets from a manufacturer, but I designed it and installed everything.” The hint of pride in his expression was endearing.
I’d stopped by the table, and Luke pulled out a chair with both hands. Looking down at them before I dropped into the seat, my overly curious eyes again noted the lack of wedding ring. From afar the photos on the mantle looked like they were just of himand a young girl with long, dark brown hair.Maybe he’s a widower? Or divorcé with sole custody?
He sat down across from me, and I waited for him to ask his first question. After a few seconds, he tucked his chin and chuckled to himself.
I scrunched my brows as the corner of my mouth lifted, confused.
“Sorry, I should have written down some questions or something. I’ve never interviewed a babysitter before. I’ve always had neighbors and their friends’ teenaged kids to help out, word of mouth recommendations…” He ran a hand down his face and locked eyes with me again. “So, you have some experience with kids?”
I nodded, interview nerves dissipating by the second. Plus, I was ready for this question. Stories about babysitting in my hometown since I was a teenager, and the summer I was a nanny here on the island for a month during college flowed from my lips. “I mostly just made sure they got to and from camp and playdates on time, watched them when their parents wanted to go out to dinner,” I added with a one-shoulder shrug, not wanting to oversell it. “Oh! And I just redid my CPR training at the Y.”
He smiled at that last interjection, and I found myself mirroring it.
