Page 72 of Worth the Trip

He stepped aboard first and turned toward me with his palm open.

“Your hand, Hershey.”

“You know I can get on a yacht by myself.”

“I know.”

“And yet.”

“And yet I like holding your hand, so this argument got diminishing returns.”

That shut me up.

Temporarily.

I put my hand in his.

He helped me aboard and kept it for another second after my feet were steady.

The dinner table waited on the upper deck beneath warm lantern light. Candles flickered between a small arrangement of white daisies and baby’s breath, while the harbor stretched beyond the railing in dark blue and gold.

Landon pulled out my chair.

I looked at him.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

I sat.

He pushed the chair in and rounded the table.

A server brought water and disappeared again while I looked at the flowers.

Landon noticed.

“What?”

“They’re pretty.”

“They are.”

“Nana would like these.”

“I figured.”

“How?”

“Fresh flowers on her table yesterday.”

I smiled.

“She changes them every week.”

“Makes sense.”