Page 51
Could this day be any more perfect? I’m doing one of my favorite things on the planet, with a woman who’s quickly becoming one of my favorite people to spend time with. How did that happen? After only six weeks?
She seems to be taking to the pastime I love, and her eagerness to learn about it nearly slays me. I’m invested in her thirst for knowledge. I want to feed that desire in her to help, though there’s very little she can contribute. She has an intuition I appreciate, which is how to stay out of the way and not yak at me nonstop. That’s more than I can say for other folks I’ve invited along on sails—like my former teammates. And she smells a hell of a lot better too.
The jobs I give her are simple, stuff even some of my kids can handle, but damn, she’s adorable doing them. Too adorable for my own good.
Out here, on the water, though, where no one can find me, where no one wants anything from me, I don’t have to clutter my mind with what-ifs and I-shouldn’ts. With the sharp tang of the sea filling my nose, the moist air against my skin, and the sound of the water sluicing around the hull, I can breathe—like the Gail breathes when she’s under sail. Now I can simply be, even though Jackie’s within an arm’s reach. That’s never happened before.
I sneak one of many peeks at her. She’s wearing a half-smile, and her face is turned into the wind, her pert nose upturned. Her smooth skin is tinted the same pastel pink that sometimes paints the sky at dawn as the wind ruffles the unruly blond locks that have escaped her mess of a ponytail and frame her face. Her eyes are closed, her long brown lashes resting against her faintly freckled cheeks, as if she’s taking in every sensation and stamping it into her memory banks. Her body reclines on the bench, one knee bent, one arm draped over her stomach in a relaxed pose. She’s stunning, and I’m an idiot waxing poetic as my greedy eyes take her in.
The wind knocks some sense back into me as the Gail’s gentle heel becomes more insistent. The helm loads up under my hands, and the lines hum with tension. I glance to the west, where a bruised wall of gray rises up higher than it did a few minutes ago, and the horizon blurs beneath a curtain of rain. Whitecaps dance on the water now, where only ripples played before.
Shit! The forecast predicted storms this afternoon, but not this soon or with the signs I’m reading right now. My mind races with calculations as I spill a little wind from the mainsail. How long will it take us to reach the safety of the inlet? Can I beat the building squall?
Jackie notices the change in speed because her eyelids raise and her brows knit together. Her gaze swings from the water’s chop to me. “What’s going on?”
I point toward the menacing wall of gray to the west. “Weather’s moving in sooner than I expected. We’re heading back.”
She swings her legs from the bench and stands. “What do you need me to do?”
“Just sit while I come about. Keep one hand on the boat and stay low.” My voice is calm, though that ominous tower of gray has my concern level rising.
“Is this bad?” she asks.
“I’ve seen worse,” I lie.
I get the Gail headed toward Beaufort and beckon Jackie to the helm. “Keep us pointed that way.” Then I begin reefing the mainsail.
“Why are you bundling up the sail?”
“It’s called reefing,” I answer without taking my attention off what I’m doing. “We’re carrying too much canvas for this wind, so I’m shortening the sail.”
What’s the old saying? “If you’re thinking about reefing, it’s already time to reef.” I don’t share that with Jackie, though. Instead, I take back the helm, and Jackie quietly sits in the same spot on the bench, one hand gripping the boat.
She lifts her gaze to the top of the mast. “Did that work?” There’s a note of worry in her tone I don’t like.
“Yep.” I’m not lying. After reducing the sail, the Gail is easier to control and she’s still moving well, but I don’t know if we can outpace this storm. I glance down at the GPS and confirm our course and speed. I search the shoreline and the inlet’s location. We’re about two miles out. Can we reach the inlet before it hits us?
The effect from reefing doesn’t last long. The wind builds, becoming less steady and gustier. The boat heels farther, and spray begins to fly. The ocean’s churning, the tops of the waves are blowing off, and the water’s turning steel gray. In my peripheral vision, I notice Jackie wrapping her arms around herself. Yeah, it’s colder now too. The birds have disappeared, and the rain is bearing down.
“Life jacket’s under your seat. Put it on. Now.”
My voice is steady, but hers rises. “What about you?”
“Grab me one after you’re set.” Damn it! I fucking failed Safety 101 by not having us do that when I first noticed the signs, but I didn’t expect the squall to whip up this fast.
Jackie buckles hers on, then stands to hand me mine, and the boat heels hard, knocking her into me.
My heart picks up its pace as I push her upright. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Her voice shakes, but she plants her feet and points at the helm. “I can hold that. You need to get your jacket on.”
Her earlier words slam into me. “Don’t fall overboard.”
I hesitate for a nanosecond before I let her take hold of the helm, bracing for another gust that could buffet us at any moment. She holds it steady, a determined expression set in her features, while I yank on the jacket and snap one buckle. I take the wheel back from her, and she surprises me when she wraps her arms around me and fastens the other two buckles. To my relief, she retreats to the bench and holds on with both hands. That look of hers doesn’t budge, and I feel a swell of admiration.
My gaze zips between the oncoming weather, the channel, and the sails. Over and over. Then I check the telltales. The cat’s paws race toward us. The waves grow steeper, closer together. The leading edge of the rain is coming fast, and the dark cloud shelf is twice as big as it was a few minutes ago. This isn’t good.
Then I spot the sea buoy bobbing violently. The sight sends a shiver of relief through me but does nothing to reassure me as it disappears and pops back up in the surging waves.
