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Something about her actions reminded me of something a child would do. Then I remembered her name was familiar. “You’re not the Riley I used to run around with, are you?”
She smiled at me. “I wondered if you’d remember me.”
It was coming back to me. I’d come here in the summers, and she’d visit her grandfather’s home a few houses down on weekends. We built forts, hunted for toads, and hiked along the river. There were no other kids who visited, so it was just us.
As a child, she’d been a tiny thing but up for anything. I didn’t think of her as a girl because she didn’t mind getting dirty or squeal when the toads inevitably peed on our hands.
Remembering how her breasts threatened to spill over her bikini top, I cleared my throat. “You’re all grown up.”
Was she still wearing her bathing suit, or was she bare under my sweatshirt? The thought of her nipples grazing the soft material of my sweatshirt had my dick hardening.
Her smile widened, and her appreciative gaze passed over me. “You did, too.”
We were probably about twelve when I got too busy with activities to want to leave Baltimore for the summer. I’d thought about what she was doing from time to time, but for the most part, she’d dropped from my mind.
She tipped her head to the side. “Where do you live now?”
Other than the steady rain on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder, the only noise was the crackling fire. It was intimate. “I run a store in Annapolis—ReSails. I repurpose sails into bags and furniture.”
She smiled appreciatively. “Oh, I’ve seen those.”
I bristled slightly. There were many stores that’d tried to replicate the idea over the years. “Mine have a tag stitched in that shows where the sails have been.”
I stood to grab one from the hook in the hallway. A large blue six was stitched on the large bag. I wasn’t sure why it was important for her to see that what I did was special, but I opened the bag as I handed it to her and showed her the identifying tag.
She ran a finger over the design. “It’s like a little treasure map.”
Pride coursed through me. “This one sailed to Belize.”
“That sounds amazing. Do you still sail?” she asked as I resumed my seat.
“Occasionally.” It was practically a requirement growing up in the area. I just didn’t have many friends to invite onto the boat with me. Everyone I knew was pairing off, finding their significant others.
“My family has a boat too.”
“I remember.” I’d be lonely on the Sundays she’d sail with her family and jealous that she spent so much time with them.
Pushing away the thoughts of how my family wasn’t always there for me, I focused on her painted toenails. Pink. Was she girly now that she’d grown up? Or did she still like to get dirty?
Where had that thought come from? We were strangers. I tried to focus on something else. “Why were you paddle boarding in a storm?”
Pain crossed her face. “My grandfather died. I was supposed to be clearing out the house.”
I remember she’d been closer to her grandfather than her brother, Logan. “By yourself?”
She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “I wanted to go through his things by myself, so I had the time and space to grieve.”
“That makes sense. But it doesn’t explain why you were paddle boarding.” I wasn’t sure why it was so important to find out why she was out there—why she’d placed her life in danger—but it was.
She looked away from me. “It was more difficult than I thought.”
“You shouldn’t haven’t been out there by yourself. Anything could have happened.” Something did happen. I didn’t want to think about where she might have ended up if I hadn’t seen her.
“Hmm.” She hummed, her gaze on her fingers in her lap.
I let the silence fall between us.
Finally, she said, “At the time, it seemed like a good idea to grab the board. I love being out on the water. It makes me feel so small. I just let the current take me wherever it wants to.”
