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I cling to him, my anchor in the storm. "Whatever comes, we'll weather it together."
Dare smiles, a rare unguarded smile that makes my breath catch. In this moment, with the sun on our skin and the sea breeze in our hair, nothing else matters but our love. The future feels bright with hope and promise.
I take a deep breath, savoring the salty tang of the ocean air. Dare's arms are my refuge, his heartbeat a lullaby beneath my cheek. I know that soon we must return to shore and face harsh reality once more. But not yet.
"Can we just stay like this?" I ask wistfully.
Dare's chuckle rumbles low in his chest. "I wish we could. But the world awaits, my love." He kisses the top of my head. "Don't worry. I'll be right by your side."
I cling tighter for a moment, then sit up with a sigh. The sun has begun its descent towards the shimmering horizon.
Dare brushes a windblown strand of hair from my face, his expression tender yet solemn. "It's time."
With a nod, I rise and begin dressing. Dare does the same. We move in easy synchrony, the intimate dance of lovers.
Once ready, we make our way hand in hand to the upper deck. Dare steers us smoothly back towards the marina. I stand beside him at the wheel, drinking in these last moments of solitude.
Too soon, the bustling port comes into view. Dare cuts the engine and drops anchor. For a long moment, we simply gaze at each other.
"No regrets," Dare says huskily.
"Never." I rise on tiptoe to kiss him, sweet and lingering.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
DARE
Istep out of my SUV, shading my eyes against the bright sun. It's fiercely windy out here on the Maine coast and I wish I had brought a heavier jacket than the fine wool blazer I am wearing. I'm here for a business meeting, though, and I want to look my best and most intimidating. I narrow my eyes, starting toward the dock.
Rob catches up to me after a few strides.
"I brought this just in case." He offers me one of my coats, as if he just knew somehow that I wanted it.
I take it, slipping it on. “Thanks. Make a note in my schedule to give you a raise."
"Consider it done." He smirks as he types something into his cell phone.
I spot Adam Larsen, the project manager that I've hired to step in and take over for my uncle, standing on the pier. He's standing on the dock, looking down at a clipboard with a frown.
"Larsen!" I call.
He looks up at me and gives me the ghost of a smile, then goes back to his clipboard. He's an older man, probably in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair and a potbelly. He's wearing work pants with a button-down shirt over a turtleneck sweater.
I stroll up to him. “Tell me something I want to hear."
Larsen releases a huge sigh. "Well, I have the signed deed. So that is one good thing."
I close my eyes briefly in lieu of actually fist pumping.
"Thank god for that."
"Yeah." He scratches his chin. "Can I speak frankly with you?"
His tone says I'm not going to like what he has to say. "Sure..." I say.
Larsen squints down at his clipboard. "This project is a mess. It has a thousand moving pieces. A quarter of those are missing. And a quarter of the pieces don't fit in this puzzle. Most of the appropriate paperwork is nowhere to be found. I'm not sure how the last guy kept track of things, or if he just winged it..."
He looks back up at me. "You just handed me a shit sandwich, excuse my French. And the deadlines you guys had set are impossible, even if we had all the puzzle pieces." He points to his clipboard. "The bottom line is, I'm going to start trying to source new equipment today. But we are looking at, conservatively... probably twelve or eighteen months before we can build a platform, get drilling equipment, and establish a deep sea operation."
