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He huffed out a laugh. “You are persistent.”
“You’ll want someone like me taking care of all those parties you mentioned. I’m a terrier.”
“I’d say terror,” he muttered.
“I heard that.”
“I didn’t hide it.” He opened the door. “After you.”
I sailed through the door and the warm blast of air nearly knocked me off my feet. It was barely a week into May and the temperatures were already skyrocketing. The water shimmered in the sun and a wash of sweat drenched my back.
Good thing the wild pattern of my dress would hide it.
I marched my way over to the dock and heard Mason double-time it behind me to catch up.
The Mason Jar II was stunning. Freshly painted in white and deep hunter green, the three levels of the barge were prime for big parties or perfect to spread out for more elegant affairs.
A mural of a tree with mason jars hanging from the branches in varying stages of light was open and inviting. Fairy lights gave the hyper-realistic illustration an ethereal glow.
“Who’s the artist?”
“A husband-and-wife team from Kensington Square.” He came closer and I could feel the warmth of him behind me. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hot flashes. Either way, it spurred me forward to the catwalk.
I nimbly walked across the thin walkway.
“Whoa. Wait.” He reached for my waist—or what used to be my waist. He quickly backed off as I got on board. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good. I appreciate that there are still people who have a shred of chivalry.”
Much different from the men I was used to. Most notably the one who up and disappeared before I knew Bean was a little bean inside of me.
The inside of the boat was even more impressive. Mason jars made up elegant lights along each post. It was a wide-open space that could be set with tables for a romantic dinner, but right now, it was waiting, just full of possibilities.
I set my purse on the floor just inside the door then twirled around and could see people dancing under a dome of string lights. There was a bar along the short side of the boat. Forward? Aft? One or the other. There was also a discreet spiral staircase that led to the second level.
“How many people can be on the boat at once?” I asked as I peered up the wrought iron stairs. I wasn’t quite sure I could make it up there right then. But I did use the railing for support against a sudden wave of dizziness.
“You know I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions, right?”
I turned back around and leaned against the wall with a grin. “I’m made for this job.”
He glanced down at my stomach. “Is that so?”
“Did you want to call Jim McHangover back for another round of interviews?”
He crossed his arms. “I have other options. Plenty of people are looking for a good job.”
“Do plenty of them have my ideas and my energy, invading bean aside?” I straightened off the wall and the twinge made me swallow a gasp. “I saw that spark in your eyes when we were brainstorming.”
“Ideas are easy. It’s the implementation I’m more worried about.”
“Fair.” I stepped forward to skim my fingertips over the bar and to use it for a little balance. “Did you know most women go home from the hospital the same day they give birth?”
“No, and that’s horrifying.”
“Boot you right out the door these days. And while I’d love to take the whole first year to hang out with my little bean, I’d actually be bored.”
“Bored?” Shock laced his voice. “Isn’t that how most women are with their kids? Like they don’t want to let them out of their sight?” His eyebrows furrowed. “My sister-in-law will barely go to the mailbox without him.”
