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I fire up the engine and tool down the hill to the intersection at Pacific Coast Highway and turn right to drive north to the yacht club.
“So, it’s possible that Adrianne could be at the marina,” I warned Brynne.
We shout over the noise of driving in the open air. She shrugs. She looks magnificent, her hair whipping wildly in the breeze.
“Do you do much business with her?” she asks.
“She has invested with me on projects twice before,” I say. “This is the last time. Brody will hate my guts for that, but I am done with her.”
“I don’t get it,” she says. “If you have money, why do you need hers?”
“I pay her to use her money, so she makes money for that,” I say. “But she also takes a risk. Most of my deals are sound, butsometimes things happen no one expected, or sometimes they take a long time to pay off.”
“Oh,” she says flatly.
I laugh hard.
“What?” she asks, a little self-conscious.
“Have I exhausted your interest in my business?” I smile.
“Pretty much,” she admits, smiling broadly.
I turn the car sharply to the shoulder of the road and kiss her. I say nothing. I check the side view mirror and merge back into the traffic. She reaches for my hand, touching it lightly. I strain to focus on the road; I am so affected by the simple gesture. I may have fallen in love with this woman.
I texted ahead to ensure my boat was ready when we arrived. I didn’t want to spend an hour getting the sails and lines set.
The boat is big enough that I usually keep a small crew on call to man it when I go out, but it is also small enough to manage on my own when I want to. I want Brynne and I to enjoy the day and our time together without other people around. I ease us away from the dock.
“Woah,” Brynne says.
“This is why I didn’t have coffee this morning,” I say. “I didn’t want to overdose.” As a surprise, I had ordered breakfast for us to be served on deck.
“There’s coffee in this,” I say, pointing to a carafe.
“Need any help?” she asks me.
“Nope,” I say confidently. “And please don’t wait for me to start breakfast.”
I have a surprise for her, and I am impatient for her to see it. She lifts the cover off her plate.
“Raspberry Cobbler? This isn’t from Clive’s, is it?”
“Yes,” I say, anxious to know what she is thinking. I was hoping this was a win, but I couldn’t read the look on her face. I might have weirded her out. Something is not going as planned.
“Todd told me,” I say. “He offered it up when I told him what my plans were. I half invited Gretchen and him, but he said no.”
“Yeah, he would rather be in the water than on it,” she says. “Unless, of course, it’s on a surfboard.”
As she leans across the table intending to kiss me, the boat cuts drastically to the right, catching Brynne bent over, her face poised for a kiss, as she is forced to seek her balance. Our entire breakfast is in peril. She will smash into the silver, dishes, and linens with one wrong tip of the boat.
“Help,” she chirps.
I struggle not to laugh. I release the wheel and come to her rescue. I grasp her waist and situate her safely in her seat.
“Better?” I chuckle.
“My hero,” she says.
