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Our toes hit the water, and I’m thrilled to find out it’s just as warm as the air—another reason to love this tropical paradise.
“All right, Trixie,” Ransom says as he takes the helm of this beastly board we’re about to torment ourselves on. “You can sit on the board as I paddle us out. Remember, feet in the stirrups, hands on the boom when it’s time.”
“You sound like a naughty gynecologist.”
He turns his head my way in haste, his brows peaked as if he’d like to hear more.
“Never mind,” I tell him. Now is not the time to try to seduce him with some dirty, flirty routine. I’ll put that in my back pocket for later—should I survive as he so stoutly pointed out this morning.
Let’s get this over with.
Ransom gets us out to deep waters, hops onto the board, and helps me to my feet.
“Remember, we need to find the wind.” He lifts a finger and points to the right. “Now we’re going to uphaul the sail.” He nods to the two flat pieces of plastic lying over the water that we’re about to entrust our lives to.
We reach down for the red glowing sails at the same time.
“Use your legs,” he shouts as we hoist them into the air before us. “Now rock back and lean hard to counter the weight of the sail.”
We do just that and nearly tip over for the effort, but the wind does its thing, filling the sails, and we start to pick up speed.
“Good grief, we’re moving,” I shout.
It was more or less an oral observation, but Ransom gives me a thumbs-up for it. Most likely because I haven’t passed out yet.
“Hold onto the boom,” he calls out and I grab onto the metal bar attached to the sails. “I’ll steer.”
“I’ll hold the dumb end of the stick,” I shout back, trying to sound funny, but really I’m just highlighting the truth.
“Follow what I do with my mast and do it with yours,” he calls out over the rush of the wind.
Within seconds, Ransom has us floating over the water as we race along the horizon at heart-stopping speeds. The heavy cobalt skies, the glowing aqua sea, it all melts into a wash of color and soon it feels as if we’re not only defying gravity, we’re defying the bounds of reality.
When I was a kid, my sister and I used to pretend the rug in front of the kitchen sink was a magic carpet that could take us anywhere. I once fantasized I was sailing over the ocean with a real-life version of a Ken doll, and here I am almost fifty years later with a man hotter than Ken could ever hope to be—and we’re on one heck of a magic carpet ride.
Who said dreams don’t come true?
Here’s hoping I live to tell about it.
Ransom has us flying all across the Pacific, or so it feels that way.
But as fate would have it, the wind shifts and sends both our sails and us into the briny sea.
We laugh and gasp as we come up for air.
“How did you like it?” he pants as he pulls me in close and my legs wrap around his body. It’s more of a life-preserving measure rather than a flirtatious move, but at this point, it sort of feels like both.
“Surprisingly? I loved it,” I say as my skin melts over his.
Ransom lands a cool, salty kiss over my lips and lingers.
“I’m glad,” he says as he pulls back. “How about we head for the shore and I get us something to eat?”
“As long as I don’t have to break the sound barrier to do it, I’m all in.”
Ransom sets me on the board as he paddles us back to the beach just as a small fleet of food trucks arrive on the scene.
“How do shrimp tacos sound?” he asks as I collapse on the towel next to Nettie.
