“We should do this more often,” Emma said, moving to stand beside her, causing her to jump slightly. Emma Auston was a vibrant redhead who had skin like a porcelain doll and energy like the nineteen-year-old she was.
“Hm?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
“Sweet-sixteen parties,” Emma answered with a smile. “Maybe we can make it a regular thing. Spend some money advertising at the high school? I know a lot of girls I went to school with would have loved having their parties here.”
“I’d thought the same thing,” Robin admitted. “Next time we’ll have to request more chaperones though.”
“Agreed.” Emma chuckled. “I’ve caught five couples making out in dark corners. I never knew there were so many of them around this place.” Emma shook her head, then leaned closer to her. “One of the couples happened to be your parents.” She nodded to where her parents’ car taillights had just disappeared down the drive.”
“Seriously?” Robin laughed.
“Why do you think they left early?” Emma chuckled as she walked away.
“Thanks for that imagery. I won’t be able to get it out of my head now,” she called after her.
“That makes two of us,” Emma called back.
Deciding she needed another moment, she stood out on the patio and took several deep breaths until she felt a little more relaxed and in control. At least in her head.
Tomorrow, well, she was just going to enjoy what came. No matter what it was.
Chapter Six
George couldn’t count how many times over the years that he’d been out on the water in his family’s sailboat.
He knew what he needed to bring for a good day out on the water.
He tried not to think about how it would be the first time he’d taken a woman out on the family boat or that, after promising to keep things light with Robin, a full-day date could be crossing that line.
Instead, his mind was consumed with being with her again. Enjoying that tight, soft body of hers, appreciating the way she moved up against him.
He thought of that as he packed everything that they would need in the sailboat named Dawn-Treader II. It was named after the smaller vessel that had gone down the day George’s grandfather, the man he was named after, had perished and his uncle Iian had lost his hearing.
He could remember the first time he’d gone out on the small single-mast cutter. He remembered because, that day, he’d fallen in love with sailing.
It had been his uncle Todd and cousin, Matthew who had taken him out on the water first. He must have been around eight and, from that day forward, he’d begged his uncle each weekend to take him sailing again. He had, of course, and had shown him the ropes.
He stashed the food in the small kitchen below deck and started prepping for the day. When Robin showed up, everything was ready.
“Morning,” he said with a smile as he held out a hand for her to climb aboard.
She looked down at it and smiled. “Isn’t there some sort of rule that I have to ask for permission to come aboard?”
His smile doubled. “Permission granted.” He reached across the space, placed his hands on her hips, and carted her across as he covered her lips with his. “Morning,” he said again.
“Mmm,” she sighed against him, then glanced around. “Show me around?”
He nodded and released her, then quickly held her hips when she swayed with the boat.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“It takes a while to grow into your sea legs,” he explained. “Until then, you can sit or hold onto the railing. This”—he motioned around— “is the Dawn-Treader Two.”
“Two?” she asked with a frown. “What happened to the first one? Did it sink?” she asked, concern flooding her voice.
“It did,” he answered. “Over thirty years ago, during a terrible storm. Taking my grandfather”—he leaned towards her slightly— “the man I’m named after, with it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Then she snapped her finger. “Your uncle. Is that how Iian lost his hearing?” He nodded. “I think I heard the story when I first moved into town. Your grandfather sacrificed his life for your uncle’s life.”
“Yeah.” He nodded with a sigh. “My aunt’s painting of the first Dawn-Treader is hanging in the Golden Oar.”
“I’ve admired the painting.” She glanced around and seemed to relax. “So, how long have you been sailing?”
“Since I was eight. Or around there. My uncle Todd taught me. I can’t remember a summer I didn’t spend countless hours out on the water. Every Jordan knows how to sail.” He motioned. “The galley.” He opened the small door that led down the narrow stairs. “Bathroom, kitchen, bedroom.” He wiggled his eyebrows and gained a smile from her. “But for now…” He walked over and lifted up a life vest and handed it to her. “Until we get out on open water. Family rules.”
She took the vest from him and easily put it on over her jacket.
“There’s coffee.” He grabbed the cups he’d stopped at Sara’s Nook to get earlier. “It’s probably still a little warm. And there are fresh baked goods.” He handed her the coffee and then held out the bakery box.
Taking a muffin for himself, he moved over to the start the motor.
“Any questions?” he asked as she moved over and sat down to eat her muffin and sip her coffee while he finished untying the lines.
“Lots,” she said, watching his every movement. “But the first question is, should I expect to get wet?”
He chuckled. “No, not unless you decide to jump in the water,” he said, between sips of coffee and eating the rest of his muffin.
Using the motor, he slowly steered them out of the harbor. He knew that if they had started out earlier, they would have been in line to get out of the narrow inlet. Fishing boats usually headed out around five in the morning and would normally return back to Pride Harbor somewhere after noon.
“Aren’t you going to use those?” Robin asked, motioning towards the sails. She held her coffee mug between her hands, using its heat to stay warm.
“Not until we get out on the open water. It’s easier to maneuver inside the harbor with the motor.” He motioned with his free hand. “There’s a blanket,” he started.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “It’s like you said, it makes you feel… alive.” She turned her face up to the sky. “What’s that called?” she asked him, motioning overhead with her free hand.
“That’s the mainsail. The one in the front is called the headsail,” he answered her.
“That’s the mast?” she asked, motioning again.
“Yes.” He nodded. “See, you’re already more knowledgeable than most. You’ll have your sea legs in no time. Just wait and see,” he joked.
For the next half hour, as they slowly made their way out to the wide openness of the Pacific, he taught her all about the boat and about sailing.
She helped him unroll the sails, and when they filled with wind and the small vessel took off, she laughed and held onto him as they jutted across the water.