Page 81 of Marrying the Nanny

“Yes, but he calls me the dolly grip.”

Reid snorted.

“I’m still trying to figure out whether it’s work I’m allowed to do with my current visa, but I don’t care if I don’t get paid. It’s fun.” She smiled at Quinley, the server who greeted them. “Can I have the chicken in honey-beer sauce with yam fries?”

“Clam chowder is soup of the day,” Quinley said.

“Yeah, throw in a couple of those. I’ll have same as Em,” Reid said. “A couple of the pudding cakes, too. We’ll microwave them ourselves.”

Quinley moved away to punch in their order.

Emma hitched her hip on the barstool.

“Today, Trystan went over all the features on the backpack and why he chose it. Storm was trying to eat everything she could get her hands on so we talked about, you know, how babies have been eating dirt for eons, but that we have no data on how many got sick, so take sensible precautions. We tend to think natural and organic means it’s good for you, but poisonous mushrooms are organic and death is natural so use your head.”

“No shit.” Reid chuckled. “I’ve seen most of his episodes and they’ve always seemed aimed at hunters and extreme sports maniacs. Will these baby tips really fly with them?”

“He knows he’ll lose some of his audience, but a lot of his viewers have grown up with him. They’re marrying and having kids or will. Plus, there’s a whole chunk of his demographic who are armchair travelers. They’ll love it. We caught some orcas feeding in the cove so that makes for good TV, too.”

One of the clerks from the grocery store came in and they chatted with her until their food arrived. As they left with their takeout and walked down the ramp, Emma felt eyes following them.

“People are going to talk,” she realized.

“Yes, they will,” Reid agreed, stepping aboard the Storm Ridge.

Emma hung back. Her father’s sailboat had been seven meters, posh in its dated way, but low and sleek and with an interior like a campervan.

This was three times as long with three decks.

“That’s a lot of boat.” She lifted her gaze to the bridge.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing we own the place because the harbormaster charges by the foot.”

She briefly poked around the interior, which was as swanky as a loft condo in an upscale district, while Reid familiarized himself with the controls. She came up as he was reviewing the nautical charts on one of the screens.

“You know how to read these?” he asked.

“I could probably get us back here if I had to, but I don’t want to be responsible for parking it.”

“Since we have actual sunshine, we’ll go over here and watch it set.” Reid pointed to a position on the chart. “If it gets rough, we’ll tuck into this inlet.”

She cast off and they motored out of the cove, both putting on sunglasses against the glare bouncing off the water as they moved through flowing passages between the peaks and valleys of islands.

“Company,” he said when a spew of mist appeared in the distance. “Humpback.” He slowed the engine. “We’re not allowed to get too close.”

“I know. I saw heaps as a kid, out with Dad. We saw a blue whale once.”

Reid’s brows shot up. “What was that like?”

“Fucking scary. They’re big, mate.”

He chuckled and adjusted their course, picked up speed again. They anchored a little while later in a south-facing bay where a narrow arm formed a breakwater against the swells of open water from across the Pacific.

The weather shift he’d warned about was appearing in the clouds thickening into a blanket of indigo. There were a few gleams of gold, though, and streaks of pinks and orange mirrored on the water.

Emma warmed their meals. While the sunset faded, they ate at a comfortable bench seat at a table on the aft deck. Reid had opted for sparkling water so that’s all she had, too.

“I usually take a zero tolerance approach to drinking while boating, but with these babies, we’re not insured if we so much as sterilize a cut with isopropyl when we’re piloting.”

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