Page 103 of Reel Love

He makes a show of looking around. “The boat seems to be the only thing you can drive out here.”

“Smarty. You know I don’t drive.”

“And that was the story of every single driver up until the day they learned.”

“I really can’t afford to wreckJoel’s boat.”

“I think you actually can afford to wreck his boat.” He winks at me. “But I won’t let you. I’ll be right beside you. Come here. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I stand, assuming Stevens is going to take the seat I was in. He slows the engine so it’s nearly idling. He steps back and gestures for me to step in front of him. I do. And then he’s surrounding me, his arms coming around mine, my back flush against him.

“Oh, I like driving,” I coo.

He chuckles and I feel the rumble spread through me.

“Is this how you teach all the girls?” I tease, glancing over my shoulder at him.

His face is serious—kind, but intense. “Only you, Alana.”

That thrills me more than he could know. I’m aware he takes groups of women out regularly for lessons and tours of all sorts. But the way he says,Only you, feels possessive, proprietary.

Stevens’ tone turns all instructional while he reaches around, looping his arm past my waist to point to gauges, the key for the ignition, and the throttle. He runs through the basics while we sit idle. Then he tells me to turn the key since the engine is already dropped.

I turn the key and the engine starts, but we’re in neutral, so we don’t move.

“Grab the throttle, Alana.”

This is entirely too much fun already. My nerves are buzzing. Every inch of me is aware of Stevens.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I warn.

Then I grab the throttle and push it up to accelerate, keeping one hand on the wheel. Stevens places his warm palm over the back of my hand and presses lightly on the throttle. His other hand covers mine to help me steer.

I push the throttle up and we take off.

I squeal.

If Stevens’ hand weren’t over mine on the steering wheel, I’d have surely veered us all over.

“You’ve got this,” he says, bending over so his words and warm breath hit my ear.

“Not if you keep that up, I don’t!” I shout over the sound of the engine and water.

“Easy, easy,” he guides me to back off the throttle.

He steps back just a little, lifting the hand that’s covering mine on the throttle. I look at him and then back at the water, as if I’m about to hit something when we’re in the middle of the open ocean.

“You’ve got this,” he says, lifting his other hand off mine.

He’s standing just behind me, but we’re not touching anymore.

I steer like that for a few minutes. Then I see something in the water. A shadow or a lump. I jerk the steering wheel hard to the left to veer around whatever it is.

The boat responds. Oh my gosh, it does!

We jerk hard, Stevens staggering and tipping behind me and then grabbing for the wheel as I stumble into his arm and nearly pitch overboard. Stevens has me pinned between his arms in no time, both of his hands on the wheel as he maneuvers it to right the boat.

I’m breathing fast, my heart near my throat, beating so hard I can feel it.

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