Page 39 of All We Need

“Take a seat behind me, sugar.Lesswind,”Peteyshouts over his shoulder.

A small bench is bolted to the floor directly behind the helm.Ifit the life vest on and sit down.Boothstands idly by, feet planted firmly, his stance strong as he rocks with the sway of the boat.

“Where are we going?”Icall over the motor.

“Out to sea,”Boothmutters sarcastically.

Petey throws something at his head.We’regoing to be good friends, he andI.

“Bugs.Gottago a little farther out this time of year to catch ’em,”Peteydrawls, while steering us out of the mouth of the bay.

“Bugs?”Myconfused tone makes him chuckle.

“Lobstah’.Technically, we’re outta season, but they’re still around.”

“Where are the traps?”Ilook around the boat.

“Already out.We’llbe haulin’ them up.Hopeyou’ve got ya sea legs about ya’.”

Booth stifles his laughter into his fist, eyeingPetey, then me with a wayward look.Anyidiot would have guessed there was a hidden agenda behind this “adventure.”

The sun finally shows its face as we exit the shoehorn-shaped inlet, and the winds pick up without the protection of the steep cliffs.It’schoppy, and my stomach dips each time we rise and fall with a large wave.NothingI’mnot used to.Thesalty ocean spray coats my face, the taste of it reminding me of summers inGreece.

“She’s a beautiful boat.Whatinspired the name?”IaskPetey.

He gazes lovingly along the length of the vessel and pats the helm. “Thatshe is.Justlike myMoira.Shewas the one who painted the sunrise.Missher every day.”

My heart aches, but there’s only love in his voice. “She’svery talented.Ipaint a little myself.”

“Huh, you don’t say?”Helooks me up and down, then smiles as if to say,You’reall right, kid.“Whereya from,Aly?”

Here we go.

There’s no point in lying now, consideringBoothknows whoIam, but disclosing personal information isn’t something that’s ever come easy to me.

“NewYork, born and bred.”

“Ah, big city girl,Itake it?Hopewe ain’t too simpleminded for ya.”Hethrows a wink over his shoulder.

“Only one person comes to mind.”Iside-eyeBooth, who scowls at me in return.

“What do ya do for work?”Peteyturns to face me as the boat slows, leaving us rocking with the swell of the waves as we sit a few kilometers from shore.

“Investment.Myfamily owns a private equity company, mostly managing hotels.”

“And restaurants,”Boothadds, voice tight. “Alyhere is the new owner ofOurPlace.”

Petey doesn’t look surprised. “Soyou’re the reason our boy here has his panties in a twist.Gotto ask, whySuttonBay?Seemsa little far fromNewYork’sfancy joints.”

“Don’t bother asking.Shewon’t te?—”

“I saw an opportunity,”Isay, cuttingBoothoff. “You’reright.It’snot what we usually invest in, butItook a chance.Notmany restaurants survive longer than five years.Iwas impressed to learn this one has been around for almost three decades.”Mygaze meetsBooth’sandItilt my head a fraction.

“C minus for effort.”Hewalks towardPetey. “Wantme to drop the anchor?”

“Ayuh, here is good.Readyfor some fun,Aly?”

I stand, just as the boat rolls and lose my footing.Bothmen reach out to steady me butIright myself.

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