Page 94 of If All Else Sails
Somewhere, I can imagine Toni cackling. A veryI told you sokind of laugh. AFinallykind of laugh.
As much as I like to downplay this, my last serious relationship was in high school. How serious can a high school boyfriend be? In my case, not very.
But until now, until spending all this time with Wyatt, I haven’t wanted to consider being in another relationship. Even thinking about it now has my stomach cramping with the kind of dread that always accompanies change and new things.
“Josie! Are you ready to cast off?” Wyatt sticks his head down the hatch. He’s frowning—of course—but even his downturned lips and flinty eyes feel softer aimed my way. My stomach flips as I stare up at him, the sunlight splashing over his cheeks.
I join Wyatt on the deck, where he’s messing with the GPS. Today we’ll pass Mile 0 as we head through Norfolk and officially enter the ICW. I know this fromThe Intracoastal Waterway, Norfolk to Miami: The Complete Cockpit Cruising Guide, which Wyatt teased me about earlier. Right before listening to me ramble about books for far too long.
When I finally came up for air and realized I’d been talking for maybe ten minutes straight, I wanted to dive overboard. But Wyatt was watching me with an expression I’d never seen before—one that made heat creep up my neck to my cheeks. Rapt attention mixed with what looked like...hunger.
When he glances up from the GPS now, he’s wearing the same expression. I don’t know what to do with it. With him.
So I blurt out a boat question. “Did you switch our GPS from nautical to statute miles?”
A smile lifts one side of his mouth. “Were you like this in school?”
“Like what—a total nerd and know-it-all?”
“I was going to say someone who loves learning, but okay.”
“That does sound better. Jacob preferred to call me a nerd and know-it-all.”
“And were his grades always as bad as they were in college?” Wyatt asks with an arched brow.
I laugh. “Yup.”
Wyatt nods, and instantly he’s back in serious sailor mode. A relief, since I know how to handle this version of him.
“I took Jib for a walk. But maybe today she’ll start using the turf,” Wyatt says.
We both glance up and laugh at Princess Jib-Jabberwocky, still in her ballerina outfit, lying on the fake grass, back flat on the ground and belly toward the sky.
“I should put her in her bikini for sunbathing,” I say.
Wyatt’s gaze swings my way. “Tell me you didn’t buy the dog a bikini.”
“I didn’t buy her a bikini.”
There’s a pause. “You bought two.”
Three, actually, but who’s counting? I don’t answer, only smile.
Wyatt shakes his head, taking a long drink from a water bottle. The sun is barely up, but the day’s already hot. My skin feels tight and sensitive in the places I couldn’t reach with sunscreen yesterday. It’s not a full, angry burn, but I definitely don’t want it to be worse.
“Before we go, could you put sunscreen on my neck and shoulders? I missed some spots yesterday. I don’t want to get more sun and—”
“Come here, Rookie.”
This shouldn’t make me nervous. It’s just rubbing on sunscreen. It could almost be considered a medical thing, considering skin care prevention and all. Basically skin-cancer prevention.
Or so I tell myself as I walk over to Wyatt and hand him the tube of sunscreen. I almost believe it too.
But when I turn my back, anticipation sparks across my skin, like every cell is now a live wire. It’s torture facing away and waiting, listening to him open the cap. The noise the bottle makes when he squeezes some sunscreen on his palm should break the tension, but apparently not even sounds that would make my elementary kids giggle can dampen my mood.
I’m about to move my hair—I need to pull it back into a ponytail anyway—but Wyatt’s hand gets there first. His fingers gently move up my neck as he takes my hair in his hand.
“Hold your hair back,” he commands, voice low and rough.
