Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(23)

“I’m happy to help,” I insist, spying my opportunity. “You go cruise, and I’ll take care of everything here. You don’t need to worry, I’ve got it covered.”

Marcie wavers. “Well, we do have a lot of clients looking right now, and I’d hate to leave them in the lurch.”

My clients.

“I promise, I don’t mind running things. It won’t be the same without you,” I quickly add, in case I seem too glad to have her gone. “But I’ll do my best.”

“You’re a gem,” Marcie beams. “What would I do without you?”

Cruise on off into the sunset, I think, but give her a smile instead. “I’m just happy to help.”

Help—and prove the office can run so smoothly without her, she’ll never have to worry about leaving it in my hands again. And if Marcie has so much fun down there in Florida she decides to make it a permanent move? Well, I’ll be ready to take over for good, just like I’ve always wanted.



I happily wrap things up for the weekend, then head home, quickly changing into some cut-offs and sneakers before I go meet Sawyer down by the creek. I know Lottie doesn’t understand why I love fishing—none of my girlfriends ever do—but it’s been a hobby of mine ever since I was a kid. My dad taught me, and we would spend the whole afternoon out on the water, sitting there with our lines floating in the water, and a cooler of soda pop and homemade sandwiches at our side. Even when I got older, and spent my weekends out at parties or down at the beach with my girlfriends, I would still make the time every month for our fishing trips; those relaxed afternoons just talking and laughing, feeling the lines catch when we finally got a big one. That’s what made it even worse when he came clean about his affair. All those afternoons, he’d been lying to me, chatting about school and his work like nothing was wrong, when all the while, he’d been living this secret life, fooling us all.

Today, I push away those dark associations. It’s a gorgeous summer afternoon, the heat mellowed to an easy summer’s breeze, and I know the water will be cool and placid out on the creek. I’ve already got my rod and tackle box stashed in the trunk of my car and a bikini under my clothes, so I park, grab them, and head down the path to where my old family rowboat is moored to the community dock. Sawyer is already there, loading up the boat with a cooler and his line.

“I hope you bought snacks,” I call ahead. “And I’m not talking about carrot sticks this time.”

My words fade on the breeze. Sawyer straightens up—but it’s not Sawyer. Not even close.

“Don’t worry.” Will smiles at me, back to his sexy, stubbled self in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. “I’ve been warned. Sawyer said you’d push me out of the boat if I so much as dared to bring a celery stalk.”

My heart beats faster. “Where is he?” I ask, trying to seem cool.

“He sends his apologies, something about a breech birth on a mare,” Will explains. “He didn’t want to leave you in the lurch, so he sent me instead. Surprise.” He gives me a crooked grin.

But I’m not surprised, not one bit. Seeing Will here, looking so damn good framed in the hazy afternoon sun, it feels strangely inevitable. The tension I’ve been carrying all week seems to melt away, and I suddenly feel lighter, free.

I’m happy to see him.

“Have you ever fished before?” I ask, moving to dump my things in the rowboat. Will blinks, like he was expecting me to put up a fight, then nods.

“I know my way around a line,” he says, holding out a hand to help me off the shore. I step into the boat and settle on one of the narrow wooden benches, tucking my feet beside the cooler. He climbs in with me, pausing as the rickety old boat rocks and creaks from his weight. Will looks uneasy. “Are you sure this thing is seaworthy?”

“Hey,” I protest. “Don’t insult Harold.”

“Harold?” he echoes, laughing. “Let me guess, he’s Berta’s cousin.”

I laugh, surprised he remembers my old car’s name. “I’ve had this boat since I was a kid,” I explain. “My dad got it for me for my seventh birthday. It’s pretty much indestructible.”

“Are you sure?” Will carefully takes a seat.

I stick my tongue out. “Just for that, you can row.”

Will jams on a baseball cap, grabs the oars, and pushes off from the shore, rowing us out into the creek with steady, sure strokes. His biceps flex with every pull, and I’m glad I’ve got my shades on to hide my lingering eyes.

“So how was your week?” I ask, reaching to trail one hand in the cool water. “I haven’t seen you around.”

“Miss me?” Will asks.

“Maybe,” I smile back.

“Then my devious plan is working.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t play games.”

“Games, no. Plans, yes,” Will corrects me. “Everyone needs a plan.”

“So what’s yours?”

“Well, right now it’s to spend the afternoon out on the water with a beautiful woman. So I think I’m doing great.”

I can’t help smiling. “That’s it? Nothing beyond the next two hours?”

“I don’t know.” Will grins back. “If the fish are biting, we could shoot for three.”