The Summer Getaway: A Novel(59)

“As long as we’re back by dark.”

Her gaze locked with his. “You have my word.”

They went into the rental office. Robyn filled out the paperwork and chatted with the kid behind the desk. They flung around terms he didn’t understand, but he could tell Robyn was impressive. When she pulled out a credit card, he got there first with his.

“I insist,” he told her. “You’re doing all the work.”

“That’s very nice, Mason. Thank you. I’ll repay you by making dinner. Just tell me what you like.”

Her, champagne and the sound of the ocean were all he needed. In fact, he could skip the champagne and the ocean.

They went outside, toward a row of slips where sailboats bobbed in the water. He immediately had second thoughts.

Robyn glanced at the paperwork the guy had given her, then punched a code into a security pad. The gate unlocked, and they went through it.

Everything was fine until they stepped off the sloping gangway. The entire dock shifted and swayed.

“Is this thing floating?”

She looked at him. “Of course. It’s a dock. What would it be anchored to?”

Land? Pylons? Elon Musk had a rocket that could deliver shit to the space station. Couldn’t someone invent a dock that didn’t move?

Robyn pointed to an impossibly small sailboat. “That’s our girl.”

He stood on the dock while Robyn stepped on board. She made the transition look easy. She stored the paperwork in the tiny cabin below—just the thought of which made him sweat. Then she checked the lines and the gas level in the small outboard. Finally she faced him.

“You up to this?”

Up was not a choice of words he would use, but he didn’t correct her.

“Sure,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He started toward the boat.

“Grab here.” She stepped close, pointing to a metal handle. “Swing your leg over. Be prepared for the movement.”

Shouldn’t the boat and the ocean move at the same rate, in the same direction? But they did not. His weight immediately set the boat to bobbing back and forth. Robyn shifted to the other side, amusement bright in her beautiful blue eyes.

She pointed to a bench in the middle of the boat. “Sit here while I run through a few things.”

He managed to cross the small open area, avoiding hitting his head. Once he was seated, she sat across from him.

“Still want to go sailing?”

“Yes.”

She watched him as she spoke. “Would you be more comfortable wearing a life jacket?”

Absolutely, he thought. “Do you?”

“Only if I think I’m going to end up in the ocean.”

“So, no.”

She smiled and stood, showing him how the bench seat concealed storage. “They’re in here.” She pointed to the rear of the boat. “That’s the stern. We use that long stick, the tiller, to steer.”

“I thought the wind pushed us.”

“It does, but we can influence our direction.” She slapped the large metal pole sticking out of the middle of the boat. “This is the mast. The mainsail goes toward the back. Depending on your tolerance, we might use a jib as well. That will go toward the front. Now let’s talk about the boom.”

She loosened a line and showed him how the boom swung back and forth. “I’ll shout out a warning when you need to duck. The standard phrase is ‘coming about.’ For you I’ll probably just yell ‘duck.’”

“I’m good at following orders.”

“An excellent and rare quality in a man. In this case, you need to listen. If the boom hits you, it’s gonna hurt. Even more to the point, it could push you into the water, and then you’ll be sorry you’re not wearing a life jacket.” She smiled. “I will say I’ve never lost anyone overboard, so you’ll be fine. Ready?”

No. Every instinct screamed at him to get back on land where he belonged. But the thought of spending a couple of hours alone with Robyn on this tiny piece of fiberglass was more compelling. He liked the idea of her being in her element. He wanted to see her with the wind in her hair, sailing, laughing. He wanted the experience—apparently more than he wanted to live.

“Ready.”

She directed him to loosen the aft line but hold it in place so the boat didn’t drift. They used the small motor to back out of the slip. Once free of the marina, she raised the mainsail, shut off the engine and headed out into the ocean.

For the first twenty minutes, Mason tried to absorb the experience. Sailing was quieter than he’d expected, and he quickly adjusted to the movement. Once his stomach settled down, he was able to enjoy it. Every now and then a wave struck their bow, and he could taste the salt water on his tongue.

Seagulls swooped down and called out greetings. The small boat skimmed across the water, faster than he would have thought possible.

“This is great,” he said.

She gave him a blinding smile that kicked him in the head and the dick. “Feeling brave enough for me to put up the jib?”

“Sure.” Not that he had any idea what would happen.

She motioned for him to slide back toward the tiller, then put his hand on the stick. “Keep us pointed in this direction. I’ll get the sail ready.”