CHAPTER 20
Marina
Marina jolted awake, momentarily disoriented. Then the gentle rocking beneath her and the soft slap of water against the hull brought her back to reality. Right, Wayfinder. Sailing. Snorkeling, and the sweaty intimacy.
She felt warmth on both sides—Ryan and Katrina in the owner's cabin. A small smile crept onto her face before she could stop it. She had actually fallen asleep, something she couldn't remember doing in the ship’s cabins for a long time.
She closed her eyes again, savoring the moment. Ryan's shoulder rested lightly against hers, and Katrina's arm stretched across the mattress, almost brushing against her. Everything felt peaceful—perhaps too peaceful.
Ryan stirred beside her, rustling sheets as he fumbled for his phone. A second later, he muttered, "Shit." Marina's eyes flew open. He was already sitting up. "We slept too long," he said. "It's almost four-thirty."
Panic surged as she instinctively reached for her phone, only to remember it was upstairs in her bag. She scrambled upright, nearly tangling herself in the blanket. "Four-thirty?"
Ryan nodded apologetically.
She was already grabbing for her clothes. "Shit... shit... shit..."
Katrina yawned and stretched beside them. "It's okay," she said sleepily. "We can make it back in three hours, right?"
Marina pulled on her T-shirt. "If the wind cooperates." She dashed up the companionway two steps at a time. The afternoon breeze hit her immediately, and her gaze darted to the telltales, then out to the water beyond the cove.
The wind had shifted—not dramatically, but enough to make her frown. No luck. The easy broad reach home she'd hoped for was gone. They would have to tack.
Behind her, she heard Ryan and Katrina step onto the deck. "It's shifted," she said to them, still studying the water. "We'll have to work our way back."
Ryan stood beside her. "How much will it delay us?"
She watched the ripples for a moment before answering. "Maybe an extra hour, maybe two." She hated giving uncertain estimates. Sailing rarely respected schedules, especially when you needed it to.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said quietly. "I suggested we rest."
She finally looked at him, seeing his genuine apology, and couldn't help but smile. "It wasn't your fault." Or hers. Or Katrina's. They had all fallen asleep—and they needed it after all the exciting events of the day.
"We'll make it," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
Katrina appeared, carrying three life jackets. "We can clean everything up while you sail," she offered. "That'll save time."
Relief washed over Marina. "Thanks." Sometimes she forgot how dependable her little sister could be. Within minutes, the anchor was up, and Wayfinder was moving again. Marina settled behind the wheel, trimmed the sails, and pointed the bow toward home.
The first tack came sooner than she'd hoped, forcing them onto a longer zigzag course. She guided the boat through the wind almost automatically—ready about, helm over, sheets across, settle. Years of repetition had turned the motions into instinct.
After a while, her thoughts drifted below, picturing Ryan and Katrina working together in the berth, packing towels, stowing snorkel gear, tidying the cabin. It felt... domestic. The thought made her chuckle softly.
It had been a wonderful day, the best she'd had in eight years. A pang of sadness caught her by surprise as she realized it was coming to an end. Tomorrow Ryan would drive back to San Jose, and life would return to normal.
Maybe not entirely, she thought. Silicon Valley was only a three-hour drive away. He could come back whenever he wanted.
She caught herself almost immediately.
Stop it. Haven't you learned anything?
She had been down this road before. She had convinced herself that distance didn't matter, that if two people cared enough, they would find a way. In the end, it hadn't mattered how much she cared.
She wasn't making that mistake again.
Whatever this was between her and Ryan, it was a vacation romance—wonderful while it lasted, but temporary. Better to enjoy today for what it was than build hopes around tomorrow.
She glanced back as Ryan gathered the rinsed masks, snorkels, and fins and carried them toward the cockpit locker.
"How's it going?" he asked.
She smiled, just for a moment. "Better. The wind's cooperating now. We should reach the marina around eight."
He looked toward the lowering sun before turning back to her. "That's not too late for your shift?"
Her smile faded. "It's cutting it close. I don't go on until nine-thirty, but I like to get there early. Besides, we've got a large party tonight, and there are a few things I need to take care of before my shift."
Ryan nodded. "Of course. You need to prepare."
He didn't say anything more.
Marina appreciated that. Ever since he'd discovered the truth, he had never once hinted at it in front of Katrina or asked awkward questions. He had simply accepted it and trusted her to tell her sister when she was ready.
A knot tightened in her chest.
She hated keeping things from Kat.
More than once over the past two days, she had nearly told her everything. The words had come right to the edge of her lips before she swallowed them again. Katrina already carried enough worries because of her. There was no point giving her one more.
Not yet. She tightened her grip on the wheel and turned her attention back to the water ahead.
They reached the marina just as the sun touched the horizon. The harbor was alive with evening activity, boats returning after a day on the water while people strolled toward the waterfront restaurants.
Marina slipped easily back into captain mode, calling out instructions as Ryan and Katrina helped tie up Wayfinder. By the time the dock lines were secured and everything was unloaded, the cool evening air carried the first hint that the day was ending.
As they walked toward Ryan's RAV4, Ryan smiled at her.
"Thanks for today. I had a really good time."
"Me too," Marina said, returning his smile. "Even with the rush at the end."
"It was amazing," Katrina declared as she climbed into the back seat. "We should do it again soon."
"We should," Marina agreed. The words escaped before she could stop them. "Too bad Ryan's leaving tomorrow."
"I'll come back," Ryan said immediately. "Just tell me when."
Katrina grinned. "We'll hold you to that."
Marina's heart gave an unexpected flutter. Don't. She forced herself to smile instead of answering.
Ryan started the engine and pulled out of the marina.
"So," he said, "where should we go for dinner?"
Marina hesitated. "I think I'm going to have to skip dinner."
Ryan glanced at her. "Okay."
"What?" Katrina leaned forward between the seats. "Why?"
"I need to get to work early."
"Your shift doesn't start until nine."
"I still have to get ready."
Katrina frowned. "Ready for what? You put on your uniform and serve drinks."
Marina laughed awkwardly. "It's not quite that simple. There are things I need to take care of before we open."
"It won't kill you to be late just this once," Katrina protested. "It's Ryan's last night."
"I know."
Marina looked out the passenger window for a moment before speaking again. "We can have brunch tomorrow before he leaves. Tonight, you two should still go."
Silence settled over the car. Then Ryan spoke.
"It's okay. Let's drop you off first, and then Katrina and I will go to dinner."
Marina looked over at him. "You don't mind?"
"Of course not."
Relief loosened the knot in her chest. "Thank you."
"I'll grab something during my break," she added. "Don't worry about me."
Katrina sighed dramatically and sank back into her seat. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm still not happy about it."
Twenty minutes later Ryan pulled up outside the Harbor Beacon. Marina unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't move right away. She turned toward Ryan instead. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be."
She leaned over and kissed him softly. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow."
“You will,” he said with a smile.
She climbed out with her carryall, gave Katrina a quick hug through the open window, then turned toward the Beacon.
The wooden door swung shut behind her.
The Beacon was already beginning to fill. Glasses clinked behind the bar as the evening crowd trickled in. From the stage came the soft notes of a piano followed by the warm cry of a saxophone as the trio checked their sound.
Marina dropped her carryall just inside the office and headed behind the bar.
"About time," Ben said. He'd worked here as long as Marina had, and the grin on his face took any sting out of the words. "Good trip?"
"The best."
Ben raised an eyebrow. "Must've been."
She laughed quietly and stepped behind the bar out of habit. The ice bin needed topping off. A rack of clean glasses still waited to be shelved. Someone had forgotten to restock the cocktail napkins.
Without thinking, she reached for the glasses.
"Hey." Ben nudged the rack away from her. "I've got that."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
She glanced toward the reservation book lying open beside the register.
"The Henderson party checked in yet?"
"Not yet. They said they'll be here by nine."
"Good."
She scanned the evening reservations, making sure the larger tables had been pushed together. Satisfied, she ducked into the liquor room, confirmed there were enough backup bottles for the night, then returned to the bar.
Everything looked ready. She finally let herself breathe.
Ben watched her with an amused smile.
"You know," he said, "I've never seen anyone look so happy while checking reservation lists."
Marina looked up. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do." He leaned against the back bar and folded his arms. "You've been smiling all week."
"Have I?"
"Thursday you came in smiling. Friday too. Today..." He gestured toward her face. "It's even worse."
She laughed. "Worse?"
"You've actually smiled three times since you walked in. I'm starting to think somebody replaced you."
She rolled her eyes and reached for a stack of menus that needed straightening.
"I had a good day."
"I'll say."
She worked her way down the bar, checking salt and pepper shakers, replacing one that was nearly empty, then wiping a ring of condensation from the polished wood. None of it really needed doing, but her hands seemed to know where to go on their own.
A server hurried over. "We're almost out of lemons."
"I'll grab some."
A minute later Marina was slicing lemons in the kitchen, chatting briefly with the cook about the Henderson reservation before carrying the tray back to the bar.
Everything was running smoothly. It almost always did.
Still, walking through the routine felt oddly comforting. Every familiar task settled her a little more, like slipping into a favorite pair of shoes.
Ben watched her finish arranging the garnish tray. "Okay," he said. "I'm officially curious."
"About what?"
"The guy."
She looked up so quickly she nearly dropped the tongs.
"What guy?"
"The one responsible for all..." He circled a finger toward her face. "...this."
She snorted. "You're imagining things."
"I've known you for, what, six years?"
"Seven."
"Seven, then." He nodded knowingly. "You don't smile like this unless something's changed."
Marina busied herself lining up the lime wedges. "Nothing's changed."
"Uh-huh."
He let the silence hang for a moment before asking, "So... are you in love?"
Her head snapped up. "No."
The answer came so quickly that even she was surprised by it.
Ben held up both hands. "Okay. Easy."
"I'm not."
"If you say so."
He returned to polishing glasses, the conversation apparently over.
Marina tried to do the same. She counted bottles. Checked the ice again. Straightened a row of cocktail napkins that didn't need straightening.
But Ben's question refused to leave her alone.
Are you in love?
Of course not. She had known Ryan for five days.
Five wonderful, ridiculous, unforgettable days.
She paused, resting both hands on the bar. Was she falling for him? The thought unsettled her. It certainly felt that way.
She thought about the way he'd looked at her on the boat, the quiet way he listened when she spoke, how naturally he had accepted the parts of her she had been most afraid to show him.
A warmth spread through her chest before she caught herself.
Stop.
She had already been through this once.
Distance hadn't mattered then until suddenly it had mattered more than anything.
Ryan would leave tomorrow. She lived here. He lived three hours away.
Whatever existed between them belonged to this week, to the ocean, to Wayfinder, and to the quiet little moments they'd stolen together.
It wasn't meant to survive ordinary life. She took a slow breath and let it out.
Vacation romance. Nothing more.
The words sounded much less convincing than they had that afternoon.
The front door opened, and a burst of conversation drifted into the room.
Ben looked up and smiled. "Right on time."
Marina turned toward the entrance. A dozen people filed inside together, laughing as they shook the cool evening air from their jackets.
"Evening!" Marina called with an easy smile as she stepped from behind the bar. "You must be the Henderson party."
They nodded, introducing themselves while she led them to the long tables that had been pushed together earlier. A few asked about the specials. Another wanted to know whether the band would be playing that night.
"They'll be starting in a few minutes," Marina said. "Enjoy yourselves."
By the time she returned to the bar, the Beacon had settled into its familiar Saturday-night rhythm. More customers had drifted in behind the party, filling the room with easy conversation and the clink of glasses.
Ben slid a pint across the counter to a waiting customer before looking at her. "Okay," he said. "Go get ready. I've got this."
She picked up her carryall. "Thanks."
Ben smiled. "Go knock 'em dead."
Marina grinned. "I always do."
"Now there's the Marina I know."
Still smiling, she crossed the room toward the narrow door beside the stage.
For one last moment she stood with her hand on the knob, listening to the murmur of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the jazz trio easing into the opening notes of the evening.
Then she opened the door, stepped into the little dressing room, and quietly closed it behind her.