Chapter 29
W ith the wind whipping my hair about, sunglasses shading my eyes from the blinding sun, a beer in one hand, the helm in the other, and a stunning woman in a tiny bikini sitting with her legs kicked up and a hat on her head, today might be one of my happiest days.
Period. Well, that and the news that baby Owen was finally sent home from the NICU.
So yeah. Happy day right here.
Bianca shifts, adjusting the slightly too small triangle of her top and I can’t fight my grin.
I might have caught a bit of crap for what I had my head steward pick out for her.
I called him from the plane after she mentioned not having any bathing suits, knowing that during the day, with the staff helping me keep Amphitrite in a good wind, she’d need to wear something.
“Where are we?” she asks, her voice getting lost in the wind. “What’s that island?”
“I think that’s the Marquesas Keys. Yep. Look.” I point over to the leeward side.
Bianca sits up, her hands gripping the rail, her body angling over. “Oh my gosh! I’ve never seen dolphins like this. They’re so close. What if you hit one?”
I chuckle, taking a sip of my beer. “I won’t. Believe me, they’re very used to boats and know exactly how to swim. They’ll follow us for a few miles. They like the current we make.”
“They’re so beautiful.”
“We’ll stop in a bit and maybe you can try to swim with them.”
Her head whips around, her smile uncontainable, and I’m glad I took this risk.
Brought someone along on something that had always typically been just for myself.
My dad and I would take this ship out a lot together when I was younger, but my mother never liked sailing, always preferring her larger cruising yacht.
But in the last few years, it’s just been me and it’s been something I looked forward to.
The quiet. The peace. The solitude.
But last night I made love to Bianca in my bed and again this morning and then we had breakfast together, both of us reading on our tablets.
Since then, we’ve been up here, sailing around the Keys and being able to watch her reaction and excitement and interest in learning one of my greatest passions has been everything.
She’s been everything.
She’s become everything.
Something I had all but given up on.
I’m falling so hard for her. And there is no stopping it now.
“Come here, B. Take the helm.”
Jumping to her feet, she saunters in my direction, slipping under my arm and tucking herself between me and the wheel, giving me a little booty shake against my dick because she can be a delicious tease like that.
“Do you think you can do this?” I rasp in her ear, kissing a trail up and down her neck.
“Just tell me what to do.”
“That’s my girl. Alright, we need to change our point of sail as the wind changed directions on us. Can you feel it?”
“It feels like we’re heading into the wind.”
“Good. Exactly. And we can’t sail into the wind. We’re going to starboard tack. Do you remember which direction that is?”
“Right.”
“Perfect. I’m going to help with the lines and rigging that will move the mainsail and jib how we want them. When I tell you, cut the wheel starboard.”
“Aye aye, Captain Kaplan.” She gives me a salute and I smack her ass, giving it a firm squeeze.
Most everything on the boat is motorized.
I simply have to push a few buttons and it does what I want.
Not as fun as my catamaran, but what can you do?
I just wanted to watch her man the helm.
Especially because she starts singing “Yo, Ho! (A Pirate’s Life for Me)” as she does.
This summer I’ll take her out and really teach her how to sail.
Not even a hint of seasickness, she’s made for this as much as I am.
Bianca does as I tell her, sailing us around for a bit, and just as the afternoon sun starts to dip more toward the west, we drop anchor in the middle of nowhere and then it’s just the two of us relaxing on the sundeck.
The chef made us a cheese board, a crudité along with some dip, and left us a chilled bottle of wine.
We also have two fishing lines hanging out in the water, kept steady by the rod holders.
“This is so much better than being in Boston in March,” she muses, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth and washing it down with a sip of the wine.
“Now you know why I do this a few times a year if I can.”
“I’m shocked you don’t live down here.”
“I thought about it,” I tell her honestly, chewing on a grape.
“After med school, I looked into residencies in Miami, but Boston Children’s Hospital is the best in the world and Boston has always been home.
For better or worse, it’s where I belong.
Carter did his residency in Virginia Beach and Luca did his in Minnesota.
Rina lived in New York for a while, but we all came back to Boston in the end. ”
“I never really had a home. I mean, no place I ever felt rooted to, so I understand why you all moved back home. I lived in LA the longest, between when I was a little girl and then in college and grad school. But between those two periods of my life, it’s been Colorado and Texas.
And with my mother, nothing ever felt permanent.
I like that you’re all so close. That you all value family and your city the way you do. ”
“Family is everything. You know that. You’re the same way with yours.” Standing up, I pick up the bottle of sunscreen and start spraying her shoulders and back. “Your pretty white skin is starting to turn pink,” I explain when she shoots me a bemused look.
“As much as I love the sun, my skin isn’t used to it,” she remarks just as the line on her fishing rod starts to jerk and then pull.
“Oh! Holy crap, I caught something.” Leaping to her feet, she races over to the pole, attempting to lift it from the rod holder only to have the top of it bend and pull against her.
She belts out a scream. “I can’t turn the reel. What do I do?”
Running in behind her, I grab onto the pole along with her, yanking it back toward us before it drags her over the edge.
“You’re not hooked onto the boat. Let go before you get hurt or fall in.
I’ll reel it in.” I start to turn the reel as best as I can, but whatever she caught is putting up an amazing fight.
Both of us angle our weight back, pressing our heels into the deck of the boat.
“Whatever this is, it does not want to become dinner.” She laughs as we continue to struggle. “Should we let it go?”
“I can’t until we get it out of the water unless I want to let the pole go with it, which might hurt it even more.” I continue to alternate between pulling the rod up and then reeling down, over and over, the muscles in my arms and back killing me.
“Wait,” she calls out, leaning over the side and squinting down at the blue-green water. “I can see something. An outline.”
“What does it look like?”
“A fish. What do you mean, what does it look like?”
I roll my eyes. “I realize it’s a fish, but what kind of fish?”
“How the hell should I know what kind? Do I look like a marine biologist? A big one. It looks like a big freaking fish, Kaplan. This is insane. We’re like The Old Man and the Sea .”
I pull up on the rod with all my might and whatever it is finally breaks through the surface of the water, thrashing around.
“Ahhh! Shark. It’s a shark. How the hell did I catch a shark? It’s like Jaw’s cousin.”
Sure enough, a huge blue-gray shark with a pointed nose, round black eyes, massive jaw, and sharp spiky teeth flaps around, struggling like mad, desperate to go back into the water. “Jesus. That’s a Mako shark.”
“Okay. Goody for it. What do we do now?”
“I think it’s a baby.”
“A baby?” She gives me an incredulous “are you crazy, that shark is huge” glare. The thing continues to flail and snap. “My, what big teeth you have, baby Mako shark. The better to eat us with.”
Yanking with every ounce of my strength, I pull up and reel down, but its tail almost hits Bianca the closer it gets to the deck.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks.
“I don’t know,” I yell back. “I thought about bringing it on board, but now I’m thinking that’s a terrible idea.”
“On board? You can’t bring it on board. Let it go. It’s going to eat us.”
“Just you. You’re closer.”
She flips around, throwing me a scathing look only for us both to start cracking up. “You’re bigger than I am. Better eating.”
The freaking shark snaps at us, calling our focus back to it, and yeah, it’s going to eat us. “I could stab it. We have a spear.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t stab it.” She points at the rebellious fish.
“Mako shark is delicious.”
“Kaplan, there is no way I’m eating this thing. Let it go.”
“What kind of sea woman are you?”
“The kind who has been doing this for less than two days and would rather drink wine and eat cheese than kill a shark. This is another one of those times when I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
“No sense of adventure,” I tease. “B, grab the scissors and cut the line.”
“Me?”
“Baby, I can’t do it and hold the pole. This thing is fighting too much, and it’s very strong. I want to get it back in the water safely. We’re using circle hooks. It will eventually rust away or fall out without killing it, but we need to release it and to do that, we have to cut the line.”
“After this, no more fishing,” she threatens, picking up the braid scissors and going for the orange line.
“Promise. Cut it up by me. Don’t get anywhere near the shark.”
She snips the line, and the shark falls back into the water with a massive splash, swimming away, its fin already entirely back underwater. The pole slips from my hand, falling to the deck of the ship with a loud clatter, and then we’re both panting and laughing.
“Wow,” she gasps, a hand over her racing heart. “That actually happened. I can’t believe that actually happened. We caught a freaking shark.” She points to the ocean and the fleeing fish.