25. Sydney
“Did you get Graham’s permission to take one of his boats, or are we stealing? I’m honestly fine with either,” I quip as Cole unties the rope from the dock post.
“I got permission.” He looks over to wink at me. “I didn’t tell him what I was using it for, though.”
I snort. “You mean you didn’t tell him you were taking his little sister out on a date?”
“I did not. We aren’t exactly close enough for me to know how he would take it. And to be honest, I don’t really want to ruffle any feathers with him.”
“It’s probably good that you didn’t tell him,” I say honestly. While I know Graham truly only wants what’s best for me, he is most definitely an overprotective older brother—to a fault at times.
With the help of Cole’s hand, I climb into the boat and slide into the swivel chair next to the captain’s seat. Then I peer around for any clues as to where he could be taking me. The only thing that looks out of place is a large blanket that seems to be draped over something in the back of the boat.
Interesting.
I sink against the back of my chair as he pushes the throttle into gear. I’m genuinely curious where he could be taking me that doesn’t involve going into town. Maybe a different neighboring city?
The weight of the full day I’ve had presses on my shoulders. I roll them to loosen the tension as the sound of the lake water rolling against the boat seems to calm me. Simply being in Cole’s presence seems to do that too.
This morning was spent glued to my laptop, connecting puzzle pieces in between virtual meetings, and poring over budget spreadsheets for the renovation. The afternoon was mostly taken up with overseeing the delivery of kitchen appliances that finally arrived via the barge—only a few days off schedule.
All of it is necessary work, of course, and I’m happy to be the one spearheading it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel exhausted by the end of the day.
Once we're out of the bay, instead of going left, which would take us in the direction of Baudette and Oak Island, he veers the boat to the right, heading north.
“Where are we going?” A burst of energy has me feeling like a little girl on Christmas morning, eager to uncover the magic I know it will hold. I also know enough about the geography of this lake to know that any cities or operating islands in this direction are more than an hour boat ride away, and we’re already running out of daylight.
“To Canada.” He smiles, pushing down on the throttle.
I watch him with a lazy smile as the wind rushes through my hair, making me feel alive and exhilarated all at once. This kind of adventure is something I’ve admittedly been missing down in Minneapolis.
We pass several scattered islands, each one a different shape, all with wild brush and a varying number of trees sprouting from the bases. Some are small enough to be missed completely if you aren’t paying attention, while some stand tall and majestic—a mini mountain of sorts in the middle of the water.
Eventually, he slows to a stop in the middle of the open water, not a single thing within sight other than an island a few miles ahead in the distance.
After he drops the anchor, I watch curiously as he slips the blanket off the pile, revealing a picnic basket, another blanket, and a small cooler.
“Aw, Cole,” I say his name like it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And it just might be. It really didn’t matter what we were doing tonight. I just wanted to spend time with him. But the fact that he put thought into planning anything at all is what makes my heart flutter.
“There aren’t a lot of places on Takini where we can be alone,” he says, flashing me a subtle, perhaps a little timid, smirk. “I, uh…thought this would be nice.”
“It is,” I say emphatically, watching as he pulls a bottle of wine out of the cooler and pours some into two Solo cups. I take a moment to take stock of my emotions, concluding that I’m not feeling too out of sorts at the moment—honestly, probably a byproduct of being near him—so I accept the wine with a smile.
“We’re going to sit here…” he announces, reaching for the blue-and-green plaid wool blanket, “drink some wine, and watch the sunset.”
“Sounds perfect,” I murmur, helping him lay the blanket on the bench that runs along the back of the boat. Then I have a seat on one side of the bench and bend to help unpack the basket.
“Did Shirley help you with this?” I pull out a perfectly curated charcuterie board, setting it on top of the blanket between us.
“Why? Do I seem incapable of putting this together myself?” He chuckles, a self-deprecating gleam to his smile.
“No,” I retort with a giggle. “She’s just known for packing a mean picnic basket.”
He pulls out a container of fruit and a box of crackers then shifts so he’s facing me. I bite at a slice of cheese as he takes a sip of his wine.
“So…” I start. I plan on taking full advantage of this uninterrupted time together. “I knew a little about Cole from high school. Tell me about Cole now.”
“What do you mean?” He creases his brows.
“Like what’s your favorite food? I want to know what you do for fun. What makes you tick? I’ll even settle for knowing your favorite color. You know—the basics.”
He swallows a bite of a cracker, brushing his fingers against his jeans as if he doesn’t quite know how to broach the subject.
“I promise none of that is fascinating.” He says it in a way that makes me wonder how many people have ever asked him about himself—if any at all. The thought tugs on my heart in an aching sort of way.
“Try me,” I urge.
“Alright, let’s see.” He sighs. “My favorite color is brown.”
“Shocker,” I chide, pointing to his brown flannel button-up and caramel-colored vest. He ignores my comment and continues on without batting an eye.
“My favorite food is barbecued ribs, and what makes me tick…” He looks off into the distance, thinking.
“Besides me.” I flash a snarky grin.
“Besides you,” he mutters through a smirk. “Airports.”
“Airports?” I laugh.
“Yup. Can’t stand them—too many people.”
“That’s valid,” I reply. “You forgot what you do for fun.”
He shrugs. “Carving things.”
“That’s your job, technically,” I point out. “But I’ll accept it.”
“Your turn.” He tugs on a slice of salami that’s been perfectly coiled into a bundle in the shape of a rose.
“Hmm. Okay, are we talking the same questions, or am I allowed to go rogue?”
“Whatever you want.” He studies me in amusement.
“Okay.” I sit up to prepare myself for the importance of this moment. “I love tacos in any form. I love to be organized, but I have a love-hate relationship with the planner that’s hanging on my wall. Sometimes I’d like to just erase it all and disappear for a while instead. And my favorite thing to do with any free time is bike on the path in front of my apartment that runs along the Mississippi. That or do goat yoga—have you ever done it? It’s where you do a yoga class, and goats roam around and jump on your back.”
Clearly, he’s never heard of that particular kind of yoga, judging by his face and emotionless shake of his head, but before he can comment, I blurt out one more thing that came to mind.
“Oh, and I have a bucket-list dream of going to France someday to admire the architecture there.”
He nods, taking me in with a calmness that feels almost like an anchor of sorts. There’s a calm look to his face like there’s no place he’d rather be. He’s simply content to be in the moment and present with me—even if all we’re doing is talking.
The sun starts to set, the sky starting to ever so slightly get dimmer. I follow Cole’s lead by placing the food back into the basket. Then he leans back against the side edge of the boat while bringing one bent knee up along the bench. It leaves plenty of room for me to slide in front of him if I were to choose to.
“Am I supposed to squeeze in there to snuggle and watch the sunset with your arms around me? Like in those romance movies?” I comment, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the mere thought of it.
He pins me with an amused, almost daring gaze that sends a prickling spark running across my skin.
“Only if you want to,” he says so softly the words get carried away almost instantly in the wind. If he didn’t gently tap the blanket in front of him, I would second-guess whether he said it at all.
A surge of exhilaration pushes me over to where he sits, lowering until my back is flush with his torso, my feet stretched out straight in front of me. His arms come around me like a cage, his right elbow propped on top of his bent knee.
Immediately, I feel safe and protected with his arms around me, in a unique way that I never have before. The beat of his heart thumps against my back, and his chest rises and falls with his breath. I’m comforted somehow, although I’m not sure from what.
“I made you something,” he murmurs against my ear.
“You did?”
“Yup.” He shifts, moving my body along with his as he digs in his pocket. He settles back, bringing a small object in front of me.
I take it, biting my lip when I realize what it is; a small eagle made out of wood perched on a branch with its wings spread wide.
“You carved this?” I breathe in wonder.
“I did,” he says gently.
“Thank you, Cole,” I whisper. The thoughtfulness behind his gift makes my chest swell with emotion.
“You’re welcome,” he says close to my ear.
“Did you have this in your vest pocket the whole time?” I tease, which earns me a chuckle.
“It was getting a little uncomfortable,” he admits.
I run my fingers across the eagle, admiring the details of its beak all the way down to its claws, remembering the moment we shared while watching the eagle’s nest on his property. Emotion continues to tug on my heart at his gesture, and the intensity of it sparks a subtle wave of anxiety with the next breath—an urge to put a name to whatever this is.
As I reach my hand up to hook it over the spot on his arm closest to me, my head laying against his chest, I whisper, “What are we doing, Cole?”
“Watching the sunset like they do in those romance movies,” he states quietly.
“I mean with us?” I dare to ask, not sure I’m ready to hear an answer that might end us before we’ve even begun but needing to address it all the same. “I’m only here for the duration of the renovation, and we both live in different cities.”
His heaving sigh has me lifting slightly along with his chest. “Honestly, I’m not really worried about that, Sydney.”
“Oh, yeah? Care to clue me in as to why not?” I ask in amusement.
“Roaming is a part of who I am. It’s in my blood,” he explains softly. “I stay wherever I feel like for as long as I feel like. Whatever feels best in the moment. And right now…I think I’d like to be here. With you. If you don’t mind. I don’t have plans to go back to Longville anytime soon.”
His words give me a rush of relief that further proves how much weight I was putting in his answer. This might not answer the question about the future, but at least we’re on the same page for now.
“I think I’d like that,” I murmur, turning my head to look up at him as best I can. His gaze immediately connects with mine, and he runs a thumb along my cheek. My skin burns under his touch. Anticipation has the air getting stuck in my throat as he peruses me with an intensity I can’t seem to get enough of.
“You can’t tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmurs.
As much as I might second-guess the reality and logistics of what we’re starting, he’s right. There’s no denying what’s between us. What has seemingly always been there.
“I do.” The words come out a mere breath before he presses his mouth to mine—gently, of course—as he cradles the back of my head that’s twisting to meet him. He slides his lips against mine as I open my mouth, deepening the kiss that’s as intoxicating as it is soothing.
I get lost in the moment with him, relishing the high his kiss gives me. When he brings his arm across my chest to lightly run his fingers along my collarbone, I tighten my grip on his forearm in response and let myself sink even more into the rush of whatever this is.
It isn’t until he pulls back and I slowly open my eyes that I realize the sun is almost completely down. I settle against him, our rapid breaths syncing together, slowing to a normal pace as our chests rise and fall in unison. We’re a tangle of limbs, curled together as we watch the last sliver of the sun dip underneath the horizon.