Chapter 18
eighteen
ORION
Labor Day weekend was hell for me. All our charters were booked solid. All boats were at capacity. We do private tours and group excursions. Both types are demanding and there is something about the holiday weekend that brings out the worst in people. I was up before dawn each day and I didn’t make it back to my house until late into the night. We had so many last-minute requests my staff suggested we open up the Twisted Rigging for charter.
I said no.
It would’ve been a good business decision. We have the staff to handle it. But I don’t want strangers on my boat. I did it once and it brought me Carina. I don’t want anything to taint the memory. Now that Carina’s been there, I can’t bring anyone to that space, unless it’s with her.
I spend the Tuesday after the long weekend running through paperwork at the office and making sure everything is functional on the business side. Now that summer is officially over, we need to pivot our marketing. We’ll go from families on vacation to the snowbirds visiting for the winter. They are harder to impress since they return year after year and have fixed incomes, so we need to justify why we’re worth it for them.
When five o’clock hits and the afternoon storms have passed, I head home and pull out my kayak. I need some alone time with the water. No one asking for a drink or flirting with me or getting in my way when I’m trying to get the lines out.
Me
I’m headed out.
You started sharing location with Princess Carina.
I don’t wait for a response from her. Sometimes she acknowledges. Most of the time she doesn’t. The point is someone is watching out for me if something were to happen.
It doesn’t take much effort to launch from the beach, and I quickly lose myself in the movement. The water is almost flat for once, the wind minimal.
“Ahoy!” I hear her voice from the direction of the shore.
I turn and see Carina paddling in my direction. She’s in shorts and a long-sleeved sun shirt. My eyes instantly go to the way her powerful legs support her as she gets closer to me.
“Hey,” I respond.
“Hope you don’t mind some company. It’s a big gulf. I can go somewhere else.”
“I won’t stop you.” I want her here with me. I want her close enough to smell her sweat and her sunscreen. I’ll settle for her cruising along next to me.
We find a rhythm and don’t talk. It’s relaxing to have her with me. I’ve never known what it’s like to simply share space with another person. Yes, I want Carina naked under me. But more than that, I want little moments with her. I want her to be a part of my day.
The wind picks up, and while that doesn’t bother me, it affects Carina more. She kneels on her board and adjusts the length of her paddle.
“It doesn’t count if you’re sitting,” I say. “It’s called ‘stand-up paddleboarding.’” I don’t mean this. I want to push her, because I want her, and I’m frustrated that she doesn’t want me.
She shrugs. “I’m out on the water. That’s the point of the activity. I’ve stood plenty.”
She’s not fighting me. She’s not proving my limited knowledge of paddleboarding wrong or arguing it’s superior to kayaking. She’s enjoying the moment the same as I am. I let it go.
The sun sets behind us as we glide back to the beach. I normally don’t bother with towels and instead drag myself home, showering the sweat and salt off as fast as possible. But Carina’s left two towels on the beach, knowing no one would mess with her things on our quiet section of sand. She lays them out.
“Sit for a moment and watch the sunset with me,” she says.
I don’t hesitate. I’ll give anything for a few moments with her.
We watch the sky darken from light blue to black, as the colors on the horizon remain vibrantly orange.
I thought living on the beach in a tourist town would be loud, and some days it is. Tonight, it’s quiet. It’s Carina and me, the water and the sand.
“I got samples for next year’s fall line,” she says. “The colors are gorgeous.”
I freeze. She’s sharing without any prompting, and even in the dark I can tell she’s smiling. She was happy, and she reached for me.
“Yeah? Brown and yellow?” I ask, thinking of the changing leaves in New England.
“No, we tried a brown once. It kind of looked like poop. This is dusty rose and hunter green.”
I love the sound of her voice when she’s talking about her work, soft and wistful. It’s clear to me she loves what she does and has a passion for it.
She’s so close to me now. Our legs brush each other. If she keeps her attention ahead on the water, we won’t be in any trouble. If she looks my way, I’ll kiss her.
Because sitting on the beach, watching the sun set with the person you care about, is the most romantic thing in the world. She turns to me, her face in a slight smile that comes from being relaxed. I hope she says something about the look on my face, because there is no way I can hide how badly I want her right now.
She doesn’t. She studies me and I wonder what she sees. She leans in and presses her lips to mine.
I don’t hold back. I can’t. Not when she tastes like salt and the sea. My hand goes immediately to the nape of her neck, pulling her in close.
I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this. That somehow this is a terrible idea, when it feels so good to have her in my arms.
She ends the kiss but doesn’t pull away from me. I rest my forehead on hers. We need to take care of her board and my kayak. Then I need her in my bed.
Or really, the shower, because we’re both covered in sweat and sunscreen. Every time I see Carina wet, every time I’ve got her in the water with me, all I think about is sleeping with her. Shower sex is my perfect fantasy.
But Carina is skittish. I can’t scare her away with how much I want her.
She doesn’t speak. I feel her breath on my lips.
“You are—” I start.
She jerks away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“ We did that,” I correct. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” Though this is a big deal to me. She’s all I want.
She shakes her head and stands up. “As fun as it would be, a fling is a bad idea. We don’t want you to burn out when you’re stuck with me forever.”
“Right.” She’s wrong. She’s afraid feelings will get involved but it hurts even if we don’t have sex. I can’t deny to myself that I have feelings for her. We would be great together. It would be worth it if we worked out. I want to risk everything for her. Risk the house. Risk Wendell Beach.
She is worth it.
She reached out to me when she was having a good day.
She shakes the sand out of the towel.
“I’m surprised you even use a towel,” I say, falling back on the one thing she accepts from me. “Since you don’t make them.”
I’ve earned myself a glare. “This towel is made from organic cotton, and a portion of the proceeds from every purchase go toward marine conservation.”
“Are they union made?”
A deeper glare follows. “They are the most sustainable and employee-friendly towel company out there. I did my research.”
I wonder how long that took her. If she spent weeks comparing towels until she found one to her exacting standards. I look at the label and make a note to buy some for myself.
She throws it over her shoulder and picks up her board.
“Let me help you.” I reach for her paddle for her, but she beats me to it.
“I got it,” she says.
I expect her to walk away and leave me behind, but she doesn’t. She waits for me to pick up my kayak and together we cross the sand.