5. Owen
OWEN
Owen leaned his upper back against the thick wooden piling of the marina dock, letting out a slow, heavy breath.
His shoulders felt tight, and a persistent, dull ache was settling deep into his biceps and thighs after the grueling final stretch of the men’s rowing heat.
Winning that race by a slim margin had been exhilarating, but his body was paying the price.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his fingers catching on the damp collar of his t-shirt as he focused his attention on the shoreline.
The women’s division was up next. Down by the water’s edge, the sleek wooden rowing gig, Salty’s Pride, was bobbing against the rubber bumpers of the dock.
He watched as the team began to climb aboard.
Isabel was moving with a careful grace, adjusting her life vest as she stepped into the boat.
Linda followed her, her movements steady and focused, while Maggie and Penny settled into their respective seats with determined expressions.
Maggie was in her element, checking her grip on the heavy wooden oar.
Sophia climbed into the stern, taking the small coxswain’s seat that Baxter had occupied during the previous race.
The teenager looked remarkably confident, her shoulders squared and her eyes bright with a sharp, competitive focus she’d shown on her school’s rowing team.
She adjusted the rudder lines with a practiced flick of her wrists, her voice already rising over the lakeside chatter as she began barking out structural positioning commands to the four women.
On the grassy bank, Michael had taken his position as the team's loud, encouraging captain. He stood near the water’s edge, his broad shoulders squared under his team shirt as he shouted instructions across the water, his voice easily carrying over the gentle lapping of the lake.
His co-captain and vice-captain were both in the boat, and he was determined to see them dominate the heat.
"Watch the slide!" Michael bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Keep the rhythm synchronized from the very first pull!"
Beside him, the rest of the sideline crew, Owen, Martin, Baxter, Darius, and Gill, joined in, shouting encouragement as the anticipation across the shoreline reached a fever pitch.
In the adjacent lane, the neon-green clad team from Sanibel sat in their carbon-fiber shell, looking polished and ready.
"On your marks..." Pete's voice boomed over the PA system from the starter's raft.
The four women crouched forward in the boat, their oars hovering just above the glassy water. Sophia leaned forward, her eyes locked on the starting line.
"Get set..."
CRACK!
The starter's pistol fired, releasing a sharp puff of white smoke into the bright morning air where the ground shimmered with the promised heat of the day.
"Pull!" Sophia’s commanding voice cut through the silence.
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Salty’s Pride surged forward with a heavy, wet splash as the four oars bit into the lake in perfect synchronization, the race officially underway.
As the boats sliced through the water, heading toward the halfway turn, Baxter turned to the group with an easy smile. "I'm going to grab us some cold drinks from the cooler while they're on the straightaway," he announced, looking around the circle. "What's everyone's preference?"
He quickly took their orders, offering a polite nod before turning to jog toward the shaded hospitality tents.
With Baxter gone, a lingering awkwardness settled over the small space between Owen and Gill.
They stood side-by-side near the wooden railing, the cheering of the crowd fading into a background hum as the sheer weight of their shared history pressed down on them.
Ten long years had passed since the academic scandal in Charleston had shattered their lives, and since she’d arrived in Sweet Blossom Bay, they hadn't managed to exchange a single private word.
Owen looked down at her, his throat feeling dry as he took in the familiar slope of her shoulders. He knew they couldn't keep dancing around the past. They needed to talk.
Owen turned his head slightly, lowering his voice. "Can we talk?"
Gill glanced up at him, her kind eyes softening as a gentle, reassuring smile touched her lips. "Of course."
Before Owen could formulate a response, Baxter jogged back toward them, carrying a couple of cold bottles.
He stopped near the railing, his eyes moving between them with a knowing expression.
"Could you perhaps wait until the race is over?
" Baxter advised with a supportive smile, his tone entirely free of tension.
"I'm sure Isabel would appreciate your full support right now. "
Owen blinked, a flush of self-consciousness creeping up his neck. He looked out over the lake, where Isabel was throwing her entire weight into the oar, her stroke fluid and powerful. "I was actually going to suggest that," Owen admitted, offering Baxter a respectful nod.
"Drat!" Michael’s sharp, frustrated hiss cut through their conversation.
They turned to see the team captain kneeling in the grass, his face flushed with irritation as he struggled to gather a scattering of loose papers.
He’d dropped Maggie’s and Penny’s compliance clipboards, and the gentle breeze was currently trying to blow the structural registration forms directly into the lake. "Agghhh, I need some help over here."
"I'll handle it," Gill offered immediately, stepping forward to assist him.
She knelt on the grass, her movements swift and efficient as she began stacking the forms. She paused, turning her head back to look at Owen.
"After the race is finished, we can go over to the diner and talk.
There is a scheduled break after this event anyway. "
She stood up, offering Baxter a bright, affectionate smile before leaning in to press a gentle, reassuring kiss against his forehead. "I haven't been much help with the physical events today since I'm thoroughly useless at sports. But I can certainly help with the administrative work."
Michael offered her a grateful look as she took the heavy clipboards from his hands. The men offered a supportive nod, and Gill walked off to help the harried captain organize the team dockets.
Owen watched her walk away, his eyes tracking her grace before he turned his head to face the developer beside him. He knew the parameters had shifted, and he needed to ensure there was no lingering misunderstanding between them.
"Baxter…” His eyes met the man's. “I just need to clear the air."
"Hey, I know," Baxter said, his voice low and level.
Owen looked closely at his face, searching for any hidden sign of territorial anger or jealousy, but he found nothing.
The developer's eyes were calm, reflecting a deep, unshakeable certainty.
Baxter turned his head to watch Gill as she sat beside Michael on the bench, organizing the files, and the look that softened his features was one of love.
"I figured the two of you needed to finally close that chapter of your lives," Baxter said, turning his gaze back to Owen.
"You really love her, don't you?" Owen asked quietly, a sudden, surprising lightness settling behind his own ribs.
The realization didn't bring a single pang of regret or jealousy.
Instead, his heart felt genuinely lighter, a clean sense of peace washing over him.
Gill had survived so much pain, and knowing she was cherished by a man who was willing to run a dangerous corporate sting just to clear her name was exactly what she deserved.
"From the first moment I met her," Baxter admitted, his tone turning unusually sincere. "She changed me, and she changed my world."
Owen offered a nod, his eyes drifting back out toward the water.
Salty’s Pride was currently rounding the yellow marker buoy, and thanks to Sophia’s sharp, authoritative guidance, the Hearts Hotel team was pulling well ahead of the Sanibel boat.
He could hear the teenager’s voice barking out the rowing rhythm over the splashing water, and a helpless smile touched his lips.
"I know that feeling," Owen murmured.
"I know," Baxter said, his voice filled with a protectiveness.
"I can see the way you look at my cousin.
" He turned his shoulders, his eyes locking onto the women's boat as it entered the final stretch.
"She deserves to find happiness again after all the grief and loss she has survived.
But you have to know, she has a protective brother, a cousin, and a best friend guarding her. "
The warning was subtle, delivered with a calm, steady levelness, but the steel behind the words was unmistakable.
"Don't worry," Owen assured him, his voice firm and steady as he met the developer's gaze. "She has my heart and soul."
He paused, his eyes moving over the water where Isabel’s oar was slicing the surface in perfect form. "And Gill... she will always hold a special place in my heart, and you can think of me as her protector as well. And by extension, my brothers, Martin and Michael."
A broad, genuine smile broke across Baxter’s face, the sharp tension fully dissipating as he extended his hand. "Noted. Looks like we both know exactly where we stand then."
A flash of mutual respect passed between their eyes, and they exchanged a firm, silent handshake as the crowd on the shoreline erupted into a deafening cheer for the winning boat.
The lingering cheers of the crowd began to fade into a comfortable, ambient hum as the spectators slowly drifted back toward the shaded picnic tables and the smoking barbecue grills behind Pete's diner.
The lakeside heat was still intense, but beneath the thick canopy of the ancient oaks, the breeze carried a refreshing touch of cool water.
Owen stood slightly apart from the resting crew, his muscles still humming with the physical strain of the race, but his focus was locked entirely on the woman beside him.