Chapter 2
two
CARINA
I feel the captain on my heels as I rush to get my head on straight. I’m supposed to be calm and collected. I am. Or at least I try to be. But Orion washed over me like a wave I wasn’t expecting. There’s no way it affected him like he affected me.
He’s tall, with broad shoulders and biceps that go on for days. A storm could hit him, and he wouldn’t notice. He has a short beard that’s more likely him not shaving for a few days.
I don’t generally think I have a type. I haven’t dated seriously in years, preferring flings. Most of the time, I go for men as different from my MBA-having, suit-loving ex as possible. Which is easy to find on a yoga retreat and at athleisure wear conferences.
This man’s chocolate eyes hint at a wild side I’ll never be able to match. His brown hair under his ball cap is on the longer side, brushing his chin, and I can tell he runs his hands through it all the time. I’m not thinking about running my hands through it. It would be so soft if I did.
He’s so fucking handsome.
I don’t understand how I’m suddenly so horny.
“Haley!” My voice sounds too high even to my ears. I’ve put my sunglasses back on since the sun reflects off the water and the white of all the boats. “Thank you so much for doing this.” Nathan has already stepped up to help her with the coolers of food she’s brought.
“Of course! Any chance to be on the water, especially when I don’t have to reel in or gut fish.” She’s dating a fisherman and loves catching something and cooking it the same day. She introduces herself to both Orion and Nathan. Which is helpful because I’m sure I would have stumbled over my words under Orion’s watchful eye.
I truly don’t understand what’s going on with me. I’m around attractive people all the time. Maybe my previously unknown pirate fetish has decided to rear its ugly head? It’s been six months since I’ve had a fling. Maybe this is my body telling me Orion is a prime candidate.
My mind isn’t opposed.
The thought doesn’t go away as Stacy and Jeannette arrive, and Orion prepares the boat for us to leave. I’m aware of his presence even when I can’t see him. Of course, I watch as he guides the boat from the dock with minimal help from the deckhand. Anyone would. And I notice the way his biceps fill the sleeves of his polo shirt as he raises the sails.
I make clothing. I pay attention to how it fits people.
Now he’s at the wheel—the helm, he calls it, which is right next to where I’m sitting. We’re moving along faster than I expected. We tilt as the sails catch the wind. The boat is beautiful, and seeing his face light up with joy while he’s sailing makes me happy.
The sails power our movement, but it’s also him. He’s the one adjusting the angle of the sails and constantly watching the wind and the water. It’s baffling to me that he’s able to keep track of so many things at once. I can see his attention moving around. And it’s doing something to me I didn’t expect when I decided to take my team out for a day of sailing.
It must be the competence I’m attracted to.
But I have competent male friends who don’t do anything for me. Alex is an expert bartender. I’ve seen women forget what they’re doing while he shakes a cocktail. Christian, my closest male friend, turns heads wherever he goes.
Neither of them affect me the way Orion does.
We sail down the island, just far enough out that we won’t encounter any swimmers. I watch my beautiful beach pass by and the miles of sand that I love so much. The wind blows my hair, and I’m constantly pulling the loose strands back behind my ears. It’s still incredibly hot out—there’s no way to avoid that in August—but I feel better here, out on the water, than I have anywhere else in a while.
Haley passes the rosé around. I brought plenty, so we won’t run out, but I keep my sips superficial. This is a celebratory trip but I’m still the boss. I don’t get to cut loose.
“You’re not having any?” I ask Haley when I notice she’s not taking any either. “I know it’s not champagne.”
“I’m working,” she protests.
“Please. You’re barely letting me pay your hourly rate.” It’s an old argument. She thinks since she cooked for me when we were college roommates, she could never ask me to pay her even though she does charge other people for this exact service.
“I’ll have a little now. I want to be sober for paddleboarding,” she says. I raise one eyebrow. We’re both experienced enough that one glass of wine won’t affect either of our abilities on a board. “What’s your excuse?” She points to my nearly full cup.
Jeannette and Stacy sit on the bow flirting with Nathan. Orion can probably hear us, so I’m careful. “I’m just watching today. You all have fun.”
“You okay? Is it your hamstring again?”
My hamstring feels fine. I overstretch it from time to time. Haley probably has a mental log of every injury her friends have ever had. But that’s not what’s on my mind.
It’s the anxiety no meditation has ever been able to fully quell.
What if I fail?
If we’re stand-up paddleboarding, that means falling. I have years of experience with the sport so I should be fine. According to Nathan, the conditions should be calm where we’re headed. But falling in the Gulf of Mexico, even if unlikely, isn’t something I can risk.
I could handle falling in front of any of the women, and probably Nathan too. But Orion has clearly seen a lot. I will do anything to make sure he has a high opinion of me. I need him to keep thinking of me as the in-control business owner I am.
“It’s fine. I’m tired from my class this morning,” I answer.
I know what my reputation is around town. I give back to my community as much as possible. I organize beach cleanups every month and helped plan last year’s Sea Turtle Rescue 5K. I’ve worked hard for the image I have.
It’s real too. I care deeply about the environment and built my business around sustainability. But one misstep, no matter how small, can destroy everything I’ve built. One bad review can go viral. One out-of-context quote can blow up. People who don’t know me always judge. My friends are amazing, but I constantly wonder how long they’ll stick around.
When we get to the planned spot, both Orion and Nathan jump into action to lower the sails and drop the anchor. I tuck my feet under me to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re fine,” Orion says as he brushes past me.
“I don’t want to get in your way.”
“Trust me, you could never be in my way.” He winks. My insides shouldn’t quiver at his casual flirting. He does this with every guest, I’m sure. It earns him better tips. I don’t mean anything to him.
I wish I did. Even for a night.
They inflate the paddleboards and I pass on Nathan’s tour of the mangrove forest. “I did a lot of sun salutations this morning,” I tell him and Orion. It’s not a lie but it’s not the reason I’m staying behind.
The waves rock Haley, and she kneels to maintain her balance. I also notice the way Orion watches her like a hawk, worried he’ll need to jump in for a rescue. But Haley finds enough stability to paddle after Nathan. I wave goodbye, but they’re already focused on what’s ahead of them.
It feels sudden, the way they’re gone. I’m left with Orion, the boat, and not another soul in sight. I sit on the stern, dangling my feet in the water.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, as a formality.
I’m next to a bowl of shrimp ceviche. I’d told him he could help himself to anything we brought. I always order extra rather than risk running out. So far, he hasn’t taken me up on the offer.
“This is a nice perk you’ve given them,” he comments, eating a cracker from the plate set between us.
I shrug. “They’ve worked really hard to get us where we are.”
“You founded the company, right? You must have worked hard too,” he says.
My skin prickles. I know what he’s getting at because I’ve seen him watching. Not just me, everyone. He notices I’ve barely had a sip of alcohol and held back from the gourmet snacks, letting everyone else have their first pick. I take a bite from the tray, savoring the way Haley creates the perfect blend of seafood, citrus, and avocado.
I’ve worked hard. The company is my brainchild. My ex would tell me since the risk was mine, the reward should be mine as well. But I got the startup cash from my father, or rather his investment firm, the Webb Group. I built on what I was given. It doesn’t feel earned. I’m not a rags-to-riches or a bootstraps story.
“It’s just nice to be away for the day,” I muse.
“What all does your company do?” he asks.
I’m not insulted he hasn’t heard of Nebula Athletics. We’re incredibly successful, but only in certain circles. I’m not sure there’s much overlap between yoga and sailing.
“We primarily make yoga clothes and athleisure with a heavy focus on sustainability and fair labor practices.” He nods along, like he agrees with my message. I’m a businessperson first, even though I also have years of yoga practice and as a yoga teacher. I’ve given this elevator pitch to enough people to know if they’re waiting to ask about my profit margins.
But Orion looks genuinely interested.
“I also own a yoga studio under the brand in town. We stream classes online so that more people have access to movement.”
“That all sounds great,” he says. “Do you teach too?”
“I do. Started in college.” He nods but doesn’t respond. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about me. “How long have you been sailing?” I ask. I’m curious about him. I saw the way he lit up when I asked about the Mediterranean. He has to be new to Wendell Beach, otherwise we would have crossed paths. It’s a small town, and I’ve been a year-round resident for seven years. We don’t have a large permanent population, relying on tourists and seasonal residents. I doubt this man, who is constantly looking at the horizon, would stay in one place long.
“I’ve been sailing since I was a kid. I grew up in Boston. Bought my first boat at eighteen.” He gestures with his hand. “Now I have a fleet there and a fleet here.”
A few pieces fall into place. I hadn’t heard of Lost Craft Charters until Alex suggested I use them. The office informed me they’d been bought recently, and the name changed. I was assured they are locally owned. That’s important to me.
“You own the charter company?”
“I do. And its sister company in Boston.”
“How long have you lived here?” I should have seen him around.
“Technically, since last night.” He leans against the side of the boat. “I sailed down from Boston. When the Twisted Rigging pulled into the slip, this town officially became my home.”
He lives on this boat?
“You sailed from Boston yesterday? Why are you even out today?” I ask, not yet ready to process that I’ve invaded his home.
He takes his hat off and runs a hand through his hair, exactly like I imagined. “It took more than a day. But yes, the Twisted Rigging is my personal boat. No one else captains her.”
“I could have gone out on another boat.”
“Nothing but the best for Carina Webb.” He says it evenly. It’s the way it is.
I’ve heard it before. But it’s not how I feel. I would never ask to put Orion out. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
He shrugs. I wonder if anything fazes him. “So far it’s been worth it.” His gaze turns from the vast sea until he’s focused on me.
My breath hitches, which it never does. Years of yoga and pranayama breathwork have me always in control. I want it to mean more than simple flirtation as part of his job.
I hold back my smile, suddenly afraid it doesn’t mean anything to him, when it means something to me.