6. Willa
Chapter six
Willa
I push open the unlocked front door and let myself into my childhood home. “Knock, knock! Anyone home?” I call out, praying no one responds to my greeting.
While borrowing my parents' boat and leaving from their dock is far easier than renting a boat, I didn't fully think through my plan when I made the suggestion. It wasn't until after the words left my mouth that I realized Nick might have to meet my family.
Who wants to introduce a man they just met to their parents? Not this girl.
Now I'm left hoping my parents are out of the house, so I can drop off the party supplies and leave a note about borrowing the boat for a few hours.
But luck is not on my side when I hear my mum holler, "In the kitchen, love!"
Dammit.
With Nick at my back, we traipse through the house, carrying the boxes of decor.
Although Nick tries to drag his feet so that he can peruse the framed family photos that line the walls of the living room, I encourage him to move along.
No one needs to be subjected to photographic evidence of the short-lived emo-goth phase I went through during seventh grade.
Especially not someone as handsome as Nick, who I imagine never endured the gangly, awkward phase of adolescence like the rest of us mere mortals.
It’s obvious when Nick spies that particular photo by the way his azure eyes widen and his head whips back to do a double take.
Seriously, why did I dye my hair black and wear a freaking studded dog collar?
I hasten my pace and beckon for Nick to follow. When we make it to the kitchen, we drop the boxes on the table. "Hi, mum."
“Hullo, love. Give me a second to set this down.” With her back to us, my mum removes what smells like banana bread from the oven.
To my right, Nick stands with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, looking relaxed.
But his eyes trail over every nook and cranny of the kitchen, from the wood cabinets and granite countertops littered with a hodgepodge of baking ingredients to the bookshelf crammed with mum's impressive collection of cookbooks. Everything about Nick is polished. From his attire to his confident bearing, it’s obvious he comes from money.
So, while my family home is large and quite nice by middle-class American standards, it’s likely subpar compared to his wealthy European upbringing.
However, his gaze doesn’t seem judgmental, merely curious.
“Something smells delicious, Mrs. Radford,” Nick comments.
Upon hearing an unfamiliar masculine voice, my mom startles and nearly drops the loaf pan as she whirls around.
“Mum, this is my friend, Nick. I was hoping we could take the boat out for the day.”
My mum, usually the most loquacious in the room, remains silent, wearing a dreamy smile as she gazes at Nick adoringly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Radford."
Mum slips off her oven mitts and daintily pats her hair before holding out her hand to Nick. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Nick,” she simpers.
Nick pumps her hand politely, but when Nick moves to untangle his hand from my mum's, she doesn't let go. Nick's eyes flick to mine. I think it's the first time I've seen him unsure.
"Mum!" I smother a smile, enjoying Nick's discomfort a little too much.
After a few more awkward seconds of my mum staring at Nick with heart eye emojis, she releases her grip on his hand with a tiny sigh.
I prod, “So, it’s okay if we borrow the boat, right?”
Without moving her gaze away from Nick, my mum replies breathily, “Of course, love.”
“Mum, you’re acting deranged.”
My admonishment jostles her from her stupor, and she turns to me, taking in my appearance with squinted eyes. "Wilhemina," she hisses out the side of her mouth. "It wouldn't hurt to dress a little nicer for your friend."
"Thanks, mum." I roll my eyes, accustomed to her critical brand of motherly love.
"I only want what's best for you, love." Returning her attention to Nick, Mum inquires, “Nick, has Willa invited you to our anniversary party yet? It’s on Friday, and we'd be pleased to have you join us."
I clap my hand over my eyes, mortified that my mum is trying to arrange a date for me. First Maggie and now my mother. I'm really trying to stay vigilant and fight the growing crush I have on Nick, but the people in my life are not making it easy.
Maybe I should just stop fighting it and see where it might lead…
“I’d be honored to attend, Mrs. Radford.”
My hand slides down, as I eye Nick suspiciously .
He meets my gaze wearing a wicked, mischievous grin, which I’m coming to understand is his resting face. Some people have a resting bitch face, but Nick looks as if he sprang out of the womb ready to stir up trouble.
My mum sputters in delight, and I quickly tug Nick from the house before she can embarrass me any further.
“It obviously runs in the family,” comments Nick as we enter the backyard.
I wrinkle my nose, confused. “What does?”
“The ability to awkwardly stare at me without speaking.”
My jaw drops. Nick's comment earns him a well-deserved elbow to the gut, but he throws back his head, laughing. After a moment, I can't help but join in.
As we climb aboard the skiff, Nick motions to the side of the hull and asks, “Beverly Jane?”
“My dad named the boat after my mum. My pervy brothers nicknamed it BJ, which my mum hates, so naturally, the nickname stuck.” When my brain catches up with my mouth enough to realize that I just casually referenced a sex act, I continue babbling to steer the conversation away from blow jobs.
“Speaking of my mum, I need to apologize. I’m sorry that she put you on the spot like that when she invited you to the party.
You really don’t have to come. I’m sure you were only being polite. ”
I pull the cord on the motor three times before the boat finally sputters to life with a clunky roar, the smell of gasoline permeating the air.
“If you’re okay with me attending, I’d like to come and meet the people who are important to you.”
I stare at him, confused. It’s such an odd thing to want, especially after knowing me for such a short duration.
“Besides, Maggie already invited Johann to accompany her to the party last night.”
Ah, now it makes sense. Nick only wants to come so he won't be left out.
Why did I give Maggie that stupid dare?
Nick and I spend the next hour drifting across the water as I point out the different species of fish, everything from redfish and striped mullet to Atlantic croaker and spotted seatrout.
In my parents’ flat-bottomed skiff, we cruise the shallow intercoastal waterways.
Once we hit the saltwater flats, I turn off the engine and stand at the rear of the boat, poling us through the water.
In some spots, the water is less than a foot deep and crystal clear, allowing us an up-close opportunity to see the marine wildlife native to the Carolinas.
“You seem at home here on the water,” Nick observes as I drop anchor so we can eat our picnic lunch without drifting.
“I am,” I reply, after swallowing a bite of chicken salad sandwich. “I learned to drive a boat long before I ever drove a car. Growing up on the water, it’s a necessary skill.”
“Ever sailed?”
“Once or twice, but not regularly. You?”
When Nick nods, I’m not surprised. It seems like the type of aristocratic leisure activity he’d pursue. With a smile, I envision Nick as a child, dressed in white shorts, a polo shirt, a navy-blue captain’s hat, and a matching cravat, at the helm of a pristine sailboat.
He narrows his eyes. “What has you looking so smug all of a sudden?”
“Just imagining you as a child on a sailboat.”
“Yes, let’s talk about childhoods. What was that one photo of you—”
Cutting him off, I point my finger and warn, “Don’t even mention what I think you’re about to say, Nicholas.”
His head rears back. “Nicholas?”
“Well, your given name isn’t Nick, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” He pauses before retorting sarcastically, “So, back to the photo, Wilhemina.”
Ugh, I loathe the fact that my mum gave my brothers very normal, boring names, but she named me Wilhemina.
Impulsively, I tear off a hunk of my sandwich and throw it at Nick's smirking face. Caught off-guard, he doesn’t have time to react before it smacks him in the cheek.
Stunned, a disbelieving laugh tumbles from his lips as he stares at me wide-eyed. “Did you just throw your sandwich at me?”
“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” I sass.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now, Willa.” Before I know what’s happening, Nick removes the top slice of bread from his sandwich and smashes the chicken salad onto my cheek, the greasy mayonnaise acting like a suction, adhering it to my face.
Gasping, I gape at his audacity as I struggle to move out of his grip. “I threw a measly, teeny-tiny piece at you, and you smeared half a sandwich onto me!”
“Want me to clean it up for you?”
Then, without waiting for my response and with an ornery gleam in his eyes, he cups my cheek, and he licks— licks! —my face. His tongue makes direct contact with my skin from my jawline all the way up to my eye socket.
I jolt, successfully pulling out of his hold. “Nicholas!” I gasp incredulously as he laughs. “What are you doing?”
Parroting my own words back to me, he replies, “Why ask a question you already know the answer to? ”
I scoff, “You’re...you are sooooo—”
“Funny?” he supplies.
“Dead,” I finish.
And thus begins our full-on food fight as each and every delicious dish Nick bought at the Saltside Deli for our picnic lunch is tossed about the skiff.
We each dodge what we can, but within the confines of the small boat, it's difficult to evade the flying morsels of food. By the time we’ve run out of ammunition, we’re both covered in crumbs and holding our sides from laughing.
“I cannot believe you did that,” I pant between giggles as I proudly eye the swath of banana pudding that stains Nick’s shirt.
“You started it, Willa.”
“True. I did.”
Leaning back onto the small bench seat, Nick smiles. “Honestly, that was the most fun I’ve had in years. It’s not often that I get the opportunity to misbehave.”
“Same.”
I stand carefully so as not to tip the boat and suggest, “Let’s rinse off in the ocean. We’ll be kind of crusty from the saltwater, but that's more comfortable than being sticky from the food.”
After cleaning off, we lounge leisurely in the sandy, shallow water as gentle waves lap over our bodies.
When the sun moves to the western side of the sky, it’s gotten to be late enough in the afternoon that my mum will be wondering where we are with her boat.
“We probably better head back before my mum calls out the Coast Guard’s search and rescue team. ”
Rising from the water, my wet clothes stick to my body, and I feel the weight of Nick’s stare. My teeth nibble on my bottom lip, preening under his appreciative gaze. When my tongue darts out to lick my lips, his pupils dilate and zero in on my mouth. Something inside me purrs .
When I meet his eyes with an imperiously raised brow, he smirks, unashamed at having been caught staring. “Can’t blame a guy for looking at a woman.” He shrugs before adding, “Especially not one as beautiful as you, Willa.”
The matter-of-fact way in which he delivers the statement makes me warm from the inside out.
That warmth carries me all the way through our trip back to the resort. As we walk through the lobby, Nick asks blithely, “Care to join me for dinner tonight? I assume you’re as hungry as I am since we didn’t eat much lunch.”
I pause, deliberating.
I’ve already developed a crush on Nick. If I continue spending time with him, I’ll be setting myself up to get hurt.
Eventually, our vacations will end, and Nick and I will return to our respective homes.
If I want to consider dating again, I should be smart and strategic and find someone who's also looking for a committed, serious relationship. While I don’t doubt Nick’s attraction for me, he’s given me no indication that he’s interested in anything more than a flirtation or a fling.
So, I decide the best course of action is to decline his dinner offer.
However, while I've been mentally debating, Nick has pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket and begun tapping away. In a matter of seconds, Nick stows his phone and says, “All set. We have dinner reservations in an hour at a steakhouse.”
He flashes his mega-watt smile at me.
Blinded by his pearly whites, I fall into a trance.
"Yep, it definitely runs in your family." Chuckling, Nick takes my hand and leads me into the empty elevator. His thumb traces light circles on the inside of my wrist. Inexplicably, his gentle caresses feel incredibly intimate.
As the elevator doors slide closed behind us, Nick steps into me, nestling his body against my own. He murmurs, “Unless you say otherwise, I’m going to take your silence as an acceptance of my dinner invitation.”
As he gazes down at me, I can no longer remember why I wanted to turn him down, so I nod.
What was I worried about again?