Chapter 14
SAGE
For a moment, Sage couldn’t move. Happiness rippled through her, making her whole body tingle. The idea to open her bookstore on a boat had been plan B. A last-ditch effort to make her dream come true. She’d never imagined something so exquisite, like stepping back in time to a world filled with elegance, grace, and beauty. Each detail—from the intricate molding to the dark, gleaming wood to the sparkling brass fixtures—radiated a regalness she hadn’t expected.
Her mind instantly flooded with visions of themed book clubs, swanky meet-the-author events, even posh private parties. She could transform both the upper and lower decks into a whimsical wonderland of literature and luxury. But not the over-the-top opulence Cordelia Cahill paraded around town to make others feel less than. She wanted each person who entered her bookstore to feel special, like royalty in their own kingdom of story and imagination.
She smiled, thinking of her favorite childhood book, The Curious Quest of Quinley Culpepper . Oh, how she’d longed to be the heroine, Quinley, heading off on one adventure after another. Even at twelve years old, Quinley had no fear, no hesitation. She epitomized bravery and self-reliance. Qualities Sage sorely lacked. Until now.
“I gather the quarters are to your liking?” Herman asked. “Mr. Mackensie took great care to have the interior cleaned and polished.”
“Everything is perfect,” Sage whispered, overcome with a sense of reverence.
Until her gaze landed on the large queen bed at the back of the room. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she coughed, desperate for air as heat crept up her neck.
“Perfect, huh?” Flynn’s lips twitched, and her blush deepened.
“Obviously, apart from the sleeping arrangements.” An image of Flynn’s tall, athletic frame splayed lazily across the plush white duvet flashed in her mind.
Get out, get out, get out.
She tried to scold the unpleasant mental image from her subconscious to no avail. Now, Imaginary Flynn had his shirt slightly unbuttoned. Her cheeks flamed, rivaling two burning coals glowing in the moonlight. There might as well be the words Sage Harper wants to cuddle with Flynn Cahill emblazoned on her forehead.
Except, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. If only her heart, body, and brain could get on the same page.
“What about the crew quarters?” Flynn asked Herman. “Mira didn’t sail this puppy all on her own.”
“The crew slept in a custom berth above deck that was, sadly, damaged during the shipwreck. Mr. Mackensie had it removed for safety reasons.”
“And with all his forethought and planning over the last two days, the guy couldn’t whip up an extra bed?” Flynn asked dryly.
“Even a man of great brilliance can’t think of everything.”
Flynn mumbled “Uh-huh” under his breath, as if he wasn’t buying Herman’s answer, but Sage kept quiet. Edwin Mackensie had gone above and beyond to clean and restore a boat he planned to practically give away. If they could find his wife’s diary. She wasn’t about to complain. Even if the man’s methods were more than a bit suspect. Caviar and oysters? What was that all about?
“We’ll figure something out.” She offered Herman a smile. “Thank you for the tour. If it’s okay, I’d like to start looking for the diary before we lose any more daylight.” Soft rays of sun streamed through round portholes and the butterfly hatches overhead, illuminating the space with bright natural light. But, according to Herman, as soon as night fell, they could dispel the darkness only with lanterns and candlelight.
“Of course. I’ll bid you adieu.” Herman gave a little bow in farewell and excused himself, leaving Sage alone with Flynn and his dog. The latter had already made himself at home on a long leather bench.
In Herman’s absence, silence stretched between them, dulled only by the lapping of waves and occasional seagull cry.
“So, how do you wanna do this?” Flynn asked, glancing toward the bed.
Her skin sizzled again. Stupid hormones . “Do what?”
“This.” He swung his arms to encompass the room. “We have three days to find this thing. And I don’t think you want to be on top of each other the whole time.”
Another full-body hot flash swept over her. Good grief. Get it together . “Of course I don’t,” she snapped, then reeled herself in. She who doth protest too much . “Why don’t we split the boat in two sections? We can take turns searching the different areas.”
“Works for me. Do you want top or bottom first?”
“Um.” She bit her lower lip, struggling to decide. Was she the only one finding it impossible to think straight? She loathed this man with every fiber of her being. So why did her traitorous stomach still spin whenever he looked at her with those sultry amber eyes as deep and dark as buckwheat honey? “I’ll take below deck.”
“Fine by me. Cap and I will take topside.”
Sage felt a prick of hesitation at how readily he agreed. Below deck was the better choice. Unless Flynn knew that and assumed it had already been thoroughly searched in Mackensie’s previous attempts to find the diary. Did she need to expand her strategy beyond the most obvious?
Anxiety fluttered in her chest like a trapped honeybee, furiously beating its wings. She couldn’t lose this boat. Not to Flynn. Not to anyone. She needed a plan. She needed to get inside Mira’s head.
On any given occasion, Mackensie’s wife would have at least one crew member—usually two—help her man the boat. If she wanted to ensure her privacy, where would she keep her diary that was both safe but also accessible?
Her mind whirred with possibilities. Perhaps a secret compartment in one of the bookcases? She turned to find Flynn rummaging through the bedside storage. “Excuse me? Didn’t we just agree I would search below deck first?”
“Yes, thanks for the reminder.” He tugged two nautical-themed quilts from the cupboard. “But unless you want to share the bed with me and Cap—who snores, by the way—I’d better borrow these.”
“Oh. Right.” He was letting her have the bed? Without even flipping a coin? “Where are you taking them?”
“I thought we’d sleep under the stars tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve camped out.”
She chewed her bottom lip, surprised by the twinge of guilt. Sleeping above deck would be uncomfortable. But she’d rather live with the guilt of Flynn tossing and turning all night than the alternative—sharing the same sleeping space. “Here.” She grabbed one of the pillows off the bed. “Take this, too.”
“Thanks.” He tucked it under his arm and headed toward the companionway. “C’mon, Cap. Let’s go, buddy.” Flynn paused, turning to face her. “Hey. I brought two steak sandwiches for me and Cap for lunch. I’ve been craving Steam Engine Sammies since I got back to town. You’re welcome to join us. In case you don’t feel like eating oysters and caviar for the next three days.”
Sage blinked, startled by the unexpected offer. Had he lost his mind? Surely he knew he was the last person she wanted as a lunch companion. “Thank you, but I brought a few snacks of my own. It’s probably best if we each keep to ourselves.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” For the first time since they’d stepped on board, Flynn looked off-kilter.
Good. She shouldn’t be the only one out of sorts.
“Happy hunting.” He gave a little salute. “May the best man win.”
“I will.” As she watched him disappear through the hatch, her heart ached with an unsettling intensity.
Sure, she’d loved him once. Deeply. But that was a long time ago. And after what he’d done, she shouldn’t want anything to do with him, let alone yearn to be near him as soon as he walked away.
She thought of all the women who came to the Honeybee Retreat hoping for a place to heal. Eventually, they all went home, happier and healthier. They’d learned to let go of the past, of what they’d lost. Why couldn’t she do the same?
She roughly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. She was being ridiculous. Strong, independent women didn’t grieve a broken heart a decade old.
She’d let men like Flynn and her father live inside her head for too long.
It was time she stopped simply admiring characters like Quinley Culpepper.
She needed to be Quinley Culpepper.
And she’d start right here, right now. By finding that diary.