Chapter 10
Ten
Reef
The marina buzzes with anticipation as the sun climbs over the ridge overlooking Merlin Lake, begging me to take a quick swim before the day heats up.
But I’ve got race paperwork to do.
All the physical work is done. The slips set aside for the racers have been cordoned off. Red, white and blue bunting decorates the covered area where the afterparty will take place. Tables have been set up to check in all the participants.
As she promised, Quincy has arrived early and got everything while I went home, washed my uniform, and paced around my tiny house. It’s a real small space for pacing, and highly ineffective.
Right now I’m pretending to look over the paperwork as I watch her flit around the docks in her usual crisp white shorts. Today, she wears a fitted blue tank top, knowing that we’re allowed to be more casual on Saturdays and holidays.
When she appeared in her kitchen wearing that this morning, she looked juicier than the blueberries on the flag cake.
She’d have slapped me silly if she knew my first thought when I saw her this morning involving bending her over the kitchen table, taking two big handfuls of that ass that’s been bouncing around my dock, and humping those cheeks until my head got clear.
She moves crisply, humming under her breath as she tapes paper flags to the shop’s windows. The Minnow Bucket looks festive, and a lot less like a weather-beaten shack, by the time the first boaters began to trickle in.
I move to the tables with clipboard in hand, my chest tightening as Quincy approaches.
“You ready for this, boss?”
She smiles at me, but it’s a little too professional and distant.
And that’s my fault. I freaked her out when she found me in her kitchen wearing nothing but a towel. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Well, I was thinking that I had sneaked out of bed and grabbed a quick shower before getting to work on the cake. And I hadn’t wanted to put my clothes back on from last night, so I had the extremely egotistical thought that Quincy would take one look at me in the towel and jump me right there.
And now, looking back, that had been a very dumb thought.
It was too forward, too presumptuous. After all, that was still her grandmother’s kitchen.
Did I really think Quincy was about to flip up my towel and straddle me on the counter right next to the vintage Merry Mushroom canister set? I’m an idiot.
What I should have done was stayed my ass in bed, right next to her, and waited for her to wake up, and had a real talk.
The talk. The one that makes it clear that we’re not boss/employee anymore.
That I plan on seeing her again, in that bed, and as often as possible.
And not just in bed, because I’m not about having secrets when it comes to women.
I should have told her in no uncertain terms that I’m her guy.
That this thing between us is real and I want to build on it.
I guess I got up in my head about it and tried a different approach. And that flopped, big time.
“You okay, boss?”
Quincy’s pretty brows come together in concern as I’m staring off into the distance.
I snap out of it and give her a smile. “Yes. Never better. Now, let’s call out the boat names and numbers and make sure everyone’s ready, and you fill them into the logbook. Your handwriting is nicer than mine.”
“Thanks?” Quincy says. I detect a slight shake of her head as she takes the logbook from me.
Together, we hand out the numbered pennants to each boat captain, then point out the starting line flags that stretch across the water so all the boaters know where to line up.
She does her job dutifully and doesn’t look up from the logbook until we’re done.
This is going to be a long day.
From the finish line—a buoy anchored in the choppy waters about two nautical miles from the marina—I watch through my binoculars as the sailboats take off at the sound of the starter pistol, provided by one of the other marina workers.
The two of us are stuck together in the middle of the lake, with heavy clouds ringing the ridge to my left. The humidity is so bad that my shirt is clinging to me.
Quincy looks hot and bored. In fact, she’s been more or less silent since we boarded the boat and anchored at the finish line.
I offer, “When this is over, we could head over to the sandbar for a swim.”
“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
“No need for a suit. I was just thinking we could dip in and out.”
She stares at me, and I rest the binoculars on my chest. “The sandbar is gonna be lousy with drunks today. Hardly the place I’d want to skinny dip.”
I wasn’t meaning a skinny dip, but now she’s got me biting back a groan. “Not talking about taking off our clothes, Quincy,” and immediately I realize I sound like a scandalized prude. Who gives a fuck if she thought I meant naked swimming?
She rears back from me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend my ultra-professional boss with my whorish suggestion.”
“I’m sorry. You can skinny dip if you want to.”
“Well, I don’t want to.”
“Fine.”
“Why are you acting so weird?”
I’m momentarily distracted as the radio makes a noise. It’s Susan, I think, but I can’t hear what she says. If it’s urgent, she’ll try again soon.
I turn my attention back to Quincy. “What?”
”You’ve been acting different all morning," Quincy says, squinting at the distant boats.
A few of them have taken in their oars and raised their sails, catching the sudden wind that has kicked up.
I hand her the binoculars, but she waves me off. I hang them back around my neck.
“I thought you wanted me to act professional. I felt embarrassed after my block-headed decision to prance around in a towel.”
She smirks. “You weren’t prancing. I thought you were annoyed with me for wanting to be at work early.”
“I wasn’t annoyed.” My eyes stay on the lead boat cutting through the water. “I thought you’d gotten the ick.”
“No! No. That was me protecting myself,” Quincy says.
The relief I feel is so fucking real, but at the same time, I hate that she felt she had to keep her guard up with me. “From what?”
I drop the binoculars again and turn to fully face her, planting my legs in the increasingly violent bobbing of the speedboat we’re in. She keels a little to the left, and I reach out to steady her.
“From reading into the situation. I…I liked seeing you like that. I liked the idea of you feeling comfortable in my house. In my space. In my bed, my kitchen. And I didn’t want to make more out of it than what it was.”
For a moment, I stare at her, and the sweet smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. But before either of us can say more, a shadow passes over the lake.
A sudden rain shower sweeps across the water, darkening the ripples and slapping fat droplets against our skin. The wind picks up, whipping at the flags marking the finish line. The buoys bobble sideways in the waves, and the mist on the ridge has been replaced by dark clouds.
“Whoa,” Quincy exclaims, stumbling and slipping out of my grasp.
Quincy smartly sits down when she sees the look on my face, and reaches for a life vest.
Thank god for a worker who reads the handbook.